Sullivan & I
It's that time already. My lil' Sully Jo is 6 weeks old....meaning it's time for me to go back to work. Not that being home hasn't been plenty of work. It most certainly has! I miss my nights of uninterrupted sleep so, so badly. And I wish breastfeeding had gone better for me, because honestly, I'm tired of hand washing bottles right now. Six weeks. I knew it would fly by and that seems to even be an understatement. Three kiddos are work. Lots of it. Exhausting. And worth every ache my body endures.
A year ago, if you would've asked me if Greg and I were going to have any more babies, my answer would've been, "No way Jose!" But after lots of thinking and praying, I gave in to my baby loving hubby, and we decided we'd try for a third, Lord willing. And now I have a son. I still can't get used to saying that. I soooo love it too. *Giddy* He is the perfect conclusion to our family. Our 5 pack.....the reason I now drive a mini-van. By the way, it's so practical that I, the mom who swore she'd never be caught dead driving one, suddenly wonders why we didn't have one sooner! It offers so much and is more than handy. What other family car has doors that open/close at the push of a button?! The girls think it is just the coolest. Aubi sometimes calls it the mini-van, but mostly she calls it our mini-car. Why do they have to have such a sour name like mini-van...why can't they call them something like the handy-car instead? Yes- the "momvan" is great.
Back to Sullivan, his sisters are so good to him. He is spoiled by us all. My time at home has been a little trying but mostly amazing. I am thankful for it. Everything about this lil' guy right now just melts me. The way he smells. When he's having a bottle and he just can't seem to finish it fast enough and the noises he makes because of it. The moans and groans. The faces he makes while I hold him in my arms and watch him sleep, pouty lips, then giggles, then grins, then sad little cries that last a second but still break my heart. His crazy hair. His lips smacking. In the middle of the night, when all is quiet in the house and the only light is the soft glow from his neon blue clock, toward the end of the bottle he appears to be "milk drunk" as my sister calls it...and as I rock him I'll put him on my shoulder for one last burp before I lay him back down but he's already dozed off and all the weight in his head and neck seems to only be in his sweet suddenly chubby cheeks as they lay pressed against my shoulder...priceless! So grateful for these many joys.
He is starting to recognize me. He occasionally smiles at me when I coo back at him. The first time he smiled and cooed at me I had tears running down my face. Already communicating. Trying to cherish all these things and finding myself constantly pausing for mental pictures to store in my head.
Not really worried about my first day tomorrow...other than waking up on time. Back to work and going to make the most of it.
