One month

Henry is one month old this week. He's growing like a weed--he's already 3 pounds more than he weighed when he was born and he's an inch taller, too. I think he's about to outgrow several of the 0 to 3 month sleepers, although the onesies still fit just fine. Which is good, sinceh still hasn't worn them all at least once.

I feel as if I can see the edge of the new Normal, although we're not quite there yet. I've ventured out to run errands on my own with mixed success. We've made it to most of our appointments on time, but I'm still hesitant to commit to anything before noon. We're still figuring out the sleeping and feeding things, although we hav the basics down. I'm still not sure what I'm supposed to be doing with him when he's not eating or sleeing, and I wory that I should be doing more, although I'm not sure what that would be. Clint's been amazing and is a great dad; it's sweet to watch the boys interact. Mostly, I still find myself looking at Henry, amazed that he's here, perfect, and ours.

Henry and Big Bear, made by my mom when I was a baby. I'm planning on doing comparison shots for the next few months with these two.

We introduced the pacifier last week. Henry likes it well enough, but he can't seem to keep it in his mouth for very long. He came up with this solution all by himself.

Henry makes the best sad and mad faces. I was trying to capture it at one point (and so far haven't succeeded) but this attempt--with the finger pointing at the slogan on his shirt--cracks me up.