I love our mornings. Sometimes we cuddle in bed so that I can sneak in an extra hour of sleep and it works. Somedays it doesn't as Preston gives me a certain brown-eyed-look that communicates he's ready to start his day and it's not up for negotiation. Whether we get up at 7 a.m. or 10 a.m. (don't judge me!) he really hams it up in the morning flashing those pearly
whites gums. All the while I've yet to brush my pearly whites. Bet he's wishing I would at least swish with some Listerine. Once he's down for his morning nap I have about 30 minutes to pump, wash face, brush grill, and do something with this hair of mine.
|Looks like I got Dad's feet.|
He's grasping things now. It's the small things that I enjoy most. After hearing phrases like brain damage, learning disabilities, and oxygen deprivation as risks and side effects of his heart defect and surgery, it's a HUGE celebration for us when he hits his milestones on time.
We visited daddy at work this week. Preston really turned on the charm (like seriously) for the ladies in Mr. Gherkin's office. They commented on "how normal" he looks, and normal he is ... a normal, healthy baby. We want him to have as much of a sense of normalcy in his life as any other child. So back to Daddy, we went to lunch afterwards. Preston fell asleep. I'm pretty sure he thinks we're boring. Didn't we all go through the my-parents-are-boring phase? But at 3 months old?
The weather has been perfect for enjoying an afternoon stroll and we do just that. We stroll. Most days we hit up our neighborhood park. It's nice out and the birds are chirping. There's a pretty awesome breeze these days and the horrendous Houston humidity hasn't taken over just yet.
Some days, there's a group of teens still dressed in their school uniforms that gather at the park after school. As I walk past their car I catch a drift of what I'm fairly certainly smells like pot, and I immediately start thinking about the elaborate stories I will tell P one day in hopes I can deter him from these types of activities.
Then I see a father and a young boy, maybe seven or eight years old, playing pitch and this makes me smile. I want to be the team mom someday. Guess we'll have to wait and see if Preston's heart function will allow him to play more strenuous sports. If not maybe he'll let me be his caddy. I'll be his number one fan no matter what.
We've been busy taking care of his meyer lemon tree that Betsy gave him. Thanks, Betsy! This guy is going in the ground in a couple of weeks. Because it's so young it is recommended that we pick off the blossoms so they don't turn into meyer lemons for the first couple of years and the tree can use its energy to establish a good root system instead of making fruit. (Enjoy that lesson?) So we picked the blossoms. Have you smelled meyer lemon blossoms before? Ah-maz-ing.
|Preston watching Ellen.|
Most days we tune into Ellen. I mostly watch just to see Ellen dance at the beginning of her show and laugh at all the older ladies in the audience bust a move. I know, I know. I'm well on my way to becoming that old lady with bad dance skills. I get that.
|Like my Alfalfa look alike hair?|
Then the sun sets, baths are had, and bedtime comes. Another day has passed. I got to spend another day with this sweet little family of mine. I realize that tomorrow may not be guaranteed so I give my Sweet P a big kiss, tell my hubby that I love him, and go to sleep thankful that I had the opportunity to enjoy today!