I like to joke about how I run my life by a principle of "organized chaos." And it's true, and it usually works for me. But right now, I think "tornado of haphazard destruction" is a more fitting description for the state of our current affairs.
I have about thirty blog posts I tinker with and never publish, because things keep changing and I don't have any good pictures and nothing ever reads just right. But hell with it, I'm publishing this and maybe revisiting the other posts about sleep and staying home and religion and politics and all that other stuff... later.
We have sort of successfully sleep trained. As in, I usually lay him down awake, and he usually fusses himself to sleep. Except at night. It would seem that I gave in a few too many times on soothing him to nighttime slumber, and now it's a battle of wills when I lay him down into the crib after dark.
And just when I decided tonight that we were going to move on to full-blown cry it out tactics, because by God this boy is exhausted, he cried for an hour. And I went in after twenty minutes, soothed, went in twenty minutes later, soothed, then sent Kyle in at the 60 minute mark... and the wee man had a massive poopy diaper. That I somehow didn't smell? Slather that guilt on thick tonight (much like the diaper... ew, okay, that crossed a line).
It's okay, I deserve it.
The first two bottom toothies have arrived, except one seems to have gotten caught along the way, and it's driving Jack (and me) bonkers.
Did you know babies his age (seven months today) should be taking four bottles per day? Do you know how many bottles we went through today? SEVEN.
Speaking of those bottles... his elemental formula costs about $30 per can. And we go through about 3.5 cans per week. Which means we spend about $400 per month on formula. I hear a sad trombone playing somewhere in the distance. (One thing I was SO SURE about while pregnant was breastfeeding. I was going to do it, and it was going to work, and it was going to be nutritious and free and easy. And it was all of those things except nutritious for my little lactose-intolerant friend. Damnit.)
Really, things are quite lovely right now.
We're getting fall family photos taken this weekend.
We're also leaving on a jet plane for a trip to Florida (sweet baby Jesus, guide and protect us through air travel with an infant).
Jack is sitting up like a champ now and eating lots of different foods (but apparently not enough to curb his insatiable appetite for the Dom Perignon of formulas).
He's also a charming delight most of the time.
Life is good. Crazy and expensive and sometimes exhausting... but really really good.
And now for the six month stats that I promised several weeks ago... Jack is 21 pounds heavy and 28 inches long. Also known as, he is 12 month clothes now, and then are... ahem... not roomy. Also known as, my neck still hurts. And my back. My knees crack like I'm 90 years old when I try to sneak into his nursery at night. Motherhood is no joke. I gave birth to Hoss Cartwright.
(Hilariously, he does sort of look like a grown up version of Jack)
I'll be 26 on Sunday, which is part of the reason we're venturing to the Sunshine State. Another part is to visit my parents. With any luck, they will be so Jack-deprived that they'll want to, I don't know, make all his bottles and change all his diapers and do battle over his sleep while I soak up some sun and play with him when he's happy.
(That actually sounds like what grandparents are supposed to do, but a mama can dream... just for one day... right?)
Happy almost Friday, friends.