Phoebe's first few days (in pictures!): part III (plus a figurative tale)

Okay; these pictures are all from my phone over the last 12 days or so. I only know that because Phoebe is twelve days old. I feel simultaneously like I'm taking too many pictures and not enough pictures. But mostly I'm just trying to survive. I think I'll feel a lot better after finals are over (this group project is killing me (figuratively)). 

Last night I broke out in hives! 

Apparently postpartum hives are a thing (I'm assuming my root cause is stress (see: group project, above)).

So that's been a fun little side effect, in addition to some pretty wild afterpains and some wicked engorgement and lack of sleep and...so forth. But all those things should be coming to an end soon (except, I suppose, for the lack of sleep). 

Anyway, I'm not sure how much dialogue I'll share regarding these photos that I snapped. Mostly I just think my children are adorable.

But I will tell you a quick story about Alexander. 

For whatever reason the boys were fighting over a Jedi robe before bed. Alexander wanted to wear it in the morning so that he could be a Jedi Master. Benjamin also wanted to wear it, presumably so that he could be a Jedi Master. 

"But if you wear the cape tomorrow then I can’t be the Jedi Master!" Alexander whined.

"Well, that will be too bad if I get to the cape first," Benjamin said, darting upstairs (presumably to hide the cape/robe).

"I want to KILL you!" Alexander fumed.

"Oh, Alexander!" I gasped. "That’s a pretty strong emotion you’re feeling. You are free to be angry or sad—and sometimes those angry and sad emotions feel very powerful—but surely you don’t want to kill your brother!!"

"FIGURE’tively, Mom!" he reassured me. "FIGURE’tively!"

All the grown ups in the room exchanged looks of disbelief. Did he just say what I thought he said? What was it that he said? 

"Figuratively?" I repeated.

"Figure. Tively," Alexander affirmed. 

And we lost it. Grandpa, Andrew, and I were all just cracking up (while trying to remain serious). How does this sweet little four-year-old baby (who just started talking intelligibly in June) know and use that word correctly?! It was comically shocking.

"Even so," I said, trying desperately to regain my composure. "We don't want to use such strong and hurtful words figuratively."

He really is a sweet little guy even if he uses colourful figurative language sometimes (while other times he wishes for "actulal" swords so he can "defense" himself against his older siblings). Here he is helping Phoebe maintain a good nursing position (look at those innocent blue eyes—who knew they were figuratively capable of so much!?):

And here he is, dressed as a knight, while holding our little Sleeping Beauty:

With that story out of the way, I suppose Sunday is as good as a place to start as any (since that's the order my pictures are in. Here's Rachel holding Phoebe on Sunday evening:

This was Phoebe's first Sunday dressing up for (Zoom) church. She wore the outfit we brought Zoë home from the hospital in.

My bedroom floor is a mess of baby paraphernalia and various textbooks. It's a good look.

The particular textbook on the floor in the background is called Disrupting Thinking, which is apt since Zoë is quite the little thinker.

These next few pictures aren't from Sunday; they're from November 17 (last Wednesday), but they do show how much Phoebe enjoys propping her head up with her fist. Miriam thought she was quite funny and tried to copy her.

Now back to Sunday. Here's Grandpa wrangling the boys during our little Sunday School/Primary lesson:

And here's Benjamin taking a turn holding her:

And Miriam having a turn:

And Rachel having a turn (Rachel likes to make Phoebe "talk" by opening and closing her mouth for her (and I don't blame her for this because it's kind of hilarious)):

Here's Rachel begging Miriam for a turn. Miriam is probably answering, "But I just got her!" because that's always what they say. We should have had quintuplets so everyone could get adequate holding time.

Phoebe does huge yawns that I always expect will disturb her, like make her feel startled or upset, but no matter how ginormous her yawn gets, she always gracefully, gently releases it, not the least bit perplexed.

Here's Zoë taking a turn:

But I think this picture of Alexander, Phoebe, and Zoë is my favourite shot from Sunday:

This face is just funny:

When Phoebe first came home from the hospital, Zoë and Alexander both grabbed a baby doll so they could "mimic" me. Zoë has really kept up with it. She loves to help take care of Phoebe and when she's not able to do that she often turns to her doll (when she's not, you know, absorbed in Minecraft).

Here's Zoë holding the twin babies (November 20):

We got a new bouncy chair with some gift card money and we're hoping Phoebe will learn to enjoy sitting there for stretches of time (especially after Grandpa leaves).

Here's that sleepy baby doing her mighty big yawns again:

I read an article today about nesting mammals versus carrying mammals and I'm sure I enjoyed it partially because of confirmation bias (since it fits in nicely to my parenting philosophy), but it seems to be true of Phoebe. She loves being held and cuddled. She does not enjoy being left to fend for herself (i.e. being put down ever). And that's mostly okay with me, though there are times I wish she would appreciate her "nest" a little more.

We're lucky if we can get five minutes out of her in her bassinet.

Anyway, she's finally decided her cluster feeding session is over and seems to be sleeping somewhat soundly (on my lap, of course), so I'm going to call that the end of this post (though I have a lot more pictures forthcoming).