Where is that dang pause button.

This is James at 1 week and 2 months, respectively, and I'm trying to wrap my mind around it. Oh how I love these chubby little cheeks, but oh how I miss that tiny little newborn.  I miss his unfocused eyes and his misshapen head (well, more misshapen), and I miss how his left hand would always be turned palm-out, and darn it all if I don't miss the frail, oh-gosh-I-hope-I-don't-break-him part of the newborn stage.  I never thought I'd say this, but I could be the mother of newborns forever.  I could wake up 3 times every night and soldier through every scream-filled diaper change if I could just snuggle that teensy baby body forever.

I knew from the moment he was born that life would move too fast.  It seems so unfair; I spent my first year as a nanny of a newborn thinking that each month, each milestone couldn't come fast enough.  I couldn't wait for Missy Moo to be bigger, stronger, more independent.  But with James it's seemed that since they first laid him on my belly, all red and complaining, that time has moved with frightening speed.

This post by Nat the Fat Rat just about sums it up.

I know I should probably be trying to write more at this time in life, to record all the things I don't want to forget.  I'll try, but it's hard to pull myself away from experiencing James firsthand.  I only get to smell and kiss and cuddle him as a baby for a limited time.  (We have family in town this weekend and it's been difficult to share.)

But I will try to keep y'all updated adequately.  Like how the new thing is crying when he gets laid down because he doesn't want to be alone, and even more exciting: toy-batting!   Stay tuned.

Clearing off the phone, pt. 1

I do believe I've exceeded the legal limit of bad, blurry phone pictures of this baby's face and other things I decide to photograph.  So surely the proper punishment is to unload them in a single blog post.  I mean, how else am I going to continue to have the phone memory to keep taking them? 

I don't have a fancy iphone like the rest of ya's, nor do I have Instagram so you're just going to have to deal with sub-par picture quality.

 (We dress to match sometimes.  Practicing for Motherboy 2012 maybe?)

 I call this the Conan O'Brien.

As you can see, he sleeps a lot.  I'll try to be more selective of the pictures I barrage you with in the future.

Currently James Wade is trying to fall asleep in my arms and is having the darnedest time trying to instruct me in how I am to help with this endeavor.  See, I know he wants the binky because I am the mom and the mom knows these things.  But James Wade is certain he does not want the binky and makes a point of letting me know how offended he is every time said binky is shoved into his mouth.  Lots of scrunched faces and thrusting tongues with some half-hearted gag noises thrown in for good measure.  I mean, mom, how can I BE any more clear about how much I do not want this binky?  But moms know (I know because I am one, obviously) and lo and behold once the indignant squeaks and angry outbursts have tired him sufficiently, when binky is reinserted once again it's accepted as though duh mom, this is what I wanted this whole time.

And I said, I know son, I'm the mom. 

(To which he replied by tiredly scrunching one eyebrow up and the other down as if to say Whatever, please have some milk ready for me in an hour-ish, kay?  And then drifted off to contended binky-sucking sleep.)

Babies, man.