People talk a lot about the moment your baby reaches 3 months old. There's definitely good reason for that. Django's eyes are brighter, he's bigger all over, he burbles is so many more voices, and his hands hold a whole new fascination for him -- and me. You should see the way he sticks his arms straight out and just stares at his own little fists. Maybe it's a mom thing, but it makes me laugh every time. Especially when he has them in the "gotch'er nose" shape, or attempts to bring one to his mouth but lands it in his eye instead. Loads of fun.
One thing for sure -- now that he has a lot more to say, do and feel about his world -- I think I'm going through a growth spurt, as well. I can do a lot more things one-handed: go to the bathroom, open the mail, eat a hamburger. (No, seriously, you try it; it's not easy, especially if it's not in a wrapper of some sort.) I can turn any chore into something akin to a Broadway musical. I also have the ability to get through a bigger checklist in the same amount of time. It's no longer, "Let me see if you're hot/cold/hungry/need to be changed/or burped." Now it's, "Oh, you must be bored/frustrated/annoyed/sore/tired/confused/
hot/cold/hungry/need to be changed/or burped."
I'm telling you, we both have mad skillz now.
Another change is that I have started thinking of 2:30-4:30a as good, productive hours. It's a nice time to tidy the house, catch up on my magazine reading, change the rabbits' litter boxes, send email, eat breakfast -- basically, a nice time to do anything that needs to be done and can be, without waking the baby. Really, you should try it.
Oh yeah, and I've started the search for daycare for Django when I have to go back to work in the beginning of May. Everything about that sucks ass, pardon my French.
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