A Picture Post

16 Cups of Frozen Berries = 19 Jars of Jam

The chubbiest,  cutest little hands.

A mid-winter (indoor) flower. 

A weird-o, but also sometimes a beast. 

House Progress

We bought our house last April when I was about three months pregnant. It didn't take us too long to realize that we had overcommitted-- time-wise, money-wise, energy-wise. It was really an honest mistake. We had no idea what "fixer-upper" meant, or what having a baby would be like. We thought we'd tear up some carpet, slap on some paint, and  be good to go. Not exactly how it works, even less so when you have no free time and are running on five broken hours of sleep. 

It has felt like every project has some fun twist in the plot (More money! More time! Do you really need a working toilet?!), but we have persevered. Matt deserves a gold medal for his efforts, and it is really starting to pay off. The end is near. There are a few projects left... mostly small ones, but a couple bigger ones.  I'm not sure of our future in this house, but I am sure that it has been quite the learning experience. 

Anyways, here are some pictures of where we started and where we are now. I'll post more as things keep improving!

Living Room...

Dining Room...

Kitchen... 

It's Like Riding a Bike...

While I was pregnant I managed to (carefully) ride my bike quite a bit until my center of gravity really shifted about five months in. That was last June, and since then my poor bike has been collecting dust in the basement. That was until yesterday, when Matt gave it a tune-up, and then I actually rode it (you know, like outside and everything!). The weekend before I ran jogged a whole three miles at the clip of eleven minutes per mile. Not exactly a record, but it was the farthest I'd ran in months and months.

I'm calling it a comeback...

Henry's arrival was pretty rough on me. I am certain that without a c-section I would have died. It makes me a little sad to know I wouldn't have survived in the wild (not that I could really explain why that is to you), but I am quite grateful to be more or less unscathed thanks to the marvels of modern medicine.

That said, recovering from the surgery and its complications while learning how to care for a little baby was really difficult. But, I'm slowly starting to feel like my old self again (minus anything resembling abdominal muscles), and I am very glad for that. Life is just better when you can ride a bike.

Maybe soon Matt and I can stop having this exchange every two days*:

Me: You know, having a baby is so hard on your body.
Matt: You're the first woman to ever say that.
Me: Well it is...

* Just to be clear Matt has been nothing but sweet and wonderful, but realistically you only get to be a body-sacrficing martyr for so long.

Three Months Old

Today our little man is three months old! They say the first three months are an extension of womb life-- the fourth trimester. Having now lived through the first three months, I don't disagree. I've never spent less time sleeping, or more time making sure another creature is adequately fed and comfortable. 

I've felt really challenged by this job at (many) times. I know people have managed to survive having babies (multiple ones even!?!) since the dawn of time, but I've certainly gained a new appreciation for what it means to exist as a parent. 

Lately it seems obvious that Henry is adjusting nicely to life on the outside. His personality is blossoming, and he is a very happy baby. He is constantly smiling, and has the cutest squeaky laugh. He loves being read to, and is an overall amiable companion. 

On Thursday he suddenly became an excellent grabber-- very focused and precise. The milestone surprised me a bit. It seemed abrupt. Sure, he had been working up to grabbing things lately, but suddenly he could do it perfectly and accurately. I realized the same will be true of other milestones-- sitting, crawling, walking, etc., and that they will come quickly. 

This really struck me, because the last three months have felt endless in their way, and sometimes when I'm tired or overwhelmed I find myself wishing him bigger and more independent. But, he will be... soon, probably before I am ready, and then I'll be wishing him small and cuddly again. 

I know this all sounds a bit cliche, in the, "They grow up so fast!," way, but I guess things are often cliches because they are true. In the coming months I'd like to work on being present-minded, and enjoying the ride that is babyhood. I think we are going to have so much fun together... at least until he turns 12 and tries to rebel against me by doing something like dabbling in Republicanism.