This little piggy....

(photo) baby feet!

I thought I'd end the year with a picture of one of my favorite things: baby feet. Happy New Year's Eve, everybody! Let's hope that next year Mother Nature doesn't feel the same need to impress us with her ability to destroy our homes and families.
And in trivial news, Adrian finally pooped today, on day 11 of the great colon strike of 2004. Enough to fill 3 diapers while on the changing table.
I'll have to admit, I was impressed and horrified at the same time. How can so much come out of such a tiny person?
Maybe he's a robot....

For your viewing pleasure!

(photo) Wee bunny

Here is Adrian modeling the very cute bunny hat sent to him by Auntie Nessa and Uncle Sandy (sorry I haven't called you back yet!)
Now it is time to feed the wee bunny, so I shall sign off.
Much love to all.

(photo) Adrian and Mama 

Stethoscopes and needles, oh my!

We have survived the first round of Adrian's vaccinations! And I must say, hooray for Infant Tylenol.
Adrian did really well at his doctor's appointment yesterday, and made it through his shots with minimal screaming. Aaron was the one who took him back and witnessed the vaccinations because I am too much of a weenie to do so. And while Adrian was crying from being stuck with needles, I cried a little too.
Now the good stuff!
Adrian weighs 12 pounds, 4 ounces and is 24 inches long.
(That's almost a 4 pound weight gain from his birth weight, and a 3 inch increase in length. What can I say? The boy eats like a champ.)

Update: 8 weeks!

(photo) Baby power!

Dear Adrian,

Taa-daah! You're 8 weeks old! Well, 8 weeks and a few days--I'm a little behind.
But you! You're totally holding your head up on your own, as well as exploring all of the possible noises that you can make around the basic sound "aaah". My favorite is the ga-aah-ack that accompanies one of your lovely toothless grins. The same toothless grins that we receive every morning when you wake up in bed next to us. You can be quite the charmer.
On the other hand, you can also make our ears bleed when you scream and nothing we can do will make it better. It's those times when being a parent seems overwhelming and we wonder how anyone ever does it.
But then you turn around and do something that makes us giggle like 3rd graders...like last night when you farted in the bathtub. Or when you get hungry in the middle of the night and start sucking your thumb...which doesn't sound funny, but the way you place your thumb in your mouth your other 4 fingers are pointed up towards your forehead, so as you suck you're whacking yourself in the nose. You don't seem to mind that as much as you mind not getting milk from your own digit.
We've started to put you on your belly on the floor for supervised play time--you think it's great for 7 minutes, and then frustration sets in. But those first seven minutes have you kicking your feet and lifting your head and giggling.
Every day I marvel at how much I can love you and how small and helpless you are. I love when you support yourself on your legs while I hold you steady and you look at me like "what are you doing?"
I'm less fond of your attempts to pee on me when I change your diaper--you got me twice last week and you managed to get yourself a couple of times, too. There was a lot of laundry to be done. You've already outgrown all of your newborn sized clothing and are in the 3-month size now. If you continue to grow at this rate we should be able to send you to kindergarten when you're 3, and we'll probably have to take out a small loan to pay for all of the shoes and clothing you'll need as you grow like a bean vine. Or we can just follow your father's fashion-savvy advice and put you in a flour sack.
These past 4 weeks your personality has started to shine through and we have really enjoyed watching you take in the world. You seem to enjoy our weekly outings to the grocery store, and you no longer wail in protest when you're placed in your car seat.
You still haven't pooped, though, and I'm beginning to suspect you're saving it up to deliver at the doctors tomorrow when you receive your vaccinations. (Serve them right, too, sticking you with a needle!) The pediatrician has told us not to be concerned about your lack of a movement unless you exhibit certain symptoms--and giggling at your dad's rendition of heavy metal songs as operatic arias isn't one of them.
We love you little man (and we're sorry we have to take you to be stuck with needles).
Love,
Mama

Weary Parents

(photo) All I want for Christmas....

All I want for Christmas is a baby who sleeeeeeps instead of screeeeeeeams.
That's right folks! We're here in week two of the developmental stage called "screaming for no reason". He's been fed, burped, changed, swaddled, unswaddled, left in his crib, carried around, rocked, and sung to. All of these efforts give us, at most, a 5 minute reprieve from the angry beasties that have possessed our son.
To top all that off, it's been six days since Adrian last pooped. Aaron's convinced that he's just seriously in need of a good movement to make him feel better...Which has led Aaron to say things like "poop for Daddy".
(At least we can find a few moments of humor in between banging our heads against the walls)

(photo) Further evidence: she thinks she's people. 

(photo) The general consensus.

(photo) The general consensus.

We are a sleepy bunch 'round here. Maybe it's the shortening days, maybe it's the nightly feedings.
The one thing you can count on is a good long afternoon nap, shared by both baby and myself.
Tomorrow is the Winter Solstice (known in some circles as Yule)--the longest night of the year and the time when the seasons begins to tilt towards spring. Hooray for spring!
Also, something neat happens here.
We'll be eating quiche and putting silly hats on the baby.

(photo) Lunchbox, the camera slut. 

(photo) December in Oklahoma 

gaaaah...

My brain has turned to oatmeal. And not the good kind of oatmeal, but the generic-store-brand-microwaveable kind.
I apologize for the sporadic postings of late, but Adrian is in the midst of rearranging his schedule. If he wasn't such a cutie, I'd probably be sitting in the corner like a lobotomy patient. As it is currently my ability to form sentences and get them out of my mouth intact is severely damaged.
Par example:
How go with the thing in the square?
translation: How about you put that DVD in the player?
It's a wonder Aaron talks to me at all anymore.

Also, I was thinking that using a smaller plate as a means of portion control is probably not so effective when you refill the plate twice.

Ta ta for now,
Oatmeal for brains.

(photo) Adrian and Aaron

(photo) Adrian and Aaron.

As per your many requests, here's a photo of Adrian and his daddy. It's not the greatest of photos, but Aaron rarely sits for a photo--so count your blessings.
Also, check out our awesome box collection behind Aaron. It's a fort for the cats. (Yes, we're those people)

A busy week!

Hello all!
Happy holidays!
This week has been a full one for little Adrian. Monday he and Lunchbox had a staring contest, Tuesday was another horrible pooping incident, Wednesday he accompanied me to my doctors appointment--and had to wait to eat...Which put him in a terrible mood for the rest of the day. His screams can (and will) melt the wax right out of your ears.
On Friday, he'll be six weeks old. It's hard to believe that six weeks ago he was living inside of me. And now he's his own little person. A person that can only look out of the beloved window for short stretches of time before demanding a new activity. I'm running out of ways to entertain a person who can't sit or stand on their own and has wobbly head control.

Enjoy the photos, as they won't commence screaming or do any pooping.

(photo) The window! 

(photo) Check out my cute jammies! 

(photo) A small smile. 

(photo) Baby, meet Cat. Cat, Baby. 

Not just a mom...

I'm also a bed, apparently.
Lately the little man has been refusing to sleep unless he's in physical contact with someone. Right now, he's asleep on my chest while I type this. I'd love to be able to put him in his bed and have him sleep there, but every time I put him down he wakes up. I don't have the cojones to just leave him there--it seems cruel to let him "scream it out". He's far too little to figure out that he's not been abandoned, we've just left him to sleep on his own. Maybe I'm just expecting too much from him. After all, he's only 39 days old.
On the other hand, it'd be great to be able to do stuff that I have to stand up to accomplish while he's sleeping .
Is it too much to hope that it'll all sort itself out?

Are you kidding me?

Today, Adrian has been eating every hour on the 40 minute mark.
I am officially nothing more than milk-on-tap.
(Again with the stuff nobody mentions until the baby gets here)
Aaron suggested I mix it up and try to create white Russians on tap.
I don't think I'm up to that challenge just yet--I haven't perfected the groove in the recliner where my butt has been ALL FREAKING DAY.

(photo) Clean baby!

Because there are few things in life cuter than a baby in a hooded towel.
Enjoy!