Chub and pie (not related, though one might think otherwise)

First of all, I have an 18-pound baby. He is not even four months old yet, and he is 18 pounds and 26.5 inches long. As in, over 90th percentile for a four-month-old, an age that he is still eight days away from attaining. He is solidly in size 6-12 month clothing, and you guys, we own so much clothing for this child. His entire dresser is stuffed with 6-12 month clothing. The whole thing. I mean, the drawers barely open, they're crammed so full. And we paid for almost none of it; we have been so plied with lovely, generous gifts and hand-me-downs. I'm pretty sure this kid could wear a different outfit every single day for the first year of his life. And that seems to be my goal--he has a few outfits that I love and use regularly, but for the most part I try to make sure all the different items get a turn. Yes, I do care about fairness to inanimate objects, why do you ask?

Secondly, we had dinner with friends this weekend, and for it I made a lemon meringue pie. I used this recipe, except with milk instead of water, and I improved upon the last one by making my own crust this time (this one), and it turned out delicious. I always thought of lemon meringue as a fancy pie, but it's really not, and it's also one of the only non-chocolate pies that I like, and I think it will be one of my go-to desserts in the future, because yum. And also, it's not as greasy and unhealthy as some desserts. And the lemon filling is so tasty, and it looks so satisfying. See?


It's actually the egg yolk that makes it so yellow, not the lemon. And doesn't it look even better with the meringue on top? I like the contrast of the yellow and the white, so I took a photo break before I sealed the meringue up to the crust line for baking.


And the finished product was nicely golden and still fluffy:


Thirdly, we've done a ton of yard work, and things are starting to look really kind of lovely around here. My hands are not so lovely--scratched to crap from some bushes I pruned a little too zealously, with a couple of nasty blisters on my fingers--but I suppose that's just a sacrifice you have to make, right? And I should mention right here that Torsten was able to get our sprinkler system functioning by replacing heads and digging up pipes and whatnot all by himself, and we should really all note how incredibly handy he is, because he did awesome work and would probably like everybody to know about it.

Lastly, Callum has become increasingly annoyed about the concept of nursing recently, and at this point I'm more or less exclusively pumping. I can maybe get him to nurse for a couple minutes once every day or two, but that's it. I suppose I should be glad he hasn't decided to do this with his bottle instead of with the boob, given that if he gave up the bottle he would starve, but it's a little annoying to be pumping all the time when I only produce a couple ml, if that, at every session. My plan is to keep trying the nursing until his four-month birthday. After that, if he's still screaming every time I try, I think I'll be done. I'll stop trying to nurse him, and just pump a couple times a day for as long as I pull a few ml, and I presume my supply will dwindle pretty quickly, and then this breastfeeding adventure will be over, and that will be fine too. But we'll hope it goes a little better with the next kid, shall we?

Speaking of the chunkster, here he is, for your viewing pleasure. Clearly, his refusal to nurse isn't hurting him in the slightest.

Note the thigh rolls.