Update: 7 months!

Dear Adrian,

This month has been trying for all of us. We've moved from Lawton, Oklahoma to Rock Island, Illinois where we're staying with your grandparents Flecker. They have been generous and welcoming and more than willing to entertain you so that your father and I could go see a movie. In a movie theatre. All by ourselves. For the first time since you were born. These are the things you should take into account when you're planning on children of your own someday.
The theme of this month has been twofold: "what does this taste like?" and "I do it myself". Both of which have had their moments of hilarity--do all babies wind up with their dinner behind their ears? As well as providing us with moments of heart-stopping terror. Please do not attempt to eat the cats again.
I'd have to say that this past month, your monkey brain was working overtime, as you have reached the point of near-instant mimicry. Turn on the faucet? You know how to do that. Take the lid of a sippy cup? You've figured that one out, too--much to our damp dismay. You're also attempting to bypass crawling altogether in favor of pulling yourself up and cruising from place to place. Thankfully your tiny hands aren't quite strong enough for you to get a good hold on the furniture. This house is lovely, and a complete death trap for babies and curious monkeys. (Glass everywhere!)
your father is under the foolish impression that you will be easier to deal with once you start crawling. I am under no such delusion, and I endeavor daily to keep you interested in other things. For I know that once you crawl, the world becomes your snack bar. I have spent many days preventing other peoples children from ingesting hazardous materials, and I know how fast you buggers can move.
Which brings us to the topic of your diet. In keeping with the self-reliant theme, you are far more interested in table food than any 7 month old has a right to be. We've taken to pulling your chair right up to the table with us at dinner time, and you have figured out that what you are eating is not what we are eating. And that makes you angry. Angry like a tiny tasmainian devil: grrr-grunt-snarl.
Other things that make you angry: bed time. At the beginning of this month, I cut you some slack because you were in an unfamiliar house in an unfamiliar bed. But now you're just being stubborn. And WHY are you waking up 2-3 times a night to eat? You can't possibly be hungry. No one can eat as much as you do and still be hungry. You're already in clothing for babies twice your age. Slow down! You're still going to have to wait to start kindergarten, so there's no rush getting so large so fast.
It's been a heck of a month, kiddo, and you've sailed through it beautifully. I'm proud of you & your adaptability.

Love you,
Mama

Checking your calendars?

Don't bother.

It is indeed Memorial Day, and Adrian is indeed 7 months old. And I have yet to write his monthly update. I'll get there, but I'm working on a tiny laptop keyboard that belongs to my much-traveled mother in law. And when she goes out of town for work the computer goes too. Factor in that we're on a dial-up connection, and I miss my speedy internet. As well as missing my photo editing software. We're "getting around" to setting up Aaron's computer and subscribing to speedy service, but until then just bear (grrrowl) with me.

We've been to all kinds of neat places in the area: farmer's market, gardentown USA, the walking paths along the Mississippi river. And you too will experience them once we get around to it. It's a lovely area, and so far above Lawton, OK in terms of teeth-to-head ratio.

I've got to go work on dinner (Indian food-yum,yum!), but keep checking in and I promise not to disappoint those of you with patience.

Holy crap

Have we been busy!

Not only have we moved from Lawton, Oklahoma to Rock Island, Illinois we've also visited with 8 extended family members (hey y'all!), scouted out houses for sale (I can dream, can't I?), arranged a marriage for our sweet boy (in jest), and gotten over a head cold. Adrian's still congested and living in fear of the snot-sucking bulb, but he's in MUCH better spirits than he was 2 days ago.
Our cats (lunchbox & jack) are still adjusting to the resident cats (ming & beau), with much less fighting than in the first couple of days--but there's still hissing and growling to be heard from various areas of the house.
Now it's time for our evening walk, and I hope to be posting pictures and more soon.

Did you miss me?

Bye bye!

(Photo) Seventy-twoth street

We pass by this sign on our morning walk and it always makes me giggle. Tomorrow will be our last chance to see Seventy-twoth street before we have to pack up and head out.
It's been a strange few years here in Oklahoma. There are things that'll be missed: Roses in December, Korean restaurants, the nice cashiers at the grocery store. And there are things to which I say good riddance: Summer temperatures over 100 degrees (Fahrenheit), car stereos so loud that the windows of our house vibrate, large dogs running loose in the streets, the way the carpets smell when it's humid (a cross between a damp wool sweater, mildew, and cat urine).
It's been quite a trip, Oklahoma.
Thanks for the memories.

Letting the feline out of the suitcase

Since it's immanent, I may as well go ahead and make it public.
We're blowing this popsicle stand!
Yes, within a matter of days (DAYS, do you hear?) we'll be headed north-eastward to spend some time with Aaron's folks in Illinois. I say "some time" because the length of our stay depends on a number of factors--none of which I'll be sharing with you, nosy internet.
All of this leads to some serious anxiety on my part, as I happen to be uncharacteristically anal retentive when it come to moving--and I will not be around when the packing of boxes occurs. I just feel that I should know the contents of a box before I even open it, which admittedly leads to a very odd packing scheme.(Measuring spoons, cups, muffin tins, jello molds, candle molds, crayons, coloring books, bubbles, and a pink sequined star wand all go in a box together. In my head, this makes sense) Also, I've never had to move as a household before, so it's probably best that professionals will be handling all of the boxing & shipping. It's a good thing that I have a baby to distract me, or I may have to take up biting my nails--something I gave up in the first grade.

So yes! Illinois, here we come!
Brace yourself.

(Photo) Return of Green Army Man! 

Update: 6 months!

(Photo) Happy day to me.

Dear Ad-rock*,

You're six months old! Hooray for you. You weigh 18.1 pounds and you're 26ish inches long--and just six months ago you were small enough to fit inside of my uterus. It's a crazy crazy world.

This past month, your father has been on leave and has spent many hours entertaining you. I love that he's able to see you discover new things. We've worked out a little schedule, the three of us, and I'm going to miss him when he starts back to work. You and I get up around 8am: you get a diaper change, I brush my teeth and then we head to the kitchen where you take up residence in your high chair and push around Cheerios while I make and eat breakfast. At 8:45/9am it's time for another diaper change and play time on the floor or in the exersaucer. At 9:30, you nurse and doze off while I watch Molto Mario and your dad gets up. At 10, your dad and I watch the Gilmore Girls and rock-paper-scissor over who has to change your poopy diaper. Then at 11:30 it's time for your morning bowl of oatmeal, followed by our morning walkie--half way through that you doze off. The afternoons are more flexible, with a loose schedule of eating, playing and napping. Dinner is served by 6pm, at which point you enjoy fruits or veggies and a zwieback or biscuit. After dinner is evening walkies, story time, bath time, and finally bedtime.

Now that you're rolling all over the place, putting you down in your bed awake only prolongs the screaming protest that precedes sleep. And I have to ask, what is it about sleep that you find so horrifying? I read about all of these babies that love sleep, and I wonder what knowledge they possess that you missed out on. I fear that sleep shall be a hurdle for the rest of your life. Sleep seems to be the only thing that keeps you from making the one noise that shall end all noises; the dreaded baby grunt. Eeennnnnnnnhhg. Eeennnnnnnhhg. Eeennnnnhhg. It's hard to convince us that you're not tired when you're alternately grunting, yawning, and rubbing your eyes. Nice try, though.
Eeennnnnhhg.
The worst noise in the world.

Most of the time, however, you're the funniest baby I know. The strangest things get you all excited and cause the happy-baby-arm-banging dance: sitting on the kitchen floor, the cats (doing--or not doing--anything), pictures of turtles, otters, and dolphins. You also get all excited and squirmy when your dad first gets up in the morning. And why wouldn't you? He's the guy that makes you shriek with laughter. The other day he got you to say banana, by looking at you and repeating BA-NA-NA over and over. You haven't said it since, so I don't know if that counts as your first word. Lately your favorite sound is "ba", so I've been pointing to pictures of sheep and letting you know that in theory the two of you could hold a conversation. You don't seem all that interested in sheep, which is fine. Your favorite color is still yellow--causing the excited arm-banging whenever something yellow is in your field of vision--which makes stuffed ducks your plaything of choice. This affords me plenty of opportunities to sing "put down the ducky" (a Sesame Street classic). Yes it's silly, but you'll soon come to find out that silly is encouraged in this household.

Happy six months, my squirmy baby.

Love,
Mama

*A la Beastie Boys. You, too, dig their crazy rhymin' style and funky beats. (Because you're no average rock-a-bye baby)

(photo) This is what it's all about. 

(photo) For me? 

(Photo) This goes here.