Frederick Roger at Four Months

Wee Freddie is four months (and one week) old and quite obviously our third child.  Not only is he the doted-upon baby (the favorite brother of his older two, who are at each other’s throats constantly but happy to shower kisses on Freddie, who has yet to steal their toys or ruin their LEGO creations), but also he is bathed infrequently, carted all over the place without regard for his schedule, and happy to be held by anyone who has arms and a desire (probably because I am constantly putting him down to deal with something else) to strengthen their biceps. 

 

 

It would be really easy for me to wallow in guilt about my mothering of Freddie.  I don’t play with him very often because I am busier now than I have ever been, even when I discount the fact that I have a baby.  I don’t read bright, colorful baby books to him; instead, he sits with me as I read big-kid books to his big-kid brothers.  At four months, we started Charles and Jamie on rice cereal, quickly transitioning to pizza crusts, avocados, and bananas.  I’m inclined to keep Freddie exclusively breast-fed for another month or even two because it is far more convenient for me.

 

 

But I don’t wallow in guilt.  Who has time?  If I wanted to feel guilty about something, I would stick to the massive quantities of chocolate I consume or the way I get frustrated with my older children every single morning when they stall and disobey and fight and lose their shoes and refuse to brush their teeth.  I would feel guilty about not spending enough time at work or not keeping my house clean.  I don’t have time for that guilt, either.

 

 

Freddie is happy.  He is healthy, except for a rather nasty bout with eczema (he’s my sensitive-skin guy – maybe he’ll be pale like me instead of tan like his dad and brothers).  He weighs a whopping 16 pounds, 10 ounces, which is a little big larger than Jamie was (15 pounds, 8 ounces) at this age, and MUCH smaller than Charles was (NINETEEN POUNDS).  A goodly-sized kid who gives my back pain every day. 

 

 

What’s more is that I am happy.  Or rather, I’m content, which isn’t exactly the same thing, but it’s close.  I don’t get enough sleep, but I’m not a total zombie.  I have too many things going on in my life to worry about what I don’t have.  I’m fully aware that Freddie is my last baby, so even though I have to put him down a lot to take care of other children and other tasks, I often hold him just a little bit longer than necessary.

 

 

And he rewards me with winning smiles and sweet, milky breath.