Indian food for dinner

Last night I had Chicken Tikka Masala for dinner (my absolute favorite), and then I dreamt that I was back in the hospital in labor. Except that I delivered a brightly colored parrot instead of Adrian.
Is it possible that my son is actually a bird and I just haven't noticed?

Update: 3 months!

(photo) All grown up.

Sweet Adrian,

Today you are three months old! It's hard to believe that 13 weeks ago you were living inside of me.
This past month you've really begun to shine. You insist on sitting up (with assistance) whenever the opportunity arises, which means that play time is now twice the work for us as we have to keep you from tumbling over with one hand and parade toys in front of you with the other. You've taken to clasping your hands in front of you which is very cute, but not very good for holding things--you've knocked yourself in the face a couple of times while clutching your rattle and trying to clasp your hands. Another new development is that you rub your feet together when you're happy or excited about something--a trait you apparently received from your Grandpa Flecker. We call it your "cricket feet". In addition to that you've amassed a few other noteworthy nicknames:
Mister mister (Courtesy of your father, usually used when you're fussing)
Sir Hiccupson the Gallant (You get the hiccups regularly...It's fairly amusing)
Dr. Ion (from A-dr-i-an...dr. i. an...Dr. Ion! We figure you can use it if you ever become a super villain a la Marvel Comics)
Wee Man
Lizard Boy (You stick your tongue out like you're tasting the air when you get hungry)

This month you've also taken to "talking" to your father when he gets home. He then talks to you in various accents, which you think is hilarious. I really enjoy your shrieks of joy in response to his rendition of an Irish Brogue. You usually converse back and forth while you stand on his lap, clutching his thumbs for balance. You're not nearly as expansive when you babble at me...I suspect that your first words will be to your father. I love to watch the two of you interact.

You and I spend all day together; eating and napping in the morning and then eating and going for a walk or playing on the floor (depending on the weather) capped off with your monster afternoon nap.
You've become more aware of your environment, but don't yet have the ability to explore it on your own--which means that I spend most of my day as a toy-prop. Your favorite two toys are a book with pictures of animals in it and a rattle in the shape of the sun. I know that you enjoy these because you babble and do cricket feet when you see them. Other toys get 15 seconds of your attention, but those two work for 3-4 minutes each. We've tried the Baby Einstein: Baby Bach video but you'll only watch from someone's lap and only for a few minutes at a time.

Each day with you is a joy. Which isn't to say that I don't ever feel exhaustion or frustration (because then I'd be a robot), but your sunny disposition really takes the edge off of not being able to eat or shower or brush my teeth until you drift off to sleep.

We love you, wee man. Happy 3 month day!
Love,
Mama

(photo) Bring on the cold! 

What time is it?

Hello All!

4 days until Adrian is officially 3 months old.
I just want to know: which of you is responsible for resetting his internal clock? Because I am going to find you and poke you with a very sharp stick.
Last night Adrian decided to eat every 3 hours...the night before he went to sleep at nine and woke up at 5:30am to eat. I really must say that I prefer the sleeping for a long time. Yes my boobs get full, and yes it's uncomfortable--but it's nothing compared to the dragon lady I turn into when I'm laying in bed like a soft-serve ice cream machine starving half to death because I've been burning calories making milk all night long. I got up at 5:30 this morning to shove a biscuit in my face and pour a glass of water down my throat only to return to bed and discover wee man wide awake.
WIDE AWAKE I tell you.
And how do I know that he was wide awake? Because he was talking to himself, and to me, and to the ceiling fan. And do you have any idea how cute it is to listen to a 12 week old baby babble and coo at a ceiling fan? It's hard to be upset about being sleep deprived when you're overwhelmed with that much cuteness.
I maintain that being cute is a natural defense mechanism.

And something completely random:
Who's bright idea was it to put pointy things in nursing bras? I nearly impaled myself when the pointy thing worked its way out of the side of my bra. (For the record that's 3 nursing bras that I have destroyed. My breasts are like supervillians in the underwear world.)

Because I am so sneaky....

(photo) clean baby!

I only have a few seconds here, as I have handed the baby off to Aaron and just disappeared without explaining where I was going (to feed my blog addiction!)
I also only have a few seconds because as of last week (week 11 of project raise-the-baby) Adrian has hit another growth spurt. This being (I figure) the much acclaimed 3-month growth spurt. True, he sleeps more. Also true, he eats more.
Not more per sitting, oh no.
More frequently.
As a result, I have been tethered to him for 3 days...no email, no long leisurely showers, no styling of hair or putting on of make up.
(and I hear him now....)
Enjoy the photo of the baby bather, and try to ignore the fact that the bathroom wallpaper is actually contact paper.
It's a rental, people. There's nothing I can do about it.

Thanks for the lovely time....

The other night I went to an all-female social gathering, and I brought along wee Adrian so the ladies could see him. (After all, they did throw us a baby shower a few months back.)
The event was held in someone's home. This individual also has an infant, a few weeks older than our little man. I had a good time talking with people I hadn't seen in a while, and Adrian didn't seem to mind all the extra attention.
However! The following day the host's husband approached my husband to ask if I had absconded with his infants pacifier.
Now seriously,people. Why would I take anything that didn't belong to me? Let alone a pacifier? If I really needed one, they cost like $1.50 at the store.
Maybe I'm just getting my knickers into a twist because I don't particularly care for the host of this soiree...But does anyone else think it's a bit rude to imply that I have stolen something from your house?

They came, they saw....

(photo) Nap time!

They came, they saw, they babysat.
They being my family.
It was good to see them, and it was nice to have the help around the house. Especially because Adrian, after a nine day poop hiatus, decided to poop for Grandpa. And FYI: a kid that only poops once every nine days can FILL a diaper. I think I may have to invest in some of that biohazard tape to affix to the back of his diapers--that way no one can say I didn't warn them.
The visit was pretty easy for two reasons: Adrian is now on a fairly predictable schedule, and I don't feel the need to impress my family--they've seen me at my worst, so a few dust bunnies and me in my pj's isn't likely to move them in the least. I see my in-laws so infrequently that when they come to visit I want to organize a parade and serve tiny sandwiches on silver platters. It's not that they would expect or demand such treatment, it's just residual Catholic training to make a good impression.
Wow, this post ran away from me rather fast.
Back to the point: this weekend, I got to see my parents and my little brother. I enjoyed it, and not just because my mom cooked up awesome breakfasts every morning (thanks for that, by the way), but it was nice to see the interaction between Adrian and some of the people I love.

(photo) Adrian and Uncle Jono 

(photo) Adrian and Grandparents DeCarlo 

Just a thought...

I don't have time for much else, because my lovely family is visiting and I am one of those people who enjoy spending time with family. How does that happen?
I'm not really sure myself....

Anywho, my thought is this:

It's weird seeing someone who's diapers you once changed holding a baby.

Also; my brother is sporting a new hairstyle/facial hair combo that is like a cross between those dudes from Oasis and Jesus. (pictures to come)

So that was two thoughts, but you know what I mean.
thankyou, that is all.

Sleighbells ring...

are you listening?
In this house we are FREEZING.
Apparently the geniuses who build houses in Oklahoma can't conceive that it may get below 32 degrees and therefore some insulation may be in order.
Even though it dips below 32 degrees EVERY WINTER for at least 15 days.
And now I have to go and thaw my fingers.

Bigger than a meth lab, Smaller than a war....

Living in this state is nothing, if not totally bizarre.
I had a friend email me last week to let me know that there had been an explosion in Muskogee at some scrap metal plant. When you read the Associated Press coverage (all 4 sentences) the noise is described as sounding "like a bomb".
When I lived in that part of the state there were no fewer than 3 meth lab explosions--which produce a lot of fire and some fairly significant smoke. And I'll have to say that while a trailer going up in flames does produce quite a lot of noise, it does not rattle the dishes and throw people from furniture in nearby homes.
This is education!

Do it now!

Make a donation to the International Red Cross.
http://www.icrc.org/eng

Consider it part of a New Year's resolution to live a more compassionate life.

(stepping off my soapbox)

Thank you and Happy New Year.

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.