I’ll probably stop these posts at some point. We can’t spend the next 18 years commemorating every month of this kid’s life. I get that. Feel free to skip this one. I have some more meatier material growing in my brain for next time.
In the last three months, my life has imploded. My apartment is always messy. I rarely eat a meal in one sitting. I haven’t slept for more than 7 hours straight (and that only happened once). I barely remember how to put on make-up. BB and I haven’t had a conversation that wasn’t primarily about poop color.
And yet, my sweet little boy is such a delight. He’s starting to learn how to grab things. He can laugh now. He sees images in the mirror. He is babbling more and more. And he has fat legs. I always wanted a baby with fat legs.
He has a delightful personality. Even when he’s crying, it doesn’t take long for him to smile. And he doesn’t mind when Lucy licks his face.
How are the parents doing? Surviving. Not sure we are thriving. We haven’t gotten a routine down yet. I want him to work less. He probably wants me to stop complaining so much. I am desperate for spring to come to Chicago. We are getting glimpses, but then it drops back down to 35 degrees. I want to fit in my pants and still eat cookies. I want to have time to read a book without cardboard pages and to spend time in the Word.
It’s so frustrating that we can never have it all at once. We want sleep when our babies are young, and we can’t sleep when they are old. We want money when we are in college, and when we get it, we don’t have time to spend it. We want time to travel the world when we are young, and when we have the time, we are too tied down.
Isn’t that just the way it is with God? This world is not our home. We will never be fully content here on earth, and that’s the plan. I need to stop fighting it and embrace it for what it is. Looking forward to the true paradise on the other side.