Here we are, 14 weeks after Laurel’s birth and wow, do things look different on the other side of the 3-month mark.
Laurel is a healthy 15 pounds and change. She LOVES to eat, but only from the source. She will only take about 4 ounces of expressed milk over the course of about 8 hours at the sitter’s. Then in the evening and on the weekends, she’s rarely very far away from my boobs. I have quite a cache of milk stored in the freezer that I hope I don’t have to toss. The version of me that couldn’t keep up with Harrison’s appetite and had to supplement with formula fairly early on would howl in outrage at such an act.
Laurel’s quite the talker. She will just stare at you and grin and coo and squeal — it’s really adorable. I’m trying to ignore the fact that according to Babycenter, she’s supposed to be making P and B and M and D sounds. She’s not, so I’ve taken to chanting “puh puh puh puh, buh buh buh buh, muh muh muh muh, duh duh duh duh” at her several times a day. She’s going to grow up thinking her mother is a moron.
Meanwhile, Harry is really growing into a robust boy with HUGE hands and feet. I swear to god, he looks like a German shepherd puppy with those gigantic mitts! We had to buy him new ballet slippers over the weekend because his previous pair (which we bought back in June, no wonder they didn’t fit anymore) were just absolutely impossible to get on his feet anymore.
The other night, he crawled into our bed without my noticing. I was very confused and surprised and chuffed to wake up with him cuddled up in my arms. Additionally, he has cultivated some very sophisticated verbal and tantrum skills. I hear that’s par for the course for Three. Today I was having a “coo-versation” with Laurel while Harrison was acting like a turd in the background and a got a little pang thinking that my sweet little lady was one day (very soon) going to behave the same way. IMPOSSIBLE! Not my sweet pink little cupcake! (I’m fairly certain I thought the same of Harrison when he was 3 months old, too.)
On the other hand, I had a wonderful, warm, “am kickASS mother” moment this afternoon when H was melting down about wanting to eat cheese and crackers instead of a proper lunch. Finally, I said, “Harrison, you would really help me out by eating a peanut butter sandwich. Want to help me make it?” We took out the pb & j, and the tears dried up very quickly as he spread the pb very artfully over the bread and moved on to the jelly. Matt even gave me the thumbs-up and a mouthed “nice job” from the doorway! Awesome.
Meanwhile, school continues apace. It seems like I’ve got a good, bright, and talkative group of students this semester, and only teaching one section is a nice break. I have been working on the dissertation every weekday and I feel like I’m making progress, if only in my notes and not in actual written form.
I keep thinking that I want to write something about Slumdog Millionaire, but I don’t have the time to articulate it. I do think that it is a celluloid example of Appadurai‘s notion of “modernity at large” but that’s all I’ll say, apart from that I LOVED it and can’t get the soundtrack out of my head.
PBS is running a promo for a Masterpiece Theatre series, “The Tales of Charles Dickens.” The music they’re playing is Coldplay. Weird.
Finally, I found out on Friday that the alternative newsweekly I write for is phasing out the use of freelancers. That will take about $350 out of my monthly income. OUCH. I’m feeling kind of scared, but calmed by Matt’s exhortion that just like everyone else, we may have to tighten our belts a bit. And, in the grand scheme of our monthly household budget, $350 isn’t HUGE, but it might mean fewer trips to Costco and maybe more lunches brought from home. It’s not a house-losing drop in income.