A Spook-tacular Day

Asher's first Halloween turned out to be a lot of fun, despite having started off on the wrong foot the other evening when we discovered we had a major wardrobe malfunction on our hands with his pumpkin costume. I tried it on him just to make sure it was going to fit, and it didn't, especially in the crotch area. Call me crazy, but I thought it would be slightly inappropriate to let him out in public with his (diapered) crotch hanging out. So, Asher went from being a cute little pumpkin to a cute little bat.

I took the day off so we could spend the day with Mom. Asher and NeeNee played while Stephen and I carved Asher's and Ella's pumpkins (Ella wasn't here, but Mom had bought a pumpkin for her when we went to the pumpkin patch, just in case she'd be visiting). Then NeeNee decided it was time for Asher to have a real treat and gave him a sucker. A BLUE sucker, at that. His face was priceless: his eyes were popping out of his head, he couldn't suck hard enough, and blue drool streamed from his mouth. Next, we went downtown to march in Logansport's Halloween parade. Asher really enjoyed riding in the wagon and staring at all the monsters, princesses, witches, rock stars, and livestock. Asher was one of the 25 kids picked for the best costume contest; he didn't win, but he did get a little treat bag with candy (that mommy and daddy will enjoy for him) and a WHOLE DOLLAR for his bank. I hope he spends it wisely, and not on strippers and booze. Once home, we only took Asher trick-or-treating to one of Mom's neighbors. I supposed we could have taken him around to other houses, but then I thought that would be a little too obvious that we were just using him to get candy for ourselves. Either that, or we'd look like bad parents for letting our ten month old gorge himself on candy.

Asher only had one nap today, so he was an absolute monster for a brief period during dinner and bathtime. The kid threw his first real temper tantrum, complete with screams and kicking! Ugh, I think I got a glimpse of life with a toddler and I'm a little scared, I'll be honest. Thankfully, between bath and bedtime, he was a pleasant, playful little guy. I'm sure he's currently upstairs dreaming of the hot two year old princess he was eyeballing this evening and that delicious, sticky blue sucker.

Me? I'm exhausted, and we didn't even do much. I've been so looking forward to the holiday season, but now that the first, and least stressful, of the holidays has passed, I'm wary of the next two big ones.

Here are pictures!

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All Done

Me and the breast pump? We're through.

A couple of weeks ago, I cut my pumping down to once a day. By last Thursday, I'd only have about half an ounce per day. So, when we left for Chicago on Friday, I decided I wouldn't take the breast pump along and, for the first time, skipped a whole day of pumping. When we got home on Saturday, it was so late and I was so exhausted that I didn't mess with doing it then, either. Sunday night I pumped, and only got about - yep - half an ounce. After three days! I knew then that it was over. I haven't pumped since then and, unless I miraculously become engorged with milk, don't plan on pumping again.

Surprisingly, I don't feel as sad about it as I thought I would. Perhaps that's because I've been slowly producing less and less over the past few months and, in the back of my mind, I knew I wasn't going to be able to keep it up. Perhaps it's because now that I've had a few days sans pumping, I remember the freedom of not having my boobs tied down.

I've gained a lot from breastfeeding, though, and I'd definitely do it all over again. I believe it helped me heal quicker after Asher was born. I believe it kept my hormones under control. It was healthy for my baby. It also made me more comfortable with my body. I never would have thought I'd feel open enough to whip my boobs out in front of my mother-in-law to nurse the baby or write about them on my blog. I'm sure everyone will miss the essays about my boobs, but I'm sure there will come a day at some point in the future that I will be talking about them again, either the next time I'm breastfeeding, or after my awesome DD boob enlargement surgery.

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Life Sure Has Changed Since I Was Ten

Friday, we headed up to Chicago so I could get a much-needed dose of nostalgia with my BFF and so Stephen and Asher could enjoy taking a road trip. I was wary about dragging my ten month-old baby, Mr. Squirmy, along on a three hour car ride, but he surprised me. For 95% of the ride, he was either sleeping or a happy boy. I think it helped that Stephen's parents let us borrow the mini-van so we could more comfortably transport all of our crap and not feel like we were in a sardine can. If I wasn't yearning for a van before, I really am now.

We arrived at the hotel with things seeming to be beyond perfect. We were literally a block away from the Allstate Arena, so Angie and I could just walk over for the concert. There was a Target right next door, which was great considering our tradition of always forgetting to bring something along. When we checked into the hotel, we were upgraded from a suite with a sofa bed to a two-bed, two-bath with a full kitchen. Score! And, as I'd stated in a previous post, Angie won our tickets from a radio station. How much more good luck could we have?

Apparently, not much. We got in the arena to have our tickets scanned, only for them to come up as void in their system. The nice lady nonchalantly told us to go across the street to the box office, where they would reissue them for us. We didn't panic; she was making it sound like this had been a common issue. It was when we got to the box office that we panicked: we were told that the radio station had reported the tickets were lost, so they'd been voided out in their system. AND THAT THEY WERE NO GOOD. After making an angry call to the radio station, Angie decided, dammit, we're GOING to the fucking show! And, not only are we going, but we're sitting on the floor! Her trademark bad luck wasn't going to spoil her night, NOT THIS NIGHT, NOT WITH NKOTB! So, for my early Christmas gift/her share of the hotel cost, and with the hopes that the radio station would compensate her for at least the cost of the tickets she won, she bought both our tickets and off we went again, just a bit more pissed than excited this time.

The show was AWESOME, though. Our seats were great, we were to the left of the stage and only maybe thirty feet away (I made eye contact many times with The Kids, that's how close we were). Natasha Bedingfield opened for them, and she put on a pretty good show. I tell you what, I didn't realize how excited I was for the concert until the New Kids actually came out on stage. Within a snap of the fingers, I was ten again. And I wasn't the only one. The place was packed with screaming, giddy thirty-year-olds. They played all the old hits, with a few of their new songs peppered in. My favorite, of course, was "Please Don't Go Girl," belted out by my love, Joey, but Angie and I also thoroughly enjoyed Jordan's, "Baby I Believe in You," which he sang with his shirt open and next to a wind machine. As Angie would say, it was cheesetastic! They played for about two and a half hours. At the end of the show, I noticed they hadn't sang "Step by Step" or "Hangin' Tough." Sure enough, those were their encores!

At the end of "Hangin' Tough," the tall, dark-haired, gorgeous, skinny bitch a few rows down from us decided to get the band's attention by showing off her boobies. I'm sure she was after a backstage pass and a piece of Donnie's ass. I'll never know if she obtained her goals, but she did get their attention. Joey asked her what took her so long, while the rest of the guys pointed and slapped each other in the shoulders like, huh huh, BOOBS. Me, being in ten-year-old-girl mode, screeched at Angie, OH MY GOD, SHE'S SHOWING HER BOOBS!!! She can't do that! It's not a rock concert, this isn't Poison or Whitesnake or whatever crappy hair band was popular back then! It's funny because the majority of people around us had the same looks on their faces. It kind of cheapened my nostalgic moment, but, on the other hand, if I didn't have deflated mom boobs, maybe I'd have whipped mine out, too. Because, you know, the last time I was listening to "Hangin' Tough," I didn't have boobs. The one thing I really was pissed about, though, was that I didn't bring my camera. I do this at every concert. They say NO PICTURES! And then I get inside and EVERYONE has a damn camera but me. Of course, if I'd brought my camera, I'm sure I'd be the one and only person to have it confiscated. I took a few pictures with my cell phone, but they're absolute crap and basically worthless. I searched online for pictures, but can't find any! Boo!

So, despite Joey and Jordan practically begging Angie and me to come back to the bus with them, we were good girls and declined and were back at the hotel by 11:30. The boys were already in bed, so we stayed up for a few hours talking. You just can't go to a New Kids concert without ending the night with some girl talk with your BFF.

The next day, we did our usual Schaumburg shopping at IKEA and Woodfield Mall, and went to Chevy's for lunch. Asher was a very good boy the whole time, despite running on empty from a lack of napping. We were sad to leave Aunt GieGie so soon, and we were sad that we didn't spend a lick of time downtown, other than driving through to drop Angie off at home. Next time we go up there, maybe in the spring, we'll have to go to a museum or something touristy that we never do.

Long story short, to reference the title of my post, life sure has changed since I was ten, since I was last listening to The New Kids. I was so in love with them back then, I had like a trillion posters on my wall, I had a stuffed animal who I'd pray every night would turn into Jordan Knight. I would have killed to have gone to an NKOTB concert, but I was very young and we were poor. I remember when I was in fourth grade, staying up "late" one night to watch Disney Channel's big airing of one of their concerts. So, if nothing else, going to this concert on Friday was sort of like a gift to the little girl I was twenty years ago. Not to mention, it was great to go back in time with my best friend...I think it made us feel both really young and really old at the same time. Like, wow, twenty years feels like yesterday, but, wow, I'm old enough to know how twenty years feels.

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Marmie's Little Pumpkin Head

Remember Rowan sporting this hat last year? Unfortunately for us, his great aunt made his hat, so I figured it probably wouldn't be passed on to Asher to borrow due to the sentimental value. But, thanks to Marmie, Asher now has one of his very own. She did a damn good job, didn't she? She finished it on Thursday, just in time for him to wear the crap out of it during the week of Halloween and the month of November. He wore it on Saturday while we were visiting Angie in Chicago-land, and he got SO much attention over it. I lost track of how many times people either outwardly complimented us on his hat or we overheard people whispering amongst themselves about how adorable he was in his pumpkin hat. Well, duh.

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TEETH!

Yes, Mr. Chompers #1 now has a friend! It just happened on Thursday. As soon as Stephen and Asher came home in the evening from spending the day at Marmie's, Stephen told me feel Asher's gums. Sure enough, there was Mr. Chompers #2!

This afternoon, while in his usual mealtime trance induced by a trippy episode of Yo Gabba Gabba, I was finally able to open his mouth wide enough to get a quick shot of his pearly whites. We're very excited about his new mouth accessories; however, we're quickly learning that letting him chew on our fingers is no longer a very smart move on our part. We think Asher is a little young to have his first taste of blood.

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A Year Since My Shower

This afternoon, I was filling in the date on some pleadings at work and thought the date looked awfully familiar. It took me a few minutes to figure it out, but I finally realized my baby shower was a year ago today. It seems unbelievable that it's been a year since everyone gathered in celebration of Asher's upcoming arrival and showered us with gifts. To say the year has flown by would be the world's biggest understatement. On the other hand, it feels like that was another lifetime. I know there was life before Asher, but I honestly can't remember what that life was like. Free time? Sleep? Worries that didn't revolve around real scary shit, like your kid dying? I'm not sure I'd be able to function again with all that peace of mind and body.

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Welcome, Mr. Chompers!

It's been a good two to three months since we noticed that Asher's gums were becoming bumpy. And just about every day since then, sometimes multiple times I day, I stick my grubby finger in his mouth to see if any of those bumps have turned into teeth, yet. I'd begun to think that maybe our boy just wasn't going to have any teeth. Maybe we'd have to get little baby dentures for him for Christmas, and Santa could leave a miniature-sized bottle of Efferdent in his stocking.

Alas, our amazing Christmas gift idea has been ruined. Last night on the way home from Marmie and Grandfather's house while Daddy was pumping gas into the car, I thought, what better way to pass the time than to jam my finger in Asher's mouth and explore? Much to my surprise, there was a spot on the left bottom gum that was no longer slimy and bumpy; instead, it was rough and sharp. Mr. Chompers #1 had finally broken through!

Of course, since then, I've only stuck my finger in his mouth about fifty times to feel the top of that tiny tooth. It's like it's the most amazing discovery ever made; I feel like an archeologist who just unearthed the buried ruins of an ancient city. And, as he was distracted by playing with a remote control, I was even able to wrestle his mouth open enough so I could see this wondrous tooth. It's so cute! I wish I could get a picture of it, but the combination of it just barely poking through and his being so squirmy makes that an impossibility. It will quickly grow, though, and then there will be a lifetime of pictures to take of him showing off his teeth.

Which means, this also marks the beginning of the end of his sweet, adorable, toothless baby grins. When you put it that way, it's kind of sad.

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Waving? Flailing?

Here's my first picture of Asher "waving." No one was coming or going, no one was waving at him, so it's unclear whether this was a true wave, but he had his one little arm up, waving like there was no tomorrow. I personally think he was just working on perfecting his politician's wave. The upcoming election is obviously evoking great inspiration in that little mind of his. And just look at that determined face. I'd totally vote for him.

But Asher has waved. Once, at least. It was on Sunday, and we were leaving the restaurant at which we'd just dined with my parents. We'd strapped Asher in his car seat, and NeeNee was standing behind the car trying to entertain him through the rear window. She started waving at him, and he started waving back. It was clearly intentional and not just one of his bouts of crazy flailing.

Of course, he hasn't waved so clearly again since then. Stephen held him up at the door when I was leaving for work one day, and he was trying to get him to wave, and I think he maybe sort of did, but it's questionable. And, like today, he will sometimes start waving for no apparent reason. So, I guess this means he can wave, but doesn't necessarily understand the meaning behind it?

What's really silly is that I'm sitting here dissecting the intentions behind a 9 1/2 month-old's actions. If the boy doesn't grow up thinking he's a rock star, it'll be a miracle.

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Plum Tuckered Out

What a rough night Asher had tonight - he zonked out in the middle of his dessert of vanilla yogurt and an enthralling episode of Yo Gabba Gabba! Poor baby must have been absolutely exhausted. He's been staying up until around 10:00 most nights, but tonight he passed out before 8:30! Not to mention, I don't think he's ever, EVER fallen asleep in his high chair. You know, that horrible, awful contraption we strap him in and shovel food down his mouth. It's pretty shocking that he was relaxed enough to fall asleep in that torture device.

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The Magic is Dwindling

It was just about a year ago that I excitedly posted about the emergence of "my new magical mommy boobs." Shortly after Asher was born, I complained about how sore my boobs were from engorgement, and then, about a month later, I whined about my decision to end nursing and, instead, pump my milk due to Asher's violent eating behavior. A few months after that, when I went back to work, I had to begin supplementing about one bottle of formula a day to keep up with Asher's appetite. He really hated this at first, but it didn't take long for him to get used to it. The ratio of milk to formula has changed dramatically since then. We went from a 3:1 ratio, a 2:2 ratio, and then a 1:3 ratio. Now, I'm only making about 4 ounces of milk a day, so he gets a bottle of milk every other day. And this is with me still pumping four freakin' times a day!

Stressing over my damn milk production is all going to be coming to an end soon, though. I've decided I'm going to step up the weaning process by decreasing my milk extraction to only twice a day. And by weaning, I mean weaning for me. Asher could care less; he really shows no preference at all anymore for my milk over formula. It's really irritating when I've worked for two days to make him a bottle, and then he doesn't finish it. I guess this makes it easier for me to begin the end of breastfeeding, since I know he could give a rat's ass, but still. The boy could show a little appreciation. Ungrateful child!

Of course, just like I did when I stopped nursing and when I had to start feeding Asher formula, I feel a little bit like I've failed in some way. I keep trying to reassure myself, my body is just done, Asher doesn't care, I should be grateful that I'm not going to have to break my baby's heart by taking his mommy's milk away from him and that I won't have to suffer discomfort from engorgement. But, I'm a perfectionist, I had it in my head that I wanted to continue to provide milk for him until at least his first birthday, like all the experts recommend, and now that the realization has hit that I'm probably not going to be able to is killing me. I think I just need to stop reading these books by these so-called "experts;" they only make me feel crazier and more inept. Maybe Britney Spears should write a parenting guide. Then we'd read it and feel like wonderful parents. Like, look, I put my baby in a car seat; I don't drive with my baby in my lap. I've got to be the BEST MOM EVER!

I can't say I'm totally hating the thought of gaining back a little bit of my time and freedom, though. On the other hand, I'm really hating it that we're having to buy formula all the time now. It's expensive! And it's at the store! Like five minutes away! But there is an endless supply...no more stressing out about how many ounces I've got to make before he'll have a full bottle ready for him. Sometimes I think that peace of mind is worth the hundreds of dollars we're spending on formula.

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Baby Conquers Tower of Stairs

I got home from work yesterday, and Stephen excitedly said that something really big had happened that afternoon, something HUGE. My mind immediately started racing. Did Asher take his first steps? Say his first word? Did that tooth finally pop through?

Turns out he climbed the stairs. All of them. All by himself, with no assistance other than Daddy sitting behind him as the spotter. I figured Asher would have mastered this a long time ago, back when he first started to crawl and loved to pull up on the bottom step and even managed to climb a couple. But after a couple of weeks, he totally lost interest in the stairs. When I'd put him on the stairs, he'd just stand there and try to pick up and eat carpet fuzz. I guess yesterday he felt super adventurous and just went for it. Of course, I didn't want to be left in the dark. I put him at the foot of the stairs and, sure enough, he took off like it was his own personal Mount Everest.

Maybe this isn't as monumental as him walking or talking, but in terms of increasing the amount of trouble he can get into, this is HUGE.

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Our House = Giant Toilet

This picture was taken last night while we were doing our typical post-bath Naked Baby wrangling routine, during which Asher becomes even crazier and friskier than usual from the high he gets from being nude. It's usually a good 15-20 minute process, trying to wrestle him to the ground for moisturizing and pajama-ing in between spurts of him flying around the room on his hands and knees.

Asher threw in a little special bonus twist for us last night. Just a couple of minutes before this picture was taken, he piddled all over my hand, the floor, and his diaper as I was beginning to put his diaper on him. While that was being cleaned up and another diaper was being obtained, just after this picture was taken, Asher sat down and started playing with a toy and began grunting. Yep, it was his "POOPIES!" grunt. Luckily, it wasn't much more than a shart, but it was gross enough all the same.

It's funny because yesterday morning, I came downstairs and found kitty poopies on the dining room floor. Pottying outside of the litter box happens very rarely, but every great once in awhile, magical turds will appear on the floor, seeming to have popped up out of nowhere. I don't know if the litter box is occupied when another one of them has to go, and they feel like they can't hold it, or if they just do it to piss us off. My guess is it's to piss us off. All I know is, it's a damn good thing there's three of them so that I don't know who the culprit is.

Anyway, apparently yesterday none of our "children" were potty trained.

A big, huge thanks to Stephen for cleaning up all the poop. It takes a strong man to handle that kind of a crappy task.

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Asher's New Ride

About a month or so ago, our Chicco stroller bit the dust when Stephen ran over it in the garage. It had been collapsed and propped up against some boxes, but, apparently, at some point in the day it had fallen over. When he entered the garage, he didn't notice it and...el snappo. Luckily, I wasn't with him when it happened so I didn't freak out too much...although, it still sucked because it was a fairly expensive stroller that we got for next to nothing thanks to a gift card from my office. But it was an accident, and that's just my luck, so I mostly got over it. Mostly.

So, once again, Stephen has been on the prowl for a good deal on a good stroller. We've been to just about every place in town that sells strollers - which aren't that many. We were unable to find anything we really liked. It seemed like even the more expensive strollers just weren't that great. Everything was either too bulky, too wimpy, too wobbly, or just plain too ugly. Nothing that wasn't $300+ felt very solid and sturdy.

Stephen found some great reviews online for a certain line of Fisher Price strollers that aren't made anymore. Lo and behold, he stumbled across a website, AlbeeBaby.com, that not only had some really good deals, but had some really good deals on those discontinued Fisher Price Strollers. They originally sold for around $150 as travel systems, which is still a good price, but, because AlbeeBaby only bought the strollers and not the car seats, they were selling the strollers for just $35. I was apprehensive, but Stephen told me about the fantastic reviews and about the fact that the strollers are actually manufactured by Britax. In the end, I caved because they were so cheap. I figured I'd end up with a piece of crap no matter what, since I'd hated all the strollers I'd seen up to that point, but, this way, if it turned out to be crap, then at least I bought a cheap piece of crap instead of an expensive piece of crap.

We received the stroller on Saturday. Being a good parent and concerned consumer, I immediately took Asher and his new stroller to Clay Terrace for a little test drive (read: shopping) and - HALLELUJAH, PRAISE THE LORD - I love it! It rides so smoothly with its big wheels and shocks, and it's super light with its aluminum frame. Plus, it collapses with just one hand. Lots of strollers make that claim, but don't seem to live up to it (or I'm just too slow to figure them out). With this one, you press a button and - voila! - down it goes. Most importantly, I think the basket on this stroller is larger than the one on the Chicco. Awesome.

Sometimes, once in a blue moon, you can get something that you didn't pay for. Of course, we haven't even had it for a week, yet. It might fall apart over the weekend. If that happens, Asher is just going to have to suck it up, quit being such a big baby, and learn to walk already because I am DONE with stroller shopping.

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Baby Is Officially Capable of Destruction

I guess Asher truly is a boy at heart, finding great delight in ripping and shredding apart anything he can get his hands on. It's a good thing for him we're such pack rats and have two years worth of old magazines on which he can outlet some of his desire for destruction. Unfortunately, sometimes he likes to practice his new skills on things he shouldn't.

Case in point, the very valuable lesson I learned yesterday evening: turning your back on Baby for even just a matter of seconds while you grab something out of your adjacent closet that's three feet away from him could result in the horrible, tragic loss of all your toilet paper. Luckily, there wasn't much left on that particular roll; I shudder to think of the catastrophe that could have been on my hands had a fresh roll been out. Still...that was some perfectly good toilet paper, all gone down the toilet. Without even being properly used.

I guess the days of being able to leave Asher unattended for a couple of minutes at a time without fear of him getting into anything is all down the toilet, too.

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Nine Months Old

Asher has reached nine months in age, and has now officially been out in the world longer than he was in my tummy.

There really hasn't been a whole lot of "new" developments this month, as he's been spending most of his time perfecting old tricks, but one new trick he has mastered is clapping. He claps when he hears music (such as when he hears the "Hogan's Heroes" theme song - don't ask), he claps when he accomplishes something (such as when he knocks over the tower of blocks Daddy has built), he claps when he's happy (such as when he sees me, of course!), and sometimes he just claps to clap. He's perfected crawling and rarely army-crawls, anymore. His spends a ton of time standing up and taking steps while holding onto furniture or our legs. We're really having to watch our steps these days because if we stand still for even a moment, chances are good Asher will rush over and pounce on our legs. I've almost been knocked to the floor on a couple of occasions. He has learned to arch his back, which can be a real pain in the ass when you're trying to feed him or rock him before bed, and thinks that looking at the world upside down is pretty awesome. His facial expressions are becoming more complex and his babbling has increased; sometimes he even sounds like he's trying to speak in sentences. Slow, drunken pirate sentences, but sentences nonetheless.

Unfortunately, the volume of his voice has also increased. We were in Target the other day and Asher decided he did NOT want to ride in the cart anymore, that our making him sit in the cart was somehow the most brutal form of child abuse and he needed to announce it to the entire store by SCREAMING BLOODY MURDER. Stephen pointed out the fact that, hey, our kid is suddenly turning into that screaming kid we hate encountering out in public. We sure did see that one coming. He seems to be suffering from separation anxiety a little bit more than he ever has before, too. It's not really bad (yet?), but he is definitely more wary of going to people he isn't around on a daily basis and gets upset sometimes when one of us leaves the room. That said, he has also become more clingy this month. He will hug onto us when held and wants to climb on us all the time. I have to admit, I'm enjoying this probably more than I should. Of course I don't want him to throw tantrums every time I leave the room and not be social with other people, and I don't want to feel like I'm chained to him, but it does make you feel pretty special when you're one of his chosen people.

Asher had his nine-month checkup on Monday afternoon and, thankfully, no shots were involved this time, although we're still trying to decide if we want to get him a flu shot. (We probably should and probably will.) He weighed in at 20 pounds, 10 ounces (50th percentile for weight), and measured 29 inches long (75th percentile for height). I talked to his doctor about the sleeping and eating issues, and she just got a big grin and said he's being absolutely normal. She said that babies usually don't sleep soundly through the night. Younger babies can't really move around much and aren't that aware of their surroundings, so they wake up without their parents even knowing it, look around, get bored, and fall back to sleep. Older babies, though, not only are more mobile and aware of their surroundings, but they've also got the separation anxiety factor, too. So, he wakes up, starts playing, realizes he's alone in the dim room, and cries. Why don't the books put it that way? Instead, you get maybe he's got an ear infection, maybe he's teething, maybe he's spoiled, maybe he's sick...and on and on and on. With his eating, she said it's completely normal for his appetite to vary so much from day to day and to QUIT WORRYING ALREADY, he's not going to let himself starve. I don't think she knows how much better she made me feel that day. (And yes, Mom, I know you told me so.) So, he's normal, which is good, but we're obviously moving into a more difficult phase of babyhood...

Bring it on, Asher. BRING IT ON.

Here are Asher's September pictures.

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