So, did anyone notice anything special about the picture I posted? Anyone? Bueller?

Look a little closer and you'll see that my baby girl's scrumptious cheeks are RASH FREE! Thank you, Aveeno baby wash and Hydrocortisone cream. No more angry red hives or crusty ears. Now I can move on to worrying about other things, like that annoying flat spot she's developing from having a right side preference, or that her poop may possibly not be the right shade of honey Dijon yellow. Lets hope I learn to stop obsessing over everything by the time she's twelve.



My emotional state has improved tenfold in the past week or so. Thanks, in part, to a massive blow out in which I aired all my thoughts and fears to DH and he thankfully didn't declare me loony toons and run for the hills. And also thanks to a baby who sleeps amazingly well so I haven't had to deal with any sleep deprivation thus far.

I used to think that a newborn being a good sleeper was a myth and anyone who said they had one was lying through their teeth (although I still secretly hated them and wanted to land a swift punch right in their well-rested eye). A quick read through my archives will have you understanding the sleep hell I dealt with when Beckett was a baby. But Avonlea is different. I now know that easy babies DO exist. I also know I had every reason to hate those bitches because it is A-FLIPPING-MAZING. You're free to hate me, too. But I was about due for an easy one this time around, if you ask me. DH is loving it too, because it means he doesn't have to walk a stroller around the block at three in the morning every. single. day. Thanks for that, Beckett. Yes, the man is a saint.

I should probably stop talking about it now, because my superstitious subconscious won't stop whispering that it's going to come back and bite me in the ass in a couple months. That'd be my luck.

We have a busy weekend ahead, filled with cleaning and packing and my first Tupperware party tomorrow. (Which, by the way, if you're just dying to get your hands on some air-tight-sealed goodness, jump over to my website!) Avonlea has an appointment with our chiropractor tomorrow afternoon to deal with this pesky side preference. Sunday will be devoted to packing, making lists, checking off those lists and then checking again to make sure I haven't forgotten anything, as well as cat-proofing the house so they can't destroy anything while we're gone. And then we're leaving bright and early Monday morning for the 8-hour trip to the land of cheese curds and no cell phone service, aka Wisconsin.

Eight hours.

With three kids.

I have a feeling the DVD player in the Pilot will become my new best friend, so much so that I may want to name my next child after it, much like babies end up being named Bob or Gary thanks to a good anesthesiologist. Samsung Melban has a nice ring to it.

So. We are five days into being a family of five. Five! Five days seems ridiculously small when you're talking about something that will be around for the rest of your life, but also incredibly long when you remember being in a moment of feeling that the pain would never end and OMG THIS BABY IS NEVER COMING OUT. So yeah, wow, it's already been five days since I experienced that and conquered it. Tomorrow is Saturday, and then it's Sunday, and then Monday morning will dawn, Shelby will go back to work and I'll be thrust into dealing with three children by myself. Which is, in a word, terrifying.

But I'm getting ahead of myself. Lots of people have been asking how the baby is, and how the boys are doing and if they are in love with their sister. The answers are wonderful, pretty good considering, and most of the time.

Avonlea is fabulous and beautiful and perfect. She's a great nurser, is letting us get a fair amount of sleep and seems to be in perfect working order as far as five-day-old babies go. She's a pretty chilled out baby, which I'm scared to get excited about since Beckett was such a hellbeast, but I'm hoping our luck continues in that area. Her umbilical stump fell off today and I totally cried because she's changing so much already and um, wasn't it just a few days ago that she was still INSIDE ME? Sheesh.

The boys are really doing fantastic, considering their world has just been dramatically interrupted by this tiny pink yelling creature. Sawyer doesn't seem to be phased much at all. He goes about his day as he normally would, occasionally walking over to ask if he can hold "his baby." He likes to tell me about the things he's going to do with her when she's bigger, his favorites being play tag and drive with his cars. Beckett has been acting out a small bit, but doesn't seem to be jealous. I've been making it a point to give him lots of cuddles and remind him that he's still my baby too. He's incredibly sweet and loves to kiss her head, and when she yells he asks, "What did she say?" Too stinkin' cute.

And Shelby is, of course, amazing. He is the perfect husband and perfect daddy and there are several moments throughout each day that I look at him and am just overcome with emotion at how I got so lucky. That sounds ridiculously cheesy, but guys, this man is seriously the kind you just don't find very often. He makes me dinner, gets me Dunkin' Donuts whenever I want and watches the baby in the evenings so I can get a few hours of sleep. Avonlea has him wrapped about a dozen times tightly around her finger and it is absolutely adorable to watch.

And then there's me. Ha. I'm doing.. okay. Mostly okay. But sometimes not okay at all. Physically, I'm healing rapidly. Thanks to a fabulous waterbirth I have no tears to worry about, which is awesome. I'm not too fatigued and the afterpains are finally gone (HATE those suckers). My belly is shrinking and I'm counting down the weeks until I can start exercising and get my body back. Oh, how I can't wait to have my body back. I feel so unattractive right now. I know that will come with time though.

Mentally? Emotionally? Well, that's a different story. The first couple days were great. I felt on top of the world, completely overjoyed with my baby girl and had a constant smile on my face. I was inviting visitors to come see us the day after she was born. My midwife visited on Tuesday and warned that some moms experience a flood of emotions on the third day and I admit it - I fully expected to skip that whole bit.

And then the third day came. With it came the tears. Oh my goodness, the tears. Out of absolutely nowhere and for absolutely no reason. I'd be standing at the counter eating a bite of chicken and just start bawling. I began to feel panicked, anxious, overwhelmed and sad. The What Ifs started flowing in. What if I can't handle this at all when Shelby goes back to work? What if she's a high-needs baby like Beckett was? What if I just lose it in the middle of the day and I have no one to call, no one to rescue me?

There is also extreme sorrow over not having my family here, my mom in particular. When Sawyer was born, she had a flexible job and we could go visit her at work every single day. She lived two blocks away and could swoop in any time I needed her, for any reason. Then came Beckett, and although she was working a different job, she was still available almost all the time and if it weren't for that, I'd have gone insane. So to not have her here at ALL? With a brand new baby? It is killing me. I miss her so much. Nothing could have prepared me for how crippling it is to need someone near you and they just can't be there in person. Phone is wonderful - she has already saved me more than once just with calming words. But it's not the same.

Then there is the worry that the mental and emotional havoc I dealt with just a couple months before I got pregnant will return, in the form of horrible post-partum depression. I am scared. I still have my medication and I could easily start taking it again, but the thought of going back down that road of dependency is a double-edged sword. I have a gorgeous, healthy new daughter and a wonderfully supportive family. I should be bursting with happiness and it angers me that I let irrational worries cloud that positivity.

For now, I'm trying to just take it a day at time. Enjoy the moment and not worry about what will come tomorrow, because when it comes, I'll handle it - do I really have any other option?

Last night was a rough one but today has been good. I have to keep my focus on the good. And right this moment there is a daddy cooing at a tiny little baby as she kicks her feet and gazes at him with her big blue eyes - sounds like something pretty good I don't want to miss. Goodnight for now.

Another week gone by with no blog posts! What is wrong with me? I haven't really been keeping up with Bloglines either and have dozens of unread blogs to pick through. But you know, it's actually kind of nice to not be chained to the internet so much lately. I've been sewing a lot, crafting a lot, learning to knit, and most of all enjoying my boys before they are no longer just "the boys." The Boys plus a girl. Eep!

Anyway, just wanted to make sure everyone knows I'm still alive.

Two of my three adorable men:


The third one getting in some big brother practice with my friend's adorable baby girl:


And some of Sawyer's artistic handiwork. The person on the left with the pink hair is me. Second from the right is Darth Vader, according to him. And above us are the sun, moon and rain clouds all at once. Genius.

Happy Easter from Sawyer and Beckett from Alicia Melban on Vimeo.

Okay, so it's not really that bad. But I thought I would warn you squeamish folks up front.

As of last night, I have officially completed one of the Milestones of Motherhood: the first trip to the Emergency Room for stitches. Surprisingly, we haven't had to do this yet with Sawyer, but with Beckett being my more monkey-like and fearless one, he had to get it out of the way early.

We had some friends over for dinner last night, and while the lasagna was in the oven we went outside so my friend could take some family pictures of us. The boys looked adorable in their Easter outfits and the shoot went pretty well, considering we have two children who like to run in opposite directions like repelling magnets.

After the pictures, we came back to the house and were headed inside to have dinner. Sawyer and Beckett were, of course, running to see who could get through the front door first. Beckett's pants were a little big and his shoes a little too clunky I guess, because he tripped on the front step and dove head-first into the edge of the bricks by the front door.

I was too far back to see the point of impact and thought he had just hit the front door or not hit anything. Was expecting a couple tears and then another mad dash into the house. But the look on DH's face said otherwise and when he grabbed him up and spun around, I saw the blood a-gushing. Yep, onto his Easter outfit that he'd had on for all of 30 minutes (luckily Daddy actually accumulated most of the blood so I think I may be able to save the outfit).

I instantly flipped into Mommy Mode and ran into the house to grab a rag. Sat him up on the counter to survey the damage and instantly said, "Yep, that'll need stitches." I was so thankful that our friends were there, because we were able to leave Sawyer with them and take their van so that DH could ride beside Beckett and hold the rag on his head. He was such a doll baby and had stopped crying before we ever made it off our street, because I told him we were going to see a doctor to make it better.

We got to the ER and saw a triage nurse, and were thankfully able to get the bleeding stopped and a band-aid applied for the wait in the waiting room. I am knocking on all the wood available and hoping we don't catch the stomach bug from the little girl who was puking next to us. *shudder*

Once we got back into the room to see the doctor, a nurse came in to check out the damage and apply some numbing medicine. Beckett was so sweet and sat still for everything. He even did fabulously through his tetanus shot, which we unfortunately had to get sooner than I was hoping (since we delay vaccinations, he hadn't had it yet). He would wave to the nurse and say thanks every time she left the room. Total heartbreaker.

And a side note, I was amused by but did not appreciate the doctor who felt the need to come in and tell us that "tetanus is something you die from" and then leaving. Thank you, all-knowing ER doctor with stellar bedside manner. /sarcasm

Anyway. The nurse came back in then and applied some numbing medicine, which was really fabulous because it prevented him from having to get ANY shots of local anesthetic. I was so thankful for that. He had me cracking up because as soon as she applied it, he said "Ice cream!" because it felt cold.

We left that on for about half an hour and then the doctor came in to stitch him up. This was by far the worst part and I was loving her for being so quick about it. We had to wrap him up in a sheet like a burrito so he couldn't thrash, and just being held down like that really terrified him. He cried for me the whole time and it broke my heart into a million pieces. BUT, he didn't feel a single stitch go in, and that made it so much easier for me since I knew he was only crying because he didn't want to be held down. It only took about five minutes and she had three stitches applied and we were done.

He is, of course, back to his ever rambunctious self this morning, giving me mini heart attacks every time he dives onto the couch head first. Kids and being resilient and all that - it really is true.

I'm not one to miss documenting this type of event, so I of course have pictures. Look away now if a few drops of blood and some stitches gross you out! I wasn't TOO terrible of a mom because I at least waited until the major drama and gushing blood was over before busting out the camera.

Daddy and Beckett waiting at the ER. This was after we saw the triage nurse and we had gotten the bleeding stopped by then. We had to drive to the hospital with a rag pressed on his head.


Waiting for the nurse to come in and apply the numbing medicine.


Numbing medicine in place, kicking back and eating a Pop Tart.


All stitched up, bandaged, and waiting for our discharge papers.


Changing band-aids when we got home - as you can see he was happy as ever, hardly phased.


And the stitches this morning.

Or so my 2-year-old would have you believe.

Today, Beckett got a haircut. And I think we succeeded in annoying the piss out of every patron and stylist in the salon as he wailed and squawked like he was on fire. I know what you're thinking: where are the pictures of this so-called torture? I don't have any, because I was busy pinning his arms down and hugging him to my chest while the stylist tried not to slice an ear off amidst his thrashing.

He didn't want a Tootsie Roll Pop, he didn't want to wear the cool lime green cape with cars on it, and he certainly didn't want the Clippers of Doom anywhere near his head. Thankfully for my sanity (and much to the enjoyment of everyone's ears) he calmed down towards the end. One hair-covered red sucker, two sticky hands, a snotty nose and some cleavage full of hair shavings later, this little man emerged:



So in my opinion, the torture was worth it because he looks damn adorable. But rest assured I had her take quite a bit extra off the top. No plans to repeat this again any time soon.

We took the boys to the zoo this morning with some friends and their two boys. They all were surprisingly well-behaved, no injuries occurred and no children were misplaced. I call that a successful outing.

Shark touch tank:




Checking out the meerkats:




Hitchin' a ride:


S and B with my friend's little boy Lucas:


And her other little boy Logan:

Dear Beckett,

At exactly this time two years ago, you came swimming into the world in a pool in our bedroom. 8 pounds and 13 ounces of squishy cuteness, who would grow to be a high needs infant the complete opposite of your brother. We weren't prepared for the challenges we would face with a baby who never slept and was rarely content. But we managed, and all those sleepless night were well worth it.



At age two, you are such an absolute joy to be around. One of the happiest toddlers I know and still a total mama's boy, much to my enjoyment. Nothing makes my day better like a cuddle from my chunky monkey, and there is no shortage of Beckett cuddles in this house.

You idolize your big brother and the contentment and pride I feel watching you mimic his every move is indescribable. You are best friends more often than not, and I am thankful a hundred times over every day that I was blessed with two boys so close in age. The only thing that will match that is seeing your baby sister look up to you the same way. You are going to be such a fabulous big brother. You did have a pretty good teacher, after all.



I can't believe it has been two years, baby boy. I still get choked up thinking back to the day you were born, and I will have just as many happy tears tonight when I watch you blow out your two candles. Thank you for giving me so many reasons to smile every day.

All the love my heart can manage,
Mama.

Welcome to Not Me! Monday! This blog carnival was created by MckMama. You can head over to her blog to read what she and everyone else have not been doing this week.

This will be a short list of confessions this week, because I have lots of work to do still tonight for Beckett's birthday tomorrow. I mean, I don't. ;)

Upon getting home from work today, my husband did not immediately need a beer because Sawyer did not put on my bra, declare that he was a girl, and no longer had a penis. I also did not laugh hysterically as this unfolded while at the same time saying, "I'm so sorry, dear!"

Tomorrow is not Beckett's birthday and I do not still need to sew his superhero cape that will be his present. I will not be up late tonight finishing it! I also do not still need to go to the store for supplies for his cupcakes.

And again, Beckett is not turning two years old tomorrow. He was just born and is still my tiny little squishy. *sniff*

Time for Not Me! Monday! Head over to MckMama's blog to read what she and everyone else have not been doing this week.

This week, I did not giggle uncontrollably like a 14-year-old when I got "flatio" as my word verification on someone's blog. I also did not deem it worthy of a screen capture so I could share it with you all.



When giving Sawyer a haircut, I did not use the wrong guard on the clippers (again) and leave the poor boy looking like a chemo patient. Again.



I also don't force my oldest son to go around with a buzz cut while his little brother gets to sport long lovely locks. It's not because Sawyer's hair is awful and coarse and looks bad long, while Beckett's is soft and fine and straight as a pin. It's even cute after getting soaked in the rain.



My children always pose like angels for photo ops. They never ignore me, try to run away, or have to be held upside down by Daddy while I snap away madly.



I didn't cringe as my two tornadoes whizzed around the seemingly delicate Lego sculptures at the Children's Museum. My kid would never be the one to grab hold of the dragon's lower jaw and cause the whole thing to come crashing down.



I do not have only nine bags left out of the 36-bag case of Wild Berry Skittles that DH got me for Valentine's Day. And it definitely wasn't me who ate them all. Definitely the boys. And the cats. But not me.



And in that same vein, I would never stop at Dunkin' Donuts for a late night snack after a filling dinner at Weber Grill. Because my pregnancy diet is the perfect balance of the five food groups, with absolutely nothing unhealthy ever. Mmmmhmm.

I do not let my child eat crayons. That would just be gross. I also did not grab my camera and snap a picture of his purple crayon face instead of immediately scrubbing it with a wash cloth.



Above mentioned child does not still wake multiple times a night at almost two years old. And we definitely do not give in to whatever demands he has at the time, whether it be drinks, more blankets or an episode of Max and Ruby. We would never be too exhausted to worry about the bad habits we are creating and just want him to go back to sleep without screaming.

And if the above statement were true, I would never be so lazy as to have just now, today, gotten around to ridding his crib of the mountain of blankets he has horded in an effort to eliminate that portion of the problem.

No, I did not just admit that my two-year-old is still in a crib.

I do not have about ten loads of laundry piled on my couch waiting to be folded. That would be such an eyesore. And I would never dress the children from that pile, thus forcing them to wear wrinkly clothes. My children are always perfectly groomed and dressed to the nines.

I did not learn a couple weeks ago that I am going to become an aunt for the first time. My baby brother is definitely still a baby and has no interest in girls. And despite the less than perfect situation he is currently in, I am not the least bit excited about my impeding niece or nephew. Nope, not at all. Which means I definitely did not announce it all over Twitter.

I am not contemplating Arby's for dinner tonight just because I have a coupon for a free Roast Burger. That would be unhealthy! And I bet I did not just tempt all of you to do the exact same thing.

What all have you not done this week?

This blog carnival was created by MckMama. You can head over to her blog to read what she and everyone else have not been doing this week.

"MOUSE! MOUUUUUSE!"

"Mickey Mouse?"

"Nooooo! Mouse!"

"Cheerios?"

"Nooooo!"

"Mail?"

"Nooooooooooo"

Then he bangs on the pantry door and as soon as I let him in, what does he make a beeline for? MARSHMALLOWS. Duh, Mom.

My children both have a profound love for crayons. For Beckett, it's tasting them. He just can't resist the rainbow of wax and it's not uncommon for me to open a diaper and find hot pink nuggets staring back at me. It's become a game for him now, and he gnaws on them just to get a rise out of me. He'll sneak one from Sawyer's stash and wait until I notice him inching it towards his mouth, and then dart off behind the recliner giggling his head off. He's apparently shared this hobby with the cats too, because a couple weeks ago I witnessed Zachary pooping a yellow crayon turd into the little box. Lovely, right?

Sawyer, on the other hand does not eat them, thankfully. He draws. All. Day. Long. Every page of every coloring book he owns is covered in a prism of colors, and he's even confiscated several of DH's notepads for use as his own personal sketch books. I'm also happy to say that he's inherited my artistic talent as opposed to his father's, which is a very fortunate thing. I think at this point the kid would win hands down in a draw-off with Daddy.

For some reason, lately he has started *ahem* "decorating" my furniture with his drawings. I don't know why, because he KNOWS he's not supposed to. But nonetheless, my kitchen table is now adorned with two smiling stick figures standing on some tall grass under a very bright sun.

And on Tuesday, what I thought was an innocent gazing out the living room window was actually him depicting an entire scene along the whole length of the window sills. It's wasn't until I heard him announce, "Mommy, I'm drawing your shirt!" that I found the artwork that he was oh-so-proud of. And really, how can you be mad about this? It's better than the boring white, yes?



From left to right we have some balloons, a dinosaur, a smiling sun and Sawyer and Mommy dancing around. Down at the other side were more suns, people, and random letters.



I tried to get him to pose with his masterpiece, but only Beckett was willing to get in the shot.

Beckett got his first haircut today! He was NOT excited about it. At all. The entire process looked like this:




But he looks so cute and grown up. He went from this:



To this:

We had "Breakfast with Santa" today, complete with pancakes and sausage. I had hopes of getting at least one picture with both boys in it, but as expected, Sawyer was in full-on "I'll cover my face and pretend no one can see me" mode and completely refused to sit anywhere near Santa. Beckett surprised me and didn't want to leave Santa's side.

(crappy quality, scanned)


This is as close as Sawyer got.

Is this not the cutest thing you have ever seen?? They do it all the time. <3





They crack me up.

Wow. It's been over a year since I cracked open the virtual pages of this thing. I just spent awhile reading over my tirades as a new mom of two and had a good chuckle. And then became terrified when I realized I'm doing that all over again, this time with three. Here's to hoping that the little bebe I'm cooking this time decides to take after her oldest brother and be the most mellow kid on the planet. Yes, that would be nice.

Last night, I was looking at pictures of our kittens from when we first got them, and said aloud to DH, "I don't remember them being that small!" That, of course, led me to pictures of the boys in their infancy and those days are all but a distant memory. Sawyer is now a very articulate and sensitive 3-and-a-half-year-old, and not nearly the terror he was at age two. Beckett will turn two soon, yet is still very much my little baby. Luckily, he's past the constant night-waking and crying all day, THANK YOU GODS. How is it that I can barely remember what it was like back then?

I decided today that I would start writing here again, because I NEED to be able to remember these times. I don't want to be looking at pictures a year from now and not know what my kids were like in them, how their laughs sounded, what antics they devised to drive me crazy yet make me giggle hysterically.

I need to remember what it was like to show Sawyer the first ultrasound picture of his new sibling at nine weeks gestation, and see his eyes light up with wonder when I told him it was a baby. "Oh, that is SO cool, Mommy!" Seriously priceless. He then declared to his father and me, "Mommy, you are having a girl baby. Daddy, you are having a Spiderman baby. And I want a boy baby." I definitely cannot allow myself to forget moments like that.

I need to be able to envision in my mind how warm and wonderful it feels when Beckett crawls onto the couch with me and snuggles up right against my face to look in my eyes. He doesn't say anything, just grins and giggles and plays with my hair. Such a mama's boy he is, and I love it.

Sawyer is becoming more loving and affectionate as well, constantly asking, "Mommy, do you love me?" and demanding hugs and kisses throughout the day. I am so lucky to have these moments with my children and it would really be a shame to just let them slip away into the past, unrecorded.

I am one of those slacker moms who is the victim of the digital age, with very VERY few printed pictures of my children. The ones hanging on the walls are all I have. I take so many and am so far behind now that it would take hours upon hours and cost a fortune to have them all printed. I haven't made tangible baby books either, which I feel awful about. It goes hand in hand with not writing hand-written letters to relatives or compiling photo albums of our family for my children.

I have to start somewhere, so getting our day to day life down in virtual format is as good a place as any. Some day I WILL have the time and money to get those pictures printed, and my kids will have books full of memories to look back upon. But for now, I'm happy just writing about our adventures here for safe keeping.

So, hello again!

It's the middle of November and is finally starting to look and feel like Fall around here. The grass is still green, but is littered with leaves that Beckett loves to munch. And it's brisk enough for a soft, cushy liner in the BabyHawk!

As much as I talk about Beckett NOT wanting to sleep, it wouldn't be fair not to mention how much Sawyer flat out adores it. Seriously. This is a kid who has been sleeping 12 hours straight through the night since he was about two months old, and who we have never had a problem with getting him to go to sleep. He loves his bed and when he was 18 months old or so, he would actually ask to take naps. He'd find his blanket (which he calls his 'mimi') and truck upstairs, then go right to sleep without a peep.

He has since dropped his nap most days unless I force him by turning his bed to the wall (it's a crib turned toddler bed so there are still rails on three sides). But at night we never have a problem. DH usually does the bedtime honors and Sawyer is now old enough that he'll tell me he loves me and give me kisses. It's so fabulous.

Last night, he was being a pistol and throwing fits at the drop of a hat, about sending me off the deep end since Beckett was also being a beast by screeching and clawing and attempting to bite me. He refused all our suggestions for dinner and instead threw himself into a flailing heap of limbs on the floor, so DH took him up to his room to chill out. Ten minutes later, he was asleep at 6:30pm. Without dinner and his regular bedtime still an hour and a half away.

Now, once he's asleep, you can not wake him, lest you'd like to take on the beast on a whole new level. He is not a happy kid when his sleep is interrupted. But I felt insanely guilty for putting him to bed without dinner, so DH and I devised a plan to bring him a meal in his room no matter what time he woke up. Quesadillas and pears, even if it was 4am.

We went to bed around midnight and he was still sleeping. It had gotten cold in the house, so I pulled a quilt from the closet and took it in to bundle him up. He sat up when he saw me, grinning from ear to ear. I covered him up with the quilt and asked him if he was going back to sleep.

"Yes, I go night night!"

"Okay, baby, I love you, night night."

"I love you, Mommy."

And when I was halfway to the door, I heard him mumble, "Thanks!"

Seriously, how can you not completely melt after something like that? You can't not.

He also can eat yogurt with a spoon now, which he probably could have done a long time ago if I hadn't been too scared of the mess to let him. He's becoming very particular about which chair he sits in to eat (it must be the Big Boy Chair) as well as what he eats. He used to be a garbage disposal and would eat anything we put in front of him, which made it really easy to feed him a good diet full of fruit, veggies and protein. Lately, however, he turns his nose up at anything that isn't pizza, PB&J, or smothered in cheese. Typical kid, I guess. Although he does still love most any fruit, so I'm thankful for that at least.

And Beckett. What can I say about him. He's growing up faster than I remember it happening with Sawyer, yet it still seems to drag by, if that makes any sense. The sleep deprivation has me worn pretty thin, but I've given up on lamenting over it and have just decided to accept whatever sleep pattern he chooses. I don't feel like there's much I can do to change it until he weans anyway, so it's pointless to get worked up over it. As I type I can hear him waking up for the third time since we put him down two hours ago. Le sigh.

He seems so much older to me than a week shy of eight months, what with almost eight teeth lighting up his once gummy smile and being fully mobile. He can crawl clear across the house in less than ten seconds and will pull up on anything of height. Cruising is just around the corner and I have a feeling he will walk before Sawyer did.

He still doesn't care much for solids. Some days he'll gobble it up at every meal but most days he refuses it (quite loudly) unless it's super sweet fruit. He wants nothing to do with most veggies other than sweet potatoes and isn't crazy about meat either. He's great at self-feeding though so we may just jump right in to table food soon. Even on his good days with solids though, it still makes no difference on his sleep so I'm not in much of a hurry.

Most pictures I get of both of them these days are either of a backside or a chubby blonde blur. I couldn't believe I actually caught all four of them looking at the camera in the above picture. Don't be fooled, as that moment will likely never be captured on camera again. The other two are my friend's boys that I was watching for her that day. They are ages four and two. And yes, my 2-year-old and 8-month-old are the same size as them, respectively. I grow giants.

These are more typical of my usual captures. I generally have to take 60 or so in order to get a couple good face shots, and on the day I took these, I didn't get any. Hey, at least he has a cute butt.