As you all may know, my boy came home Thursday. My wonderful, wonderful, wonderful, wonderful mother stayed the weekend with me, helping me immeasurably. My stepdad came up and did some helping too, and then my little sister and brother came up just to see the boy on Sunday.
That means the boy was held for most of the weekend. How he got spoiled in that little time, I'll never know. For two months, he was only held for maybe 2 hours a day, 3 max. Comes home Thursday and has people cuddling him non-stop, and now he whines when he's in his swing or bed.
And what is this schedule of which you speak? He was on a very strict schedule in the NICU. He was fed and changed every 4 hours, no variations. I figured when he got home, I'd just feed him whenever he was hungry. He's completely bucked the schedule. He ate 2 and a half ounces at 6, a snack at 7, and I figured I'd stay up till he got hungry again. It's almost 11:30, and he's sleeping peacefully, farting in my arms. Good thing I've figured out a way to hold him and type.
He's just about the most adorable thing I've ever seen in my entire life. It's kinda funny, I spent 2 months praying for him to get bigger, get bigger, get bigger. Now I kinda want him to slow down. He's up to 6 pounds, 12 ounces, as of today. I love him right here. I remember when the simple act of holding him was too much stimulation for him to handle. I love this.
My birfday was Saturday, and it was awesome. Drew made chicken parmesan and my mommy baked me a cake. I'm 26 now. Late 20's. Perilously close to 30. Yegads.
1 week ago