Average size.

So the measurements are in from Carter's 4 month check up and he's perfectly average size. FOR AN 8 MONTH OLD.

Seeing as he is in fact half that age, he's quite large. Here's the breakdown:

Height: 27.5 inches; above the 97th percentile (meaning, that's as high as they go)

Weight: 17 pounds, 12 ounces (though he weighed over 18 when I brought him on the scale with me last week); around the 95th percentile

Weight for height: 10th-25th percentile, meaning he's proportional. Although, the rolls on that kid really make me wonder about that one.

Head: 44.5 centimeters, again above the 97th percentile.

The doctor called him "a big ol' moose." Seth is so proud.

The new anti-drug advertisement

Remember the egg in the frying pan from back in the day? I propose replacing that with Lady Gaga videos. Seriously, what is wrong with her?

Four months

Dear Carter,

4 months! We are loving this stage and enjoying you so much. Every day you’re a new kid, growing and developing so fast I wish I could bottle up the moments and savor them for much longer. You constantly crack us up with your silly noises, funny faces, and flailing limbs. You’re very particular about your audience, though, preferring to keep it to just your dad and I. Which I suppose is okay, I’m sure before long I’ll be asking you to use an inside voice as you shriek through the aisles of some store (let’s be realistic, it will be Target). Speaking of shrieking, you have got some lungs! Wow. You are my child after all, so you come by it honestly. I’ve actually had to cover my ears a few times. You are a megaphone of fantastic, beautiful squeals of joy.

You babble and laugh and giggle all the time, occasionally throwing in some whining or fussing but mostly just happy noises. I tend to believe you got all of your screaming and fussing out in the first two months of your life and now you’re making up for it by being angelic 95% of the time. You’re also making up for all of your not-sleeping. THANK GOODNESS. Your dad and I were just about to lose it (okay, we already had) when all of the sudden you started sleeping last month and you’ve been going strong ever since. I think your exuberance for life wears you out. You go to sleep at 7, wake up for a midnight snack, and sleep until 6 or so. Believe me, I know how lucky we are and we worked hard to get here. Sometimes I’d really like to keep you up and hang out but you are just ready sleep. Again, just like your mother. When you wake up you are always the happiest baby ever and I just love those moments. You are absolutely elated to see us and fling all your limbs in delight. Stella, however, usually gets a glare. In your defense, I might be a little less than thrilled if a giant beast came crashing though my room to wake me up. We’re going to have to work on your love for animals. You do like music though, and you always smile when I sing to you. Lately we’ve started family band nights, I sing and your dad plays guitar. We’re ready for you on drums when you can figure out how to hold some sticks. I sure hope you get your dad’s rhythm.

You’re a lot like your dad in a few distinct ways. Specifically, your height, weight, and head size. You’re off the charts. You’re outgrowing some of your 9 and 12 month clothes. We’ve got two full boxes of stuff you can’t fit into anymore, and some of them never even touched your skin. You’re longer than my torso, and you’ve doubled your birth weight already. And your feet! None of your socks fit anymore, so I went to buy more. I got the 6-18 month size thinking surely that would last a while. Maybe they’d be a little big, but you’d grown into them, right? Wrong. They were a little small. The tube engulfed your whole calf, but the foot part didn’t quite make it to your heel. I’ve got some massive knots in my neck and back from lugging you around for the past 4 months. By the time you can walk on your own I’ll be strong enough to compete in lumberjack contests.

You love looking at toys and love to eat them even more. You’re ready to grab one in each fist and run down the halls. I keep telling you to slow down, but you’re not interested. There are times when you finally wear yourself out and crash and sometimes when other people are around you’re too mesmerized by all the voices and faces to exert the same level of liveliness. The rest of the time you are rearing to go. I know I’m in for a whole lot of trouble and so, so much chasing. Even when you’re sleeping you don’t really settle down. The other day we found you turned 90 degrees and on the opposite side of your crib, toy flung to the other corner. You have this new trick of scratching the mattress. The first time we heard this odd noise coming across the monitor we really could not figure out what the heck you were doing. We wandered into your room, perplexed, and discovered you laying perfectly still except for your hands. A few nights ago you scratched the mattress for over an hour, from midnight to after 1am, mesmerized. So I call you Scratch Masta C.

When I’m not trying to corral you, I’m wiping off your chin, your hands, and whatever else you can get in your mouth. I’m pretty sure you’re teething, which accounts for almost all of your fussy times. I don’t blame you, it’s a pretty unpleasant process and I wish I could take away all your pain. Your latest nickname is “droolbucket,” for self explanatory reasons. And now that you’re blowing raspberries all the time, I feel like I’m watching Shamu from the splash zone.

We’ve entered the glorious season of fall and we’re spending a good amount of time hanging out at home, bundling up and lighting candles. It’s wonderful to come home and hang out with you. We spend as much time as we can snuggling and playing with you. It’s actually pretty funny, out of all the space in our house we usually end up in the same ten square feet of each other. Usually it’s on the living room floor. We’ll put you on your activity mat and both your dad and I lay down next to you and Stella is never far behind. This is a good life we’re living. There’s nowhere else I’d rather be, and nothing else I’d rather do. I’m just so blessed to wake up and be your mom every day.

Love,

Mama

what a difference a year makes

One year ago today I took a test (some would say the most advanced piece of technology I'll ever pee on) and the NOT never appears alongside the PREGNANT. I hated that NOT and I had more than my fair share of angry/bitter/irrationally upset moments resulting from negative pregnancy tests, and I know how blessed we are that we could have a child. For some reason, I didn’t think that was our month on that fateful October morning. I’d had previous months when I was absolutely convinced I was pregnant only to be devastated again. All those previous months I had these huge imaginative plans for the creative and special ways I would tell Seth and the magical moment it would be. That morning I just thought, eh, what the heck, might as well take the test. It was really too early to test anyway and I knew I probably wouldn’t get an accurate result even if I was pregnant, which I was certain I wasn’t.

Sure enough, I was.

And that’s where all my imaginative planning met its demise. As soon as the result showed up I did a true double take and almost died of shock. Instead of concocting some special moment, I went and woke up Seth immediately, despite the fact that it was 6am on a Saturday. Then I kept looking at the test, approximately 5,000 times before I really believed it. And right away I knew it was a boy.

36 weeks later, Carter James Jobin entered the world. People say pregnancy goes fast. For me, not so much. Not at all, actually. When I found out I was pregnant, I was only 3½ weeks along, leaving a heck of a lot of weeks to wonder and worry and be sick. Really, really sick. I wore sea bands for months. They didn’t really help me feel better, but when I didn’t wear them it was even worse. Some days I had to close my door and lay on my floor at work. I quickly learned the less populated bathrooms.

I don’t think I ever wanted something as much as I wanted a baby. God created me to be a mother. I remember being a very young child thinking about what I wanted to be when I grew up and I always knew my answer: I wanted to be a mom. The reality of my life now looks different than I imagined, but that doesn’t diminish the love I have for Carter or the fullness of my heart. There are things I’m good at, but this is most definitely my purpose. This is what I was created to do. I am so very thankful for all of the blessing the Lord has given us. Thankful for His strength pushing us on through many sleepless nights. Thankful for His guidance in our imperfect lives, walking us down the path of parenting. Thankful that He entrusted us to take care of Carter while he’s here on Earth.

I can’t imagine life any other way and I couldn’t love my little boy more.

But next time I’m pregnant, I’m telling Seth via fireworks and/or skywriting.

Props to all you working folk.

So it's been over a month since I went back to work and if there's one word to sum it all up, it is "EXHAUSTING." Like all things in life, it's an adjustment and we'll get used to it, but my gosh, I don't know how people with 5 kids, all of them at different schools and different schedules and mom's off to work (loaded down with 3 different bags, in my case) and dad's out the door (loaded down with diaper bag, baby, and work stuff) and much chaos abounds.

The glue keep all our stuff together is we have a pretty easy going baby and we're both giving everything we have to make this work.

Here's our day:
Our alarms start going off at 5:45. Half the time Carter is awake and babbling, sometimes more forcefully squawking.

By 6:00, Seth is in the shower and I get Carter up. Stella is thrilled to see Seth and I and follows me into the nursery, crashing forcibly into walls and smacking her tail into crib rails.

While Seth gets ready, I feed Carter. We switch around 6:30, hopefully Seth is ready by then. Then I get ready, pack my pump (this whole process is complicated by the fact that I'm still exclusively nursing), pack my laptop, and the rest of my stuff. Then I pack a cooler for Carter. I try to do everything else the night before. Seth gets Carter changed and dressed for the day, puts the dog out, and we try to be out the door by 7am. Seth drops Carter off, goes to work.

I'm usually home around 5 and Seth and Carter walk in around 5:30. I try to squeeze as much as humanly possible into those 30 minutes, even though I would really like to just collapse. I also try to give Stella some attention. Clean the pump, put away milk, start some laundry, vacuum the tile (between Stella and my post-baby hair loss... my vacuum and I spend a lot of time together).

We try to hang out from 5:30-6, maybe start dinner, play with Carter a little. Then I feed Carter at 6, followed by bath time, some cuddle time, a story or a song (mostly determined by who is putting Carter to bed). Carter's usually in bed around 7, at which point we make and eat dinner, clean for 15 minutes, and do some quiet time. I try to pack Carter's bag for the next day. I pump and go to bed around 9:30-10. Seth gives Carter a bottle at 10:30 and goes to bed and then we start it all over.

I've never loved the weekend so much.

Sweet pleasures of life.

Last night, I laid in bed listening to the baby monitor. I do this often, just listen to Carter babbling to himself. In case he hasn't told you, that kid has a LOT to talk about.

Last night was even sweeter because Seth was in there too and they were playing as Seth was putting Carter back down and they were laughing together. Which was so sweet, even at midnight or whatever time it was when we all should have been sleeping. I felt like a fortunate onlooker, listening to the soundtrack of my precious baby and his daddy. I reminded myself of the grinch when his heart grew three sizes that day.