What an awesome weekend!
Three summers ago, I joined a listserv for women who were either trying to conceive or considering it. I made several really great friends on that list, and we eventually broke off and formed our own separate list. We had babies (some of us several times over); we made life changes. These were among my best girlfriends, and I never met a one of them in person.
When Bekki told me she'd be in Toledo this weekend, I nearly didn't believe her. It was the truth, but it seemed such a foreign concept. To meet? In person? How novel! How daring!
To anyone outside, looking in, it might have seemed a dull time. We ate pizza and watched a movie while our sons played on the floor. We played a board game. It was special, though, by virtue of its feeling so natural. I honestly felt as though I'd known her forever - and, well, I have.
The only surprise was her voice. I don't know why I expected a younger, higher voice. Amusingly, she said that she'd expected the same from me.
We must do that again sometime, you!
So, I'm at my wit's end with Sam's chin. His drooling makes it red, peely, and itchy (he rubs it on my shoulder and cries) and nothing I do to help has any consistently positive effect. Lansinoh helps sometimes; Vitamin E oil helps on other days. Neosporin seems to occasionally clear it up when it gets raw-looking, and occasionally a bit of baby lotion alleviates the scaliness.
On some days, though, it just won't be helped. I feel like crying myself when he starts the chin rub. "Bad mommy!" his whimpers seem to say. "Why won't you make it better?" Oh, baby, I'm trying. I'm trying! The poor child itches worst when he's waking up, or perhaps that's just when he's least able to cope with it.
Today is a "good chin day." He has one tiny red mark, but the rest doesn't look too awful. I'm surprised; we went out to the grocery store earlier, and going out usually makes it much worse. In fact, he was doing the rub while we were standing in the checkout line. I'm mystified, but grateful, not to be looking at a small red baby goatee of flakes.
All I want for Christmas are his two front teeth (to finish cutting). Think Santa's got a couple of those in his sack?
Why in the world does every vocalist, when performing O, Holy Night, have to pronounce the word "divine: as "dee-vine"? It's dih-vine, people.
I mentioned in the weblog that Sam's outgrown all his diapers and diaper covers. (When did that happen?) I ordered more, to the accompaniment of Eric's grumbling. Eric's not to be blamed for his discomfort, though; I probably did, too, give him the impression that the initial outlay of funds for diapers was going to carry us further through Sam's first year of life.
He's a big boy, though. I honestly am not sure how much he weighs. I estimated, based on the oh-so-scientific method of weighing myself and then re-weighing while holding the baby, him to be around eighteen or nineteen pounds before Thanksgiving. Then I picked up baby Chloe, my cousin's two-month-old, who weighs eleven pounds. Wow. I begin to believe I was underestimating Sam's size. Dad thinks the boy is probably about twenty pounds.
We have a doctor's appointment this Friday, so I'll find out for certain then. I imagine they'll also try to give me the go-ahead to start him on solids then, too. Honestly, though, we're trying to wait a bit longer. From what I've read, eczema can be a sign of a tendency toward allergies, and since the sooner one starts a food, the easier it is to develop an allergy...well, another month or two won't hurt. He's certainly thriving without rice cereal. I did buy him a sippy cup that intrigued him at the store, but as near as I can tell, he thinks it's a big, blue water globe. Shake, shake, shake! Good thing it's leak-proof.
He does seem interested in our food. I think he just wants to give it the same treatment as his cup, so for now we're just distracting him while we eat. I give him spoons to bang and straws to chew, and he seems mostly content. When all is said and done, he's easy to please most of the time.
I'm sure I'll have to be on the lookout for "helpful" relatives trying to feed him over the holidays, though.
one year ago:
"Um, See, Boss-Lady, I kind of...that is to say, I've found myself...Eric and I, that is, we...Oh, dear."
two years ago:
Seems like we're always waiting: waiting for jobs, waiting for pregnancy tests, waiting for graduation.