8 weeks: let the kicking commence

For some reason, I have been obsessed with cooking. It could be my new creative outlet, it could be boredom, it could be the fact that I am always thinking about food. When I was pregnant I barely ate, except maybe during the last few weeks. Now that I'm breastfeeding and not put-off by a lot of food, I find myself watching the Food Network for hours upon end and getting recipes online. In the past several weeks I have made all the of the following from scratch:

lasagna
meatloaf
chicken pot pie
pumpkin roll
devil's food cookies
peanut butter cookies with chocolate chips
beef stew
parmesan encrusted chicken

Don't you wish your kitchen was hot like mine? I can't stop. I know you burn a lot more calories when you're breastfeeding, but at the rate I'm going I'm pretty sure I'm taking in more than I'm burning. Not a good situation. Then again, I'm developing better cooking skills and keeping myself busy. And you can't really shake a finger at all the home cooking. Think of all the preservatives and other scary shit we're avoiding!

Also, it has become quite pleasant to always have cookies around. Once you get used to it, it totally sucks when the cookies run out.

Sasha is doing great. She's spending more time on her playmat thingy. It has a bunch of dangling animals and it's quite colorful. She kicks her little legs like crazy when she's on it, tossing the animals around and squealing a bunch. She's building the muscles she'll need for rolling over and crawling. She can put herself on her side for a few moments, but thankfully she hasn't figured out how to heave her buddha-bellied self over her arm. I'm loving that I can still put her anywhere and she stays there. Not for long.

When she's alert and happy she likes to make eye contact and sometimes she smiles if you get her going. She still adores her bouncy chair. I swear the most peaceful look washes over her when she realizes she's back in it. I try not to feel offended when she's sick of my lap, which happens pretty quickly. Sniff. In her defense, lately she's been happier to just chill in my lap, but for the most part the princess loves her throne, and that's that.

She's outgrowing clothes! I find this amazing. It also stresses me out a bit because I want to make sure everything gets worn before it's too small. See, much like adult clothing, the sizes vary by brand. My friend Steph gave me a pair of jeans that were labeled 6 Months, but her five month old daughter never fit into them. I kept them for several weeks without putting them on Sasha because they looked so big. Imagine my surprise when I decided to put them on her and practically had to use pliers to get the zipper up. Yet they were too long! WTF? I was so excited about her wearing those jeans, her very first pair, so the fact that she can't wear them breaks my heart a little. So I quickly took a picture and then freed my baby from those supermodel jeans. Six months. Right. Givin' my baby a muffin top and shit.



















And now, a gratuitous picture of yummy baby feet, picked clean of toe jam (oh yes, the babies get it, and hand jam, too!).















Okay just one more. Because OMG precious.
















There is nothing cuter than a naked baby. Nothing. Except maybe when she's naked sitting on daddy's arm with her butt crack on display, headed to the bath.

Head over heels.