So, I had to post today because honest-to-goodness, I had to mark this day.
Oliver is six months old today.
I KNOW! I swear to you, dear friend, that never, in all my 26 years of living has time flown like it has the last half-year.
A lot of it is hazy memory of nursing, diapers, and crying. (Oliver, Spencer, Henry... me...) Incredible. My house has never been so trashed. Ever.
At six months old, Oliver:
is 13lbs 13 oz
finally fits in 3-6 month clothes
is sitting unassisted. *He falls a lot though*
eating squished up baby food like it's his job.
charms anyone who will make eye contact with him.
resembles an elf.
sleeps more now than in the past.
nurses still approx. 20 times a day (that is NOT an exaggeration either)
adores his brothers and daddy (and me most days)
melts my heart with his giggles.
eats my hair
cries 90% of the time when you set him down.
scoots backwards unintentionally
Being a mother of three for a mere six months has opened my eyes as to why there is a 5-year gap between me (the third) and my little sister (the fourth.) I'm exhausted. :)
Oliver is just plain adorable. Oh my goodness, he infuriates me with his sleep habits, and the Zantac has saved us both, but despite all that, I can't quite explain how much I love him. He is my bub.
And since we never miss a chance to party, I'm thinking cake will be in order this afternoon.
I can't believe it's been six months! SIX MONTHS! And I'm still so fat it makes me want to cry. (Like how in one breath, I'm all "WE NEED CAKE" and then one second later I'm all, "MY PANTS STILL DON'T FIT!"?) But that is a whole 'nother post. So, I'll spare you my chub-pity-party until another day.
Look at him! He's just a doll.
|From September 2009|