This is the chubby baby I left at home last week…
This is the baby I came home to…
I don’t know about you, but I could tell immediately that she’d thinned out. Oh sure, she probably grew longer, too, but? She had a neck.
Who are you and where is your back fat?! I thought as I ran my hands around her svelte rib cage.
My frozen breastmilk stash wasn’t overflowing when I left last week. It was *just enough* to get her by. And Scott, being the prepare-for-the-end-of-the-world kind of guy he is, wanted to be sure he didn’t use all of it. So she ate a lot more solids while I was gone than she has been. Solids like fruits and vegetables, and things with not even a fraction of the fat content in my could-pass-for-melted-ice-cream breastmilk.
The upside was some of her diapers fit a little better around her thighs, but the result was still unacceptable.
No. I like my babies fat. Let her get too thin, and, before I know it, she’ll be crawling, which we all know leads to pulling up, then walking, then my head exploding as I chase 2 kids who spin in opposite directions.
She wants to crawl. Oh, how she wants to crawl, but I put my boob in her mouth as many times as she wanted this week, and I think I successfully put a couple rolls back on her… just enough to keep her down… for now.
(This is the part where you should hide your ovaries. Her chubby cuteness is going to jump out the screen and try to invade them, FYI.)
That black mark is not a bug on your screen. I think there’s a scratch on my phone lens.