4 Months of Mommy Bootcamp

Let me clarify to save those looking for fitness advice/comments, the "bootcamp" I refer to is not the kind that yields toned thighs or rids the arms from wing-like triceps.  It is four months on intense training that leaves a mommy with lilac bags under her eyes but a goofy smile on her face because she cherishes this spit up machine that has been molding her into the parent he wants the last four months.

New outfit courtesy of Pop and Gramma Ducky - a necessity since the green chile stew hit him like it hit me

 

As a Valentine's treat, my husband and I took our son and my parents (official baby sitters) to Santa Fe for a quick jaunt around the square and big eating in the big city.  It was tasty and beautiful.  And fascinating to me - the people watching and price tag gaping are always a sure thing.  He took his first real bottle - a bitter sweet moment for me. 

With much much help from my husbands and Stephen Ross' grandparents, I briefly ventured into the real world doing relief work a few days in Texas.  Ah how I missed penning pasture broodmares for uterine lavages and wrangling shelter animals for spays.  They entire time I had my phone on super loud and checked incessantly for any news on my little bug.  I did my best to not harass his generous caregivers, but my best probably averaged 10 texts per hour.  I missed my boys terribly, and this experience only reinforced how blessed I am to have the choice to stay home with them.

That 'tude - must feel like a big man in that mustache shirt.