At a baby shower our friends threw for us. I tried to wear this dress right after I had Harry, when I was too fat for pants, but I couldn't nurse in it. Believe me, I tried, and it was awkward.
Taking advantage of the last weekend our HMO said we could travel more than 30 miles out of town, we went to Lake Geneva and waddled around. The funny thing is, even though I had a heat rash on my thighs like you wouldn't believe and had to rest for a half an hour at an ice cream shop because I was so winded from a walk around the mall, I thought I was only pregnant-looking in the belly. Ha ha ha ha ha. And? We were all pissy that we couldn't leave town for the thirty days leading up to my due date (July 2nd), but in retrospect? Dodged that bullet, huh. Harry could have been a Dells baby.
I guess I'm nostalgic tonight because I just loooked at the picutres I posted a few minutes ago, and Harry is getting so big. He can walk holding onto anything-- even with one hand-- and he stands up without holding anything for longer and longer periods of time everyday. He says new words (today's was "gentle" which he repeated as I pleaded with him to take care when bashing me on the head with my own cell phone), and does cool new stuff (today, he initiated peekaboo, instead of just playing along with us, and he can seek us when we hide) everyday. The things is, I remember when he was just an idea, a person who was all wedged up under my left ribs (always was a cuddler), a beep on a monitor. Now he has ideas ("Get that!"), preferences (cole slaw rocks; orgnaic mac and cheese? not so much), and mad game (can you resist that wrinkley nose smile? I didn't think so).
Remember how tiny he was?
What was not so tiny? My face. And my upper arms.
This comparison kills me.
Did I mention we made him an appointment for his 1 year pictures and bought him an outfit for his birthday party? Well, we did, and those things may have made me weepy, too. Not weepy, I guess because I didn't cry (until I relaized that I ate a whole bag of chocolate chips this week), but maudlin for sure. That's why I keep dredging up picutres like these
to compare to this
Hey! Check me out-- I am so hormonal I don't even have to do this weirdo comparison with my own kid to get semi choked up:
Ahhhh, Harry and Max
Max and Harry
I'm gonna go eat more chocolate. And possibly drink some wine. Ben's at a ball game, and normally I'd take this time to watch a really girly movie, but I think Shag, or 13 Going on Thirty, or even Crossroads would put me over the edge. Oh god, Thelma and Louise.