The Red Rasta is three months old today. He has doubled his birth weight. His cuteness quotient has increased exponentially and he has been sleeping through the night in his own room(not in his crib yet but we are working on it).
He’s clearly a superior baby even if he is almost entirely formula fed. I’m weaning myself off the pump and I can’t tell you how sad it makes me. I feel like it’s something I’m not doing for him, that I’m a failure, but the therapist sees it as more of a loss for me.
I didn’t get to have that ideal breastfeeding experience. I’m not some earth mother -baby wearing- blissful mama. I’m not comfortable with our decision for me to stay home the first year. I find caring for an infant a struggle with no end in sight. I GAINED weight after he was born. Nothing is going how I thought it would. Wahhh wahhh wahhh I know, someone fetch me some fries to go with my wahhburger. Not that I should be eating fries big as I am but I’m starting to feel marginally better. Coming out of the hole if you will. Knowing he’s growing and gaining weight and doing developmentally normal things like cooing and giggling and putting weight on his legs is helpful.
I plan on taking a few shifts at the library next month and I joined the gym again. I even went there on Sunday and managed 45 minutes on the elliptical while watching Netflix’s Longmire on my phone. Oh my god, I must digress. It’s no Strange Empire but it’s a delightful western crime show set in present day Wyoming and they keep talking about something terrible that happened in Denver. It makes me want to bust out my cowgirl boots and hat and like, suck on piece of hay while I solve crimes. Check it out. Anyway back to my mental health.I’ve been cooking our meals again. I made my friend that sews make costumes for Red Rasta and The Slayer. I ordered Halloween costumes for Husband and myself(I like to make my own usually but ain’t nobody got time for that) and I’m planning our first Halloween party in our new house.
It’s fall bitches and while everything around us is going to sleep or dying(good riddance grasshoppers, you so nasty) I’m starting to wake up and maybe, just maybe- bloom (puke).