Yolande

August 2, 2009

Buh-bye, blueberry.....hello raspberry!


Seriously? What an adorable little fruit? And 8 weeks sounds incredibly official to me, just so you know. We have now known about our little raspberry for a whole month. And in the exact same amount of time, we will be headed out of the first tri and probably ready to announce it here on this blog. Cannot.Freaking.Wait. Keeping this fatty secret is hard, you guys, seriously.

My 8 week belly pic is complete with a creepy face, since I had to use the tripod for this one instead of my hubby. A little more bloat this week, perhaps?


So I had my first parenting-related freak out moment today. I was in the shower, getting ready for work when BAM, it hit me. OMG. When I have a newborn baby to care for I will not be able to roll out of bed 30 minutes before I leave for work and focus on making myself presentable. How will I manage myself AND a newborn before work? I mean, I'm sure the baby will just wake up whenever, then need to be changed, fed, and dressed all before I even get a shower or breakfast. The logistics freak me out sometimes. Like, how in the heck am I going to manage that? I was also thinking about the grocery store (something I completely despise even when I'm all alone) and wondered, "Hmm, do you take the baby in with you, in the carseat? Where in the heck do you put the carseat when you push the cart?" I got a little panicky then realized that I have some time before I worry about those types of baby juggling issues. Let's make it to our first appointment first.

Which, oh em geeeee, it's only 7 days away now. Eeek! I think I'm going to be both a wreck and ridiculously excited for next Monday. Can't even breathe thinking about it but I'm trying to be all Zen and calm and stuff. Please, God, let it all go well.

So this week I have felt Fatigue like none other. I know I say that every week, but I am not joking with the following scenario: I came home from work one day and almost fell asleep at the wheel. Then walking up our stairs took me about 10 minutes because I couldn't muster up the energy to put one foot in front of the other. When I finally arrived upstairs, I had to literally collapse on the bed and just rest my eyes before I could even change clothes or tell Nate 'hello.' I even begged him to please change me out of my work clothes and into lounge wear but he didn't bite on that one. Ugh. He's both impressed and a little frightened of my new-found ability to sleep. Seriously. Let me give a little shout out to naps on the couch. Holla at your girl. I love you much. See you in a few hours, no doubt, drooling onto every single throw pillow we own is my new goal.

A little more barfy this week, too, but still nothing that is crippling me. And I had an epiphany while doing a little online reading: sometimes docs prescribe vitamin B6 for morning sickness. Well, duh....I already take 100 mg daily aside from my prenatal. I started taking it the month before we got pregnant to help lengthen out my cycle (guess it worked!) and now I wonder if that helps stave off my lurking morning sickness? Who knows, but so far I'm pretty stinking lucky to avoid bowing to the porcelain gods. I really just feel it lumping up in the back of my throat sometimes and food looks totally disgusting to me even if I'm starved. And when I become famished that's when I really feel nauseated, so it's truly a vicious cycle. Starving but nauseated. Fun times, I tell you.

But the gas, you guys. I think what I'm lacking in nausea I've made up for in gas. And bloat. And a disgusting taste in my mouth all the time. And peeing a lot. And sore boobs. Which, btw, are like porn star boobs in my opinion. I had a tiny bit of cleavage IN MY SPORTS BRA the other day. Fellow A-cuppers, there is hope, my friends!!

Oh and my sense of smell is out of control. Did I tell you about the time I SWORE I caught a whiff of Southern Comfort? Yeah, disgusting. I started sniffing around the house and asked Nate if he was secretly pounding shots of SoCo somewhere without my knowledge. It was at that point he backed away from his crazy pregnant wife and said, "Sweetie, do you need another nap?" Of course I did, what a fab idea.

I tried my first real cup of decaffinated coffee at brunch the other day and since it's been a whole month since I partook in my favorite leisure activity, I thought I would love it. However, I thought it tasted like battery acid and made Nate try it out to confirm. Guess it was just my wimpy taste buds because Nate thought it was totally fine. I still cannot believe I've stopped drinking coffee and my body hasn't gone into convulsions. Just wow. I still love you more than life itself, dear Starbeezie. Someday we will be lovers again. But not right now cause you taste like a dirty trashcan.

And finally, I've discovered a new favorite hobby: scouring the internet for nursery ideas. Holy cow. I am addicted. Lots of pictures to follow I'm sure but it's almost scary how much time I can waste dreaming about decorating a nursery. The nesting instinct is in full force....or maybe it's just my inner Martha Stewart coming out of hiding. Either way I'm literally dreaming about glorious cribs and mobiles and gliders, oh my!

So that's that. Me and my blueberry turned raspberry are hanging at 8 weeks trying to remain calm.

Yesterday I completed my eighth half-marathon, and earned myself a PR on a course that was hilly, and wet from rain. Today I am sore and am controlled-falling down stairs, but I'm reflective on this accomplishment and want to blog the beast of thoughts in my head.

I haven't run in two half marathons in a single year since before kids, but coming off the last race in June, I knew I wanted to continue training into the fall for another go at the 13.1. For most of the summer, I trained alone and stuck to a fairly rigid schedule of 4-5 miles on Tuesday and Thursday mornings, leaving the house at 5:45 am or earlier. Then on Saturdays I'd do my long runs around 6:00 am and worked up from six miles to my longest of eleven miles the weekend before the race. I was used to the Tues, Thurs, Sat schedule from the training in the Spring, although the start times kept getting earlier and earlier with Nate's work schedule starting earlier during the week.

I downloaded a bunch of fun running music (i.e. lots of early 2000s pop and rap!) and hit the pavement by myself many times, but also occasionally with a friend or two. I found myself running faster and faster during these training runs, and started feeling stronger and less horrible after a run. My previous comfortable pace was right around 9:00 min/mile and all of my half marathons have been clocked right around the 2 hour mark. But I found myself averaging 8:45 min/miles and even sometimes 8:30 min/miles for 8, 9, and even 11 mile runs. This was huge! This was scary. This meant I could potentially pull a PR for the half as long as the stars aligned with weather, my GI system, and my mental stamina. I'd done the training and I knew it was time to push myself to run my fastest 13.1 miles yet. I was nervous, but excited, on Friday night before the race.

At the Expo with my helpers:


Saturday morning, I woke up at 5:15 am and did my usual pre-long run routine: half of a cup of coffee, a whole English muffin with PBJ, and water. I got dressed, stretched a little, pinned my race bib to my tank top, and started to feel the butterflies in my stomach. What if I had to make numerous port-potty stops during the race? My GI system had been iffy during a portion of my long training runs, for no other reason than to frustrate me. What if it was thundering and lightening and they cancelled the race? What if I just mentally freaked out at the need to push and focus on pace, and what if I bonked?



My friend, Cathy and her husband Nick picked me up at 6:20 for the race that began at 7:15. We made it to the Brewers baseball stadium in plenty of time for a porta-potty stop and some selfies.


Technically we were supposed to be in different corrals to start but we cheated and all three of us lined up in 'H', which was right at the 1:55 pace group. Going into this race, my personal best time was 1:57:23 and that was in 2015. I ran the Brewers mini marathon in 2013 and clocked 2:00:06, then promptly threw up in the parking lot afterward, because I was sick with a fever when I did that nonsense. I knew I would beat my old time at this race, and was pretty sure I could PR past the 1:57 mark, too. I my heart I really wanted to be 1:55 and knew because I ran my eleven miles at an 8:32 pace, that I could maybe inch towards the 1:51 mark if I really pushed myself. I did not take into account the mega-hills on this course because I blocked them from my memory. I sort of started remembering them when the murmur of the crowd mentioned 'crazy hills' at the start line. But even so, my first goal was to PR and second goal was to be less than 1:55.

The gun went off and the rain started right on cue, just enough to coat our skin with a wet mist but nothing major. We held an 8:40 pace for the first four miles and then I decided to push it a little bit, fearing that I'd go out way too fast and then crash at the end. I left Nick and Cathy at mile four and watched my Garmin to keep my pace closer to 8:20s, which felt super hard. The hills started coming, the rain got a little harder, and then it pretty much stopped.

By mile seven I started feeling a little panicked at this fast pace. I didn't have my headphones with me because I've never listened to music during a race. I think it's best to 'take in your surroundings' and let the other runners and spectators entertain you, but I've always had a running partner during races to keep me chatting away, too. This time I was alone and sort of bored, and over-thinking things beyond reason. Gah, six more miles at this pace? Is my heart beating out of my chest? I mean, my stomach feels awesome and my legs are good, but my mind is just freaking out a little bit.

At mile eight I pulled back to an 8:30 pace, just feeling really over the constant checking of my Garmin. I wanted to play music, because I did have my phone strapped to my arm, but without headphones I wasn't sure if other runners would appreciate my love for techno and 2000s rap. Also I didn't want to stop and hunt for my Spotify music app while I ran, so I trudged on without music and with too much mental talk in my head.

This race had a TON of aide stations, with a total of ten throughout the race. I think it was the first time that I didn't stop at every single water station, instead going for every-other station. I found two girls running together right ahead of me with a strong pace and decided to follow them the rest of the way. I wouldn't let them get too far ahead of me before I pushed harder to keep up. I envied their camaraderie and their headphones for music and vowed that next time I'd have my own headphones if I didn't have a running partner for the whole 13.1 miles.

Mile nine: I found myself running along side a military man carrying a flag on a pole (heavy!), and another guy ran up next to him and started talking. They were both military, one from Green Bay and one from D.C. The flag carrier was running in another half marathon the very next day, and the D.C. guy said he was just along for the ride on this race, with his wife 'at least ten minutes ahead of us'. I started talking to them, too, craving a distraction from my own thoughts in my tired brain. We didn't talk too long but it was just what I needed to get over a hump, because I knew that mile ten boasted two large hills.

One of the girls I was following had bolt for the porta-potty at the next aide station, and I saw her sternly tell her friend 'you keep going!'. So now I was following another lone ranger as we headed up the massive hill at mile ten. We hit another one right after that and my lungs were burning. I noticed my pace slowed to around 9:00 min/mile at the top of those hills and decided now was the time to plow forward, as the 1:55 pacer yelled out 'the rest is downhill, the hardest part is over!' I was pretty sure he was lying but knew I had to keep going anyway, and I hoped that he was going a little faster than his predicted pace because he was literally breathing down my neck. All of a sudden Nick sprinted past me at this point, saying Cathy set him free, and he was going for it! I asked him if she was okay, but he didn't hear me, and then I tried to keep up with him for about ten seconds before I realized there was no way in hell. He later told me he ran those last three miles at a 7:10 pace. HA! Nope.

I had two GPS trackers going on this day--one with my Garmin on my wrist, and one with Map My Run app talking to me on my phone. The app was on crack and was seriously calling out mile markers at least 0.25 before I'd actually hit them, which was such a false sense of excitement. Nothing like saying 'you've hit eleven miles at this amazing pace' when in reality, I still had a quarter of a mile to go and my pace was not nearly that fast, since it wasn't calculating my distance correctly. My Garmin did seem to be spot on, though, and I probably should have just turned off my phone at this point but didn't want to even expend the energy to go there.

Mile eleven came during a straight away, then we hit mile twelve and I could see the stadium. The glorious, glorious stadium. This entire time I was keeping my eyes out for Nate and the kids, because he was considering taking Truman and CC in the Burley on his bike to see me at various places. But I had told him that if it was raining, he shouldn't get them out in the rain and it would be fine to just see them at the finish line. He also told me that Truman really wanted to see me inside of the stadium, when we run by the dug outs right before mile 13. Since I didn't see them at mile twelve, I was pretty sure I'd see them in the stadium but I didn't want to get my hopes up too high.

We entered the stadium and I felt like I was sprinting at this point. Less than a mile to go and I knew I had to empty all of my energy into the last leg of the race. Sure enough, as I entered the stadium and started running on the dirt by the dug outs, I saw Nate first in the stands! Then I saw Truman, Cecelia, Porter, Tony and Lois next to him. I was so excited to see my crew and they were all smiles and waves, so how could I not get amped up with my cheering section in full effect? Porter had the sweetest half smile/half sad face on----like he was happy to see me but also confused about why I couldn't stop and hold him for a bit. I rounded the corner and passed my family, feeling like my legs might actually go numb from sprinting. But as I exited the stadium, I heard the finish line and knew 'this is it, almost done now.'





I saw the 13 mile marker, turned the corner, and saw the glorious finish line. I was sprinting and probably grunting and praying that my legs didn't just get tangled up underneath me. The main clock read 1:54:30 and I was guessing that I started about 30 seconds after the gun. I tried to remember to smile as I crossed the finish line, hit the stop button on my Garmin, and felt the immense relief of being FINISHED with a hard race!

I got a bottle of water, my medal, and then heard Nate yell, 'Julia!' directly to my right. I went over and suddenly felt extreme happiness and not as tired and I thought I'd be, just seeing their faces again. I got kisses from Nate and the kids and we talked briefly. 'How do you feel? What was your time?', Nate asked. 'I'm tired and I don't know,' I replied, as I handed him my phone and tried to figure out my Garmin. 'I think a little less than 1:54,' I told him and then we high-fived, before I went down the gauntlet to get all of my post-race food.

Although I wasn't super impressed with the expo before the race, the numerous aide stations during the race and the post-race food were both amazing! I got plantain chips, popcorn, Clif bars, Kind bars, bananas, both chocolate and vanilla protein drinks, string cheese, and more! I am not joking when I say that Porter ate 75% of this stuff within the first five minutes of us reuniting outside of the race gates. He was starving and is figuring out that watching half marathons means lots of food at the end! I am never very hungry after finishing a run and this time I just forced myself to drink water. Boring, I know, but at least the kids were happy!

We were all hanging out and talking, CC and Truman were really proud of me and kept hugging me, and Porter was in the double BOB just munching away. I got our family picture and then we noticed a man with a huge camera aiming it kind of towards us. He kept getting closer and then passed us, moving towards the stadium. I turned around and saw a guy proposing to his girlfriend right behind us!! She had just finished the race and he was wearing street clothes, he was down on one knee and she was crying with her hands at her mouth. I could not believe what I was seeing, such an awesome and emotional moment---I'm guessing the dude with the big camera was a hired photographer, and we noticed some of their family around them, too. Ah, what a day!!



The proposal aftermath!


Porter:


Next we hit up the playground, after failing to get a picture with Bernie Brewer because he went back inside of the stadium. Nick and Cathy met us at the playground. Cathy did well at a 2:04 finish time, and Nick's first half marathon time was 1:50. As we were chatting at the playground it started to pour, so we scattered about and gave a few more high-fives before parting ways. Tony, Lois, Nate, the kids and I ran to the van...or, more accurately, I hobbled. We headed home where I showered, did one errand with CC, we ate lunch, and then Porter and I both took 2.5 hour long naps while Nate and the big kids attended a birthday party. Yes, two-and-a-half hours! It was almost as amazing as my shower that day.








My official time for this race was 1:53:51, which is an 8:42 pace for the 13.1 miles. I really felt like I was going faster than this pace for the race, but I'm pretty sure the hills were more than my 8:30 pace could handle. I know that during the race I kept telling myself, 'No regrets, you are truly going as fast as you can without overdoing it. No regrets. This is the fastest race you can possibly run right now!' So I'm going with that mentality, because it really was such a great race. I found out what it means to push myself and care about my pace. I found out what it means to PR by three-and-a-half minutes. I beat my previous Brewers half race time by almost seven minutes!



Ha, I wish my pace was that amazing! Definitely did not run 13.70 miles, Map My Run :(


Pretty good official stats! I've definitely never been 27th for my age group!




I am officially much faster now than I was before I birthed three children. This fact is something that has me thinking a lot about what our bodies can do. We, as women, are so incredibly strong. We are powerful and determined. We grow tiny humans inside of our bodies, birth them into this world, sustain them and raise them. We take care of our families and we take care of ourselves. We do SO MUCH as women, as moms, and wives, and we often don't give ourselves enough credit. We doubt ourselves, we beat ourselves up for perceived failures, we often feel like we are spread too thin and we absolutely deplete ourselves when we try to do.it.all. And yet, we really can do anything we set our minds to do, can't we? I'm feeling very #GirlPower right now, in case you can't tell.

Running used to be something I did to stay in shape during college. I was never a long distance runner in high school, because I had basketball and volleyball practices and games to keep me active. Then college came and I ran to burn some calories and cancel out the late night partying that happened after studying my face off. After college I kept running pretty casually and we ran our first half marathon in 2005, at a 10:00 min/mile pace.

Then came our kids and running took a back seat to motherhood for awhile. Slowly but surely, I started to see running for what it is right now in my life: a coping mechanism. A stress reliever. A way to take charge of my time and myself, to feel accomplished and more in control of a sometimes chaotic and and very loud life. It calms me, it sets my day off in a positive light, and it allows me to be a better, more patient mother. As I age, I fully realize how blessed I am to have this capable, healthy, imperfect body of mine. I can run when others cannot. That right there is reason enough for me to continue as a Mother Runner.

Faster now than I was before my children came along, I can tell you with all certainty that I love running. Or at least, I love the feeling of accomplishment after a run. I'm sure many of you can relate.  :)

In the name of 'keeping it real' for you, dear readers, this post is going to contain complaints. A smidge of whininess. A veil of negativity. Because everything is NOT awesome at all times over here and I feel I owe it to you and to myself to write about the challenges and difficult moments we've been having, instead of just focusing on the happy stuff.

Porter turns eight weeks tomorrow and since I skipped his weekly post last week, I'll turn this sob-fest into an update about our boy.

(Siblings are still madly in love, we all are, really!)




Overall, Porter is still freaking awesome. He is smiling so much that it's almost too much to handle the cuteness. He might even be getting close to a chuckle here and there with all of those open mouthed grins he flashes our way. Oh, the validation that comes with a simple smile, assuring me that this child DOES actually like me a little bit.

Could you die?








We've been calling him so many ridiculous nicknames, but we just cannot stop the madness: Portie, Porter-P, Port, and P-man are all favorites around here. Cecelia will regularly ask 'Where Porter P?' and she tells strangers that is his name when they ask. Whoops. I sort of love it though. And doesn't he look like a 'Portie'???



One big change in the past week is that we all re-joined our gym and even put all three kids on the membership this time. Mister social has been awesome in the 'Kids Clubhouse' and seems to be the star of the show. Many of the workers in the baby area are grandmas and cannot get enough of Porter---so they do not mind to honor his request and hold him the entire time. I was worried he would scream during my workouts and they would have to come and get me, but so far that hasn't been the case. I'm only gone for about an hour or so and I have to time our feedings and diaper changes to happen right before we leave, so it's been fine in the five times I've gone so far. He usually doesn't sleep there but he does seem really happy and stimulated when I return, so that's a big event for this little man. Being watched by someone other than family? Check!

(hanging out at the duplex before dinner with the in-laws---such a sweet moment sitting on their porch with my boy, reminiscing about the days we spent with baby Truman here).


The only time he will really truly cry is when he is over-tired, hungry, or overstimulated. He still loves to be swaddled, sucking on the pacifier, and walking around with us. If he is particularly fussy, we will do all of those things OUTSIDE and he will usually calm down right away.

He also loves selfies, obvi.


His naps are all over the place and he is making it known that crib naps will not be met without a major fight. One day he DID sleep in the crib for 2 hours but that included one nursing session and one cuddling from mommy to make it through. Otherwise he will only sleep for 15 minutes in there and will be done, but obviously SO tired. He sleeps in the Ergo and in my arms like a charm though. Go figure. Really looking forward to a time when his naps are more scheduled because right now we have no idea if he will sleep for 15 minutes and be awake for 2 hours or vice versa. Still a newborn with this part of life, for sure!

A particularly awesome swaddle by me, right before he napped in the crib for 2 hours. Big time.


He's nursing well, usually every three hours or so during the day. Porter will make it obvious when he is full, by pulling off and squirming around, as if to say, 'That's enough of that, lady, do something else with me!'. Which is great because he seems to be old enough to actually interact with us a little more! I completely forgot about the play-yard we had in the attic, but I pulled it out last week and he loves staring up at his little friends as they frantically swing past his head (since his siblings cannot let him play ALONE, duh). P loves ceiling fans and will stare at them happily for some time if he's in the right mood, and I even caught him flashing his gummy grin at a ceiling fan the other day. Sweet boy just seems so happy. Most of the time.

Chunk thighs!!!


Hi, friends.


The flip side is this: he still HATES his car seat and he's not sleeping the best anymore. Which means I'm pretty much emotionally spent after every trip we take in the van, hearing my baby scream so hard I think he might gag. And I'm sleep deprived, hence the negative veil over life right now. Here me out so we can move onto happier things: but the crappy stuff must also be recorded in the name or REALITY with a third baby.

The car seat thing is not totally new to us, since I remember Cecelia hating it, too. But her eight week post did not mention this horror anymore and it just seems like Porter is not getting even a teensy bit better with time. He seriously screams hysterically from about 5 minutes into the car ride until I pull him out once we've reached our destination: both of us sweating, he has scratched his face, tears rolling down his cheeks. It is just dreadful and seriously affects how we plan our days, obviously. I posted about this on IG and FB and got some really awesome ideas to try----like removing the infant insert, covering up the window since it seems like it's motion sickness (not mad until we are moving, not really mad when in the seat inside the stroller), using extreme white noise, and maybe even considering a convertible car seat. I mean, he has fallen asleep ONE TIME EVER so far, so it's not like I would miss the ease of moving him from place to place without interrupting a nap. I'm desperate here. This sucks.

(He really does hate it, swear)


Another thing that totally sucks? Sleep deprivation that slowly builds up to the point of mental instability. Porter used to be a great sleeper, frequently stretching 4-5 hours at a time, with 1-2 wake ups per night. I figured it wouldn't last and it hasn't, because in the past week it's just gotten so....sloppy around here. Last weekend I started putting Porter in his crib at night, inside the Boppy for a little elevation that he seems to like. I started to miss the kid-free 'unwinding' hours after bedtime, because I was holding him while he slept in the evening and then carrying him upstairs when I went to bed myself. So therefore, I started placing him in the Boppy in the crib instead of just holding him after the big kids went to bed. It is really nice to form some sort of bedtime routine with all of the kids and the unwinding from 8-10pm is truly magical.

He will usually sleep for about 4 hours in the crib, which takes us to 11-12am. Not bad. But I've also started nursing him in the glider and attempting to replace him in the boppy/crib without luck. Usually I will fall asleep sitting upright in the rocker and now my neck and back are all jacked up. If I do remain awake despite the incredibly sleepy nursing sessions, Porter will either snap his eyes open immediately upon being laid in the Boppy or he will sleep for an hour MAX after that first wake up. Last night he was awake five times total, and nearly every hour from 3-6 am. If I cave and just take the kid into our bed with us (gasp, I know!!) he isn't the best at nursing side lying so constantly having my boob out for a non-stop milk sesh doesn't really work either. Sitting up in bed to nurse = jacked back and accidentally falling asleep again.

As I type this, I have him in the nursery in the swing to see if that works for bedtime like it did when he was just a few weeks old. Aaaaannnnd 50 minutes into sleeping in the swing he was crying and wanted to eat. Awesome. It's not even 9:00 yet but my baby has already woken up once for the night, so we aren't even getting a good stretch at first now. Blech. Maybe it's a growth spurt? I like to blame everything on those.

(update: he did sleep from 9-2am after that first wake up, which is awesome! Then was awake to eat again at 4, 5, and 6. Meh.)

My life blood:


I'm with you, P.


So basically, it's been about a week of this nonsense when I'm so tired at night I don't even know how many times we've nursed. Waking up at 11 or 12 for the first time, and then 1-2 hours thereafter isn't the WORST but holy hell, it's pretty bad. It all adds up over the days, too, and starts accumulating this giant black cloud over my head that makes me think, 'This is awful, I'm a horrible mom, my kids obviously all hate me and won't listen to me EVER.' Really productive thoughts, I know, but I'm sure many of you out there can relate to the nightmare of sleep deprivation. I've been here many times with the other kids and hope we figure something out with Porter soon. I realize he is only eight weeks old which is why I feel so torn between 'must be strict with a schedule and get our lives back on track' and 'he's too little anyway, just do what works and don't stress.' This is why it feels so sloppy and inconsistent because I am too tired to decide what to do, if anything, about this change in his sleep.

No, it's not the end of the world. Yes, newborns mean sleep deprivation and I knew this was coming. But still--I think the lack of sleep combined with a lot of other 'life factors' that I will not get into right now, make everything worse. I had another paragraph here full of complaints/anxieties not related to Porter but deleted it. Because really, life is good even when it's sort of murky and tiring.

Love watching the kids at night!


Writing this all out makes me realize that both the car seat and lack of sleep both show that Porter really just prefers to be held. If I could stand up and walk around with him all night he'd surely sleep like a charm. And if we were in the 1940s when people just held their babies in the car, he would be fantastic. Alas, no such luck. My little cuddle bug sure knows how to turn on the charm and MAKE me want to hold him at all times but it's just not feasible, little guy!

He really isn't so little anymore and mostly seem so LONG these days, but I have no idea what he weighs. I do know that reading Truman's eight week post makes Porter seems super skinny (though still bigger than Cecelia was) because T was a porker!! Porter is still in 3 month clothes but could definitely bump up to 3-6 soon because of his length. I love his chunky thighs and his super alert eyes that make him seem like a REAL baby now, and not so much of a newborn.

Also, I really love to dress him in stripes. And yes, the bowties were made by my mom and are freaking adorable. Nothing like dressing him to the nines on a random Tuesday 'just because.' Ha!


So really, besides all of that garbage up there about the car and sleep, things are good. I'm just tired and not in the best mental place because of it, but I know it will eventually get better. Because Porter is still the best and those smiles? They absolutely help with the crappy moments. He is such a sweet, happy baby and we all love him so much. Now only if he would sleep better at night and tolerate traveling by van....gotta have goals, I suppose!

Love you, Porter-P. You are the best.