Fat Knees

A few days ago I took my kids to a nearby children's museum. It was one of those days when the stars aligned and I got out of the house when everyone was relatively happy and not hungry and not sleepy. Of course, with a little babe and a toddler who still takes a three-hour nap, that kind of window of time is fleeting. But we jumped on it and things actually went swimmingly while we were there. I carried Jacob in a Moby wrap so I could be hands-free but still part of the action, and he is easygoing enough that he didn't complain too much even after he got tired. So we had a really nice time.

Don't kid yourself that it was all bliss, though. Tears started before we got to the parking lot, and by the time we got everyone buckled in (twenty minutes later) and then arrived at home, one child had to be carried straight to her room without passing go. Another was ready for a nap twenty-minutes-ago-already and the third was hungry and tired and this-close to being past reason. Like I said, a successful outing.

While we were still at the museum, I started chatting with a girl who had a two-year-old (running around with her husband) and a very very tiny baby---only two weeks old! Her baby was still a whole pound bigger than Jacob was when he was born, but he looked so incredibly small and made Jacob look so incredibly giant. She said she had noticed me alone with three kids--everyone relatively happy--and just thought, "No way! I'll never ever ever be to that point on my own." Seriously, that's how it feels when you're only two weeks past giving birth. It's hard to imagine a day when you'll all feel normal again, even if you're feeling pretty good physically and loving the pieces out of your sweet little newborn.

The being-able-to-handle-things-again type of competence always creeps up on me. One day we are eating peanut butter-oatmeal-chocolate chip cookies for breakfast (protein! oats!), and then suddenly I realize everyone is eating three decent meals again and I've only been waking up once a night for the baby to have a quick meal and we are going out in public with only the usual meltdowns. For me that usually happens around three months. Not that life is totally crazy for three months after having a baby, but it takes about that long for us to really settle into a new groove and for the days that I'm winning to vastly outnumber the days that I'm not.

And my goodness. Then I see my baby next to a two-weeker and realize that HE IS A MAN! Jacob actually just turned seven months old this week. SEVEN MONTHS! I'm equal parts mad at him for being so old and adoring his sweet little personality. He's so fat and delicious; I love him. Check out the fat pads on his knees! I've never had a baby with such fat little knees. He is sitting up on his own and rolling around like crazy and trying his mightiest to crawl, although it really translates to moving all of his limbs as fast as possible while he's high-centered on his belly. He has several teeth and is eating solid food and laughing at his sisters and just generally charming us to bits.

I like this mother gig. Even though they really do grow up way too fast.