7.5

The ear infection of doom. That, plus my slacker blogger style, has let your half birthday, first tooth, seventh month and so much more pass without note. The past 2 months have gone something like this:

Early March- cold of doom that you (and I) just can't shake. with a crazy cough on your side.

Two weeks later fever and a little vomiting joined the party. A Saturday urgent care visit revealed that your snottiness and cough were not a cold. Enter bronchiolitis. And as a bonus a right ear infection. We celebrated your half birthday one week later with antibiotics, bathroom steams and lots of cuddles.

Two weeks later at your well baby check you seemed to be doing better. Dr. D said something like 'the left ear is looking almost healed, that's where he had the infection right; before looking it up on the computer. I was confused, trying to remember all of my questions and keep your dad in check. I thought the computer confirmed the infection of the left ear and maybe I was just crazy. We headed home, your body responding to vaccine and ready to pop out it's first tooth.

The first weekend in April brought your first tooth! Also, mom specific seperation anxiety. As in your dad is holding you, I walk from the living room to kitchen, and you loose your mind. With our open floor plan you can see me the entire time, but there is something about crossing the line between the carpet and tile that makes you scream.

When you finished your antibiotics you had a small cough. Over time this escalated, sounding like something better suited to an old man who smoked. Another visit to Dr. D. The unhappy looking left ear from 2 weeks before? Full fledged infection. Enter boosted amoxicillin, because it was so close to your last dose.

Day one off antibiotics the cough returned. Day two brought back the lethargy then fever. More time with Dr. D. You screamed like you do with shots when he checked your ears. A third course of antibiotics. As a bonus we can't combine it with cereal. Your first diaper rash.

Back at the well baby we decided to take you off of the Zantac. Solids and age seemed to be doing the trick, keeping the acid at bay. Until you decided to go on a food strike. Combined with the dosing restrictions on antibiotic 3 we revisited refluxville. Yet another doctor's appointment, this one with a PA that we as a family despised.

So you're back on Zantac, on the antibiotic, and lots of ibuprofen to help you sleep.

Today is day 8. I'm hoping and praying that we can get off of this roller coaster. Though I'm not that optimistic.

Here's the thing though. You are the strongest little person I know. The morning of the initial ear infection diagnosis we were at the grand opening of our neighborhood library. You charmed librarians, ladies of all ages and a few kids too. You are a natural flirt and know how to work a room. In the six weeks since your style has changed but you melt just as many hearts. If I'm holding you you rest your head on my chest and shyly smile up from behind your mile long lashes. At least twice a week we are delayed leaving child care becuase someone wants to fawn over you.

You have mastered rolling. Turning too. Combining the two you've covered up to six feet. You've discovered the shelf under our coffee table, pulling books down one by one. Standing is your most favorite thing. The 5 year old grammar is the only way to adequately capture how excited you get on your feet. You pull up, squirm down from our laps, and refuse sit- bouncing with happiness until your legs give out.

You are happy. You are strong. Despite the battle between the bacteria, your immune system and the antibiotic support. You are full of smiles. Finding your voice and being the best baby in the world.

Even is we never get much sleep.

5

We're 5 months into this crazy journey. Five months of smiles, cries, wiggles and love.

You are finally out of 0-3 clothes. Like last week. I'll admit, I'm having a hard time saying goodbye to a few of my favorite outfits. Even though you're just moving up you have been putting on the pudge. At 4 months you got rubber band wrists and in the past few days your ankles have joined the party.

But underneath you are all muscle. You've always been strong, but your dad and I are realizing more and more how much trouble we're in for once you coordinate your arms and knees. Your teachers, grandma and anyone that has the pleasure of holding you gets a taste of your strength. Lunging out of our arms towards a toy, the TV, or even the daily activity sheet at child care is your favorite ways to display this strength. Most of the time you seem to understand this gravity thing and you grab on to a shirt or my hair to keep from falling.

On the movement front you're a bit of a tease. I've watched your turn from front to back and back to front. Multiple times on a variety of surfaces. But once you've done it once or twice you go on a strike for a while. I don't think you let your grandma see either in the week she was here. The one thing that will reliably get you roll is the TV. Two weeks ago you were sitting on my lap and got bored with looking at me. You craned your neck to double check that the tv was on and rolled off of my lap and into your stomach, chin propped on your arms to watch a bit of the news.

When it comes to sleep, the teasing becomes a bit of an annoyance. You sleep like a dream on your tummy. It's third to on me (like you are now) and with me. Once I know you can reliably flip yourself back and forth I'll let you sleep however you wind up. Until then I keep putting you on your back or side and you keep waking up. a lot. so much that I may have been too sleep deprived to write about your 4th month.

until this week where we got sick (and therefore weak) you've been sleeping in your crib. in short spurts, but there. all of our tactics (bed time routine, sound machine, the into the crib dance, holding your for 2 or 20 minutes after you fall out...)have failed us. you seem to understand when we're on the brink though. inexplicably you'll give us night with 3 hour stretches and we suddenly feel human again. if you're reading this as a teen I'd like to reinforce that last part. sleeping in 2-3 stretches of three hours puts us over the moon. because all of the other nights are so much shorter. good thing you're cute.

honestly, i wish we had a king bed so we could all pile in. but we don't. and your dad is scared you would never leave.

when you're awake and not tired you're an absolute dream. you love your toys as much as you have always loved people. you are still a total flirt. in your whole life there has only been one person who you wouldn't light up for- a waitress at a breakfast spot.

we're excited about you starting solids. and crawling. and continuing to see the little boy you will become.

Loosing Time

Twice in the past week I've lost my place in the space/time continuum.

The first was an epic fail as a daughter. My mom has a late January birthday. She was born in 1950, so it's always really easy math. Subtract 50 and you're all good. So one morning when I was feeling particularly on top of things I call my mom and ask how she feels about her approaching milestone birthday. She doesn't really celebrate birthdays, but there's something to be said for turning 60. Unless you turned 60 the year before and your idiot daughter can't remember that it's 2011.

The second instance also involves my mom. Hubby has a work trip so she's going to fly out for some grandbaby lovin and general daughter saving. The only hiccup in this plan is that my mom is a neat freak. She's in the 'my house looks like a museum camp' where my household is more of 'lived in' variety. Really lived in. It was like that before the sleep deprived, baby lovin, working full time state that is our life now...

So I made a plan to get things to the my mom can tolerate them point. Cleaning last weekend before my husband had friends over, a few minutes in each room in the evenings, the following weekend to dust/vacuum/mop, and then just keeping things maintained before she arrives the following Sunday. Except that middle weekend doesn't so much exist. My brain just created a weekend to get stuff done.

yeah

The bug is back

I'm a long time crafted, but during the first few months of Baby D's life sleep, food, and laundry kept me preoccupied. But the crafting bug hit hard a right around the start of the new year. So far vie sewn some wool longies, started knitting some wool shorties, hand sewn a stuffed bird, bought fabric and cut rectangles for my first ever baby quilt...and there's something that I'm not remembering. All of this during short nap times and punctuated early evening sleep.

Though I still have a lot in progress I'm off to my newest idea, making drool catchers (aka suck pads) for my mei tei. The baby carrier, not the beverage, though a mei tai would be tasty.

Crafting is just one more thing that work is interupting, but without it I'm not sure how I'd fund the addiction.

Triple crud

three days back to work and i caught the crud. then i gave it to the baby. a few days later. my husband rounded it out by catching his own version of the crud a few days after that.

i'm finally better, but the baby is not. he's snotty and stuffy. avoiding the bulb syringe has helped him hone his aim, backhand, and scream.

he also seems to be outgrowing his reflux meeds dose. the plan with his doctor was to try and maintain his dose as he grows as a way to wean him off. the acid in his stomach seems to disagree. the last few days he's been fussier when spitting up about half of the time and generally cranky. today when wiping up some spit up i noticed reddish orange flecks suspended in the yuck. so somewhere between his stomach and lips there's a little bleeding happening.

because fun comes in three's our boy is also gassy. and trying to pass gas makes him spit up.

dealing with the fussiness and general unhappy is no fun. though there isn't much i wouldn't do for him to feel good.

Jumbles

Your child care center is closed this week. So I'm 'working' from home with you. I love that I have a job this flexible. I love that while you were growing inside me I could say things like 'I'll be on email until the nausea passes.'. I love my coworkers. That staff meetings include at least twenty minutes of personal updates. Most importantly I love what I do. Helping ladies like the ones who take care of you get their education and navigate the system.

Of course you heard the but 5 sentences ago.

I can't stand being away from you eight hours every day. Your father and I have almost figured out a morning routine with your milk and diapers and getting all three of us out the door. We have a pick up schedule. But in the end we get just 1-2 hours to revel in your wonderfulness (or crankiness, depending on the day).

Some days I'm so tired at the end of it all that I can't really revel. To tired to do anything other than shove food in my face, feed you, get us changed, say hi to your father and crash.

~~

This week has been great and horrible. I love being with you all day. I have gotten maybe one day of work done in the past 3.5.

There are so many things I want to do with you. Play group, story time at the library, boob group, spend the day laying on the floor....that's just now. Swimming lessons, exercise classes, the park and on and on.

We almost never have groceries because at the end of the day all I can think about is going to you. On the weekends it's either squeezing things into your nap time or dragging you out- which you generally dislike. So I do neither.

I don't even want to get started on pumping enough for you to eat.

~~

Realistically this is our life for the next 6 months. Your dad is at a new job. My boss and I worked hard to secure funding for my position. Aldo financially, with the 11 weeks without pay your dad took to bond with you, our bank account resembles my grad school days. Worse actually with the purchase of two cars and a house and paying back my brain. I'm proud that we've paid off the cars. Both in under 3 years. I know what we spend every month. I have no clue what your dad will bring in, though the prospect seems good.

So I'll keep working. Trying to figure out how to take care of my boys. And myself. Bringing home my salary and health insurance for you and I. Paying our bills and building our cushion, because worse than this crazy hectic day to day is better than not knowing how to provide for you.

3 months

Baby D,

I can't beleive you are 3 months old love. Actually 3 months and 3 days because between you, your father, work I haven't been able to get on a laptop until now. Oh, and Christmas.

We decided not to get you anything. I know. We suck. But you won't remember and we haven't introduced you to all of the toys that you currently own. I have a festive outfit and we'll call that a day.

I told your father I was happy without gifts because I have everything I want. Corny + sappy, but that's your mama. He on the other hand wants some presents. Not that he doesn't think you hung the moon. He just likes his toys. If you could land somewhere in the middle I'd appreciate it.

At exactly 12 weeks you realized that your hands are indeed under your control. My main tool to help you make the connection was my hair. Please don't make me regret this. (I realize it was idiotic, but a mama can hope right?) From around 7 weeks you've been facinated by my twists. A sure way to make you smile when you were starting to fuss was to dangle my hair in front of you. Then you started reaching. The day you turned 12 weeks you got the look of concentration, reach, connect and close hand routine down. I think you're still trying to figure out exactly how far you can reach, but if we keep it close enough you go for it.

In other 3 month old news you still hate the car/car seat. I tried to take you to a work thing the other evening and you literally did a back arch as I tried to put you into the car seat.

~~

this would be when you woke up. i tried again and you woke up again...