Thoughts on Starting Solids

Day two of solids went even better than yesterday. The feeding started a little later, so Matt happened to be coming home for lunch just as I was getting everything ready. He got to feed Patrick the first few spoonfuls. Patrick was happier eating because Daddy was there too, and he ate a lot more, everything I had fixed for him. By the end of the feeding, he was starting to figure out just how to eat off the spoon to get the maximum amount of food. He learns so fast!

I realized after rereading yesterday's post that it was a purely factual post. I didn't give any of my thoughts or feelings about the major milestone. I was still mostly excited about how well Patrick did, but after a full day I have started to evaluate exactly how I feel about the fact that my little boy has leaped over yet another mile marker. I think one of my dreams last night sums it up pretty well. I dreamed that Patrick was "all grown up," probably about four or five years old, and I was lamenting at how fast he'd grown up and that I missed him being a baby. That time had seemed to fly by. Of course, I was glad to wake up and find he was still my sweet little baby boy, but he's not the baby boy I met over four and half months ago. It dawned on me earlier that he's gained about eight pounds and grown over six inches since then. He really isn't the same tiny thing that was handed to me just after 4:17 p.m. on October 7 of last year. Every new milestone he encounters is just one more step of independence away from me. Yesterday for the first time since he was conceived, he was not completely dependent on me for his nutrition. That is an important step, but one away from me. How can I be so proud of him for his increasing independence yet want to draw him close to me again and have him helpless without me? I'm starting to understand this paradox of parenting, or at least that it can't really be understood.

There are several other benefits of starting solids that don't seem nearly as important all of a sudden, although I had been looking forward to them for a while. Now that Patrick is getting heavier food in his tummy, he will be less likely to spit up as often. I'm so tired of being afraid to move him after eating that it will be nice not treating him like a loaded gun. The other great benefit is that the solids will also start to control his acid reflux. They are the best cure for it. It won't be long before we will be able to start tapering off his reflux medications. If you've ever seen Patrick's face when he takes that medicine, you know he'll appreciate not having to take it any longer. We also won't have to elevate one end of his bed, another thing that helps control the reflux. That's not a big deal, but if he squirms too much while unswaddled in his bed, he slides down to the bottom. I'm ready for the last few steps to have him treated like a normal baby, which he certainly acts like he is now.

Regardless of my feelings about starting solids, we have already embarked on this adventure. There is no turning back now! Actually we already started on it about four and a half months ago, I suppose, and this is just one more leg of the journey.

Tagged!

Four jobs you have had in your life:
1. Salesperson at Mervyn's
2. High school math teacher (Geometry and Algebra II)
3. High school English teacher and Academic Decathlon coach
4. Stay-at-home mom

Four movies you would watch over and over:
1. Ever After
2. Serenity
3. Star Wars movies (especially the originals)
4. Classic Christmas movies (A Christmas Story, Elf, etc.) but only at Christmas

Four places you have lived:
1. Cincinnati, OH
2. Houston, TX
3. Lubbock, TX
4. Sugar Land, TX

Four TV shows you love to watch:
1. Medium
2. American Idol
3. Lost
4. Survivor

Four places you have been on vacation:
1. Stockton Springs, Maine
2. California
3. Louisiana and Mississippi
4. Big Spring, Texas

Four websites I visit daily:
1. my blog
2. Lauren's blogs
3. my e-mails
4. www.itsyourturn.com

Four of my favorite foods:
1. pizza
2. Mom's noodles
3. cheesecake
4. Matt's omelettes

Four places I would rather be right now:
1. none, if you can believe it

Four friends I am tagging that I think will respond:
I don't know who reads this that has a blog who hasn't already done it. If you fit that category, then I guess you're tagged.

Let the Fun Begin!

As I expected, I did indeed try feeding Patrick some rice cereal today. Every night we give Patrick a vitamin bottle of about 4-5 ounces. That is typically plenty for him, but last night he finished those five ounces and proceeded to eat a normal meal from me too. I figured if his appetite was truly that insatiable, he needed more than I could offer him. Sure enough, he was ready for solids. When I tried this morning, at first he just licked at the spoon with curiosity, uncertain of what this weird textured stuff was that I was putting in his mouth. Then he started licking at the cereal that had fallen around his mouth between spoonfuls. He was more and more eager each time I brought the spoon to his mouth. Finally toward the end, he started to figure out how to get the spoon in his mouth and eat it that way. It's still not smooth, obviously, but practice makes perfect. I think he's looking forward to trying again. He has seemed more satisfied and happy since. But feeding solids is definitely a time-consuming process and anything but neat. At least I expected that much. Here's an "after" picture of Patrick. I just couldn't resist.
In other news, yesterday continued to be a frustrating day even after the clawing incident I blogged about. He fussed most of the day (now that I think about it, he was probably hungry most of that time). When he wasn't fussing, he was sleeping. That means when bedtime came, he was anything but tired. It was awful making him stay in his room and cry until he fell asleep. What finally worked to help console him was some calm classical music playing in the background. Thank you, Mom, for suggesting that trick all that time ago. I'm glad I finally got a chance to try it and that it worked. 

Frustration and Excitement

What is it about that one church? It seems like every time we decide to try this one church, something happens to prevent us from going. The last time was one of the first outings for Patrick after the doctor allowed him to start going places, and we woke up to a deluge. We chose not to take him out in a downpour for one of his first outings. Today when my alarm went off, I absolutely could not get up. Not only was I exhausted, but I was also feeling lousy. I barely managed to pull myself out of bed when Patrick called for food about an hour later. Of course I'm mostly better now, just like the rain stopped the last time when church would have been partly over. It's frustrating because I was looking forward to going. It was such a beautiful morning too, sunshiny and just barely cool, like early spring. Instead I just slept through the gorgeous morning. I wonder if this is God's subtle way of hinting this isn't the church for us. I'd like to at least try it and find out for sure if that is the case, but the more this keeps happening, the less inclined I'm going to be to try it anymore.

The excitement of the weekend started on Friday night during our trip to Wal-Mart. The trip itself wasn't exactly fun--I HATE Wal-Mart--but one of our purchases was exciting. We got Patrick a high chair while we were there. I'm still not sure if he's ready for solids, but either way he'll need a high chair before long. We've started getting him acclimated to the chair. Today Matt and I ate lunch at our kitchen table (that's a first for us) and let Patrick sit in his high chair with us. He watched every bite we took and drooled the whole time. He's definitely showing interest in solid food. I don't think he hates his high chair either (despite what the picture shows); he likes being a big boy and sitting at the table to eat like his mommy and daddy.



Then frustration set in again shortly after we ate. Patrick suddenly noticed his budding teeth were hurting again, and he started screaming. Nothing I could do would calm him; the only thing that helped was having Daddy walk him around. Eventually Daddy got tired, so he was handed back over to me to scream again. He apparently got mad at me for letting him hurt. He reached his hand under the back of my arm and grabbed hard with his fingernails that I really should have cut in the last couple of days. It felt like having a cat's claw stuck in my skin, only there were five claws in me. I felt bad for screaming the way I did, but the surprise and shock caught me off guard. I'm also quite sure the clawing was deliberate. He never grabs with his fingernails like that. I don't know...maybe I'm reading that into it because I'm frustrated, but I still get the feeling that he knew exactly what he was doing. Fortunately the Tylenol kicked in a few minutes later, and now he is sleeping comfortably in his room. Why can't he just trust that I'm trying to make him feel better, not worse? 

Impromptu Photo Shoot

Yesterday Patrick and I tried an impromptu photo shoot. Here are a few of the best pictures.

He looks like he's posing in this picture, doesn't he? Notice the way he's holding on to his onesie with his right hand. He's started doing that more often. I think he likes having something to hold.

I like this picture because it looks like he's taking his own picture. Of course, it's just a coincidence, but we can still pretend he has the camera here.

What a funny look he has on his face. He's still cute, though!

Patrick loves his Gloworm. He can't go to sleep until it's sung to him.

I know the lighting is awful in this picture--I tried something and it didn't work so well--but I love the way his eyes stand out and the expression on his face. He somehow looks more mature, like he's comtemplating the mysteries of the universe or something.

Weekend Hodgepodge

I have been super-hormonal the past few days. At least, I hope that's what it is, because otherwise I'm turning into a world-class, um, female dog. I've been ready to cry at the drop of a hat. For example, as Matt was on his way home from work yesterday evening, he was in a good mood, and I almost cried I was so happy he was in a good mood. Then, sweet as Matt is, I was misinterpreting everything he said, or at least what he meant. I was getting upset with him for no reason. I hate myself when I'm like this! I might be wrong, but I think I'm typically someone who's easy to get along with and generally good-natured. That's why I hate these hormones so much; they turn me into someone I'm not.

Patrick started getting fussy again yesterday--when he wasn't eating, that is. In the matter of a few hours, he started cutting yet another tooth. That makes three that are ready to break through the gum any day now. No wonder he's been so fussy. My theory is that they are all going to appear in the matter of one day. He'll go from the young, toothless baby, to the pre-toddler with a full set of teeth in just a few hours. I think I'd rather have him suffer through the few hours of such intense pain than drag it out over weeks and weeks.

Other than the new tooth, not much else is happening around here. It's a lazy, rainy Saturday, and I'm planning to take full advantage of it. By the way, if you've read this far and are bored, go back to yesterday's post. It was absolute gold, and nobody even commented on it. I'd hate for such brilliance (or whatever it really is) to go unread.

The Human Laxative

It's almost a part of our daily routine now. It's lunchtime or during Matt's drive home from work. I lean over and tell Patrick, "Daddy's home!" or Daddy walks in the door, and it happens. They are sounds that make me wonder if World War III just started outside our window. When I locate the origin of the noise, I find myself staring half in horror and half in wonder at my tiny baby boy. How can such a small thing make such an explosive noise--and never even open his mouth? Any experienced parent must know immediately what I'm referring to: the infamous poopy diaper.

The look on Patrick's face as he shocks us with his special present is the funniest part of my day. Gross as it is, all I can do is laugh as he poops. He smiles a smug little smile, focuses his eyes on a random spot on the wall, and strains just until his face starts turning red. He must know our reaction to the act, because the smug smile stays on his face all the way through the diaper change. He's proud of making such a massive and stinky poop.

Speaking of the stink, there's never been anything like it. I'm not worried about needing an exterminator too often with Patrick around; I can't imagine any critters wanting to get near such an awful smell. Our oh-so-wonderful Diaper Champ--oh-so-wonderful before greeting Patrick's diapers, that is--can't begin to contain the smell. The world's best air freshener can't overpower it. It's tempting to build a bomb shelter out back to store the dirty diapers until trash day, but I don't know what I'd do when I discovered the smell even leaked up through the ground. Fortunately, Matt and I have avoided the "you smell it, you change it" method. He usually smells it first. My sense of smell has diminished now that I'm no longer pregnant (for a while there, I could smell a fire ant at 300 yards), so I debate whether that really is poopy I'm smelling until I see the look on Matt's face. Then that's all I smell. I can't get the diaper off Patrick fast enough. I spare Matt the horror of changing it as he is often just home for lunch when it happens. I'd hate for him to go back to work after seeing the aftermath of World War III in Patrick's diaper.

So it seems that we don't need an Exer-pooper like Lauren's son does to keep Patrick regular. Matt seems to provide enough laxative properties on his own. His mere presence--or even expected presence--keeps Patrick's system moving smoothly. It certainly explains what Patrick thinks of him. As Triumph the Insult Comedy Dog would say, "He's a great daddy--for me to poop on!"

Substitute Post

I'm unsatisfied with the long, rambling, pointless post from earlier today, so here's a substitute post for you, one with a picture this time. (If you're in the mood for a long, rambling, pointless post, it's still right below this one, but don't feel obligated to read it.) Here's my grinning, chubby-cheeked Buddha instead.
His shirt should probably read, "I love mommy's boobs" instead of "I love mommy" (I know it's hard to read). That's where he has spent the majority of the past few days. This picture was caught in one of the rare moments he was not attached to me. From what I understand, that's a good thing; it means he's going through a growth spurt. He's helping me increase my milk supply. When he's not eating, he's sleeping--actually sometimes while he's eating. I think that's when the actual growing takes place. Too bad I won't have an updated weight or height until March 17 (and maybe not even then). It would be interesting to see how much he gains during this growth spurt.

My New Career

When I was young, I always knew what my life would be like when I grew up. I remember always wanting to be the mom when my little sister and I would play house (she was the mom more often, though, as she had a tendency to be pretty bossy). I also remember dressing up as a teacher for our second grade Future Career Day. Although I always knew I would be a teacher when I grew up, that wasn't ever my dream. I can remember times when I had a real desire for teaching, but those times left as quickly as they hit. I never wavered in my desire to be a wife and mom.

A few months ago, when I was sifting through old papers getting ready to move, I ran across an essay I wrote in my senior French class. After deciphering the fairly complex French, I remembered the assignment. We were supposed to write the story of our lives, as though we had already lived them. At that time, I had my life pretty well laid out in front of me. I was going to go to college to get my degree in education, find the love of my life while I was there, marry him about a year after graduation, teach until we had kids, and then be a stay-at-home mom until all the kids were in junior high or so. At that point I would go back into teaching. It was very much an echo of my mom's life. Of course, things didn't work out quite as planned. I wasn't able to obtain my MRS degree in college, as the old joke goes. Instead, I continued with the life I'd set out in my essay, just minus the husband.

I taught high school for five years, three in math and two in English. There were times when I enjoyed my job, but most of the time I just made it from day to day. I can't recall loving the job. I instead loved the attention I got because of my job. I don't fit the typical profile of a high school teacher. I also enjoyed the relationships I developed with the students. I didn't enjoy the actual act of teaching them as much. I was perfectly capable of doing my job, though, and I didn't exactly hate it. Not until the last semester I taught. During that last semester, I dealt with all the most frustrating aspects of teaching, all rolled into the span of a few months. I had a first period class of perpetual skippers or tardies, students who had recovered from serious grade problems who fell right back into old habits and lost all hope, a parent who constantly ignored a restraining order to stay away from her son's teachers at school, and a couple of students whom I and another teacher caught doing illegal drugs out of town at a prestigious competition. Even before Matt and I found out I was pregnant, I had decided it was time to look into other careers. He was completely supportive, even though it meant a significant drop in income.

After getting pregnant, everything changed again. It was not an easy pregnancy. I started missing lots of school because of the severe "morning" sickness (it lasted all day). My inconsistent presence at school was starting to take a toll on my already struggling students, and I was advised to think about just taking the rest of the year off. I calculated my sick days I'd accumulated over my five years and found I could do so without a cut in pay. It might have been a bigger issue if I wasn't planning to quit teaching (I'd need those days later), but the days were going to go to waste if I didn't use them, so why not take the rest of the year off? It was definitely a good decision; the stress from school was hurting the baby, and the baby was creating more stress at school. I got the chance to start being a good stay-at-home mom and wife extra early.

Only rarely do I regret that I'm not still teaching. It was such a part of my identity for so long. I still feel connected to teachers. When I hear TAKS, I still get riled up inside; I still rejoice for all my teacher friends and relatives every time another school holiday comes around. I feel like I have a secret hidden identity now when I'm around people who don't know of my former life. I still like surprising people when I tell them what I used to do. I also feel like I can relate to and empathize with all the teachers I encounter now. While I didn't thoroughly enjoy every day I taught, I don't regret it. It certainly helped turn me into the person I am now.

But now I am a former teacher, not a teacher. And I absolutely love my new job. There are times when I get frustrated that I can't help make Patrick feel better when he's screaming, but all those other times during the day easily make up for the frustrating ones. Finally now I am doing what I always dreamed of doing. Sure it's a twenty-four hour job with very little vacation time, and sure the pay isn't very good, but I still love my job. I know it's only temporary, though. At some point, we're going to find that being paid in baby smiles doesn't really help pay the bills. Maybe at that point I won't mind giving up my dream job to go back to a paying job, but in the meantime, I am going to enjoy every minute I get to live my dream.

They Grow Up So Fast!

Especially Patrick. It seems like he's hitting most of his milestones early, especially when you consider he should be two months behind what is considered normal. I've finally decided that Patrick must just want to grow up fast. That would explain why he came two months early and then wondered why everyone made such a fuss over the fact that he didn't have any prematurity problems. He just thought he was a normal newborn. It also explains why he started rolling over so early, sitting so early, and teething so early. He's also acting more and more like milk isn't enough for him anymore. It's early for solids, but if that's what he wants, that's what he'll get.

It's exciting for us as first-time parents to see him reach all these milestones early. We are certainly proud of him. I just know that in a few years I will miss never really appreciating him as he was before each of the milestones. I will wish that he hadn't been so eager to grow up and that we hadn't encouraged it as much as we have. I guess that means from now on I need to stop worrying about what he's ready for next and enjoy what he does now. Everything else will come in its own time.

On a different note, it's been a lot of fun watching the Olympics with Patrick. His favorite sport is clearly figure skating. He has seemed to watch all the skating we've had on diligently. Because that sounds unusual for a little boy, Matt and I have made all sorts of jokes about it. We were encouraged last night, though, when he showed the most interest in ladies' figure skating. He likes pretty girls in short skirts a lot more than fruity-looking guys. Either that, or the skating was just better.

And where does Patrick keep finding all those Mommy hairs? It seems like every time I look, he is clutching one (or several) of my hairs. It makes sense just after I've been holding him close and he has a death-grip on my hair. I always pluck all those hairs out of his hand when I put him down, though. So how does he end up with one in his hand later? What about when he first wakes up in the morning? Does he comb everything he encounters for a hair to grab? Or have they just started growing straight from his hand? It's quite the mystery.

A Purr-fect Picture

"Grrr," says Patrick. "Look at the pride Mommy has in her punning abilities based on my clothing choices. They're mane-ly the cat's meow. And I'm not lyin' meow (name that movie). They're grrrreat!"

Sorry if I overdid the puns. This is probably the last time my little cub will wear his lion onesie, so I had to take advantage of that while I could. Just remember, Patrick is actually the one who said all those awful puns, not me. Definitely not me. I wouldn't do such a thing. 

Look Ma, No Hands!

Because I did something different yesterday, I have lots of Patrick news to relay today. He's discovered all sorts of new talents in the past two days.

1. He has started imitating me even more, especially the tongue trick his Papa was trying to teach him on Saturday. Now when I stick my tongue out at him, he smiles and sticks his back out. It is clearly deliberate. I'm afraid Papa made Patrick develop a fascination for the tongue.

2. At least for today, Patrick decided he could be a happy baby first thing in the morning. He screamed just enough to wake me up to feed him and then smiled at me as soon as he saw me. He usually keeps screaming even throughout the diaper change and all the way until he is eating, but not today. It sure makes for a happier mommy first thing in the morning. :)

3. He has stopped ignoring all toys. He still doesn't play much with them, but he likes having tummy time in his gym more now. He even posed for a bunch of pictures in it the other day, instead of crying the whole time. Here's one of the best.

4. And the new talent we are most excited about: Patrick is sitting up (sort of). Last night he was really fussy for no apparent reason, so we started trying moving him into different positions to get him happier. We set him on the floor leaning over some, and he seemed like he was pretty balanced. So I let go. He stayed there balanced for anywhere from 5 to 30 seconds each time. Eventually he would start to slowly fall to one side, but as soon as he was placed back up, he could stay there again. And the best part? He was happy as long as he was sitting. Of course we got pictures of the milestone. If you look carefully, you can see my hand in the background, clearly not supporting him, but waiting for the second he started to fall over.

Count Your Many Blessings

I heard several different stories yesterday that served to remind me how lucky I am. I feel the need to list out a few of the many, many blessings I have.

My family is certainly a blessing. My parents are wonderful people who bless the lives of everyone they run into. They quickly adopted each of our spouses into the family, treating them like their own children. And I can't even begin to count all of our childhood friends who at one point were able to consider my parents as an extra set of their own parents. Now that I can see them from an adult perspective, I have nothing but respect for them and their parenting techniques. I am blessed to be their child, and now their friend as well.

I have also been blessed with many siblings. Not only was I blessed with three natural ones, but I have now inherited three more through the marriages of my siblings and three more through my marriage to my husband. They are all great aunts and uncles to Patrick.

I certainly can't forget my new parents. I was blessed many times over when I married Matt, but one of the big ones would be his parents. They adopted me as a daughter the first time they met me, long before Matt and I were considering marriage. That means I'm blessed with not one, but two wonderful sets of parents.

Although I don't have oodles of friends, the ones I do have are a blessing. Whether they are high school friends, college friends, or even more recent friends, maybe friends I've re-met online, they are an encouragement to me. I'm even blessed with friends that I don't call nearly often enough but still seem to love me for who I am.

I realize every day what a blessing Patrick is. When I think of how he is a miracle baby four times over (a statistically impossible conception, two almost-miscarriages, and premature birth), I know he is a blessing God had in mind specifically for me, no matter what my body had to say about it. Every smile he flashes my way is a blessing, as well as every breath he takes. Even each scream or cry is a blessing, merely because he can. It's a blessing he can tell me he is in pain, and it is a blessing to be able to try to take away his pain, even when all I can do is hold him close and cry with him. It is a blessing to watch as he reaches each milestone and a blessing just to be with him another moment.

The biggest blessing in my life, though, is my husband. I thought for so long that I would never find the right man for me, and I feared having to settle if I ever wanted to get married. Instead, I met Matt. He is the perfect man for me, and being married to him is a blessing every day. He is a blessing the way he takes care of me when I don't feel good and even when I do. It is a blessing to go to sleep next to him and wake up next to him. It is a blessing just to sit near each other doing different things and not even talking. And it is a blessing the way he loves me without fail, even when I'm selfish or just being silly.

It is a blessing just to wake up each morning. And it is a blessing each morning that every person I loves wakes as well. Each day I am given on this earth is a blessing to me, and I hope I can remember that with each day I'm given. I know I'm unworthy of all these blessings, but I am grateful I am also blessed with a God generous enough to give me these blessings anyway.

Our Little Man

Sorry for the onslaught of pictures, but the shutterbug in me came out in full force this weekend. After you've looked at the adorable pictures of Patrick in his church outfit, I'll regale you with the stories of the weekend.

I sure hope he ends up liking puppy dogs, since we keep dressing him like one. Isn't the hat just too cute?
He's reaching for someone to save him from the incessant picture-taking, I suppose.

His daddy certainly loves him. I love this look the most.

So yesterday we went shopping for a little while and found a tux (sort of) for Patrick to wear to my brother's wedding in March. It is so cute. I can't wait to see him in it. Sorry, no pictures of the suit yet; we'll all have to wait until the wedding for those. Of course the majority of you who read this will get to see it in person (yay!), but I'll post pictures for the rest of you.

This morning we tried a new church in the Houston area. It's the best one we've visited yet--other than my parents' church in Dallas. I think we've decided that's a bit of a drive on Sunday mornings, though, so we'll probably visit the church from this morning again instead. It was extra appealing to visit this morning; we met up with a college friend of mine whom I've re-met through the world of blogging (check out Lauren's blog through the links on the left). Her parents coincidentally attend this church near us, and she was visiting with them for the weekend. It's always easier to attend a church where I already know someone. It will be interesting to see what the church is like when she's not around. The people were friendly enough that I still think it will be a good experience.

Two more random things: For those of you keeping track, that makes church two weeks in a row. It's been a long time since we've done that. Also, Matt's parents who were down here for the weekend live in the same small west Texas town as Lauren. That means we live in the same town as her parents, and she lives in the same town as Matt's parents. What are the odds of that, I wonder?

Matt has the day off tomorrow. I'm really looking forward to spending another weekend day with him. I love it when he's home with me all day. Too bad at least one of us has to work...

We Remembered to Take Pictures This Weekend!

We got a lot of good pictures tonight, so bear with me! Patrick loves laughing at Papa, especially when he's being silly.

More adoration of his grandparents.

Snuggle time with Papa

I love the way he watches Gigi as he eats. I also love the way he wants to hold her hand.

Papa and Patrick having a conversation belly to belly

Don't they both look so content?

Patrick loves being held by Gigi.

Patrick posing for the camera (but refusing to smile)

And more laughing at Papa being silly. Papa's trying to teach Patrick a new trick. He's picking up that trick a little too easily.

A Better Day

The effects of the immunizations have ended. Yesterday evening, after a good, long nap, Patrick woke up feeling much better. Even the teething pain didn't seem to bother him as much. It was great to see him smiling again, and without that glazed Tylenol look in his eyes. I didn't realize how much it was tearing me up to see him in pain until I felt that relief that he was feeling better.

I have even more good news today. Last night we let Patrick have some tummy time for the first time since the teething pain got so bad. It was clear from the moment he got on the floor that he wanted to roll over. After a few minutes, he figured it out! He rolled over for the first time at about two months, but his body shape at the time was unusual enough that it took very little effort then. Once he grew into a more normal shape, he couldn't swing his head and legs over as easily. He hadn't even tried in over a month. Yesterday, though, it was clearly deliberate. He just kept pushing himself over every time we put him on his belly. He would cry while he was on his tummy and then smile the second he was on his back again. It was so neat! If you can't tell, I'm proud of him.

And now Patrick's Papa and Gigi (Matt's parents) are visiting. They got here early this afternoon and have been holding him ever since. I'm glad he's feeling better for them. He was wide awake when they got here and smiled and stared at them right away. Then he fell asleep on Gigi. I love seeing him so cuddly and loving, especially to his grandparents. I still have no idea where he got those outgoing social skills, though. It certainly wasn't from his parents!

My Poor Baby

Apparently I spoke too soon yesterday when I said Patrick responds well to immunizations. He didn't seem too upset by them yesterday, mostly just sleepy. That's what happened last time; he slept for a few hours and was fine after a good nap. Last night, the sleepiness didn't go away so easily. Part of it was probably in response to the Tylenol--he always gets a little drowsy after taking Tylenol--but it was still worse than normal.

Then he started to wake up about the time I expected him to want to eat for his last feeding of the evening. He wasn't screaming, so we had a nice, pleasant diaper change. As soon as he saw me preparing his bottle (he has to have one bottle with vitamins each day), he started screaming at the top of his lungs. He wasn't hungry until he saw the food. But then he wouldn't eat. We tried every trick in the book for nearly an hour and managed to force no more than about half an ounce down him. He can typically eat four ounces on average from his nightly bottle. It was definitely frustrating and a little scary. He hadn't been eating terribly well for the two feedings before. He would sort of suck while he was mostly asleep for the majority of the feedings. And he would "eat" for anywhere from forty-five minutes to an hour and a half, much longer than normal.

I called the doctor this morning when I found a mosquito-bite-looking spot on his leg where he got one of the shots yesterday. I always debate calling the doctor any time I worry about him because I don't want to be an annoying, super-worried, first-time mother. I finally decided the red spot on his leg combined with his fussiness, sleepiness, and lack of appetite were enough to call. Fortunately, all are pretty typical responses to the shots, and I just need to keep an eye on them to make sure they start getting better soon. The nurse also seemed just concerned enough that I was glad I had called and that it wasn't paranoia.

Now Patrick is screaming again. We're in that black hole of pain between the time the last dose of Tylenol wore off and the next dose starts working. What's funny is that never happens when Matt is around. Patrick was perfectly content the whole time Matt was home for lunch, and just minutes after he left, Patrick started screaming and hasn't stopped since. That happens most afternoons. It makes me feel bad sometimes the way Patrick seems to idolize his daddy and then just screams around me. I know it's just a coincidence, but it's hard to see it that way when he looks me right in the face and cries until he turns purple. Nothing I do helps; it just seems to make him madder that I'm interfering. Sorry for the depressing end of this post. I just really can't get positive when I can't comfort my own baby.

Sleepy Boy

I'd say that doctor's appointment--or the trauma of all those shots--wore him out! 

Patrick's Check-up

The appointment went well enough that I just have to start at the beginning. I left enough time before when I wanted to leave that we were able to take our time getting ready to go and have a leisurely drive down I-10. If you know anything about Houston, rarely can you drive leisurely down the Katy Freeway. Miraculously, traffic was cooperating today. We made it to the doctor's office about twenty minutes early. Instead of chilling in the waiting room for those twenty minutes, they were able to take us right back to a room.

Patrick's favorite nurse took his stats. If you're curious, he is now 10 pounds 10.6 ounces and 22 3/4 inches long (up from 3 lbs 3 oz, and 16.5 inches at birth). He is almost on the charts now. Of course, that's what they said last month too, but it's still encouraging.

The doctor said he was doing great. He even mentioned the word "solids." He suggested that we try to wait until he's six months old, but after hearing some of his behaviors about food, he believes we may need to start solids a bit sooner. I guess it's finally time to invest in a high chair. Other than that, nothing has changed. The doctor seems continually impressed at how normal Patrick is, even normal for a typical four-month old, given his prematurity. I'm proud of my little guy.

It was also the appointment for his four-month shots. He was scheduled for four shots, as well as the Synagis shot that prevents him from getting RSV, a common childhood illness that can have really severe consequences in a premature baby. That's a total of five shots. Patrick did not enjoy that part of the appointment. Once the screaming stopped, though, he was fine. He acts now like nothing traumatic ever happened. Apparently it's typical to have some sort of reaction, like a fever, but Patrick has never responded that way to shots. I guess all that poking and prodding in the hospital had some positive side effects. :)

And here's some news not related to his doctor's appointment. We are expecting some company this weekend. Patrick's Papa and Gigi (Matt's parents) will be coming Saturday. They haven't seen Patrick since Christmas, so we are all super excited they get to come visit. It should be a fun weekend.

Funny Pictures

Patrick loves his new outfit. It's his first basketball jersey, the first of many I'm sure. Ok, I can't quit laughing. Even if by some miracle he does become a jock (neither Matt nor I is athletically inclined), basketball would not be his sport (we also both barely break five feet tall). It's not exactly in his genetic code to bounce a basketball well. He is at least a bouncing baby boy, so the outfit isn't completely wrong.


Just to prove me wrong, here's jock Patrick flexing his muscles for all of us.

Slow News Day

There's not a lot to update today. Patrick is still in a lot of pain from teething. As long as he gets Tylenol somewhat regularly, though, he seems fairly comfortable. That's the only way to help him sleep well right now. At least he likes the taste of the medicine (very different from the way I was as a child, from what I understand). That's a small blessing.

The sweetest thing happened yesterday afternoon. Patrick was fussing, even shortly after getting Tylenol, so I leaned over his bouncer chair where he was resting to talk to him. He kept fussing until I asked him if he wanted Mommy to hold him. Immediately the crying stopped and he broke out into a huge grin. How could I resist that? He was a lot more comfortable in my arms and fell asleep after a few minutes. It was the best sleep he had had for several days. He woke up about two hours after I expected him to want to eat. You know it's good sleep when he doesn't even notice he's hungry.

Other than that, not much is happening. It's a beautiful spring day; the warmth is making for a lazy afternoon. Oh, yeah, Patrick has another check-up tomorrow. Expect to hear the updates tomorrow afternoon when we make it back home.

Ignoring Valentine's Day

I realized after posting last night that I didn't post a picture where you can see the whole sleeper. Now you can see better why it's the ducky sleeper. By the way, I was reluctant to post this picture; it's really not good, especially the angle at which I caught his face. Mom, please don't use this one as your background on your school computer; your students will definitely pick his nose when the picture is projected on the screen! :)

Matt and I did such a big deal for Valentine's Day last year that we're sort of ignoring the holiday this year. Instead of being disappointed that whatever we got each other isn't as good as last year, we're just boycotting altogether. It's certainly the cheaper alternative!

Yesterday afternoon and last night were rough. Patrick just couldn't get comfortable and would cry almost as soon as he would drift off to sleep. We finally figured out that he had started teething in earnest and was in a lot of pain. The whole left side of his mouth had swollen gums, both top and bottom. Tylenol helped, but I think we're going to have to resort to more extreme measures today.

I've realized recently how much of my identity comes from Patrick. I am not just a stay-at-home mother, but a mother of a preemie who still has some needs different from a typical newborn. I use his specialness as a way to make myself feel special, I think. So after one more look at the positive side of having a preemie, I'm going to give the subject a rest as much as possible.

Ten Great Things About Having a Preemie:
10. I didn't gain nearly as much weight as I could have. After he was born, I was back into pre-pregnancy clothes after two weeks and was back to my pre-pregnancy weight by six weeks.
9. I didn't have to go through those last two awful months of pregnancy. I hear they're the most uncomfortable.
8. I got to buy a bunch of preemie clothes. They're so tiny that they can't help but be cute!
7. Instead of the usual crash course in parenting, we got to learn from the expert nurses at the NICU how to feed him, dress him, bathe him, and change his diapers.
6. The nurses were responsible for his nighttime feedings for the first five weeks. We only dealt with sleepless nights for a little over a month.
5. I get so many compliments about how cute he is. He is the size of a one-month old with the social skills of a four-month old. It catches people off guard, but they love it!
4. I've had an easier time developing my "mommy muscles." I got to start with a five-pound weight (when he came home from the hospital) and work up to a heavier weight more gradually.
3. Apnea monitors aren't all bad. I haven't felt the need to check on him in the middle of the night to make sure he was still breathing. The monitor would definitely tell me if he wasn't.
2. I didn't have to recover from giving birth while coping with adjusting my life to the demands of a newborn. I had an easier and faster recovery and was more able to devote myself to caring for Patrick when he came home.
1. I had two extra months to get to know Patrick outside my belly, and two extra months to love him.

So in a way, I guess all the stress of having a preemie can be worth it.

More Pics

Patrick is getting ready to eat. That's why he's wearing his bib. It's a special bib that stays at Nana and Grandpa's house. Doesn't he look excited to be wearing it?

Nana and Patrick are enjoying a sweet feeding moment. Patrick loves staring at whoever feeds him. Just like a dog, he's most devoted to whoever provides food for the moment. Either way, that look can melt anybody.

Patrick is stretching after finishing his nighttime meal. I had to get a picture of his ducky sleeper because this is definitely the last time he can wear it. He can't really stretch his legs out all the way in it now. Doesn't the expression on his face "quack" you up?

Drawing a Title Blank Today

I feel like an awful blogger for not posting any new pictures recently. The Dallas pictures didn't pan out as promised. We were so busy most of the weekend that I forgot to take very many pictures. I'll try to snap a few pictures this afternoon, maybe even in a new outfit. :)

Last night was quite frustrating. Patrick slept most of the day yesterday, after church anyway, so he wasn't quite ready for bed at the usual time. Matt and I were planning to stay up later, so we let Patrick hang out with us, then fed him one more time and put him to bed. He seemed tired when he went to bed and certainly wasn't hungry, so we were hoping for a nice, long night. Patrick didn't quite have the same idea in mind. After only about five hours, he decided to wake up and cry. I tried several times over the next hour and a half to comfort him back to sleep, but he wasn't buying it. He would fall asleep for a few minutes and then wake up screaming just as I would start to doze off again. I finally gave up and fed him earlier than normal, just to try to get him to go back to bed so I could too. It did work, but I have yet to recover from my interrupted sleep. As I whine, though, I realize how much better the night still was than when he was a newborn (or first home from the hospital). Maybe instead of complaining, I should be grateful he slept those five hours so well.

Cute Patrick things update:
I have two more cute stories about things Patrick did yesterday. After church, my friend Susan was holding him. He was grinning at her and clearly liked her. Her husband John came to see him too after a minute. Now, Matt and I and my whole family are fairly small people. These are the people Patrick is used to seeing. John is considerably taller than anyone Patrick has been near before. He also has that deep manly voice that Patrick is attracted to. When he heard John's voice, he looked up to see who it was. He raised his eyes to about the level he would expect to find his daddy. When he didn't see eyes, he lifted his eyes and head, up and up until he found John's face, leaving his jaw against his chest. The result was a look of surprise and awe. It was so funny to watch. The other funny story happened in the car on the drive home. Somebody in the car suddenly passed gas (not Patrick), and it was rank. At first I didn't think Patrick noticed it. But then his face screwed up funny like he was about to cry, then morphed into the wide-eyed, open-mouth face of surprise. I'm quite sure that's when he caught a whiff of the awful smell. Matt and I laughed about that hilarious face the rest of the way home.

Church

Sorry for posting so late today. It was certainly a busy day. We had church in the morning followed by a quick lunch, a visit with Matt's aunt in the afternoon, the long drive home, then unpacking and laundry. This is the first time I've touched a computer all day. I was going through withdrawal.

The best part of the day was definitely church this morning. I didn't realize quite how much I missed it until I was there again. It seems weird, but I'm more at home at my parents' church than any other right now. I've been there more times than any churches in this area of Houston and even have some old friends from college and my old church there. The people I don't know there are super friendly too. I've made new friends there. The best part about it this morning, though, was showing off Patrick. Few people I knew made it to the Christmas morning service, the only other time we've taken Patrick to church. This morning everyone was there. He was being cute and smiley (until the sheer number of people cooing over him overwhelmed him) and made several of my and my parents' friends feel special by showering them with his grins. It was fun sort of being the center of attention. It's amazing how people seem to be drawn to parents holding a baby. Even at restaurants everyone wants to be our best friend, asking all the typical questions about Patrick--age, weight, whether he sleeps through the night, etc. You'd think I'd get tired of answering all the same questions, but I love it. I'm just so proud of him that it's a joy to brag about him. This is definitely one of the fun aspects of parenthood.

Another fun part of the weekend was discovering that Patrick is going to be much better clothed for the next few months. Both grandmas took the "clothing issues" blog as a plea for more baby clothes (which was most certainly not my intention!); Nana (my mother) went shopping with us while we were in Dallas, and Gigi (Matt's mother) had two packages of baby clothes waiting on us when we got home. It's so much fun getting new clothes, even if Patrick's going to be the one wearing them. I hope I have enough hangers and room in his closet for everything!

Olympics and Shopping

I'll admit it: I'm an Olympics addict. The last few times they've been on, I've watched every sport I could stand and found a few I'd never been interested in before. This year, though, I'm having to share the TV with my husband. He doesn't really like any sport. Will I get to watch the ever-suspenseful figure skating finals? What about snowboarding (a new obsession)? I'd hate to find out all the interesting storylines and breath-taking wins and losses from a minute-long blurb on the news instead of experiencing it in person. I suppose we'll have to see what kind of compromise we can agree on...

In unrelated news, I have gone shopping a lot in the last couple days. I had to find a dress for my brother's wedding in March, and my mom wanted to go shopping for baby clothes too. Not that I mind getting new clothes or looking through cute baby outfits. Unfortunately I cannot obsess about shopping the same way I can about the Olympics. I've done better than I expected with the many hours of shopping this weekend, but there are times I had to control my impatience very carefully. At least we had success in both searches. That makes the frustration of shopping worth it.

Cute things Patrick has done in the last day or so: Last night, Nana was teasing Patrick for sneezing by fake sneezing back to him. Apparently Patrick thought that was great and imitated her by fake sneezing back. He has occasionally imitated something we've done, but that was by far the cutest. Another time, Nana leaned in to give him a kiss, and Patrick decided that was the perfect time to stick out his tongue. I don't think he's learned yet when that kind of kiss is appropriate. He seems to have inherited some of his personality from Uncle Dave; we may have to watch his interactions with girls for the next few years and make sure he doesn't attempt any other such mature moves too early. :)

Where's My Muse?

Aargh. I really want to blog and I really don't have any brilliant inspiration for a subject. So if this ends up rambling, tough. I'll probably delete it and start over anyway if it does ramble.

Thanks to all who bothered to read yesterday's interminable post about breastfeeding. I have something of an update to that today. Yesterday because of unusual circumstances, I ended up pumping and bottle-feeding Patrick that breastmilk for all but one feeding. I did surprisingly miss the breastfeeding some. I might not have if I'd had an electric pump--manually pumping was getting frustrating--but it's hard to know. Either way, I'm sort of looking forward to breastfeeding him the next time he needs to eat.

Yes, we are in Dallas now after arriving late yesterday evening. Patrick has already started adapting well to his new surroundings. I think he likes having new people to smile at. He seemed truly happy to be held by Nana and Grandpa last night. This is the first time we've gotten to share his grins with other people. Patrick's smiles can certainly light up a room. I can't wait for the rest of his extended family to enjoy those smiles too, especially his other grandparents.

See, there, I just did it. I wrote a really long paragraph and then decided I hated it all. I guess I just don't know what I want to say today. And I'm going to have to give up pretty soon. I have quite a day planned, mostly just showing off the cute baby. At least I'll get out of the house, and most likely more than once. That's certainly a change from normal. By the way, expect a post later this weekend with some pictures of Patrick in Dallas. I haven't broken out the camera in several days, so I'm itching to do so now that I have different surroundings and backgrounds to try out--and new people to photograph holding him.

Feeding Issues

Ok, I'm just going to say it: I don't really like breastfeeding. (Hesitate a moment as all the devoted La Leche League members gasp in horror.) I realized that again early this morning. I woke up before five realizing I was uncomfortable. To start with, I was really full. In addition, my bra had slipped out of place, causing me to leak milk all over my shirt, the sheet, and my pillow. I had to get up, change shirts, and pump. Then as I finally go to store the milk, I spill about two ounces of it all over the counter and floor. So I have to clean the counter and floor before I can think about going back to bed. Not a fun way to start the day.

My issues with breastfeeding are many:
1. I am by no means a fastidious person, but breastfeeding is just messy. Patrick drools a lot more while breastfeeding than he does with a bottle--and that drool drips all the way down my exposed belly. I also end up with milk all around the feeding area too, at least the moisture from it. I've gotten to where it no longer grosses me out completely, but I still don't like it.
2. It takes Patrick so long to breastfeed. He just wants to hang out there forever, dozing off sometimes. When I feed him my milk through a bottle, he goes right to work and gets the job done.
3. I've developed an obsession with saving every drop as though it were gold (probably a reaction to the early days when I was pumping to feed him in the hospital). I expect that at some point I will spend the night away from Patrick, and I will need enough saved up by then for someone else to feed him that food. This obsession is overwhelming sometimes.
4. I don't feel that intimate connection I heard I should feel while breastfeeding. Because of Patrick's acid reflux, he needs to eat with his head higher than his belly (gravity helps the acid stay where it belongs). Until recently, the only hold I could find to do that was the football hold. You lose some intimacy holding your child like you're about to score a touchdown. It's an awkward hold for me. I feel a lot more intimacy bottle-feeding him. He is able to stare up into my eyes the whole time instead of at my cleavage or into my armpit, like he does when he breastfeeds.
5. I can bottle-feed in public, but I am not the type to be able to breastfeed that way. I can't just hike up my shirt in front of people and keep functioning like normal with a kid hanging from my boob. That means I have to stay close enough to home that I can be there for a feeding every three hours during the day.
6. My breasts are apparently quite prone to breast infections. I've had three already. It's not serious, but breastfeeding literally makes me sick. I am sacrificing my own health for Patrick when I continue to breastfeed him.
6. Last but not least, I feel like my boobs are not my own. I am constantly worried about leaking in public, and they just don't feel the same. I won't get into any more details about it because I know my mom and other close relatives will be reading this, but they seem to have lost their former purpose.

I know, everyone is thinking, "Why not switch to formula then?" See, I've thought of that too, and here's why I can't.
1. Have I really given breastfeeding a fair shot? When Patrick first came home from the hospital and I realized I didn't like breastfeeding, I attributed it to lack of experience and agreed to keep trying. Have almost three months been long enough for me to adjust to it? I'm reluctant to give up until I'm sure it's not just the newness of it that I dislike.
2. I can't get past what everyone says about the value of breastmilk. I know this is better for Patrick, and of course I want to do what is best for him. But at what point does the breastmilk stop being as valuable for him? If I knew that, I might be more willing to start weaning him to formula at that point.
3. Of course the cost is an issue. We cannot easily afford formula for Patrick without seriously cutting back on some other areas in our budget. Breastmilk is essentially free. Easy decision!

So what do I do? I keep breastfeeding Patrick, even though I don't like it. I knew I would have to make many sacrifices for my child long before he was born, and this is just one of those sacrifices. Sorry for the boring post today, but I needed to pin down my thoughts on the matter after my fun experience this morning.

By the way, for the next few days I will be posting from Dallas. We are spending the weekend there with my parents. There is a chance I will miss a day of blogging because of the change in schedule, but I will still try.

Clothing Issues

I got such a good response from yesterday's blog that I'm reluctant to post anything today; I can't happen upon such brilliance two days in a row. I also don't have anything nearly as sentimental to post, probably nothing of much interest to anybody. If you stumble across this blog, skip this post and move on down to the next one. The pictures are the real reason to stop here anyway. Speaking of pictures, I had to post one more of Patrick in his yellow outfit so everyone could see the whole thing. It is the most special article of clothing we own. It was handmade by Patrick's great-grandmother. She has since passed away. The detailed stitching is probably what won it a top prize at the state fair. (Do I have that story right, Gigi?) We're thrilled Patrick can finally fit into it. We were planning to have him wear it home from the hospital, but he would have drowned in it then. So here he is in it, at last.

In other clothing news, Patrick is still rapidly growing. It feels like he just graduated into newborn sized clothing, and now very few still fit. It is certainly a bittersweet conundrum. It's exciting that he is growing so fast, and I love seeing him in all the new cute outfits. It feels like he almost always has new clothes to wear. On the other hand, we are always forced to buy those new clothes (or beg the grandmas to go shopping for us :) ). I also love some of the clothes he's grown out of, and it makes me sad to think I won't see him in them any longer. When I buy clothes for myself, I expect to wear them year after year. I still have some T-shirts and maybe a dress from high school. I've gotten so into the "wear it forever" mentality that it disappoints me to rethink that mentality for Patrick's clothes. I suppose I must just get used to it because from what I understand, he will grow like a weed for many more years. At least his wardrobe will never get boring. 

Happy Four-Month Birthday, Patrick!

Today Patrick officially turns four months old. Although it may seem like an insignificant landmark to anybody else, for some reason it stands out in my mind. So I'm taking a few minutes out to recall the journey that brought us to today, and you get to follow me on it.

(Patrick at about two days old in his incubator at the hospital)

I remember feeling silly for going to the hospital for back and abdominal pain that I thought was a kidney infection. I remember calmly pushing Patrick out a mere three hours later. I remember numbly holding him for a few moments before he was whisked off to the NICU, in awe that I was holding my son whom I was not expecting to see for another two months. I remember knowing without a doubt that he was fine, even though he was early enough that he should have had several somewhat serious problems. I remember my first visit to see him in the NICU and holding my tiny miracle, suddenly aware my life had changed and I was indeed now a mother.

(Me holding Patrick during one visit at the hospital, early in his stay)

I remember spending two hours in the car every day for the next five weeks just to drive across town to visit Patrick in the hospital for an hour or so. I remember spending every morning depressed, every afternoon hopeful and anxious about the visit, and every night either elated or disappointed, depending on how the visit went and Patrick's improvements (or lack thereof) since the day before. I remember watching Matt hold Patrick for the first time and the soft look of fatherhood that crossed his face. I remember the nurses encouraging us to help take care of him and our hesitation that anything we did wrong would injure him. I remember counting down the days until his expected homecoming only to find out the day before that he was staying a minimum of five more days--and the crushing disappointment and fear for Patrick's health that overwhelmed us. And I remember the day we were told we could finally free him from his incubator prison.

(Patrick all dressed up to come home, and obviously thrilled about it)

I remember that long drive home from the hospital where I tried to protect him from every bump in the road and every flashing light. I remember bringing him into the house we had so carefully prepared for his arrival, uncertain of what to do to take care of this fragile, tiny person who suddenly seemed a stranger. I remember the next few weeks passing in a haze of exhaustion and lack of sleep. I remember the diaper change where we went through three diapers at once because Patrick decided a fresh diaper meant it was time to potty again. I remember the day I learned it was better to bathe Patrick before I got myself ready for the day so that I wouldn't have to change clothes and redo my make-up after being showered in urine.

(Patrick at Thanksgiving--almost two months)

I remember our first trip with Patrick, to Dallas for Thanksgiving. I remember being proud to show off our tiny bundle of joy to the family and watching everyone get to hold him. I remember being jealous of everyone else holding him after a few days because I missed spending my days with him in my arms. I remember the relief at having Nana around to help, especially to cuddle with him in the middle of the night when he was reluctant to go back to sleep after a feeding. I remember the relief at being back home with him at the end of the week so that we could return to our routine.

(Patrick at Christmas--almost three months)

I remember our return trip to Dallas for Christmas. I remember being in awe at how quickly the car filled up with all the baby stuff we were required to bring for Patrick. I remember the joy I had taking Patrick to church for the first time on Christmas Sunday. I remember opening all his presents for him while he slept in Daddy's and Nana's and Grandpa's arms. I remember again being proud to show him off to the family and to watch them in awe of how big he'd gotten and his new accomplishments. I remember his first giggle around the same time, when he saw me in my new glasses and thought I looked goofy enough I deserved a giggle.

(Patrick at four months)

I remember finally settling into a reasonable routine just a few weeks ago. I remember Patrick starting to recognize Matt and me. I remember him starting to smile, laugh, coo, and squeal in reaction to us. I remember being amazed at every stride he made. I remember that morning I finally comprehended the mystery of motherhood.

And I remember holding him for hours just because I wanted to feel him close. And I remember loving him through everything, even the hours of inconsolable crying, because I can't imagine doing otherwise.

It's certainly been four difficult months, but they are also so filled with joy that I wouldn't trade them for anything. Happy four month birthday, Patrick. I pray for many, many more such birthdays that I get to celebrate with you.

Don't Let the Smile Deceive You!

Patrick usually refuses to smile for the camera. To prove he does smile, I persuaded his daddy to distract him while I snuck a picture of him. I missed the biggest part of the grin, but at least you can see he does smile.

This was NOT the face we saw last night, though. He was inconsolably fussy. Matt and I tried everything we could dream up, but nothing worked. I felt like a bad parent because my baby was uncomfortable (probably from teething), and I couldn't help him. The crying was quickly trying our patience too. To avoid losing our patience and proving we were bad parents, we had to try something different. Before I say what we did, here's our rationalization: We had been trying everything to comfort him without helping at all. Because he was depending on us to comfort him, he didn't try to comfort himself. At some point, he does need to know how to do that. It may be early to try, but Matt and I couldn't help him, so why not let him try to comfort himself? We put him in his crib and closed the door and let him cry himself out. He only paused in his screaming occasionally and essentially cried for a full hour. We had his baby monitor on and watched him the whole time; we couldn't ignore him completely. I know I had a good rationalization for leaving him to cry, but I still felt guilty for the whole hour and apologized to him when I retrieved him from his crib. I think it was a "damned if you do, damned if you don't" situation. No matter what I did, I was going to feel like a bad parent because I couldn't take away his pain.

Yet another rant about his apnea monitor: It went off repeatedly again this morning between 4 and 5:30. The second I would hit the bed after checking on him and resetting the monitor, the alarm would shriek again, pulling me out of bed before I'd even rebuilt my cocoon of sheets. I got fed up after an hour or so and just turned off the monitor. I decided I'd sleep better with the paranoia that something would happen than the shriek of the alarm. To ease my paranoia, Patrick was kind enough to reassure me he was okay every ten minutes or so by screaming just long enough to wake me up again. Needless to say, it was a frustrating morning. Patrick is sleeping it off right now, but I'm too awake now to take a nap. Aaargh! Reluctantly, I have to admit that his charming smiles from earlier make up for the lack of sleep, though. I'm glad I finally caught one on "film" (memory card?).

Sleepy Sunday

I'm not sure what wore him out so much. He was sucking on the pacifier during the first half of the photo shoot, then it slipped out of his mouth as he fell into a deeper sleep. I love this outfit, but it may be one of the last times he can wear it--not as much because he's growing out of it but more because it's too warm for February, at least this year. If you can't see what's on the shirt very well, it's teddy bears skiing. I waited a long time for him to grow into the outfit and then waited longer for the weather to be appropriate to wear it. I gave up. Enjoy what will probably be the only picture of him in it! 

Super Bowl Sunday

Actually, I couldn't care less about the Super Bowl this year. I am typically a huge football fan--the only team sport I enjoy watching--but the last few years I've followed college football much more diligently than professional football (go Red Raiders!). To add to my ambivalence, I don't particularly like (or hate) either the Steelers or the Seahawks. They could both lose for all I'd care. For the first time in many years, Matt and I are not even planning to flip through the game to check on the score. We're taping it instead; we want to fast forward TO the commercials instead of through them. For the past few years the commercials have been much more interesting than the game itself. Sorry to all you football fans!

There's not much else going on around here to talk about. It's been a quiet and lazy day. Patrick was fussy some last night and some earlier today, but I think it's a combination of teething pain and sleepiness. He has one tooth that acts like it's going to break through the gums any day now. I'll keep you updated on when that does happen.

Interesting side note: Last night and this afternoon, Matt took care of mowing and edging our lawn for the first time. It was starting to look like it might not survive the winter because it hadn't been taken care of very well before we moved in. It also didn't have much time to take root (it was brand-new grass in a brand-new yard) before winter hit. Fortunately it was a mild winter--I'm assuming it's over now--and the grass has already started growing again. It's hard to believe we're having to deal with a lawn as early as February. My dad would say, "I told you so;" he's always said he had to start taking care of the lawn this early in the year when he lived in Houston. My dad's wisdom prevails again!

Home Again, Home Again

We have returned to Houston safely...and already almost finished unpacking. It feels great to be home again. Even Patrick seemed to recognize home. After taking him out of his carseat, we placed him in his rocker chair where he sits a lot of days. He immediately started smiling and chattering at the curtain and light next to the chair, his friends I suppose. It appeared as though he recognized where he was.

The last evening in Austin was pretty quiet. We were planning to go out to eat someplace nice again, but we forgot it was Friday and started out too late. We hit the Friday night date night rush. Instead of waiting forever, we gave up and ate fast food again in the hotel. To balance it out, we went out for ice cream later. At least it was a relaxing evening.

Yes, I am starting to feel somewhat better already. I don't think the infection is as severe this time, and it certainly helps that I got started on antibiotics so quickly. I'm sure by the middle of the week it will be like it never even happened.

For those of you more interested in Patrick than me, there's not much to report. In the past few days he has developed a fascination for his tongue. It's hanging out of his mouth as often as it stays in. He smiles with the tip of his tongue out when he laughs. It's adorable. He has also learned how to store his saliva and drool or spit it out at will. I'm proud of him, but I have a feeling this will lose its novelty quickly. I already think sometimes it's not a coincidence that he spits or spits up just as we move our hands in front of his face. And the orneriness just gets worse before it gets better, doesn't it?

And Vacation Nears Its End

We head back home to Houston tomorrow. I'm kind of glad to be headed home, back to familiar surroundings and routines, but I've enjoyed the change of scenery. I think Matt appreciated the change in routine this week too. Apparently the training was quite a bit beneath his skill level--he was teaching the instructor things--but he seemed to like the social aspects of it and being away from work for a week.

The vacation is not exactly ending on the best note, though. I woke up this morning with yet another breast infection. The fever part of it has yet to hit, if it even will this time, but I still feel puny and achy. I am going back on the antibiotics that I just finished a couple of weeks ago for the last infection. For those of you concerned, the infection and antibiotics should not affect Patrick at all. He must somehow intuitively know that I'm feeling under the weather because he has been an absolute angel today. He barely even cried when he was hungry. During the time he's been awake, he's been in a great mood, smiling and laughing at everything. I'm still managing to enjoy his company even though I'm not feeling great.

Last night we took Patrick to Red Lobster (our place) for the first time. He seemed to have a good time. It was unofficially baby night there; we saw I think four other babies while we were waiting to be seated. One of the babies was only two days old--still almost Patrick's size, if you can believe it. After we got home from dinner, Patrick was fussy for a little while, but he calmed down while we fed him his last meal before bed and then slept well throughout the night. I'm enjoying him a lot more at this age, now that he's crying a lot less, smiling a lot more, and sleeping through the night.

Drowsy Day

Today is one of those dry, warm, drowsy days of late spring. It makes me shrug at the groundhog who predicted six more weeks of winter this morning. Six more weeks? How about six weeks total? That means we'd need about five more this year. It's hard to believe it's only February on days like this, where the temps have easily reached 80 and the smell of spring is in the light breeze.

I have something of an update from yesterday's rant about the apnea monitor. After posting yesterday, the doctor called back again. It turns out the monitor people do remember getting the monitor from us and attempting to download the data. Apparently some of the data were "corrupted" during the download. Translation: They messed up badly and lost all of the crucial information. Yes, lost, not just temporarily misplaced. They have sentenced Patrick to at least three more weeks on his monitor. By the way, that is the good news. The doctor said without actually saying it that it's absurd to think Patrick really needs to be on the monitor. He's certain enough that he's willing to compromise the eight verified weeks without an apnea attack down to just four or five (the week's data that he has, this past week, and three more). He confirmed that the data from the one week he has showed no true attacks. I also think he is starting to doubt Patrick ever needed the monitor; Matt and I have suspected this all along. He will be asking the NICU doctor who prescribed the monitor in the first place for the test that decided he needed it. If this doctor decides the hospital doctor misinterpreted it, I'm sure we'll be off the monitor immediately. Please pray that we can find some loophole to get him off the monitor soon. It's driving us all crazy, and Patrick is ready to just be a normal baby.

There's not much else to report since yesterday. It's been pretty quiet. Patrick had a great night, sleeping soundly all night; his monitor didn't even go off. I slept like a log too, and it was great sleep. Patrick and I got out for lunch earlier, but we're just chilling in the hotel room the rest of the day. This drowsy weather is making me too lazy to want to venture out too far. Instead, I think I'll just enjoy my happy baby. He's flirting with me over his burp rag right now. How can I resist that grin?

Patrick Being Cute

Here's Patrick with his two favorite toys, for now anyway. He loves his Gloworm and won't sleep without him. He has also started playing with his "keys" (really just plastic things that resemble a keyring) by shaking them. Yes, sometimes he does hit himself in his face. Usually that makes him giggle.

"Do a little dance..." Need I say more?

This is my new favorite sleeper for him. Those stripes are really just words repeated over and over: "If they could just stay little..." How true!