In two days you will be ten months old. We'll be heading to the doc's office next week to ensure Project Weight Gain 2008 is working and that you are gaining as much as you should be for someone your age. You certainly feel heavier. It must be the fat-laden menu we have developed for you. Gone are the days when you would snack on fruits and vegetables alone. Now, you are also consuming large quantities of cheese - Tillamook Medium Cheddar is your current favorite, and inordinate amounts of Greek yogurt - you prefer honey yogurt to the fig and pomegranate varieties. Just this morning you enjoyed your first buttermilk pancakes, sans syrup of course. The dog remains somewhat annoyed by your presence but you're earning points by accidentally-on-purpose dropping the occasional piece of food on the floor, which we allow Beauty the wonder dog to pick up once dinner is over and we've left the table.
You are more curious and more mobile than you were a month ago and we expect this trend to continue until you're about eighty or so. Yeah, eighty years old is when we predict you'll start to slow down. For now, we've noticed that you are steadier on your feet when you pull yourself up. Your crawl would likely break the current land speed record. You sashay across the room so confidently, and with great determination when you see something you want to acquire. The introduction of and more abundant use of the bear crawl has us believing you'll be walking soon. This both scares and thrills us. Our lil' man walking...where are your big feet going to take you?
Your hair has grown long enough to start hanging in your eyes, which means your first haircut will be sooner rather than later. We'll have to find a suitable barber as I refuse to take you to the weird lady that cuts your dad's hair. (Although, if we were guaranteed to get the gentleman who works at that barbershop, I'd be okay with that.) Truth be told, I'm excited about locating a kid-friendly establishment that offers those cool car chairs for you to sit in. Part of me wants to believe the miniature car seat would enthrall you to the point of introspection, thereby allowing the hair stylist to cut the hair of a calm and centered baby. But part of me thinks the sight of the car and the presence of a faux steering wheel would excite you. Excitement and scissors don't mix. They especially don't mix when alcohol is involved. Consider that a lesson for the future. (This was in no way meant to imply that folks cutting hair at these types of establishments are alcoholics.)
We traveled to southern Utah with our good friend, and most patient of drivers, Ms. Ann. You were a surprisingly good baby considering two days before we left you were at the doctor's office and diagnosed with strider cough. You were shot full of steroids to reduce the swelling around your vocal chords. We dubbed you "snot rocket" because your nose leaked (and is still leaking) an alarming amount of gross baby snot. Ewww, son. There was much coughing, extremely long car rides, and we had some difficulty finding organic anything but we did okay. You dined on homemade chow (carrots, potatoes, etc.) and tried your first marshmallow 'cuz, hey! It's your vacation, too. Sleeping was challenging but you were a champ. My biggest complaint would be that you consistently turned sideways in bed so that no matter where you were situated when you fell asleep, you were always hogging the bed, leaving only a sliver on the side for me, when I came in the room to join you. That and I was constantly waking up at every real and imagined sound to check that you had not fallen off the extremely high bed. A fall from that height would not have been something you would have appreciated.
I had great fear there would be trouble on the plane, that you would be the most problematic child ever to fly or that Delta would kick me off the plane and leave me stranded somewhere for breastfeeding you during takeoff. I worried for nothing because you were perfect and Delta behaved commendably. I won't say the crew was overjoyed to see yet another baby on the plane but they hadn't already pegged you as an evil flier baby either. I even got a few smiles from the rather stoic stewardesses when they were coming by with their carts of goodies.
Getting you to sleep at home is working well. There are, and I presume will continue to be, those nights when you just have a hard time going down no matter what we try. I would guess those days are either days when teething is the major cause of disruption or days when we have completely missed your sleep cues and pushed you beyond your limits. For all of the other nights, though, our routine is simple and uninspired - dinner, light play, bathtime, reading and nursing, placement in crib. Any initial resistance is inevitably felled by your own desire to sleep.
At times it seems so silly to try and track your advances when you are busy changing every second. You are constantly growing and learning and trying and failing and trying again. You give new meaning to the word incredible.Love,
Mom
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