Pumpkin Patch!

One sunny fall day, my boots and I went to the pumpkin patch.  We had tiny boots coming along, too!

Felix got galoshes and his little fat feet were almost big enough to keep them on!

Dad and his boy are ready to go!

Felix thought pumpkins were great fun. 

Even when his mom tossed him in a whole bin of them.

The belly came with us, too!

She's not trying to steal a pumpkin.  I promise.

We are so cute.  Felix couldn't care less.

Such an excellent fall day.  Fantastic friends, looking ridiculous trying to get the baby to smile, tromping through fields finding the perfect pumpkin, wearing our sweaters and scarves despite the warm day, football, hacking pumpkins in half, seeds, and sweet Roman's birthday party.  Excellent fall day.

Guns

I am so good at guns. 

I know those of you who know me are just reading this in terror seeing as I'm not allowed to even use my sling shot or kitchen shears without supervision. But a couple of months ago, my dad, brother, husband and I went to the middle of the woods and shot guns.  

It. Was. Fun.

Aside from the actual shooting which, I have to admit, was a hell of a lot more fun than I anticipated, the drive itself was awesome.  Dirt, barely-there roads with overgrown trees and shrubs battled for possession only to be bent back by two manly trucks.  That "almost lost" feeling I've grown to love coupled with the desire to see just how far into the mud pit we can actually get before we have to walk home started the day.  

The view when we finally arrived was worth the excursion alone.  We were high on a hillside and it was a clear day.  You could see for miles.  I didn't take any pictures, so sue me.  I was too excited about the bags of guns my brother pulled from the truck to be bothered with documentation.  But trust me, it was inspiring.

I liked the 30/30 rifle best.  I could hit targets 300 yards away.  I don't know what that means.  The boys just kept saying it.  So I'm taking it as an accomplishment.  It should probably be stated that the targets were stationary. I can't shoot the clay birds to save my life.  All my animals would have to stand really still.  Or be in a barrel.  If I had to hunt to live, I would starve.  Partly because of the lack of hitting moving targets but partly because I'd want the little Bambi as a pet.

Maybe it was just intimidation from years of having that damn dog come up and laugh at me on Duck Hunt.  Or MAYBE it was just that any desire to try was squashed by my husband exploding anything thrown into the air.  All those years of video games came to his aid and I think my dad and brother fell a little more in love with him.  He was a dead eye.  Again, I don't know what that means, they just kept saying it.

The boys

My baby brother (the biggest guy in the above picture) knows so much about the guns, the ammo, the safety and the skill.  He is a good teacher and I was impressed throughout the day.  Mostly I was impressed with how much natural skill and talent I possessed.  But a little impressed with his teaching.  Also his baby feeding skills are coming along, too.  

Felix got to hang with my mom while us men (scratch, burp, spit) went shooting.

Excellent day.  Next time we'll bring a picnic.

Felix at Four Months

Things About Felix at Four Months

Rode on his first ferry boat.

He can roll from back to stomach. 

Loves the Bjorn.

Sounds like a larger, louder baby dinosaur.

Uses right hand to hold his left hand in his mouth.

He is a happy, happy baby.

He visited Lopez Island.

He has doubled his birth weight at 14.4 pounds.

Has still never worn pants.

Pushing his nose makes him smile.

He likes to watch us eat.

Went to his second Mariners game and stayed awake until the second inning!

Can sit with help.

Reaches for toys.

Going Back to Work

Well, it's been an amazing four months.  Four months home with my sweet baby boy.  It has been a high point in my life to see him grow and watch him change.  To see him recognize me and his dad, to hear his babbles and love his enjoyment over the simplest things is amazing.

I'll be completely honest here.  I wasn't sure being a parent would be a good step for me.  I am not patient by any stretch of the imagination.  I like my sleep.  Seriously, someone had better be on fire if you're waking me up.  I'm immature and messy, not to mention selfish.  All qualities that could really conflict with raising a human.  I had hesitations, worries, lists, projects, safeguards, nights of complete terror.  And then he arrived.

And I was instantly head over heels in love.  Yes, it was hard.  Yes, it will be hard.  Yes, we are only four months in.  Yes, I am tired.  Yes, there are parts I love more than others.  But, and it's something that can only be understood by another parent, I can't believe how much I love this little person.

So much of the way I feel can't be expressed.  There are just no words for how much love, compassion, patience, willingness to get up in the night, wanting to stay home and hunker, and joy this whole parenthood thing brings me.  It just fits.  It feels like "why haven't we always felt this way?"  It's a big puzzle and, just when we think we have him figured out, he changes again and we start all over.

I'm in love with the whole idea and application of being a parent.  I feel pity for those parents we talk to who are constantly warning us "Just wait, it's gonna start to suck" or "Wait until the second one, you'll just put them in a corner as long as they're not crying." just give us the look of "Kids, huh?"  We wanted this and planned for him and prayed when a sane person would have just given up.  I pity those parents but take nothing but gratitude for my life from their comments.

All of this happiness, gratefulness, joy and contentment makes it that much harder to move to the next chapter in my life.  Going back to work.  Something so seemingly effortless and the obvious next step and so tear-inducing at the same time.

I thought I would be springing at the chance to go back.  I thought I would be doing cartwheels to be in the office.  But now, the night before, even with all my planning and preparation - which included easing Felix into the routine of going to his grandparents house every day, increasing the hours little by little - I find myself crying on Ben's shoulder, whispering, "I don't want to go."

Felix will be away from me for so many hours a day.  Yes, he will be in the very capable hands of his grandparents, but they are not my hands.  He will be smiling at their kind faces, but it's not my face.  He will learn from them, but they are not me.

I bet most moms go through this feeling.  The tides are suddenly in motion again.  Your uninterrupted time with your infant, with your tiny family unit, is over.  The outside world is waiting.  It all feels so huge, so hard.  All my work seems so trivial compared with hoping my son will roll over or cut a tooth.  Even as I type it I can see how insane and ridiculous that sounds.  But these are the feelings tonight on the eve of going back to work.