** Actually not upright. Reclining with the computer on my Boppy.
Oh my god. Will I sound totally and completely naive if I say that 2 under 2 is really hard? I know, you're like, duh, and so am I, really, but oh my god.
I thought it was going to be totally smooth sailing based on last week-- when Jack only slept, ate, peed, and pooped. This week, he spends more and more time like this:
In Secret Agent mode. Silently judging. On a totally unrelated note, how cute are those Trumpette shoe socks? I forgot how adorable they were until today when I happened upon them in Harry's sock drawer.
Also, Jack has started doing that thing where he will only sleep on my chest at night. This time, we were prepared for co-sleeping; we know how to do it as safely as possible, according to the AAP, and we do not believe all those naysayers who tell us that the kid will be in our bed forever because Harry is 22 months and has been sleeping all by himself for the past 10. For the past 2-ish months, he's been in his big boy bed, even. So all you haters can back off (and I mean this in the nicest possible way).
Despite the co-sleeping (which we tried to avoid at all costs with Harry and spent most of his early days so stupid with sleep deprivation that we could barely appreciate his adorableness), we are tired because it sure does suck to wake up every 3 hours, especially since that seems to be the exact moment when I enter REM sleep. Oh! But I have been watching the best crap TV-- Platinum Weddings, Bridezillas, Deliver Me, John and Kate Plus 8, Sex and the City-- all of this and more trashy delights are available On Demand, thank god-- made with the nursing mother in mind.
Oh! I judged a speech tournament this weekend, and I wore my skinny jeans!!!!!! Ha!! 10 days post partum! I was beyond thrilled, even though I had an apron of extra tummy flab that I kind of had to tuck in a little (luckily baby doll shirts are cool right now).
Jack hates his bath
But, he no longer smells like trash. The doctor agreed that the smell was gross. He at first said everything looked great, and I was all, "Really? What would it look like if it weren't?" as I threw up in my mouth a little. He pulled the stump back and dumped alcohol into it, and it was all green and gushy underneath. I said "Oh my god," with a genuine gasp of horror, and the doctor laughed at me (without even trying to hide his amusement even a little). Then he cauterized it to dry it out, which left the stump black and hanging by a gooey green cord. I said, "Oh. Neat. Is that going to, like, come off soon?" That's when he took pity on me and removed it on the spot. So Jack is officially his own man. With a squeeky giraffe.
Also his own man? Harry, who was hard at work building a sail butt (sail boat).
He's also totally into golf. Soooo preppy, huh?
Oh yeah. It SNOWED yesterday.
Harry coloring next to a pile of rags.
Oh wait! That pile of rags is my baby doing tummy time, which knocks him right out.
Gaucho pants alert!! Avert your eyes.
Jack liked Harry's bath just fine Also, poor Ben because the moment he gets home, I am all, "Take the baby-- I need 2 hands," which means HE never gets 2 hands, but is getting really good at doing things 1 handed. Last night, I used my 2 hand time to sign Harry up for summer classes-- we're doing swim, a music class, and a cooking class.
This is a funny picture because Harry is actually saying cheese
Very responsibly, I left Jack swaddled in the middle of the bed and went down for breakfast. When I returned, he was wearing his Swaddle Me like a cape. Sadly, no evident super powers as of yet.
Ben went back to work this week, and I have to grade some stuff for school. Luckily, Jamie is coming today, so maybe I can take a nap in the late afternoon. Otherwise, we really are trying to enjoy ourselves (even though we spent a really unenjoyable hour last night trying to put Jack's swing together and almost killed each other-- not out of anger, just because the swing kept malfunctioning and almost hitting us when it sprang apart) because we are 99.99999% sure that Jack is baby number last.
Natural childbirth really sucked, and I never want to do it again. Recovery, though, has been so smooth, quick, and painless that I never want an epidural again, either. I mean, I took a shower minutes after his birth, went to the bathroom all by myself like a big girl, and WALKED from the birth suite to the family care suite (carrying my own baby, might I add). It's hard to beat that, you know?
So, this kid is it, and we're both taking time to smell the roses-- and by roses, we mean the back of his sweet, squooshy little neck and the top of his soft, fuzzy little head.