Meet Elmer Russel Murphy, spring of 1907. Awwwwww. Look at those ‘dorable fat cheeks! Ten and a half pounds at birth on February 12, as close as the doctor could tell with his portable scales of the day. That means he was born at home, honey! He looks like if you poke him with a hat pin, he’d fly around the room.
Fast forward 69 years to the day to his grandson, Randy, 2 months, 22 days.
He cries, he whimpers. He wiggles and fusses. So what’s a mommy to do? Feed him, of course. Then pat his back firmly for a belch, change the diaper, and hope to heaven he falls asleep for another two hours.
What you see here is a 2 month old who, from day one, breastfed every hour during my wake time and every two hours throughout the night. “Feed him cereal at night. He’ll sleep right through.” Not.
You haven’t seen a mommy dash so fast from bed to crib as I did when I rolled over, fully rested for the first time in months. I immediately thought the worst. Ohm’god!! What I found was a 16 lb. 8 oz two month old sucking mercilessly on his thumb.
Whew. whew. whew. I hauled him out of there and held him close. He was suddenly awake and very, very hungry.
My computer wallpaper at work is a photo of this now grown man’s 2 year old son, my grandson, smiling with cheerios in his mouth. He had just eaten a full meal for cryin’ out loud and now had even more food in his mouth! Were there more Cheerios in his little fists waiting their turn? Some things just go on and on and on.
It’s a gene thing. I love it.