six weeks old

Six weeks gone, and Jake is getting used to life on the outside. Jake celebrated quietly from his swing, the federal government celebrated by sending us the Social Security card, and I celebrated by going to a bachelorette party with some old friends. Dave, he celebrated by being Jake's sole care giver for seven hours, and it reportedly went very well despite the dirty diapers and projectile vomiting.

It was nice to get out and be myself again. We all met at an Italian restaurant on Passyunk Avenue, had a great dinner, and then landed ourselves at an all male revue. This was my first time at anything like this, and I was totally blown away by the whole thing. It was like an In Sync concert for grown ups- the pretty boys, matching outfits, gimmicky props, flashy lights, and choreographed dance routines were fascinating. It is hard not to imagine all the prep work that goes into all this. Getting the guys together to come up with dance moves that everyone agrees on, remixing songs about Tangueray and booty, going to the gym and the tanning salon each day, drawing up your next tattoo, buying hair gel, getting waxed, inventing an identity for yourself like the Italian Stallion or Hot Chocolate (both of whom were there last night), making a postal workers uniform with Velcro seams that can be torn off at the right moment, and I can't imagine that body glitter puts itself in those hard to reach places... And these boys were once six weeks old. What on earth do their mothers think?

It seems that Jake hasn't changed much in the past six weeks, but he has. He's managed to get even longer and he can almost be called chubby. Almost. He has grown out of his tiniest newborn clothes and will be wearing the 0 to 3 month outfits any day now. His back, shoulder, and leg hair has fallen out, and the long baby hair on his head is thinning while his big boy hair is growing in. Jake has learned that there is more to life than screaming, and so he coos, squeaks, gurgles, and makes a shakey little giggly noise. I am hoping that his laugh sounds like that when he finds that in a few weeks. His eyes are still grey, and are trying to decide whether to be brown or hazel. I swear I can see a little dimple in his chin when the light hits it right. Jake's belly button is healed, but we still don't know whether it will be an innie or an outie. He plays with his crib toys, loves to look at himself in the mirror, and reaches for the cats now and then. When he is feeling especially giddy or you find his tickle spots Jake will smile at you. I won't tell you where those spots are, you'll have fun finding them on your own. Jake is continually discovering his arms, and loves to stretch them and shake his fists. He has his mother's penchant for making funny faces when he is trying to express himself and is guilty of talking in his sleep. He likes all types of music, television, and eating, and wakes up with the birds at daybreak. Pictures from a few weeks ago show how much he is changing, and I regret the days that pass when I don't take a picture. All subsequent children will feel slighted when they see how many pictures of Jake there are. I'll have to make it a point to take their picture too. Or hide Jake's. Sometimes I feel like you can only have so many pictures in the swing or bath time shots, and as interesting as it is to me when he is sleeping, the pictures aren't that thrilling. I'll do better, for those of you who check the picture blog.

Six weeks past delivery means a trip to the obstetrician for a check up. All is well, and I can lift heavy things, run amok, and do pretty much whatever else I wish. No more excuses for not being able to do anything for myself. And my maternity leave is half up. Boo.