In Case of Divorce

Sage recently finished reading two books about children of divorced parents that had to choose which parent they would live with, and she told us about it yesterday.

This afternoon, while I was feeding Christian, Eliza informed me, “If I had to choose a parent to live with, I would choose you.”

Before she could continue, I interjected, “But just think about how nice daddy is—he plays the piano for you to sing along with, and watches Youtube videos of Yo Gabba Gabba with you...”

  

Then it was Eliza’s turn to interrupt me. “No, I’d pick you, because Christian would go with you, because you have milk to drink him and Daddy doesn’t.”

Oh.

At least now I know who the competition is.

Post partum picture

I think there were five times in the nine months of my last pregnancy that I found myself on the other side of the camera. 

With my baby boy growing up before my eyes, I decided to take matters into my own hands.  Or, rather, into the hands of the timer on the camera.

It took six rounds of ten pictures on my camera's self-timer, but it was worth it to get this one picture that I love of myself and the little guy that spends over eight hours a day (and night) in my arms.

It may take another nine months of exercise before I'm willing to post a picture of anything below my neck. (Or nineteen. Or ninety.)

But in the sweetness of this little baby, I can find love for myself and even for my stretched out stomach. 

Especially if I can be the one positioning the lens.

(Inspired by this.)