Eli Alexander, today you are three. If I had to use three words to describe you, they would be curious, funny, and smart. You ask a million questions each day, love nothing more than to make people laugh, and shock us constantly with how much you know and are able to articulate.

This fall, you've had a growth spurt and the pants that had to be rolled up twice in September now just fit you. You love to play outside, help bake cookies, and play with trucks. Your favourite dinosaur is triceratops, favourite colour is blue, and favourite song is Shake It Off. You're a finicky eater but you'll never turn down English muffins, grapes, or Greek yogurt.

Every night you want to read before bed - lately you're all about Richard Scarry's word book - and you've learned to ask before you pat the dogs we see on our walks. You're kind and tender hearted and show compassion for everyone. You're a stickler for manners. You're stubborn and handsome. You still take a nap every afternoon, thank God.

We asked you what you wanted for your birthday and your only wish was a birthday cake.

We love you more and more every day.

This year it feels like the switch from fall and Halloween to winter and "Christmastime" has happened really abruptly. On Saturday morning, November 1, we went to get groceries and and the Christmas decorations were out - I'm talking trees, wreaths, the works. Daylight savings happened Saturday night, and since then the weather has been c-c-c-cold, winter coat cold. My first Starbucks red cup was obtained yesterday. Is time on fast forward?

November used to be my least favourite month of the year; now it's one of my favourites, with Eli's birthday, some solid crunchy leaf walks, the return of the slow cooker, and the beginnings of Christmas preparation. It's time to start thinking about booking our holiday theatre date and what to wear to the office party. November is not a month to slouch: there's a lot on the calendar.

November 1: eye appointment; Rory's grooming appointment
November 6: dinner out
November 8: play date for Eli
November 9: Eli's family birthday party
November 10: Eli's third birthday! Also a vacation day for me. (So excited for this.)
November 15: Christmas parade in the city
November 16: basketball game
November 17: follow up eye appointment

In addition to all the calendar stuff, plus work, plus gym, plus caring for a fairly small human being and a dog, there are plenty of other things to do this month. NEVER A DULL MOMENT, hooo no.

+ take a Christmas card photo and get them to the printer
+ make dentist appointments for Eli and myself
+ bake cupcakes and a cake for Eli's birthday
+ make a BIG dent in my Christmas shopping. Ideally I'd like to be done this month, but that may be wishful thinking.
+ get a haircut
+ book remaining vacation days for 2014
+ decorate Eli's big boy room. Furniture has been ordered. Goodbye, toddler bed and glider rocker. Get ready for more emo posts on this topic. :*(

What I want to be doing? 

+ watching Home Alone
+ drinking coffee and Baileys
+ baking and eating Nutella brownies (two ingredients, c'mon)

We've gone apple picking as a family every October since Eli was born. This was his third trip to the orchard and once again we had a fantastic time filling our bag with fresh apples, sampling a few on the way, and plotting some of the delicious goodies we'll make from our harvest (this year: apple butter, applesauce, apple crisp, and maybe some muffins? Plus plenty for snacks with almond butter). Apples just taste better when they're straight off the tree.

Every time I've started to write a post lately, it's been all over the place. I have lots of things to talk about: my looming birthday, a life-changing wardrobe organizing trick I just learned, the most epic of Pinterest fails, the internal debate that's still raging on about running a half marathon in less than a month, FEELINGS GALORE.

I try really hard not to let this turn into a mama blog, but the only thing I seem to be able to talk about right now is my wee boy. So, even though it's not a birthday milestone for him, here's a little glimpse into the life of Eli Alexander as of late.

[+] Pete and I had our first night away from Eli on the weekend. I didn't post about it beforehand because hi, come rob our house! But we were gone for a couple days, and spent a night at a hotel while Eli stayed with my parents. 24 hours away from the wee guy was rough. Most of the time, I was thinking about what Eli was doing/praying he was sleeping and not going ballistic/texting for Eli updates. It was also awesome: we had massages, went out for dinner, enjoyed breakfast in our room, went to the gym, went swimming, had drinks, and slept in. By "slept in" I mean "woke up at 6:30 and tried to go back to sleep until 9:00 and then just got up because we were too excited to see Eli." One day I will sleep in again. Just not anytime soon.

[+] Eli and I went to play soccer after work yesterday. I had big visions of us merrily kicking a soccer ball back and forth. What I didn't realize was how fast he is - it's easy to underestimate those little legs. He kept running towards the jungle gym, which was full of "big kids" doing God knows what - I presume smoking weed or eating bath salts or whatever kids are doing these days - so we didn't stay long.

[+] I'm discovering some tricks to get Mr. Fussy to eat. One, he loves ketchup. Kid will eat anything dipped in ketchup. Two, applesauce. If he's not eating his veggies I stir them into some applesauce: boom, down the hatch.

[+] Eli has finally started giving kisses. I swoon every single time.

[+] He's sprouting eight teeth at the same time: four eye teeth and four molars.

[+] Today he was looking at his Star Wars ABC book, turned to the Darth Vader page, pointed at the big D, and said, "D!" I freaked out, and went all "MY BOY'S WICKED SMAAAHT". Then he proceeded to call all the letters D. Relax, crazy mother.

There you have it: a peek at the life of a 17-month-old. We'll be back to our regularly scheduled programming of feelings, Pinterest mashups, and lists of gifts I would like to receive soon enough.

A year ago today, I was seven months pregnant. I woke up, had a banana, and went to the gym, like I did most mornings. Ran five miles on the treadmill, slow and steady, feeling great. Came home, hopped in the shower, and that's when I noticed a little bit of blood. Never a good thing. Definitely not when you're seven months pregnant.

I called 811, who told me to go to the walk-in clinic just to get checked out. I skipped that step and headed for the hospital, where they hooked me up and realized I was starting to dilate and having regular contractions. With every contraction my baby's heart rate was dipping. Normally, they'd just administer medications to stop labour but the concern that the baby was in distress threw a wrench into those plans. Very quickly it became apparent that I might be having my baby that day, two months early.

I ended up spending the day in a birthing room, just in case. I wasn't allowed to eat or drink anything. I had a profile done to make sure the baby was healthy and determine how big it would be so the team would be prepared if this tiny person decided to make an early appearance.

All day I stared at the numbers on the monitor, willing them to stay stable. I cried a little and prayed a lot, as I tend to do whenever things are going wiggity whack, but never when things are going well. At the end of the day, I got some medications that would hopefully stop my contractions, and sometime in the wee hours of the morning they finally settled down. I spent the rest of the week in the hospital and the next four weeks on a modified form of bed rest: no more work, no walking farther than the mailbox, no housecleaning, not driving more than 20 minutes from home.

For a month, I basically shuffled around my house, sitting gingerly on the couch with my legs squeezed together willing this baby to stay put. I read a lot, watched a lot of TV, and even started playing Xbox, if that's any indicator as to how bored I was. I hate sitting still so for me those weeks were horrible, but I tried to take it easy and remember what the doctor said: every day I carried the baby was two fewer days we'd have to spend in the NICU.

At 36 weeks, I did the biggest fist-pump of life. Full term! Every day after that was a bonus. I started taking longer walks, and going back to the gym, and generally not being scared the baby was going to fall out of me onto the floor if I went shopping or out for dinner. And wouldn't you know it, after all that ruckus in September, Eli was born on November 10, his due date.

It has been a crazy year, not without its stresses. The stress of almost having a preemie and then walking on eggshells to make sure I didn't. A difficult delivery and recovery. The usual stuff that comes with a new baby. Figuring it all out without having grandparents five minutes away to help out was tough.

I'm lucky to have a husband who's supportive, and I'm in awe of single parents. I'm lucky to have a rambunctious 10-month-old baby boy who's healthy and happy. A crazy year but a beautiful year, too. I have a lot to be thankful for. Things could have been a whole lot different and our little boy could have had a very difficult start to life.

There are so many things about Eli right now that I don't want to ever forget. He'll be eight months old tomorrow and it's such a fun age. I feel like I say that about all the ages, but really, he keeps getting more and more awesome to be around.


Here are some of the things I want to remember:

The crazy way his hair stands up like a fluffy dandelion on top.
The way he giggles, babbles, sings and coos when he's having fun.
The way he waves his arms when he gets excited, like a bird flapping his wings.
The chubbiness of his feet and legs. Oh, those thigh rolls.


His ticklishness and the cackly giggle he does when you tickle him.
The way he thrashes his arms and legs around when you throw a blanket over him and ask, "Where's Eli?" And the huge smile you get when he finally pops out.
How he dances to any and all music. He's not picky about the genre. He just likes to bop.
The way he's just as amused with a napkin or a plastic water bottle as he is with the fanciest toys.
The way he rips apart his alphabet mat every single day.
The way he freaks out in the bathtub every evening, as if each bath is the BEST. TIME. EVER.
How he giggles at the dog whenever we come downstairs and pulls on his ears whenever he can get ahold of them.

Eli turns eight months old tomorrow. I'm happy I've been able to spend the past eight months with this little guy and am looking forward to our summer together.

Eli Alexander, I can't believe you're four months old already. You're turning into quite the little man. You're getting more giggly and more curious about everything around you. You've gone on some walks in your carrier now that the weather is nicer, and you just stare at everything - trees, houses, cars, plants.



You love to grab anything within your reach and cram it in your mouth. And you try so hard to be a big boy - if you're lying down, you try to pull yourself into a sitting position; if you're sitting up, you want us to help you practice "standing". When you're on your belly you're already trying to scoot. So far you can't go forward or backward - just around in a circle. You seem to be frustrated by this. You'll be all over the house soon enough, so we're enjoying being able to plop you down somewhere and know you won't make it too far just yet.


This month you've started moving around in your crib. There have been times when we put you right in the centre to sleep and by morning you'll have your head jammed in one of the corners, very unhappy about it. You also roll onto your side a lot, and will probably be rolling back-to-front soon. Rolling front-to-back is a cinch for you now.



You're still not sleeping through the night but we've stopped worrying about it and comparing you to other babies - it's more common for a four-month-old to not sleep through the night, and you'll get there eventually. Lately you've been getting up around midnight to eat and then not again until five-thirty or six, so that's not too shabby. Your naps are starting to get more predictable and you usually have a snooze around nine AM, noonish, and midafternoon. Sometimes they're 45 minutes, sometimes two hours. You still fall asleep in your carseat and thankfully you're able to put yourself to sleep at naptime.


You've discovered your feet, you love being in your exersaucer, you like being tickled, and silly noises and voices make you laugh. Bathtime is your favourite time of the day. You stretch your arms out to be picked up from your crib and seeing you reach up for us with your big grin is the best thing in the world. You love to talk - sometimes loud shrieks and sqwawks and sometimes soft babbling. Whatever it is you're telling us, it must be very important.

We love you more and more and can't wait for the next month with you - playing outside, wearing green for St. Patrick's Day and your first Easter!

Eli Alexander, you turned three months old on Friday. How is that possible? In the past three months you've gone from being a teeny warm slug-baby who slept all day to a lively, bouncy little man who thinks sneezes are hilarious and naps are for suckas.

The past month has been a big one for you, little man. You've learned how to roll over and laugh. You've discovered your hands and you love to grab onto things and slobber all over them. You became a drool machine and you want to gnaw on everything in sight, which has me worrying about teeth already, but from what I've read, the drool-chew-slobber stage can last for many weeks.

You went on your first sleepover and had some play dates. You made Valentines for your grandparents, aunts and uncles, went for walks around the neighbourhood, and spent most of your days hanging out with your mama.

Your smile is hands down the most beautiful one I've ever seen. When you're happy, your whole face lights up, your big brown eyes crinkle up and you let out a squeal that makes whoever's holding you absolutely melt. When you wake us up at some obscenely early hour and we stagger into your room to get you, a little crabby at the rude awakening, and you greet us with one of those smiles, we stop caring about what time it is. That smile is what makes me think "oh, we could have another baby or two, absolutely."

When you're mad, you're a completely different baby. Your little face turns tomato red, your hands ball up into fists and you kick and punch like a maniac. We're starting to discover what calms you down quickly. On that note, we'll be installing a ceiling fan in your room very, very soon, and your nightly bath has become a welcome ritual - as soon as your clothes come off you're instantly quiet and happy. When you're in a particularly horrendous mood, I start googling vasectomies and swear up and down you'll be an only child. But eventually you smile again or give us one of your crazy giggles and that's all forgotten.

You weigh 13 pounds, 12 ounces. You're wearing 3-6 month clothes and are starting to bust out of your size 1 diapers.You're still rocking the full head of hair, and it's getting lighter. You've got rolls on your legs and dimply elbows, a big fat belly and a skinny bum.

We love every single inch of you and can't wait to see what month four brings.

My little goblin turned one month old on Saturday.

On Friday, we had a monumental milestone - Eli's first real smiles, ones not caused by gas or muscle spasms. When he grinned, I got super excited and turned completely ridiculous. "Smile for Mama! Do you have any more smiiiiiiiles?" I cooed at him. Total baby talk, I admit it - add it to the list of things I swore I'd never do. But there goes my voice, about three octaves higher than normal. "Do you have more little smiiiiiiiiiiiles?" And he did.




I marked it down on his page of "firsts" in his baby book. December 9, 2011 - first smiles. It was exciting, a highlight of my weekend, for sure, along with decorating the Christmas tree.

On Sunday, we took Eli's first "big car ride" and drove to New Brunswick to see my family for the day. It was about a two hour drive each way and he was excellent. He slept most of the way there and back and only woke up to eat. Breastfeeding in a deserted high school parking lot in Oxford - add that to the ever-growing list of things I thought I'd never do.

I can't believe that Eli's a month old. He's getting great at holding his head up, but he absolutely despises tummy time - after a few minutes he blats and lets me know it's time to flip him back over. He likes swatting at the animals in his "gym", responds to sounds and voices, and focuses on faces. He has fussy spells every couple of days and I lose my mind and feel like dropping him off on the doorstep of a big house in a nice neighbourhood. And then he'll turn around and be the cuddliest, sweetest baby - now with smiles - and I completely melt.

As for me, I feel like a spongy, soft version of myself. People have been very kind in saying I look like I didn't have a baby a month ago, but I definitely don't feel like the old me. I feel like I'm made of mashed potatoes. My stomach is soft...things in general are soft. I'm looking forward to my six-week doctor's appointment and praying I get the green light to exercise. 

Sometimes it feels like we'll never, ever, ever sleep through the night again. Some days I would sell my soul to go to bed at 10 and wake up at 8 and not so much as stir in between. Many times I've caught my reflection in the mirror and realized there was spit-up on my shirt or poop remnants on my jeans from Eli's latest blowout. (The other night, he had an explosive crap when I was feeding him, and some of it got on my pyjama pants, and I just grabbed a baby wipe and WIPED OFF THE POOP AND WENT BACK TO BED IN THE SAME PJ'S - that's how tired I was at the time.)

I'm still getting used to the fact that I'm a mom. I'm adjusting to needing to change my clothes twice a day, not because I've peed my pants, but because someone else has peed them for me. Or, you know, wiping off the visible poop and carrying on. I always feel like I don't quite have my shit together...like I'm operating at about 75%, all the time. And I hate knowing that it's going to be like that for a while. I hate not feeling completely in control.

In spite of all the grossness - the caked-on poop, the crying jags (both Eli's and mine), unexpectedly spraying milk halfway across the room and NOT out of my nose, and generally feeling like tired ass - it's been one of the most rewarding months of my life. One of the hardest, for sure, but as unglamourous and awkward and downright heinous as it can be I love being a mom. I love seeing my little guy growing and developing and being adorable. I like looking in the rearview mirror to see him snoozing away in the back seat. I like his sweet baby smell. I'm trying to make the most of this time when he's so little, when we can cuddle and hang out all day, because I know it'll fly by and I'll wish it back, very, very soon.

Before you have a baby, you hear all sorts of advice from friends, family and complete strangers. People love to offer up their insights on what your life will be like after the little one arrives. Three and a half weeks in, I've found some of their advice to be really helpful, while some of their predictions were way off.

What we heard: "Enjoy your sleep now, because you won't be getting any after the baby comes!"
The truth? I sleep about the same amount now as I did for the entire third trimester, so I don't feel as zombiefied as people made me believe I'd be. For the last three months I was pregnant I'd wake up at 3:00 a.m. every day to make one of my 29357206 daily bathroom trips, but then I'd lay there, tossing and turning until it was time to get up. I got used to operating on reduced sleep every day. Eli typically wakes up twice during the night to eat, which takes about 45 minutes each time, so it's not all that different.

What we heard: "You won't be able to  ___________________ (insert name of activity/outing/personal hygiene here) for a while so get it in before the baby's born!" 
The truth? We've been out to restaurants three times with Eli and he's been zero trouble. We've taken him shopping, avoiding crowded malls and heading to smaller stores instead so he has minimal people coughing and sneezing and shoving around him. Peter and I have both left the house to do our own things and get a break from the baby while the other stays home with Eli. (FYI - it's not called "babysitting" if it's your kid. I hate when women say their husband "babysat" their child so they could go out!) Having a newborn by no means makes you housebound for months. He's actually pretty portable. We also get out for a walk every day for about an hour. The fresh air and exercise is great for both of us. I've had a shower every day, I've worn makeup every day, I've gotten out of my pyjamas every day. Maybe it's just to put on a t-shirt and a pair of leggings but it counts!

What we heard: "Sleep when the baby sleeps!" 
The truth? This is amazing advice and I would repeat it to any new mom. I try to have a nap every day when Eli is asleep and it makes me feel a hundred times better. Even if I can't fall asleep I'll lie down and rest, read, or listen to music and it's so nice to have that little refresher every afternoon.

What we heard: "Let your house get dirty - it doesn't matter." 
The truth? This is kind of true. Things tend to get put off more, but we try hard not to let the house get messy. it's definitely harder to clean when I'm home alone with Eli. When he goes to sleep, I'll give myself a set amount of time each day - half an hour or 45 minutes - and do what I can in that time frame. It's enough time to unload the dishwasher, put laundry in and Swiffer or dust a few rooms; basically to do damage control so things look presentable enough, which is the goal. This isn't the time for a white-glove test, but if everything looks relatively neat and tidy I'm happy. There are times when you just can't clean, and that's OK. Last week Eli had a growth spurt and wanted to eat constantly. When he wasn't eating, he was being fussy or getting his diaper changed. I was frustrated because I wasn't getting anything done and had to try to remember that looking after the baby is my "job" right now and takes priority over everything else.

What we heard: "You won't eat a homecooked meal for a while so fill up your freezer before the baby's born and collect all the takeout menus you can!" 
The truth? Our eating habits haven't changed at all. Eli goes in his swing and we make dinner and eat it together, and I have my breakfast and lunch while he naps or hangs out nearby. I was freaked out because I didn't follow the pregnancy books' advice to cook and freeze a month's worth of casseroles and soups, but we haven't starved to death just yet. That said, we did get some meals and snacks from family and friends which were a huge help. The saddest meal I've had since he was born was eating cereal for lunch one day, which, if you know me, is not actually that sad at all. I love me some cereal any time of day. Other quick, easy and fairly nutritious meals we've been eating are things like frozen veggie pizzas, soups, stirfry, chicken breasts or tilapia fillets, and sandwiches toasted in the panini press.

Overall having a newborn has been easier in a lot of ways than I was expecting. Eli takes a lot of time and is a lot of work but the first two weeks were the hardest, for sure. Now we're getting better at deciphering his fussy spells, knowing how he likes to be cuddled and anticipating what he needs before he gets completely pissed off. We're a lot quicker at things like getting him changed and dressed and getting out the door with him. The first time we tried to take him somewhere it took us about an hour and a half to leave the house - we're a lot more efficient now. I'm also fine with feeding him in the car and changing him just about anywhere.

We're still noob parents for sure, but one of the best pieces of advice we got is "it gets easier". So far, that seems to be the truth!

The Breastfeeding Nazis are alive and well in Halifax. At our local children's hospital, "breast is best" posters and literature plaster the halls and the rooms. Public health prenatal classes are heavy on the benefits of breastfeeding as well as the supposed disadvantages of feeding babies formula.  During one class we actually had the nurse tell us the story of one poor mother who spent the first six weeks of her baby's life trying in vain to breastfeed unsuccessfully to the point that she was awake pretty much 24/7, in tears all the time, exhausted and wiped out. "But she didn't give up!" the nurse crowed, like it was a good thing. I decided right then that I would try breastfeeding, but if it didn't work out, I'd have no problem switching to formula. No way were my child and I going to suffer for weeks, too stubborn to switch to formula or even to supplement with it. I know breastfeeding is hard for a lot of women and impossible for many and I made a vow to not get upset if it wasn't the right choice for us.

To be honest (and this is going to make me sound like the shittiest parent alive), I was mostly interested in breastfeeding because it's free. That's right. It wasn't about the bonding experience, the antibodies and nutrition Eli would be getting from my milk, the baby weight I'd supposedly lose much more quickly if I nursed - I was excited about the prospect of not having an addition to our grocery bill. Feel free to call child services.

I anticipated nursing to be painful, torturous, and unsuccessful. I fully expected us to be feeding our baby formula just a few short days in. In a pleasant (albeit slightly painful) turn of events, Eli took to it right away and as soon as my milk "came in" he's been nursing exclusively.

Add breastfeeding to the list of Things I Never Thought I'd Do In A Million Years. I have never pictured myself with a baby hanging off my boob. I've never really even thought they were functional, and I always thought the act itself was kind of gross and too hippie for me.

Breastfeeding isn't a picnic. It hurts - especially in the beginning as you're getting the hang of it. Even once you've got the technique down it still isn't super fun to have a small human attempting to suck all of your innards out through your nips. Add a few leaks and occasionally feeling like a dairy cow into the mix and that more or less sums it up.

But it's not terrible either. I like having some quiet time with Eli (you can't scream if your mouth's full of boob, after all.) He makes the most adorable faces when he's eating and I want to take pictures of him but, yanno, TIT. So I don't. I suppose I could edit over them with, like, Wal-Mart smiley faces, but I have better things to do with my 10 minutes of free time per day than crop my boobs out of photos.

This is definitely not meant to be a "breast is best" post. Whatever works for you is best. If your baby is thriving on formula, give 'er! A good formula experience is definitely better than a bad breast experience. If breastfeeding is a success, that's great too. If breastfeeding is a success but you hate doing it, there's no shame in switching to bottles. The most important thing is that baby's getting enough to eat and you are maintaining some level of sanity getting him there. I've already told Eli that as soon as he gets teeth, he can kiss these mammaries goodbye. (Yeah, I know, if they have a proper latch they don't bite you - this is not a chance I'm willing to take).

Seven paragraphs talking about my boobs. Internet, you're welcome. Here are some non-tata related pictures of the boy from today to make up for all the boob talk.  I'm sorry. Next Monday won't be so awkward.





*In an effort to not get too-too babylicious up in hurr, I'm going to be dedicating Monday's posts from now on to all things mamahood. Surely once a week isn't too much to brag about my handsome honey badger and wax poetic on being a new mama. And if it is, don't come around on Mondays! Piece of cake!

Eli, our little honey badger, how are you two weeks old already? The past 14 days have flown by.

We love you more every day, little man. (Or maybe not so little. Porky McChubberson tipped the scales at 8lb 1oz today - our beefcake is really bulking up.)

I promised myself months ago that when the baby was born, this wouldn't become a full-on mommy blog, and it's not going to. But the past week has been devoted to welcoming our little man, getting used to one another, and falling more and more in love with Eli. I really have nothing else to talk about this week. Next week, maybe.

I cannot believe Eli is a week old already. The past seven days have flown by. It feels like we do very little all day - nap, feed, change diapers, take paparazzi shots of the baby - and bam! it's bedtime. In spite of feeling like I'm doing nothing, time is flying. I feel like he's already noticeably bigger and that his looks are changing.

A lot of this whole mamahood thing is easier than I'd expected. Getting up three times a night to feed Eli hasn't been the hellish ordeal I'd assumed it would be, probably because weeks of pregnancy insomnia prepared me for sleepless nights. We wake up every three hours, feed him and go back to sleep, and it ain't no thang. When I'm feeding him I go online on my iPod, check emails and Twitter, play music for us and chat to Pete and before I know it we're all done.

I had never changed a diaper in my life, never dressed a baby...in fact, I had barely held a baby. I'd been worried it would feel unnatural and awkward, but it hasn't. I'm grateful for that. 

There are a few things that are harder than I'd anticipated. Recovery, for one. I seem to have skipped the chapter on mama's physical recovery from birth, and went straight from labour and delivery to caring for baby. I was totally unprepared for how I'd feel. Stitches blow - I'll leave it at that. I'm so anxious to get back to normal, going to the gym, taking long walks with the baby, and the recovery period is frustrating and feels long, even though it's only been a week so far and I could have a while longer before I'm feeling 100%.


I'm excited about feeling better, but mostly I'm excited about all the things we'll be able to do over the next few weeks. Taking him for fall walks in the park. Getting him a Christmas stocking and a special ornament for the tree. Picking out a picture for our Christmas card. His first smiles and giggles. Shopping for new outfits for him - now that we know he's a boy we don't need to stick to gender-neutral stuff anymore. Filling in the blanks in his baby book.

Here's our little beefcake's one week photo - he brushed his hair just for the Internet. He's a very dapper little gentleman.

Eli Alexander surprised us all when he arrived right on his due date - November 10 at 3:35 a.m. He weighed 7lb, 3.5oz, and was 20 inches long. He's got TONS of dark hair...we're talking baby toupee style. He has huge grey eyes, big hands and the most perfect teeny toes.



He might have his dad's hair and eyes but he has mama's appreciation for deadlines and efficiency. At 6:00 we were eating poutine at home. At 7:00 my water broke at the hospital. The first time I was checked for dilation I was 3cm...the next time they checked me I was a 10cm. And so on and so forth, all night long. Mr. Eli isn't a big time waster. When there's a job to do, he gets it done.


We've been home a few days now and are still getting into the routine of having another little man around the house, but everyone's been adjusting well. Eli is a champion eater and sleeper, which makes things easier. Peter has been absolutely perfect and even Rory is pretty happy with his new baby brother.


I'll get into more details on the birth story in another post, but for now I'll say that even with being tired and sore and having multiple moments every day where I stop and think "I can't believe I'm actually (insert name of baby-related task here)", this is the happiest I've ever been. I love being a mom and I absolutely adore Eli. People had told me about the kind of instant, intense, unconditional love you feel when you have a baby of your own, but it's something I can't explain. I feel lucky and so, so blessed.