Six Weeks

What they teach you in parenting class is that the first six weeks are crazy-slash-hellish, but that thereafter a routine develops and normal life resumes. Well. Conrad's almost seven weeks old, and if we were to take stock I'd say that (1) things never got as out of control as we had anticipated and (2) we're far from having a routine down. Sure, there have been obstacles and challenges (who knew breastfeeding is so damn difficult? I got the lactation consultant's phone number memorized in no time and consider the most useful parenting tool a device appropriately called My Brest Friend), but mostly it's been smooth sailing. Routine, however, I would not call the nightly circus of getting the baby to sleep: the only wisdom we've gathered is that whatever worked last night won't work tonight.

I suppose you know what comes next, namely that I'm going to tell you that I haven't knit a single stitch in over six weeks. And you're almost right. I have knit, but only one pattern repeat of that lace shawl I mentioned, oh, when was it? a lifetime ago? (Yes, I made up my mind, went against y'alls recommendation, and decided on... duh-duh-dum... the Lilac Leaf Shawl.) Of course there's no photographic evidence of the shawl, even though it's halfway done, thanks to that one extra week I spent waiting for the arrival of the Bean. Instead my camera is full of baby photos, so I'm going to slay you with cuteness and hope that this will distract from this post's lack of knitting content (as if that were to return any time soon! How some women nurse and knit at the same time is beyond me):

That's C at three weeks, all prim and proper. And a week later he really learned to smile and started to show his true nature, which is, at times, characterized by mischief:

And that's all for today. Happy St. Patrick's!

PS: Thank you so much for your good wishes and congratulatory comments!