Phoebe is now two months old (deep sigh). The time with her seems to be passing much faster than it did with Henry...perhaps because she is a calmer baby; perhaps because with two, I haven't had so much time to just sit and stare at her.
Phoebe, as you can probably tell from the pictures, is a chunk. It's funny because here in small-town Italy, it's really considered super fantastic if babies are fat. I cannot walk ten steps without someone coming up to me and grabbing a roll of fat on her arm and leg and saying, "Dio la benedica" (God bless her). Then they ask me, "Latte suo?" (Your milk?) and when I say that it's all from me, they exclaim "Oh! Signora!", and then seem like they get teary from the emotion. It's almost as if I have reached the level of respect that the Virgin Mary gets in this very Catholic country.
What's kind of sad is that with Henry, I did everything the same. I nursed him. He was not a small baby, but he was not fat either. Nobody ever said "Dio lo benedica" or praised me for my milk capacity. I feel kind of sorry for him...also because everybody praises me and Phoebe right in front of him. Let's just say it doesn't really help with the issues of jealousy for the new addition to the family.
Since I am nursing yet again, I would like to announce the return of nursing poetry. It's not the work of Keats or Dickenson, but hopefully it will bring a few smiles.
2 comments:
I think Phoebe looks so much like you in the picture where she is smiling. Just precious! (of course you are not chunky in anyway like that sweet baby, though!)
Henry is growing so fast! Keep the pictures and updates coming
Praise for your milk. Classic...
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