I am 133.8 pounds. That's only 3.8 pounds more than my pre-pregnancy weight. Yay, me! Butt, (yes, I meant to spell it that way), I took a good look at my ass profile yesterday and was not pleased. My butt used to be perky. It used to be round. It was pretty darn cute. Now it's flat and sad and pathetic. So, although my weight is worthy of celebration, my ass is in desperate need of some lunges and squats. And my stomach is in dire need of crunches. There you have it. I'll keep you abreast of my physique's progress. Speaking of breasts... They're the only thing looking really good and that's just because they're filled with milk! Yes, I'll be breast feeding until Garrett is 20.
So, my sister-in-law gave me a book by Anne Lamott
called "Operating Instructions: A Journal of my Son's First Year"
. I've been reading it for a few days and it is INSANELY similar to my blog. Since it was written in 1989, I now feel like a cheap imitation. Miss Lamott is a wonderful writer and I've already cried several times because of her lovely way of describing things. She and I are very similar. At the time she wrote the book, she was 35 years old with a newborn. She's a single mom, a recovering addict, very religious with a deep love for Christ, and she lives in a tiny apartment in Northern California. Fine. So the only things we have in common are age and motherhood. But, that's enough. The way she describes the love and awe she has for her son makes me feel like we are the same.
I know how stupid this is going to sound, but it makes perfect sense in my head. There is something very reassuring about this book. She describes several things about her son Sam that are exactly what Garrett does. Yesterday she was talking about this cough he has that she calls his "fake cough". Whenever Garrett coughs I say, "You're faking!", because it seriously sounds like he's putting it on for attention. She describes things he does while breast feeding that are exactly the same. What I'm getting at is this, and please bear with me. It's comforting to think that with all the changes in the world, with all the craziness and technology, with all the anger and terrorism, with all the sickness and sadness... It's comforting to know that kids were the same in 1989 as they are in 2007. The template hasn't changed. That makes me feel good for some reason.
She also describes all of her fears and thoughts in such a way that makes me glad to know that my fears and trepidations are probably felt by mothers everywhere, and always have been.
Garrett is three months old today and he is truly magnificent. He smiles so much and each time I feel like he hands me a treasure chest filled with diamonds. I still stare at him in complete amazement, unable to figure out how he got here. Russ and I both feel so lucky to have him as a son.
He's big. Bigger than 90% of kids his age. That makes sense considering Russ is incredibly tall, and so are all the men in my family. His little hands look like they're going to be giant, as do the rest of his appendages. Every time we bathe him he acts like he's getting a spa treatment. When we change his diaper he looks at us with an incredibly amused expression, like he's in on a joke that he won't tell us. And he talks a lot! Seriously! He's constantly cooing and saying things like, "Ah Goo!" We have entire conversations and they're fascinating.. To us. I know he's going to be sitting up soon, and then crawling and moving too fast for me to catch up with. That's why I'm trying to live inside of every moment with him. And every moment, no matter what is happening, good or bad, is perfect.
It's also my mom's 67th birthday today. She and my dad are living in a condo at the hospital where my father had his treatment. That way he can be close to the doctors he needs to see several times a week. She's working hard to take care of him, and I hope she's enjoying her birthday.