It was early, early morning this morning (or 11:00). I was slowly being awakened to the sound of baby mutterings from the other room. As I grew more conscious, I reluctantly realized Patrick needed me, probably for more food. I groaned to myself and rolled over, dreading the burst of energy it would take to roll out of bed. Just then, Matt came into the room.
"Can you hear Patrick?"
Another groan. "Yes, he's awake already, isn't he?"
He hesitated. "Do you hear what he's saying?"
Huh?
"He's repeating, 'Mama.' Listen. He's saying, 'Ma. Mamamama. Mama.'"
And I did listen. I could barely tell the difference from his usual morning chatter, but it was there. My baby was calling for me. He wasn't just making noises to get attention. He was calling my name!
I wish I could say that urged me to hop out of bed and run to his side, but it didn't. I was way too groggy to get up quickly. Besides, I have a feeling that for a while, everything will be called a mama since that is the only word he knows. At least he's calling everything by my name!
In other news, last night Matt and I went out to eat in a real restaurant for a semi-date. It can't be a real date when you spend most of your time keeping the runt in the high chair entertained. He was entertaining, though! As we were getting settled at our table, several elderly people at the next table couldn't keep from complimenting him. "Look at those long eyelashes! She's so pretty--and in such a good mood. How old is she?" Yes, that's right, they mistook Patrick for a girl. I suppose between the long eyelashes he's so good at fluttering and the gender-nonspecific yellow onesie he was wearing, it was bound to happen. I was quite relieved I had thought ahead to bring the bib with a football on it. Nobody else made that mistake!
This was Patrick's first time in a public high chair, one of those generic ones they always have at restaurants. We've always been reluctant to try him in one because of his previous inability to sit up well. He did great in the high chair last night, though. I think he loved sitting up at the table where he could see everything with Mommy and Daddy. He also loved trying little pieces of food off Daddy's plate. Broccoli may become a new favorite. He started getting bored and fussy by the time we ordered dessert (yes, we even ordered dessert!), which made sense since I expected him to want to sleep about ten minutes into the meal. He was a trooper to make it that long, though. I sat him on my lap and found him a toy out of the diaper bag to play with and fought him as he squirmed and tried to drop the toy on the floor--all at the same time I tried to enjoy dessert with my other hand. I know mothers grow another set of eyes in the back of their head when the baby is born, but I think another set of arms would be welcome too.
Overall, the semi-date went well. I think all three of us had a great time, and the outing had the unexpected benefit of wearing Patrick out. He was asleep in his carseat by the time we got home. He slept from then straight through to 8:00 this morning.
Ok, now the reason for the title:
Look at the tongue. He gets that from Nana, who supposedly always needs that tongue out to concentrate on anything carefully (or so my dad says).
"Are you looking at my ball? My ball!"
"Can you hear Patrick?"
Another groan. "Yes, he's awake already, isn't he?"
He hesitated. "Do you hear what he's saying?"
Huh?
"He's repeating, 'Mama.' Listen. He's saying, 'Ma. Mamamama. Mama.'"
And I did listen. I could barely tell the difference from his usual morning chatter, but it was there. My baby was calling for me. He wasn't just making noises to get attention. He was calling my name!
I wish I could say that urged me to hop out of bed and run to his side, but it didn't. I was way too groggy to get up quickly. Besides, I have a feeling that for a while, everything will be called a mama since that is the only word he knows. At least he's calling everything by my name!
In other news, last night Matt and I went out to eat in a real restaurant for a semi-date. It can't be a real date when you spend most of your time keeping the runt in the high chair entertained. He was entertaining, though! As we were getting settled at our table, several elderly people at the next table couldn't keep from complimenting him. "Look at those long eyelashes! She's so pretty--and in such a good mood. How old is she?" Yes, that's right, they mistook Patrick for a girl. I suppose between the long eyelashes he's so good at fluttering and the gender-nonspecific yellow onesie he was wearing, it was bound to happen. I was quite relieved I had thought ahead to bring the bib with a football on it. Nobody else made that mistake!
This was Patrick's first time in a public high chair, one of those generic ones they always have at restaurants. We've always been reluctant to try him in one because of his previous inability to sit up well. He did great in the high chair last night, though. I think he loved sitting up at the table where he could see everything with Mommy and Daddy. He also loved trying little pieces of food off Daddy's plate. Broccoli may become a new favorite. He started getting bored and fussy by the time we ordered dessert (yes, we even ordered dessert!), which made sense since I expected him to want to sleep about ten minutes into the meal. He was a trooper to make it that long, though. I sat him on my lap and found him a toy out of the diaper bag to play with and fought him as he squirmed and tried to drop the toy on the floor--all at the same time I tried to enjoy dessert with my other hand. I know mothers grow another set of eyes in the back of their head when the baby is born, but I think another set of arms would be welcome too.
Overall, the semi-date went well. I think all three of us had a great time, and the outing had the unexpected benefit of wearing Patrick out. He was asleep in his carseat by the time we got home. He slept from then straight through to 8:00 this morning.
Ok, now the reason for the title:
Look at the tongue. He gets that from Nana, who supposedly always needs that tongue out to concentrate on anything carefully (or so my dad says).
"Are you looking at my ball? My ball!" or Matt's caption: "Yesssh, my precious..."
There's that tongue again!
There's that tongue again!
"To be or not to be..."
Maybe he has more of a future in sports that I'd ever imagined. That's pretty good ball-handling, if I do say so myself.
Labels: Feelings, Fun Stories, Milestones, Photos
1 Comments:
Poor kid does not have a chance. On this(Matt's)side of the family, both his GiGi and Grammy have been in danger of bitting thier tongue off for years. Nothing gets done around here without her tongue out and my mom's has been out long enough it should be tan. LOL
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