sueeeus

Guess who is ten months old today?

Yep.  My little guy.

Just this week he figured out how to pull himself to a stand.  Then he got so excited about it, because it was, you know, way cool, so he waved his arms in excitement, as he does…   …and went timber, straight back like a falling tree.  My, that was scary, for both of us.  It’s a good thing babies are so resilient and also so close to the ground.   Gravity might otherwise not be so kind.

He is stunningly gorgeous, too.  And I’m not just saying that because I’m his mother.  Well, yes, actually I am.  But look at him!

Today we spent the day together, just the two of us.  Gadget and BB went to show off the boat, the boat that I want very little or nothing to do with, even though I paid for the blessed thing for goodness sake, but Gadget in his manipulative wonder managed to get me to go for it, and I really need to develop a backbone or something when it comes to dealing with marital strife see Gadget’s family up north, and my back was hurting and I was exhausted from a crazy work week, so I stayed home.  I just didn’t want to go.  We went last weekend, and that’s about all I can take for a month or two. So LB and I had a nice day together doing laundry and buying milk.  That little boy is very good at helping fold clothes.

He is also a master at scooting backwards.  He’s as fast as lightning and it makes me laugh, the way he scoots so fast.  It’s sort of like a frog hopping backwards.  I laugh and laugh, and I swear he knows it tickles me so he does it more, to put on a show.  His forward crawl is sort of like a sidestroke.  The ‘commando’ crawl, like GI Joe.  He gets up on his hands and knees to scope the scene, then plops into commando position to make his advance.  He gets to his feet from the kneeling position.  He sort of rolls back on his toes and straightens his legs, like a dancer.  Then he bounces and flails because he thinks it’s so cool to be standing, but of course he forgets and then falls.  Hopefully he’ll figure that out soon.  Dinglefuzz.

The other thing he does with amazing accuracy is turn on the DVD player.  No kidding.   He goes directly for the power button or the open/close button, and he’ll take the DVD out of the tray.  Little stinker!  We have a barricade of pillows in front of the TV stand, but he literally dives onto them, and then starts hurling pillows away with all his might, to get at those electronics.

And how are things on the feeding front?  He has five teeth, and several more on the verge of breaking through.  I still have him on stage two foods because he chokes and gags with the tiniest of fragments in his mouth.  I’m looking forward to him actually attempting to chew, but he’s not ready yet.  He’s not too thrilled with the frozen breast milk, either.  He takes it fine during the night when he’s mostly asleep, but in the day he fights it, so I mix it with rice cereal and feed it to him that way.  And as for weaning, I am nearly there.  I am down to one pump in two days, so the end is in sight.  My mood and emotions are all over the map, though, but that is probably to be expected.  It IS good to be getting my boobs back, I have to say.  There is much less pain, all around.  My belly pain is finally subsiding too.

Still hoping for a full night’s sleep, but it looks as though that is a pipe dream at best.

Still smitten beyond words with this little bundle of wonder, though.  He’s the bestest.

Dolls have never been my thing.  My mother, aunt and grandmother are all gaga over dolls, and have all sorts of collectibles.  My MIL,  Gadget’s daughter and her mother are likewise all gaga over dolls. Their homes are bursting with dolls.

My son, BB, is freaked out over dolls.  I have one doll, and her home is atop a small bookcase in my bedroom.  BB doesn’t want to be in the room alone with her.  And he’s never even seen Chucky.  Lord have mercy on us all if ever he does.

I have this doll because she is a namesake.  When my mother was a child, she had two dolls.  One was named Susan, and the other a lovely musical S-name.   Her first two daughters were named for these dolls, and eventually, she gave the Susan doll to me.

Yesterday we visited Gadget’s family for the day.  His aunt and uncle were visiting from Mississippi or thereabouts, and it was a rare opportunity to see them, as they are advanced in years and their health is declining.  At one point, Gadget’s brother disappeared for a few moments to the back room, and returned with a tiny newborn baby cradled in his arms.  My heart skipped a beat, trying to process the information.  Where in the heck did that baby come from, why was it left alone until now, who was taking care of it, and so on.  A million questions spun through my mind.  And then, I realized it was a doll.

Which freaked me out a bit more, because it looked so real.  It looked like a dead baby.  Seriously.

As the story unfolds, an acquaintance of the aunt makes these dolls for a living, and they go for around $800.  They are commissioned, usually, and made to look like people’s existing (or dearly departed) babies.  I missed the tale of why she gave one to the aunt, but I did hear the tale of how the doll-maker left one of these dolls in the back seat of her car while running errands one day.  The doll was in a bassinett, dressed in baby clothes, and the car windows were rolled up on a hot summer day.  People noticed and started tapping the glass to wake the baby.  The lady didn’t return, the baby didn’t respond, more people showed up, and finally the police were called, and they broke the car window to retrieve the baby.  At which time they discovered it was a doll.  Thank God.  When the maker finally returned, the police apologized for breaking her window, but said, “for GOD’s sake, cover that thing up if you’re going to leave it anywhere.”

Anyhow, dolls creep me out.  They always have.  I don’t know why.  And this doll, especially, was enough to stir me.  The details are incredible, down to the wrinkles in the hands and feet.  But it’s just too much.  I can picture one of these dolls sending some poor barren woman with unhealthy baby obsessions over the deep edge.  And that woman could have been me (prior to my miracle boys).

Hello there, Mister Squishy Pants.  Or is it Mister Stinky Pants?  It’s safe to say that if you are Mister Squishy Pants, then you are most definitely Mister Stinky Pants.  And vice versa.  Not that anybody’s complaining.  We like to know that all systems are go, yes we do.  So we don’t mind.  We don’t mind one bit.  And we try hard not to take these things for granted any more.  Now that we know about that pesky little vertebrae that we hope is well on its way to behaving and filling in properly.

You are growing and learning by leaps and bounds now!  In the last few weeks you’ve sprouted more teeth.  I see three, and several more just lurking beneath the surface.  And you’re such a giggle box!  Some babies are miserable when teething, but not you!  You giggle and shriek and squirm and kick.  You are so full of life, my beautiful boy.

You especially love it when I hold you under your armpits and swing you like a pendulum.  Tick Tock!  You giggle and kick the air and squirm and shriek and your smile goes from forever to forever.  You are contagious, and you make me feel so good.

You are an expert at rolling over and spinning circles, and you’ve just figured out how to move forward, instead of only backwards.  Oh boy.  You go straight for the baskets of DVDs.  Because you know you’re not supposed to.  And you press the red button on the toy dinosaur to make him roar.  How can you be so smart?!  You’re a genius!

You love your turquoise blue blankie, too.  You know which one it is, and you grab it and pull it over your head when you want to go to sleep.  I always pull it back, because I don’t like you to cover your face.  But I have to check on you often, because you are a stubborn little guy, and pull it right back over your face.

Finally, you wake only once in the night for another bottle, and finally you take more than four ounces!  So it’s only 5 or 6, but it keeps you satisfied for longer, and that means I get to sleep a teensy bit more, and for that, I am so very happy!  No shaking your bottle and splashing your milk all over your head, though.  You’re not allowed to play with your milk.  Nope, not allowed.

I’m glad you like your binky.  I know it may not be the best thing, but I prefer to keep that in your mouth while you’re exploring, because I’d rather you NOT put other things in your mouth that you find during your adventures.  Your brother has a tendency to leave a trail, similar to the wake of a tornado, so for everyone’s safety, the binky is best.  What?  You think I want to spend every waking moment following your brother with a broom or a vacuum?  I thought I would have been able to teach him to clean up after himself by now, but he’s very head strong.  Like his dad.  And so are you.  I can only imagine what’s in store.

Soon you will learn to sit yourself from a stand or a crawl.  You are already trying.  You might not be happy when that happens, because I will keep putting you back on your tummy.  That’s what I’m going to do.   Just so you know.  We’re going to give that pesky little vertebrae every chance we can to fill out the way it should.  You might thank me when you’re 40.  Maybe.

You have the look of a deep thinker, too.  You are so different from your brother, the boisterous bull in a china shop boy.  You are boisterous, but in a different way.  There’s something about you, my LB.   Something about you.  And I, I am smitten, over and over again.  First with your brother — I didn’t think I could be any more smitten, and then you came along and I’m smitten all that much more.

Nine months!  Happy Nine Months, my beautiful boy!

I have the weaning blues.

LB isn’t calling the shots here. It’s all on me, since I pump exclusively. Something about dropping supply just gets to me. Maybe it’s because of how hard I work to maintain supply, it seems so contrary to intentionally reduce it. Part of me wants to be done, and to have that part of my life back, but part of me doesn’t want to let go. It’s all wrapped up in ‘this is my last baby, this is the last time I will ever get to do this’. I suppose that’s the source of the blues — I won’t be down this path again and it’s so hard and sad to close this door. I’m currently at 3x/day now, and working on dropping to 2x.  I have only managed to stretch to 9.5 hours, but yesterday hit a new low of 21 ounces, down from over 40, and with that, the blues hit me hard.

In a way, I’m sort of addicted to pumping now and keep calculating in my head how I can keep things going if I just stick to 2x, once I get there, or even 1x. But then, if the supply is so low by then, part of me says why even bother trying to keep at it and why not just get my freedom back.

I EP’ed for a full year with BB, and never had these blues.   Maybe because I was hoping to have more kids, and/or maybe because I never did make enough to give him 100%. I pumped 75% and supplemented with formula 25%, and when I decided to wean at the one year mark, it was easy as cake to dry up and be done. No emotional issues whatsoever (other than the obsession of milk production consuming my life for an entire year; I suppose if I went through my archives, they may tell a different story). This time is so different for me. I’m 44 now, have two beautiful boys, and the baby window is closed. If I’d been able to have kids earlier in life, I might have tried for 3 or 4, but as it turns out, it was a miracle for me to get what I got. I am eternally grateful and blessed for the opportunity to be a mother.

Anyhow, it’s probably normal to get the weaning blues. Hormones are undoubtedly shifting, and there’s the whole letting go thing.

I have a smokin’ hot new hairdo, though, and that makes me feel happy.  It’s the short choppy number again.  I really like short, these last several years.

The Mac photo booth is a lot of fun, too.

I prefer PC to Mac, for the most part.  If I were only going to play with Photo Booth, surf the web, and sync my iTouch, then I’d use the Mac — it handles those things nicely.  But I like my PC better for photo editing and general file keeping.  So I hop back and forth between both worlds, which for me is kind of annoying.  I’m the girl who likes to stay put, after all.

blahblahblah

And if I quit pumping, I won’t be playing with Photo Booth at midnight any more.  Or Facebook, for that matter.  Or Scrabble.  Or WordTwist.  Or Scramble.  Or Pathwords.  (I’m easily addicted to word games.)  The plus side is that I may actually be getting some more SLEEP!  I might even get my libido back.

Did I say that out loud?

I sure hope LB likes the milk I have stored in the freezer.

Children’s Hospital is a fantastic place.  It’s really quite incredible.  It’s like an art gallery with sculptures, murals, paintings, and mosaics.  It’s light and bright and cheerful and friendly.

sculpture garden entrance

They are very serious about security.  Everyone must wear a photo ID that is issued at the door.  There are several layers of reception and check-in/admitting.  While waiting for the actual appointment, one is given a pager.

The lighting is stunning.  Art glass everywhere.

aquatic art glass ceiling fixtures

art glass wall sconce

The floors are terrazzo with aquatic themed inlays.  There are fish and turtles and all manner of sea creatures everywhere you look.

walking with the turtles

Giant wall murals morph into etched glass walls.  Simply stunning.

All this beauty to behold.  But it still doesn’t detract from the real beauty within those walls.  Children of all kinds.  Children with reasons to be there.  It’s almost too hard to think about, these children, and why they are here.

Why we are here.

probably the best baby in the universe

He has a congenital spinal defect.

notched vertebrae

The vertebrae in the middle of the picture has a notch in it.  It’s underdeveloped.  If it doesn’t get a chance to fill out properly, the spinal cord could be damaged.  If it doesn’t grow properly, there may need to be surgery.  But it could resolve on its own.  That is my deepest hope.  He’s too small for a back brace to keep him rigid.  We’re told to discourage sitting.  He can be on his knees or his tummy or he can stand, but he has to avoid sitting.  He can only sit reclined, to keep the spine elongated.

less of this

We go back in three months for more x-rays.  The good news is the ultrasound showed his kidneys and bladder are all normal.  We will hope that the notch becomes less pronounced with time.  I want to avoid the MRI if at all possible.  The thought of general anesthesia for my infant makes me very sad.  So if his progress is good, we may be able to forego the MRI.  And surgery.

giant whale swimming through space

And we will spend very little time with the giant whales and sea creatures.

sea creatures everywhere

It’s a beautiful place to visit.  It’s a more beautiful place to leave.