He didn't eat much, but it's a start. :)
I am still finding mashed nanner. EVERYWHERE. He even had some in his diaper.
And, just because it's cutecutecute (and oddly appropriate):
Hope you're well and smiling. :)
May 27, 2010
Banana-Palooza 2010
He didn't eat much, but it's a start. :)
I am still finding mashed nanner. EVERYWHERE. He even had some in his diaper.
And, just because it's cutecutecute (and oddly appropriate):
Hope you're well and smiling. :)
May 14, 2010
HUH???!!!
You might be wondering if I've been abducted by aliens...or, perhaps you think I have joined nudist colony, or a cult, or...I dunno.
That little face up there? It says it ALL!
The truth of the matter is, I have been finding things a bit overwhelming of late. It happens to all of us, I imagine...and it's nothing I can't handle with a smile on my face, but still. Things are a bit crazy, and my blog is one of the casualties for now. *patting my blog on the head* *wondering if it is possible for a blog to have a head*
Jude is now mobile, and I spend my days chasing him around as he torments the cats, smacks the dog and gets himself into various sticky situations. He is not above trying to get under the couch, or into the cat's sleeping baskets. If he catches sight of the dog's rawhide, a dog toy or any kind of slipper/shoe/sock, he's SO THERE.
What you can't see here is that he is pulling Rory's fur. Look how calm Rory is about it.
I just can't quite get over what a big boy he is getting to be. We have graduated to size 3 diapers and 12 month outfits due to his length. All of his pants are too big around the waist, however, because this kid? He HATES to eat.
Call me crazy, but I was under the impression that babies live to eat. I was wrong. The fight begins the moment he even sees the bottle or bowl of food and doesn't end until one of us gives up. I end up spending my whole day hovering a bottle over his mouth (and trying to restrain him as he whacks at it and screams), in an effort to at LEAST make 20 ounces. I know it's all about the teeth that are taking their sweet time ramming through his tender little gums, but come on. There have been a few times that we have both ended up in tears. Mine fearful, his frustrated.
Thankfully he is getting better at this:
I had to break him of this habit, obviously...so I bought him a snuggly.
I'm hoping that in a few weeks, I will be able to update here a bit more often...and have more time to visit and comment on the blogs I love to read. But, in the meantime, I hope you are all well.
Now, if you'll excuse me, I need to go prick my finger and feed the tulips.
FeeeeeeEEEEED ME, SEE-MOAH!
Apr 19, 2010
The Night Has Eyes...
Tonight is one of those nights.
The windows, the doors, are threats to my sanity. I half expect to glance at a window and find a face peering in at me. I can almost hear pounding at the door...the click of a lock, or the splintering of wood.
Tonight, I am fighting the urge to duck as I pass panes of glass.
Tonight, I am triple checking all of the doors.
Suddenly, everything seems temporary, fleeting. This life, Jude's gummy smile. Spring will pass and summer will wilt into autumn and a first year will have passed. Winter will swallow us whole, and at the end of it, a little bit more of Jude's childhood will have been gobbled. Never to be seen again. There will be teeth and training pants. Soon, the widening of shoulders and the narrowing of hips...underarm hair and attitude. The unmistakable musk of approaching adulthood.
It's going too fast.
Today, I received my revised health card. Below my name and number is Jude's name, and a brand spanking new number that is all his own. Below all of this is the donor card. I want to do the right thing, and will, as soon as I am able. But, for now...I can't even allow the possibility that his heart could ever beat in someone else's chest, or that his kidneys could someday help eliminate someone else's waste. His heart still beats against mine when I hold him tight. I still change his diapers.
And yet, day by day, his body gradually becomes less of an extension of mine and becomes more his own. He arches his back as I dress him. He turns in my arms to look where he wants to look. He imitates kisses and laughs at the dog.
He is willful; strong. Every day, he needs me just that little bit less.
We are being stalked by time. It plasters itself against the windows, mewls on the doorstep, glares at us from underneath the bushes.
For now, I'm not letting it in.
The windows, the doors, are threats to my sanity. I half expect to glance at a window and find a face peering in at me. I can almost hear pounding at the door...the click of a lock, or the splintering of wood.
Tonight, I am fighting the urge to duck as I pass panes of glass.
Tonight, I am triple checking all of the doors.
Suddenly, everything seems temporary, fleeting. This life, Jude's gummy smile. Spring will pass and summer will wilt into autumn and a first year will have passed. Winter will swallow us whole, and at the end of it, a little bit more of Jude's childhood will have been gobbled. Never to be seen again. There will be teeth and training pants. Soon, the widening of shoulders and the narrowing of hips...underarm hair and attitude. The unmistakable musk of approaching adulthood.
It's going too fast.
Today, I received my revised health card. Below my name and number is Jude's name, and a brand spanking new number that is all his own. Below all of this is the donor card. I want to do the right thing, and will, as soon as I am able. But, for now...I can't even allow the possibility that his heart could ever beat in someone else's chest, or that his kidneys could someday help eliminate someone else's waste. His heart still beats against mine when I hold him tight. I still change his diapers.
And yet, day by day, his body gradually becomes less of an extension of mine and becomes more his own. He arches his back as I dress him. He turns in my arms to look where he wants to look. He imitates kisses and laughs at the dog.
He is willful; strong. Every day, he needs me just that little bit less.
We are being stalked by time. It plasters itself against the windows, mewls on the doorstep, glares at us from underneath the bushes.
For now, I'm not letting it in.
Apr 18, 2010
Randomness...
1) I can't wait for the microwave...even if I have only set it for 30 seconds. I pace, I find things to do, but time seems to stop when the microwave is doin' its business. I get so antsy that I HAVE to stop it...3 seconds, or 1 second left on the timer. And then I don't clear it, which drives the other members of the household crazy.
Mom: WHY do you always leave leftover time on the microwave??!!
Me: Oh, it's this new "no patience" thing I'm going through...I can't stand to let the microwave run its course.
Mom: Yeah, but now we never know what time it is in the kitchen.
2) The morning-time rainbows that live in the living room love my son. The moment he is on the floor, a rainbow comes and finds him...shines in his eyes, or hangs out in his ear. He doesn't seem to mind.
Mom: WHY do you always leave leftover time on the microwave??!!
Me: Oh, it's this new "no patience" thing I'm going through...I can't stand to let the microwave run its course.
Mom: Yeah, but now we never know what time it is in the kitchen.
2) The morning-time rainbows that live in the living room love my son. The moment he is on the floor, a rainbow comes and finds him...shines in his eyes, or hangs out in his ear. He doesn't seem to mind.
Buddy? You have something on your face. No, no...right there.
3) Spring has definitely sprung. The maples/poplars/willows/birches are all budding, and there are strange fingers poking out of the flowerbeds already.
All of the above were actually taken on March 31st. Can you believe it?
4) I am lovin' on this song lately...yum.
"Why are you so scared
You stand there shaking in your pew
The icons are whispering to you
They're just old men
Like on the benches in the park
Except their balding spots are glistening with gold"
You stand there shaking in your pew
The icons are whispering to you
They're just old men
Like on the benches in the park
Except their balding spots are glistening with gold"
5) Jude can stand with the help of the coffee table. The beginning of the end...
6) I changed my template...again. I can't stand a white page. I tried to conform, I really did...but I am just not a conformist.
7) I don't know why I feel the need to do these posts in list form.
8) I mean, jeez...I used to be able to write a paragraph.
9) But, now it all has to broken down and numbered...methodically separated like Jude's rice and apples. Or oats and peas.
10) *sigh* I want my brain back.
Apr 14, 2010
5 Pet Peeves...
because I am feeling peevish tonight, and it just can't be helped.
1) Kate Gosselin. Just her name ticks me off.
2) Improper use of quotation marks.
This particular irritation began a few years ago when I went to pick my cat Rory up from the vet. On his carrier was a little "Hello, My Name Is" sticker, and the sticker read:
"Rory".
Why the quotation marks? Rory is not just what we're calling him these days. It's his name. I mean...I know that in the cat world his name is likely something different, like Zoomba, slayer of small creatures...or YYYYYYEEEEEEEoooooOOOOOOOOOOOwwwwwWWWWWWW, eater of moths. But, he is Rory to me.
After I had Jude, this sickness seemed to have infected several friends and family members as well. I cannot tell you how many cards were inscribed as such:
To Baby "Jude".
I can just picture the air quotes. What? His name isn't really Jude? What is it, then...because I should surely be calling him by his proper name.
But the crowning glory?
The use of quotation marks to emphasize a word. For example:
What a "beautiful" day!!!
*stomp-stomp-fume*
(At this juncture, I would like to mention that I am aware that my grammar is not always perfect. I am much too fond of asterisks, parentheses and ellipses. I pepper my written conversations with emoticons and am never completely sure what to do with a comma, BUT...it's my blog. *grin*) <----a perfect example of my imperfect writing style.
3) The fact that gravity works on everything but my underwear. WHY must it always ride up, even as my boobs succumb to gravity's relentless pull?
4) The fact that my can of formula tells me that breastmilk is best for my baby:
I know. I failed at breastfeeding and I feel terrible about it as it is. Why rub it in?
My mother and I were at BabiesRUs a month or so ago, and she picked up an Evenflo bottle-gripper thingy because she wondered what it was. Right underneath the Evenflo logo, it said "Breastmilk is the best nutrition for your baby". You could have knocked me over with a feather.
I am tired of seeing these little reminders everywhere. There is more than enough guilt placed on moms as it is. Why add to it? And, what if I was using my bottle-gripper thingy on a bottle full of breastmilk?
5) Do you ever watch What Not To Wear?
I canNOT stand it when the wardrobe malfunctions turned fashion plates model-walk. I squirm. I comment on it every time. WHY is she twirling around a lamp post? WHAT is she doing to that hydrant? Something about those fake smiles and stiff-legged saunters make me twitch and flail.
Case in point: (the insanity REALLY begins at 3:47!)
(Stacy and Clinton would totally toss my entire wardrobe becauseI still wear my maternity jeans because they are comfy it is outdated and ugly.)
1) Kate Gosselin. Just her name ticks me off.
2) Improper use of quotation marks.
This particular irritation began a few years ago when I went to pick my cat Rory up from the vet. On his carrier was a little "Hello, My Name Is" sticker, and the sticker read:
"Rory".
Why the quotation marks? Rory is not just what we're calling him these days. It's his name. I mean...I know that in the cat world his name is likely something different, like Zoomba, slayer of small creatures...or YYYYYYEEEEEEEoooooOOOOOOOOOOOwwwwwWWWWWWW, eater of moths. But, he is Rory to me.
After I had Jude, this sickness seemed to have infected several friends and family members as well. I cannot tell you how many cards were inscribed as such:
To Baby "Jude".
I can just picture the air quotes. What? His name isn't really Jude? What is it, then...because I should surely be calling him by his proper name.
But the crowning glory?
The use of quotation marks to emphasize a word. For example:
What a "beautiful" day!!!
*stomp-stomp-fume*
(At this juncture, I would like to mention that I am aware that my grammar is not always perfect. I am much too fond of asterisks, parentheses and ellipses. I pepper my written conversations with emoticons and am never completely sure what to do with a comma, BUT...it's my blog. *grin*) <----a perfect example of my imperfect writing style.
3) The fact that gravity works on everything but my underwear. WHY must it always ride up, even as my boobs succumb to gravity's relentless pull?
4) The fact that my can of formula tells me that breastmilk is best for my baby:
I know. I failed at breastfeeding and I feel terrible about it as it is. Why rub it in?
My mother and I were at BabiesRUs a month or so ago, and she picked up an Evenflo bottle-gripper thingy because she wondered what it was. Right underneath the Evenflo logo, it said "Breastmilk is the best nutrition for your baby". You could have knocked me over with a feather.
I am tired of seeing these little reminders everywhere. There is more than enough guilt placed on moms as it is. Why add to it? And, what if I was using my bottle-gripper thingy on a bottle full of breastmilk?
5) Do you ever watch What Not To Wear?
I canNOT stand it when the wardrobe malfunctions turned fashion plates model-walk. I squirm. I comment on it every time. WHY is she twirling around a lamp post? WHAT is she doing to that hydrant? Something about those fake smiles and stiff-legged saunters make me twitch and flail.
Case in point: (the insanity REALLY begins at 3:47!)
(Stacy and Clinton would totally toss my entire wardrobe because
Apr 9, 2010
Mean Milk Toof
The past few weeks, there has been a lot of this going on:
And this*:
And this:
And THIS:
He shark attacks objects...fingers, elbows, toys, the dog...barely eats**, hardly sleeps...all in the name of this:
The above sharp little sucker is smashing its way through my poor little son's tender gums. The one beside it is not far behind, and it feels like several others are not too far behind that.
Way to go ahead and grow up too fast on me, baby boy. :)
Oh, and...this is the cutest blog, EVER. It seems fitting, just about now. Enjoy:
My Milk Toof
* No, I did not buy that Sophie. It was given to Jude as a gift. I would NEVER spend $20 on a teething toy. ;)
** has anyone else's child refused to eat while cutting teeth? What are your thoughts on this phenomenon? Jude wails, kicks, arches, turns his head side to side, slaps the bottle out of his mouth. Swaddling no longer works. What did YOU do? Thanks in advance!
And this*:
And this:
And THIS:
He shark attacks objects...fingers, elbows, toys, the dog...barely eats**, hardly sleeps...all in the name of this:
The above sharp little sucker is smashing its way through my poor little son's tender gums. The one beside it is not far behind, and it feels like several others are not too far behind that.
Way to go ahead and grow up too fast on me, baby boy. :)
Oh, and...this is the cutest blog, EVER. It seems fitting, just about now. Enjoy:
My Milk Toof
* No, I did not buy that Sophie. It was given to Jude as a gift. I would NEVER spend $20 on a teething toy. ;)
** has anyone else's child refused to eat while cutting teeth? What are your thoughts on this phenomenon? Jude wails, kicks, arches, turns his head side to side, slaps the bottle out of his mouth. Swaddling no longer works. What did YOU do? Thanks in advance!
Apr 7, 2010
Wild Wednesday: Sarcastic Fringehead
This was originally posted Nov.9th, 2009.
In my next life, I would like to be one of these guys.
I find them almost as funny as I find hippos...(and, I rarely laugh as hard as I did the time I watched a documentary featuring hippos) Sarcastic Fringehead! Best name ever.
A description:
The sarcastic fringehead - Neoclinus blanchardi - can be found in the waters of the Pacific Coast from San Francisco down to Baja California. Though the Fringehead is a small fish, rarely reaching a foot in length, they are known to be quite aggressive, even swimming after divers. Their native habitat is empty shells and small caves or burrows - though they are often observed living quite comfortably in discarded beer bottles and soda cans. Milton Love, noted fish biologist and author of "Probably More Than You Wanted to Know About the Fishes of the Pacific Coast" has this to say about the fringehead:"Sarcastic fringeheads are occasionally taken by both sport and commercial fishermen, and when this happens, no one is completely comfortable. The fish tend to be cranky and the fishermen tend to be nervous. I have seen very rugged commercial fishermen, men who laugh in the face of danger, doing fairly amusing little dances while a 6-inch-long fish clamp sharp teeth around their thumbs."
and this one:
These fish are found along open coastlines on sand or hard mud bottoms , outside the breaker zone in depths of 3-73 m (10-240 ft ). They live in various kinds of shelters , such as empty clam or snail shells , abandoned burrows, and cracks in clay or rock outcroppings. They also find human trash such as cans and bottles satisfactory as a home worth protecting. Whatever the shelter used, a sarcastic fringehead claims it as its home territory, fiercely defending it against intruders. The larger the container , the larger the fringehead occupying it.
These fish give a whole new meaning to coveting someone elses stuff. Imagine if that was our way of dealing with the real estate market. You like someone else's house, so you just...take it. Sarcastically. With a really grumpy look on your face.
I could get into that.
In my next life, I would like to be one of these guys.
I find them almost as funny as I find hippos...(and, I rarely laugh as hard as I did the time I watched a documentary featuring hippos) Sarcastic Fringehead! Best name ever.
A description:
The sarcastic fringehead - Neoclinus blanchardi - can be found in the waters of the Pacific Coast from San Francisco down to Baja California. Though the Fringehead is a small fish, rarely reaching a foot in length, they are known to be quite aggressive, even swimming after divers. Their native habitat is empty shells and small caves or burrows - though they are often observed living quite comfortably in discarded beer bottles and soda cans. Milton Love, noted fish biologist and author of "Probably More Than You Wanted to Know About the Fishes of the Pacific Coast" has this to say about the fringehead:"Sarcastic fringeheads are occasionally taken by both sport and commercial fishermen, and when this happens, no one is completely comfortable. The fish tend to be cranky and the fishermen tend to be nervous. I have seen very rugged commercial fishermen, men who laugh in the face of danger, doing fairly amusing little dances while a 6-inch-long fish clamp sharp teeth around their thumbs."
and this one:
These fish are found along open coastlines on sand or hard mud bottoms , outside the breaker zone in depths of 3-73 m (10-240 ft ). They live in various kinds of shelters , such as empty clam or snail shells , abandoned burrows, and cracks in clay or rock outcroppings. They also find human trash such as cans and bottles satisfactory as a home worth protecting. Whatever the shelter used, a sarcastic fringehead claims it as its home territory, fiercely defending it against intruders. The larger the container , the larger the fringehead occupying it.
These fish give a whole new meaning to coveting someone elses stuff. Imagine if that was our way of dealing with the real estate market. You like someone else's house, so you just...take it. Sarcastically. With a really grumpy look on your face.
I could get into that.
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