9 months

In the time it takes to gestate a human being, my little one has morphed from a tiny baby into a pre-toddler. He is crawling everywhere, pulling up on everything (including the wall, which to me indicates that his balance is good enough that he doesn't need furniture), and has developed this toddler-like giggle that might as well be a fluorescent light over his head that says "I'M DOING SOMETHING NAUGHTY!!!!"

He eats whatever is put in front of him, including beans, excepting grapes, and he eats a lot of it. I was reading another blog recently wherein a mother posted a photo of her toddler's dinner, and Reid has easily twice that.

Sleep could be better but could be worse. The thing that bothers me the most about sleeping is that people always ask about it. "Oh! A baby! How does he sleep?" I don't know. How do YOU sleep?

He's got two teeth and may be getting another one. I thought I saw a flash of white in there the other day. It's like Jaws lurking below the surface. Although not quite as scary. But a little scary.

He's starting to show a fun personality and a strong will. He seems to enjoy making us laugh. He does not enjoy having toys (or remotes, or cell phones, or the cat's ears, or my wallet) taken away from him, or sitting still when he could be on the move. This includes activities such as diaper changes and car rides.

He is busy, busy, busy, but even when he's playing independently, he looks at me frequently to make sure I'm still here. Sometimes he crawls up on my lap, puts his thumb in his mouth, and puts his head on my shoulder. How I manage to function after such an event is beyond me, what with being a giant pile of goo and all.

Happy 9 month birthday to my little boy...now if you'll excuse me, I need to go refill his high chair tray...again.

There's no accounting for taste

Beans make this child cry. Unless they are hidden in a quesadilla with cheddar and mashed avocado, he wants no part of them. Beans! These are fairly innocuous, no? Beans are generally a vehicle for their accompaniments: cheese. Sour cream. Cheese. Avocado. Cheese. Therefore the taste of beans is neither offensive nor delicious. In my opinion, anyway. This opinion is not shared by my offspring.

My offspring who, by the way, is currently going to town on oatmeal mixed with prunes and plain yogurt.

???

Okay.

Ode to Sarah

Sitting in a little corner of a little office, on the phone.
Full of compassion and knowledge.
Understanding and reassurance.
Her voice is like music to my ears.
She has yet to call CPS on me.

"Nurse triage line, please? Hi Sarah. It's me again. So..."

• ...he ate some drywall.
• ...I accidentally fed him honey.
• ...the diaper rash is bleeding.
• ...he fell off the bed.

Dear, sweet Nurse Sarah. Never leave me.

Quotes from Scrubs

You may remember from my stream of consciousness a few weeks (months?) back in which I discussed relationship anthology. In that same vein, Joel and I can have an entire conversation using quotes from Scrubs, I think. We call poops "trouts" because Dr. Cox tells his son that he's enjoyed waking up every morning to a fresh brown trout in his Huggies. We read the Eric Carle Alphabet Book and when we get to E for Eagle, we both say "Eeeeeeeaaaaaagle!"

Surely there are more (because that would be a short and rather nonsensical conversation) but the one that has stuck with me this week - as Reid has been crawling everywhere and pulling up on everything and grabbing electrical cords, remotes, and cell phones galore, so that I finally had to strategically place baby containment devices throughout the house - is this:

"No, Mom. Playpen/Baby Cage is not like potato/potahto."

in a week

1st cold
2nd tooth
3 hours of sleep a night for Mama
4th round-trip flight

Crawling. Actual forward movement.

Pulling up. On furniture, on the crib, on me.

That's about all. That's enough, though, don't you think?

I need a nap.

NO! Not the fresh air!

Cabin fever's got me. Got me bad. Lately I've been thinking maybe I was too cautious this winter by not taking Reid out more. He's a Wisconsin kid...he should get used to the cold, right? So today, with highs in the upper 30s, I put him in his snowsuit and his shades and off we went. First of all, people need to shovel their flingin' flangin' sidewalks. Assuming the residents are not elderly or infirm, I hope they were all feeling horribly guilty sitting in their houses watching me try to maneuver the stroller through their half-melted, slushy junk.

Second of all...worst.idea.ever.

About 5 blocks from home, Reid started to cry. About 4 blocks from home, he started to scream. And he did not stop until we got inside and I nursed him. He's been asleep for about half an hour...I think that was the first time in a LONG time he's really cried himself to sleep (side-note: if that is what CIO [cry-it-out] requires, I am very glad we've stood firm in our decision not to participate).

I guess I will try this outing again in about 20 or 30 degrees. Oops.

It's He-eeeeeere

It's little. It's white. It's painful.

It's.... a tooth.

Run for your liiiiiiiiives!

I will not be running for my life. I will not be going anywhere. Because I'm not sure if it's the teething or just the nature of a 7-month-old but the little guy cries like I'm going to war if I so much as get up to get a glass of water.

Luckily there is no place I'd rather be.