enjoying the moments

Every night, I sneak into Little Dude's room after he has fallen asleep. To admire my creation. To watch his little being fill with air. To stroke his soft cheek. To check if he is hot or cold. To discover what position he has curled into. To see how far he has burrowed into the corner of the crib.

He looks so peaceful. Quiet. Resting. Re-energizing for the tomorrows filled with growing and learning. Am I that peaceful when I sleep? Or is my mind filled with things that clutter it even when I am resting?

Some nights, he is so irresistible that I am compelled to take him out of his crib, and hold him close. My arms reach out for him before I can stop them. I draw him into my chest, and his warmth covers me like a blanket. I stand in his room, rocking back and forth in the shadows cast by the hall light. I have even been known to take him into my room, sit in our chair, and fall asleep with him in my arms. Usually I can return him to his crib before Scout catches me. But sometimes he finds us there, and I just give him a dreamy smile and say, "I couldn't help it."

Everyone always says to enjoy these moments, that he will grow up too fast. Just so you know, I do. I am enjoying these moments. And when the day comes when I can't hold him as he sleeps, I will enjoy the memories.

he's got the moves

Every day, a new move. Of course we like to name them all...

so last week:

The kickstand - Lie on stomach, push up on hands, get ready to look like you're going to sit up, but not quite... swing one leg around to the side. Leg remains there propping the body up... like a kickstand.

The escape - Roll and roll and roll and almost making it out into the hall ('cause mom and dad didn't realize that they need to keep the door shut at all times), but get stuck on the door frame.

currently debuting:

Butt in the air sleeping - Cutest.Move.Ever. (disclaimer: on babies only). I've tried it. It is no longer comfortable as a sleeping position. Or an awake position, for that matter.

The drag - Not quite an army crawl, no grace, just power. On stomach, put both hands in front of body, and pull/drag body across the ground. Carpet. Tile. Whatever. Aim for anything electrical or shiny, ensuring identification of all childproofing yet to be completed.

The Base Jump - Lean out over the edge of anything (changing table, lap, chair, couch) and wriggle to the edge. Attempt to loosen the grip of those ever watchful parental hands. Drop body down as far as those hands will allow.

The Faceplant - Pop up on all fours, rock back and forth, and back and forth and -- SPLAT! faceplant! Follow with laughter.

come on down!

Mark your calendars, people! Today is "Bob Barker day" around these parts. That's right - we are getting our pet spayed! Can't you just hear him in his crisp suit, holding that ridiculously skinny mike with the old fashioned wire, showcase showdown winner and loser in the background, pointing at the camera saying "and remember to spay and neuter your pets." I can, and man, he looks good - sorry, Drew, I'm sure you're doing a fine job as host, but it's just not the same.

This morning, Scout hoisted all 146 lbs of the beast (that's right, we LIFT her) into the car, cause she can't won't jump in. She is there for her procedure today, and stays overnight. Which means... (drum roll, please)... that I have a dog free night! Which also means that I'll have to listen to Scout moan and groan about how he misses his girl.

Why are we only getting around to this now, when most people get their pets fixed around 6 months old? Well, Scout did some research on large breed dogs, and there is some evidence that if they are fixed at too young of an age, they may not reach their full size. Now, I'm not exactly sure how that falls in the "con" column when one has a dog that is expected to reach 170(ish) pounds. But I agreed to wait until she is 18 months old so that she can grow GROW GROW.

After experiencing 2 heats, I hit my limit. I informed Scout that I can take no more. Her first heat started the day I got home from the hospital with Lil Dude. Yep. Uh-huh. In case I needed something else to worry about in my house. The second one was about 6 weeks ago, and I used an entire Costco sized package of Swiffer Sweeper wet cloths in 2 weeks following her around our downstairs, along with creating makeshift barriers around the area rugs (thank goodness for strollers, pack n plays and changing tables).

And best of all, now I don't need to worry about teenage pregnancy! (For about 15 more years). Just need to survive my husband's temporary depression whilst his girlfriend is gone.

typical guy

Do you see the toys on the car seat? You must... they are brightly colored, and I put them in your lap so you have something to do when I plop you in the back of the car, or swing you over my arm like an Easter basket, or set you on the floor while I frantically search for the car keys before we leave the house.

So WHY WHY WHY do you insist on chewing the long strap used for tightening your buckle? Do you not see that it trails on the ground, and has touched every nasty, dirty surface that I have ever set your seat down upon? It catches the dog hair on the floor in our house (my nemesis), picks up germs from the parking lot, snags anything that anyone's shoe has left on the ground. I take great care to clean your toys, washing them after they drag on the ground, after you yak all over them, after the dog takes an interest and gives them a big lick. But you don't care about cleanliness, do you? Typical guy.

can i?

"Hey, mom! Can I launch myself off this changing table? How fast can you get over here after taking this picture? I would make a great paratrooper!"

editor's note: no babies were harmed in the taking of this picture, and he did NOT launch himself off the changing table, much to his disappointment...

snow day

LilDude and I are home today. But it's not snowing. In fact, it is 70 degrees and sunny! What a great snow day. Not so great is why we are home...

Day Care called me at work yesterday around 1pm - I had one hour to pick up the LilDude, because he had goopy eyes, and they thought it was pink eye. He was banished to quarantine in a high chair so he didn't contaminate the entire center by rolling his goop around the carpet, or smearing it on the other munchkins. I left work, and called the doctor's office to get an appointment, and instantly starting thinking how itchy my eyes were. I thought to myself (for the first time of many): don't touch your eyes!

Upon arrival at day care, I saw my little king ruling his dominion from his high chair. He was having a good ol' time in quarantine - just sitting on the edge of the play area, chatting away, issuing commands to his minions: "Antonio, pick up the red ball, now roll it to Tommy... you, over there, yeah you, Carlo, chew on that orange toy... Madison, you've been busy rolling all morning, take 5 - you deserve a nap." Okay, fine, it sounded like babbling, but I swear that is what he was saying. I swept him up (taking his crib sheet and blanket for phase one of decontamination) and took him home. He played on the floor of my bedroom, and was only allowed plastic toys that could be sanitized (seriously, I am good at decontamination).

As the hours ticked by, the goop multiplied. By the time we got the the doctor (7:15pm was the first appointment available - at the after hours clinic), his eyes were just GROSS. But he didn't care - he was smiling and happy as could be. Which is interesting, since his usual bedtime is 7:30. The doctor came in and commented on how happy he was, and noted that his eyes didn't look very pink... just goopy. A quick look in the ears, and she diagnosed him with a double ear infection, not pink eye. Phew... wait? what? A double ear infection? That doesn't sound good! He is one tough LilDude - he has been acting like his same old happy self, eats fine, sleeps fine, no temp, doesn't even rub his ears. How are we ever going to know if he is sick?

Off to play in the snow... um, I mean... SUNSHINE!

finally...

My mother recounts the story of how I used to wish for blue eyes with laughter in her deep brown eyes. When my little sister arrived, with her bright blue eyes, I was taken by them. I would gaze into the mirror and ask my mother when I would get blue eyes.

It only took thirty(+) years, but FINALLY... I got my blue eyes: