Yesterday, while at the lactation clinic, I was holding a diapered Elliot on my lap. Fifteen minutes later, I realized that there were little smears of poo all over my pants--which was irritating, because a) gross, and b) this is why we buy the expensive diapers, so this doesn't happen. But there wasn't anything to do about it, besides carry on and get weighed, and then hurry home and change pronto. Except that after hurrying home I was hungry and Elliot was starving, so we both ate, and then I unloaded the dishwasher, and several hours later I realized that i was still wearing the poo-pants. This, friends, is something to consider if you are thinking about becoming a parent: you too might be so tired that you forget that there is poo on your pants.
Did we tell you that Elliot outgrew a shirt? He did. One of the little white kimono shirts that was all that would fit him when he was new will now not stay down over his pot belly. Also, he can wear a couple of 3-6 month outfits, but not all of them.
Still, though, he's so little that when you hold him on your lap you can completely wrap around him. It is incredibly sweet. Now that I'm reassured he's growing, I'm also getting nostalgic for his infancy. He's so tidy and reasonable now. I can hardly believe he will ever turn into one of those crazy monster six month olds.
My folks were here this weekend, and Brandon and I took advantage of the free-babysitting opportunity to sneak out for a date--we went to a matinee. It was the first time I'd been away from Elliot for more than an hour, and I was pretty fretful the whole time. I'm still not sure if I was more worried about being away from him, or having to go back to him once the movie was over. Part of me definitely wanted to make a run for the border while I had the chance. It was the first time I really encountered how big and strange motherhood is. Babies are so small, but when you are with them all the time they really occupy your whole field of vision.