When the doctor warned us that the arrival of Ian would be the first coming of Sasquatch into our lives, I began to form pictures in my head of our baby dwarfing all other creatures in the Cartwright household . That's why it is so pleasantly surprising to marvel at just how tiny Ian really is. I had forgotten those days of picking Elliott up with a single hand, a task that today requires a small tractor or very loving grandparents who numb themselves to pain in the name of spoiling.
Our tiny boy has spent most of his time in big sleep. Yesterday was one long slumber, save for the periodic awakening for a meal or two and a fresh diaper to house his unending urge to fill them. It is a cruel irony that one sign of a baby's clean bill of health is the accumulation of dirty diapers. Grandpa Almond was holding Ian yesterday when he felt the vibration in his hand that might as well trigger an alarm system that shouts with a loud annoying voice "Change Diaper - Change Diaper" until the task is complete. I immediately got Ian in a fresh diaper, sat down with him in my lap for a brief snuggle, and within seconds the alarm had been activated again. After this change, he gave me a little sigh of thanks, then escaped once again to dreamland.
Grandma and grandpa Almond came up yesterday. Grandpa went to the annual "Train Day" celebration in town with Elliott and I. Grandma helped do some chores around the house and tend to mama and Ian. They took Elliott home with them last night to give us a bit of a break from double duty. Elliott has had a cold or something like it that has kept him congested for what seems like a year now. It has made it difficult for him to sleep the last week or so. Is it coincidence that his sleep troubles begin just as a partner arrives who needs frequent attention during the night, or is it just another display of God's sense of humor?
Katie is beginning to feel a little better. She is able to get up and about more, but is still in some pain. Yet, through it all, she continues to hold the little man close and keep up with his many needs (she does kindly allow me to change a diaper or two). I am reminded again of the special bond that is created so early between mother and child. I often kid Elliott about being a mama's boy, to which he usually responds by hugging her all the tighter. But it is inevitable really that we all end up being a mama's boy or girl. Oh, I've had my fun turning Elliott into the "football player" he claims to be and I take great pride in making him a Notre Dame football fanatic (if they don't play better than they did last night at Boston College he may be the only one left in this house), but I see so much of Elliott's tender heart coming from those moments he spends with mom. And that is quite alright. We can only root for more of the same in Ian.