Keeping Myself Grounded

I am being repeatedly bombarded these days with the fact that my baby turns one year old in a mere five weeks and two days. That sounds so old! And for some reason, my mind has interpreted that one-year mark as the end of all things baby. It's like I'm expecting to wake up that morning and find a toddler in Patrick's crib in place of my little baby.

I've always planned to nurse for a year. Once he hits that year milestone, if either one of us wants to stop nursing, we will. Yet in my mind, I haven't imagined a slow weaning process, but more of "You're a year old now; you're cut off!" And as much as I detested my choice to nurse at first, now I'm thinking I'll miss it some. That's really my only opportunity to treat him like a little baby anymore, the only time I can hold him without him trying to wiggle off my lap or climb up my front.

All the other things that we've been advised to postpone until his first birthday will suddenly be allowed: "adult" milk, chocolate, all the other foods that may have been ok months ago but I've been too chicken to try yet, all the 12 months and up toys. My copy of What to Expect in the First Year will quickly be obsolete. It's as if on that morning in a mere five weeks and two days, everything I've always known will be useless.

Yet I realize his birthday will be no different from any of my own. Have I suddenly woken up on any birthday and felt any different? Or matured through major milestones overnight? Patrick will still be my Patrick then, just one day older. He may be allowed to try new things, especially food-wise, but there is nothing so magical about the day he turns one that I won't recognize my own baby because of all the changes. They will happen slowly, just as all the other changes and milestones have happened.

I need to keep reminding myself that I have nothing to fear from his first birthday. It will be a neat celebration and memory for all of us, but for him it's nothing more than a day with lots of new toys and the treat of his first taste of cake. He will not cease to be my Patrick just because he's turned one. Nor will he when he turns two, or three, or even thirty. No matter how monumental the milestone, nothing can change him from the Patrick I love with all my heart.

Since Patrick was feeling kind of under the weather yesterday (allergies), I didn't get any pictures of him. So instead, here's a video of him I've been saving for a rainy day:


Notice how it looks like he rolls his eyes at Daddy toward the end. Is that a budding teenager or what?

SuperBaby

Maybe Patrick isn't crawling because he feels he's above it; he has no need for it. He thinks there are much better ways to move himself, such as telekinetically. Sometimes when he really wants to get somewhere, like to Daddy when Daddy leaves the room, he'll scrunch up his face and tighten every muscle in his body, kind of like when he tries to poop but without the same straining. We finally figured out that's his way of attempting to move himself. Maybe if he tries really hard this time, it will finally work and he'll find himself where he'd rather be, without any complicated efforts like crawling or walking. Those are for sissies who haven't mastered the art of telekinesis like our SuperBaby! (Eventually he'll figure out he doesn't have the super powers he thinks he has, and he'll give up and crawl, I'm sure.)
I also have some great news to share. Take a long look at this outfit (and the food in his mouth, since he's so eager to show it off):
This is the last time you'll see him in this outfit. That's right...he's growing out of the smallest of his 3-6 months clothes! I'm betting he'll be in all 6-9 months clothes by his first birthday. I'm so excited. As cute as these outfits are, I'm eager to try him in new clothes, especially all the adorable things we have hanging in his closet just waiting for him to grow into. That will be a fun task this week, sorting through those 6-9 months clothes we have to see what he just might fit into already. I like any milestone he hits that means new clothes!

"How you doin'?"

Bad Timing

Patrick totally has a sense of humor. Not only does he already think farts and burps are funny, but he's already developing a more mature humor as well. Yesterday I set him on our bed to have him nearby while I drew up his medicine. I started by placing him relatively close to the edge and then rethought that idea. He normally doesn't move much on the bed, but I didn't want yesterday to be the day he falls off the bed. After placing him right in the center of the bed where it should be impossible for him to fall off the edge in the short time I would be leaving him, I still felt the need to caution him. "Now don't suddenly decide this is the perfect time to learn how to crawl!"

I laughed at myself and answered for him (as I often do, and I think anyone would if they spent all day with someone who doesn't really understand them): "Right, Mom. I don't think that will be a problem."

Then I left for a few minutes to go into our bathroom to draw up his meds. I heard him chattering and squealing some during that short time, but I didn't give it a second thought. He often makes noises like that when he plays. So you can imagine my surprise when I walked back into the bedroom to find Patrick on his belly on the bed, reaching his hands out as far as possible to grab the edge of the bed. I think he thought it would be funny to try to crawl, right after I told him it was the worst possible time. I wonder if it had taken a few more minutes to get his meds ready if he would have mastered the art of crawling--or if he would have just maneuvered his way off the bed.

Since I didn't get any pictures over the weekend, here are lots that Matt and I took yesterday:

Patrick is playing with one of his favorite toys, Daddy's foot.

Not my best picture (my eyes have been really light-sensitive, so I can't look up into the lights without closing them), but Patrick was being super cute, perfectly content to lay back on my belly, something he never does.

This is quite the cheesy grin/laugh. It's contagious though; it makes me smile every time I see it.

And this is my new favorite picture of him. I love this smile. It shouldn't surprise you that he's flashing it at Daddy in the background.

That's About Right

I totally should have waited to blog today. Obviously I was scrounging for material earlier. If I'd only waited another couple of hours, I would have had a much more interesting story to tell. So I'm going to tell it anyway, to make up for the fiasco that was the last post.

Our exterminator was scheduled to come by today sometime between 3 and 5. He was going to spray for spiders and put some more glue traps in our attic for those mice (that he still insists shouldn't be there). Rarely do these guys show up right on time, so when Patrick woke up from his nap shortly before 3:00, I assumed I had plenty of time to at least give him a bath before the exterminator showed up. I was hoping to also nurse him first, but that was easier to stop in the middle of than a bath.

So naturally, just as I'm in the middle of soaping up Patrick, the doorbell rings. I remember the proper bath safety and realize I have to somehow take a wet, slippery, soapy, naked Patrick with me to the door. I'm sure the exterminator knew he'd caught us at a bad time when I answered the door completely frazzled with a wet shirt and holding a naked Patrick hastily wrapped in his towel, still with soap in his hair and clinging to his rubber ducky. We made quite a picture, although the rubber ducky made it, I'm sure.

Then of course the first thing the exterminator wants to do is climb into our attic to place those glue traps. The attic trapdoor opens into our garage, directly over one of our cars--the one Matt leaves for me during the day. (You expected that by now, I hope.) Now I was holding a naked, wet, soapy baby clinging to the last hope of a bath, his rubber ducky, and I needed to back the car out of the garage. I figured Patrick had been through enough already, so I didn't even attempt to strap him into his carseat naked (I think that would hurt). Instead I did the horrible bad-mother move of leaving him alone in his crib in the house while I quickly backed out the car. He didn't seem to suffer any from it anyway.

And to top it all off, this was the most thorough exterminator we've ever had from this service. He took his time spraying everything and insisted on explaining every move he made. "Just so you know, ma'am," while holding up the can of spray stuff, "this is the same stuff they use in hospitals. It's completely safe for all you guys." And he glanced at the still-naked Patrick on my lap, although by this time he was mostly dry again.

Anybody else ever have the opportunity to attempt to entertain a naked baby desperate for his bath while following an exterminator around the house for an hour, praying he'll leave and really not caring anymore whether there are mice in the attic or spiders in the shower? I highly recommend it. It will cure you of boredom in a heartbeat!

Oops, He Did It Again

You saw Patrick's newest thing in yesterday's post. If you didn't see it, go look now because it doesn't really make as much sense until you see it in action.

Patrick is now obsessed with leaning over. He does it in his high chair, his carseat, his rocker chair, basically any time he sits up. It's made for a few anxious moments while I frantically try to strap him down. The only time I let him lean over as far as he wants to is when he plays on the floor. It's not like he'll hurt himself if he falls on his face on the carpet.

He is definitely getting more limber. As painful as it looks to me, he seems to like having his body practically on the floor between his legs. It means he can reach toys that he's shoved much farther in front of him, too. The problem is that he's still developing those muscles in his back that move his upper body at all sorts of crazy angles. The muscles can help him lean over really far and even hold him up off the ground by just an inch or two, but they aren't quite strong enough yet to pull him back up. He's also not quite flexible enough to lie completely flat on the floor like that. When the piano is there, he can always lie on that like a pillow, as you saw in the picture, when his back gets tired of holding him up. But when the piano isn't there, he gets stuck. It usually makes him upset, and I have to rush to rescue him from the crazy position he finds himself in once again. Why does he continue to lean forward that far when it always makes him mad?

Matt and I keep hoping this is just one more step he needs to take before he starts crawling. I kind of doubt he'll start crawling by pushing himself forward, though. He doesn't have the strength or flexibility yet to pull those legs behind him, and even if he did, he hates being up on his knees. Instead he would just sprawl the legs behind him and find himself in the hated belly position again. While I see a clear desire to move on his own, Patrick can't or won't try moving himself in new ways to try crawling. He screams whenever Matt or I attempts to move his body to help get him into crawling position. Really, though, I think he's just showing how smart he is. Why go through all the effort of learning to crawl when Mommy or Daddy will carry you everywhere you want to go with just one sad puppy dog look?

Sure Enough, Patrick

He may only have one word, but he knows when to use it.

Last night at dinnertime, he was hamming it up as usual. Laughing, I asked him, "Where'd you get that crazy personality from, anyway?"

He looked right up at me, and clear as a bell said, "Mama!"

"I love my Baby Einstein piano!"

Critters in the Attic

I suppose it's better than snakes on a plane, but I'm not too excited about the critters in our attic. Matt and I had started hearing scratching noises in our walls and ceiling months ago. Of course we immediately worried about some sort of critter living with us. Then Matt remembered that our new house should settle some, and it was entirely possible the settling could sound like scratching sometimes. I was willing to believe him because I'd much rather blame the sound on an expected occurence than an uninvited animal living in our attic.

The day before we left for Dallas last time, I heard it again, louder than ever. Matt set up an appointment for our exterminator to take a look, but he couldn't come until after we got back from Dallas. By then I'd all but convinced myself I was just hearing things and that it certainly couldn't be an animal in our attic. The exterminator agreed; he said no critters would want to take up residence in a sweltering attic in a Houston summer. To pacify us, he just set out a few glue traps. Matt and I forgot all about them being there.

Well, until yesterday morning. Matt woke me up early, before he even left for work, because he heard an insistent scratching in a new part of the house. Together we investigated our attic with only a rake, but didn't find anything. The one glue trap we found was untouched. Still, we were both absolutely positive we were sharing our house with some sort of living creature. When Matt went to spread rat poison later in the day, he finally saw at least one of our guests: a tiny field mouse. From the amount and volume of the scratching, we were both wondering how big that squirrel was. Instead, it seems as though we simply have a family of mice who spend the morning in our attic. We're pretty sure they leave out the back of our house for the heat of the day because we only hear the scratching in the mornings. Matt also found where the gaps are where they might find a way in, all along the overhang at the back of our house, behind our bedroom. Now I'm kind of creeped out thinking of the many days of the many months that I've had critters scurrying right behind my head and across the ceiling over the bed every morning while I've slept.

Although normally an animal lover, I don't think I'll mind knowing the rat poison is doing its job.

Oh, To Be Ten Months Old Again...

...when it's always playtime and the world is your toy.

Bathtime is playtime...
Dinnertime is playtime...
Medicine time is playtime...(a carefully supervised playtime!)

Waiting-for-medicine time is playtime...
Naptime is playtime...

Diaper-changing time is playtime...

And of course, playtime is playtime!

New Mealtime Complaints

As Patrick woke up from his morning nap yesterday, I found myself groaning to myself that he was already awake again, because that meant it was already time to feed him again. I envisioned those long moments sitting in front of his high chair, feeding him spoonful after spoonful of mushy food and navigating it around his ever-waving arms to avoid spilling, as that means a long clean-up time to follow. I then pictured myself finding ways to entertain both myself and him as he fed himself Cheerio after Cheerio after Cheerio. I never want to go far for fear this is the day he finally chokes on one, but it's difficult for me to hover near when he so clearly doesn't need me anymore, at least not for anything beyond refilling his tray with Cheerios regularly.

I realized as this dread washed over me that mealtimes have again turned into marathon sessions. They remind me of those first few weeks of breastfeeding, when he could easily eat for forty-five minutes at a time and then be ready to eat two hours after finishing the last meal. Obviously, mealtimes are infinitely more entertaining now, and I'm not about to complain about not needing to get up during the night anymore. Still, I think I'll be more than content when he can feed himself at a more consistent pace and when we can schedule his meals so that he eats with us, not before or after us while attempting to entertain himself while we eat. (We have tried the joint mealtimes, and they work, but they can be frustrating trying to coordinate feeding both myself and Patrick at the same time.)

Patrick's careful observation of Daddy and me while we eat has begun to pay off. He now imitates us. Sometimes if we're eating and he's not, he will chew along with us, even though he clearly has nothing to chew. I love it when he's eating his own food. He'll get a bite of nearly-liquid pears that clearly doesn't need to be chewed, and he'll continue opening and closing his mouth long after swallowing the bite, like he's chewing it carefully. I'm quite sure he chews all his food now because he sees Daddy and Mommy chewing and thinks that is just what you do when you eat, even when the food is runny enough to not need chewing. I think it's also a sign that he's ready for more solid food, more like what Mommy and Daddy eat.

And now the sappy moment of the day: Patrick's fussiness is starting to finally go away (thank goodness!), and it is being replaced with clinginess. It's not an I-don't-feel-good clinginess either, but an I-love-you-Mommy (or Daddy) clinginess. Yesterday he actually let me rock him quietly for a few minutes! Today as I put him down for his morning nap, he gave me the sweetest hug. It may have been his plea not to go back to sleep, but I think he was just telling me he loves me in the only way he knows how. I have no idea how long I stood there by his crib with his arms tightly around my neck and one hand buried in my hair--not to pull it, but just to hold me close. I was reluctant to finally put him in his crib, but he seemed happy to be there too, as though he had gotten what he wanted from that hug and was now ready for bed.

I Like Shiny!

Lately Matt and I have noticed Patrick developing a real affinity for bling. When I change his diaper, he grabs at my hand and my wrist, specifically to get my wedding ring and watch. He often does the same thing to get Matt's wedding ring, class ring, or watch. It's probably just that the shiny is attractive to him because it's different. I suppose it's also possible that he just wants to grab at our hands, and these shiny spots on our hands make something interesting to grab for.

I realize the story isn't that interesting. It was mostly an excuse to use this title. It's kind of a family joke. I forget the exact circumstances of how it started, but it came from Matt's boss. On some personality test (I think that's it), one question asks your favorite color. One of the choices is "shiny." From there, it developed into the phrase, "I like shiny!" to indicate someone less than brilliant who would list shiny as their favorite color.

I worked really hard yesterday to get some more interesting shots. I love the ones with his sippy cup that came out. In the first one, it looks like he's trying to play peek-a-boo with it. This shot below was specifically to show his profile. I never realized quite how massive that forehead is, nor how prominent his chin is.

Yesterday, Patrick had another bad spit-up day. I don't think he likes squash as much. It had been awhile since he'd had any, so he must have forgotten that it agreed with him last time. As I fought the frustration at cleaning up yet more spit-up, I realized something. As bad as yesterday was, it was still light-years better than his good days from several weeks ago. One or two fairly large spit-ups in a day used to be unheard of; five or six was more typical, and that's not even counting the numerous small ones. That certainly helps put things in perspective when I get grossed out about smelling like sour milk (or carrots, or squash, etc). It's clear that we've come so far. I need to stop worrying about the current small spit-up, because it's been so, so much worse, even a few short weeks ago. And I am quite certain now that we are on the downside of the spit-up phase that has lasted far too long.

Some of you may have noticed that I almost always center the pictures I post. It really isn't simply a stylistic choice I've made. I've seen other blogs that have pictures on the right or the left and wrap text around them, and I've been wanting to do the same thing. For some reason, I just couldn't get mine to do the same thing. Then all of a sudden today, it dawned on me that I had never tried the right or left buttons in the upload pictures box. "Hmm," I wondered. "What happens when I do this?" And voila! It works. Why didn't I try that earlier?

"Don't even think about taking
my sippy cup!"

A New Addition to the Family

No, it's not what you think. In fact, it's more of a happy-sad event because we have not merely gained a new family member, but replaced one.

Last night I said good-bye to my Christmas present of '99:

This 1999 purple (umm, silver plum) Saturn was the only car I have ever owned. My parents were very generous and helped me buy it when it became apparent I would not be able to finish college without my own wheels. Shortly before meeting Matt, I had completely paid off the car. I had also saved up enough that I could have bought a new car, but I hesitated to do so, mostly because I'd never bought a car before and didn't trust myself to get a good deal. My car was reliable and perfect for me in my situation, so why go spend all that money? It turns out to be a good thing I kept my trademark purple car. Money was a bit tight for a while after Matt and I got married, and we were very grateful to have one car completely paid for.

When gas prices started to skyrocket--about the same time Patrick got home from the hospital--we decided it made a lot of sense for Matt to drive the Saturn back and forth to work. It got much better gas mileage than the Pontiac G6 he'd bought while we were dating, and he preferred to leave the safer G6 for me to drive if I needed to take Patrick anywhere. After a few weeks, though, it became apparent that Matt wasn't particularly fond of my purple Saturn. It was great for a college girl, or even a single female teacher, but not as much for the working man employed at an industrial plant. I think he took much more ribbing for driving a gay purple car than he ever let on.

Between the Saturn's deteriorating interior and Matt's discomfort (yet selflessness) with driving it, we decided it was time to replace the Saturn if we could. Matt spent part of Saturday at our local Saturn dealership working out a good deal on a brand new Ion. Last night we signed bunches of papers and drove home in this:

A little less gay, huh? Matt's infatuated. I'm kind of fond of her myself. She's quite a bit classier and much safer as a family car. Now, how do I convince Matt to drive the less gas-economic car and let me have this beauty?

Cat Whisperer

As promised, here is the picture of Patrick playing with Cathy's cat Kocha (pronounced Koach-kuh). He'd reached over to her coffee table and grabbed the cat's bright blue collar. I think he liked the sound of the bell as he bammed it. Of course, what cat can resist something like that dangling in its face? She watched it super carefully and batted at it any time it was close to her and farther away from Patrick. It was really interesting watching the two of them playing. Patrick was much more gentle with the cat than he is with most things, only petting her when I helped him gently touch her. The cat was careful with Patrick too. She usually plays with her claws out, but she refused to use them around Patrick. It's as though they somehow both realized they were people/cats to treat with care. Based on Patrick's love of animals, I'm starting to wonder if we should call him the Cat Whisperer (or Dog Whisperer).
I'm still debating whether to call my doctor. The lump finally went away last night, but that spot is still the tiniest bit tender. The fever went away about the time the lump did, too, so I'm not feeling too bad today. If the lump comes back or another one develops, I'm definitely calling the doctor to get antibiotics. Otherwise, I may just let this one slide.

I didn't sleep very well last night between the residual pain and an allergy attack I've been fighting for several days, so I think I'm going to keep this one short and sweet so that maybe I can sneak in a short nap while Patrick's napping.

Again

After that lump went away yesterday, a new one popped up in a different spot of the same boob. I woke up this morning in extreme pain, and it hasn't gotten any better all day. I just started spiking a fever too. I guess I'll be calling my doctor tomorrow, and I'll likely end up on antibiotics.

Patrick's been fussy again too. I think--and hope--it's still teething pain. He hasn't had a fever at all, and those eyeteeth are definitely coming in. I just always worry when he grabs at his ears, even when he's teething.

On the bright side, the spitting up is much better again today. It's easier to tolerate his fussiness and clinginess, even when I'm sick, when he's not drenching me in spit-up every few minutes.

Because I'm not feeling great today, I'll have to postpone a more detailed update until tomorrow, as well as those pictures I promised yesterday. You'll definitely want to check back then; who can resist a kitty and a baby in the same picture?

See Yesterday's Title

This time it's me going through a bad case of deja vu. I spent yesterday moving very, very delicately, to avoid angering the lump in my boob. It just won't stay away. I've completely lost count how many times this is now. Fortunately it again went away on its own earlier today, but it still feels a little tender. I always expected my main motivation to wean would be teeth marks in my boob, followed closely by Patrick's desire to move on. Nobody ever told me the pain of repeated breast infections or clogged ducts would be much worse than the occasional bite. Less than two more months...

The spitting up is getting better again too. It was the weirdest thing yesterday, though. He hadn't spit up much all day, even when leaning over really far right after eating, which is the fastest way to make him puke. Then I moved him carefully into our room and laid him on his back on our bed while I got his medicine ready. Almost as soon as his medicine made it into his belly, the spitting up began. It looked suspiciously like the medicine caused the tummy problems. Isn't that backwards? I thought the medicine was supposed to prevent that, not cause it! It hasn't happened since, but I'm hoping that means he doesn't desperately need the medicine anymore and that we can start weaning him off it before long.

And I wonder if Patrick is a boy genius. He is without a doubt a boy, eager to make noise with anything and a mess out of anything. Dinnertime is a favorite for him. He has started playing with the plastic lids to his Gerber food containers while I feed him. They make good banging toys apparently. He also watches like a hawk for when I drop any of his food off his spoon onto the high chair tray. He takes that drop as an invitation to reach out his hand and smear the food everywhere. Last night, though, I unintentionally gave him a good problem to solve: I dropped some of his green beans much too far back on the tray for him to reach. He had to smear that drop, so how was he going to reach it? He stretched out the hand with the lid in it and smeared it with that. He seemed satisfied that he had done his job, as he left it alone after that.

Patrick and I spent this afternoon across town at my friend Cathy's place. I think I'll probably tell the fun stories from that tomorrow, as well as insert the cute picture of Patrick playing with her cat. It was a fun afternoon, though, and I think we all had a good time. Patrick and the cat were certainly entertaining.

Here are the many faces of Patrick during yesterday's photo shoot:

The yawn

The snarl

The toothy grin

The toothy cry

The tongue

Here We Go Again

Anybody remember several days ago when I hesitantly mentioned the spit-up was getting better? I hadn't updated since because I was afraid of jinxing myself. Apparently avoiding the topic didn't help anything because yesterday ended up being a bad spit-up day.

It started when about half an hour into his usual marathon afternoon nap, Patrick woke up crying. I attempted to ignore him at first, hoping he'd go right back to sleep, but the crying only escalated. I finally gave up and checked on him. He'd rolled over onto his belly and couldn't figure out how to roll back over. He was also swimming in a nasty wet spit-up spot on the sheet. It didn't look like he would be going right back to sleep, so I let him get up and play. While he seemed pretty happy part of the time (see pictures below), he would occasionally act like he didn't feel good and then spit up again. My pretty white shirt had orange sleeves within an hour, and I smelled suspiciously like vegetable beef. I suspect it was a bad reaction to his lunch, since he hadn't had vegetable beef in a long time. He seems to be feeling a bit better today, but he's still spitting up more than he was earlier in the week.

The fussiness is continuing too. I think the teething is killing him this time. He grabs at his ears a lot and will randomly start whining or fussing at any time, even if he was perfectly content just minutes before. I think these teeth in particular hurt more as they come through, and to complicate matters, I think as they come in, they are pushing his front middle teeth together to sort of close the gap. I remember how much it hurt me when I had retainers and braces to close gaps, and I bet it hurts much worse when that pain occurs along with the pain of cutting teeth.

On the bright side, though, Patrick has been increasingly vocal in the last few days. He still only has his one word, mama, but he's been repeating it almost any time he wants to tell us something. I think right now he uses it for "mama," "more," "dada," "I want out of bed," and simply a way to get our attention. Sometimes if I say "mama," he will mouth it back to me, although he won't say it out loud when he repeats me. He's starting to say either "poo" or "boo" as well. I'm not sure which he means, but I'm going to laugh really hard if his next word is "poo-poo." To change it up sometimes, he will just squeal. During lunch today he was having a blast squealing at Daddy and listening as Daddy imitated the squeal exactly as Patrick did it in the first place.
I got very lucky yesterday and caught a couple of short video clips of Patrick repeating "mama" while he was playing in his ExerSaucer.

Mr. Personality*

Aspects of Patrick's current personality that I hope grow with him through the years:
1. His persistence
2. His devotion to me and his daddy (and anybody else he claims as his own, such as grandparents and aunts and uncles)
3. His love of animals
4. His infatuation with music
5. His problem-solving ability (just watch him play with his toys or feed himself Cheerios)
6. His inability to hold a grudge
7. His sense of humor
8. His sensitivity to the feelings of others around him
9. His complete and utter trust in me and his daddy
10. His ability to make anything a toy (think of all the money he can save us...)
11. His willingness to grin so easily
12. His innate ability to flirt and gain the attention of women
Aspects of Patrick's personality that I worry may cause problems as he grows older:
1. His persistence (with my stubbornness, it could turn into a test of wills)
2. His sensitivity to the feelings of others around him
3. His ability to make anything a toy (no, Patrick, not the scissors!)
4. His lack of fear of anything
5. His easygoing nature
6. His innate ability to flirt and gain the attention of women
7. His need to always be moving when he's awake--almost hyperactivity

Possible careers I can see in his future:
1. An engineer like his daddy
2. A musician
3. A veterinarian like his uncle
4. A doctor
5. A teacher
6. A counselor
7. President of the United States (every parent thinks that, right?)
8. A computer programmer, or something else that has to do with computers (the genetics are certainly there)
9. A writer

*with apologies to my siblings' college friend who bore the unfortunate nickname, unbeknownst to him

Hotel California

I half-expected to feel more inspired to write knowing my words were going to end up in that beautiful new template. Yes, my words look much prettier there, but I can't see that when I type. As a result, I'm unexpectedly hit with a case of writer's block.

Perhaps it's time to explore those thoughts about my brother's move across the country. I've been avoiding this post in part because my thinker's been somewhat defective over the past few days, as I've been plagued with a killer headache. Yesterday it escalated to the point where I was completely unable to function for several hours, and I couldn't find anything to help it at all. It came back again this morning, but it's not as bad yet as it was yesterday, so maybe I'm feeling just good enough to try this post I've been avoiding.

So my brother and his wife are headed to Kowl-ee-faw-nee-yuh, as their beloved Governator would put it. Jen (by the way, happy belated birthday) is from California. Her family still lives there, in the same area where Dave and Jen have jobs. Until they can find a place of their own, they will be staying with her parents. For Jen, this is really a move back home. I'm thrilled for both of them that they have jobs they are looking forward to and that they get to go be with family. I'm excited that they get to live in California--Malibu to be exact. It just sounds ritzy. And now I have a reason to visit Malibu!

I can't help but feel a little selfish about the whole situation, though. Up until this weekend, my whole family lived within a five-hour radius around Dallas. Even Matt's parents live within that radius. If we were in Dallas, we could easily see anybody in the family with one reasonably short trip in any direction. We had mini-reunions regularly, even for occasions as mundane as the State Fair. I'd never given the situation much thought, and a part of me expected things to always be that way. My mind recognizes that families, especially ones as large as ours, tend to get scattered from coast to coast easily. My mom's family of the same size is literally scattered from California to Maine. Yet, somehow it has caught me off guard that my family is quickly headed in that same direction. What's to keep my sister and brother-in-law from moving to the east coast when he graduates with his graduate degree?

No longer will my baby brother be able to hop in the car for a last-minute trip to Dallas. I won't be able to see him almost any weekend we happen to be at my parents'. That easy three-hour drive from Abilene has turned into an expensive several-hour plane ride. Hanging out with my brother will turn into a huge event, not a commonplace occurence. They say absence makes the heart grow fonder, so perhaps I'll cherish those times when we can get together that much more. Still, in the meantime, I think I'm going to miss my baby brother and my new sister-in-law.

Ch-ch-ch-changes

So how long do you think I can continue using lines from songs as relevant blog titles? I give it about two more posts.

Anyway, for you entirely unobservant people, I've changed my blog template. I figured it was about time to personalize it somewhat from the generic blogger one. Comments? Suggestions? I'm starting to figure out some of this html stuff, so if you have suggestions, let me know, and I just may be able to change it. At the very least, my much-more-technologically-minded husband may be able to talk me through the change (or do it for me). By the way, I found the new template at Miss Zoot's site.

Time Marches On

Yesterday it suddenly hit me that my baby is gone and sometime in the last few months was replaced by a little boy. He's still a pre-toddler, but definitely isn't that tiny baby I first met. His face has lost most of its babyness, and he's starting to move his body more like a toddler than a baby.

Mostly, though, it's his personality. I don't remember him having much of a personality when he was really little, just little things like being comfortable on Daddy or wanting to sleep swaddled. Suddenly now he has all sorts of distinct preferences and dislikes. He surprises me every day with a new talent or a new facet of his personality. Today's was an innate ability to use the guilt complex to persuade me to give him parts of my lunch. No baby can deliberately assume that look of pleading and sorrow on his face. (By the way, it worked. He got a couple of bites to see what he was missing. I don't think he liked it much, as he immediately went back to his fruit puffs.)

I see him as a little boy when I watch him play. No longer does he merely bat at toys, but he grabs them and handles them with deliberateness and much greater delicacy. He shows a great curiosity about his toys too. I can just see what goes through his mind every time he grabs a toy (or any object that he deems a toy, such as the remote control): "And what will this one sound like when I bam it?" That thought is immediately followed by, "And now what does it taste like?" His almost complete lack of interest in toys from a few months ago has been replaced by an obsession with anything that he thinks looks like it might be fun to play with.

I'm expecting another explosion in his development soon too. He seems to be on the verge of many new talents, such as crawling and articulating more real words. Throw in his fussiness from the last few days that I don't think is completely caused by teething, and I expect him to surprise me with something new at any moment.

The new signal that he's growing out of his babyness that I'm most excited about is the waning spit-up. Just yesterday and into today, the volume of spit-up has decreased greatly. I can only remember one big spit-up in probably two days, and only a couple of little ones. I'm reluctant to put it in writing for fear that I'll jinx it, but I really think the combination of his medicine and his incredible growth and development over the past few days has finally gotten the problem under control, at least better than it ever has before.

I fully expected to miss having a baby around once I realized Patrick had grown out of that stage, but I'm finding that I really don't miss it. Sure, it would be nice for him to be as cuddly as he was when he first came home from the hospital, and for him to want to sleep on us like he used to. But if he stayed as a baby, I'd never get to know this perfect little boy he's growing into. I remember saying when Patrick was about six months old that I thought that was the perfect age. Yet every month I amend that statement in my mind; that month is the age I wish he could stay. I love him more each month with all the new changes that the month brings, and I couldn't imagine him being any other way or any other age.

Finally I downloaded the last few pictures off my camera--after taking more of Patrick yesterday afternoon.
Here's Patrick and Nana during the banquet on Thursday night, before he fell asleep on her.
Patrick is playing on the floor at Nana and Grandpa's. You can see Grandpa in the background. He had been playing with Patrick, mostly tug-of-war with that ring in his hand. (Sorry I don't have any better ones of you, Dad. This is the only one that turned out well at all.) Patrick is watching Nana here. I can't remember what she was doing that kept him so interested.


And these are the best pictures from yesterday of my little boy. He really does look like a little boy, not a baby, in that second picture, doesn't he? By the way, he was gritting his teeth in that picture, which explains the goofy expression on his face.

Not Your Typical Hickie

Patrick made me want to cry just now. He was getting fussy, so I was holding him and playing with him, trying to get him to stay awake longer. He did his usual thing of pulling himself close to me and hiding his face in my shoulder. It's the sweetest thing, but sometimes he decides to "kiss" my shoulder while he's there, and it's not so much fun when those kisses include teeth, like this one did. The other times he's bitten my shoulder, I've screamed, "Ow!" which is my instant reaction, and then put him down. Today, though, I reacted by screaming and then giving him a little swat on his diaper and telling him, "No! You don't bite Mommy's shoulder!" I held him back from me so he could see my face to tell I was serious. While looking into my eyes, his lip did the pouty thing that he hasn't done in a while and then quivered, and he started crying. I felt so rotten for punishing him harshly enough to make him cry. The mommy part of me pulled him to me and held him close, comforting him. The logical, teacher part of me realizes that if it affected him enough to make him cry that maybe he understood this time. This side of me can see the hickie on my shoulder that still stings and recognize that I did the right thing, as much as it hurt.

Ummm, I remember having several more stories to pass on today, and suddenly now I can't think of a single one. I guess I can confess what a bad mother I've been the past few days. Patrick is filthy; he hasn't had a bath since Friday. And he hasn't worn any clothes at all since we got home on Saturday night. It was warm enough in the house that I stripped him down right away and left him as a diaper baby ever since. He's enjoyed practicing the whole velcro thing the last couple of days, as he's managed to work that diaper at least partway off twice already today. I've been very lucky that he left all the important parts covered. Yes, I am planning to bathe and dress him when he wakes up from his afternoon nap. Maybe I'll even take a few pictures, if I can catch any during those few minutes he actually stays clean after a bath.

I'm still planning to download the pictures on my camera, but I haven't gotten around to it yet. I'm also still planning a post about my brother's move to California, if I can figure out exactly what I want to say about it. In the meantime, I guess I should put up that clean laundry sitting in the middle of the floor and put that pile of sheets back on my bed. (Yes, all you who know me...be amazed that I am actually staying busy doing housework!)

Playing Catch-Up

I've been fighting to get in the mood to blog all day, and it's not working. So I'm blogging anyway.

It's just been one of those days when we've all been working to catch up on all the stuff we missed doing while we were gone, like doing the lawn and sleeping. I slept until noon, Matt took two afternoon naps, and Patrick pretty much slept all day long. I hope it was enough to be ready for a return to the normal routine tomorrow. Poor Matt having to go back to work after a week away.

Since I'm not really in the mood to tell long, drawn-out stories about Patrick from the past few days, here's the short version of his new antics.

1. He's so close to crawling. He can lean over really far while sitting and still pull himself back to a sitting position. He can also throw his upper body around a lot more than he used to be able to. His favorite, though, is stretching really far while we're holding him, leaning over to grab a toy he sees. While doing tummy time on his blanket tonight, he was able to pull himself forward several whole inches while reaching for a toy. He's sooooo close!

2. He's getting better and better at feeding himself. Most of the time, the Cheerios and fruit puffs make it into his mouth, not on the floor, and on the first try. He can eat them faster, so he eats many more of them too. He went through most of a container of fruit puffs during the week we were gone, when before he had eaten from the same container for weeks.

3. His new favorite game is BamBam. Now when he bangs a toy against the floor or his high chair or carseat or even his leg, I say, "Bam," and he giggles and laughs. I gave him just one more reason to love banging his toys.

4. Now that he's teething new teeth, he's pulling at his ears a lot more. It's actually kind of cute, especially when he's tired, because he'll pull at an ear, then rub his eyes, and then grab at his hair. I feel mean calling that cute because he's obviously uncomfortable, but it really is adorable. Anyway, I don't know if this is related to the teething or not, but he's been grinding his teeth. It makes an awful noise and looks painful. Has anyone else's kid done this, or is it something I should be concerned about? I'm guessing he's just experimenting with what he can do with his teeth.

5. I have to go fold laundry. I probably have several more new things to tell about, but maybe I'll remember them by tomorrow. Maybe I'll also have pictures downloaded by then.

Road Weary

Yeah, I know. I've actually slacked off on blogging the last few days, which means I have mucho to catch everyone up on. The problem is that I just got home from a looooong afternoon and evening of traveling, and I'm exhausted. I'm not nearly ready to download pictures, so the few I have will have to wait until tomorrow.

Here's the short version of Thursday and Friday. Patrick and I woke up early on Thursday and packed up all of our stuff and then left shortly after lunch to ride with my parents to Abilene. We checked into the hotel, rested for a few minutes--too few--and then got ready for a banquet with my brother's classmates.

The banquet was nice, and miraculously (or due to Nana's touch) Patrick behaved quite well the whole time, even falling asleep on Nana's shoulder for about an hour. Anyone who knows Patrick knows that is a rare occurrence. He was quite entertaining during the time he was awake too, especially while he was eating. I appreciated Nana taking over so much of his care for the evening so I could devote more of my attention to my brother. I've always felt bad that I had to miss so much of his wedding because of a fussy baby, so it meant a lot to me that I could be there for him this weekend.

We got back to the hotel late, with one very tired baby and one almost as tired mommy. My "comfortable" dress shoes I'd been wearing had rubbed huge sores on my baby toes, and the time we spent at my brother's house after the banquet caused my allergies to act up (ok, technically it was his dog, whom I can't help but love even when I can't breathe around him). It made for a frustrating night, but we were still all up bright and early to go help Dave and Jen pack up and move*.

I'll be honest. Patrick and I didn't do much--any--moving. My parents were kind enough to let us both go get a nap after breakfast and then join them for the packing extravaganza around lunch. Naturally, that time coincided with Matt's arrival in Abilene, so the reunion took precedence over helping them move. I could probably write pages and pages about what it was like to see Matt again after a week apart, but I think the smile that couldn't be wiped off my face the rest of the day says it all. Patrick was just as elated to see his daddy. He may not have screamed, "Daddy!" for the first time or taken his first few steps to run to him, but he wouldn't let go of Daddy's neck for the longest time. I could barely sneak in to give him a hug. I think it's safe to say Patrick remembered Daddy.

We were moving me from the fold-out bed in my parents' hotel room to a room at a nearby hotel that I would be sharing with Matt the next night, so we skipped out on the afternoon packing session to make that move. Matt's parents showed up around the same time and checked into the adjoining room. They were going to watch Patrick during the evening so that Matt and I could attend my brother's graduation without having to rush out to comfort a fussy baby. Again, I had the opportunity to be there for my brother, uninterrupted by Patrick. It means a lot to me that my new parents were so willing to travel several hours to spend the evening, night, and next morning with us and Patrick. From what they told us, it sounds like Patrick thoroughly enjoyed his time with his grandparents. They were even kind enough to let Patrick sleep in their room for the night so that we wouldn't disturb him when we returned late at night. Even when he got to see us the next morning, he still clung to his grandparents too. It's like he couldn't decide who he wanted to hold him the most. I'm thrilled that he now instantly recognizes all his grandparents and is eager for their attention, even going out of his way sometimes to get that attention.

This morning we packed up and got ready to leave Abilene, had a quick lunch with Matt's parents, and then got on the road to drive back to Houston. We took it slow, making plenty of stops so that none of us would get too tired of driving/riding. Still, we made it back at a decent time. Patrick, unfortunately, hadn't had enough sleep in probably three days, so we were hoping the drive would lull him to sleep for most of the trip. He did nap more than he did on either of the other longer trips of the week, but it wasn't enough. I have a feeling he will sleep most of the day tomorrow. He was so happy to see that crib when I left him there tonight. I think I'll be just as eager to crawl into my own bed too. As I always say at the end of a trip, as much as I love visiting everyone and changing the routine, there's always something extremely comforting about home.

Ok, enough pointless rambling for tonight. I'll try to tell some of the cute Patrick anecdotes from the last few days tomorrow, now that I've reported the basic events. Yeah, I think tomorrow's post will be much more interesting.

*Dave accepted a job at Pepperdine University in California--Malibu to be exact (I know, what an awful location). And he left today, just a day after getting his master's degree. Talk about a busy weekend! It was quite a task to fit everything they needed into two cars and a U-Haul trailer. Perhaps I'll give some thoughts on this move tomorrow. Not tonight. I'm too tired tonight.

It's About Blogging Time

It's been a comedy of errors, technology-wise, around here today. First, my parents' wireless Internet just suddenly stopped working, and I couldn't get it working again. My dad fixed it when he came home from work, so I decided to blog then. Naturally, that was the exact moment blogger went down for maintenance (or something), because it stopped working before I even got started writing. I guess that's better than losing a blog anyway, isn't it? Now I'm trying to upload pictures to go with the blog, and it's not really working. All I can see right now are three little boxes with x's. I'm hoping by some miracle they'll still appear on the blog when I publish it, and if they don't, I'm not messing with it tonight. It took much patience to get as much as I have, and I'm just about out of patience for now.

Very little has happened since blogging yesterday. Patrick has continued to be fussy on and off. I've narrowed it down to three possible theories:
1. The change in routine, especially yesterday's, has thrown him off schedule sleep-wise, and he's overtired.
2. He misses his daddy.
3. He's teething.

As much as I'd like to convince myself that it's number two, I think three is the most likely right now, although it could easily be a combination of all three. It's really hard to tell, but I think today he cut the second tooth from the middle on the top right. He won't let me get a finger in there far enough to feel for sure if the tooth is through the gums; he tries to bite me every time. I think it will go in his baby book as today, though. It's close enough.

Patrick has done pretty much all the same cute things, nothing new to tell everyone about. He gets really excited when Nana and Grandpa come home from work. He especially loves just staring at Grandpa. He tried to imitate Grandpa waving during dinner. Maybe with a few more days around Grandpa, he will have mastered the wave. Wouldn't that be a cute way to greet Daddy on Friday? With a wave (and preferably calling "Daddy")? Yeah, I know, not likely...but I can still hope.

The countdown is down to about a day and a half now until I get to see Matt again. Tomorrow will be a busy day too, so maybe I won't miss him quite as badly. I can do this! Of course, it doesn't exactly help that the last few days I've been reading books (in a series) where the main character's husband has to be gone for work regularly, and she often discusses how difficult it is for her when her husband is gone. I know my situation isn't nearly as bad, but I still know how she feels. It's not a good reminder.

Ok, on to the pictures that may or may not actually be there. This is Patrick playing with a combination of his own toys from home and the toys Nana keeps here for him. You may notice the beautiful quilt he is playing on. This is my mom's version of our floor quilt, made by the same woman from my mom's church, specifically for Patrick. Isn't she a wonderful quilter?



Update: Patrick looks remarkably like a red x in all these pictures, as does the beautiful quilt. Apparently the pictures didn't upload right. Can anybody else actually see them? I'll just try the pictures again tomorrow, I guess. In the meantime, enjoy the beautiful red x's.

The Silver Lining

As I sit here listening to Patrick scream as he avoids a desperately-needed nap, I wish I could call Matt and let loose all my complaints on him. This is tougher even than I imagined, so I guess I should take a Pollyanna perspective on the matter and try to look at the bright side. So what's good about not having Matt around?

1. I get that huge queen-sized bed to myself and don't have to worry about kicking him when I roll over in the middle of the night or having him steal my pillow.

2. I get way more of Patrick's hugs and kisses.

3. I finally learned how to install a carseat since Matt uninstalled the seat out of our car before he left, but the new car it was going in wasn't home at the time. Now that I know I can do it, I'm not as dependent on Matt to take care of that every time.

4. I got a much larger portion of the shells and cheese pasta I love so much at dinner last night.

5. I can take advantage of all those free incoming and evening minutes with all the phone calls to and from Matt.

6. Ummm...I can't think of any more. How sad is that? I miss my husband.

Patrick has been a good kid, other than this nap fiasco. He thoroughly enjoyed when I helped him pet Dusty, my parents' old and senile cat. I was worried about him petting too hard, especially because even when Dusty was more "with it," she was liable to scratch at any moment. With my hand guiding Patrick's, though, he was able to pet her gently, and they both seemed to enjoy it. Patrick loves animals and shows absolutely no fear of them. I think it's sweet, but I hope he learns soon when he can trust animals and when he can't, before he learns the hard way.
The other big event from today was a visit with my friend Shannon. We've been friends since college, but had lost touch when I graduated (I'm bad about that). We rediscovered each other through blogging, even back before I started my own blog. We were both pregnant at the time and expecting within weeks of each other. It was great having a pregnant friend to share experiences with, even though we didn't get a chance to see each other until today. She also lives in the Dallas area, so we made plans to get together for lunch. It was a great time. Her daughter Audrey is adorable. (By the way, Audrey is exactly six weeks younger than Patrick.) It was a lot of fun catching up, talking mommy talk, and watching our babies interact. Although the kids only eyed each other from time to time during lunch, we let them get closer to each other when we were all done eating, and they seemed fascinated with each other then. Audrey reached out for Patrick's face, and Patrick didn't even flinch. Patrick never took his eyes off the pretty girl.

Shannon and Audrey

We took the kids outside for a quick photo shoot on the grass outside before we left. Don't they look adorable together?
And this was my favorite moment. Patrick kept putting his hand on Audrey's back. It was such a sweet gesture, even if he was just curious about how it felt. I think he was just showing he liked her. It was completely worth the long drive across town to see Shannon and Audrey. I'm afraid it will be another long stretch before we get to see them again, but maybe now that I know the drive really isn't that bad, I'll be willing to head that way again the next time we visit my parents.

Ten Months

My dear Patrick,

Today you turn ten months old. I can't believe it. It sounds so old, like you're no longer my little baby but a little boy instead. Now that you've hit double digits in months, you're close enough to that first birthday that it won't be long until we give your age in years instead of months. You're growing up so fast! Slow down a bit. I'm not ready to be the mommy to a toddler.

This has been a huge month for you developmentally. You started out the month trying desperately to balance sitting up, with Mommy worrying about you because you couldn't sit up yet at nine months. This month finds you sitting up all the time like a pro, and instead Mommy worries about how you're not crawling yet. You are making progress in that area finally, though. Just in the last few days, you've thrown your body around into new positions that remarkably resemble the crawling position. As soon as you realize it, though, you lay your head down to pretend that was your plan all along. I think you're as afraid of taking that step of crawling as Mommy is. I know there will be a mad rush to finish baby-proofing the second you crawl for the first time. The problem is that I'm not sure exactly what needs to be baby-proofed. As soon as I see what mischief you're eager to make, I think I'll have a much better idea what precautions to take.

You have also made drastic improvements with your fine motor skills. I have so much fun watching you play with your toys. You can manipulate almost anything to do what you want it to do. It's also hilarious to see what you have determined must be a toy. Just in the last few days, you have found cell phones, remote controls, cats and dogs, a wooden spoon, a spatula, and even a metronome, to be great sources of entertainment. Remind me again why we spend money on brightly-colored plastic toys. Oh, yeah, they also provide endless hours of entertainment. I hope you are always able to be so content with such simple toys.
Yes, this is my new shorter haircut. It looks nowhere near as great as it did when I left the salon (although we all know it would never look that great again), but at least you can see the new length.

This morning was a sad morning, Patrick, although I think the drama missed you entirely. Daddy left us to go on a business trip to Austin. This is the first time he has left us overnight since that first night after you were born. That night he left Mommy to try to sleep in the hospital and he went to stay in a hotel room with Papa and Gigi so that maybe he could get a good night's sleep as well; neither of us had slept well the night before, with you causing Mommy so much pain all night. I don't think you even noticed Daddy was gone that night, although Mommy certainly did. I've never been so lonely; I didn't even have you in my belly for company any more. The best moment was when we reunited the next morning. I had gone to see you in the NICU for the first time early that morning, and just as I was preparing to leave to get some more rest, Daddy showed up by your warmer. Suddenly I saw Daddy as more than just my husband, but also a wonderful, loving father as well. That is a moment I will always remember.

I can only hope that on Friday when we're reunited with Daddy again, it will be just as sweet as that moment in the hospital. I was relieved this morning when we watched Daddy pull out of the driveway and waved cheerfully at him that you didn't understand what was happening. I'm glad you didn't know why Mommy's cheek was wet when you reached up to touch my face or why I couldn't talk much with you for the few minutes after. I'm glad you don't understand that you won't see Daddy again for several days, and I hope you don't even realize how much time has passed when we see him again. Yet I also hope that you don't forget Daddy in that short time and welcome him again on Friday with excited squeals and a big hug. I have a feeling Mommy will welcome him similarly. I'm trying my hardest to focus on that day when we get to see him again and not how much I miss him now, while he's gone. It's nice having you around to distract me from my loneliness. In fact, I really can't be lonely at all when I'm chasing you around, trying desperately to keep you entertained. I just don't know how I'm supposed to fight off the loneliness when I crawl into a huge, empty bed tonight with you sleeping soundly in the other room.

I love this picture I got of you and Daddy yesterday. I love how you're looking at each other, sharing a moment. (I also love how it looks like you're trying to play guitar with that spatula.) Please don't grow too much or start doing too many new things in the next few days. I don't want Daddy to miss even one moment of your development. I know he's going to miss you just as much as we're going to miss him. I don't know what we'd do without Daddy around, and this week is a great reminder of that.

Enjoy your ten-month birthday, Patrick. We'll really celebrate on Friday when our loving little family is back together again. Mommy and Daddy love you.

Love,

Mommy

Stripping Stories

Amazingly enough, the title is almost exactly what you think it is. We made it to church this morning (oddly, it's always easier in Dallas; maybe I'll delve into why later this week), and the service definitely held our interest. Patrick wound up in the nursery pretty early into the service because he was hyper and restless. I think he preferred playing with the other babies--and pretty nursery workers. What a boy!

In a way, it was great that he was in the nursery, because Matt and I were able to concentrate on the sermon much better without trying to distract him the whole time. And the sermon was definitely worth paying attention to. The speaker today was the intern that had been working with the youth group this summer (incidentally, I'm pretty sure he's the younger brother of a guy I went to college with). The point of the sermon was to emphasize that our "Sunday best" has nothing to do with clothing and that we should give our Sunday best to God and everyone around us every day of the week. To make his point, he slowly stripped out of his nice suit through the course of the sermon. I can say without hesitation that was the first time I've seen someone strip at church. (Don't worry. He stopped with a T-shirt and long shorts.) I was astonished at how composed he was as he stripped off a shirt or his pants, not even losing track of what he was saying at the time. It was definitely an unforgettable sermon.

Patrick was fussy when we got home from church, so he took a nap right away, forcing us to eat at home instead of out as we'd intended. He was happy when he woke up, though, and thoroughly enjoyed his late lunch, even trying pieces of real banana! He loved it, and I think that will become a new staple in his diet. (He ate a bean at dinner tonight too. Boy am I glad I'm not sharing a room with him.)

I got really sleepy mid-afternoon and headed to my room for a nap while Nana watched Patrick. He was sweaty after wearing his church clothes all morning, so Nana let him be a diaper baby for his nap later. While in his playard, he decided to show off one of his favorite tricks for Nana, and she and Matt found him a bit later with his diaper mostly removed. There were wet spots on the sheet, so we had to quickly do a load of laundry before time to put him to bed. Patrick apparently also chose today as a good day to strip.

I'm sure there are more stories from today too, but again I'm tired. It's weird not sleeping until noon-ish. At least tomorrow I can return to a more normal routine, even though it's going to kill me when evening comes and Matt doesn't. I don't know how I'm going to make it almost four full days without him. I hope Patrick stays super cute the next few days so I can avoid those otherwise inevitable emotional posts about how much I miss him.

And here are the cute pictures from today:

Stupid blogger. It won't let me upload my pictures. Check back tomorrow. I guess I'll have to include them then, if blogger is cooperating by then.

Traveling Odds 'n' Ends

We left early this morning to head to Dallas. Ok, almost 10:00, but that's early for me, especially on a weekend. It's been a crazy day ever since then, which is why I'm just now blogging, even though we were here before three.

The trip itself was uneventful. Patrick didn't sleep much in the car like we expected, although he was happy the whole way, so he napped as soon as we made it to Dallas. On the other hand, I was out of the house almost as soon as we got there. I went with my mom to her hair appointment and got a haircut myself. Pictures to follow as soon as I can get someone to get pictures of me--maybe tomorrow when I'm spiffied up for church.

Despite Patrick's drastic change in routine, he was remarkably charming. I wonder if the lack of sleep made him so silly instead of cranky. You know how we used to get at slumber parties about three hours after we were supposed to turn out the lights and fall asleep? He hit that giggly stage, and it was quite entertaining.

Patrick loves being the center of attention. He was happiest today when all eyes in the room were focused on him. He wanted to be passed from one pair of arms to the next, around and around the circle. He definitely remembered Nana and Grandpa, and was even excited to see his Uncle Dave who was in town for the afternoon. I doubt he can remember Uncle Dave, as they haven't seen each other since May, but they hit it off famously. Since it's been some time since I got pictures of uncle and nephew, that's what I decided to post today. Oh, yeah, some of them also have his cousin Jack in them. As soon as he saw this not-so-tiny puppy leaping toward him, he reached his hand out and giggled. I don't think we'll have any problems with him being afraid of dogs.


Jack apparently loved getting to see Patrick too. I think it had something to do with the fact that he was allowed to vacuum up all the Cheerios that missed Patrick's mouth at dinner.

I'm sure there are tons more cute moments from the day, but I'm tired and ready to go crash in bed. Sorry, the pictures will have to satisfy your cuteness quota for today.

Friday of Randomness

1. When Patrick was playing with his toy snail earlier, he bruised my hand. He was playing BamBam with it as usual and pounded it on the back of my hand. One of its little hard plastic antennae came crashing down right into the spot on the back of my hand where the bones from the first two fingers meet. I remember screaming, "Owwww!" at the same time that everything went black (I think I closed my eyes). All I remember for the next few minutes is intense pain, worse than labor--seriously. I've never felt anything like it. At some point, Matt grabbed Patrick off my lap, I guess so he wouldn't do it again. I don't remember much at all until I looked up to see Matt clearly worried about me. That's when I sucked it up, dried off my tears, and took Patrick back from him. About then, the pain started to fade. Now I can barely feel it at all, just slight achiness in my fingers every so often. It's hard to believe that such intense pain can disappear that completely and that quickly.
2. Our cable is out. Is this to prompt me to actually start doing stuff around the house--maybe to get ready to leave for the week tomorrow? I hope the TLC withdrawal isn't too acute.

3. Oh, yeah, we leave tomorrow to go out of town. Matt has a conference in Austin, one that would be foolish for me to attend with him. He'll be busy until late at night every night, and the location is different from before, so I would be stuck in the hotel pretty much all day every day--with an active baby, no less. But I would be terribly lonely here, so we came up with a plan for me to leave for the week too. He's going to take me to Dallas this weekend and leave me to spend the week with my parents. They'll be working during the day, but at least I'll have their company in the evenings. I'll also accompany them to Abilene at the end of the week to attend my brother's graduation from graduate school. Matt will meet me there. Things have worked out really well for me not to spend the week alone. I'd been worrying about what I was going to do for ages, so I'm glad that we finally have a good plan.
4. Last night Patrick went in for a real kiss. He was standing on my lap when he reached his hand out to the side of my face. He gently touched my cheek and then leaned in, a perfect 90-10 that would do Hitch proud (remember that movie?). He opened his mouth at the last minute and gave me a sweet open-mouth kiss right on the lips. We don't typically kiss him on the lips much; any moment is a likely moment for spit-up to come gushing out of his mouth. That makes it even more sweet that he chose to kiss me that way. I may need to have a talk with him, though, about when open-mouth kisses are appropriate. Weird. I didn't think I would need to have that talk for another fifteen years or so. (Let's face it. He's bound to be a little slow in the area of dating, with me as his mom.)
5. I have been having the strangest dreams lately. Last night teaching entered my dream for the first time in a long time. I was quite unexpectedly offered a teaching position teaching freshman English. I politely turned them down explaining that I wasn't ready yet this year and then launched into a discourse on the perils of teaching freshmen. It was really weird, and weirder yet that I remember as many details about it as I do.
6. Patrick has been unusually vocal today. Some of it has just been whininess, which is what I'm listening to right now, but he's been trying out new sounds part of the time too. I've heard a couple of mamas, some ama's and mma's, and the occasional bah or gah. I love how seriously he says them. It's not like the random chattering baby talk I'd always imagined; he says these words with utter seriousness, as though he is truly trying to convey some message to us with these words. I'm starting to wonder what he's saying and where I can find a translator. Maybe he's found the meaning of life or the secret of nuclear fission and can't find grown-up words to tell us.