Peaches and Dreams
I had a baby eight weeks ago. EIGHT WEEKS. It’s been both a flash and, quite literally, a whole entire lifetime. I try not to think about it too hard because it makes my brain ache and my heart do not-altogether-comfortable loop-de-loops. Quick, think of something else! Pay no attention to the giant clock on the wall, ticking my life away as I type!
Meanwhile, riddle me this: How is it that despite my earnest get-fit efforts, I still look pretty much the same (I always thought this would be the death of me, but maybe it will be this extra 25 pounds?) whereas our fantastic Mr. Fox just lays (lies?) around all day and looks fatter and fatter, yes, but also looks freakin’ spectacular. I do not like the baby fat on me, but I’m reveling in the fat on my baby. I have never had a baby with chunk. Roly poly porkhead.
Holy moly sporkable middle.
I’ll take the two-piece thigh meal, please.
Snacktastic.
Who, me?
Yes, you.
Guaaaaards!
No, it’ll be fun. I promise. Just…hold…still…
Well…okay.
So Fox is edible, yes indeedy, but I’ve tried to keep it under wraps at home (lest I have to share my portion). To my knowledge, Wombat has never heard the multitude of wildly-popular-despite-their-horrific-implications “eat the baby” expressions, and yet something deep inside his humanoid lizard brain has evidently signaled that it is perfectly socially acceptable to rake a pretend ice cream scoop across his brother’s belly, bring the imaginary contents to his mouth, make an “om nom” noise, and then declare, “He tastes like peaches! Have a bite!”
Ruh-roh.
Now, I do not generally condone the eating of our own species, but in this case I have come to the conclusion (and quite easily) that resistance is futile. If your wagon train is going to get stuck in a snowstorm for a month or more, Fox is the kid you want to have in your makeshift cabin is what I’m saying.
You’re joking, yes? Ha ha ha?
(See, eating babies is actually quite terrible when you think about it. Plus, the portions are so small. Disappointing.)
And yet if they didn’t want to get eaten they should maybe stop being SO DELICIOUS.
I taste like peeeeeaches!
Cutest baby ever! Legit!
Thank you! Can I get some sort of notarized certificate that verifies this?
He’s so adorable. Hand me knife and fork, please.
I had a baby six months ago, and while time flies all (ALL) too quickly, the good thing is, he is still totally edible in all his cute baby-fatness. He is fat like his sister never was, and I love it, because it means I’m loving another baby, not a copy of the first one. (As for shedding the pounds, at six months I am almost done, but with the first one I was thinner at six months than before I got pregnant with her. This is one thing I would have loved to be exactly the same the second time around.)
Yeah, I lost the weight really quickly (and with pretty much zero effort) after Wombat was born, and I think that’s why I’m so impatient this time. I *know* my body can get close to what it was before, so it’s hard to let up on wanting it to happen NOW NOW NOW.
I also love what you said about being able to love a different baby. So, so true (and thank god!).
Beautiful, edible baby!
Want a nibble?
I have yet to say congratulations to you and family. He is so adorable and I’m quite sure very delicious.
Thank you so much!
Is it weird to say that his hairline is adorable?
No, but I figured it *was* weird to write an entire paragraph about how I like to nuzzle it, which is why I deleted it. Ha.
Have not even thought about trying to lose the weight yet, but mostly because I went back to work and there are just not enough hours in the day. Although there are plenty of hours for me to play on Twitter and make cookies. Kudos to you, stronger woman than I!
Is that a cloth diaper Fox is wearing?
Not cloth but a gDiaper someone gave us that I *want* to love but am so far finding a giant pain in the ass. :/ They look good in pictures, though!
Ohmygoodness. So funny. So perfectly funny and Jonathon Swifty. My students actually call my six-month old my “pastry baby” because I seem to only be able to discuss him in terms of food-type adjectives.
I, too, was struggling to lose the end of my baby weight. And then my chubby pastry baby turned five months and glugged it right off of me. There is hope.
I love that. I’m putting in a strict order for Fox to start glugging.
DYING from the cute. Also! He got your blue eyes!