Now at one week on the planet, he is a wizened, aged soul with much to tell about his adventures in the great Rooms of Living and Bed and Occasionally Kitchen. Observe his amazing transformation:

In other news, recovery is going … slowly. I am trying not to be discouraged by it (in retrospect, it seems like I was bounding around the town by now, grocery shopping, moving furniture, training for triathlons with week-old babies in tow) but the truth is the reason it’s taking longer than it did the other two times is that I am older (see also: Other Two Times). So I should just be able to observe that logic and say, “Ah yes! That’s logical!” but logic aside, the reason is still just: Dude, I’m Old.

I tried yesterday to wean off my prescription-strength ibuprofen pills, thinking it’s been a week, woman, shake it off already, but yeah: Nuh-uh. I hobbled around the house at a snail’s pace all morning and whimpered through a shower before caving in to the tiny white pill master. Not time yet, grasshopper. Luckily my mom has been here since last Monday, doing all the things (No, but ALL the things. Thanks a million, Mom!) and so I have a chance to rest on the couch watching copious amounts of Netflix, but there are still other things that get in the way of full recovery, like, you know, getting up to feed a baby every two hours of the night (or 45 minutes, if he’s in the mood to par-tay!) and all the accompanying discomfort that brings to the chest-icle area. (The air! Why does it have to be so heavy!)

But in equally relevant news, I continue to be gobsmackingly head over heels for this little nugget of a baby, our last one (for SURE after that labor, hoo boy, tell you about that later), a sweet thing who sleeps and eats and endures his siblings’ overzealous affections in good stride. I spend at least a full hour of every day with my nose pressed into his neck folds. He is delicious.

More on the story of his arrival later, right after I’ve taken my next magic pill … and had a nap … and fed the baby …

(Real version to come …)

]]> http://yestertimeblog.com/2012/05/13/the-birth-of-max-abridged-version/feed/ 0 http://yestertimeblog.com/2012/05/11/a-bit-of-an-update/ http://yestertimeblog.com/2012/05/11/a-bit-of-an-update/#comments Sat, 12 May 2012 01:32:39 +0000 racher http://yestertimeblog.com/?p=5556

Oh hello. I’d like you to meet someone. Max Simmons Ellis, the Internet. Internet, Max. Let’s all get acquainted, shall we?

(Many [manymanymanymany] more pictures and a story to follow …)

No. No I haven’t. But thanks for asking, every person I see everywhere. However, this has happened:

That is a lot of harnessing. We are strapped IN in this car, dudes.

My last day of work is Friday. Finish line, team. I can see it.

For the month of April, I participated in the Photo of the Day meme dealio, where there was a prompt given for each day which you could interpret any way you pleased. Once you found something you wanted to photo-gram that fit that theme, you shot it, filtered it, and then hashtagged it with #photoadayapril, where it was then added to a giant pool of people’s shots of their interpretations of that day’s word or phrase. Really fun, really easy and at the end, you have a month’s worth of snapshots of your daily life. Pretty rad, I think. Here is my April, Instagram-photo-a-day-style:

Day 1: Reflection

Obvious. But remarkable, given the particular time in my life.

Day 2: Color

Rosie and one of her “maps.”

Day 3: Mail

I pass the postal mecca every day on the way to work.

Day 4: Something that makes you happy

Duh.

Day 5: Tiny

Gah.

Day 6: Lunch

Most of the pool of pictures this day consisted of gorgeous spreads of artfully arranged meals. I kept it real.

Day 7: Shadow

Noah, dreaming big on a Saturday.

(I skipped Day 8. Partially because it was “Inside your wallet” and no one wanted to see pictures of 327 Target receipts and moths and partially because I forgot.)

Day 9: Younger you

Here I am as a fetus, getting married.

Day 10: Cold

Lows in the 50s? Where’s my scarf, y’all?

Day 11: Where you ate breakfast

Lie. I ate in my car, like I do every day.

Day 12: Stairs

Rosie’s dollhouse.

Day 13: Something you found

Clearly.

Day 14. How you feel today

I was feeling maternal. Also, pregnant.

Day 15: Sunset

Totally forgot to do this one, too. This was more like sunsat.

Day 16: Flower

Our neighbor’s rose bush, caught in the sunlight while walking Noah to school. He came out while I was taking the picture and said I could have as many as I wanted.

Day 17: Something I don’t like

TRAFFIC

Day 18: Hair

Took a million shots of the top of my head before I realized this shot was approximately one bazillion times better.

Day 19: Orange

You knew burritos would show up at some point, right?

Day 20: Something you drew

Slash, something my offspring drew.

Day 21: Bottle

This was the wall of a restaurant L and I went to on a bona fide actual date. It was rad. (The date. And the restaurant.)

Day 22: The last thing you bought

Yes to eensy baby clothes.

Day 23: Vegetable

What?

Day 24: Something you’re grateful for

This guy.

Day 25: Looking down

When I saw this prompt early in the month, I thought, well, duh: my belly. But I have taken 193838473284328 pictures of my belly from that perspective, and so luckily Rosie peed in her pants while we were in public, kindly providing me with inspiration for that day’s picture.

Day 26: Black + white

No explanation necessary.

Day 27: Somewhere you went

Ms. Needham’s first grade class, Clairemont Elementary School

Day 28: 1 pm

Once again, we were having burritos.

Day 29: Circle

Magna Doodle: the original Draw Something

Day 30: Something that makes you sad

Swole feet.

There you have it. Thirty pictures in 30 days. I dig. Jury’s still out on whether or not I’ll do May’s PAD challenge. I’m still looking for the one where every day’s prompt says “YOUR BABY.” I’ll keep you posted.

]]> http://yestertimeblog.com/2012/04/30/a-photo-a-day/feed/ 1 http://yestertimeblog.com/2012/04/29/weekend-still-shots-2/ http://yestertimeblog.com/2012/04/29/weekend-still-shots-2/#comments Mon, 30 Apr 2012 02:49:56 +0000 racher http://yestertimeblog.com/?p=5523 PROJECT!

The baby’s side of Rosie/his room is not really decorated, per se, but it’s coming along. It’s functional, which is the most important part, I know, I know, but I’ma need some art on the walls at some point! And maybe a tchotchke or five! Currently, I’m waiting on the knobs I ordered from Etsy to put on the new dresser/changing table L did battle with to assemble a few weeks ago. I’ll be photo-gramming that after le bebe arrives, since his side has a knob with his initial (Rosie’s side has an R knob), and we don’t want to go spoiling any surprises now, do we? Noooooo.

I am becoming increasingly nervous about my commute to work. Per doctor’s orders, I am only driving in three times a week, but even so I have this recurring nightmare about going into labor solo on the side of I-75S. If you’ve read Rosie’s birth story, you know this is not an impossibility. Maybe I should look into a police escort. Or at the very least, put clean towels in the passenger seat, just in case.

Noahmenclature

A couple of weeks ago, we told Noah the baby’s name. (But not Rosie, because that would be like announcing it on Facebook. Or on national television.) We told him it was a secret, and he has been like a CIA recruit with the knowledge. Ain’t no one getting that info, son. In the meantime, he whispers goodbye to my belly using the name in hushed tones when I drop him off at school, or sometimes spells it out when Rosie’s around, just because he can. It was a good idea to tell him, I think.

Maternity left

Somehow my brain is under the impression I already had this baby and therefore is functioning under newborn sleep-deprived mode early. Simple tasks, I am not completing them so well. The number of people I have emailed about subjects entirely unrelated to them is too numerous to count, and a couple of times I have just plumb forgotten to start dinner (once because I fell asleep on the couch, but still). Plus, I drop stuff all the damn time. No, but ALL the time. I don’t know if this is a puffy finger thing, or a cruel joke that the Universe is playing because it likes to watch attempt to bend over to retrieve all the things or what, but it’s stupid and no thank you.

We can do it

Rosie has mentioned her desire to “grow up and be a mama” several times to me, which I find endearing and also slightly alarming, like I need to affirm that choice but also make sure she gets enough rah rah feminist talk to balance things out? I mean, I’m pro-being-a-mama, obviously, but am also in favor of that being an “in addition to …” statement. Maybe for a fun Saturday activity we will learn how to weld or perhaps burn my bra in the front yard. Something. I’ll keep you posted.

Yeah, that just happened.

(Won’t be a table for four much longer.)

Explanation of WSSs here.

Compilation of past WSSs here.

He had come over the day before to “scout the location” (that’s fancy photographer talk, right there) and Noah agreed to be his assistant while he found the spot with the best light. I wasn’t home at the time, so I didn’t know that assistants also sometimes get their photo taken while they’re helping. This was a mighty nice discovery.

The next day as my part of the shoot was wrapping up, Rosie bopped through the dining room and into the kitchen and announced, “MOM! YOU FORGOT TO GET ME SOME YOGURT!” Which I had promised her the day before, or maybe last week, who knows. But Jerry called her back in to where we were and asked her if she’d like to have her picture taken, and without skipping a beat, she hopped up on a chair and started mugging. You guys, it was like she was a signed model with Cover Girl, or last year’s winner of ANTM. She took direction. Like, “Move your chin down just a little” kind of direction. I watched the whole thing with my jaw dropped, taking pointers for the next time I want her to put on her pants. Or get in the bathtub. Or do anything that requires direction at all.

What he got was this:

This girl, you guys. These kids. The fact that they belong to me blows my mind on a daily basis.

All photos (except for the ones with Jerry in them) are courtesy of Jerry Burns. Thanks Jerry!

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