It's tough. I want to blog, I want to put all of these little stories into words. And they're not all about the baby, I swear. Alas, the gas tank is almost empty, and the nearest fueling station is still pretty far off. I may just make it.
Big changes afoot here in my Extra Super Fantastic life. Big things. I'm getting ready to head in an exciting new direction, and I can't wait to fill my gas tank up and tell you all about it.
Wednesday, August 13, 2008
Thursday, August 07, 2008
Well, it finally happened. My little baby boy is all grown up. At 21 pounds 9 ounces and 29 inches, I think he's about as big as he's going to get. The doctor claims that his hight and weight are things like "perfectly normal" and "average." I think words like "humongous" and "freakishly heavy" are in order.
He's gotten very good at what the interwebs call "cruising," walking while holding on to furniture. This in turn means he's gotten VERY good at taking all our various things from the coffee table, out of the arm-rest-storage-bins in the sofa, and the entertainment center/tv stand/bookshelf. Up until now, "babyproofing" meant that the vodka was safely out of reach. But we've suddenly entered that stage where I need to affix weird plastic things to all of our cupboards and drawers and keep the toilet lid down at all times. Maybe someday I'll post about my never-ending search for a suitable baby gate.
Oh, the babbling. Long ago he mastered ba ba ba and yeah yeah yeah. He's now moved on to such complex constructions as lar de lar de lar the ever-popular, very quiet di di di. It's like he's talking quietly to whichever toy he's holding. And it never fails to bring a smile to our faces. Actually, that's pretty much true about everything he's done this month. Every time he turns around from his deconstruction project to see if we're watching, and the huge grin we get when he sees that we are--priceless. Grabbing at low-hanging goodies as we stroll by--whether they be leaves and branches or shirts at the store--just totally cutes me out. As much as I want to have another baby, I'm not sure I could ever love anyone they way I love my Samson.
It's nice though; between the slap slap slap of his hands and knees on the hard wood floors and the constant yeah yeah yeah de lar lar lar, I've gotten pretty good at determining where he is in the house without ever having to take my eyes off of Law & Order. And ninety percent of the time, he's in hot pursuit of a cat. Or cat food.
I can't get over how busy he is. Always on his way somewhere, or to many somewheres, and with such grit! Such determination! Thankfully, he also seems to enjoy sitting in the stroller looking at birds, trees and people (especially people). And best of all, month nine has seen the return of the 2-3 nap days and the 2 hour naps. Not all the time, but a lot of the time. We try to go on little adventures to tire him out--like our extra super fantastic trip to the zoo--and that helps bring about the 2 hour nap. Oh 2 hour nap, how I love thee.
Now that my teeny tiny baby is a Small Child, he's started using his Big Boy car seat. Which is very exciting. Obviously. He also started eating chicken and fish this month, or rather, he started flinging chicken and fish at me this month. Not a huge fan, unless I mix enough fruit in with the meat that he can't tell it's there. Fair enough. Nothing wrong with mango chicken or apple sole. Ew.
And what would month nine have been without Samson's first Fourth of July and hence his first Annual Foster City Pancake Breakfast.One of the neat things about raising your kid in the same place you grew up is that you get to relive all of your childhood memories with some sort of an action figure.
On the horizon for month ten: Samson's first (extra utero) wedding, first camping trip (hopefully), swim lessons, first baseball game (go A's!), and a visit from Auntie Mir. It just keeps getting better!