This month almost killed me. I know I’ve said that before, but this time it was for an entirely different reason. This time I’m beginning to realize that when you decide to have a child, you’re signing up for thanking Jesus every night that you made it through one more day. I’ve stopped waiting for
This month almost killed me. The sleep deprivation beat me to the bottom of a hole and had me begging for mercy. I had lunch with a friend one day and had the following conversation: Friend: So we traded in our car for a Pittance. Me: A Pittance? Nice. And who makes the Pittance again?
David is four months old today. After spending so much time waiting and wishing for the big three month milestone, it seems four months came in a flash. Is this what moms talk about when they say babies grow up too fast? Or maybe it’s just the Christmas season. Yes, that must be it. He’s
We did it. We survived the fourth trimester. Our baby is three months old. Oh, David, don’t look so surprised. I’ve been waiting for this milestone. Anticipating. Dreaming. Imagining. There’s lots of hype about having a three-month old. First I read my sister’s take on three months. Then I stumbled across rumors on the Internet
Our little guy is two months old. Well, maybe I shouldn’t say little. He does weigh 13.2 lbs, wears 3-6 month clothes, and is in the 90th percentile for height and weight. When people see him, they always guess that he’s 3 months old. (At what age does that stop? When I look big people
What a difference a month makes. Four weeks ago today I was very grumpy, very pregnant, and relatively certain my pregnancy was a permanent condition (which I think every woman starts wondering somewhere around 39 weeks). (grumpy? yes.) I was particularly irritable toward people who suggested I eat at a certain restaurant, see a certain