"The Beautiful is everywhere; perhaps more in the arrangement of your saucepans on the white walls of your kitchen than in your eighteenth-century living room or in the official museums."-Fernand Le'ger, Real Simple Magazine, Oct. 2006
USF lost. I didn't get carded for beer at a college game, where they card everyone. I wore a USF Tattoo on my face trying to reclaim some of my youth as an "Alumni", but really we were the old people sitting in a sea of shirtless students wearing hula skirts and bull horn hats with their faces and bodies painted green and gold. I remember a time when I wasn't in my 30's. We old people can still have fun, though.
We're on our second monitor, and up until this week, I thought it was the best one out there. And very inexpensive, compared to the first one we had, which had more electronics and wires in its packaging than it did in the actual monitor. A couple of days ago, we woke up as the sun was rising and boy did we feel well rested. And as we did our stretching that you do when you've gotten a full, lovely, hard night's sleep, we thought, "Wow! Aidan was so quiet last night!" And just as the horror strikes you that your alarm never went off and you're late for work and there was a meeting scheduled that morning that you're expected to give a presentation at but you don't have time to shower, we looked at the monitor and realized it lost power sometime during the night, and that's why it was so quiet. Evan leapt out of bed and ran into the baby's room, and sure enough, he was sleeping soundly on his side, but all I kept thinking was how long he must have cried during the night before he realized his bad mom wasn't coming in to get him! I'll never know the answer to this, but for a couple of days, we kept BOTH receivers on in the bedroom until the faulty one quietly sputtered out and wouldn't turn on at all. But last night as we were falling asleep after our umpteenth episode of Deal or No Deal in the last week and a half, the other one stopped working too. So I picked up my pillow, grabbed my old leopard-spotted comforter that I've had since high school and schlepped across the house to sleep on the floor of the baby's room. About four hours in, Evan and I switched. Of course, Aidan slept soundly through the night until early this morning. So today I'll spend the day installing that can with the string on it and teaching Aidan how to yell into it should he need anything at night. Then I'll write a strongly worded letter to Fisher Price, because of course I didn't keep the receipt or the box to return the monitor. Then I'll take a nap.
So this is Stanley, my parents' chihuahua. Until about 2 weeks ago, he was so fat you couldn't see his legs because they were swallowed up by his body and you couldn't find his dog tags in his neck folds. A couple of weeks ago, my parents went away and left him at the pet "bed and breakfast" and he was so distraught, he wouldn't eat anything except canned Winn Dixie carrots. So, by the time they got back he had dropped all his weight and was skinny. Is it wrong that the first thing I thought was, well if Stanley could do it, so could I?
You may stink right now, but at least you still have one fan cheering you on!
ps. Get well soon, Chris Simms!
Having a hard time trying to figure out how much formula Aidan should get, now that I've stopped breastfeeding. He'll eat a 32 ounce bottle if we let him, so we have to gauge it now by how much he spits up afterward. Six ounces=massive spit-up. Five ounces=minimal spittle. Doctors "say" he's a baby. But could he really be a spittlebug? The world may never know.
spit·tle (sptl) Pronunciation Key n.
Spit; saliva.
The frothy liquid secreted by spittlebugs.
This is a shout out to my uncle who's serving in Iraq as we speak. I miss you! I dedicate my next gurgle-coo-grunt to you! I can't wait to see you soon!
Love,
Captain A.M.O. with the Poopy Brigade
1. First outfit of day following change out of pajamas
2. New outfit after spit-up
3. Another new outfit after large, orange spit-up. Culprit: carrots.
4. Wet outfit (sometime during nap). Another change.
Convinced son wants only to be naked.
Today I'm sad. It's officially the end of an era. 
We've moved on from boob to bottle and it doesn't even seem to phase him one bit! I didn't even really get to enjoy our last feeding because I didn't know it was going to be the last! We were down to one feeding a day, the one first thing in the morning. But he slept so long that I needed to pump, and it turned out that was my last feeding. I could have thrown one last feeding in there, I guess, but I could tell things were physically winding down, if you know what I mean. I'm going to miss that little face staring up at me and the feeling that I am the only one in the world that can give him what he needs.
Aidan loves other babies. He seems so confused, like he's thinking "What is this strange little person looking at me? He's as small as me. He looks like me. I'm perplexed at this little being." But he's fascinated.
I was talking to my mom this morning while Aidan was on the playmat, and all of a sudden we look down and he's on his belly. Usually there's a big production involved because he has large meat-hook arms and he can turn most of his body over but he can't seem to get past his one arm. There's a lot of grunting and swinging that very often ends in frustration and a thumb in the mouth. Lately though, like today, I just see the end result. No fanfare. No grunting. All of a sudden, he's just sitting there on his belly happy about it and I have no idea when it happened. After we put him down for the night, I'll hear a bunch of muffled grunting in the monitor and I'll know he just flipped himself over and all of a sudden "George is getting frustrated." He can't always roll back over.
Sometimes I just love Florida. It may be hot as blazes in the summer, but sometimes you get a glimpse of something you just know you won't see anywhere else. Like a flock of parrots hanging around in a bush at the beach. Who knew? Aidan loves it outside too, but he's entertained by things like benches and fans.
OK, so the guy loves vegetables, and hates fruit? So far, we've eaten sweet potatoes, carrots and squash, and he's loved them all. So, as directed, we moved on to fruits, which I thought would be a shoe-in and we started with my absolute favorite, plums. I've been known to buy jars of plum babyfood for myself even through college, but have you noticed they combine it now with apples or something? It's not the same. It's a travesty. Anyway, I made the plums myself cause I've been making all our babyfood and it's way easier than I ever thought it would be. And I swear it wasn't how I made them, because I tasted them and they were pretty darn good and they brought back lots of memories. Ahh, plums. Like home. But this is the face I got when he tried them! Every bite, I got this face. Good news is, he'll eat anything if it's on a spoon. And finish it. Like when we had to give him prune juice for his little poopy problem (see below) he wouldn't take them in a cup or bottle. He gobbled it all up on a spoon. And happily. Next week we're on to peas.
Looking at that face, you'd hardly believe he was a crying mess all day. Drool running down his face, a rash on his neck, and inevitably, his first fever. The fever was mild, mind you, but that doesn't matter. When you think something might be wrong with your little man, inside, you're as broken up as he is on the outside. Only difference is, I can't show it. I can just smile, sing and hug. Well I can't believe I didn't know it myself, I thought he was having an allergy from either something I ate or from being outside. My mother-in-law thought she saw the outline of little teeth and when he woke up from his nap, I felt his bottom gums and sure enough, there they were! Two tiny little ridges, poking out from beneath, trying to break free. His first teeth! Yayyyyyy! And boy are they sharp. Now, I spend our time nursing begging my husband not to cough or sneeze because when Aidan gets scared, he bites. Yikes!
There are few times during the day when Aidan is blissfully and unabashedly happy. When he's eating, when he's playing, and especially, when he's nekked. Without his clothing and without his diaper, he's just ecstatic. Arms down at his side and legs kicking wildly like he's performing with the Riverdance Troupe. Maybe it's because he's a boy, and boys would walk around naked all day long if they were allowed to. Or maybe because he's free. But at the ripe old age of 5 months, he's a little man who knows what he likes. And it's the fresh air on his bottom.
So you've seen the pictures of how tiny Aidan was when he was born. Our friends recently had a six pound baby girl, who was the tiniest thing we ever saw, and we couldn't even imagine anymore how little Aidan must've been at one point. Even in the pictures, we can't see it. Now, he has ham hocks for legs and big arms that look like the Michelin Man. And within these giant appendages are folds and creases that get food and various liquids caught in them, and sometimes you don't find them for days. Just when you thought you've cleaned them all out, you find another one with all sorts of stuff in it. And it can get smelly. So we go on "fold patrol," a routine browse for foreign objects within the rolls in his neck (there are two in there), his arms, his pits, and his thighs, legs and bottom (there are a great many in this region). Not to mention, between his fingers, his toes, and in and around his little ears. It's lovely. We find lint, leftover milk, baby food, "other" stuff, and the other day, I found my keys.
I've been pounding the pavement these days trying to get those baby pounds to shrink away to somewhere other than my thighs and my belly. It wasn't five minutes that I left the hospital that I lost a good bit of it, but the rest redistributed, and settled in the most ungodly places and now I have ruffles and ridges where I never thought there would be. So, here's Aidan after one of our fun workouts that includes moms and strollers. I joined a group called "Stroller Fit" and it allows moms to work out with their babies, and also gets me out to meet other moms. This is good for me because I'm struggling to find my "mom identity." I've been shy and unsociable these days, mainly because at home, I'm quietly confident. But outside my own home, I feel like every other mom out there has all the secrets and has it together and I'm walking around clueless. So I'm trying to come out of my shell and I hope this helps. Plus, the scenery's amazing. We work out along the water and it's pretty funny watching people drive in and out of the marina laughing at the group of moms running around with their strollers. Aidan loves it because while we work out, we sing songs to the kids, so they get a big kick out of it. It's better than when I'm at home and I do my TV workout with Gilad, that European-looking curly haired man who exercises with his five helpers on the beach in Hawaii. You've seen him on ESPN, now he's on FitTV and I tape all the workouts so I can fast forward through commercials and not have to workout during them like he says. It's a great workout. I curse Gilad while I'm doing it because my head says "yeah!" but my butt is screaming "no!" You should try it. I feel like I know him. He messes up sometimes during the workout and it's funny. Anyway, he's helping me to fight off my nemesis, named "Ice Cream" who calls to me nightly, trying to make me re-join it's evil, evil club. But I won't! No! I won't!
I was walking through Target today, when Aidan became a cloud of flatulence. I was looking at discounted school supplies, particularly backpacks but they were all the "rolling" kind that I don't like, which was near the Halloween section, when two men browsing nearby caught wind of it. As the little toots became louder, the only thing I could do was shrug and say in mommy-baby voice "Stinky baby, who's the stinky baby!" and run away with the cart. I always feel my face get hot because I feel like it's like blaming the dog, but there's nothing I can do to stop the sounds, which I swear, now that he's eating vegetables, are like grown ups! Aidan's also trying out new vocal sounds, which are piercing throaty shrieks. He does it when he's happy, he does it when he's getting frustrated, and now he does it when he wants to get out of taking naps. Besides these new sounds, there's the normal gurgles, the coos, the cries, the burps, the sighs, and the grunts. And when he grunts, you know what's coming. I'll tell you that much.
Yes. It really is cute when the poop belongs to your kid. A friend of mine asked me today if it was true, and I had to admit that it was. I can hardly believe it myself. I've never thought in my life poop would be cute. Poop from other kids has grossed me out and even, at times made me gag. Probably like you will after reading this, because it's not your kid and it's not cute. I know, it's ok. Don't feel bad, I've been that person. I once told my husband when we were newly married that once we have a kid, I guarantee he'll get excited about poop. Of course he said he'd never ever be happy about poop. But sure enough, shortly after Aidan started eating rice cereal, he got all clogged up. Before that, we got at least a poop a day. But we got nervous after 5 days. When was this elusive poop going to happen? Why must you wait so long, poop? My husband had to go on a business trip and on day 6 of no poop he called me from the airport on his way home and asked if the poop had arrived yet. After trying prune juice and milk of magnesia, the poop made a messy debut and I was so excited to tell him, finally, yes! The poop is here! He got excited and asked me, happily, solid or liquid??
It was a little tough coming out of the starting gates for baby Aidan, who decided to come out a little early. I had pre-eclampsia, and very high blood pressure, and my water broke back in April. What a scary night that was. I'll never forget it. It was the night before Bucky got voted off American Idol. My bag sat empty on the floor with a list of the stuff to take with me to the hospital, and ironically I was going to pack it the very next day. I guess Aidan wouldn't have it! He got poked and prodded for a couple of weeks in the NICU, and was pretty jaundiced for a while...but almost 5 months later, he's thriving just like any other little boy and we're happy and excited and finally getting the sleep we all so well deserve. I was afraid those first couple weeks would make him grumpy (all the nurses called him a tempermental old man, but who wouldn't be, being stuck in that incubator with an IV on your head!) Thankfully, his smiles arrived a few months later, and they haven't stopped since. But I'm still waiting to hear that belly laugh! I'm a little late, getting started with our baby blog, but I'm sure we'll catch up.
