Catch Up

Photos of the LFM's Bris (at 8 days old), In which he was much braver and cried far less than his woos of a mother.

I know, I know... I have yet to expound on the many fabulous and adorable qualities of our most excellent monkey, his highness the king of cuteness and super stinky farts. Time is not on my side, no it ain't. We're having some frustrations with breastfeeding, which I really don't want to talk about until it's all resolved, but these frustrations not only make me want to repeatedly bang my head against a wall, they also are incredibly time consuming. I am chained to this apartment and the pump, for the most part. Now for the first 2-3 weeks I wanted nothing more than to stay in the apartment, in our wonderful cozy birth den. But now, a month into it, I'm ready for a little more flexibility than I'm currently afforded.

But I'm not going to spend the precious few moments I have focusing on the negative. Instead, I'm going to tell you how amazing and funny and fun motherhood is. Yes, even at 4am.

The LFM thinks both WB and I must be covered in nipples, and if he just tries hard enough, he'll find one. He's like the world's cutest woodpecker, constantly hurling himself at our bodies in search of a nipple. Sometimes when he's nursing, he lets go of the nipple and then gets super panicky about it and suddenly the missing nipple is a 4 alarm fire in his little world and all systems are kicked into overdrive until the nipple is safely rescued from oblivion and lovingly put back into his screaming mouth. We're certain that when he dreams, he dreams of a giant boob with arms and legs, cradling him in heavenly comfort. And when he has little baby nightmares, its of the boob, on a train, wearing a 1940's hat with veil, and waving an embroidered handkerchief from the train window as the steam engines roar to life and the train begins chugging away with poor little Jonah running behind it screaming for his beloved boob.

Clearly we are sleep deprived.

He does talk to it- he babbles this adorable babble only when he's nursing. I'm certain he's composing brilliant love poems- odes to the boobs. It cracks me up when he does it.

But the most amazing thing of all- the most wonderous beautiful thing in the whole world- is when my litttle monkey smiles at me, sending rays of light from his enormous dark eyes. Its the most indescribably joyous thing. And no, its not gas, its definitely in response to what I'm doing. And its my favorite thing in the whole world.