Autumn Kickoff

Mom and I have been talking about going to a pumpkin patch in the fall for the past few years, but for some reason we've never gotten around to it. Now that a child is in the picture, there's a little more motivation (read: obligation) to get off our butts and out of the house and do fun things together as a family. So, since Stephen sent Asher and me away to Mom's for the weekend, we saw it as a great opportunity to get in the spirit of Autumn and Halloween and spontaneously drove forty miles to Wabash to go to Campbell's Pumpkin Patch. Sure, there were closer pumpkin patches, but where is the adventure in that?

We were glad we made the trip. Campbell's had a very nice selection of pumpkins, a little gift shop, donkeys to freak the babies out, ducks to nibble your fingers off, hayrides, and a snack bar with my favorite: apple cider slushies. Mm. Not to mention, the weather was absolutely PERFECT. The only thing that sucked was that Stephen wasn't there, but we know he was having too much fun working to go on a stupid family outing.

Asher had a great time (minus the snorting donkey that scared the crap out of him) and was on his best behavior. He was even agreeable to posing with a bunch of pumpkins. As I was eagerly snapping photos of him, I wondered, why is it that babies and pumpkins look so darn cute together?

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Six Years Hitched

Yesterday was our sixth wedding anniversary and we may have possibly hit an all-time low on the romance scale. Asher and I spent the weekend at my mom's (again) while Stephen worked all weekend (again), so we didn't even get to spend the day together. We did enjoy a lovely dinner at the very fancy Olive Garden, complete with a delicious dessert of tiramisu, and the best part was we ate for FREE. You know, because we dined with my parents (who were nice enough to treat us, as usual). And the baby. ROMANTIC, I know.

But that's okay. Something I've learned about us over the years is that we simply aren't the romantic kind of people. Sure, we hold hands and are affectionate and say "I love you" to each other all the time. But we aren't very mushy about it. It's all sort of matter-of-fact. Maybe it's because we've been together for twelve years and are way past trying to impress one another or proving our love to the other. Really, though, I think it's largely to do with the fact that we're both very, very lazy. Romance takes a lot of time, energy, and effort that we just aren't willing to put forth.

I love our un-romantic life together, though. I love being with someone who lets me be me, no holds barred, and loves me nevertheless. I love not feeling like I have to be wearing make-up at all times, or shaving every day, or showering every day. I love being able to belch and fart full force without fear of judgment. Everything is out in the open, our life is boring and maybe even a little lame, but it's real. And sometimes smelly.

Now that we have a baby, life has become even more real. In the past year, I've been amazed at how much lack of sleep, stress, hormones, and a grumpy baby can affect a marriage. I'm very glad that we waited as long as we did before throwing a baby into the mix because, honestly? I can completely understand how marriages can end once kids are in the picture. I thought there was no way our relationship could ever be shaken until we brought that little munchkin home from the hospital. Whew. Let's just say that Stephen's patience is ASTOUNDING. But seriously, it's been both strange and wonderful for me to watch my doting husband become a doting father and to go from being a couple to a family. When I think of us dating back in high school, it feels like that was a lifetime ago. In a good way.

Happy anniversary, Stephen. Thank you for putting up with me, thank you for being a wonderful father to our child, and thank you most of all for laughing with me every time I toot on the leather seats in the car. That's what makes this marriage work. You are the best and I love you more than life itself, and I mean that in a totally non-mushy way.

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Upgrading the Menu

Asher is just shy of nine months old and, as I recently posted, it's becoming increasingly difficult to feed him. I'd read that many babies grow tired of the bland, soupy baby food around this age and desire a more mature diet. You know, foods that haven't been pureed to the point where you could suck it through a straw.

This evening I gave him one of his new stage three baby food dinners, chicken and country vegetables. It had little chunks of potatoes, carrots, and peas. Yum yum. This was by far the chunkiest food he's had so far; he's had tiny bits of bread, mashed potatoes, mushed fruit, and his snacky finger foods, but he hasn't had anything that's actually had firmer lumps in it large enough to chew or that doesn't just dissolve in your mouth. I figured he'd love this new textured food.

Wrong.

I don't think he quite knew what to do with those chunks. He moved them around his mouth for minutes with a sad look of confusion on his face. Do I swallow? Do I spit it out? Do I chew? I know, I'll GAG! And gag he did. Repeatedly. Until he cried and I gave up. I figured gagging was better than choking, though. Of course, he choked a little, too. But just a little.

So for now, I guess we're sticking with the mushy, but thicker, stuff, like mashed potatoes. He helped me eat these today at lunch and boy, he cannot get enough. He's also become quite the master of his puffs, too, often cramming several in his mouth at a time. We'll try sneaking in chunky food again soon, as I'm sure it's just going to be a matter of him getting used to it and figuring out what to do with those damn lumps.

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Our Little Butt-ler

The condition of the house has really been driving us nuts lately. All of the clutter, dust, cat fur, and dirty laundry piled sky high in the closets was too much for us to tackle on our own. So, we decided to hire some help.

In exchange for food, clothing, toys, and the understanding that we are his live, human jungle gyms, he assists with common household tasks, such as vacuuming and laundry.

Not always, but sometimes, he does insist on performing these duties in the buff. The nudity itself doesn't bother us so much as what can result from the nudity. For instance, while folding this very basket of laundry, Stephen came across a few items that were mysteriously wet in spots. I wonder how that could have happened...?

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Has He Suddenly Decided to Be a Typical Kid?

The past couple of days have not been easy days with Asher. Despite my last post - in which, as usual, I completely jinxed myself - regarding Asher easily drinking all of his bottles since we upgraded his bottle nipples, we are having to fight him to drink his bottles. Yes, we were having to fight him before, but the fight has become even more intense. A little playtime does not make him more open to finishing his beverage. He doesn't just blow raspberries at it anymore. He twists and arches his back and cries and swats the bottle away. UGH. Granted, after some pleading and coaxing, I was able to get him to drink three out of four bottles today, but it was HARD work. I think I lost three years off of my life expectancy just from today's bottle battles.

And, our little guy no longer wants to be a good eater, either. Used to be, he'd eat just about anything. Now he doesn't even want carrots or sweet potatoes or squash, which are his favorite non-fruit foods. I read that this is normal, that kids go through phases in which they're very picky or don't want to eat. One suggestion was to allow Baby to help in the feeding process. I was very apprehensive about this; I knew the mess that would be involved. But, once the crying and the fighting and the swatting of the spoon began, I decided to give it a try. I stripped him down to Diaper Baby, let him stick his fingers in the food and smear it all over the tray and his face, and even let him hold the spoon. All this he did. WHILE CRYING. I finally gave up on the food I wanted him to eat and gave him something I knew he'd eat: fruity yogurt and fruity cereal. I was frustrated he wasn't eating the well-balanced meal I'd thoughtfully prepared, but apparently there's a limit to the amount of carrots you can have flung at you, and then it's just like f**k it, here's some damn yogurt!

There are many, many days in which I feel heartbroken that he's growing so quickly. Today was not one of those days. Today was totally an aren't-you-at-least-ten-yet? day.

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One of the Many Joys of Parenthood

I think we may have fed Asher a little too much food this evening. Really, though, we didn't give him any more than we normally do, but I think he ate more than he normally does. See, we've been having a really hard time getting him to drink his bottles lately. He'll drink a couple of ounces, and then he squirms right out of our arms and wants to play. We'll then let him play for a few minutes, and then try to give him some more bottle, and the cycle repeats. It's a total pain in the ass. The other night, though, it struck me - DUH - maybe the reason he's losing interest in drinking from his bottle is because we're still using the medium flow nipples for 3-6 month old babies. So we switched last night to fast flow nipples and GUESS WHAT? He's finished every one of his bottles since. Miraculous.

This means, though, that he's eating more, and maybe "more" is too much. This evening, we gave him a bottle before we ate dinner, then gave him his solid food dinner after we were finished eating, and then a couple of hours later gave him his nighty-night bottle. I thought to myself as I started feeding him that he probably really didn't need this bottle; after all, it'd only been about three hours since his previous one was polished off and just over an hour since his dinner. But, he was enthusiastically gobbling it up - which he hasn't done in FOREVER - so I figured he somehow must have been hungry.

And then it happened. A sort of gurgling in his throat. I removed the bottle, wondering whether he was trying to cough, and...WOOSH!

Orange sherbet-colored projectile vomit. All over.

Poor little guy only cried for a minute, and then he was all happy and wanted to play again. We put him in the crib and he was content with watching us scrub up his half-digested dinner. It only took AN HOUR, plus a load of laundry (much of the vomit landed on the basket of blankets) and a trip to the dry cleaner tomorrow for the cream-colored chair cushions. I knew we should have paid the extra $30 at IKEA and gotten the chocolate brown, machine washable cushions. But no. Stephen said the off-white, dry-clean-only cushions would be just dandy. Oh Steve. You know what really pissed me off, though? The fact that I Google "cleaning vomit off carpet" and get a bazillion search results back, each one with a different suggestion. This is not helpful. Not only am I spending time Googling, I'm spending time weeding through each instruction, trying to figure out which one sounds the most logical, and, of course, every single one claims to be THE ONLY WAY to effectively remove vomit from carpeting. I finally gave up and grabbed the Resolve carpet cleaner, a bucket of soapy water, some baking soda, and a brush. If that didn't get it out of the fricking carpet, I may have to resort to fire.

It's funny...I had mentioned to Stephen when he went down to make Asher's bottle that, WOW, isn't this nice? Asher was going to be going to bed about an hour earlier than usual! And look what happened. Yet another example of why my mouth should be wired shut.

Anyway, I'm tired, and I smell like puke. I'm throwing the towel in and going to bed.

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One Crazy Bug

Asher has always been a wild man, and his craziness only seems to be getting worse. He's taken to "badgering" almost anything and everything in sight when he gets excited. This can be really cute, but can also be very painful if your face happens to be the chosen target. If you haven't seen this in person, Angela recently caught a good snippet of his badger-like ways on video. On top of his rawr-ing, head shaking, and attempting to fit his entire prey into his mouth, he's now added fart noises to the routine. It's both the most precious and disturbing thing I've ever witnessed.

I took the above picture this evening when he discovered his reflection in the mirror and promptly pounced on and devoured it.

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Asher Finally Meets His Lady

After a long eight and a half months, Asher finally got to meet Emerson yesterday at her first birthday party. The meeting wasn't quite as romantic as the below picture might indicate. It mainly consisted of Asher pulling out Em's pacifier, pawing and grabbing at her, and trying to climb her, with Em trying her best to push him away from her. It was cute, but I'm trying to teach Asher that if he continues to maul his dates, he's not going to get anywhere with them.

On second thought, maybe I should be hoping his badger-like ways continue at least into his mid-twenties.

Here are pictures from Em's big day!

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Fun with Aunt Jamie & Cousin Ella

My sister and niece have gone back to Virginia after having spent nearly three weeks in Indiana at my mom's visiting. It'd only been a couple of months since we'd seen them, but a couple of months is a long time for a baby. I think Asher enjoyed his visits with them more this time than he did back in early June, simply because he's developed so much since then. He is absolutely in awe of Cousin Ella. All of the commotion and chaos of a four year-old girl may drive us old geezers insane, but, to Asher, she is the most mesmerizing and fascinating creature that has ever appeared before his eyes. I think Ella is really happy that he finally pays attention to her, too; after all, she did wait patiently (and I use that term loosely) for nine months for his arrival, only to be greeted by a semi-conscious blob who wouldn't even look at her on command, let alone play with her. It's been fun watching the two of them play together and bond, and I'm sure the next time they visit they'll find even more mischief to make.

Jamie's photos from the zoo (Since I left my memory card at home, I didn't get to take any pictures - thanks for sharing them, Jamie!)

Photos from the Children's Museum (Some of Jamie's photos are mixed in, too.)

Photos from Chuck E. Cheese

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Latest Skills

This picture illustrates the two things Asher does all the time lately: blow raspberries and stand up. He is a constant ball of motion, and if you try to slow him down in any way, he'll show you his dissatisfaction. With lots of spit. It takes a ton of talent to do both at the same time, but Asher's been practicing so much lately that he has it down to a fine art. Notice how he not only can blow raspberries and stand up at the same time, but he can do it one handed. Amazing.

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Eight Months Old

Asher turned eight months old today. I don't want to make the usual, completely obvious statements that I normally make on these monthly updates - you know, "Gosh, I can't believe he's eight months old...it seems like only yesterday I cradled him in my belly...time sure does fly with a baby..." - but it's so hard not to. That's because IT'S TRUE! I think I keep thinking that the more I say it, the more life will want to prove me wrong and then time will suddenly slow down a bit. Unfortunately, I'm afraid this must be the one department of my life I can't seem to jinx. And, unfortunately, I'm really stubborn so I'll probably continue to make these same stupid comments on a daily basis for THE REST OF MY LIFE. And they say I have a hard time with letting go.

Asher has spent the past month keeping us on our toes. LITERALLY. He still mostly army-crawls, but is starting to big-baby crawl, and, either way he moves, HE IS QUICK. I've come close to stepping on him a couple of times because, like most kids, he loves to be underfoot. And the walker? I wouldn't be surprised if Stephen or I end up falling over him before he stops using it - if he's not looking out the window or chasing the cats in it, he uses it to be on our heels in the kitchen. Also, I've learned I really need to wear shoes around the house because that damn thing can hurt when he comes barreling at you in a full baby-run; my toes are going to be permanently deformed if I don't start making better attempts to protect them. He's started to climb the stairs and has, so far, been able to make it up two stairs before either getting frustrated or sliding back down to the bottom. He's pulling himself up on almost anything he can and is starting to make attempts at cruising, too. The other night while Stephen and I were dining at our usual spot - the coffee table in the living room, like all classy people - Asher discovered if he pulls himself up there, he has pretty good access to our dinner plates. Ooh, SQUISHY food, we LOVE squishy! Stephen seemed disappointed when he made the comment that we probably ought to start eating like civilized people in the dining room from now on. All of this plus the fact that he can sit up by himself, I think, has made an increase in his sense of independence. He's always been very active, he and his jimmy legs, but I think he's become even more squirmy and squirrely since he's learned to be more mobile. I try to hold him, but it's hard to because he's constantly trying move. Perhaps he's trying to break some world record of time spent in constant motion?

I know this contradicts the previous paragraph, but a good thing that has happened this month is SLEEP. (And, unlike life, sleep is a department I have a knack of jinxing, so I will word this very carefully.) We went for about a month and a half where he would NOT sleep through the night; many, many nights, poor Stephen would be up almost every hour putting Asher back to sleep. For the past few weeks, though, Asher has been a better sleeper. He still will wake up once or twice for a pacifier reinsertion, and occasionally Stephen will have to rock Asher back to sleep, but, in general, he's been much less maintenance during the night and is staying asleep much better than before. And, he's back to taking naps for Stephen during the day; there for awhile, Stephen seemed to be the only person unable to get Asher to take a nap. The novelty of having Daddy home with him during the day must have finally worn off, so now he's able to let himself let go of Daddy for a bit of sleepy.

We began giving Asher some finger foods this month, too, so he can begin to learn to self-feed. MESSY is an understatement. For some reason, poop isn't as gross when it comes from your own baby, spit-up isn't as gross when it comes from your own baby, but soggy, slimy mush that was once a piece of toast is just as disgusting as it would be from anyone else. I'm really not looking forward to full-fledged self-feeding. At least right now, we can just give him his finger foods in the evening, right before splishy-splash time. Would three baths a day be too ridiculous?

We've found that Asher is becoming more ticklish, which has led to more laughs in the house - and I can't complain about having more laughter around! There is truly nothing sweeter to me than the sound of my little boy laughing, and I often find myself tearing up when I hear it. He's become practically obsessed with the poor kitties, too; if he's not chasing them while crawling, he's chasing them in his walker. Poor Sophie was run over a couple of weeks ago! One good thing about it - they definitely motivate him to crawl all over the place, since they're constantly trying to flee his grasps. No crawling toys have been needed for Asher!

Asher made both his first trip to the zoo and to the museum last week. It's so much fun taking him places now because you can tell he's really interested in what he sees and studies things to try to figure them out. Those two trips have made me really excited about next summer when he's even more capable of enjoying activities like that. In the mean time, his next monthly update will mark month nine (EEK!) and the beginning of Fall. Pumpkin patch trips, first sips of apple cider, playing in pumpkin innards, and trick-or-treating, here we come!

AUGUST PICTURES ARE FINALLY HERE...

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