crawling

BabiesThe Story

This Is How a Mommy Keeps A Baby Down

by Jill
written by Jill

This is the chubby baby I left at home last week…

This is the baby I came home to…

I don’t know about you, but I could tell immediately that she’d thinned out. Oh sure, she probably grew longer, too, but? She had a neck.

Who are you and where is your back fat?! I thought as I ran my hands around her svelte rib cage.

My frozen breastmilk stash wasn’t overflowing when I left last week. It was *just enough* to get her by. And Scott, being the prepare-for-the-end-of-the-world kind of guy he is, wanted to be sure he didn’t use all of it. So she ate a lot more solids while I was gone than she has been. Solids like fruits and vegetables, and things with not even a fraction of the fat content in my could-pass-for-melted-ice-cream breastmilk.

The upside was some of her diapers fit a little better around her thighs, but the result was still unacceptable. 

No. I like my babies fat. Let her get too thin, and, before I know it, she’ll be crawling, which we all know leads to pulling up, then walking, then my head exploding as I chase 2 kids who spin in opposite directions.

She wants to crawl. Oh, how she wants to crawl, but I put my boob in her mouth as many times as she wanted this week, and I think I successfully put a couple rolls back on her… just enough to keep her down… for now.

(This is the part where you should hide your ovaries. Her chubby cuteness is going to jump out the screen and try to invade them, FYI.)

That black mark is not a bug on your screen. I think there’s a scratch on my phone lens.

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Stuff

Pin Of The Week: Mop Romper

by Jill
written by Jill

Now that Leyna is becoming increasingly mobile on these hardwood floors, this is looking less and less crazy.

Source: dailydawdle.com via Jill on Pinterest

 

She’s not quite crawling yet, but she’s rolling and scooting everywhere. The dogs are shedding like they dream of becoming hairless cats, and every time I pick her up from the floor, she’s plastered in dog hair.

It’s easy to get disgusted by it when it’s a sweet pink romper that’s picking everything up, but if it’s an actual mop? And it’s just serving it’s purpose? I mean, let’s give the girl a job! Put her in a mop-romper and send her on her way.

I’m only half joking about all this. Bonus for the extra padding on her soft, fat knees. Maybe I can fashion a mop helmet, too, to protect her head from windowsill edges and also to clean cobwebs from the corners.

Kendall is 3 years 2 months (and I would have DIED before I let him roll around in such filth) and Leyna is nearly 7 months (and so very obviously my second child).

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BabiesThe Story

Mmmm..Crunchy!

by Jill
written by Jill

Kendall’s oral exploratory phase is in high gear.  There is no piece of dirt or debris safe from his chubby fingers and 7 teeth.  The top rails of his crib look like a wild animal attacked it, and I find him after every nap with a ring of wood stain and polyurethane chips around his mouth.  Fabulous.

This also coincides with what seems to be the beginning of defiance and boundary pushing.  I am fairly certain he can distinguish the word no, and I’m pretty sure he understands it.  I told myself months back I would not abuse the “NO” because I was worried it would loose effectiveness.  Of course, I made that silly little promise to myself before Kendall started doing things like pulling the Internet cable out of the wall, attempting to scale the blinds, and crawling as quickly away from me as possible straight for the bowl of dog water.  There I am right behind him, sprinting across the room to intercept, escalating the “no” as I get closer.  “No, honey.  NooOO.  NOOO. NO.  NO,NO,NO,No.  NO.”  I wag my finger like an old lady.  He looks over his shoulder, giggles with glee, then turns on the baby burners and books it.  So cute that he thinks his newly perfected crawl can out pace me.  He’s always surprised when I catch him, and then, of course, he tries the exact same thing again minutes later.

So today’s funny story is this.  I’m working at my desk, he is maybe 6 feet away and quietly playing.  This is my first sign something is wrong.  My son does not get quiet unless he is plotting or investigating.  He never quietly investigates the safe and healthy toys I provide.  It’s always something he’s not supposed to have.  I look up and we make eye contact.  He smiles and slowly pulls his hand up to his face, as if to taunt me.  I know what comes next, though I can’t really make out just what is going to meet it’s demise in his slobbery chompers.

I stand up and begin the series of “No”.  With each one he dramatically brings his hands closer to his face.  Half way there I get a good look at what is in his hand.  OMG.  It’s a dead spider.  “NOOOOOO!!!  Ewww!!  NO.  NO, NO, NO, NO.  Ewwwwww!!! Kendall, NO.”  The closer I get the quicker he moves.  In a matter of a second my brain is thinking “Grosss!!!  OMG.  DON’T let him eat that.  But Ewww!! You have to touch a dead SPIDER!  Quickly,  just fling it out of his hands.  HURRY.  OMG.  Boys are so gross.”

This reaction is apparently very entertaining to an 8 month old (and to think, I was JUST blogging about watching my reactions around him).  He was laughing hysterically at me by the time I grabbed his chubby little hand and flicked the icky spider out of it.  Blech…it makes me shudder just to think of him chomping down on it.  I’m pretty sure he got a leg or two.  I’m not bothered by the occasional leaf that makes it into his digestive system, but a spider is so….ewww!!!

Kendall is 8 months and 5 days old

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BabiesThe Story

I’d like to report an abduction.

by Jill
written by Jill

Santa Claus has stolen my baby!  In his place he left me with an honest to goodness little boy.  One that can pull up and take steps while pushing his new wagon.  Did Santa think I wouldn’t notice that this new model  is quicker and more daring than my floor bound baby?  This little boy not only enjoys pulling himself up on anything and everything now, but he especially enjoys flinging himself off of them and laughs hysterically when he falls face first or butt first to the ground.  I think there was a mistake, Santa.  I do not recall asking for a rough and tumble emergency room visit waiting to happen in my stocking this year.  What have you done with my sweet tummy scooting infant?!

I am not exaggerating one bit when I say that in the last 36 hours Kendall has gone from the master of Army crawling to crawling on all fours, pulling up, taking steps with the help of push toys, and flinging himself to the ground with glee.  I think he might even have his first black eye.  This new found dare devilness pleases him greatly.

Among other fabulous gifts, he received a Radio Flyer push wagon and an activity table for Christmas.  I don’t know if it was just the right time, or if these toys helped push things along, but within hours of opening presents he mastered both “big boy” toys.  To think… I was expecting he would have to “grow into” these toys.  But, as it turns out, my nearly 8 month old baby is not such a baby anymore.  And something about these new developments even makes him LOOK LESS like a baby.  As I watched him gobble up the corner of yet another board book tonight, I couldn’t  help but sit there in awe.  He really is growing up…right in front of me.  How is it that we went from this

courtesy of Regetis Photography, www.regeti.com

to this… (and yes, that’s Scott rocking his super cool Santa hat in the background)

in the blink of an eye?  It made me pause and say out loud this quote I think of from time to time. “Be happy for this moment.  This moment is your life.”

I hope you all had a fantastic holiday!  Be on the lookout next year for Santa Claus.  He just may kidnap your baby, too.

Kendall is rapidly approaching 8 months old

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