As silly as it feels to shoot a video of my kid doing something as mundane as lying on his playmat making funny noises, I'm glad that I got his dolphin squeals on video last week, because he has suddenly dropped that skill completely from his repertoire. He's changing so fast, a point underscored yesterday when I ran into a friend and her six-week-old daughter who just now is about the size Nico was when he was born. I was actually a bit nervous to hold her baby, even though I hold mine every day. At 4 1/2 months, Nico is solid, heavy, almost always wiggling. In comparison, this sleeping newborn felt impossibly light and fragile. How can it be that my giant vibrant boy was not too long ago tiny and calm?
We've come to another highly symbolic milestone for Nico this week. Since strapping him into his carseat always makes him cranky and since he does such a good job holding his head steady, I decided to let him try riding in his stroller on his own last Wednesday when we took Indy for a walk, instead of making him ride in the carseat snapped into the stroller. It was such a success that we've been doing it ever since, despite the pangs I feel seeing him look like such a toddler. It's a small and stupid thing to get nostalgic over, but that's what mothering a baby seems to be -- a constant reminder of how fleeting each stage is before they're moving on to bigger and better things.
On Thursday Nico and I went out to lunch with my friend Evilducky and we went thrift shopping for the first time since Nico was born. I have a problem now where jeans that fit my thighs are baggy in the butt and jeans that fit in the butt are too tight in the thighs. For decency's sake, I always choose the ones that fit in the thigh, but I only have one pair that looks nice enough to wear to work. I cling to the hope that I won't carry this last seven pounds of pregnancy weight on my thighs forever, so I am unwilling to pay full price for jeans. After attempting to try on about a dozen pairs at several thrift stores, it has been made clear that I am officially stuck in thunder thigh / saggy butt territory for a while. But I did find a reasonably cute pair of Old Navy jeans for $5 that I found passable at the store, almost regretted buying, and then ended up loving once I got home and put them on. I'm sure they feel more attractive than they look, but I'm just going to roll with it.
Another wardrobe problem I'm having is beyond the power of thrift stores to heal, unfortunately. Before I got pregnant my boobs were already hovering around a size 34F. Well, sagging around. Nothing hovers when you're an F cup. No, it's not awesome. No, you don't wish you had this problem, no matter how petite your bosoms are, believe me. I have disliked the way I look for years, and only the knowledge that I wanted to try to breastfeed my kids kept me from seeking a reduction ages ago. Since Nico's birth, the hated "girls" (let's be honest, these things are full-on babushka grandmothers) have grown regrettably larger. I'm actually not even sure what bra size I should be wearing. There's no way I'm going to get fitted right now, either. They're too grotesque and besides, the one time i did get fitted, back when I was probably still a DD, the "bra fit specialist" told me I was a 36C. I haven't been a C since high school. I finally sucked it up and ordered a pretty and expensive nursing bra about a month ago in the largest size I could imagine needing, a 34 H/I. As in hell, no. I'm horrified to tell you that it didn't fit and I had to return it in the hope of finding a site that carries the same bra in a J/K. As in I wish I was kidding. It probably goes without saying that I'll be doing everything in my power to get downsized as soon as I wean Hugo 2, whenever that may be. I will never be glad that I had giant boobs, but at least I can send them off one day with a slightly fond farewell just for these months I've been able to exclusively breastfeed Nico. We'll always have that, my dear frenemies!