Fledging

Now that we've passed the one year mark, I guess I am only updating the blog when there's something noteworthy, like a new first or an achievement unlocked. Does that seem fair? Maybe I'll just update each week with photos? Or maybe I'll pick it up again after the holidays. I'm in the process of putting last year's better posts into his scrap book so he'll have something a little more analog to have when he's older, but even this is really so much better than doing a store-bought baby book. Scott and I actually have the exact same Hallmark baby books from our respective infancies - his blue, mine pink.

His one-year check-up was the Tuesday after his birthday (the day after the last post), and though he's still not walking, he does have the dubious honor of continuing to be above the 100% centile for height (at 32.5" tall). His weight was 26 lbs, landing him at the 88th centile, and his head has grown to the 93% centile. That is such a weird measurement to take, I think, but there it is.

He's cut his fourth tooth, his top incisor now has its mate. It's just poking through, and he keeps his finger jammed in his mouth pretty much all day. Between that and the perpetually runny nose he's been sporting, he's been kind of a pain in the ass. I mean, he's still a sweet, funny kid, he just has a bit shorter fuse. Coupled with his attempts at new physical feats (like climbing onto and falling off of his little box-table 6" off the ground), there've been a few more tears than we're used to around here. He's definitely stretching his little wings a bit more these days, experimenting with autonomy.

He missed a few naps over the weekend, because I was gone to a holiday bazaar (where I was selling my poorly-made homemade soft toys) and though I was able to get him down for his morning nap before I left for the day, he didn't really go down for any kind of afternoon nap and this resulted in a little more night waking than I can really tolerate. I'm thinking of night weaning him over the holiday, since Scott will be home for a few days to help with the night parenting without it cutting into his workday performance. It feels really drastic to even think about cutting him off, but I'm just feeling really beat down by motherhood these days. I'm carrying a lot of back pain and my upper body joints pretty much all ache. I need to sleep more than four hours uninterrupted (he still sleeps from roughly 7:00pm to 7:00am, but wakes once or twice, and I nurse him back to sleep to expedite things). I put the Totoro pillow that I made him in his crib to try to help soothe him, and I'm hoping that helps. I just found out that he even likes that thing - Scott sent me a picture last week of Boosh laying down on top of it, sucking his thumb. In the middle of the day. He just grabs it and holds his face against it and knows it's for snuggling. That's its purpose.

Being a goofball in his robot pajamas ("robut jams") and his Halloween hat

He's starting to pick up more and more language, and that means I need to start watching my mouth around him. He actually does a perfect mimic of my exasperated groan, the one I let out whenever I'm driving. (Seriously, people cannot drive in this town. It's just rain! It does that here.) When we ask, "Zephyr! Are you hungry?" he says, "Ffff! Fffff!" (for the sound of us blowing his food to cool it down), and now we can play the Where's Mama's (insert facial feature here) game and he will point to the appropriate feature most of the time. We are careful not to ever ask about eyes, because then he will laugh and think it's funny to poke my eyes out. He already thinks it's hilarious to flip over in the middle of every diaper change unless I turn the TV on to distract him, but this requires me to only change him on the couch. I'm hoping this is a phase he outgrows soon.

His favorite toys are still pretty much just household items: wooden spoons, finger bowls, recyclables like berry pint boxes, shipping boxes (we gave him a giant box that still has the paper packing material in it and decorated one of the flaps to look like a computer keyboard, and he thinks it's pretty awesome in there), empty plastic bottles, that sort of thing. He's really into stacking rings these days, and is gaining more dexterity to actually fit the rings onto their stem. He will open books and "read" them to us, mumbling little words quietly to himself in a language we don't understand.

We bought a mini tree, against my better wishes. The potted trees were all around $50, but it was only $15 for a little tabletop fir. Besides, it supports our local economy. This will be his second Christmas, and I know it'll probably be the last one where we decide what he wants. I really can't wait to see the boy he'll become, but I'm trying my best to relish these last moments of his babydom.

The Cheese

We survived Zephyr's first birthday party the Saturday after Thanksgiving. We had cupcakes and bubbly to ring in the occasion, to celebrate passing our first year as parents and for keeping him alive. There were about a million kids in our house, running laps like wild dingos, and yet I completely kept calm and nothing got broken. It was amazing (the me-keeping-calm part).



He has more tomato sauce on his face than cupcake, I almost feel sad about this. I should've wiped his face off before giving him his cupcake so I could get good photos. Oh, well.

Oh, man, new stuff:

He's repeating animal noises, like the high-pitched "whee-e-e!" of a horse (I try to make realistic animal sounds for him, and my "neigh" is right proper), the low "mooooo" of a cow (his is a guttural groan) and random sounds I've assigned to the insects on his favorite puzzle. Bees and flies are no-brainers, but I've decided the wings of a moth go "thfthfthfthf" and spiders go "bulubulu" when they crawl. He's also stringing together more syllables on his own, in response to us and to tell us his thoughts on various matters. We'll try to remember to nod and shake our heads more so he can communicate the basic "yes" and "no," and eventually "no" will become his favorite word.

And big one this week: he stands alone! He just sort of did it one day last week, then again for a few seconds longer, and now we'll just look up and notice that he's fully standing unassisted, playing with a puzzle piece or somesuch. The funny thing is, he doesn't seem to realize it's a big deal and doesn't look at us for a big "ta-da" or anything. He's just like "finally, I can use both hands for playtime. It's about time."

Independence is his main goal, now, as evidenced by his inability to hold still for a diaper change (we've taken to just changing him on the couch and turning on the TV) and his newfound tendency to throw his spoon and bowl onto the floor when we try to help him eat. We try not to get too mad about it, and instead just say, "that's not cool, Zephyr."

But we really just need to let him do his thing, let him know that we trust his abilities (new and shaky though they may be), and let him fuck up once in awhile. It's the best way for anyone to learn, and I know I'm not doing him any favors when I fix everything for him. It'll take some doing for me to learn how to step off and get out of his way, but I think every mother struggles with this. I know I will, probably forever.

Hey Shorty

Our baby boy is one year old today. I have fleeting memories of those first everlasting days together. The two hour cycles that led from that first day to the middle of spring in one long, dreamy stretch of bleary time are a thing of the past. Then, I could hardly put him down, and now I can barely pick him up.

He is scarcely the tiny breeze he was when we first met; he is now a dynamic, powerful, gale-force wind - a wee hurricane. He has changed so much I can hardly keep up, and he continues to evolve and grow faster than a williwaw. Yet he still lives up to his name:

Zephyr

The name Zephyr has evolved from the ancient Greek word "Zephyros", meaning light and beneficial. The Zephyr is a gentle breeze from the west during the summer solstice, and is comfortable for the people it blows upon.

For his birthday, we let him eat all the blueberries he wanted. I even put freshly-whipped cream on some of them (this confused him, and I think he prefers them unadulterated). He had two (tiny baby-sized) helpings of pumpkin pie. And for dinner I made him special turkey broth-soaked tofu cubes, which he happily crammed into his mouth one by one. He really loves tofu.

Zephyr is going through a clingy phase right now, preferring playtime from the comfort and safety of a lap, or opting for cuddles and tickles rather than balls and cars. He is giving many more hugs and wet, open-mouthed kisses, and I just can't get enough. I expect it's a developmental milestone about to strike, so I'm relishing every delicious, snuggly moment before he's too busy running down the cats and climbing stairs to hug his mama.

He sings with us during his lullabies, lilting, making the sweetest babymusic. He dances to all kinds of music and with equal aplomb: Cat Stevens, Kanye West, Department of Eagles, Andrés Segovia, and the lyrical stylings of his two parents - an earnest presentation of Twinkle, Twinkle Little Star (sung desperately to stave off a launch off the changing table while struggling him into his nightly jimjams) will usually invite him into a little on-the-back dancing. Usually his dance is a back-and-forth head bob, but he will sometimes employ the full knee-bounce if the groove is just right.


Our little boy is a thing to behold. I can't wait to see what the next year has in store for us.

Toofsome

We finally have a third tooth. Just in time for his first birthday next week! You can see it there poking out. I keep hoping he'll end up with a diastema. Since Scott and I were both gap-tooth kids, signs point to 'yes'. Mine was "fixed" when I had a crown put on my front tooth (I broke it in half on my 18th birthday), and I wish they'd left it alone. Oh well, chances are Zephyr'll have one, and will hate it, and I'll always tell him how awesome and adorable it makes him, but he'll never believe me.


Here he is practicing his waving. He does this a lot, waves to himself by opening and closing fingers like the sign for "nurse." He will actually chase the cats through the house on all fours and stop to wave at them (he combines the wave with the "c'mere kitty" sign when he does this).

I have no idea, either. Best just leave this one a mystery.

His new camera face, though, appears to be bracing for the flash. I hate using the flash, but it's so dark all the time now, what with the rain and all those moody doldrums in the air. Nowadays we spend a little more time snuggled under a blanket watching cartoons and a little less time strolling around. I do get stir-crazy, though, and I'm sure he does too. Our house just doesn't feel big enough for all his explorations and I will probably start making the pool a more regular occurrence. I want to take him to one of those baby gyms but I don't want to expose him to all the ick that covers toddlers. But I know his little immune system needs a workout, too, so maybe I'll concede. Or maybe I'll just invest in some good rain gear for him.

Other news this week:

• Stacking is sticking around. He will stack things up in his hands, Scott's hand, and mine. However, if I am the one who stacks, he instantly destroys the stack. This has prompted the invention of a new game: How Fast Can You Stack Before Baby Smash
  
• He can use the sign for "more" (though it ends up being more of a touching his palm with his index finger), and he uses it a lot for food. If he thinks I'm holding out with fruit, he will ask for more until he's eaten about twice the capacity of his stomach.
  
• He freely gives objects to me if I present my open palm.
• He can drink with a straw (though he still prefers to empty a cup all over his dinner tray and himself).
• He can climb up and back down stairs. One more hallway needs blocking.
  
• Today he opened the under-sink cupboard. I went to put the locks on it, but turns out, we bought 5 of the latches for the fridge and none for cabinets. There is presently a rubber band around the cupboard handles, and this seems like it'll do the trick just fine.
  
• He can now stack those stacking rings back onto their peg instead of just picking them off and throwing them to watch how far they'll roll.
  
• He will put his toys BACK in their basket when I ask him to! Sure, he often picks up the basket and dumps them back out, but then he puts them back in!

This is all pretty much in one week! I can't believe how fast things change; once he's picked up some momentum, this boy is unstoppable.

Detachment Parenting

I'm just not cut out for attachment parenting. Sure, I wear Zephyr strapped closely to my body, but that's only because it's so much faster than opening the stroller every time I need to do some grocery shopping, and time management is important.

I still nurse four times a day (and will probably follow World Health Organization advice and continue to do so for another year or so), but it's only because I can't be bothered to walk around rocking him when I can just stick a tit in his mouth and put him right to sleep. Zephyr slept in bed with us until he was five months old or so, but that was just because I was too lazy to get up to feed him in the middle of the night.

We use cloth diapers, but I guess I should come clean and admit that it's really because I like saving all that money by not using disposables. I even make my own organic baby food and everything, but that's because I have control issues and want to spare myself future food struggles. Completely self-serving, I assure you.

Try as I might, I just can't accept the whole-package attachment parenting dogma. You know why?

• There is no magical "village" that lets modern mothers have their proverbial (gluten-free) cake and eat it too. So get over the idea that it takes one to raise a child. Okay, there's that one village in Opuwo, Namibia where Babies was filmed. Why don't you move there and tell me how you like it. I'm sure not being vaccinated will work out really great.
  

• There is no scientific evidence supporting the claim that ADD, ADHD, learning disabilities, autism, dyslexia, dyspraxia, asthma, bed wetting, thrush, finicky eating, chronic ear infections, multiple sclerosis, fibromyalgia, chronic fatigue syndrome, rheumatoid arthritis, lupus, type-1 diabetes, chronic cystitis, colic or eczema are caused by an imbalance of gut flora, nor that they can be treated or cured by putting someone (young children, in particular) on a restrictive diet. On the contrary, the author of Gut and Psychology Syndrome (and accompanying GAPS diet), Dr. Natasha Campbell-McBride* has been published in a peer-reviewed medical or scientific journal exactly ZERO times.
  
  

• Discipline is not the same as punishment. Boundaries and structure make children feel safe, not "dishonored." There's a very thick line between the kind of discipline I got as a kid (hint: my dad thought Dr. Spock was a "fucking bleeding-heart pinko") and saying "no" to discourage unwanted behavior. Let's just grow a pair as parents and be the authority figures we spent our teen years raging against.

• Letting a three year-old (or a two year-old, or a one year-old) cry and scream out a tantrum will not cause permanent neurological damage. There is a difference between letting a baby blow off some steam and abject, Ukrainian orphanage-level neglect. A really, really big difference.
  

• There is no scientific evidence that supports the claim that bedazzling a baby in amber, no matter how old, unpolished, or Baltic, will prevent or treat teething pain.
  

• Conventional, rigorous education will not destroy a child's creativity or "spirit." Your hang-ups about conventional, rigorous education might destroy a child's creativity or "spirit." Parenting from the emotional baggage from your own childhood probably will.

I know, I know. Zephyr is definitely going to grow up completely brain-damaged. Sociopathic, probably. He'll require tons of antidepressants and therapy. Because clearly, his mother doesn't love him enough.

*Campbell-McBride wrote (and self-published) Gut and Psychology Syndrome based on anecdotal evidence using her own child as a subject, and runs a clinic in the city of Cambridge (though she claims she's "at Cambridge," falsely implying she's affiliated with the University of Cambridge). Dr. Campbell-McBride is a graduate of the obscure Bashkir Medical University in Russia. Her website is run by NuTriVene, a company that sells the nutritional supplements that her dietary program prescribes.

Kururimpa

Zephyr had his first Halloween. I'd been dreaming for years of dressing a baby as a character from a video game, and Zeph's plump and curvy body type matched perfectly to Tingle, the 35 year-old cartographer and map seller (from the post-Majora's Mask Zelda games) who is obsessed with forest fairies (hence, his green costume). His catch phrase is "tingle tingle kooloo-limpah!" (or kururimpa in Japanese).

Quite the match, don't you think?

I'd like to assure you that the costume didn't look nearly this bad in person - the stupid flash made the colors look all wonky. I only sewed two strips of fabric to the bottom so his hat would be more like a hood and stay on, but it ended up looking like a strange, green beard in the photos. Nevertheless, this was an awesome first Halloween costume, and regardless of what his Auntie Tanya says, he will not need years of therapy when he grows up because of it.

New favorites and firsts this/last week:

He had his first swim outside my body on Monday, with our new mom friend Rachel and baby friend Fred. Thank goodness for the Mt. Scott Community Center family swim! It falls perfectly between morning and afternoon nap times, and if we get the hang of getting changed before and after swimming then we even have time for lunch without pushing the afternoon nap too late. It was so cute seeing his little legs kicking gently in the water, and we danced and danced around that pool, splashing woo at each other.

I've been sewing soft toys for him out of recycled felted sweaters. So far I've made him a little blue fleece Totoro plushy (with lavender in the stuffing to help him get sleepy), an owl with orange leaf wings, and a fuchsia frog that looks more like a one-armed monster with an extra chromosome. The frog is the overwhelming favorite among the folks we know. I made an etsy page to sell more of these whimsically ugly plushies, because I'm having so much fun sewing them, I thought I might try to make a few bucks off it. Now I just need to add some items to it.

His new favorite thing to watch is Mio Mao cartoons. He will actually belly-laugh when the cats get into their claymation foibles. It's hilarious. He's also becoming much more adept at putting things into his stacking cups and drinking from sippy cup without help. He can drink from regular cup without help, too, but has a hard time putting it back down without spilling water all over the damn place (which he does on purpose sometimes).



All of our photos this week seem to be of Zephyr in costume or eating. If this glorious weather keeps up, I'll be getting some obligatory baby-in-festive-sweater-sitting-in-pile-of-leaves photos. Maybe this afternoon.

It's not a bloodbath, it's baby's first beets.

Oh, speaking of eating, we have another new first this week: today, Zephyr ate his first booger.

Smile and Wave

Braaaains.

It was a hard week, last week. Zephyr started waking up from his morning nap after only 20 or 30 minutes. It went on for almost two weeks, and I was beginning to resign myself to the fact that he might be weaning himself down to one nap a day. It was too early for that! Most babies don't cut back to one nap until they're a year or so old. Zephyr hasn't hit any other milestones early, so why should this be any different?

When it started to cut into the rest of his day (fussiness mid-day, messed-up afternoon nap, fussy dinnertime, waking at night), I decided to try something different: I ignored Weissbluth's advice (gasp!). Instead of putting him down earlier - what, like I'm gonna put him down for his first nap at 8:00am? - I ignored the yawns and the slow-blinks for a half hour and put him down when he was really sleepy. Instead of nodding off on the breast, he got a little second wind and chatted in his crib for 5 minutes before drifting off. This worried me.

But then he slept for three hours.


Surely this was a fluke? Nope, he did it again in the afternoon, woke only once to nurse very early in the morning, and has been napping great all week after that. I had my baby back. Granted, Weissbluth also probably thinks that two 3-hour naps is too much daytime sleep for a kid Zephyr's age, but I've decided that he wouldn't sleep that long if he didn't need it. He plays hard, and he sleeps hard.

Cuteness of the week: after I set him in his crib and give him smooches on his head to wish him a nice nap, he stands up and makes the smoochy smacking sounds back at me. I'm so glad this has entered his vernacular! He still "kisses" by coming at my face with a wide-open mouth, but he'll put two and two together soon enough.

He has also learned how to wave "hello." Or rather, he points to the person he's greeting, and does the waving part by just opening and closing his fingers. It's so funny. When Scott gets home Boosh looks at him, looks at me, shrieks with laughter, then points/waves like "Whoa, there's Dada! Are you seeing this? Man, I love that guy!"

Okay, now, for real this time: his top left tooth is about to pop out. I can see the little white nub at the gumline. Would anyone like to place a wager on what day it will emerge? Can I get an over-under on this? I'm going to guess...December 1. No, but seriously, I wouldn't be surprised if he finally cuts it this weekend.

And godspeed to that tooth, because I'm starting to run out of ideas for what to feed him. He eats a lot of the same stuff all the time (beans, brown rice, oatmeal, cauliflower, carrots, squash, tofu, salmon, blueberries, greens). It's all good, healthy food, but I'm getting lazy now and occasionally feed him crap like macaroni and cheese from a box (I get the organic kind and add some vegetables, but still). I am such a hypocrite! But then I remember, oh yeah - I love boxed mac and chee, and 7-11 nachos, and chili dogs and all kinds of garbage food. As long as it's a rare treat and not his main fare, I guess I can let go of my healthy baby food dogma.



He gets into everything these days, and man, is he a fast crawler. We have finally given in and put up the nice things that I care about so he doesn't break them, and our living room is (more or less) a baby-proof playground.

Shudder.

Happy Dance

Zephyr said a perfect "yeah" today, and in context and everything. But it was followed by his string of percussive mono-and disyllabic babymumbles, "op. ep. uh-da," so I don't know that it was intentional. He pauses for effect between each word, looking at me, then at the blue cup in his hands.

Today he also danced for the first time, and bless his heart, it was because he was so rapt with joy at the taste of the oatmeal with cinnamon and pears I cooked for him. He had been eating his usual "Mommy doesn't know what to give you, Bubbie" dinner of reheated salmon, sweet potatoes and greens (frozen cubes for the win), and as usual, about midway through dinner he just starts cramming handfuls of food into his eye sockets and nostrils as he rubbed his sleepy eyes and runny nose (I should probably start giving him dinner earlier, but it was only 5:15). Then he started wailing pitifully, reaching out for me. I suffered the flakes of salmon down my shirt and smears of starchy, orange goo in my hair to comfort my sweet baby, and he instantly cheered right up and began chatting at us.

"That's an order!" - Booshie McBossman

He hadn't eaten much of his dinner, and I knew he'd be hungry again soon, so I squatted down to his level and fed him bites of dinner with my fingers. He ate it all up, so I gave him some of the oatmeal that I cooked for his breakfast tomorrow, and he loved it! I passed the pot with the wooden spoon sticking out of it to Scott and Zephyr yanked the spoon out of his hand and just started chomping down, doing that little bouncy happy dance that babies do, holding onto the chair for support. He ate a lot of oatmeal like that, dancing and singing happy syllables to himself and to us.

Last Sunday we got some cheeseburgers from Burgerville. Okay, we got ten of them. They were those tiny kind that they put in kids' meals, and they were having a deal (10 for $10) and I can never resist! Plus they're really tasty and local and guilt-free and all that, so don't look at me like that. I took one of the buns off one and cut it into little bites so Zephyr could have cheeseburgers like Mommy and Daddy (but without all the extra white bread and ketchup), and he was shoveling bites into his mouth happily, until he stopped, let out a little cry, and then started pulling the food out of his mouth with his fingers. He had tears streaming down his cheeks, but then he'd put another bite into his mouth. Then he'd whine and wimper again and pull it out, crying. We couldn't figure out what the hell was going on! Then I realized I'd cut his burger on the same cutting board where I'd cut up a hot red chili just minutes earlier. I tasted one of his bites to check. Spicy. Tongue-biting spicy. Poor baby! Luckily we still had like 5 or 6 cheeseburgers in the bag so I just cut up another one for him and we were all smiles all over again.

You see this face he's making? he does this a lot lately. It reminds me of the face our cat Wumpy makes when he smells something good and stinky. I can't tell if he's being funny or stretching out his gums or what. He does it every night at bedtime, too, it's the strangest thing. When I finish singing my lullabies to him and we turn on the iPod with the Radiohead lullaby music, he makes this exact face at the light of the iPod. Maybe he's practicing his best ballad-singing face for when he becomes a rock star. For now, though, it's just fun to watch him trying new things, faces included. He changes so much every day.

Mr. Snuffleupagus

You hafta admit, the resemblance is uncanny.

I tried in vain to get Zephyr to hold still and smile for my camera yesterday, but ended up with just a few shots of him glaring at the camera, nonplussed. In these photos he also looks remarkably like the men of my family. I can see my dad in this contemplative face, and my grandfather Edward. Very stern and serious men, they were, even in boyhood.

My father Donald, at age 12

Zephyr had just woken from a long nap in these photos yesterday, and was on the precipice of the cold he woke up with this morning. He's a sniffly Snuffy.


Zephyr still only has two teeth. I know of only one other baby close to his age that has this few teeth! There are so many foods that I want to give him, but he just can't gum through everything. He really prefers to feed himself, and I'm getting tired of giving him chunks of cooked carrot or squash all the time just because I'm afraid he'll choke.

Today we were reading My Mother is Mine, and I got to the page, "my mother feeds me." I suddenly realized I hadn't given him lunch yet! Out of desperation, I gave him a handful of cooked carrots, a Wasa Crispbread and a thin slice of olive loaf from Edelweiss (another vestige of my childhood - my grandma Laverne used to feed it to me on Wonder bread, or sometimes Braunschweiger, or sometimes pimento loaf). He gummed the cracker a bit, and pawed at the carrots, but he greedily ate up the olive loaf like a good little German boy. The sodium isn't great for him, but the iron is.

Zephyr looks amazing in autumn colors, doesn't he? I think so. If you really want to have your breath taken, click the photo and look at his eyes, which upon my hope of hopes are staying olive-gray with bronze-brown nebulae centers.

Every day I am a little more embarrassed about how cliché I am, with all the Motherly Love, and every day it gets a little deeper. I hear this is only the beginning. I'm totally okay with that.

Indian Summer

After a brief flirtation with fall-like weather, we are back to warmer days. And after a two-month stint with sleep regression, we are back to good old-fashioned, 12 straight hours, through-the-night sleeping. It started on Monday night with 13 straight hours. Scott actually went an woke him up at 7:30 so we could keep on schedule for his morning nap. I woke with my breasts as hard and swollen as when they first made milk, dripping everywhere until I could nurse for relief.

Surely this was a fluke? Then, naptime at 9:00, he finished nursing and looked at me, murmured a few babymumbles, and he rolled over with his thumb and blankie the moment he hit the crib. He napped for 3 hours that morning, then again in the afternoon. And though his naps are not always that long, he has regained his record of sleeping all night long without needing a snack. From 8 months until 10 months, almost to the day, I was afraid that this wasn't just a phase, but then it was. Everything is.

He can say "mom," and "yum." He makes music with a rattle I made of a yogurt tub filled with dry beans. He shrieks with delight when we play peek-a-boo. He has discovered his penis. He eats dirt if we let him.

He is a perfect little boy.

He Has Hives

Plus he's (still, oh god! still) teething. Poor baby. He's had a fever, constant sleepiness (with lousy napping), night waking, itching-to-bleeding. We just give him lots of hugs right now, but it never seems like enough.

Duck Duck Goose

We took Zephyr for a little stroll at the rhododendron gardens last weekend. It was a brisk-yet-beautiful late summer day, just cool enough in the late morning to warrant a light jacket. The garden has free admission until March, but some of the rhodies are still blooming (and the anemones are gorgeous this time of year). The ducks still mesmerize the boy - maybe he'll take after his mother and ride his childhood bike down here to study and sketch, to fantasize about being the next best ornithologist since John Audubon.


It didn't take long at all before Zephyr was starting to wind down. In fact, he was nearly immediately ready for his afternoon nap.

Not a lot new this week. He's still cruising around in an upright fashion, and I've had to start putting things away. First, the collection of seashell souvenirs from our honeymoon. Next will likely be the large cow skull on the coffee table. My favorite aspect of his still-unfolding personality is his new growling, but his joyful squeals are still pretty good.

Prince Charmling

These top two photos were taken one day apart, but he looks so much older to me in the second one. Blows my mind. They really do grow up so fast!

I don't even know where to begin. I guess first, with an apology for not updating last week. There was so much happening (and yet, not), and I guess I got a little behind. The main update from last week is that the results of his 9 month checkup were that he is awesome and amazing, and though he is leaning out (coming in at the 85% centile for weight), he is still growing longer and taller (97% centile for height).

He's eating three solid meals a day now and smacks his lips and says "mmm", which is very reassuring to me. He is obsessed with Scott, and says "dada" (but not necessarily intentionally). The closest he's come to calling for me is saying "muh." Coupled with a newfound penchant for growling like an actual little monster, we have quite the little charmling on our hands.

But all of that is really neither here nor there. This, THIS is the real trouble we're in:


Oh dear god, help us all.

Cruisin'

This is a boy on the go. Each new mobility achievement is unlocked nearly before my very eyes. This week: everything but walking. On Monday, on the forgiving grippiness of the library's flat weave carpet, he just started cross-crawling (the classic belly-off-the-floor, alternating hand-knee crawl as seen in the top photo).

This means that getting him to hold still for photos is pert near impossible anymore.

He also pulls himself to a kneeling position, warranting his crib's transition from new baby height to big boy bed height. We caught this just in the nick of time - he was probably moments away from launching himself out of the crib. He stands when placed near furniture for balance, and then proceeds in trying to climb said furniture.

He's still only got the two teeth, but this week's epic droolfest suggests that maybe, just maybe, teeth #3 and #4 will be making their debut soon. He still eats mostly mushed up stuff like these pureed carrots with cooked acorn squash from the garden, but I've been giving him more chunky stuff like flaked salmon, boneless anchovy fillets, berries and diced fresh peaches. His pincer grasp is accurate enough that he feeds himself for 75% of his meal. For messier stuff (like last night's elk chili), we still help him out by passing him a loaded spoon. And he eats. And eats. Like his mother, this kid eats like he has a tapeworm. (Disclaimer: he does not have a tapeworm.)

Now, our main feeding challenge is keeping enough food around. He's years away from being a teenager, and is already threatening to eat us out of house and home.