Showing posts with label lookie here. Show all posts
Showing posts with label lookie here. Show all posts

Monday, January 2, 2012

Girls in Dress Coats

Eek!  Girls in dress coats only makes me want to have more girls in dress coats. 




Monday, November 7, 2011

All About Waylon

Because you can never have enough baby pictures, right?

[FYI, I started this post in draft form on 9/20 and it's been sitting there unpublished since then. The content was updated and is current as of sometime in October, but many of the pics are from when Waylon was only 7 days old.  Oh well.  Such is life right now.  ]

I realized that a lot of my recent posts have been more about life with Waylon rather than about Waylon himself. The little dude. The pone-pone. A-weem-a-way.  Waylony-way.  Way-way.  Waylonia.  (We're throwing nicknames at him left and right and just waiting to see what sticks.)

And I'm sorry if the written part of this post totally bores you, but I figure Waylon deserves to have his babyhood documented, too, just like his sisters.  (Well, maybe to a lesser degree.  I'm pretty sure back in 2007 I posted about Georgia scooching down in her crib - no joke.)  

So, what can I tell you about him?  Life with a newborn, a two year old, and a four year old is hard, but he is an easy baby.  Dare I say, docile.  We kind of knew that, but it took taking him to Austin for the weekend and leaving the girls back home with their grandparents to have it really hit home.  Funny how traveling with a two month old would've terrified me when Georgia was a baby, but with Waylon it truly felt like vacation to temporarily have only one child to look after.  I think he liked it, too - finally getting all of his parents' attention, and not being bombarded all day by his sisters.  We definitely got in some quality baby bonding on that trip.

He's very "readable", in that he really only fusses if tired or hungry, and it's fairly simple to tell which is the problem just by knowing when he last ate.  Maybe 10% of his readability comes from the fact that this is our third time doing this baby thing, so we've gained some insight from experience.  We really can't take credit for about 90% of it, though - it's all Waylon.  He doesn't cry unless we can't get to him in time, say, when he's in the crib but I'm tied up helping June on or off the toilet, or when he's trapped in his carseat while I'm sitting in the preschool pick-up line .  (Oh man, that's when he really tests those lungs!)  His "I'm tired" signal is mild fussing, his "I'm hungry" signal rapidly escalates to an all out yell in a matter of minutes until you can silence him with a boob.  Oh, that.  Yeah, he's doing okay with the bottles, not all out refusing them like June did, but he's got a strong preference for the real deal as he sees it.

I didn't dare blog about any of this until I was sure that the colic window had closed, but I think it's safe to say we've escaped that now.  Which is such a good thing, because let's face it, I couldn't handle colic because I'm a total baby wimp.  I've got the easiest one on the planet to deal with, yet I still have a list of complaints.  What are they?  Oh, I thought you'd never ask.

For starters, he loves falling asleep in baby carriers, but he's in the "I will only sleep while on you" phase of life.  Which is sweet, don't get me wrong.  Even in my most tired moments I still find myself leaning down to kiss the top of his head, or rub our cheeks together, because his cheek is quite possibly the softest thing in the universe, and well, Georgia and June aren't so into that anymore, so I know these moments won't last.  But still... a mama's back starts to hurt.  I get greedy and crave peeing by myself.  I guess I don't know how to explain it, but I assume it's a universal sentiment to sometimes want to put your baby down, right?

Our only other complaint is that he still goes to bed way too late, sometimes requiring 2-3 hours of bouncing just to soothe him off to slumberland, thus leaving us with no evening to ourselves to speak of.  (No, his bedtime is not just mistimed.  Trust me, I've re-skimmed the Weissbluth.)  So, I hit the sack exhausted each night, worrying about my to-do list that seems to never get touched and feeling frustrated that this whole childcare gig is truly an around the clock job.  Rationally I know that Joe and I are just being impatient, though, because the girls were like this, too, requiring several weeks (or was it months?) worth of this bouncing and shushing stuff until they got past it.  I'm sure his natural bedtime will shift somewhere closer to 7:00 soon, but right now we're often not off duty until 10:30 or 11.  While that may not sound like any big thing to adults without children, (or adults with grown children who have long since forgotten the baby years), trust me when I say that performing the delicate dance of setting the baby down in slow motion and holding your breath while hoping that he doesn't awaken again the second his head makes contact with a mattress, can become maddening by the time you're on round four of it for the evening after a tiring day.  Is "enragening" a word?  Well, it should be.  I'd like to believe it wouldn't bother me if it weren't for the whole "I have two other children to watch after all day" aspect of things.  Poor guy; it's not really Waylon's fault.  He's just being a baby.   

Sidebar:  I have to ask, what do people mean when they talk about "rocking" the baby to sleep?  Sitting in a rocker in the nursery, rocking back and forth for hours?  That sounds pretty nice to me, because none of our three children have had any interest in falling asleep that way.  Sitting would be awesome, but Waylon insists on more constant motion, being walked all over the house, preferably next to the loudest white noise we've got, which happens to be the microwave exhaust fan.  So we take shifts bouncing him around the kitchen in the dark, pondering the depth of the meaning of the fact that the button is labeled "Exhaust."  And how does co-sleeping even work?  It's not that I'm opposed to the idea of it, it's just that there is nothing about me lying down next to my babies that has ever seemed to make them want to sleep.  Am I doing it all wrong?   

...Aaaaand we're back.

Then he falls asleep and often does not get up again until morning.  <-- See, with that one sentence, I know I just lost all of your sympathy.  I can tell you without a doubt, though, that I would gladly trade a quick nighttime feeding for his looooong bedtime routine.  

Well, enough of my griping, because the one thing that's for certain is that everything's going to change.  Just as soon as you think you've got a baby's so-called schedule figured out, they switch it up on you.  I am longing for the day that he takes naps at predictable times for predictable durations, but I'm also relishing the fact that right now, with no set schedule, he's 100% portable and flexible.  So, I feel no guilt strapping him into a carseat to go pick Georgia up from school, which is nice.  I know that won't last.

Waylon's growing and healthy, and we love this happy little dude to pieces.  Before we get on with the pictures, here are his stats and other details, which no one cares about with the possible exception of Future Kate, who may one day wonder about these things and want a record of them:

8 lbs., 15 oz.
21 inches

Four Day Doctor's Appointment:
8 lbs., 9.5 oz.

Two Week Doctor's Appointment:
9 lbs., 14 oz.
22.5 inches
15 1/2 inch head circumference

One-Month Doctor's Appointment:
11 lbs., 13 oz. (90-95%)
23 3/4 inches (>95%)
16 1/4 inch head circumference (95%)

Two-Month Doctor's Appointment:
13 lbs., 4 oz. (75-90%)
24 3/4 inches (>95%)
16 1/2 inch head circumference (90%)
  • His hair may be thinning on the sides, but so far he has not lost that full head of hair he was born with.  Also, it's curly when wet.  (The hair plus his size tends to make strangers guess that he's far older than his actual age.)
  • He's kind of bad at tummy time and nearly failed the test at his two month appointment.  Oops.  More workouts for him, I guess. 
  • His biggest project right now is finding his fingers.  Go, Waylon, go!  (Since he never took an interest in the pacifiers we offered, I'm all for him figuring out the self soothing.)
  • He's cooing and laughing now.  Isn't it so nice when a baby develops the ability to make happy sounds? 
  • He's puking up a storm and giving Baby June, former spit up champion of the world, a run for her money at this point.  Three kids and three spitters I've had now.  Ugh.  Not the biggest problem in the grand scheme of things, but man, it wears on you.  

(First 8 fancy photos are courtesy of Elaine Melko.)

















Little babies like black and white. But do they notice subliminal messages?
Subliminal Messages

This is what happens when you wake up and panic that your baby's babyhood is flying by without enough mother-son photos so you take matters into your own hands.




Do not try this at home. I'm sure it violates every safety rule, but Waylon has spent quite a bit of time parked right there on the counter, comfortably close to his favorite exhaust fan.
Do Not Try This At Home

See, it's rather curly when wet:
Curly When Wet

A rarity
Him falling asleep while eating and then staying asleep is a rarity, but I love the aerial view of this scene and how it captures my baby blanket, a breast pump, and the Weissbluth book on the nightstand. That's a fairly representative snapshot of my life right now.

Miracle Blanket = miracle worker


Waylon's 1st wedding
First Wedding! (With Kelly & Miles)
(With Kelly and Baby Miles)

Uncle Fred and Aunt Margaret
Thank you, Aunt Margaret & Uncle Fred, for babysitting while we were in Austin!

First Swim!
First "swim".

Apparently that tired him out.


Saturday, October 29, 2011

Friday, July 8, 2011

Bikes, Green Leaf Carpeting, and Other Summer Stuff

A summer picture catch-up post.  Enjoy! 

You guys, Georgia has been making such amazing strides in her preschool readiness! I think she actually likes the little transition class that she's in now for a few hours each week and is looking forward to 3 day a week preschool in the fall. She's still our little reluctant joiner, though. Here she is at soccer "camp". I was not there but am told that dear Harry was comforting her after some tears.
{Bad mommy = notice I was too cheap to buy her itty-bitty shinguards for just five 1-hour days of camp.  She seemed satisfied with knee socks, though.} 

No, that's not a nap. That, my friends, is a tantrum.

Women's work?


Paint the town wet.

We do get out and about from time to time.

Caged at the zoo.

Our front steps the morning after the biggest hail storm I've ever seen, including my years in Texas and Missouri. What's that? You want a ball size comparison? Let's go with golf ball. It was 80 degrees out, but the ground looked as ice-covered as February. I wish I had pictures but would've been pelted. Our poor new van. : (

The entire neighborhood looked like this the next day.

June loves her monkey and "bankie." (Sara B. - that's the lovey you embroidered for her - she has really taken to it!)

She's always up to mischief of one kind...
or another...(she loves sampling the foam from Daddy's beer with her finger)

I guess in Illinois we call this a hill?

Thought this looked like the quintessential picture of Americana for Independence Day weekend:


Kiss the cook! (with World's Cutest Ponytail)


And then there was the children's bike parade in Beth's neighborhood on the 4th. One of those things that you look forward to and then rave about afterwards but during it have to wonder if you've lost your mind or if the children even consider themselves to be having "fun." It felt like 100 degrees to this pregnant lady, and at least in the case of our children, the bike parade should've instead been called the walk/ride/complain/cry because there's a fire truck/pick-me-up mama parade. As you can see from the pictures, every possible form of transport and combination of children was involved. Georgia recently got a new balance bike that she's been very excited about practicing with, but needless to say, she was totally over riding it by the time we arrived at the parade start. *Sigh*


Cousin Alice

At least Cousin Sam was smart enough to admit from the get-go that he had no intention of biking once he heard a wagon was available!

Children practicing the art of looking anywhere but the camera.


Mama, up!

Uncle Lach, carry me!

Uncle Lach, shoulders!

Georgia now opting for the wagon instead of walking. (Note that for lack of additional hands to carry stuff, I insisted that she keep her helmet on the whole time. Ha!)

We bailed out of the line for seeing the cab of the fire truck due to incessant whining. Well, that plus the fact that Georgia had already cried when the siren came on, and panicked when we asked her to pose on the back of the truck for a picture with her cousins, saying, "But it's going to leave!" A fire fighter assured her the engine was off. I swear, that girl's fear of abandonment runs DEEP.

After the parade, she told me it was all fantastic and thanked me for taking her there. No joke.

And now, the grand finale: the patches. As soon as she heard that she was getting a new bike, Georgia excitedly began demanding "patches" to go with it. I have no idea where she's even seen knee and elbow pads (and coordinating gloves) -- maybe at the skate park in our neighborhood or on TV? Or why she thinks she needs them, but that's okay, because to her they are awesome. Also, we play doctor with them now, natch. Lots of broken bones around our house.
{Look very closely to spot our first tomatoes. They've come so far! Loving the EarthBoxes, thanks Mom and Dad and Marsha and Dave!}