What about bob?
I'm going to revisit a post. I know, I'm boring as fuck, but you know what? I already knew that. Really though, I'm just going about my daily routine and including you with me.
What it's really like, I posted that a year ago or so, with a 10 month old Memphis and a video of him being a weirdo at the boob. I'm going to revisit that, without the video (right now) only because I don't have a video to share today. Instead, I'll share this pic.
And also, this one.
So as you can see, he is still my little boobie boy. It's quite a bit different now than it was a year ago. So much so, some days I wonder if it's the same child. You can see in that top pic he's a two boob nurser. One in his mouth and one in his hand and it doesn't work for him any other way no matter where we are or who is around. Gods love her, my little niece was a little freaked out and maybe even a little grossed out by his overwhelming need to nurse this last weekend when they were here for dinner. If we can even call what that was dinner but that my friends is a whole other story!
Memphis is my last child, and I thought long and hard about this over the last few days. Is this for me or for him? In part, it IS for me, for a number of reasons. Most of those reasons are my own and I choose not to share them, but the ones I will share are as follows. It's a great bond, and it can tame a tantrum in a matter of seconds. With this particular kid, that is a necessity that I had not encountered with any of the other kids. It lowers my cancer risks in a few parts of my body, boobs included. The parts for him are just not something I can list. This kid is beyond what I thought I was getting into. When Maxwell was a baby, we joked about how he had ruined it for any future children we might have. The possibility at the time was a non possibility. We WERE NOT going to have more children, Memphis was not even a hope or a wish then. So it really was a joke, something we giggled about late into the nights as we gazed at our beautiful little being that was so perfectly behaved.
Phiz is not that child. He is a force of nature, a whirlwind on feet, every metaphor you can think of describing a difficult child. Some days I'm not sure if it's due to my poor health or his true behavior or what, but the reality is, he's a high needs child. That does not make me love him any less or want him any less so don't ever mistake my jokes for that, because it's just not true. If given the choice again, knowing then what I know now, my choice would be the same, I would indeed risk my life for him. I'd do it for any of them, that's just what mothers do. Anyway, I'm rambling. When I originally started this blog, it was because my oldest son was supposed to be my last child. That was 5 pregnancies and 3 kids ago. Yes, one of them is an angel baby, but I believe he counts as I birthed him and gave him a name and watched him go to summerland. Phizzy is just such a handful that I'm not sure what to do with him sometimes.
Kids are a product of our own design. Once when I was starting my parenting journey, someone told me that my job was to do myself out of a job. Meaning, that my whole purpose in this deal was to get these people to where they didn't need me. Give them roots and wings. Well, in that respect, I've sucked hard at this job. My nineteen year old daughter still lives at home with no prospect of moving out. My almost seventeen year old is a reclusive weirdo that never leaves the house (I know, he's just like his mother) and my baby spends his days watching spongebob and having boobies. So what is my point? I guess I don't have one. But really, do I ever? The title of the post is a strange one too, he has a code word for boobies that his sister taught him. He calls them bobby when we're in public so that people don't stare, but really, everyone stares anyway. I think it has something to do with my favorite t shirt that says "keep staring I might do a trick" though, not my boobs popping out.
On another note, Bear did indeed have another litter of puppies. Here are some pictures to share with you all of them. They are just now opening their little eyes today, and then mom, dad, big sister and the little boy we are keeping are all going to get fixed. Why am I keeping one you may ask? Because we re homed Lady. Sadly, her and Bear just could not get along and Lady was so high energy anyway, but she went to a good home that will take great care of her and I can see her whenever I would like to. Ok, so here for those pics I promised ;)
This one is Tinker, all grown up, she's roughly six months old now and this is her adult size, even if she's not all grown up in the head yet. The tan one on the left is little Murdock, her baby brother, the one that will be joining the family. The rest will find homes like last time.
So, that is my happenings for the day, the week, whatever. I still have reviews yet to do and I SUCK at getting them done. I also have a tutorial for baklava because I made some and I think everyone should know how. I need to go back to work, and I have yet to be able to really do that. (For those that don't know what I do to "work" it's a whole blog in its self and I'm not sure how some of you will react to it, so I've not told a few of you what exactly IT is.) I'm not sure how to deal with a few of my personal feelings about our communal living either, but there again, it's a blog all in its self. So, until next time...
J
What it's really like, I posted that a year ago or so, with a 10 month old Memphis and a video of him being a weirdo at the boob. I'm going to revisit that, without the video (right now) only because I don't have a video to share today. Instead, I'll share this pic.
Memphis is my last child, and I thought long and hard about this over the last few days. Is this for me or for him? In part, it IS for me, for a number of reasons. Most of those reasons are my own and I choose not to share them, but the ones I will share are as follows. It's a great bond, and it can tame a tantrum in a matter of seconds. With this particular kid, that is a necessity that I had not encountered with any of the other kids. It lowers my cancer risks in a few parts of my body, boobs included. The parts for him are just not something I can list. This kid is beyond what I thought I was getting into. When Maxwell was a baby, we joked about how he had ruined it for any future children we might have. The possibility at the time was a non possibility. We WERE NOT going to have more children, Memphis was not even a hope or a wish then. So it really was a joke, something we giggled about late into the nights as we gazed at our beautiful little being that was so perfectly behaved.
Phiz is not that child. He is a force of nature, a whirlwind on feet, every metaphor you can think of describing a difficult child. Some days I'm not sure if it's due to my poor health or his true behavior or what, but the reality is, he's a high needs child. That does not make me love him any less or want him any less so don't ever mistake my jokes for that, because it's just not true. If given the choice again, knowing then what I know now, my choice would be the same, I would indeed risk my life for him. I'd do it for any of them, that's just what mothers do. Anyway, I'm rambling. When I originally started this blog, it was because my oldest son was supposed to be my last child. That was 5 pregnancies and 3 kids ago. Yes, one of them is an angel baby, but I believe he counts as I birthed him and gave him a name and watched him go to summerland. Phizzy is just such a handful that I'm not sure what to do with him sometimes.
Kids are a product of our own design. Once when I was starting my parenting journey, someone told me that my job was to do myself out of a job. Meaning, that my whole purpose in this deal was to get these people to where they didn't need me. Give them roots and wings. Well, in that respect, I've sucked hard at this job. My nineteen year old daughter still lives at home with no prospect of moving out. My almost seventeen year old is a reclusive weirdo that never leaves the house (I know, he's just like his mother) and my baby spends his days watching spongebob and having boobies. So what is my point? I guess I don't have one. But really, do I ever? The title of the post is a strange one too, he has a code word for boobies that his sister taught him. He calls them bobby when we're in public so that people don't stare, but really, everyone stares anyway. I think it has something to do with my favorite t shirt that says "keep staring I might do a trick" though, not my boobs popping out.
On another note, Bear did indeed have another litter of puppies. Here are some pictures to share with you all of them. They are just now opening their little eyes today, and then mom, dad, big sister and the little boy we are keeping are all going to get fixed. Why am I keeping one you may ask? Because we re homed Lady. Sadly, her and Bear just could not get along and Lady was so high energy anyway, but she went to a good home that will take great care of her and I can see her whenever I would like to. Ok, so here for those pics I promised ;)
J
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