Thursday Baby.

Eeeeek.















Ooooo.














Aaaaaa.















Haaaaaa.

I'm a Big Girl.

On the job...

These pictures were taken by Daddy in the work truck. Notice Eleanor's new "big girl" pose, on which she basically insists.

I must be a natural complainer...

...because Eleanor is actually an awesome sleeper. I am always like, "I am so exhausted, just so tired", bleh, eh, waa. And, I say it because it is true, but maybe it is because I am severely anemic, or fat, or lazy, or my days are hard, but it certainly isn't for lack of opportunities to sleep. At this moment, it is 3:19 am, and I am up pumping because Miss Eleanor has been asleep since, oh, 8:30 pm. That's right, going on 7 hours. And, she may want to eat at 4 am, or so, but after that she will likely sleep on in until until daylight. That z fest is all followed by a nap around 10 am, and another long one from about 1 pm to 3 pm. And, maybe a couple of catnaps in between. So, hmm, that totals 14 hours, approximately, of sleep. Now, I just need to ween myself off of checking on her literally every FIVE minutes, even at night. Maybe that's why I'm tired...

Football Season.

Our precious Redskins and Terps have begun their respective seasons. And, the Redskins are undefeated - two wins closer to the Superbowl. Hmm.

Continued.

A favorite I forgot to post from the "Eleanor in Pink" series. :o) Silly face.

Postscript.

Whoever said breastfeeding helps you lose weight is wrong, stupid, and a liar.

Cliches, Codes, What May Be Euhpemisms.

So, the other day, Bill and I were in the kitchen, and the inevitable happened. (Keep in mind, it happens every so often.) I spilled a bit of breast milk on the counter. Now, I happened to be sane at the moment, thank goodness. Because if I was the fang-bearing wreck I've been this morning, I likely would have kicked the dog, dishwasher, chair, or breakfront - whatever was in the reachable diameter of my kamikaze legs. And, smartly, Bill looked at me, horrified, and shrank away, knowing that I am predictably unpredictable in my reactions. But, I wasn't in "that kind of mood". So, I just chuckled (somewhat creepily given my penchant for flying into a psychotic rage at the least provocation), and used the phrase, "Don't cry over spilled milk." Immediately, I had the not-so-novel epiphany that most breast feeding mothers must reach - that phrase was made up in response to breast milk. There is no doubt that throughout time women have been crying over spilled milk. Imagine a cave woman, becoming engorged while baby sleeps, and grunting to caveman for a hollowed gourd in which to express breast milk for later. And, when cave baby inevitably wakes up three minutes later, cave mother reaches for the gourd, only to accidentally knock it to the slate cave floor. She cries. Imagine, the scenario throughout space and time, tears and breast milk intermingling on hay-strewn castle floors, the dirt outside a grass hut, Formica counter tops, candle lit hideaways, and carpeted family rooms. It is not just a euphemism for something else, not a metaphor for "bucking up". It is a real life positive assertion women have been trying to convince themselves of for millenia. I guess, though, if you can keep the tears from welling up when you've spilled your baby's life sustenance that you expressed from your own body, you can take anything in stride.

Next on my list, the way people always say, "As soon as you have your baby, you won't be able to remember what it was like without her." Well, they were right. But, I always thought they meant, "It will be so wonderful that you won't be able to imagine that you ever did without." True, again, BUT, they really mean, "You literally will have a brick wall separating you from the memories of life before baby." It is not a cute way of saying that life with baby is awesome (although that is also true); it is a cute way of saying, you will become so sleep deprived and simply insane that your memory span will immediately discard anything not necessary for the multi-tasking at that very moment in time.

One more. "Sleep now to store up for when baby comes." Hmm, another lie. Sleep simply doesn't work like that. I mean, if I'd slept more three months ago, I can hardly imagine I'd be less crazy right now. What they mean is, sleep now because when the baby comes you'll never. Sleep. Again.

My sweet soft hearted baby.

Eleanor Loves...

Sleeping

Smiling

Laughing

Eating

Sitting up

Alone time

Her reflection

Dancing in mommy's arms

Showering with mommy

Leaves

Sunshine

Crying

Talking

Daddy

Music

TV

Fussing

Kicking

Dim light

Walks

Daddy's guitar

Mommy's singing

Her new words -

Meh

Aheh

Agoo

Eahh

Nya

Yah

Aaaah

Dga

Ehaheh

Getting Big.

Well, Eleanor is almost three months old. I've been so busy that I haven't been so good about updating my blog, or even writing in general. But, Eleanor is thriving over here and we've got plenty going on to keep her busy! Take a look at these shots. The first is from our first week with our sweet lady. And, the second was taken today. :o)