Harry at Almost 22 Months

I love Harry's current age. Yeah, there are tantrums, but they are definitely made up for with the cuteness of the rest. I don't want to forget the things I love so much at this age:

• He sings. A lot. One day he wasn't ready for his nap at nap time but I was, so he hung out in his crib singing Old MacDonald and Baa Baa Black Sheep for a while before he fell asleep. He also knows Twinkle Twinkle and the ABCs well enough to sing alone, and many others to sing along with someone else, often coming in for the end of each phrase. He also enjoys humming to himself, which we sometimes hear from the backseat or over the monitor.
• His version of the ABCs used to have "Elmo Pee" in the middle. Now it has "Elbow P." It also ends with "Why, oh me" before moving into the "Now I know my ABCs" part, which itself ends with "Nex tie so so sing with me." The cuteness is beyond compare.
• He has memorized many of his favorite books and loves to "read" along.
  
• Because P and I only really drink water and soda, and he only drinks milk or water, he thinks most drinks are cokes (or diet cokes), including beer.
  
• He has a bit of a hitting problem, which he learned from a kid at daycare, which sucks. (That part is not a thing I love about this age -- the hitting or the mimicking of everything he sees or hears, whether good or bad.) We have been trying to be incredibly consistent when it comes to discipline, which seems to be the best strategy. Timeouts didn't work -- he thought they were fun and would shout "timeout!" and go sit in the corner, even when he hadn't been put in timeout. So instead we say "Hands are for hugging" and make him apologize to whomever he hit, which does seem to be working. (Note that his hits aren't hard, mostly just annoying, and are usually done for attention or in excitement, but we want to discourage it.) When we say to him, "What are hands for?" He responds with "huggin'" and goes and "hugs" the hittee. His version of hugs involves resting his head on the chest of the huggee and letting them hug him :)
• He is a real ham, always performing for his audience, once he is comfortable with them. He says "cheese" and flashed a goofy grin when a camera is pointed in his general direction (though he thinks a camera is in fact called a "cheese").
  
• When in a public place, he likes to greet everyone there, saying hi and often shaking hands. This makes restaurant dining easy -- we just have to be sure he's facing other tables so that he can work his charm and let them keep him occupied :) We did a park cleanup before Josie was born (Harry loves to pick up trash), and the mayor came to thank people for their service. He shook my hand and Ps, at which point Harry held his out, like "what, am I not good enough for you?" The mayor thought it was quite funny. When we were at a pool over the weekend, he said bye to everyone as we left, acting like the pope of chili town. He's a regular politician.
  
• He does, however, take a while to warm up to new people, at least some of the time. As a result, one of us occasionally has a toddler glued to the front of our legs while he surveys the crowd. If he gets really overwhelmed, he whimpers "up or down" -- we have tried explaining that he just wants up, but after months of "up or down," this is proving hard to break.
• When one of his daycare friends went on vacation, the teacher pointed to a plane and told all the kids to wave and say bye to her. For weeks now, every time we see a plane Harry has smiled and shouted "Bye Ally!!!" at the top of his lungs. The other kids have long forgotten, but not Harry. His teacher seriously regrets that one.
• When both kids are in the backseat, and Josie cries, Harry feels the need to point it out, just in case we can't hear her. "Josie cryin'" is a frequent refrain heard from the peanut gallery, usually said in a very sad voice. It makes me sad that it makes him sad to hear her cry, but I love that he feels that kind of sympathy for his sister and her sadness at the torment that is riding in the car to pick up her brother at daycare (having to do pick up during her witching hour is a disaster -- ugh). I usually ask Harry to sing her a song to make her feel better. He says ok, but then rejects every suggestion for what he should sing. It almost always ends with me asking him if he wants me to sing "Do-Re-Mi," and the answer is always yes. I have sung a lot of Do Re Mi lately.
• He loves to be helpful, especially in the yard. He is a fan of watering the flowers and of mowing the lawn (with the mower off, though P sees big potential in this one down the road). He has his own watering can.

Monday Morning Odds and Ends :)

I lack the time or energy to post a full post, but have some things I feel I need to put out there so as not to forget them.

1. Ten years ago today, P and I went on our first date. We were seated in the worst seat in the restaurant -- right next to the door of the kitchen. If nothing else had been, that itself would have been memorable. That said, I don't think either one of us could possibly have anticipated where it would lead. But here we are, ten years later. I love you, P!
2. When Harry was still coughing last Monday and hadn't eaten more than a couple of real meals in weeks, P took him to the doctor. Despite not having had a fever (except one day the week before) and not having had any disruptions to his sleep, and not acting in pain (aside from the not eating), it turned out he had an ear infection. So he went on antibiotics.
3. Since then, the cough has gone away.
4. Yesterday, though, was the first day he really seemed to be back to normal. For breakfast, he ate two bowls of cheerios and a cup of pineapple. For lunch, a grilled cheese and grapes. For snack, graham crackers, a few goldfish, and part of a peppermint patty (yeah, he had candy for a snack -- sue me). And dinner was a veggie dog, kidney beans, more pineapple, and mandarin oranges. For weeks, all he's been willing to eat is goldfish, graham crackers, and fruits and veggies. I made a chicken noodle casserole, and he picked out the mushrooms and broccoli and ate them and left the rest behind. I realize a lot of parents would be thrilled if this were their problem with their kids' eating habits, but it's disconcerting when your child only consumes 100-200 calories a day -- they can only eat so much broccoli. Also, the usual suggestions don't work for combatting this problem, since you can't really hide chicken in a blueberry or grains in a mushroom.
5. Harry's language has really exploded over the past month or so. He finally says both mama and dada, along with a ton of other new words, many of which are quite weird. For example, he can name the "sea star" on his high chair (and also likes to point out all the "bubbles"). And he's quite fond of "backhoes." He says "cheese!" for the camera. He asks for "books" in general and some by name (or parts thereof). And he knows certain parts of books by sight or by anticipation -- he knows what nine dogs do on a moonlit night, and when the gorilla gets caught in the bed by Mrs. Zookeeper, he says "uh-oh" then he does a funny laugh (a heh-heh) in response to the gorilla's grin on the next page (he also snores when the mouse wishes the gorilla goodnight at the end). He says "bu-bye" and waves even if no one is going anywhere. And he gets very frustrated when he wants to go "ow-sye" but it's cold and he isn't wearing a coat. He decided that one of the cats at my in-laws will be "kitty" and the other "cat." (Also called kitty was the dead possum at the far end of our street -- I hope someone calls animal control. If it's still there tomorrow, I'm calling, whether P thinks it's our responsibility or not (we live at the start of a dead end-- the "kitty" is in the dead end part, in front of someone else's house).) I think we can put to rest the overly-cautious-pedi's concerns regarding speech delay.
6. I wonder whether the language explosition is purely developmental or whether moving him to a different daycare two days a week played a role. I think the other kids play with/talk to him more at his new place, and I think he engages in more of the group activities there rather than wandering off to play with trucks. That, however, is another post entirely.
7. Last night during Harry's bath, Harry and P were singing Old MacDonald. Harry was actually singing the E-I-E-I-O part, as well as naming the occasional animal (his choice is pretty much always duck) and saying the sound of most of the animals Old MacDonald had on that farm. Of course, he didn't want to stop singing for bedtime, but it was pretty darn adorable. He has sang before, but it's pretty much been limited to the "quack, quack, quack" part of Six Little Ducks.
8. Twenty-seven weeks tomorrow. That seems crazy. I can't believe it's March.

At My Spit's End

I can't take it anymore. I feel like I spend half my day handing Harry his cup, watching him spit, saying no, wrestling the cup from his hands, and wiping milk off everything in sight. It's gotten to where he asks for his cup, then starts raspberrying before I even hand it to him. It has been MONTHS now. And I have no idea what to do anymore.

When I have asked folks for advice, they always tell me to say no and take it away, which is what we've been doing with no success. Or they say that it means he isn't really thirsty, except that he is begging for his cup and cries and cries when it is taken away. Or that he is testing us to be sure we'll be consistent in our response, except that we have been consistent for months and he hasn't stopped. (And I feel like the harder we try (including prohibiting raspberries when not drinking), the worse it gets (fifteen minutes of non-stop raspberries).) Or that he'll outgrow it -- when? when he's 40? Months, people, it's been months. Someone must have experience dealing with this successfully after the aforementioned efforts have failed. Please help!

Honestly, I feel like we are reliving the biting-while-nursing issue (which never got resolved), but in a way that is thankfully far less painful to me physically but which is bringing up some old emotional wounds.

Fifteen Months, Medically

Harry's fifteen month appointment was today. He is certainly a big kid -- 32 inches and 26 pounds 2 ounces with a 48 cm noggin. This puts him around the 75th percentile across the board, though I think he is actually longer than 32 inches -- for some reason, the measuring made him very angry and I think the nurse just wanted to get it over with.

Our doctor's daughter was born on Harry's first birthday, so she was on leave for his 12 month checkup. She wasn't expected back until January, but because the baby came early, her leave began early, so she came back early, so our appointment with the doctor we saw in September was rescheduled to one with her, which we were happy about. Then yesterday, we got a call that she was going to be out for the day, so we got rescheduled with some other random doctor. Let me just say that had we met with her when interviewing doctors, we would likely have chosen a different practice. I like our pedi because she's pretty laid-back and non-alarmist. Not so this woman.

So, though it bothers me a little, I have tried not to make a big deal about the fact that while Harry has a few words (and uses them a lot), none of them is mama or dada. And it's not because he has come up with some other thing to call us. He doesn't call either of us anything. He know both that the dog is dog and that his name is Buddy (or budzz, as it sounds coming out of Harry's mouth), but neither of us is worthy of a name. Again, it makes me a little sad, but I haven't worried much. Not so this doctor.

Harry has now been officially diagnosed as having a mild speech delay. Not just in their files, but in the forms for daycare. All because he only has seven words at 15 months and because none of them is mama or dada. She also made me fill out the M-CHAT, which seemed a bit aggressive, especially given my answers to her other questions (like that Harry is very affectionate, he gives hugs and kisses, he plays peekaboo, he pushes cars on the floor and says "vroom vroom" (rather than just banging them or spinning the wheels), that while he doesn't imitate words/word-sounds, he does imitate funny sounds). She also wanted to put him on antibiotics because he had some fluid in his ears, even though he is just getting over a cold and hasn't had a fever and while they were a tinge pink they were not at all red. I got her to agree to wait and see -- if he seems to be in pain or develops a fever, we'll call immediately; if not, we'll bring him back in two weeks for a checkup.

Does she seem very aggressive to anyone else? Or am I in denial?

Halloween: Franken-Monkey

Harry was supposed to be Bam-Bam for Halloween. But we live in New England, and I was worried that it would be too cold to have him out in a cloth diaper and little else in late October. So we decided that he would be a monkey, wearing a generic costume we found at BRU. Of course, it ended up being unseasonably warm, and he was sweating in his monkey suit.

Regardless, my dad and stepmother and Ps mom and her husband came over that evening to see him all dressed up and stayed at our house distributing candy while we took Harry around the neighborhood. We figured he didn't need to collect any candy, but we loaded him up in his wagon along with a tiny pail that could fit 6 or so candies in it and brought him around the neighborhood anyway, mainly just to wish folks a Happy Halloween. Despite the fact that it was Saturday and the weather was warm, there were very few kids out, so a lot of people insisted we take candy even if Harry wasn't going to eat it. And some of the other kids in the neighborhood thought it would be cute to share their candy with him, so kids put candy in the wagon with him. Despite our efforts, I think we ended the evening with more candy in our house than we started with.

On an unrelated note, as you can see from the photo, Harry has gotten pretty stable on his feet. But he still does the Franken-walk for stability. He'll grow out of that, right?

Becoming Picky

If Harry could eat the same thing every day, I'm pretty sure this is what his menu would look like:

Breakfast: Yogurt, english muffin, fruit. A soy sausage every other day.

Lunch: Grilled cheese on wheat bread, fruit.

Dinner: Pasta with red sauce, peas, fruit.

I actually think he would gladly eat just yogurt and fruit (with no major preference regarding what fruit -- berries, pineapple, melon, banana, kiwi, peaches, pears, plums -- he loves them all, and more). I've started mixing veggie purees into his morning yogurt to try to get some more veggies into him. And he does eat other food (I try not to indulge the pickiness, which often results in very little dinner), but it's often a struggle.

For tomorrow's lunch at day care, I packed a veggie dog, some cheese cubes, some wax beans (which he won't eat for us, but maybe he will for her), some watermelon, and half a mini-bagel (which I may trade for an english muffin at the last minute, as he prefers the muffin, but it seems like a lot of food). Miss M provides lunch for the kids, but we pack Harry's -- they are all very picky toddlers, so they tend to do a lot of chicken nuggets and fries, pizza, grilled cheese, etc., and I'd rather avoid him eating that much fried food (and avoid him developing a taste for it).

He used to be such a great and adventurous eater (he tried parsnips and used to love beets). Are those days gone, or just on hiatus?

ETA: I spoke too soon. This morning, he rejected fruit too, only eating yogurt. The rest, as usual, was tossed to the floor, making Buddy very happy.

Table Food = Messy

First pizza, al fresco at Uno's (we forgot a bib, so Uno's offered us a disposable apron, which was essentially a trash bag, cut to cover Harry's whole torso):

Macaroni with sweet potato mush sauce:

Blueberry pancakes:

Pasta with red sauce (I can't look at this picture without laughing):

Anniversary, Apathy, Exhaustion: Catching Up

So I have had a bunch of posts that I've meant to, well, post, but haven't had time. So, in order to catch up, I'm just going to do a bulleted list of stuff, starting with the good and moving to the less good:

• P and I celebrated our four year anniversary last week (the 20th). Four years is the fruit & flowers (traditional) or appliances (modern) anniversary. So P sent me flowers and gave me a new air conditioner for our room (we had given ours to Harry). I sent him an edible arrangement (with the anniversary sampler added on) and got him a second guitar for Guitar Hero. Very romantic :) On Saturday, my SIL babysat, and P and I enjoyed a fantastic dinner out, then went to see Harry Potter at the IMAX. It was an awesome night -- wonderful meal, great movie, better company. Happy anniversary, P!
• Harry has begun table food in earnest. We have ordered him food off the kids menu at a couple of restaurants. It has been quite messy but fun. It seems he will eat anything with tomato sauce. And he loves blueberry pancakes.
• I find myself somewhat busy at work. I've been having a lot of trouble motivating lately (see next bullet), though, which isn't good. I have a lot more to say on this, but it's not really a bullet list kind of thing.
• Lately (like, since June), I've been feeling, well, not myself. I guess that's the best way to describe it. I've been feeling tired and run down and generally apathetic. I just don't care about much of anything. Most of the time, whatever I'm doing, I'd rather be doing something else. And beyond apathy, I am definitely feeling some degree of antipathy when it comes to work. I have waves of feeling differently, but they are infrequent and unpredictable. And I have been eating too much, in a very mindless way, and not healthy food, which makes me feel more run down and generally bad about myself. I had an appointment with my doctor last week (for a physical) and brought it up with her. She did a bunch of bloodwork to rule out any physical causes, and it all came back normal. Her best guess (and mine, I suppose) is depression. She recommended an anti-depressant. But the last time I tried one (in college), I had a very bad reaction to it (severe anxiety -- severe enough to land me in health services, where they doped me up on a boatload of sedatives). So I'm reluctant.
• My tiredness/run down-ness is not being helped by the fact that Harry has gone from being a great sleeper to being a mediocre (at best) one. After sleeping through the night since 10 weeks, we have now had several weeks of wake-ups. Some wake-ups are quick, others not so much. And he pulls himself to standing and will wail on and on, so we can't really just let him cry it out, though we may try some modified form of it tonight in the hope of finding something, anything, that might help. For an example of what we've been dealing with, on Tuesday I was working until about 1am. I then couldn't sleep. I finally fell asleep at 2 or so Within 5 minutes, Harry woke up screaming. When I went in there, his elbow was stuck in the bars of the crib (his actual elbow -- his hand and body were still inside, but his elbow was outside). I unstuck it and rubbed his back for a bit. He lifted his head up (which is generally an indication that he's about to sit, then stand), so I picked him up to settle him, but he was like a sack of potatoes. I put him back down a minute later. He moved around a little and fell back to sleep. This was one of the better nights. But I then had trouble getting back to sleep. So last night I decided to go to bed early-ish (10:30 or so), since I'd only slept 3 hours the night before. But Harry didn't like that plan. He woke up at 10:45, screaming. We let it go for a few minutes, but it got worse rather than better. P went in to rock him, but Harry continued to scream/cry for an hour or more, preventing me from sleeping. He finally calmed down, but wasn't sleepy. At 12:15, I took over, and after 15 minutes he was asleep. But he woke up when I tried to leave. By that point I was too tired to deal, so I turned off the monitor so I could sleep and let P take over again. Harry didn't fall asleep until 1:15. During the time he was awake, we tried Motrin and Orajel, in case it was teething. P gave him a bottle, in case it was hunger. He had a few farts, but not enough for me to think it was gas. He's pooped a bunch lately, so it's not constipation (though the poops have been wetter than usual, but not so wet as to make me worry about a bug). P thinks it's developmental, relating to an approaching language development, since he tends to spend his settled-but-not-sleepy time "talking." (He says "duck" and "book" (and other things, but mainly those two) over and over, pointing at any number of things, most of which are neither ducks nor books.) I'm nearing a breaking point.

And that's all I have to say about those things for now. Advice and/or assvice on any of those topics is welcome.

What A Difference Two Weeks Makes

In the past two weeks, Harry has:

• mastered crawling (though on hands, one knee and the other foot)
  
• mastered getting himself seated
  
• mastered pulling up on stuff
  
• begun cruising
• (as a result of those four items, he now requires rocking to sleep at least 75% of the time or he wails and wails until we go in and find him sitting up in his crib crying, holding his arms out to be picked back up)
• (also as a result of those four items, he now requires singing in order to have his diaper changed or he either crawls off or cries if you try to prevent the crawling through some form of baby-wrangling)
• mastered walking while holding on to hands (purposeful, quick walking as opposed to thudding, haphazard steps, which he started a while back). He is also able to sit back down and to let go with one hand to bend over and pick up a toy (or piece of lint or old food).
  
• been to his second foreign country -- he has now been to more non-U.S. countries than his aunt and uncle combined
• pulled his first all-nighter (well, up from 11:30 on -- he did sleep 3.5 hours to start the night)
• begun nursing strike number 2 (which I am now fairly confident is stemming from the return of my monthly cycle. Each strike has begun in the week and a half leading up to a (one-day) period, with the last one ending the day the period began/occurred. If that's the case again, I can live with it. My supply seems to nosedive during that week+ (or I stop responding to the pump) and it takes ages to get a letdown then, so I think he's impatient. At least the biting is less bad this time. Mainly he just gives up. Though he gave me the worst bite yet last week, bad enough that I ached for days afterward.)
• been on his first boat ride
• gone swimming in a lake
• learned how to throw tennis balls for the dog
• taken his first bath in the big tub
• begun waving

I am exhausted. (The fact that the aforementioned all-nighter was two nights ago, and last night we drove all night on our way back from vacation so as to avoid ten hours in the car with him awake is partly to blame for that.)

This unwilling-to-go-down-easily-or-have-a-diaper-change thing ends at some point, right?

Yet Another Breastfeeding Post

I feel like I keep proclaiming the end of breastfeeding, turning myself into the girl who cried wean, but I think this really is it. Now that he has top teeth, the biting has become unbearable. He bites all the time, yanking on the breast with his teeth as he pulls away, and the pain is excruciating. Some of the time he won't latch on at all -- as the breast approaches his mouth, he clamps down, biting before even thinking of doing anything else. And it breaks me heart. And the pain. I love him more than I could ever express, but sometimes it's hard to like him. If he isn't biting, he is scratching or punching me in the face or pulling my hair. I don't want to end up resenting my son, who I love with all my heart.

Truth be told, I'm often scared he is eventually going to rip the nipple right off, even though various sources claim that isn't possible, or just isn't going to happen. Most of those same sources also claim that any number of techniques will keep the baby from biting more than once and/or that babies outgrow the biting after a few das or at most a few weeks. Many techniques and many months later, I have lost all faith in such words of wisdom. And I'm out of ideas.

I am also eventually going to run out of tears. I spend far too large a percentage of my day crying over this. I feel very rejected. When I was encountering schedule problems at work, P made a comment about how it's important that I get enough time with Harry "because he's nursing." Not because I'm his mom and babies need time with their moms, but because he's nursing. And what about now? Does he not need me anymore? I fear that in Ps eyes, he doesn't. At least no more than he needs anyone else.

Plus, I already feel like I don't get enough time with him, being at work during the week. Nursing was always our time, time that was just for us. Now we will be giving up this time too, either giving up the time spent feeding to pump or the time I could otherwise play with him to pumping. And I hate pumping. But I am also not willing to switch to formula when I'm still perfectly capable of giving him breastmilk (please know that I am not judging anyone else who does so -- it's just not where I'm at).

I guess that last note is part of the issue for me. I was prepared to accept that I might not be able to breastfeed. That I might not produce enough milk. That he might not be able to figure it all out. That we could have encountered issues from day one. I was also prepared to accept that he would one day be a big boy and be ready to stop nursing. I just didn't expect that it would happen so soon, before he hit ten months. Before he has even figured out crawling, or called me mama. I'm just not ready, but I'm learning that it's not up to me.

Last Weekend (Catching Up)

Last weekend was the first nice weekend in a long while (like, five months). And we tried to cram many months worth of nice weekend activities into a single weekend. (But I also had to work, so we had to cram all those activities into small windows of time not occupied by me working.)

On Saturday, we took Harry to the park. He checked out the swings (a big hit, as you can see):

And the slide:


And some assorted other fun activities (he was not so sure about the springy animals or the seesaw -- they didn't do anything cool and we wouldn't let him eat them):


Then on Sunday, we took him to his first Red Sox game. So as to avoid posting pictures of P, here is a picture of Harry before the game (the only pregame photo in which Harry isn't bent in half -- he was really fixated on his feet):

It was hard to pay attention to the game, and our seats were in the shade where it was chilly, and Harry didn't get an afternoon nap, as the people behind us kept smiling and waving at him every time he would try to put his head down and you can't really tell people to please stop being nice to your kid, but the game was fairly fun anyway. And even if it wasn't it was Harry's first game. Of many. (We have tickets to eight (I think) Sunday afternoon home games this season.) We need to remember to dress more appropriately for the weather where our seats are (we have those seats for three more games) rather than the weather in general. And we need to avoid making plans with Ps cousin for after the game, as it left me more concerned than I otherwise would have been about Harry's lack of an afternoon nap.

All in all, last weekend was fun. Hopefully, there will be a post about this weekend before next weekend rolls around.

Common Bonds*: Ticks, Harry (But Less), Screwing Up At Work

As to the first, Buddy started acting funny ten days ago. On Friday, he was playing like usual in the yard. On Saturday, he started limping. By Sunday morning, he wouldn't put any weight on his left front paw. By Sunday night, he didn't even get up to play or hang out with us. Monday morning, we called the vet. It wasn't a sprain, like we thought. It was Lyme. Screw you ticks. Poor boy :( He is now on antibiotics for a month. Three pills a day. That have to be taken with food. And can't be taken with cheese. And our dog only eats his dog food when he feels like it. Unless it's sprinkled with cheese. It's been a bit of a challenge. On the positive side, the antibiotics seem to be working. By the end of last week, he was seeming himself again. Though he has no understanding regarding why he isn't allowed to play like usual.

As to the second, Harry has been doing a bit better with nursing, though the biting hasn't stopped completely. I took Nicky's suggestion (made by a few other as well) and tried Tylenol about an hour before bed, and it seems to be helping. The only two nights he has bitten me more than once have been the ones we forgot the Tylenol. And the biting has slowed down in general. Even better, he has gone back to nursing again -- the partial strike is over (though he does seem to nurse for shorter periods now). He struggled with the bottle at daycare last week too, so I'm trying not to take it personally. It does appear to be teething related.

As for screwing things up at work, I'm still feeling stressed about it. Probably fueled by the fact that I'm feeling somewhat anxious about work in general. But the senior associate stepped in front of the bus rather than throwing me under (especially admirable given that he is up for partner this year). So he may think less of me but I seem to have otherwise emerged from the giant fuck-up largely unscathed (though I may just be unaware of the realities of my situation). But it still sucks.

Much to share about the parts of the weekend I didn't spend working, but I'll save that for tomorrow and Wednesday.

* Any other Jeopardy fans out there?

Sleeping In

Out of the last eleven weekend days, P has slept in on nine of them. Four or five of those, he slept until 9. Most of the rest were until 7:30 or 8. Two he only slept until Harry was changed and fed. (Harry wakes up around 6:20 most days. Man, I wish it were 7.) I have slept in (enough to require P to give him a bottle) four times since Harry was born, one of those times being in the past few weeks.

On these weekend mornings, I find myself full of a jumble of emotions and am never quite sure what to make of it. I feel a resentment toward P for just assuming that I will be the one to get up every frickin Saturday and Sunday. But it's not really about that. It's not like I don't want to be spending that time with Harry, feeding him and playing with him, just the two of us. Because I do. Who would want to miss this?


It's more that I wish that I didn't feel an underlying sense of guilt for wanting to sleep in. Because, seriously, I'd love to get a little extra sleep. I miss sleeping past 7. Really, really miss it. And I'm not good at going to bed early, so I'm tired all the time. But I get so much less time with Harry now that I'm back at work, and I hate the idea of giving any of that up, even for sleep. And he already gets so many meals provided by someone who isn't me each week. And he's growing so much and doing so many new things and getting ready to pop more teeth and starting to push up on his hands and knees and discovering new ways to play with toys and I'd hate to miss any of it.

For a while I thought that maybe my resentment toward P was really me wanting him to want to spend that time with Harry (in a very stereotypical woman-wanting-man-to-want-something kinda way) and to be willing to sacrifice time for himself to do so. But I think maybe I'm just jealous of his ability to take space for himself when he needs it. To go play video-games with friends on a Saturday. To take a motorcycle safety class for a weekend. To get a little extra sleep. I probably need to do more of that myself. But I'm not really there yet.

Something for me to ponder.

Wordless Wednesday: Open Mouth, Insert...

No Fanfare

Harry got his first two teeth last week (Sunday and Thursday). I thought there would be more fanfare.

I also thought they'd be easier to photograph but they're not. This was the best I could do:

The Requisite Solids Post

So, we started Harry on solids when he was 5 months old-ish. After a bit of trial and error, we discovered that he's more into lunch than breakfast. It turns out the with only 90-120 minutes between waking and a desperate need for a first nap (and a need to nurse upon waking for the day) it was tough to find a time late enough that he was hungry again but early enough that he wasn't too tired. So for a month now he's been having lunch.

The boy seems to like solids. I've read that most babies take 5-9 tries to decide whether they like a food or not, but Harry seems rather opinionated right off the bat.

Rice cereal? Good. Oatmeal? Also good. Butternut squash? Yummy. Sweet potatoes? Fantastic.
Green peas? Perfectly tasty. (He actually likes them far more than this photo indicates.) Carrots? Awesomest food ever. Green beans? Um, not so much. Apparently, the smell is gross:
And so is the taste:

And so is the aftertaste:
These were from an early try. By now, the mere smell of them approaching his face causes him to purse his lips and shake his head. If I mix them in a 1:2 ratio with sweet potatoes, he'll eat them. As the ratio approaches 1:1, the eating becomes more begrudging, turning to refusal. I'll keep offering them every now and again (if for no other reason than because watching his reaction is hysterical) but they may be a no-go.

(And, yes, we own more than one bib. But somehow almost all the firsts ended up being in the same one. Easy enough, since we can rinse and reuse it. Big fan of the bib.)

Now, questions, for anyone who has any info (we'll ask these questions of the pedi as well).

• When should we start giving him a second meal? A third?
  
• And how much should he be eating at each meal (and/or overall), as far as solids go? Right now, he gets 2 tablespoons of cereal (mixed with 5-6 tablespoons of breastmilk), followed by 4 tablespoons of vegetable (about 2 ounces). (He'll have his first fruit tomorrow -- I think I'll start with bananas.) I'm pretty sure he'd gladly eat more if offered more. With carrots, he tends to get more, since he bangs on the tray of his high chair when they run out. (I hope this isn't a sign that he prefers the jarred food -- carrots are the only veggie I bought rather than made, just because I couldn't find nitrate-free carrots at the grocery store.)
  
• When can/should we introduce finger foods?
• Should he be having water post-meal? We haven't given him any, since most of our friends didn't this early, but the Super Baby Foods book seems to think it's essential.
  

Wee Hours

It's very quiet at this hour. The clock ticking over my shoulder. The boiler humming. The pipes clanging as they work to keep the house warm.

I feel the soft in and out of your breathing, the warmth of your breath against my collarbone, the rise and fall of your chest against mine. You've made it clear that this is the only place you're sleeping tonight. And as much as I'd like to be sleeping too, I love that you find comfort in me, your mama.

Four Month Check-Up

Harry saw the pediatrician yesterday for his four-month well-baby visit. He is now 13 lbs 5 oz (25th percentile) and 25.5 inches (75th percentile) with a 16.5 inch head (50th percentile). He's still long and lean (though he looks much chunkier than before) but staying on his same percentiles across the board.

He was on his best behavior for Dr. E. He was very smiley, giggly, and active, kicking up a storm (P suggested he might have been enjoying the crinkly sound of the paper, which was most likely the case). He spent a lot of time playing with a toy, showing her how he manipulates toys with his hands and mouth. He also did tummy-time and showed how good he is at leaning on his elbows. He wasn't a fan of the shots but did much better with them than last time -- he mainly seemed shocked by the first one, then semi-indifferent to the second.

She gave us the go-ahead to start rice cereal, but I think we're going to hold off another month. I'm in no big rush to start solids, plus I don't want to have to deal with rice cereal when we're in Mexico. And he's still a peanut, and solids don't add much calorie-wise at this point. She said to start sometime before our next appointment in March, which I'd want to do anyway since I want him to start solids before he starts daycare, and I'd be more comfortable waiting a bit longer. So wait we will.

Wordless Wednesday: Failed Efforts at a Monthiversary Photo with a Comparison Animal

I Think He Reads This Blog

Mr, No Naps took two naps yesterday, the first on me (right after I posted my last post), the second in his swing, for a total of nearly 4 hours of naps. He napped again this morning when I put him in the swing so I could take a shower. (Ah, showers, how little I appreciated them before Harry. I will never take them for granted again). And this is him now:


(That is Harry, asleep in the wrap. Sorry for the quality -- taken with the camera phone, and I was due for my "new every two" two years ago but actually like my phone with its super long battery life.)

I'll take what I can get for naps at this point. He's been so much more pleasant!