Just...Yuck

It was a particularly bad day with the morning sickness. Even when the nausea mostly dissipated this afternoon, I was left feeling wiped out, like I had been sick for weeks, not just this morning. Because of feeling so sick, I didn't spend the individual time with Patrick that I normally do (thank goodness he's so happy playing alone in his pen), so I don't have all the usual funny stories from the day. Instead, here are a few more of the best pictures from the last few weeks.

Goofy Personality Day

So behind in cute stories. Before we get to them, though, here are the first few of the pictures that I finally downloaded off my camera. I'll probably post a few of my favorites each day until I am caught up.
Patrick was being so cute and sweet yesterday evening. I wasn't feeling great, so I was lying on the couch. Matt had to go do something in the other room, so he left Patrick with me, lying next to me on the couch. I figured he would squirm out of my arms right away, like he always does, but he lay there comfortably until Matt got back. Then Matt held him in his lap while he watched TV for a few minutes, and Patrick sat happily with him, for probably a good ten minutes or so. He was watching the show too, kicking his feet a little bit and playing with his fingers absentmindedly. It was such a sweet moment, and Matt and I kept looking at each other in wonder.
Patrick's sense of humor is uncanny sometimes. We'll catch him laughing at things on TV that we didn't even realize he was watching, much less should he recognize as funny. He'll even laugh before we do sometimes. I'm starting to think he understands a lot more than we give him credit for. Just because he can't say the words yet doesn't mean he doesn't know what they mean. Sometimes his laugh is a real belly laugh, and sometimes it is his new fake laugh. The fake laugh cracks me up because he knows when to use it, like at Daddy's corny humor or something.

The funniest moment from the past few days, though, was when Daddy was being silly and dancing the robot (and badly at that). We didn't know Patrick was watching until we heard that wonderful belly laugh. From then on, it was the funniest thing for Daddy to dance the robot for him. How should he know the robot is funny? Is it just goofy-looking or something?

Just a few minutes ago, Angie randomly started barking at the pen in the corner where Patrick plays often. I would think she's just crazy, but I think instead she was hoping Patrick would suddenly show up and start playing with her. The two are becoming fast friends, but they seem to get along better with the gate between them, so that Angie doesn't bite his fingers or toes and Patrick doesn't "pet" a little too hard. All Patrick has to do is squeal his Angie squeal, and she'll go running like a mad dog around the house, barking at him the whole time. It's adorable to watch.
On the pregnancy front, the morning sickness continues, but is more tolerable than last time so far. It seems to be staying mostly in the mornings, which is quite a blessing to have afternoons and most of the evenings free from it. It also hasn't been as severe yet, with no rushed visits to the bathroom. I'm hoping those decide not to happen at all this time. I puked enough times with Patrick to last a lifetime.

I have my first visit to the doctor on Thursday. I should hopefully find out then a better idea of just how far along we are. You may notice the ticker change then, when it's less vague of an estimation. By the way, I have the best husband ever. He figured out how nervous I was about this appointment (thinking about it was making me nauseous), so he's taking the afternoon off to go with me. I'm more worried about how to handle Patrick through the appointment than anything, so it's great to have help with baby-handling. Just knowing Matt will be there is taking a load off my shoulders.
I think that's it for tonight. I'll try to post again tomorrow, at least so you can see more pictures. I'm sure I've forgotten fun stories from the past few days too, so maybe I can catch those up too.

Checking In

I'm sorry I'm getting so sporadic with my posting. I'm afraid it's only going to get worse before it gets better. The morning sickness I was so thrilled seemed to be skipping me this time has finally hit. If any of you remember anything from Patrick's pregnancy, "morning" sickness was not a very accurate term. I was nauseous all day long. Last time I had a computer aversion for weeks along with it (never could explain that one), so I might need to avoid the computer from time to time again. It also makes it difficult to remember cute Patrick stories when I'm fighting being sick all day long. I'll try to make a real effort, though, to keep everyone posted with how things are going.

We made it back home to Houston this weekend. Things have been pretty uneventful since then. Patrick has been having lots of fun playing with Angie since we got home. His favorite new game is to play in his pen and drop his toys over the side one at a time for Angie to play with. Unfortunately, she's not allowed to play with his toys, so the pen time that used to be a reprieve for me now takes constant supervision. I'm constantly throwing his toys right back over to at least keep them out of Angie's mouth, even if Patrick doesn't want to play with them. Of course, he just throws them right back over, so we end up playing a new version of the pick-it-up game that I've tried so hard to discourage. He found a way to win either way; we either end up playing the pick-it-up game or he gets his way in letting Angie play with all his toys. Yes, it seems as though my fifteen-month-old son has outsmarted me.

Too Bad I Can't Resign

This has been one of those days that I wish I could hand over my mommy job and escape somewhere for the day. I've been moving from disciplining the puppy to Patrick and even my parents' cat. I'm so tired of yelling names and the word no. I'm tired of being ignored and talked back to ("Ma!"). I'm tired of having to enforce naptimes a few minutes before I intended to just because I need a break from all the disobedience.

I'm sure I'll re-read this post in a few days and remember what happened and laugh, because even I recognize it's a little silly. But right now I just don't know how much more I can take. Here's the short list of faults I have had to discipline for today:

Angie: biting at my feet when I walk, biting at my pants when I walk, peeing on the floor, pooping on the floor, playing with Patrick's toys after I repeatedly take them away, "helping" change Patrick's diaper, chewing on Patrick's sock, I could go on and on..

Patrick: repeatedly crawling to poke at Angie when she was in her kennel being punished, pulling up on the TV, dropping his toys so that Angie could play with them, biting me on the shoulder hard enough to break the skin

The cat: (side note--This cat is ancient and in failing health, and she can get away with just about anything. Until recently, she was on death's door, so it's probably good that she's being a bit cantankerous. Patrick is obsessed with her, but Angie's not sure what to think just yet.) climbing up on the kitchen counter to lick the dirty dishes

Okay, now that the pain from the bite on the shoulder is starting to wane, the list is starting to look a little bit funny. I'm still exasperated with all three, but I can at least see the humor in the situation. Remember that my hormones are out of whack and I can overreact to anything and everything. Oh, and I have been fighting the worst morning sickness yet all day. It's still not like the best days with Patrick, but that doesn't mean I'm not uncomfortable because of it. The desire to just sleep it off makes me cranky any time I'm not sleeping. I'm starting to feel bad for Patrick and Angie all of a sudden. Maybe they should be nominated for sainthood for putting up with me.

Reason to Brag

My son is seriously a genius. Of course, Matt and I--and all the grandparents--have known this for ages, but we finally have proof.

Last night, Patrick was playing in the kitchen, which is an odd fascination of his when we're in Dallas since he doesn't care about the kitchen at home. He suddenly remembered having played with magnets on the fridge the last time we were here and went in search of some. He found them in their usual spot, on the bottom of the fridge where he could reach them. For a few minutes, he played with peeling them off, trying to put them back on (backwards of course), and then dropping them on the floor, only to pick them back up a minute later to try again.

In the meantime, Grandpa was finishing cleaning up the kitchen. As he closed the dishwasher a final time, Patrick watched him carefully. I could nearly see the gears turning in his head as he compared the look of the front of the dishwasher to the fridge. Suddenly it clicked. He crawled over to the dishwasher with a magnet in hand and promptly stuck it on the dishwasher. He was so proud of himself for figuring out that they might stick there too.

From there, he proceeded to analyze why that might work with other experiments. He tried sticking a magnet on top of another magnet. Nope, didn't work. He tried sticking the magnet on Nana's shirt. Still didn't work. Then he decided to see if other things would stick to the dishwasher. My favorite was when he licked his index finger and carefully touched the dishwasher. Surprisingly enough, that didn't stick either.

Patrick definitely gets his analytical approach from his daddy. I could just see a little version of Matt trying to figure out just how this whole magnet thing works.

Of course, then today I had to drag him away just seconds before diving into the dog bowl, and more than once. Maybe I should hold off bragging about his genius just yet.

The Best Excuse

I'm trying to figure out just what this pregnancy can be used as an excuse for. I'm already blaming the hormones for just about everything, from feeling lazy to griping at the dog (among others). I think I can probably explain away my absence from the blog for the past few days as being too tired as well. You'd never know the difference anyway, right?

While I have been extraordinarily tired, that's only part of the story. As Paul Harvey would say, here's the rest of the story...

Matt has been sent to another training, in Chicago this time, which is to be quickly followed by a trip to help out a customer in Florida. Neither of us liked the idea of my staying at home with Patrick and Angie for nearly the full week alone, so we managed to work things to get Matt's flights out of Dallas. (In reality, it saved the company money, so it wasn't too hard to convince them of our plan.) That means I'm spending the week at my parents' again as Matt flies in and out of here a few times this week.

As always, life gets a little more interesting here, and I just haven't gotten around to blogging.

Okay, the inevitable adorable stories so far this week:
1. Mom had found some little puppy toys that she hoped Angie might like, since it was her first time here after all. One in particular has quite a hearty squeaker on it that scared Angie at first. Patrick found the toy right away, though, and loved it from the start. He would squeak the toy, laugh, and then imitate the squeak, quite well I might add. Finally Angie got jealous of Patrick playing with her toy and took it from him. Ever since, she has been obsessed with the toy and Patrick couldn't care less.

2. The other dogs in the neighborhood scare Angie. We have a hard time getting her to go to the bathroom outside at all because she hears other dogs barking, even all the way down the street, and just wants to go back inside. It makes for a messy week. We really don't understand this at all. Angie was born into a house with many other dogs, all bigger than her, with some much bigger. If she wasn't scared of her Doberman uncle and pit bull aunt, then why is she scared of the relatively wimpy dogs in the neighborhood?

3. Yesterday while I was napping in the evening, Mom was watchng Patrick (thank you, thank you, thank you). He was starting to get sleepy, which means he was getting to be a real handful. To try to distract him from all the things he wasn't supposed to get into, she pulled out some books to read with him. He actually sat on her lap, leaning up against her, and let her read to him. When they'd finished reading those books, he continued to just cuddle with her for quite a while. For the record, a good cuddle with Patrick these days lasts about ten seconds, if you're lucky. Mom said this cuddle lasted a good fifteen minutes probably. I think I like what Dallas is doing to my baby.

The Details

Thank you everyone for the congratulations! As you can tell, we're pretty excited. We found out a week ago today. It was kind of a surprise, although a welcome one. I truly didn't expect to find out we were pregnant when I took the test; it was more to rule it out as a possibility. And yes, Matt was the first person I told, regardless of his silly comment. I called him at work right away. We have spent every free second since then evaluating how exactly things work out with two kids, how to assign rooms for them, what to do if this pregnancy ends up like Patrick's, etc. By the way, we have a question for all parents of more than one. Can it work out to keep a nearly-two-year-old in the same room with a newborn? The new baby would stay in its playard in our room for the first few months like we did with Patrick, but after that we think it would be most convenient to have them both in the nursery. Can that work? Have you tried it, and how did it work for you?

As far as the pregnancy itself, this one is already going better than Patrick's. I think the lack of stress going into this one is making it easier. I haven't really had morning sickness yet, which is already over a week later than it started last time, even if it hit this afternoon. I'm crossing my fingers that it decides I got my share of it for at least two pregnancies last time and stays away this time. I am most definitely hormonal, though, as everyone else here can attest to. I think everyone is walking (or crawling) on eggshells around me, and probably for good reason. I can also tell that my lower belly is tighter already. I suspect I'll be into maternity clothes just a bit sooner this time around.

We think I'm about six weeks along right now. I have an appointment at the doctor in almost two weeks, and I'll have more details then. Really we probably should have waited to broadcast the news until after that appointment, but we were just so excited about it that we couldn't wait that long.

Oh, and Jennifer mentioned in the comments of the last post another problem I'm presented with. This blog is supposedly all about the boy, but it certainly won't be soon. In fact, it's already taken a turn talking about the new baby at least as much as him. That means I'm in need of a new blog title. I'm open to any and all suggestions. Just leave them in the comments section or e-mail me. As soon as we hit on one I like, I'll be changing it. That also means that if you link to me, you may want to change your link when the title changes. Keep watching for it!

A Letter to Patrick

Dear Patrick,

I know it's not yet time for one of your monthly letters, but a milestone so large is looming that I feel the need to start preparing you for it now.

Daddy and I found out the other day that in the matter of a few months, you will be a big brother. I know you didn't have any say in the matter, but with the new baby will come all sorts of new responsibilities for you. In fact, some of them may come sooner than expected.

Somehow I doubt you remember this, but when you were inside Mommy's belly, you caused all sorts of problems. Mommy was lucky enough to be able to lie in bed almost all day every day because of how sick you made her. Unfortunately, I can't do that this time. You and Angie require so much of my attention and care that I can't set my life aside to take care of myself and the new baby. That means that if I get as sick again, our lives may change significantly. Mommy may end up having to mommy you from bed or the couch much of the time. I may not be able to get on the floor and chase you around. If things get worse than they were when I was pregnant with you, the doctor might make me stay in bed altogether. I don't know what we would do then, if I was unable to take care of you altogether, but you might be forced to grow up fast in that case.

Even after this baby comes, you'll keep getting new responsibilities. Being a big brother is a big responsibility. You'll be a role model for your little brother or sister. He or she will want to imitate everything you do as you get older. While that will drive you crazy at times, you'll realize more and more as you get older how flattering that really is. It's a big responsibility to grow up right yourself so that you can lead your brother or sister to be a responsible kid and then adult too.

We all know, even now, that there will be times when you will wish we had never decided to give you a brother or sister. You two will fight like bitter enemies, and Mommy and Daddy will wonder what we were thinking to have more than one of you. Through all of it, though, I know you will come out as the best of friends. You will grow up to be grateful that we provided ready-made friends and playmates. I'm looking forward to teaching both you and your sibling important life lessons, such as sharing and loving no matter what.

I'm sorry now for springing this big change on you all of a sudden, because it will certainly seem that way in September when we bring home your baby brother or sister for the first time. I have faith in you, however, to naturally understand how best to be a model older brother. You've exceeded our expectations in every other way, especially when it comes to loving people for who they are, so I have no reason to expect you to fail this time. In fact, I think you will be excited when you see the new baby that I'm certain you'll claim as yours from the start.

And in case you need the reassurance, we will love you no less because we're welcoming a new baby into the house. In fact, I have a feeling loving a new baby will only remind us just how much we love you--especially when you'll sleep through the night even when the baby is crying.

Love,
Mommy

In a Slump

I'd like to take a moment to apologize to everyone who obsessively checks my blog for updates and pictures of Patrick. I've hit a real blogging slump lately and haven't found the motivation to blog. Really, there hasn't been too much to talk about anyway. Patrick's fine. Angie's fine. Matt and I are fine. I finally have a few stories for today, though.

Patrick is officially weaned of breastmilk now. After that first day when I didn't offer to let him nurse, it was like he'd never nursed. It doesn't seem to bother him at all to drink only out of a sippy cup (although that fight is another blog post altogether). I'm doing fine with it. I feel pretty much back to "normal," as if I can really remember what that is from nearly two years ago. I'm back to wearing normal undergarments, and I don't have to wear one at night anymore! Freedom! Apparently I'm still a little paranoid about leaking, though, because I had a dream last night that I suddenly started leaking badly and the whole front of my shirt was wet. I was a little surprised to wake up to find my chest dry. I guess when it's a worry for that long, you can't just push it away that easily.

Patrick is also weaned off his reflux meds. I'd been cutting him back slowly, a minute amount of each medicine every few days, stopping the weaning if he started spitting up again. Then Friday morning I forgot to give him his meds altogether. He didn't spit up. I tried it again on Saturday, and he only spit up once, just a little one. I haven't given him any meds since then, and he's fine. It's great knowing that Patrick is no longer reliant on medicine of any sort. I think I've gotten more of a glimpse into the real Patrick, the non-medicated one. He's a little more amiable and fun to be around.

And here's a great story about Angie (catch the sarcasm):
Last night we had to make an emergency trip to Petsmart in the freezing cold to pick up some more training pads for the corner of her pen. She had used up all the ones we bought before already. Since we were only going to Petsmart, we decided to bring her along. She's cute and fun to show off, after all. On the way there, she suddenly got sick to her tummy, leaving a mess on the blanket we keep in that car for when I get cold on trips. I guess at least it was on the blanket, not the car, but ewww. Then she growled and snapped at me when I attempted to keep her from eating the mess. Stupid dog. To make matters even worse, on the way home, just a few minutes later, her tummy started working the other way and she pooped all over the blanket. It was a bigger pile than she usually leaves, of course, and it was stinky. Matt and I were picking up dinner at the time, and the combination of the food smell with the poopy smell was too much to handle. We had to just find a nearby dumpster to get rid of that blanket before it made either of us sick. I think secretly the blanket was relieved; it probably didn't want to see what else the puppy would subject it to anyway. Next time we might just leave Angie at home.

Learning Opposites

Lately when Patrick plays, he experiments with opposites. He has been working on in and out for a long time now, using his shape sorter to learn the concepts. He'll put a toy in and then pull it back out (although not through the shapes on the sides very often). For his birthday and Christmas, he got several more toys that can store things, and Patrick claimed them as some of his favorites as soon as he realized what they can do.

Of course, these new toys have lids on them. Patrick had to master the concepts of open and close first. Some days he will just flip the lid open and then back closed for hours (it seems like) at a time. Once his fascination with opening and closing the lids started to wane, he combined the open and close idea with the in and out idea. Now he will open the lid and put in a toy. Then he'll close the lid, only to open it again a minute later to take the toy back out. It looks like a boring and repetitive game to me, but it entertains Patrick, so I guess it's more fun than it looks.

Patrick also likes the on and off game. I think this one started at Christmas when he found willing participants for the pick-it-up game. He would deliberately drop pieces of food or a spoon off the side of his high chair, screaming until someone picked it up to give it back to him. Then he'd drop it again. Since coming home and finding all sorts of neat things to pull up on, he has been practicing dropping things and picking them up himself. He'll take a small toy or a piece of food during snacktime and pull up on the coffee table or end table and carefully place it on the table. He plays with it for a minute there and then drops it on the ground. From there, he will either drop on his rear to a sitting position to grab the toy again or carefully lean down to pick it up, keeping one hand on the table. I love that this last game teaches him balance too. At this rate he'll be standing on his own before I know it. And from there is walking! He'll be a full-fledged toddler before I know it.

A Painful Step

Now that the diaper issue is all but over, I'm no longer worried about Patrick's fluid intake. That's the only reason I still nursed him the other day. I'm ready to wean.

So yesterday when the poop returned to normal, I cut him off from nursing. Today was the second day without it, and we're both coping fine. I don't know that Patrick even realizes anything has changed. He's easygoing enough that he'll nurse if I offer, but it doesn't make a difference to him if I don't.

I'm handling it well too, both emotionally and physically. I miss that cuddle time with him in the morning, but he's already finding new ways to show me affection. He'll crawl up to me randomly while playing and lay his head on my lap for a few seconds or he'll pull up on me and want to be held for a few minutes. That may not be quite the same as nursing, but it's an okay trade-off.

Physically I'm a little bit uncomfortable, but not in the kind of pain I expected. I guess my strategy of weaning him a little at a time seems to have helped. In a few days, it should all be over, and I'll be back to a normal size. It will be so weird to pull out pretty bras again and put away these purely functional nursing bras. I'm already planning to celebrate by getting something new. Thank goodness for these Victoria's Secret catalogs I keep getting and ignoring!

Update about Patrick's Butt

Thanks for all the advice you experienced moms gave yesterday about Patrick's diaper rash. Fortunately, this appears to have been a short-lived problem. After talking with my own mom yesterday afternoon, we came to the conclusion that the poop issues were most likely related to something he ate. I fed him mango baby food the day before. He's had mangoes before, but it's been a long time. Probably the mangoes had a "peaches" effect on him, causing the poop problems. Now that they've cleared out of his system, that problem is also clearing up.

The diaper rash is sticking around a little longer, but it's already much better. I can change his diaper without so much as a whimper from him again. He seems to grow impatient with how long it takes now that I'm smearing cream on his bottom, but it doesn't bother him to have the red spots touched. Yes, the red is still there, but patchier and less red than yesterday. I'm crossing my fingers that it continues to get better. I don't want to have to deal with a yeast infection (thanks for scaring me, you helpful moms! :) ).

Patrick is also acting like he feels better today. He wasn't too bad yesterday, but he acts brighter today and smiles more easily. He's more energetic again, literally crawling in circles around the floor awhile ago. It's nice seeing him back to his normal self, even if I couldn't tell a drastic difference yesterday.

By the way, I seriously did consider leaving him out of his diaper for a while during the worst of the rash yesterday. Since the poopy problem wasn't over at the time, though, I was reluctant. It's one thing to have a pee spot under him; poop is something entirely different. Also, Patrick's quite the little man when it comes to peeing. He wouldn't just leave a little wet spot under him. He'd probably spray the walls and everything around him as well. He's got quite the aim. I wouldn't be surprised to find his name spelled out in pee on the wall if I left him diaperless for long--if he could spell yet, that is. Leaving his diaper off him would only be a last resort, and only then if I could coat the room in plastic first.

First Diaper Rash

It all started when Matt and I noticed Patrick seemed a little "off" this weekend. It wasn't anything specific, but enough that we both recognized something wasn't quite right. Then last night I changed an ickier-than-normal diaper. When I gently wiped the poop off his tush, it was bright red underneath. I pulled out the Balmex we got at Patrick's shower long ago, and carefully covered the red spot.

Patrick didn't sleep very well last night, waking up to cry regularly. Matt and I even got him up to comfort him and check on him before we went to bed. I wondered if his belly was hurting him again, but there wasn't much I could do about it but comfort him. So that's all I did.

This morning, he had another loose diaper. It had apparently sat in the diaper for a long time, so his tush was even more red and sore by the time I got him changed. More diaper rash cream and more screaming from Patrick.

That was the last loose poop (although he had several more normal ones) until just a few minutes ago. I'm working to trick Patrick into drinking more fluids than normal because I'm a little worried about dehydration. I'd be more worried if he acted like he didn't feel good more than during the diaper changes. As it is, right now he's playing happily, like he doesn't have a care in the world. He has no symptoms other than the gross diapers and the diaper rash. I guess I"ll take a wait-and-see approach since nothing appears to be that bad right now.

It kills me to change his diapers right now, though. The gross diapers aren't as bad as I would expect them to be, and spreading the cream on his butt isn't too nasty. The part I hate is that even gently touching his diaper rash makes him break out in the worst screams. It breaks my heart to hear him hurting and know I'm causing it, even when what I'm doing will help the hurt in the long run.

Is there any advice from you other mothers that may have dealt with diaper rash before? I know what the books say to do, and I'm trying to do that, but that's not the same as hearing tricks from you who have experienced this firsthand.

Fifteen Months

Dear Baby Boy,

Now that you're fifteen months old, I'm realizing my opportunities to call you that are quickly dwindling, so I'm going to use that nickname every chance I get. Some day all too soon I'll let the name slip out, and you'll just roll your eyes and sigh at me. "Mo-om!"
This month was an exciting one for you because you experienced your second Christmas. You certainly seemed to enjoy it more than your first, as you were awake for much of this one, but you still didn't quite seem to grasp the holiday spirit. I'm looking forward to next year when you may start to understand that there are goodies underneath that bright paper and shiny bows. Perhaps you'll be more interested in ripping off the paper and playing with the toys instead. Still, you seem to be enjoying all the loot from your many relatives who love you.

Your big gift this year, and the one you appear to love the most, is Angie, your first puppy. Once you realized she was coming home with us to stay, you became absolutely obsessed with her. More than once you've tried crawling into our bathroom where you know her pen is just to pull up on the side and look at her. You coo at her in your "kitty" voice and try to imitate all the noises she makes, her growls, barks, and whines. Daddy and I love to hear it; the noises are lots cuter out of your mouth than hers. You laugh uproariously at Angie's antics and grab her rope so that you can play with her yourself. I sometimes think you can't wait to get just a little bigger and can play with her without having her nip at your hands and run around and play chase like Daddy does.
You have also figured out how to say Angie. That's certainly telling, considering the only intelligible words we've heard from you so far are Mama, Dada, hi, Grandpa, and kitty. The only ones you've said with any regularity are Mama and kitty, so you must really love that puppy to have learned her name so fast. On the other hand, you use Mama as your catch-all word right now. Of course, you use it when you want me, but we also get to hear it any time you want anything. "Mama" is just your way of expressing yourself right now. It gets our attention anyway.

Several weeks ago when it looked like you were growing tired of nursing, I decided that if you were willing to continue until you were fifteen months old, then I would wean you then. If I remember right, that's about when I gave it up, so that felt plenty long enough to let you nurse. I've been so proud of myself for making it this long; I hated breastfeeding in the beginning.

Then this morning I got you up as normal and headed straight to your high chair for breakfast instead of stopping on the couch for your morning nursing session, the only one you still get. You fought me when I tried to strap you in, screaming at the top of your lungs. You knew something was different, a change from your morning routine, and it broke my heart. I'd already had an internal debate going in my own mind about whether I thought I was ready for you to wean. Your resistance to the weaning was the final straw. Your breakfast started off with a nursing session as usual after all.

In a way, I'm disappointed with myself for caving when I'd set a goal for myself, but I can't bear to hurt you, even in this tiny way, just because I told myself I'd do something. What does it matter if you continue nursing for one more day or one more week? I'm still working us towards weaning, but I'll slow down. There's no hurry for you to grow up.

You're growing up way too fast in every way, growing taller each time you wake up and more mature every day. You truly won't be my baby boy much longer. I'll still love you just as much when you're my toddler boy and my teenage boy and my grown-up boy, though. But you'll have to forgive me if a part of me will always think of you as my dear little baby boy.

Love,

Mommy

Nothing Exciting

Sorry, no new pictures yet. They're all still sitting on my camera, where they will probably remain until tomorrow. They're not particularly special anyway, just more of Patrick's antics.

Patrick's sleep schedules have been changing some recently, and I'm left feeling like I'm drowning without the usual routine. He acts tired more often but won't go to sleep easily when I put him down for naps. I've tried keeping him up longer so that he'll be more tired when naptime comes, but then he's just fussy longer while he plays.

I think a lot of it has to do with the fact that he's giving up one of his naps, his late afternoon/early evening nap. He's sleeping a little later in the mornings and going down for his afternoon nap later, so he's able to just barely make it to a reasonable bedtime from there. By the time he's managed to fall asleep for that afternoon nap the past few days, though, he's been so exhausted that he's slept for hours. I'm not sure whether to try putting him down before he starts acting sleepy or wait until he's totally exhausted. What I'm doing is apparently not working, so I guess I need to try for a change.

That's about the only mildly interesting story since yesterday. It's Friday, though, and the weekend! Yay! It's been a long four-day week.

Quick Update

Just a quick drop-in tonight. We're all still alive and kicking, quite heartily in Patrick's case, despite the fact that I was gone yesterday. It's just more working through some minor computer issues that should (cross your fingers) be fixed as of now.

Really, it doesn't much matter that I didn't blog. Not much of interest has been happening. Patrick's done a cute thing or two, mostly related to the puppy. He loves going outside with me when I take Angie to go potty. We have to play with her for a few minutes to persuade her to poop so she won't go in the house, and Patrick finds that the most amusing part of his day. He laughs a huge belly laugh each time Angie runs towards or away from us. He's also decided it's his job to carry her rope, I suppose to play with her with it, when we take her from her pen outside and then to the living room. It's particularly funny because he's not so interesting in playing with her where she can reach him. He's still just a bit nervous about having her in his face.

As far as Matt and me, we're just adjusting to life with an emerging toddler and a puppy. It's a lot more work than I thought it would be since I can't leave either alone for more than a second or two at a time. And both have to be carried sometimes since neither follows on their own very willingly. That's tons of fun with a baby in one arm and a puppy in the other, trying to keep the puppy from nipping at the baby or the baby from hitting the puppy, and maneuvering doors open and closed at the same time. I'm becoming the master at multi-tasking.

Pictures to follow tomorrow. I promise I'll download the many, many pictures I've taken over the past few days when I find a few seconds tomorrow.

Mostly About the Dog

Angie is turning out to be a great puppy, mostly. She's already starting to understand the concepts of potty training. She rarely goes in her pen in our bathroom, where she spends the nights and naptimes during the day. We have a training pad for her in the corner, but she only uses it in an emergency. She'd rather wake us up with whining to take her outside first. I hate the whining with a passion, but it's good that she'd rather go outside than in her pen. She still has frequent accidents when she's out running around, especially poop, but that's already getting better too.

About that whining, though...It's obnoxious and incessant when she wants out for any reason, even just to play. There is no sleeping through it, whether it's at night or early in the morning or during one of Patrick's naptimes. We're all suffering from a slight lack of sleep due to the furry thing residing in our bathroom. If she weren't so darn cute, I think we might have traded her in awhile ago.

Patrick loves the puppy, though, and he seems to have grasped the concept that she's sticking around. It didn't take him long to learn her name. He lapses into his "kitty" voice and says, "A-gee" every time he sees her. Considering how rare it is to even hear "Dada," that's quite the compliment. He's not as keen on actually playing with her or petting her, though. I think he got licked in the face a few too many times over Christmas, so now he squeezes his eyes shut and turns his head when he sees Angie coming. It's too bad because Angie really wants to play with Patrick. I'm working on keeping her away from him until he learns she won't do that to him (as long as we continue training her not to).

When Patrick hears Angie bark, that cute little puppy yip, he laughs. He was trying to imitate it during lunch today, yipping right back at her. He was also imitating her play growls when she was playing with me this afternoon. Apparently her little noises are fascinating and thrilling to imitate. It's so cute to watch the two of them together.
Okay, now a few stories just about Patrick. He is such a little boy. He loves playing with his blocks, even though he hasn't figured out how to stack them yet. Usually they stay in a messy pile where he dumped them out of their bag. If I try to stack them neatly for him, though he reacts. He'll come crawling over to the stack as fast as he can and sweeps a hand through them, scattering them everywhere. He's not happy until there are no little neat stacks left. I don't know how he can be his daddy's son to love chaos and mess that much.

Patrick's new thing during diaper changes is to have me "eat" his foot. Every single time he lies on his changing table, before I can put his pants back on, he holds his foot up toward my face. He watches as I grab his foot and pretend to eat it, saying "Yummy, yummy," at the same time. Then he giggles wildly. It's so much of a routine that he screamed at Daddy earlier for not eating his foot before taking him out of the room. The things he finds amusing crack me up sometimes.

Happy New Year's!

Trying again...thanks to an uncooperative blogger.

I should probably be writing a more traditional New Year's post, either telling all my nonexistent resolutions or doing a year-in-review recap. Instead I've downloaded my pictures from the Christmas trip for everyone to enjoy. I'm hoping to still do a year-end recap soon, but I need to wait until our computer situation is more stable and I can access all my old pictures more easily.

Enjoy!

Patrick playing with Grandpa
Patrick showing off for the camera
He has starting crawling for me every time I pull out the camera, so I have lots of shots similar to this one.
Patrick and Nana
Patrick playing with the cars he got in his stocking at Nana and Grandpa's
The puppies at Papa and Gigi's...Ours is the cute one. Any guesses?
Patrick playing with Gramps...He ended up loving these blocks, which surprised us when we saw all his other cool gifts.
Patrick and Papa
Patrick and Grammy
Patrick in his new Radio Flyer outfit, surrounded by his new Christmas toys
Patrick watching The Backyardigans
Angie mid-play
Angie playing with Daddy
More Angie
And more Angie
Patrick playing with Angie