Okay; these pictures are all from my phone over the last 12 days or so. I only know that because Phoebe is twelve days old. I feel simultaneously like I'm taking too many pictures and not enough pictures. But mostly I'm just trying to survive. I think I'll feel a lot better after finals are over (this group project is killing me (figuratively)).
Last night I broke out in hives!
Apparently postpartum hives are a thing (I'm assuming my root cause is stress (see: group project, above)).
So that's been a fun little side effect, in addition to some pretty wild afterpains and some wicked engorgement and lack of sleep and...so forth. But all those things should be coming to an end soon (except, I suppose, for the lack of sleep).
Anyway, I'm not sure how much dialogue I'll share regarding these photos that I snapped. Mostly I just think my children are adorable.
But I will tell you a quick story about Alexander.
For whatever reason the boys were fighting over a Jedi robe before bed. Alexander wanted to wear it in the morning so that he could be a Jedi Master. Benjamin also wanted to wear it, presumably so that he could be a Jedi Master.
"But if you wear the cape tomorrow then I can’t be the Jedi Master!" Alexander whined.
"Well, that will be too bad if I get to the cape first," Benjamin said, darting upstairs (presumably to hide the cape/robe).
"I want to KILL you!" Alexander fumed.
"Oh, Alexander!" I gasped. "That’s a pretty strong emotion you’re feeling. You are free to be angry or sad—and sometimes those angry and sad emotions feel very powerful—but surely you don’t want to kill your brother!!"
"FIGURE’tively, Mom!" he reassured me. "FIGURE’tively!"
All the grown ups in the room exchanged looks of disbelief. Did he just say what I thought he said? What was it that he said?
"Figuratively?" I repeated.
"Figure. Tively," Alexander affirmed.
And we lost it. Grandpa, Andrew, and I were all just cracking up (while trying to remain serious). How does this sweet little four-year-old baby (who just started talking intelligibly in June) know and use that word correctly?! It was comically shocking.
"Even so," I said, trying desperately to regain my composure. "We don't want to use such strong and hurtful words figuratively."
He really is a sweet little guy even if he uses colourful figurative language sometimes (while other times he wishes for "actulal" swords so he can "defense" himself against his older siblings). Here he is helping Phoebe maintain a good nursing position (look at those innocent blue eyes—who knew they were figuratively capable of so much!?):