Our baby boy is growing up so fast.
Facial hair, already? With a manly name like Forrest, it kind of makes sense.
Another month has passed. Our sweet Forrest is four months old.
Length: 24.75 in - 50%
Weight: 13 lbs, 9 oz - 25%
Head 41.5 cm - 25%
Sunday, May 8th, Andrew took a few photos of Forrest with his many admirers. That huge wet spot on his shoulder is a great indicator as to why he doesn't get dressed for Church until we're just about ready to go.
Forrest is a busy boy! Gone are the days when I could just lay him in my lap, tickle his face and watch him peacefully doze off. When it's time to sleep, he wants to be in his crib. Most of the time, he will drift off on his own as long as his blanket and binki are near by. If I've missed that window of opportunity, I nurse him a minute and then, while he's still awake, I can set him down. This is fantastic for our day to day routine, but makes Church trickier. Not wanting to miss a minute of the action, he resists falling asleep when we are out and about. At night, he sleeps 6-8 hours, wakes up to eat and then goes back to sleep until it's time to get the big kids to school.
During playtime, he likes to be on the floor with a toy or looking at the face of a sibling/loved one. Other Forrest favorites include walks in the stroller, spending time outside and spinning around in that exersaucer of his. We still nurse exclusively because I'm too lazy for bottles and a huge fan of the nursing experience. I haven't introduced solids as he hasn't shown much interest yet.
Forrest has this magical way of slowing time way down when he is fussy. Those minutes seem unending. I stare at the clock, wondering if it's time for that long awaited nap or if something else is possibly bothering him. His eyelids look heavy so I decide to reunite him with his crib. We both feel that wondrous relief that comes with the promise of sleep. Here comes the surprise though. Even though the lingering effects of exhaustion, born of all four children, has not yet lifted, it isn't long until I miss him. It's almost comical considering how much I've looked forward to this window of freedom. But it's true. My arms want him back. And when that time comes, I turn into a silly cartoon of a person as I scoop him up, smell his sweet head, kiss his chubby cheek and sigh in sing-song voice,
"Hello Baby! Mama missed you! Did you sleep good?" And so on and so forth.
understandably exhausting, deliciously irresistible.
We love him.