Sam spent the afternoon in the back of my mother's car, eating mocha chip ice cream, and then went outside to play shoot guns with his buddy Brian (the older boy - he's Jessie's age - who lives next door). He came inside covered in sweat and grime and we mutually decided that a bath was in order. I put him in the tub with a huge assortment of superhero guys and he was in there playing. I was sitting in the living room, nursing Julie, when suddenly, screams erupt. Since that's never what you want when your three year old is in the tub, I put down the baby and run for the bathroom. Midway there, I yell "Sammy - did you try to wash your eye again?" and I hear this sad little voice say softly and miserably "Yeah." He literally attempts to wash his eye. He was trying to wash his face and got a little carried away, I guess. He's done it before, and he's the only kid (and I've bathed a LOT over the years) who's ever taken the soap, applied to his eye and rubbed it around there.
Jess is on the phone with her friend. She's in her room with the door shut, she's been chatting away for the past twenty minutes, and I'm thinking this is the first time in a very long line of times when she'll answer the phone and disappear behind closed doors... She's so very serious about it and so funny. I had put this foam thing on her door to prevent her from slamming it (she loves to slam it when she's having a temper tantrum) and she came out all perturbed because she needed her privacy for the conversation. The best part was that at one point, Julie started to cry and Jessie tucked the phone under her ear and tried to pick her sister up to calm her down. Multi-tasking at seven... I came in and told her that I'd handle the baby, go ahead and talk :-). She thinks nothing of assuming total control of Julie, and if I don't jump immediately when the baby fusses (and really, it's not like I ever let the child cry for any length of time), she'll get her first.
Julie's appt was today - her one month check up (don't think it's a good sign that at five weeks, I'm already off the schedule, but it's really part of a trend, I scheduled Sam's four year physical (his birthday is in early July) for late in September because I'm just constantly behind where I should be with those). She's a paragon of health, she weighs ten pounds, two ounces, and is twenty two inches long. She's gained a LOT and the doctor told me not to be at all concerned that she hasn't pooped since Monday. She's apparently just using everything from the breastmilk, because her stomach was soft and it wasn't like she was constipated - she just doesn't have anything left over to poop. Which makes me feel smug - and grateful that she's nursing so well. Because there's something awesome about looking at your baby and knowing that you, and only you, are totally responsible for the growth. Not only did you grow this child inside you, but then you are able to magically produce enough milk to make the baby thrive and grow.
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