Progress

Something about that bump on the head must have knocked something into place. Ever since that incident, Patrick has shown great progress.

We noticed it first on Thursday night. He was playing with his toys. Matt and I watched as he picked up the yellow star from his shape sorter and eyed the yellow star hole on the shape sorter that just happened to be facing up. He seemed to consider it for a moment, then he reached over and tried to place the star in the star hole. He couldn't quite manipulate it right, but he knew what he was doing. Every time Matt or I offered him a different shape, he would toss it to the side, but he kept trying the yellow star in that hole.

The next morning, he mastered the concept again with the red square. Again, he eyed the shape and the hole first, comparing them to see whether his plan might work. This time when the shape didn't drop neatly in, he fiddled with the square for a few seconds until it did. He still doesn't spend his whole playtime sorting shapes, but he clearly understands what the purpose of it is.

It also suddenly dawned on him the other night that the rings don't just come off the ring stacker; he can put them back on too! I got a couple of videos of him putting the blue ring on the stacker over and over again, eager to hear Daddy's applause each time. He has yet to figure out that he can stack more than one at a time, but at least he is making progress on that concept.

Unfortunately the knock on his head didn't suddenly teach him how to crawl, though. Maybe I should have dropped him on his head a little sooner!

In other news, Matt and I went out for a date (technically, a date-with-a-baby) again on Thursday night. I think we've unoffically decided that's our date night, since it's less busy than Fridays. I was in the mood for a particular dish at Black-Eyed Pea, so we headed there. We regretted that decision over the next hour or so, though. It started when they gave us their new menus--without the meal we'd come to the restaurant for. I chose a second choice off their very limited menu and pretended to myself that it really sounded good.

An hour later, we finally get our meals. Our waitress had forgotten to put our order in to the kitchen, so all the tables that had gotten there about the same time we had were done eating by the time we got our food. The food itself was less than quality. We ate very little and turned down to-go boxes. It was a huge disappointment. We would have complained, but our waitress had already made it obvious in the way she treated her tables around us--all of whom had complaints as well--that she didn't care. Eager to get a now-fussy Patrick out of there, we just shrugged, gave her a pathetic tip, and left. We will not be going back there any time soon.

To make up for our bad experience Thursday night, Matt suggested we get Boston Market last night--similar food but we wouldn't have to eat there. Despite a snail's-pace drive-through, we were still home and finished eating in much less time than it had taken us at Black-Eyed Pea. The best part was that the food was awesome.

Today we spent the day relaxing and watching football. We support Texas Tech's Red Raiders, and it was a rare treat to have their game televised. It turned out to be a great game. There was lots of action, a tight score, and the best outcome. That's the kind of September Saturday I'd been looking forward to.

A Hard Lesson for a Hard-Headed Boy and His Hard-Headed Mother

I was on the phone with my mom while Patrick played yesterday afternoon. Admittedly I wasn't paying as close attention to him as normal, but I wasn't ignoring him by any means either. He was getting fussy and needy playing on the floor, so I took him outside, my last resort that always calms him down. He squirmed right off my lap, and while still on the phone with Mom, I helped him sit on the concrete floor of the patio. I don't know why he's so fascinated with sitting like that.

My legs happened to be behind him the way he chose to settle. Apparently he decided it was time to feel Mommy there again because he leaned back against my legs. Unfortunately, I had shifted my legs moments before. That means when he leaned back, he missed my legs altogether and fell flat on his back on the ground, banging the back of that hard head on the concrete.

Every time I've taken him outside over the last few weeks, I've been paranoid about this exact scenario. I've taken precautions every day so that I can be behind him at a moment's notice to catch him if he happens to start falling. I had visions in my head of that little head cracking against the concrete and breaking open. Those pictures included blood everywhere, a screaming baby, and usually a trip to the emergency room.

Even distracted by the phone, yesterday was no different. How much more protection can I give him than having my legs inches away from his back? My feet were solidly on the ground, providing a stable enough, soft enough wall for him should he choose to lean back. Still it wasn't enough.

I moved my legs. It didn't matter that I'd protected him; it didn't matter that my legs were about to go back to the exact same protective position. He chose that one moment of vulnerability to test Mommy's promise to always be there to catch him, to keep him from getting hurt.

In the first moments of that horrible screaming, I wished I'd never made him that promise.

I want him to trust me, to know that I'm going to do everything in my power to keep him from getting hurt. But a part of me knew it was foolish to promise "always" even when I made the promise.

Patrick's hurt was short-lived. Within a few minutes of Mommy holding him and walking him around, he was fine, chipper as usual. He spent the next half an hour comforting me, making a point to prove to me that he was fine and that the bump wasn't going to do any permanent damage.

I'm afraid the permanent damage was done to me, though. I never imagined it could hurt so much to know my child was hurt. I take the blame too, for not being there when I'd promised him I always would be. I learned the hard way that I can't always be there to prevent Patrick from getting hurt. Moments will come when those legs or hands aren't in position to catch him like both of us expect them to be. I can't baby-proof his life to the point that he will never get hurt, and it's ridiculous of me to put that burden on myself. It will hurt in unimaginable ways when he does inevitably get hurt, but those moments have to happen. How else does he learn what he can and can't do?

And I learn too that being a good mommy isn't about keeping him from every hurt but being there to comfort him when he does.

Bouncing the Bunny

Yesterday Patrick decided he was going to see what it was like to not take any naps. (Definitely NOT my idea, by the way!) He delayed going down for his morning nap and still woke up at the exact time as normal--within about a minute anyway. As I was napping too, I can't guarantee he slept; he was quiet, though, which suggests that was the case. His afternoon naptime came, and he went down for it easily. Almost an hour later when I went to take my shower, though, he was still talking loudly in his crib. He was still talking (or talking again) when I got out of the shower. He might have slept for the twenty minutes I couldn't hear him, but I doubt it.

I gave up and got him out of his crib. We went about our normal afternoon routine, and about the time he normally takes a short evening nap, he started getting fussy and clingy again. I put him down for another nap. He definitely did not fall asleep this time, and I gave up and rescued him after almost an hour.
By the time 7:00 rolled around, he was more than ready for bed. Usually we keep him up until about 8:00, and sometimes even later, but he was so exhausted last night after not napping all day that 7:00 probably felt all too late to him. He dropped right off to sleep.

I expected him to sleep that extra hour this morning, waking up at the normal time. Nope. He was awake by 7:00 this morning when his daddy checked on him. He went down for his morning nap later than even yesterday and still woke up at the exact same time. I don't have high hopes for his afternoon nap.

I have two theories for the sudden change in sleep patterns. One is the obvious, that he is finally growing out of the need to sleep 16 or more hours each day. I knew it was bound to happen eventually, although I suspected it would be a more gradual transition than all of a sudden in one day.

The other theory is the more likely one. He discovered a new toy yesterday, and he refused to let go of it for either of his afternoon naps. I relented and let him take it to bed with him. I think he was too busy playing with it to want to fall asleep. It did not follow him to bed last night or this morning, and I'm not letting him take it to bed this afternoon either. We'll see if my theory is correct.

So what toy could possibly be so wonderful that Patrick refuses to let go of it for anything but bathtime (and then only reluctantly)? It is a stuffed toy my mom sent in an Easter care package when I was in college. It was goofy then, so I decided to keep it. I never imagined it would become my future child's favorite toy. It is a bunny rabbit, sort of, with a bright pink butt, and it squeaks...or squeals...or something. It's actually pretty hard to describe. Here, just watch the video. You'll figure out soon enough exactly what the appeal is.

Say It, Don't Spray It

The last few days have been much better as far as the clinginess goes. Apparently the worst of that phase is over. He will play by himself again, although he still seems to prefer it when I'm closer. He still wants me to carry him around when he gets tired too, but he's more independent the rest of the time. I like this compromise much better. Although he still wants to cuddle with me, give me big baby hugs, and be held, he wants all that in moderation. He gives me more space than before and isn't needy about it when he wants to cuddle. I'd rather he wants to cuddle instead of needing to.


As I"m typing this, Patrick is avidly watching TV. We've found one commercial that the usual channels we watch play over and over and over. And for some reason, Patrick is hypnotized by it. Any time it is on, Patrick can't turn away from it. I can't distract him from the TV with any toys or food. It's so funny to watch. It also gives us a nice break when he's fussy or upset. Even then, he'll stop everything, even the crying, to stare at the TV.


The funniest story from yesterday happened at bathtime. He'd finished bathing and was still sitting in the tub playing with his rubber ducky. I drained the water out of it while he was still in the inflatable tub because I've found that the cold air on his wet butt encourages him to give up his rubber ducky with less of a fuss. He's more eager to get out of the tub and get warm again that way. He's still fascinated with watching the water drain, too. Once most of the water had drained, I was working behind him to seal the plug back in the drain in the inflatable tub. At the same time, he leaned forward to slap the floor of the tub; it had a different feel with the thin layer of water left on it. The problem was that he was a bit gassy. That's right...he let out a huge fart, while my hand was right behind his butt. The air picked up flecks of water left in the tub and sprayed them all over my hand. I never want to feel a wet fart straight out of his butt again, even if I do know why it's wet.

Treading Water

Patrick sorted a shape today! That's right. He picked up the blue circle shape and dropped it right through the blue circle hole. It looked deliberate, enough that he didn't seem at all surprised that it went through. He looked at me like I was crazy for getting excited for him. He hasn't repeated it since, though.
That truly is the only progress he has made recently, though. At less than two weeks from his first birthday, I am beginning to get discouraged. Over the weekend, Matt caught some video of Patrick trying to crawl. I've been debating whether to post it, because while it is funny, it's really very sad. This video closely resembles the tummy time video. He's on his belly doing nothing but screaming. Now he can slowly squirm a few inches backwards, but it doesn't satisfy his desire to be mobile.

I sometimes wonder about his desire to be mobile too, though. He acts much of the time like he couldn't care less whether he can ever move anywhere on his own. He's happy whining until I pick him up and take him where he wants to go.

When Matt and I try to help him crawl at all, he gets angry and upset. He doesn't want us to put him on his belly, no matter what our intentions are. But he'll roll over onto his belly happily on his own all the time now. He just screams at us if he decides he doesn't want to be on his belly anymore and can't or won't roll back over on his own.

I've wondered if maybe he just isn't physically capable of crawling, so I've tried encouraging him to try to walk instead. Not only does he refuse to try standing on his own, clutching at my hands, hair, or anything within arm's reach to hold himself up, but he won't move his legs at all when he's standing up. He'd rather fall on the floor when he's standing at the table (see picture above) instead of moving a foot an inch or two to keep his balance.

I know I have to keep in mind that all babies progress at their own rate. It's just that I already worry about him being so far behind. I don't know of any babies without serious developmental delays that aren't at least crawling at a year. Many are already walking. I know I need to factor in his prematurity, but even then, nearly all 9 1/2 month-olds are crawling too. Patrick is making no moves indicating crawling is even in the near future.

It's very discouraging to me to see the utter lack of progress he is making in almost every area. He has gotten no better at manipulating that sippy cup; he still needs my help to tip it up far enough to sip out of it. I still have to stay close when he stands at the table because of how often he falls. He even still falls while he's sitting once every day or so. We haven't even bothered with moving his bed down a level; it's at the exact same place it was the first time he slept in it. Why bother if he doesn't even pull himself to a sitting position on his own? It's not like he's going to suddenly find a way to climb out.

I don't know what to do, if there even is anything I can do. I feel helpless, unable to do anything to help him get ready for crawling or walking. It's not like I'd really know what to do if there was something. His doctor wasn't worried the last time he saw Patrick, so I suppose I shouldn't worry either. Still...I can't help it. I'm his mother, and that is a major part of my job, after all.

I'm sorry for the "woe is me" post today, but this is what has been on my mind lately. I'm worried, and I can't keep posting only the fun stories and thoughts about Patrick when that's not really what's going on.

Random Thoughts

Time for the random things I want to say today:
1. Yes, the pacifier is back. He rarely ever gets it in his mouth the proper way, but it seems to make a great toy. He plays with it instead of using it for comfort, but hey, at least we're getting our money's worth out of it now. It also seems to make a decent teething toy, as he seems to chew on it more when those reluctant teeth seem to be bothering him.
2. You may notice something unusual about this picture. Did you find it? Yes, indeed, those are long sleeves he's wearing. This tractor outfit is size 3-6 months, but about the time he started growing into it, the hot weather hit. It seemed a bit too cruel to make him wear a heavier long-sleeved outfit in August. We had a cold front come through the other night, though, and I decided it was just cool enough for him to get one wear out of it before it has to be retired. Maybe today he can wear his dinosaur onesie, the other rarely worn long-sleeved outfit of the same size. I guess it's time to start collecting long-sleeved clothes of the next size. Even most of them still have short sleeves. Between the unpredictable Houston weather and his unpredictable growth, it's hard to guess what kinds of clothes and what sizes he'll need when.
3. As you can see, we found a new-old toy for Patrick yesterday. He desperately wanted Daddy's water bottle, and since he hadn't played with one in ages, we handed it on over. He played with it with Daddy for a long time, giggling the whole time. By the time he finally started to lose interest, we decided to make the toy even more interesting. We spent all of five cents on it by dropping five pennies in it. Now it wasn't just a water bottle; it was a water bottle that made noise! What could be better than that? It's the cheapest and most entertaining toy ever. We won't let him play with it unless we're right with him, though. We're both a little concerned he will suddenly figure out the mysterious concept of the twisty lid and choke on a penny. While that is not likely, we'd rather be safe than sorry.

4. Finally, I want to apologize for the mini-drama that took place in yesterday's comments. While it's not in my nature to say anything, I am glad Matt stood up for me and said what I wouldn't say. I'm aware I'm a first-time mom, far from perfect, and liable to make all sorts of mistakes. But it still hurts to have someone clearly imply I'm not doing my job well and then not have the guts to put their own name to their accusation. Most of you probably don't even realize this has been going on for quite some time. I ignore the comments, and I've even deleted several, but it's time to address the issue head-on.

If you are truly concerned with something I am doing with Patrick, then please don't hesitate to say something. Don't do it in public, however. There is nothing to be gained from calling me out in front of all my readers. I have my e-mail listed in my profile, and it does not bother me if you use it for that purpose. If I am doing something to endanger my child, I would like to know before some disaster occurs. My other request is that you do a little research before accusing me of such mistakes. For example, it doesn't take much research to discover that not only are sippy cups widely used, but most doctors even recommend them as a transition into using a normal cup. They do not affect the incoming teeth, no matter what is put in the cups, as long as the liquids are not exposed to the teeth for an extended period of time, such as overnight. For that reason, it is recommended not to put a child to bed with a sippy cup, the same as is recommended for a bottle. In fact, sippy cups so closely resemble bottles that many of the same bottle rules apply. And since obviously it's ok to feed a child milk from a bottle, why wouldn't it be ok to use a sippy cup?

Every similar comment "anonymous" has left so far has not only been wrong, but had this person taken the time to think about their accusation before typing it, they would have discovered that. In a way, the comments don't entirely bother me because they're so obviously wrong, but I like being right so much that I feel as though I at least need the chance to defend myself. By leaving a hit-and-run anonymous comment like that, I can't directly address the commenter to ease their worries about my parenting abilities, and I hate having to bring attention to both the comment and the commenter. It seems as though I was left with little choice this time, though, and I apologize for exposing all the rest of you to the drama.

Let the Weaning Begin

This past week, Patrick has suddenly lost interest in nursing two out of his four nursing times in the day. Instead of latching on and focusing on me, he will suck for a few seconds then turn away, distracted by something--anything--else. Sometimes he actually screams at me if I try to turn his attention back to nursing.

I've decided it's best not to fight it. I'll still continue to offer to let him eat those two times per day, but if he won't eat, I won't make him. He's apparently decided now that he's nearly a year old that it's time to start weaning. As a result, we picked up some whole milk for him at the store the other day. He got his first introduction to it yesterday, and he loved it. I think at first the different taste combined with the coldness of it freaked him out, but he ended up loving it, drinking it more quickly than he ever drank juice out of a sippy cup. He didn't have enough to replace nursing altogether yet, but I like that he's starting to transition that direction. It's ok with me if he takes his time, though; I think I might actually miss the breastfeeding time when it's gone.

Yesterday afternoon, Patrick pulled his random fussy thing again, so to find a way to distract him, Matt and I took him to the park. We tried one that we used to live right next to but never once actually went to. It wasn't nearly as busy as I expected for a Saturday afternoon. This park turned out to have extensive walking trails, so we headed out walking. It started sprinkling as soon as we got there, but it wasn't a bad shower and couldn't possibly last long. We just walked with an umbrella. A few minutes later, we found ourselves back where we had started. The trail we had chosen was a small loop. As it had just stopped raining, we dropped the umbrella back in the car and headed out on a different branch of the trail.

This time we walked for what seemed like hours. That trail felt like it would never end. Although Matt and I were getting sweaty from the nasty humidity, Patrick was loving it. He kept flailing those arms and kicking his legs and chattering away...although what exactly he was saying or who he was talking to, I'll never know. When he started to get tired, he would just lean his head back against me for a minute (I was carrying him in the Bjorn).

When we got back to the car, we were all exhausted and ready for the air conditioner. Patrick went right down for a nap when we got home, and I followed his cue and did the same. All that fresh air and exercise put me right to sleep. The park made for a fun family outing and a great way to keep Patrick from screaming at us for quite a long time. We're already making plans to do it again sometime.

Alone, Not Lonely

For the first time since Patrick was born (that I can remember), I am at home alone--truly alone. Matt took Patrick with him on an errand to the Man Store (aka Home Depot). It's so weird to be here completely alone, without my little guy napping in the next room or anything. At the same time, though, I'm loving it. I feel relatively carefree for these few minutes. I don't have to keep an ear open for his cries from the other room. How weird that my responsibilities are almost non-existent for the moment. I'd almost forgotten what that felt like.

What's sad, though, is that I can't stop thinking about my guys, wondering if Patrick was happy in the car without me next to him, picturing them walking around the store, Patrick strapped to Matt's chest. How is Matt handling coping with Patrick as well as finding what he's looking for, carrying it to the check-out, and paying? I know from experience how complicated that can be, if Patrick decides to make it that way. Has Patrick done anything cute or adorable that I should have been present for?

I've been complaining to myself for days that I wanted a break from Patrick. And now that I have it, all I can think about is him (well, and Matt). I feel like I'm wasting my few minutes alone!

A Dinner Out

On a whim, last night we went out to eat, at a real restaurant, not fast-food. It took a really long time to get our food, and I worried about Patrick finishing his food too quickly and getting restless. Apparently that wasn't a worry last night. He was so distracted by all the activity around us that he ate without realizing he was doing so. Even after finishing his Gerber's food, he continued to play with and shovel his Kix (we were almost out of Cheerios) into his mouth for ages. I have no idea how he managed to stuff so much into his tiny belly.

He even made room for some food off our plates. I gave him pieces of my garlic toast, which he enjoyed immensely, and Matt fed him several French fries. I'm not sure Patrick recognized the first one for what it was; real French fries aren't anything like the few he's tasted before from Whataburger and McDonald's. He played with it happily but wasn't eager to put it in his mouth. Then Matt got his attention, and Patrick watched while he put a similar French fry in his own mouth. The second the fry hit his mouth, Patrick opened his and started moving his fry there as well. The next time we glanced over at him, the whole fry was gone. And it definitely wasn't on the floor. Yes, actually the French fry was that good, and I'm glad we are raising our son to value quality fries.

Our waiter was unusually attentive too. He actually creeped me out just a little. When he would come check on us, he would put his hands on the back of Patrick's high chair and lean over really far. I kind of wonder...It was laundry day, and I was wearing one of my designated "laundry day shirts," one that I wouldn't typically wear out of the house. Since we had decided last minute to go somewhere, I hadn't bothered changing. This particular laundry day shirt was a bit more low-cut than normal. Unaccustomed to being around people other than Matt and Patrick, especially in a low-cut laundry day shirt, I found myself assuming less-than-demure positions several times during the meal. I had thought nobody caught the couple of glimpses of cleavage (yes, I actually have cleavage now! Breastfeeding isn't all bad.) that I flashed accidentally, but now I wonder if the waiter didn't see something I didn't intend and hovered and leaned far over Patrick and me to see if he could catch another glimpse. That would explain the creepy vibe I got from him. Most likely he was just a little weird and I'm giving myself too much credit. But at least I got to brag about my cleavage in a relatively subtle way.

Matt had to stay at work late on Wednesday night for another one of those meetings, so his boss decided to give him those extra hours back. Today he came home for lunch, and didn't go back. I love that our weekend started a half-day earlier than I expected! We may actually do something with the few extra hours this afternoon. We'll have to see what Matt and Patrick feel up to after they wake up from their afternoon naps.

Focusing on Cuteness

Patrick's still defying me at every turn and then clinging the rest of the time. I'm either coaxing him to be independent or chiding him for being too independent. Although I can see the humor in it, it's still incredibly frustrating. So instead of talking about it yet again, I'll focus on the cute stories from the past few days.

For the first time ever, Patrick sat on my shoulders. I thought he would be scared, but as long as I held onto him, he loved it. He could reach the fan chain from there quite easily, and that is his newest obsession. I was being so careful with the way I held him so that he could balance, though, that my neck started hurting quickly. I hope it will be easier when he gets a little bigger and those legs dangle farther down, giving me an easier handhold and making him balance better.

Another of his obsessions these days is bamming on the coffee table. He stands in front of it quite well, but he hasn't mastered the art of cruising around it. If he leans too far one way or the other, he won't move his foot to regain his balance; he just falls instead. Because of that, I stay close any time he stands at the coffee table. Yesterday we had fun playing with the fact that the top is glass. I put my hand up underneath the table, and he chased my hand around from the top, giggling the whole time. It looked like he was giving me a high five when he bammed the table where my hand was underneath. He did the same thing to Daddy earlier too. I wonder if he's starting to understand the concept of glass.

Patrick's bonding with his best friend, otherwise known as the Baby in the Mirror.

Yesterday at lunch, Patrick did something that struck me as cute, so I leaned forward and booped his nose. (You may remember this. We've been booping his nose since his NICU days. It's where we touch the end of his nose and say, "Boop." I don't think he finds it that humorous, but he puts up with it.) He put his hand out toward me, with his index finger out, like he does when he wants to poke at something. Even though the hand was slimy after being in his mouth, I leaned forward to see what he wanted. He reached forward and booped my nose! Of course, I had to make the noise, but it was clear that was his intent. The slime was totally worth it.

More fun with photo-editing

Butting Heads

Ack. Did you know that leech on my front is really a little, tiny person? With a mind of his own? How did that happen? Oh, yeah, it probably stems from when I was little. I'm sure my mom cursed me: "When you grow up, you're going to have one just like you." At least that means I'm quite adept at reading his mind:
You want me to open my mouth to eat that cereal? Then no matter how hungry I get, there's no way you can get me to open my mouth. In fact, I'm going to do that teeth-gritting thing you hate so much instead. I can't believe you snuck that spoon in my mouth! Well, to get back at you, I'm not going to let you have the spoon back. And there's no way you're going to make me swallow that cereal!

Now you want me to eat my favorite food, banana? Uh-uh! Instead, I think I'll smush the banana in my hands and smear it everywhere--but it's not going to make it in my mouth!

I can't believe you just put me on my belly to make me try crawling! Listen to me scream instead. Look, I'm so mad at you that my legs are trembling. But as soon as you leave me alone in my crib, I'll flip to my belly and push myself backwards with my hands all around my crib. There's no way I'm letting you think I actually like it on my belly, though! Or that I'm basically capable of crawling.

You want me to teethe on that weird new thing you call a pacifier? Well, it does look like a neat toy, so I'll grudgingly take it from you. But don't think I'll figure out how it's supposed to go in my mouth. I'd much rather chew on a finger, preferably yours, Mommy. And if that doesn't work, I know how to scream.

I hate you Mommy! I can't believe you're trying to make me do the very things I want or need to do! How dare you! Now hold me--all day long. NO, don't put me down! Who said you could eat? Or go to the bathroom? What am I supposed to do without a hand in your hair?
I think we have the makings of a hellacious toddler on our hands. I don't even want to think about the trouble he'll get himself into once he starts crawling and has infinitely more ways to defy me available to him.
But he's still so darn cute that I don't usually even want to put him down, even when he's tried my patience one too many times in the last five minutes. It's killing me to discipline him, even in the little ways I've had to so far, but if he thinks his will is strong, he's messing with the wrong Mommy. Where do you think you got it after all, little man?

My Son, the Cat

Maybe he's so good around animals because he is one, at least in part. Last night must have been a cat night. Daddy was holding Patrick and tried to get him to grab his hair the way he grabs mine. He leaned his head down so that Patrick couldn't miss the hair. Instead of grabbing the hair, though, Patrick leaned his head back into Daddy's, rubbing his cheek hard along his hair. It very much resembled the way a cat marks its territory by rubbing up against a person's legs.

I think sometimes he simply wants to create a bald spot on my head by pulling all the hair out in one area. Some moms lose lots of hair after giving birth, and when I didn't, Patrick wanted to make sure it happened anyway. By the time he grows up enough to not be carried everywhere, I'll probably be missing whole chunks of hair along my hairline on my right side, otherwise known as his handhold when he's in my arms.

Today has been another rough day dealing with a baby who is bound and determined to do everything Mommy says not to do. Breakfast took easily twice as long this morning. I had to persuade him to open his mouth for each bite (even though he was screaming for food until I had it in front of him), and then persuade him to open his mouth again to stop biting the spoon. He managed to spray flecks of rice cereal all over the kitchen and me by fighting with the spoon. It was a very tedious process.

Now that it's almost a birthday, it dawned on me yesterday how few pictures I have of Patrick in his birthday suit. The few pictures we do have are all of a wet Patrick sitting smugly in his tub. It seemed like it was about time for a different kind of picture of naked Patrick.

My Last Nerve

I must have woken up on the wrong side of the bed this morning or something. My patience fuse is about a millimeter long, and Patrick is doing his darndest to light that fuse in a record amount of time. It's like he knows exactly what drives me crazy and focuses all his time and energy on doing those things, and none of the cute ones.

Although I suppose if I were in a better humor, I might find his attempts to be so annoying kind of cute instead.

It started this morning when he woke up crying before my alarm went off to wake him up for medicine. Waking up to crying is just as jarring to me as waking up to an alarm. Patrick had decided at some point during the night to sleep on his belly, and he woke up in the despised position and unable to roll over (he can roll over, really...but he panics and forgets how when he's actually on his belly). That meant I had to leap up and rescue him right away.

Then when all I wanted to do was go back to sleep, Patrick decided it was time to play, even though there were no toys around and he was just as exhausted as I was. The remote control was a toy, and I had to wrestle it out of his hand before he set it to play only in Spanish or something. Then the spoon for his cereal was a toy; he bit it every time it left his mouth. When he did the same at lunch, I just gave up and let him play with the spoon. It meant he didn't get to eat again until he handed the spoon back to me, but I decided those were fair consequences. Even at his age, Patrick understood Mommy couldn't feed him more food if she didn't have the spoon. It was slow going, but he ate his fill.

By far the worst thing he's done this morning, though, is grit his teeth. He goes through phases with it, where he won't grit them for a week or so and then all of a sudden start up again. Today the teeth gritting is incessant. As soon as I can tell him no and put my finger on his lips or in his mouth to make him stop, he's gritting them again. That is one of the most obnoxious sounds in the world. I absolutely can't stand it, and I think Patrick's learning that.

Ok, the truth is probably that his teeth are bothering him since he's still working on those next two teeth. He's not deliberately trying to bug me but is trying to ease the pain in his mouth. It just has the unfortunate coincidence of falling on the same day that I woke up without any patience. Knowing that doesn't make it any easier for me to handle, but it helps me work harder to hold my temper in check so that I don't take it out on my poor teething baby. If I thought he was doing any of this on purpose, though, it would be time to start disciplining him, young as he is.

Praise the Lord!

As you may have guessed, we made it to church this morning...somehow. And it only looks like Patrick did the preaching:
He must have thought he was preaching, though, the way he kept talking during the sermon. He also thought he was singing during the songs, and only slightly off-key. It was really a good experience. Patrick was well-behaved, but squirmy and talkative. We gave in halfway through the sermon and took him to the nursery. By the time I got him situated and left, the service was already nearly over.
The coolest part is that as I was leaving the nursery to drop him off, I ran into someone I knew. I baby-sat her kids back when I was in high school. There's nothing to make you feel old like finding out a kid you used to baby-sit is now married.

I think we're going to try this church again. When we visited last year, there were red flags all over the place, which is why we hadn't been back since. Now it feels like we mesh with the church better. That year must have made a huge difference with both us and the church. We'll have to see how things work after another visit or two. I'm so ready to be settled in a church.

Wait...September 15?

First of all, the two firsts I forgot yesterday:

1. First whistle. All he has to do is purse his lips and breathe and he can already whistle better than I ever could.

2. First wave. Appropriately, he imitated his first wave hi and bye at the grocery store the other night, around witnesses. It's still hit and miss, but he's trying.

Sometimes now, though, he will wave to mean something else. It finally dawned on me last night as he kept looking toward me piteously and waving that he might associate waving with me, since I'm always waving at him to get him to imitate me, and that he might be calling for me. All I had to do was get close to him, close enough to touch, and he was content again.

Along the same lines, Patrick has been clingier than ever the last few days. Yesterday he couldn't be happy unless I was no more than an arm's reach away, and preferably holding him. He even shrieked when Daddy tried to hold him at one point. He only wanted me to hold him. That moment was both heart-warming and heart-breaking at once. I love that he's so attached to me, but it killed me that he didn't want his daddy, even if the moment was short-lived.

A few minutes after we put Patrick to bed last night, we heard a loud boom right outside our house. The second time it happened, Matt went outside to investigate. I was nervous about it when he anxiously called for me almost immediately. As soon as I got outside, though, I realized he wasn't calling me out of anxiety but excitement. There were fireworks going off at the country club across the street from our neighborhood. Where our house is located in the neighborhood, there's nothing but a big empty field between it and the country club. We had the best view of the fireworks.

We decided it was enough of an occasion to get Patrick back up and see how he reacted to the fireworks. He was perfectly content to sit on my lap and watch in awe. The loud booms didn't faze him in the least.

While we were outside watching, all of our neighbors came out to see what the noises were about too. It was so much fun having an impromptu neighborhood get-together. Of course, we're really not sure as to why they chose last night to have a fireworks show. We suspect that these were left over from the July 4th show that never happened due to weather. One neighbor suggested that perhaps they chose last night to finally set them off because today is Mexico's Independence Day. If they couldn't celebrate America's freedom, then why not Mexico's? Actually, given the high Hispanic population around here, that guess is entirely likely. I wonder if we'll ever know the truth, but it seems we're always up for a good fireworks show, no matter how random it seems.

A Myriad of Firsts

This week has been a week of many firsts, so I thought I'd summarize them today.

1. First invitations to go out for his first birthday party. I didn't cry. I promise.

2. First expression of displeasure that a toy rolled (i.e. was launched) out of reach. I think that scream meant, "Mom! Dad! Get my toy for me! Now!" I'll be SO glad when he can crawl and get it himself.

3. First expression of displeasure at being told no. Surprisingly enough, this is the same scream as in #2.

4. First toy ruined. Our Baby Einstein piano no longer plays well. I blame the dried spit-up inside the toy and the speaker.

5. First time to deliberately deceive Mommy. He pulled the famous pretend to be hungry trick. He leaned in like he wanted to nurse, and while I was distracted making sure he could latch on, he leaned over to grab the laptop cord that he'd hooked with his foot. He knows that one is a no-no (see #3), so he decided to trick Mommy so he could play with it for a few minutes. I don't know whether to be frustrated with him for being deceitful and disobedient or proud of him for being so smart.

6. First time to want to nurse for comfort, not hunger. I was late getting up this morning and he was upset. I thought the poor kid must be starving. Instead, he focused on gently playing with my hair or touching my face, not chowing down like I expected. At least I have one sweet first of the week.

7. First time sitting in the grass.
He was uncertain about it at first, but he didn't seem to mind it. I think he actually liked the new experience once he got used to it.
He kept poking at the blades of grass, curious about them. He yanked at it and got some grass in his hands a couple of times. It was tough making sure he didn't eat it.
Don't you love this color editing Matt did? He's learning such cool stuff about our new photo editing software.

Heart-Warming Moment

My favorite time of day is when Matt gets home from work, especially if Patrick isn't napping at the time. He has learned the sound of the door from the garage into our house opening, and he knows what that means. As soon as he hears that first click, he turns toward the laundry room where he knows Daddy will emerge from shortly, and wildly kicks his legs and flails his arms. He looks up at me usually to confirm that it is indeed Daddy coming home, and then he turns back to watch the exact moment Daddy makes his entrance.

I suspect this is the only time of day when he wishes he could crawl, or better yet, run. As it is, it's all he can do to wait patiently until Daddy can make his way to him and pick him up. I can't wait for the days when he is mobile because I want to see just how fast he can move when he's motivated enough.

That moment he is in Daddy's arms is pure bliss. He immediately throws his arms around Daddy's neck and snuggles as closely as possible. There is no greater exuberance than what he shows when hugging Daddy. After a minute, he'll pull back to look at Daddy's face and then hug him again. If he doesn't feel close enough to Daddy yet, he'll try climbing up him, with the idea that being higher means being closer to him. The best part is that he has a look of such contentment on his face the whole time. This is the moment he's been waiting for all day, and he couldn't be happier now that it's come.

That's Mommy's Stubborn Streak

I think Patrick's going to learn to crawl in his crib. The last few nights he has slept on his belly. Yes, he has voluntarily slept in that position that usually makes him scream until he's hoarse. When he wakes up, he's not unhappy either, and he just "surfs" while on his belly. I wonder if he's figured out that's the only way he's going to crawl, but he will only learn on his own terms. I don't really care, as long as he learns sometime.

Along with this new hankering to crawl, he's learned new ways of using his voice. Sometimes he'll ooh or aah along with me while I'm singing to him. I think he's trying to sing too. But on the other end of the spectrum, he's found a new sound to express displeasure. It's much, much worse than any cry. I'll call it a squawk, but that doesn't begin to explain how awful the sound is. Think Dumb and Dumber, the most annoying sound in the world. And now triple the volume and compact the annoyingness into one loud squawk. Throw in the horrific teeth-gritting that he's recently resumed, and you have a recipe for disaster. He's found our kryptonite. Matt and I are rendered useless until the noise stops. We practically cover our ears and writhe on the floor. I can't wait for the days of "Mom. Mom. Mom. Mom. Mom," if they mean an end to this.

You may notice something new about the pictures today. Recently it has come to Matt's and my attention that all across blogworld, blogs are being ripped off. Matt read an article that estimated as many as one in three blogs has at least the pictures stolen off it and claimed by someone else. We're a little protective about Patrick's pictures, so we decided it was time to start taking precautions. We did not come to this decision lightly. We know all you family rely on this to get new pictures of Patrick. I hate that we've had to add an extra step for you to get these pictures. You're still welcome to these, but they may not be the best for printing and putting in frames. If you see any you'd like though, feel free to e-mail me and tell me which one(s) you want, and I'll e-mail it/them back pronto, without the watermark.

And those of you who read this and have your own blogs that you're worried about, let me know if you'd like directions to do your own watermark for your pictures. I'm hoping tonight to write up the directions for it. My e-mail address is in my profile.
Patrick was oddly fussy and clingy yesterday. I couldn't get any clear pictures of him smiling, but he was good at the serious face. I like how content he looks in this picture.
You may recognize this picture from a few days ago. Matt decided to play around with our new photo editing software to see if he could do selective color, and as you can see, he can. This is going to be tons of fun to play with!

Happy Kid

If only he was always this happy...
Yesterday was a nasty spit-up day. I take the blame for it, though. I didn't get up when my alarm went off at eight in the morning. He ended up getting his medicine a full hour late, and it clearly messed with his system. Even after he went to bed last night, he got sick again. In case you were wondering, stage 3 Gerber's lasagna, the one with all the chunks, looks particularly gross the second time around. I'm also sure nobody's surprised I'm doing laundry today of all days. I felt bad letting him continue to sleep on that icky sheet last night after I found the mess around midnight. If he hadn't been sleeping so soundly already, I think I would have woken him up right away just to get him a fresh sheet.
Now that he's figured out the pincer grasp, he uses that index finger for everything. His favorite thing to do with it is pick at or poke at stuff. In this picture, he's poking at a tiny crumb. He'll push it around and around until he gets tired of it. He particularly likes poking when he's finished nursing. He finds a small area of a different color than the one around it (yup, it's what you think) and poke at it. It makes me somewhat uncomfortable, but he's clearly just playing. After poking, he always looks up at me and grins and giggles. He thinks it's a fantastic game.

In this picture, Patrick was chilling on Saturday afternoon, having a snack and watching football. I think he remembers football from last year, as crazy as it sounds. Young as he was, he was still incredibly intent on watching when it was on TV. As soon as he heard it this year, he focused right in on it as though it sparked some almost-forgotten memory. Either that or he somehow inherited a love of football. Matt doesn't particularly like it (although he'll watch to humor me), and I enjoy it up to a point, so where Patrick found an instinctual love for it, we'll never know.

Longest Non-Update Ever

There's not much going on around here. I apologize now for the lack of an update this will be.

We didn't make it to church yesterday, despite the best of intentions. When it was pushing two in the morning and neither Matt nor I had fallen asleep yet, we suspected getting up in five hours to get ourselves and Patrick ready for church was not a good idea. Neither of us had been feeling great either, and we weren't sure a few--too few--hours of sleep would help enough.

I ended up sleeping until after noon yesterday, except for about an hour when I got up to feed Patrick breakfast. I thought the extra sleep would help me feel better, but the same problems hit again last night, keeping me up until after 2:00 again.

Anybody have any ideas that will help? In the afternoon or evening for the past few days, my legs have started aching. It starts out as mildly uncomfortable, but by bedtime the pain has escalated to the point that I can't find a comfortable position to lie in. I've tried the usual painkillers, and they've done absolutely nothing. I took a long, warm bath last night in the middle of the night, and while that didn't kill the pain altogether, it relaxed me enough that I was able to fall asleep anyway. I have no idea what is causing the problem or how to go about fixing it. I'm desperate for suggestions!

I have even less of a Patrick update today. He has been pretty normal and hasn't really done anything new. The banana-in-the-hair trick from yesterday was the cutest, even if it was kind of a pain to clean. He did it again this morning too. I think he's just makng sure he gets a bath later. I don't know how he would cope if he had to go longer than a day without playing with his rubber ducky.

Oh, yeah, when I was taking pictures a few days ago, I caught a short video of Patrick laughing at me behind the camera. I wasn't even doing anything, but he just kept giggling anyway. That is an example of one of those random silly moods he gets in when everything is funny. This way we can all end the post with a laugh. Actually, the video makes Patrick laugh too. He'll watch them sometimes, totally focused on the baby on the screen. He laughs along with him. It's so adorable. Yesterday when I was playing video after video for him, he suddenly leaned forward and then looked at me with a question in his eyes. I think he suddenly figured it out, that he recognizes that baby, possibly as the baby in the mirror. I don't know that he knows that baby is him, but it was pretty evident that he connected the baby in the video to one he had seen elsewhere.

First Modeling Gig

Introducing the newest thing in baby hair products:

Banana Slime Hair Gel
Not only does it hold all day, but it leaves a pleasant banana scent that lasts for hours!

Failed baby hair products:Fruit Puff Hair Ornaments

Apparently this one was too girly for most little boys, not to mention that parents didn't appreciate its stickiness.

Noggin News

The outfit you see in today's pictures is the second outfit I pulled for Patrick to wear yesterday. The first one was a cute gray onesie that looked just small enough to fit him reasonably well, despite being sized for 6-9 months. I unsnapped the neck snaps and attempted to ease it over his head. It wasn't going easily, so I checked for more snaps--there weren't any more--and then adjusted the angle of the opening over the crown of his head. It still didn't go. Patrick was getting upset, so I gave up and tossed the outfit into his pile of 3-6 months clothes that he's already outgrown.

So there you have it. Before he even got to wear some of his new, bigger clothes, he's already outgrown them. Or rather, his head has.
Also related to his noggin, our little guy is teething yet again. These don't seem to be bothering him as much as the last set, thank goodness. He's only had one or two doses of Tylenol because of it, and this has been going on for about a week. I expect the next two top teeth to break through by this time next week. For those of you who can't see all his teeth in the toothy grin above, that will make a total of six teeth on the top and his two lonely middle teeth on the bottom. The kid's teething like he has to have them all by his first birthday!
There are still moments when I wonder whose kid he really is, though. He may look a lot like his daddy and some like me, but I can't figure out where he gets his love for the outdoors. That has become my last resort when he gets fussy for no reason. I take him outside and either sit on our bench on our front porch or one of our patio chairs on our back porch. He is perfectly content on my lap, even without a toy to play with. Considering any number of toys wouldn't satisfy him in the house, that's pretty remarkable. I think he likes feeling the sun and the breeze and watching the world go slowly by our front porch. His favorite, though, is when we happen to be outside when Daddy pulls into the driveway after a long day at work. He's never happier when he sees Daddy while he's outside.
My favorite times of day, though, are when Patrick gets into an unexplained good mood. He'll smile, giggle, and laugh at almost anything. That totally makes my day, to have him laughing hilariously at me for doing absolutely nothing interesting. I feel like I'm immensely entertaining, when most of the time I know better.

Don't stare. I'm having a bad hair day!
(It's reminiscent of Nick Nolte's mug shot, isn't it?)

Picture Extravaganza

Yesterday I took Patrick's 11-month pictures, which I think turned out great, if I do say so myself. I also got some shots of him wearing his shoes for the first time. Since I don't have too many cute stories to share today, I think I'll just show off all the great pictures from yesterday. And if you get overwhelmed with this many, remind yourself that I narrowed these down from about twenty awesome ones to begin with.

Patrick's standing up to show off his new shoes. Look how tall he's getting!
He was absolutely fascinated with the shoes too and kept playing with them. I think he may have been trying to figure out how to take them off, but it was cute to watch anyway.
He's showing me how cool these shoes are.
Is that a look of wonder or what? He was looking at the ceiling light. I guess that fascination is still there.
I love his grin...and that little curl of hair over his ear. He needs a haircut, doesn't he?
My little ham, able to smile even when he's chewing on his finger

Lucky 11

Dear Patrick,

Today you turned eleven months old. This is one of those forgotten milestones, with no important changes that are supposed to happen on this day. It pales in comparison to the milestone you'll experience next month. But it's important to me still, and I'm celebrating, even if in a different way than we will next month.
You see, I reached a milestone of my own last night, one that it only took eleven months to reach. I was reading one of my new books after you went to bed. I found myself sobbing when the main character lost her baby when she was born prematurely. It takes place in pioneer days when there weren't doctors readily available. From the time she realized what was happening, her baby was doomed. It hurt me like you couldn't imagine as they described her baby, a slightly smaller version of you when you were born, and her pain at holding her baby she'd looked forward to for all those months who never really got a chance at life.

That's when for the first time in all these months I let myself think it: That could have been you, that tiny baby who never got to take a first breath. That could have been me, the mother mourning the loss of the life growing inside her for that long. For the first time, the complete blessing you are overwhelmed me; I felt the full measure of gratefulness for your very presence that I'd been reluctant to admit all along.

Sure, I've grieved for your prematurity, for the problems you've had since then because of it, for the stressful NICU experience, for your still-delayed development. But that time is over. Instead of focusing on how things went wrong, I'm astounded by how much went right. You are a wonderful child, a perfect baby. Whether it's in spite of or because of your prematurity, it doesn't matter. I think that book last night finally helped me come to terms with the manner of your arrival. I may finally have accepted it.
It is now time to move on, to look to your future. Daddy and I did just that last night. We're now thinking beyond that milestone you're going through next month that I can't bear to think about right now. We got you your first Halloween costume. Instead of the non-celebration we had in the NICU last year--with nothing more than a Polaroid of you in an oversized pumpkin hat--we're going all out. Remember that this costume is supposed to be a surprise, though. Don't slip and tell one of your grandmas when we're not around!

You also now have your first pair of shoes, although you have yet to wear them. Maybe later today we'll try them on for size and take some pictures to commemorate the event. You're growing so fast, needing shoes already. You'll be toddling all over the house before we know it--and I'm sure I'll be chasing you with those shoes that you will have pulled off as soon as I could get them on.
Speaking of mobility, you're still not ready to crawl. I think sometimes you want to, but it seems to be too much effort. You'd much rather look up at Mommy or Daddy and ask with those big blue eyes to move you wherever you'd rather be. Of course, you're so laidback still that if you don't get moved immediately, you just find something else to play with within reach. It doesn't bother you if you don't get to go somewhere new.
And I'm finally ok with your reluctance to crawl. In fact, I consider myself truly lucky. I hear so many women lamenting at how quickly their babies grew up. They wish they could have that little baby back again, the one who isn't into everything all the time. I have that baby. I have had that baby so much longer than I ever expected to. You came two months early and then have stayed more like a baby months longer than most. I have what every mother dreams of, the baby who stays that way. I know it won't last forever, and I don't want it to. But I know that years from now I won't miss having a baby around quite as much because I was one of the lucky ones who had one for longer.

I love how you're socializing more and more, though, even with Daddy and me. Your sense of humor is astonishing, especially since you have to make do with just gestures and your one word. Just yesterday you were cooing at your toys, acting like you were having a real conversation with them. I had to butt my way in to see if you would talk like that with me. I asked you, "Which toy is your favorite?" And instead of talking to me, you just reached out your hand for my face. I thought it was sweet at first until you grabbed my glasses. I think you answered my question: I'm not your favorite toy, my glasses are.

It doesn't matter to me. You always seem to enjoy playing with me. Each day I'm more surprised at how much I enjoy playing with you. You are truly turning into good company for me. You're such an entertainer too. You'll do anything to make me smile. I can't help but fall in love with you more each day. I'll close your door at the end of a long day and wonder at how my heart could have grown that much in one day to love you that much more.

I'll love you always, Patrick.

Mommy

No News

Not much of interest has happened since blogging yesterday, so I guess I'll tell a story from a few days ago that I completely forgot to tell.

We were over at Cathy's and I was telling all of Patrick's newest cute things. I suddenly realized I hadn't told her about his new tongue spitting thing yet. I turned to Patrick and said, "Show Cathy your new tongue thing." And he immediately stuck his tongue out and spit. I can't believe he does it on cue now. By the way, thanks, Nana!

Patrick and his daddy. They looked so happy together yesterday--ok, every day, but particularly yesterday.
His first 6-9 month outfit! And it fits! Sorry the picture is awful. This is after much editing too. I don't know what happened. Oh, well, you can see how cute the outfit is anyway (the pelican legs on the other side stick out from the shirt--too adorable!), and you can see the finger pointing thing he keeps doing.

Explosion

Patrick's always been a good pooper. He always goes at least once a day, and usually it's two or three times. Because he's so regular, I start to worry anytime he goes twenty-four hours without a dirty diaper.

Sunday marked one of those twenty-four hour intervals, and I had to resort to drastic measures to encourage him to poop: mixed fruit yogurt. The first time we tried this yogurt, he had the runniest poop he'd had in a while, so we decided it was probably best to save it for when he needed a mild laxative. Now every time he gets a little stopped up, we pull out the mixed fruit yogurt. We'll move on to prunes or peaches if that doesn't work, but we've only ever needed to buy prunes once. Ironically enough, that was the last time he had a major diaper explosion.

Until yesterday. All during dinner, he was straining like he was trying to poop. He was struggling so hard that I was certain I would have to pull out more mixed fruit yogurt again. It didn't seem to have really worked from the day before. I'm glad I waited, though. When I followed my typical after-dinner clean-up routine, I lifted his leg to find any Cheerios he had hidden under there, or up the leg of his pants, his favorite hiding place. Instead of finding Cheerios, however, I saw something much more disgusting oozing out of his diaper. He'd been sitting sideways while he ate and pooped, and the force of the poop had pushed it right over the edge.

I was so relieved I'd found the poop that way. If I hadn't, I would have picked him up and put my hand at that exact spot on his butt to hold him just a few minutes later. It was gross enough to see, but at least I was spared getting my hand in it. Matt couldn't figure out what was wrong when I came hurrying through the living room holding Patrick out away from me at arms' length under the armpits. Since then, Patrick has had two more massive poopy diapers that both fortunately stayed where they belonged.

Patrick has started using his index finger much more. He'll hold his hand like he's pointing often, and he's trying to use it and his thumb to grab things, like Cheerios (the pincer grasp). It's a good sign that he's continuing to develop. I'll hold him near the wall switch to turn on or off his ceiling fan, and he reaches out for it every time now, using that index finger to push the switch up or pull it down. He obviously loves helping out that way and learning how to use his index finger at the same time.

Today for the first time he also showed an interest in moving places on his own. He didn't scream for a few minutes while he was on his belly and instead moved his arms and legs like he was trying to army crawl. When I showed him what an army crawl looked like, he actually started squirming in imitation of me and moved a few inches--mostly backwards. I think he'll be so happy that he's moving that it won't matter if he starts out backwards. I did, and it doesn't seem to have ruined me! Anyway, I think within a matter of a week or two, he will be mobile, even if it is not traditional crawling yet.

More Outings

Blogger really ticks me off sometimes. After trying repeatedly for two days to upload these pictures, it still wasn't working. Then finally it let me if I tried one at a time. How aggravating! That takes forever. I guess it's worth it if it works, though. Anyway, here's the one I mentioned yesterday of Patrick's fun in bed:
Yesterday afternoon Matt and I suddenly decided we had a craving for one of our favorite restaurants, which is of course located all the way across town in our old 'hood. It was a regular during the time when Patrick was in the hospital because of its proximity to the hospital. That means we picked up and drove an hour at a moment's notice just to get dinner. While we were over there, though, we thought it would be best to take advantage of some of the other benefits of being there, like the nice parks and friends. We went to Cathy's first. Matt had never seen her new apartment or cat, so it was fun showing them off. Patrick had lots of fun playing with the cat again too. He definitely remembered her, and I think she remembered him too. Patrick played with the cat collar again and bammed it like he did last time. This time, though, it was clear he was playing with the cat, not the collar. He would dangle it in front of her face to entice her to play with it and then squeal if she did a neat acrobatic flip to bat at it. Again, she was incredibly gentle with him too. I think I got more scratches through my jeans than he got, even with all that exposed skin and paws batting near it. Patrick is such an animal lover, and I love to watch him around animals.
We went to my favorite park in town next. It has some neat walking trails, and a short boardwalk that ends in several overlooks over the bayou. I've always loved that area. It's lost some of its charm, though. Now the overlooks are overgrown with trees, and you can barely see the water from two of them. They are covered in graffiti, and are most certainly places for teenagers to hang out, especially in couples. There were references in the graffiti to certain things that had happened there that made me anxious to leave and want to clean off my shoes as soon as I had, too. Then as we were walking back toward the car, we realized that there were more than birds in the trees. If we looked up at the right time, we could see monster spider webs with the biggest spiders I've ever seen waiting on them. They may have been far over our heads, but I don't like being that close to a spider at all, especially when it's as big as my hand. We rushed back to the car then, trying not to look up as we walked. I'd rather not know if a humongous spider is about to drop on my head. Of course, that didn't work so well. I can specifically remember about six spiders I saw anyway. I'm still cringing thinking about it now.

I guess the only good part about the spiders is that they kept the area from being nearly as buggy as I expected it to be. In a wooded area by a bayou, with several standing puddles around, I fully anticipated leaving as one big mosquito bite. So far, I've only found two small ones on my arm, and none on Patrick, thank goodness.

I wish I'd gotten pictures of the trip to the park, but naturally after making a point to remember to bring it, I forgot. Maybe next time!
Patrick was exhausted by the time we'd finished dinner after the park trip, and he slept most of the way home. He was all too happy for us to put him in bed. I thought I'd feel the same way since it's been a long time since I've had that much fresh air and exercise, but I ended up reading until almost three this morning. Hey, it's Labor Day--I can sleep all day if I want, right? I can just hope Patrick is planning on doing the same!

Check out the belly on this kid! This is one of his biggest onesies, and I think it's about to be retired too. I suppose I'd better get working on washing his 6-9 month wardrobe today. He's growing faster than I can keep up right now. This is definitely a growth spurt.

Outings

I'm beginning to wonder if Patrick's sleep patterns are transitioning from those of a newborn to that of an older baby. Yesterday he slept much less than usual, only about an hour afternoon nap (compared to his usual two hours) and no evening nap. He was in a pretty good mood when we went out to eat at Red Lobster, even though we expected him to be sleepy and fussy. The fussiness did hit when we got to the mall a little while later, and we ended up pushing an empty stroller everywhere while carrying him. Between the walking and trying not to drop a squirming boy, I got quite the workout! He too was exhausted when we got back to the car and dropped right off to sleep.

Oh, yeah, and he was awake much earlier than normal yesterday morning. Matt found him first, and he'd obviously been up for a while, based on the state of his bed. I would show you the picture Matt took of it, but blogger is refusing to upload my pictures today. He had pulled one whole corner of the bumper away from the edge of the crib and created a little fort for himself. He looked quite pleased with himself, like he wanted us to be proud that he had used his wake time so well and hadn't gotten us up too early.

My arms were still tired from last night's walk this morning when I got to hold him through church. We finally got around to visiting the church adjacent to our neighborhood. Patrick loved the music, squirming and squealing through the worship time. After a while, though, the squirming got to him when he leaned over in front of Daddy and threw up (nope, not spit up--it was gross) on the floor. We decided that was about the right time to take him to a quieter place, like the nursery.

Patrick was unhappy and crying when I left him, and I felt so incredibly guilty. It made it hard to concentrate when I got back to the service. I also realized how vulnerable I felt. My shield was suddenly gone. People weren't looking at the cute thing in my arms anymore, and they might actually see me. It was so weird to suddenly recognize how much I hide behind Patrick, or Matt when Patrick's not around.

Anyway, I was anxious to get Patrick back when worship ended. He was crying when we got there. He was even doing the little hiccup sobs that tore at my heart. I was sure he'd cried the whole time based on how upset he seemed, but the nursery lady said he stopped crying soon after I left earlier and had been happy until just a minute or two before we got there. Finding him crying again didn't help my guilt, though, and I was all too happy to hold him again, even with my tired arms.

Matt and I are glad we visited this church, but we don't think we'll be going back. It was quite different from what either of us is used to and definitely out of our comfort zones. We're looking around for some other new places to visit in our area. I hope we can find a home church soon. I think that will make it easier to make ourselves go every week, when it's a place we're comfortable and have friends.

I guess the cute pictures from yesterday will have to wait too. Stupid blogger!

Proof Against the Theory of Evolution

If man is truly evolving through the years, then why hasn't he yet developed a high chair without approximately 3,459 crevices in which to hide spit-up and tiny mashed-up pieces of banana?

I'm also probably crazy for letting him eat his zwieback toast in his ExerSaucer. Crumbs everywhere!

Watching TV, playing with his ring stacker in pieces

This is his new favorite way to play his piano, with his tongue on the stacking part of his ring stacker. Maybe he thinks it makes him play better.