Good grief the days are flying by. Work gets crazier, Osh gets bigger, the garden spills baskets of tomatoes and peppers and squash into our kitchen. It's still hot as hell but in the dead of night I can feel fall lurking in the shadows. In the wee dark morning hours I stand in the kitchen, drinking water and soaking up the sound of the katydids, my favorite hallmark of summer. Not long for them now.
My mum has been to visit, and I cannot say here how completely awesome it is to see your mom fall in love with your kid. They snuggled and rolled on the floor and he shined his gazillion watt smile her way and she was a goner.
We do not dress this guy very often, it's so friggin' hot that he's either naked or just barely, but one afternoon a chilly breeze rolled through and we played dress up...
That swirl. Effing. Kills me.
Who wouldn't be? The guy is so cool. Yesterday when I came home from work I flopped on the floor and read my book to him and he talked and smiled and wiggled himself to sleep and my heart nearly burst just watching his little (big) hands clutch and unclutch a piece of my shirt. We spend pretty much zero time trying to get him to sleep, he just has a loose routine and conks out regularly throughout the day. Nights have fallen into a steady pattern - snacks at 1 and 4 please, some crib time in the early early morning so that he can snort and snuffle as he pleases and we can sleep. Yesterday during the wiggling and smiling I found myself, really for the first time, thinking, "Oh god, he won't do this forever" and I had to try not to squeeze him too hard in my moment of panic and crazy desire to freeze time. That toothless baby smile will live in my brain forever as a piece in my collection of things that mean love.
Ya know, usual caveat about my camera making everything look like poo...
I have been baking like a freak. Fresh fig and honey cream galette, from my go-to fruit book. Brown butter peach bars (fucking labor intensive and dial back the sugar, but yum). Breastfeeding will do that to you I guess.
Speaking of breasts, can I just take a moment here to lament that my boobs are preventing me from wearing about 95% of my clothing? I feel that I was very patient with the sartorial sacrifices of pregnancy. I bought and wore two pair of pants for the entirety of the my-old-clothes-don't-fit stages (and they were identical). Two! For something like six months! You all know that I am a complete clothes whore, so let's hear it for my spartan success in this department. So, you know, I was mildly excited to open up the closet and don something from my life-as-a-skinny-girl. Forget it! Waists zip up with little protest, but good luck stuffing these gals into anything tailored. Even t-shirts feel a little shocking, after years of having boobs that were pretty much an afterthought. I look in the mirror and find myself thinking "Mmm, chesty." (Yes, I am a dirty old man about even my own rack.) ANYWAY. It will be cardigan weather soon enough, surely those will still fit?
May your favorite clothes fit today.