Not Quite 3 months

Dearest Sweetest, Little A.J.

I'll be honest, when my OB's office called a few weeks before you were to be born and informed me that we'd be moving up your birth via Cesarian by one day I was unhappy.  I knew that a mother isn't supposed to be able to pick their child's birthday, but after your stubborn brother went and had to go and be born surgically, well, I wasn't really given the option of trying it the old fashion way with you.  So picking the day you were to arrive was supposed to be one of the perks.

Based on my, um, "calendar" you should have been due about November 26.  However, based on your early measurements, the doctor informed me that you were actually running right around 2 weeks behind schedule and were instead due on December 7.  The irony of having another baby born into this family at the end of November/beginning of December was not lost on me.  Neither was the fact that your "two" due dates were also your Daddy and my anniversary (11/26,) and your Gramma and Grampas (12/7.) 

From the beginning I knew to expect that I could schedule your C-Section about a week ahead of time.  And I immediately knew I wanted you to arrive on December 1.  Your brother was born on the first day of his birth month and I wanted the same for you.  I made it so EASY to keep track of how old he was. 

Also, you have cousins whose birthdays are Dec 2 and Dec 3, so I was hoping to avoid those days if at all possible.

Then some patient of my doctor needed a hysterectomy and you got bumped up. 

I cried.

I wanted that December 1 birthday.

My doctor, in turn, offered to keep you in LONGER instead.   Um, thanks but no thanks.  (Besides, with the 2nd and the 3rd ruled out and then the weekend we would have had to wait until the following Monday, which would have been the 6th and that was too close to my actual due date anyway!)

As Thanksgiving approached, everyone (and their mother) started to think that maybe the calendar due date had been correct after all.  Girl, you're Mama was HU-MON-GOUS.  Where ever I went people were worried I was going to go into labor.  And the truth be told, I think believed it to.  If I wasn't getting you on Dec 1, anytime earlier than that seemed fine with me.

Seriously did worry about our Thanksgiving Dinner though...

But nothing happened.  You were content to stay where you were.

And so, just as my doctor (and I) planned you came on November 30th.

Which was fine.  For everyone except you, I guess.  You were pretty mad that morning.

And except that February has no 30th and now you don't get to have a three month birthday.

:(

Your Gramma says you'll just go right on being 2 months until the end of March and then you'll get to be 4.

For some reason I don't think it works that way.

No, instead, we'll just celebrate your unbirthday. Like in Alice and Wonderland.  Only in your case you get to be a whole month older and there's no White Hare or Mad Hatter.

Anyway.

This month a lot has happened.  To start with, we got you meds for your Reflux and since then you are so much happier (most of the time) and you've grown a lot.  A LOT.  You now come very close to fitting perfectly in 3-6 months sized clothes.  I guess that's good since you're now 3-6 months old.  :)

As much as it pains me to say this, you're not a newborn anymore.  Probably, you haven't been for awhile.

You still LOVE to be swaddled though, so I can go on pretending awhile longer then can't I?

Even with the Reflux meds though, I've decided to give up dairy for a few weeks to see if things improve further.  (This following a few horrible days for you where Mama happened to have enjoyed more milk than usual.)  Can I just tell you something baby?  Now I'm dying for a glass of milk!!!!!  See how much I love you, I'm giving it up to see if it helps you!  Could there be a more perfect example of my love for you?

Oh, right, sorry, I could leave off the guilt tripm that would be a much better example.  Oops... my bad.

It would be VERY ironic though if this milk thing ends up panning out since I was practically a milk-a-holic when I was pregnant with you, drinking 2-3 glasses of the stuff a day there towards the end.  I couldn't seem to get enough of it.

How on Earth can you go and turn out to be allergic?

I don't know, I guess we'll see....

In other news, it's so hard for me not to compare you to your brother.  After all, he's the only other baby I've ever had.  Really, though, aside from a familial physical resemblance, you're not much like him so I'm going to try very hard not to compare his milestones to yours.  Thede days, you smile and "talk" (coo) a lot.  The best is when you're in another room (usually because I'm chasing your brother) and I hear you entertaining yourself or keeping yourself company (or maybe even calling out to me) while I'm gone.  With all the talking though, you hardly ever laugh.  You like to play the stick your tongue out game, but you can be shy about doing it... maybe because you'd much rather just smile or suck on something.  You often love floor time, so long as you're on your back and will kick and wiggly like crazy down there.  However, you really don't like tummy time and although you are very close to being able to roll over both ways (front to back and vice versa) you have yet to master either.  Instead when you get close, you just stop at the hard part and start to cry instead. 

However, you seem determined to sit up.  I'm sure other mothers everywhere are rolling their eyes at the notion that my 3 month old wants to sit up, but you do.  You CAN'T mind you, but you try.  Daddy and I keep trying to tell you you're supposed to roll over first, but you don't seem to care.  It's probably due to the reflux actually as A LOT of the time when you're lying in my arms you will grunt and flex your little abdominals and lean further and further forward until I actually sit you up.  Sitting up is supposed to help the acid stay down so it makes sense that you'd prefer it. You love to sit up on our laps and on the floor to, watching your brother, or the dog, with us supporting you. 

Your brother has really started to take a liking to you now.  Isn't it just like a boy to take a few months to figure out his feelings and learn to express them?  Now he readily offers you kisses and hugs and gently pats your head or back whenever he can.  His favorite game seems to be to retrieve your pacifier when you drop it (and about 98% of the time he even willingly surrenders it back to you.)  He also frequently brings you toys now. Yours, which he loves to shake and rattle for you to get your attention, or his which he just wants you to hold.  Today he "handed" you Tony, his Little People Fireman.  I think he was disappointed when this didn't seem to thrill you.  I know he is eagerly awaiting the days in the future when the two of you can play together.

A.J. I'm just so glad that you're mine.  Honestly, since I married your father (from a family with 5 boys,) I never ever thought that I would get to have a little girl.  I look at you, and I just can't believe how lucky I am.  I've never been OVERLY girly myself, I think I walk the fine line between stilettos and sneakers, if you know what I mean, but I can't wait to do whatever type of girly stuff with you that you want.  I'll braid your hair.  We can shop for cute shoes together!  Heck, if you really want, we can even cook together and that's really sayin' something because generally speaking, I do not enjoy the kitchen.  Then again, if you want to do stuff that is more adventurous or be all rough and tumble like your brother, I'm fine with that too.  I just can't wait to see who it is you'll become. 

God was certainly overly gracious when he blessed us with not only your awesome brother but then gave us you as well.  It's interesting really... with Peter, he just, changed my whole world, my whole heart and my whole mind.  Peter made me a MOM.  Then A.J., you made me a Mom again, sure, but also, you made us a family.  A REAL family.  Like in the Bill Cosby sense (Ha!) with more than child and a whole nother level of wonderful insanity and daily organized chaos.  :)

We are so, so grateful for you.

I love your big wide, wondering eyes.

I love your little voice and all the "things" you say.

Your sweet little smile melts my heart.

You're amazing.

I'm so so honored to be your Mother. 




(Sorry again that February is screwing you out of a 3 month birthday.)

Family Pictures

In an effort to combat the stress our empending move and the subsequent deployment is causing me, and to  preserve what little remains of my sanity, when the sun f-i-n-a-l-l-y decided to break through the clouds yesterday (after nearly two solid weeks of rain,) we took a break from sorting out our belongs, gatherered everybody up, grabbed my camera and met my friend at the park to take some family pictures. 

Oh the joys of trying to force a smile on to my husband's face while simultaneously begging our toddler to cooperate and and willing our infant to look toward the general vicinity of the camera!

Thankfully, we got some pretty good ones.

Here are my favorites:

Which do you like best?

Naked Time!

Somewhere around 4 this morning A.J. started to fuss.  Happy to have an excuse to go to her, I went and got her out of her crib, retreived her pacifier and brought her back into our room where she promptly fell back to sleep in her pack and play.

Around 5:30 she awoke again and this time wasn't interested in her pacifier so I nursed her and burped her and then passed her off to Matt who took her downstairs with him, and went back to sleep again myself.

The next thing I knew it was 8:30 and Matt had just come bursting into the room.  "You have got to come see this!!"

I sat up, fumbled for my glasses and stumbled out of bed and after him, thinking about how I'd just been dreaming about teaching elementary school again, and in the dream had just been discussing with another teacher over lunch where to send my kids to school when the time came. Dream me had been eating chips and salsa and my newly awoken mind was still thinking hungrily about the big bite of corn chip and spicy tomato goodness that had been on the way to my mouth when I'd been so suddenly snapped out of it....

I followed Matt into Peter's room where he was standing over Peter's crib and laughing.  Inside his bed stood our son, completely naked. 

His room smelled simply HORRIBLE.  His disgarded and thoroughly poopy diaper was folded up in one corner of his crib, his blanket sleeper unzipped and tossed aside on the opposite side of his bed.  As per usual, he was surrounded by a small menagere of stuffed animals. 

Nudey-Peter had his beloved Bunny clutched in his hands, a pacfier in his mouth and seemed as though he couldn't decide whether he was really proud of himself for getting all his clothes and diaper off or thoroughly scandalized by the entire ordeal.  As I mentioned the other day, he's been battling a bit of sickness and has had some very unfortunate diapers, we're just not sure why he didn't cry for us to come change him this time, as he has done these past few nights.

No, instead he took matters into his own hands and stripped down himself.

Matt was able to get him cleaned up, but not before he ran out onto the hall and peed all over the floor.  Then I got him dressed again while Matt stripped his bed.  After a great trial we finally pried Bunny out of his chubby little hands and the sheets along with all the little stuffed animals are now swirling around in the washing machine, hopefully getting the stink out.

Peter, my suddenly very grown up child, is in the living room watching a DVD of The Muppet Show (which he insisted on requested himself) and sucking on a pacifier which probably couldn't be pried out of his mouth even with the Jaws of Life. 

Thankfully he is still dressed.

I did it...

I just put A.J. down to sleep in her own room in her crib tonight.

She's been sleeping in the swing since about 7 and when we came up to bed at 10 she was awake and starting to fuss.  I changed her into a clean diaper and some clean jammies, nursed her, burped her and then wrapped her in one of her favorite swaddling blankets. 

Then I just went for it.  I carried her to her room and laid her down in her own bed.  I turned on her music player/picture projector soother thingy, ensured her pacifier was in tight and stepped back. 

I plugged in a nightlight by the door and tried to leave but I couldn't.

I went back to her and placed her pink bunny ( the one that is just like her brothers Beloved except for the color) beside her so she wouldn't be alone.  She looked up at me with her big eyes. I looked down at her for a long time.  Finally I kissed her forehead and patted her blankets tightly around her before forcing myself to back away again. 

I have no idea why this is so hard actually. 

With Peter I moved him over right around 6 weeks.  But in his case, I sort of HAD TO because he was outgrowing his bassinet.  When the time came, I just powered through.  I didn't want to be one of those Mom's who kept their babies in their rooms with them forever.  I wanted some of my independence back.

What the heck was I thinking?  They're only this tiny and needy for a few moments!

With A.J., 6 weeks just seemed too early, especially since at that point she wasn't sleeping well and we were in the height of the colicy-reflux drama.  Her pack and play has an infant sleep-incline built in so I just assumed she'd be more comfortable in there, and it was more convenient for me to get up with her.

But lately she hasn't been getting up so much.

She goes to "bed" each night around 7 in her swing, (the good one that we borrowed from our neighbor which sits in the corner of my bedroom and that I am probably going to just end up buying for her when we move in a couple weeks because she loves it so much.)  Sometime in the night she wakes up to eat after which I put her down in her pack and play next to me.  But other than that one feeding she's been sleeping through.  So really there is no reason for me to keep her in here with me. 

Except that I want to.

Too bad that's a sucky reason.

Why is this so hard?

Oh right, whatever it was I just said before about how they are only this small and needy for an instant practically.

I can't actually believe how big she is already.

I keep realizing how old she is now and looking back at my blog from when Peter was her age.  With him it seemed to take so much longer.  Why is it going so fast this time?  Why can't I hang on to these moments just a little longer.

I'll admit it.  I cried a little when I closed the door and left her in there.  (Don't tell Matt.  He'll only tease me about it.)

A few minutes later when her music player slowly faded out and turned itself off I sat up in bed, listening with baited breath to see if she'd be okay... if she'd start to cry.  If she needed me.

She didn't.  She doesn't.

Of course she doesn't.  I literally JUST fed her.  And she's been sleeping in the swing every night from about 7 to10 pm up here in our room just fine without me by her side.  There is no reason this should be any different.

But it's different for me.

I can hear her occasionally making little cooing sounds in her sleep through the monitor and I keep thinking how last night those noises were coming from right beside me.

I miss her.

Cute Kid Fix

Anyone craving some cute kid photos?

Enjoy!

A.J. found her thumb.

His future is so bright he's gotta wear shades....

Really hoping the camera angle is causing her head to look that big,
because seriously, I knew it was big, but like... damn.

Also, in like 14 years or so, I think there is an excellant chance
I'll be seeing this look from her again.  Probably a lot.

Guess he's comfortable?

 Finally, my personal fav from this bunch:


It's been cold lately, which is a bad thing, but on the plus side
I'll never get tired of dressing A.J. in her little bear suit. 



More Midnight Rambling

Matt and I had a pretty serious conversation about the snoring this morning. 

It went something like this:

Me: "Honey, I love you but I swear to God you snore like a chainsaw some nights and I just don't know if I can take it any more!!"

Him:  "I'm sorry..."

Me:  "If it happens tonight I'm going to kick your butt."

Him:  "Yes Dear."


Don't you just love when conversations with your husband about things he does that annoy you end that way? 

So then this evening we crawl into bed.  Because his back is still hurting him he hands me the tube of IcyHot, points towards his back and tells me he needs me to do him a favor.  I ask him what I am going to get out of this besides nasty, winter-green smelling hands.  He tells me he'll go sleep on the couch.

:)

For the record, he isn't on the couch.  He's beside me now, where he belongs, he just fell asleep on his side where he almost never snores.  Hallelujah!  Color me happy.

Unfortunately though, I'm still awake anyway.  Matt worked from home today (in order to avoid having to wear his dress uniform) so I was able to get about an hour of extra sleep in this morning and I'm feeling quite a bit less exhausted now than I did this time yesterday.

Also, I just got done feeding A.J.  I don't really think she was hungry actually.  She was asleep in her swing and she started fussing.  When I got her to nurse she suckled a little and then farted several times.  Then she fell promptly back to sleep. 

How nice right?  My baby needed me to help her fart. 

She is the gassiest baby, I swear!  Although, at least there's gas.  I'm thankful for the gas.  Because without the gas not much else seems to go on down there and when I think about how often I feed her in comparison to how rarely she has a movement, well, it'd just be mind boggling without the gas. 

Seriously, where does it all go???

Anyway.

For the first time in probably 10 years I'm laying in bed without the blissful white noise of the fan blowing.  I left it off tonight because it's raining pretty hard outside and the sound is soothing to me.  Also, in preparation to hopefully, maybe, probably move A.J. into her own room and crib soon, I moved the monitor out of Peter's room and into hers.  It's literally only been moved a grand total of maybe 18 inches, but there's a wall separating his noises from the transmitter now and I feel very nervous that since his sounds are now are coming at me rather muffled that with the fan on I'm going to miss them and not go to him when he needs me.  He's a bit sick right now, running a low fever, with a cough, a lousy appetite and some absolutely horrific diapers, so there is, actually, a legitimate reason for me to worry. 

Not that I need one.  I'd worry anyway.

So basically, instead of sleeping now when there's nothing to stop me, I'm sitting here typing and listening to the rain.  And listening to my husband thankfully NOT snoring.  And to the baby monitor.  And to the little buzzing sound of A.J.'s breathing from beside me in her pack and play.

Excellent Parenting 101

As taught by Daddy

Forced Optimism

On the plus side... at least when Matt goes to Iraq he won't be laying in bed next to me SNORING horribly each night and keeping me up. 

Also, I won't get his elbow or his knee smashing into me when he rolls over.

It's possible that we may be outgrowing our queen size bed.

Or maybe the dog just manages to take up far more than his fair share.

Hmmmmmm:

My weight is around 150.
Matt weighs around 200.
Brutus weighs about 20.

So of the 370 odd pounds of people and dog sleeping in this bed, the dog accounts for a little over 5%.

Yet he somehow manages to take up SO MUCH darn space.

Stupid dog.

Anyway, where was I?  Oh right....  the snoring.  And the elbowing.

Grrr.

Like he's the only one around here entitled to a descent night's sleep!

Unfortunately, he somehow hurt his back (again) this week so I am more hesitant than usual to try to roll him over.  Not that it would matter since it usually takes nothing short of an act of congress for me to get him to roll over anyway.

And he wonders why I've been so tired and grouchy lately!

Nobody wakes him up in the middle of the night wanting to suck on his nipples.

Oooh, but just think, when he's gone, if I want, I could also get flowery-lacy-frilly sheets if I wanted to and nobody will be around to stop me.  That might be a nice change....  maybe I'll get something really ridiculous and girlie with lots of pink and purple!



Oh HOLY heck!  How on Earth can his snoring actually be getting louder right now?!?!

I can't stand this! I am SO Stupidly tired right now.  A.J. had a horrible day today and cried for like hours and  HOURS and now I just want to go to sleep before she starts doing it again!!!

Screw this.  I'm going to do it.  I'm rolling him over.





Crap.

I failed.  I moved one of his pillows in preparation and he winced and shuddered, presumably because of the back pain so I backed off.  Now he's still snoring but it's simply a little softer, has changed timbre and is accompanied by this odd little gurgle noise occasionally. 

I can't stand this.


So like I said, at least I have SOMETHING stupid to look forward to about my husband deploying and leaving me alone with our two kids for a stupid year.

Pretty lousy exchange if you ask me.

Except right now, don't ask me, because I'm really tired.

Also, this post could serve as evidence for why I shouldn't keep my lap top next to my bed and log on to blogger in he middle of the night when I can't sleep.

Gastro Revisited

Today I took A.J. back in to see the Swedish Gastroenterologist.  Basically he wanted to do a follow up to ensure treatment was working and a weight check to ensure that she is still getting the proper dosage of the reflux meds as she grows. 

The nurse started by measuring her and found that she is now 23 inches long/tall.  Then we weighed her and she is now up to 12 pounds 8 1/2 ounces.  (I think... it was something like that anyway.  I might be off a few ounces either way because nobody wrote it down for me and my memory isn't great today.) 

I felt surprised, actually, that she wasn't bigger yet.  This morning I was holding her and rocking her and she was smiling and cooing and looking up at me sweetly and it occurred to me just how GIGANTIC she seems to have gotten lately.  Not that I ever had a small baby to begin with, but she just seemed really big suddenly.  Or, her head did... er, does, at least.  I'm kind of sad they didn't measure that today so I could see the percentile on it.

Also, these last couple days she been eating A LOT so I think maybe she's having a growth spurt.

For comparison, I checked his baby book and Peter went from being 12 lbs even at his 6 week checkup, to 13 lbs even at a 2  month visit we made for his goopy- eye/clogged tear duct, and then was 14 lbs 6 oz at his 3 months appointment.  A.J. will be 3 months next week, so even though she has done quite a lot of growing, she's still well below where he brother was (which in his case, was basically "off the charts" for awhile.) 

So, when the Doc came in he seemed pleased to see that she had grown so much (a few ounces shy of a whole pound) in about 3 weeks and gone from 50th percentile to 70th.  He said that is a good sign that despite her reflux and digestive "drama," she's still thriving.  Then we discussed her symptoms on the medicine and he adjusted her dosage for her new, larger size. 

He examined her again, listening to and poking at her chest and tummy while she grinned gummily up at him and practically batted her big blue eyes.  Then he put her on her tummy so he could listen from the back too and she started to flip out.  She hates being on her stomach, ever since that one time she rolled herself over off of it.  Then while he talked she practically rolled herself over onto her back again, she just needed help with the last little bit and he stood there watching, a little amazed at how strong she is.

That made me feel good because I worry that she doesn't get enough floor and tummy time as I am often so busy with her brother or just hesitant to put her down there to exercise lest she get upset and start screaming unnecessarily. 

Finally, he left her laying there on the exam table/bed thingy beside where I was standing and went to make some notes in his file.  I listened to him talk about coming back for another weight check just before we move and then I looked back at A.J. and noticed she was suddenly about 90% of the way back onto her stomach.

WHAT THE HECK?

Now she's going to start rolling over the other way on me?

I'm so not ready to have 2 mobile children!!!!

Anyway, so the moral of the story is that with meds, A.J. is doing well.  I have no idea how long we should expect to keep her on them, but at this point, I'm just happy to have her "colic" under control.  She still has her moments and my goodness can she ever carry on when she's unhappy but now, happily, the really, really bad crying fits are nearly always around the time when she's due for her afternoon dose. 

And let me just tell you it is SO nice to be able to give her something to ease her discomfort and calm her down.

I love you Prilosec.

The Last Sugar Cookie

Having successfully eaten our way through not only all of the Valentine's Day batch of sugar cookies, but also nearly the entire second batch that I made this weekend, I found myself faced with a dilemma:

There was only one cookie left.

There was also about 3/4 of a cup of leftover frosting taunting me from the fridge.

My solution?

Obviously I piled as much of that frosting right on top of that last cookie.

Yes, you're probably right, I DO have a problem.

And it's that there are never enough cookies for all the icing.

Sort of like the whole hot dog to hot dog bun ratio thing.

The world is doomed.

And, my tummy hurts.

Oregon Trail

The other day Matt happened to find the Oregon Trail game app for his iPhone.  He eagerly downloaded it and spent the better part of that entire evening playing.  Because seriously, who doesn't remember getting to play that game at school?  Oh the terrible computer graphics and the absolutely insanely slow screen loading times!  Although honestly, why we ever thought it was fun to play, having our party members slowly killed off one by one by drownings, typhoid, dysentery and malaria is completely beyond me now.  Honestly, I don't think my party ever even made it to Oregon.

(There's a pretty decent chance I wasn't any good at that game.)

But it was school, and playing computer games at school always trumped doing any actual learning though reading and like, math.

So first Matt tells me that he's created his family.  Naturally there are the parents, Matt and Jen, and our three children. 

What?  Where did he get THREE? 

Our oldest son Peter. 
Our daughter A.J.
and our youngest son, Brutus.

Naturally. 

(Technically though, shouldn't Brutus be our oldest?)

Anyway so that evening we were watching television and Matt was playing his game.  Suddenly out of nowhere he sort of gasped and started to laugh.  When I asked what was so funny he told me that an eagle had come along.  Eagles are so majestic, the game had said. 

And then that eagle carried of Peter and he was never seen or heard from again.

Wait a minute.. WHAT?!?!?


Our beloved first born was carried off by an eagle?!?!?

That's terrible!

NEVER seen or heard from again?!?!?!

How awful!

What happened to the typhoid and the malaria  and the drownings?  I was prepared for those.  But, but, but...kidnapped by an eagle?!?!?!

Sheesh!!

At least if the game had killed off Brutus to an eagle that would make sense in my head since he is actually our dog after all and things like that have actually been known to happen.  To dogs.  NOT children.

The lesson I'm learning here is that clearly I would have made a terrible pioneer despite all the time I spent enjoying the Laura Ingalls Wilder books when I was a child.  I could have never gotten over the loss of my son...

...to an eagle of all things. 



Also, I don't have an desire to live in Oregon either.

It's pouring rain outside....

I bet he's wondering whether or not he's going to get a walk today.

Peter's Check-Up

Yesterday afternoon I took my boy in for his 18 month well-baby physical.  Except, well, we got behind a little so it was more like 19 1/2 months (exactly.) 

He weighed in 27.8 pounds which is 80th percentile on the World Health Organization growth charts.  (Recently our pediatrician's office switched to those charts, so I'm not entirely sure how his current percentiles compare to those they reported to us before.)  Anyhow, he is now a gigantic seeming 33 1/2 inches tall, which is the 60th percentile and his head measures a whopping 50 centimeters around (95th percentile.)

The doc seemed pleased again with his overall growth and well-being, despite the major stall (or even back-tracking) he's had verbally.  She heard him "speaking" quite a bit during our visit and still feels he's on track for his age.  She also seemed a little sad that this would most likely be our last visit with her (barring any freak accidents or illnesses in the next few weeks of course.)  She kept saying "Well, Peter..." sounding all melancholy and then telling him, "you're doing good!!"

After she left the nurse came in and gave Peter the last two of his baby shots. One in each thigh.  AND HE DIDN'T EVEN CRY!  (Although, he did start to whimper, and probably would have cried for real if a third shot had been needed.)

Seriously though...

the LAST of his baby shots?

NO TEARS?

What happened to my baby?

Crap.  So much for no tears, because just thinking about this is about to make me cry.

A Couple Videos

I've been trying to get these to upload for a few weeks now but until today haven't had any success.

Happily, today was different though.  First, here is some of A.J. happily playing in her baby gym with her kick mat:

For this next one, I needed to capture a bit of Peter and his "demanding finger."  He's been attempting to boss us around with that finger of his for many months now, but lately he is very specific in his demand.  Not only does he point at what he wants, but he points just where he wants us to put it.  It took a bit of prompting to get him to do it for the camera, but, you'll see what I mean:

More Valentine's Fun

I was under the impression when Matt left for work this morning that he'd be there for a full day and I wouldn't be seeing him until the late afternoon at the very earliest.  Needless to say, as the afternoon began I was breathing a gigantic sigh of relief at having successfully gotten my son fed some lunch and laid down for a nap after an eventful morning which included, among other shenanigans, him throwing quite a lot of dirt... a charming new game of his while playing in the backyard.

Despite the holiday, I was also suffering from the most overwhelming case of "the Mondays" having woken up "on the wrong side of the bed" and was sitting there glowering, alternating between staring absent minded at Facebook and in the general direction of the fitfully sleeping face of my daughter when I heard my husband come in early.

And with him, he brought flowers...

So beautiful!

Yes I know it is a day for flowers, but I promise you I expected no such thing.  I suppose this made the gesture all the more lovely.

A.J. seemed to think they were for her.

Don't worry baby, Mama can share.

Thankfully, Peter ended up sleeping for a good, long, GLORIOUS, 3 hours.  I suppose he figured out it was in his best interest to give me a nice long break should he hope to go on living much longer.

Matt and I spent the time playing with A.J.  It seems sometimes that we never really get to just enjoy her since we're often so busy with her big brother and just generally trying to keep her happy.

She asked if she could try on Mommy's glasses



Pretty Girl



When Peter finally did wake up, he immediately spotted the flowers and wanted to smell them.

It's a whole thing he does.  He's really into smelling stuff right now.  Most of the time afterward he'll giggle and say "Eeeew!" like whatever it was smells bad and then he wants you to smell too.  I'm pretty sure Daddy taught him this game using socks. 

Also, just before we went out to walk Brutus, Peter and Grace needed to exchange their Valentines.  Here is the one we made for her.

He colored it all by himself.

Such artistic talent that boy has!

 Here are the two love birds friends exchanging cards.

Aw, young love.  So sweet and dear.

But um, they look like little kids standing there with their cards.  What happened to our babies?

Happy Valentine's Day!

Yummy Sugar Cookies... a necessary part of any holiday celebration.



The sweet little face of my smallest Valentine.



She's getting to be a chubby baby :)



Heart Clad baby tooshie ;)



A little bit of Brother and Sister Love



A Big Brother's Valentine's Kiss



Peter with the "card" we finger painted for Daddy last week. 
Unfortunately the only way I could get him to stand in front of it
was to give him one of those sugar cookies to eat...



"All you need is Love" 
(A great sentiment, but in the case of my medium-sized Valentine, not entirely true as Mama
 had to provide that healthy dose of sugar this morning to bring out his smile.)

 And of course, not to be forgotten:

My #1 Valentine.
Love you babe.  I'm glad to have a husband who I can always
count on to enjoy acting  like an idiot right along side me.

Anything you won't eat, I can eat better...

Unlike my son, it seems the dog actually WILL eat raisins:

Random Recent Pictures

Trying out the Baby Bjorn with A.J. facing forward for the first time.



High Flyer



Grace and her Daddy peeking over the fence to say hello.  Peter was VERY happy to see them.



A.J. making faces



Apparently they both enjoy Sesame Street...



Happy Baby Girl!!

(And alright, I'll admit it, I'm posting this one because I LOVE her new outfit!)



Peter and Grace fingerpainting.



Daddy "taking care" of A.J. just before Mommy went out to run errands.  (Peter was napping.)

It's amazing to me how many of these the dog ended up in.

Through a Mother's Eyes

Maybe it was a bad combination of hormones and pain killers but just after Peter was born I remember sitting there in my hospital bed holding him and thinking how he looked so familiar.  I'm sure I'd spent the better part of his pregnancy wondering what he would look like when I finally met him, so I guess it was natural that I was so fascinated by the way he looked.

I mean, obviously, I thought he looked like his Daddy.  This was mostly, because somehow, at just a few hours old, our son already seemed to exhibit that same odd sense of humor and care free self confidence that sort of exudes from my husband.  Sometimes this is charming.  Other times it annoys the crap out of me.  Either way, I'm not entirely sure he can help it. 

But that afternoon, as I stared at my tiny new first born baby boy, he reminded me of someone else.  He looked to me, very much like a little handsome prince.  My GOSH doesn't that ever sound like complete new-mother schmaltz?  Seriously though, he looked like royalty to me.  I'm sure it was the perfect roundness of his little head and the odd little way his hair naturally parted itself perfectly on one side. 

At any rate, what I was looking at was this:

But what I saw was a teeny version of this:





 (Definitely must have been the drugs.)

I stared down at him longer.  He just looked like... some one.  A little boy off something on TV maybe? I had the face of some other little boy in my head that he reminded me of, but I just couldn't put my finger on who it was. 

As the weeks passed and he got older, the (imagined?) resemblance grew stronger, but I was still unable to place the other little boy. 

Peter at about a week old.

Until, the new season of Desperate Housewives came around in the fall and I saw this little boy who as it turns out is named Mason Vale Cotton and plays M.J. Delfino, the son of Terri Hatcher's character on the show:

 It was him!

Or, um, that was the little boy Peter reminded me of. 

Well, I'm still not sure if I was crazy or not, but I sure was relieved to finally figure out who it was I'd been thinking of. 

And also, last Spring, after his brown newborn hair had all fallen out and and his blond hair started to come in, I started to see the resemblance again:

Or maybe I'm on crack....

For the record, back in those early first few weeks, the perfection of my little prince didn't last.  First, there was the very charming baby acne:

Then the front part of his hair fell out:

Which unfortunately made him look a lot like this guy instead:

Except without the eyebrows. 

Holy COW, why doesn't Peter have eye brows in that last picture?!?!?

Anyway, sorry Mr. Alexander, but you are NO Prince Charming.

Thankfully, Peter grew out of that.

Now I'm sure you're all wondering:  WHY on Earth am I bringing this up now?

Well, obviously it's because of Peter's fall and head bump yesterday.  Last night as we were putting him to bed I just couldn't stop looking at his baby pictures and remembering how stinking perfect he was. 

Matt reminded me that he's always been our little Hurricane.  Our neighbor often refers to him as a Whirlwind.  He's always on the go, running never walking and climbing up on everything.  It's like he just can't wait to explore and see everything that this world has to offer. 

He's fearless!

(Well, maybe not QUITE so fearless after yesterday.)

Here he is this morning.

Chicks dig scars!

Even with the bump on his head, I still think he kind of looks like that kid on Desperate Housewives.  But beyond that, he definitely is going to use that mug of his to charm his way into the hearts of the ladies when he gets older just the way he charmed his way into mine on the day that he was born. 

Oh.

Wait....

Never mind.  I just went to the fridge to put Peter's milk away.  There on the door I saw the following picture hanging and realized it's ALREADY started.

 "Peda" the Whirlwind with his beloved Grace last summer.