{A Charming View}

{Face Lift}

Please excuse the mess as I try to create a new look. Updating the blog is much safer than changing my hair color.

{Time Is On My Side...Except When It's Not}

I distinctly remember being 3 months pregnant. I was so thankful for hitting the 12 week mark. I felt safe, but I was wishing away the next 6 months. I was dreaming of nursery decor, ultrasounds, and birth plans, all the while finally sharing our happy news with friends and family. Little did I know those six months would be some of the longest of my life.

I also remember being 6 months pregnant. I was sure that I was going to be pregnant forever and never would the day arrive where I would hold my sweet baby. I felt like it had been decades since I saw that first pink line. I, the house, the family we were all ready for R. He however needed a few more months. Time dragged on. and on. and on.

R is officially six months old. Somehow we entered a bizarre time paradox upon his birth and now the days speed by unaware of my need for them to slow. I still stare at him in amazement, unable to believe he grew inside of me. He is a real person now. He smiles and laughs, his momma's laugh, a full belly laugh that rolls one into another until the tip of his nose is red. He "talks" for an hour at a time and is only still when he's sleeping. Well, semi-still when he's sleeping. I used to spend hours awake at night fretting over him sleeping on his back, worrying he would roll or, or just any number of other atrocities I can't bear to type. Now, he sleep on his belly, knees to chest, diaper padded butt in the air with his mouth wide open and his daddy's snore. His newborn onesies didn't fit until he was nearly a month old. Now, he sits up on his own and nearly jumps out of his jumper. He is more like a toddler than a newborn. I can only vaguely recall his sweet new baby smell that brought tears to my eyes instantly. His eyes, though, they haven't changed. The way he stares into mine, straight into my heart and soul, reminds me that he knows me. He's heard my heart beating from the inside. And still, when he snuggles into me at night, he lays his head on my chest and holds my heart in the palm of his hand.

{Insomnia}

No, not me. I have never had a problem sleeping. I have been known to sleep until three in the afternoon only to wake up for dinner and head back to bed. Don't judge. Try it. It is a bit of heaven wrapped up in total guilty pleasure. Those days are long gone now though. Apparently, they are now joined in the abyss of lost socks by my darling son's ability to sleep for more than an hour. Read: I no longer sleep due to banshee screams. I thought the newborn stage was supposed to be the worst. Which brings me to the most important part of this post, I know I look tired. Don't tell me. If you must just say what you really mean because I'm way to tired to smile and nod at your "Damn, you look like shit!" coded fake interest.

In other OMG worthy news...my babe turns 6 months old tomorrow. What the eff? How did that happen. More to come on my feelings on this tomorrow. However, how sad is it that one of my first thoughts about his half b-day is "really, it's been six months and my abs still look like this".

I die....S.W.O.O.N

as in, my son is So Wildly, Obviously, Obscenely, Next to Godly perfect. See evidence below.

From Spring Rowan

I know, pick your jaw up off the floor. He's destined for GQ.

{Perfection}

I have always derived the utmost joy from ignoring the responsibilities and requirements of life and just existing. You know lying in bed an extra hour on Saturday, wide awake but reading and listening to the bustle of everyone else filling the house with their discussions, distractions, and cleaning always cleaning...or cooking. Lounging in the bathtub even though I know I should get out to write lesson plans or finally let E use the bathroom. I value these opportunities as my me time, until now.

Because now, there is R.
And my me time is we time.

And my we time is perfection.

Serious, puppies dogs sliding down rainbows after a spring shower into a pot of gold, perfection. Or, if you will, television stations magically aligning to allow for a whole day marathon of David Boreanaz, preferably filled with shirtlessness, perfection.

I love filling my me moments with him. Sometimes I want to lock the two of us in a bubble so that I can just watch him and hold him but then I realize how much we would miss out on. Splashing with our feet in a warm bubble bath. Walking around the outdoor mall and screaming over the stroller at each person who passed. Practicing talking to E only to prove that his preference of "heeeyyy" over hi, or hello, the preference which I instilled cannot be broken. Pulling Jasper's hair, because if a soft pat is good and hard yank must be better. Learning to give kisses and hugs. Saying "momma" and using it correctly even if it was just a one in fifty occurrence. So instead I settle, and long, for our Saturday mornings when it is just the two of us, our "Momma and RowRow" days. I awake to giggles and squeals of delight to find R eating his toes or watching the birds out the window. We cuddle over a bottle, share a few stories, and then lay down for our morning nap. The fact that we have only been awake 45 minutes is ignored and we cuddle, he in the crook of my arm, sun streaming through the window, my face in his hair and his in my chest, and we sleep.

Because now, there is R.
And my me time is we time.

And my we time is perfection.

{This is My Therapy}

Today was the first day of spring break. I laid in bed all morning cuddling my sweet, sweet boy and realizing that he is hardly the baby I brought home nearly 5 months ago. Then, we sang, played, and napped some more. It was, by far, the best spring break to date. He is such a gift.

In addition to my already amazing life I am now the proud owner of an awesome camera. Perfect for capturing every moment of our stellar life.