Close Enough? Can I Say He's Walking?

Today was not a good day. Stephen was very, very ill, starting at about 3:30 this morning, and I've basically been up since then with him, bringing him drinks, towels, tissues, making three Kroger runs, dragging him to the doctor and to the hospital. Poor Stephen has been poked, prodded, drained of blood, and basically been turned inside out from barfing. (Yum, I know.) We're both exhausted. If we're lucky, he'll get better just in time for me to get sick and we can swap roles. Good times.

Asher, on the other hand, is luckily too little to really understand or be bothered by any of today's events. Granted, he got cranky because he went a little longer than normal without a nap or a real meal, and was at times fidgety because, well, that's just how one year-olds are. But, leave it to a baby to see the silver lining in the clouds. He got to play with different (and nasty, dirty, crusty, probably disease-infested) toys at the doctor's office. He got to see new people. He got to meet new ladies with whom to flirt. Plus, he got to spend a few hours with Marmie and Grandfather once they rescued him away from Frazzled Mommy and Sickly Daddy at the E.R.

Anyway, it was at the doctor's office when he was playing with the scary toys and flirting with the Carmel Soccer Moms that I noticed something peculiar about Asher: he was spending less time on his hands and knees than usual. He was...dare I say, walking! Ok, so it was still only anywhere from 2-10 steps at a time, but it's becoming more frequent. I noticed he's trying to walk. He'll start to get down into his crawling stance, but then he'll hesitate and stand back up and take a step. He's making a conscious effort! He's walking!

It sucked that Stephen was sick today. I can't say I was unhappy about staying home from work today, but it sucked that I had to spend my day off in the hospital. But, the fact that I got to spend some extra time and attention on Asher and really see him putting his new skills into action was really nice.

Man, it seems like just last week that I was all excited because he finally rolled over! Asher, you've come a long way, baby.

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Asher's First Puke Fest

The clingy-ness, it turns out, was probably due to Asher being a sick little bug. He woke up at midnight and we couldn't get him to stay asleep. Finally, we took him in our bed. A little after four this morning, he woke us up by vomiting. We changed the sheets, changed him, changed my clothes, laid him back down, turned the lights off, and he proceeded to vomit again. Another change of sheets, an added towel on the bed (since the mattress cover was off due to the first yak mishap), another change of pajamas for both me and him, and then he threw up again. A call to the dial-a-nurse through our insurance program, another bout of spewing, a breaking of his fever, and he was zonked. Poor baby. He's thrown up a few times since then, but has been puke-free for the past couple of hours. I'm hoping the worst is over and that he'll be able to keep the Pedialyte down and have a little something bland to munch on in a few hours.

This is our first time having to deal with our child being sick with something other than a little cold, and it's scary. I feel awful; I don't know what's hurting him, what would make him feel better, what's best for him. All I know is that he's sick and I want to fix it but I can't! Ugh, I'm dreading the future illnesses, broken bones, scrapes, cuts, bee stings...

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Mr. Clingy

The sale of our house is a week from this Thursday. We aren't for certain the exact date we will be moving, but it's definitely going to be soon. Though I've been packing a box here and a box there for a few months now, there's still at least a bazillion boxes that need to be packed. To be on the safe side, I'm just assuming we'll need to be out by the date of the sale, which means I've been in super-hyper-packing mode this past week. At least the holidays are finally over so I can focus and have fewer things to worry about. And, at least it's the weekend, right? I can get some packing done; getting most of that out of the way would really ease some of my stress. Ah, but Asher, sweet little Asher...he always has different plans in mind. Play with toys? Oh no. He wants to be right under foot, grabbing onto my legs, pleading to be picked up. Or, he wants to play with the electrical cord, crawl up the stairs, throw his toys in the box I'm trying to pack, play in the Christmas tree - you know, anything that causes disruption. Nap? Oh no. It would take a good hour to get him settled down and sleeping, only for him to wake up 30 minutes later, still obviously exhausted and wanting to sleep, but for whatever reason WOULD NOT SLEEP IN HIS CRIB. The only thing that would calm him down was some Tylenol and Mommy spooning him on her bed. Which, I'll admit, I'm not opposed to a nice nap and some snuggle time with my baby, but this is not a good day for taking it easy. I don't know if he's teething, or if he's just not feeling well, or if he's just going through some separation anxiety that his doctor forewarned us he'd probably be going through right now. Whatever it is, he is quite the clingy little bug and he's making it very difficult to get things done. Thankfully, NeeNee and PaPa are coming down tomorrow to baby wrangle so we can focus on stuffing our lives in boxes.

Watch, once we're moved and settled in our new place, he won't want to have anything to do with us.

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Birthday Boy

Since Asher's birthday fell on a Friday, we decided to hold his birthday bash on Saturday, hoping this would be more convenient for people. Some very important people weren't able to make it (Aunt LaLa was too pregnant, Aunt Jamie was too late in booking her train tickets, Uncle Abbo was busy or something, Grammy was in the hospital), which we were very sad about, but in the end I think it was best that there weren't a ton of people there. It ended up being just four grandparents and a handful of friends, including Dawn and her family, Laurie and her family, Tati, Jennifer and her son, and beloved Aunt GieGie. Had many more people been present, I think his head would have exploded from all the excitement.

Unfortunately, Asher has been sick with a cold, and we're pretty certain he's teething, so he was a little out of sorts part of the time. He wouldn't eat, and wouldn't nap UNTIL everyone had arrived, which meant delayed gift opening and cake eating. He was beyond thrilled to see everyone, though, and had the most wonderful time flirting with just about every single person there. Of course, his fascination lied primarily in harassing little Emerson, who clearly did not appreciate his handsy advances and kept telling him "NO!" He was so intrigued with her that, at one point, he took at least ten steps in order to chase after her. We should have known we just needed a cute girl to persuade him to walk.

The best part of the event, of course, was the cake eating. Asher had no clue what to do with the giant white lump I placed in front of him at his highchair. He absolutely refused to try it, so I spent a good five minutes pleading with him to lick the icing off my finger. He responded by sticking his icing-coated fingers in my mouth. Eventually, I was able to get a little bit in his mouth, and he immediately stopped struggling as the pleasure that only cake can bring set in.

All in all, I think he had a great first birthday. Thanks to everyone for helping us celebrate!

Here are photos from the day!

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ONE YEAR OLD

It happened. On January 2, 2009, at 7:42 p.m., Asher turned one year old. There were no fireworks, he did not self-combust, time did not stand still - I didn't even have the tiniest of panic attacks. It was so weird how it was just like any other minute of any other day. I'm not sure why I'd built his turning one into such a huge deal in my mind, bigger than the whole Y2K panic almost ten years ago; maybe it's because it means he's crossing over from babyhood to toddlerhood. I'm really excited about that, but on the other hand, I'm not sure I'm ready to say goodbye to the baby version of Asher, yet. Thank God he's still pooping his pants.

Like last month, this month has been a time of honing his skills. He still isn't walking full-time, yet, though he is practicing. He'll take anywhere from two to six steps before either falling down or giving up and crawling. I would think that within the next couple of weeks he'll be off and walking, but he could easily prove me wrong. He seems pretty content getting around by holding onto things or crawling. I've yet to hear any "real" words come out of his mouth, but he still has plenty to say. I've noticed his jibber-jabbering is starting to include more intonation and structure, and is usually accompanied with intense facial expressions. All I can say is, I think sometimes it's probably a good thing that I can't understand what he's trying to say. Why? Because not only is communication increasing, but so are the TANTRUMS. It is not pretty, and I know it's just going to get worse. I'm praying he doesn't have my temper, but if Mom is right in her philosophy of karma and "what goes around, comes around," I'm in a world of hurt.

Now that he's a year old, we're trying to bump up his lifestyle to be a little less babyish. Yesterday, we turned around the car seat. He seems very happy about this, and I can't say I blame him. It had to be awfully boring staring at the seat of the car all this time, and he had grown to the point where his feet were touching the seat, so I think he was beginning to get cramped in that position. Now that he's facing the front, we can also move the car seat to the middle of the backseat, so I think he'll be safer should we ever be T-boned by another car. I know it's going to sound lame, but I've actually sat in the backseat with him ever since he was born. I got in the habit of doing this when he was a newborn so that if he got fussy I could console him, and I guess I just never grew out of it. With him facing front, I am now moving myself back up to the passenger seat of the car - hallelujah! I figure if he can face the front, he can see us and outside the car, and that should keep him entertained. If not, well, buddy, join the club. Riding in the car can just be boring, you'll have to get used to it.

One year also marks the point in which we can switch him off formula and on to whole milk. I'm really not concerned with this too much; getting him to sit still and drink a bottle has been an on-again, off-again battle for months now. I don't think he'll miss it much, but I don't feel comfortable just yanking him off of it cold turkey. This is probably more for my comfort level than his; after all, eliminating bottle time is pretty disruptive to the schedule we've been following for months and months. Mommy and Daddy need time to establish and grow comfortable with a new routine. So, he was getting four bottles a day; now he's down to three. Over the next month or two, we'll just keep cutting down bottles until there are none left. Asher will probably be thrilled.

His one-year appointment with Dr. Timmons is tomorrow afternoon. I'm looking forward to seeing what his weight and height are up to, and finding out how he's developing in comparison to her standards. Unfortunately, he is due for some blasted vaccinations. He hasn't received any since his six-month appointment, so I'm pretty scared to witness his reaction to the shots now that he's older. I'm sure he'll be the best little trooper; it's just Mommy who's the big baby about such things.

Happy birthday, my little Asher Bug. This year has been crazy and turned upside-down in so many different ways, but I can honestly say that, because of you, it's been the best year of my life. You have made me a better person and have shown me what's truly important in life. You have my heart wrapped around that little finger of yours, and I wouldn't have it any other way. I am so looking forward to your second year and watching you blossom even more into a handsome little boy.

(December photos)

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Our First Family Christmas

We went to Mom's on Christmas Eve, just in time to make it to the fabulous Logansport Mall to visit Santa Claus. Asher didn't throw a fit, but was definitely very wary of the WORST LOOKING SANTA EVER. I didn't blame him. Santa was nice, but he was a bit on the creepy-looking side. That evening, we found a big sack hanging outside the house that Mrs. Santa Claus had left for Asher. There was a Christmas book, a teddy bear, some bath toys, a Thomas the Tank robe, and a pair of Brobee pajamas inside. Asher was less than thrilled; I think he was onto Mrs. Claus' game of trying to get little kids in bed so her husband could get to work and be home at a decent time.

Christmas Day began around 9:30 when Asher awoke. He hardly seemed to notice the moutain of gifts around the tree. Opening his gifts ended up being an all-day affair. As everyone had forewarned, Asher was not very interested in his gifts. He instead wanted to play with the cat toys, the bottles of lotion and bath stuff I received, the wrapping paper, and the tree. Now that we are home, however, he is fully aware of all his new toys and seems to really enjoy them. Some of his favorite gifts included a Radio Flyer car, a 2-sided activity table, an alphabet train sit-to-stand toy, a caterpillar rocker, a MegaBloks tow truck, a helicopter toy, toy cars, a toy train, and a Plex Buggy. He's also enjoying having his new books read to him. He got a mountain of clothes - due mostly to good timing because he has outgrown many of his current 12-month clothes - but, like most boys, he paid zero attention to them.

It was great getting to spend Christmas with Mom and Bob, especially since this might be the last year we travel, because we would like to start Christmas traditions for Asher at home. What made the day even more special was that Adam came over and spent the day with us. Asher may not have been mature enough to enjoy his first Christmas, but we certainly did. Even if I did snap at Stephen a few times for not being attentive enough.

Here are some pictures!

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Baby Loves Tacky

My mother-in-law knows how much I love nutcrackers and that they're one of the few things I collect, so every year she finds one or two for me. Last year, she bought me an enormous nutcracker that's probably as tall as Asher is. This year, she gave me the nutcracker on the counter in the above photo. It lights up and plays music - really, really shrill music. While the cats scampered away with bleeding ears, Asher stood and gazed up at it, completely mesmerized. Then he began bouncing and clapping to it, all with a huge, cheesy grin on his face. The nutcracker isn't tacky - it isn't plush and doesn't dance around - but it does illustrate Asher's love of all that is obnoxious. And, I finally understand why those darn animated toys actually sell. KIDS LOVE THEM. I always wondered who the hell in their right mind would buy a Big Mouth Billy Bass, but now I know: parents. And I also now know that parents aren't in their right minds. For some crazy reason, we love to see our kids happy and entertained. And if that means buying them stupid plush turkeys that gobble, walk, and sing "Turkey in the Straw," so be it. I'm a little ashamed to say it, but if I find any singing reindeer or dancing Santas on clearance after Christmas, I will probably reluctantly buy them. I never, EVER would have thought I'd actually own such monstrosities, but...the things we do for our children.

And, Maryann, I do love my new nutcracker, don't get me wrong. I just love it the most when it's turned off. Unfortunately, Asher looks awfully cute shaking his poofy diapered butt to the screeching music it plays, so I'm sure we'll be replacing the batteries in it constantly, as it will definitely get a ton of use. Thank you!

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Marmie's Christmas Tree Hat

Asher is an awfully lucky little boy to have Marmie in his life to make such painfully cute hats for him. The pumpkin hat was so awesome that it broke my heart to pack it away, but what could I do? Harvest season is over! Thankfully, Marmie came to the rescue and made him another hat, this one for Christmas. As you can see, it's a Christmas tree hat, complete with a yellow "star" at the top, button ornaments, and button toys "under" the tree. Unfortunately, it was just completed a couple of days ago, so we don't have much time before Christmas to show it off. But, I'm thinking it's so darling that it can stay out until we put the real Christmas tree away. And knowing me, that'll be mid-March.

Thank you so much, Maryann! I'm already looking forward to your next creation.

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Could He Be Developing an Attention Span?

Today, Asher has been a very busy boy. He played with his counting turtle, his musical popping ball train, his cars, and even did a little rearranging of his kitchen junk drawer.

In other words, he entertained himself.

No, I'm not kidding - he played, pretty much by himself, all morning and afternoon. He let me eat breakfast, he let me eat lunch, he let me watch a tiny bit of television, he let me feed the cats, he let me make his meals, he let me vacuum - all without fussing and being underfoot or begging to be picked up. And, he played with toys. For more than two minutes! He pushed around his turtle for a good twenty minutes, and when he was done with that, he played with his choo choo for another twenty minutes. Toys! Playing with them! Crazy!

So see? Asher does need toys for Christmas, Stephen.

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Look, Everyone - No Hands!

I was finally able to capture on camera the awesome new skill Asher is working on - standing without support. It's all a matter of being at the right place at the right time, but having a toy (or, in this case, a telephone) in hand with which to bribe your child to do what you want helps, too. He's been standing like this a lot today. And, notice there isn't anything around for him to hold onto - he got into a standing position without having to climb up anything. He took another itty-bitty step, too. He's trying! I'm thinking maybe he wants to walk for Christmas. That would definitely be a fun gift for Mommy and Daddy, too.

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Buggy Obsession

Some kids have teddies, some kids have blankies. I, myself, had a "silkie," which was my mom's pink satin robe that I used to like to snuggle while sucking my thumb. My son? He has buggies, which, as you probably know, is our term for pacifiers.

Yes, he sucks on them, but his love for them is deeper than mere oral gratification. Over the past couple of months, he started doing this thing when he goes to sleep where he plays with his spare buggies. He's got a good handful of them in his crib. When we lay him down at night when he's almost asleep, he rolls over, stretches his little fingers out, and grasps one or two buggies. Then he clanks them together and moves them around in his hands until he falls asleep. When we go in his room after he awakes, he's always standing at the side of the crib with a buggy in his mouth and one in each hand. He'll carry them around with him. A new thing he's started doing is organizing his buggies. I put five or six on the floor the other day when changing the sheets in his crib, and he started putting them in a row and changing the order of them. It's both the cutest and the strangest thing I've seen him do.

I've always put him to bed with his little stuffed Classic Pooh from Sloan, the froggie blankie from Aunt Jamie, the super soft blankie from Uncle Adam, and the fluffy puppy from NeeNee, but does he even notice any of those things? Nope. I guess you really can't choose what your kid becomes attached to. I'll need to remember this when Asher starts dating.

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Busy, Busy, Busy

It seems like each of us have been preoccupied with our own things over the past week. I've come down with a rare case of motivation and have started about fifty tasks, from laundry to Asher's birthday invitations to decorating for Christmas to wrapping presents to completing Christmas cards to working on party decorations, to name just a few. I was really proud of myself; I actually finished a project yesterday when I addressed the last invitation to Asher's birthday party. Of course, I forgot to take them to work with me today to mail out...Argh. Stephen has picked up quite a few more hours' worth of work for the next month; in fact, it's almost 10:00 right now and he's out working. Asher is just his usual busy little self, which keeps Stephen and I plenty busy just keeping an eye out for him. Seriously, you turn your back for two seconds to gather his dirty clothes, and when you turn around he's got a piece of his own poop in his mouth. Yeah, POOP. In his MOUTH. And there isn't a hint of a look of disgust on his face. (For those wondering, he'd had some tiny, cocoa-puff-sized poopies in his diaper yesterday and one of those "puffs" apparently fell out of the diaper when I wrapped it up and, of course, he found it. Did I mention it was with his mouth?) On a less disgusting note, one new thing Asher is busying himself with is trying to walk. Last night he took an itsy-bitsy step in the bathroom. I'd hardly classify it as walking, but it's definite progress. Today I've noticed he's been holding onto things less and standing on his own more, so I think he's motivated to get the ball rolling. I don't know whether to be excited or petrified.

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Eleven Months Old

Well, here we are. The last month before Asher turns a year old. All this time, I've been complaining about how quickly the time has flown, but suddenly, within the past couple of weeks, it's felt as if time has slowed up a bit. I find myself feeling like, you mean, it hasn't been a year, yet? Surely, it's been at least three? I don't know why the sudden change of perception. Maybe it's due to the fact that Asher is now all over the place and into everything constantly and we're so tired and worn out from it that the days feel like they're 48 hours long. Maybe it's because our days have become so much less monotonous and redundant as Asher matures. I have actually been able to differentiate between days lately, it's amazing! Whatever the reason, I'm thankful for it. It's horrible to feel like you're being robbed of time. I'm sure that feeling will come back soon enough, but for now, it's nice to feel like it's completely possible that Asher is, in fact, eleven months old.

Nothing new and exciting has happened over the past month. No walking, yet; though, he has begun to briefly let go of things while standing to practice his balancing skills. They aren't very good right now, but I have a feeling that pretty soon he'll be able to stand on his own two feet without support like a pro. He's starting to "dance" a lot lately, bopping his head and bouncing up and down. His language skills are increasing, too; no "real" first words, yet, but he's getting there. He's catching onto the meaning of words. If I say, "Look, there's Sammy Cat," he will typically turn to look and find the kitty. He's beginning to appropriately refer to us by mama and dada...sort of. Usually, when he's upset and crying, he'll cry out "mamamamama." The rest of his day, he'll spend jibber-jabbering all about dadadadadada. He also is starting to refer to his bottle as "ba-da;" I've caught him saying this a few times either when taking him upstairs with his bottle to drink it, or when I've asked him if he's ready for a bottle. There was also something else the other day he was referring to repeatedly by saying "ba-ga" - I think it was his buggy (pacifier), but can't really recall for certain. Anyway, he's becoming very vocal, including ways other than his cute gabbing. He's apparently into SHRIEKING like a banshee, SQUEALING like a little girl, and SCREAMING like four cats fighting when he wants to let us (and everyone within a mile radius from us) know that he is NOT happy. Luckily, it's been brief so far, but we've had glimpses of being "those" people - the people you don't want to be seated next to at a restaurant, the ones who look like they've had every ounce of their dignity beaten out of them while their rugrat screeches bloody murder.

We've started introducing Asher to whole milk this month. The doctor recommended that we not put him on milk "full-time" until after his first birthday, but that it was alright to give it to him every now and then. We're trying, trying, to keep him on formula, but most of the time these days he wants nothing to do with the stuff. When he's only drinking about 12 ounces of formula a day, I figure he needs something else. So, milk it is. And speaking of drinking, he has mastered drinking from a straw this month. He drinks from a straw better than he drinks from a sippy cup. This doesn't surprise me, though; I've tried using those sippy cups, and they're hard to use! I don't think even the suction of our Dyson vacuum could get more than a few droplets out of those darn things.

Asher's first Thanksgiving was very nice, which makes me even more excited about his first Christmas in just a few weeks. I've been buying and wrapping presents like crazy. I know I'm driving Stephen nuts, dragging him through the toy aisles every place we go. But that's okay because he drives me nuts with his rants about how much he hates toys, and how he's ALWAYS hated toys, even when he was a kid, and how they're a waste of money. Can we say bah humbug much? I haven't decided whether or not to put up the Christmas tree...I really, really want to, but with all of the packing and cleaning I've been trying to do in preparation of moving, and with the certainty that it will be nearly impossible to keep Asher out of the tree, I'm not sure it's a good idea. I can just see him swallowing an ornament hook or crushing a fallen glass ornament in his hands.

As crazy as it sounds, in just one month I'll be posting his one year post. I guess I should probably get my butt in gear and get his party planned, along with getting my Christmas cards out, the Christmas shopping completed, his birthday shopping completed, presents wrapped...What the hell was I thinking, again, arranging to have his birth be just a week after Christmas? I could have birthed a ten-pounder...at least that would have only been a one-time pain in the ass, instead of an annual one.

Here are Asher's November pictures.

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New Template

Stephen thinks I need to address the fact that I changed the template of the blog. So...

I decided to change the template of the blog. I was tired of looking at the polka dots; they were making me dizzy.

I hope you like the facelift. It's a little cutesy, but I thought in a good way. The little bird makes me feel cheery, and it's rare that I find something that doesn't cost over $100 that makes me feel cheery.

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The New Playroom

Screw toys...it's all about getting into Mommy's and Daddy's things lately. Ever since I gave him free reign to explore my bathroom, he's developed a thirst for discovering where everything in the house is kept. And then he wants to completely trash it. Occasionally, he'll be good and try to put things away, but this often results in things like teddy bears in the dryer, or deodorant in my hair products container. AND WE JUST CAN'T HAVE THAT. Oh, the chaos.

Over the past week, his new fascination lies in the kitchen. We were smart and put baby locks on the cabinets under the sink, but we didn't think about the cabinet with the cat food...and the cat food dishes. WHICH ARE GLASS, I might add. And, yes, he's broken one already. Luckily, there were no ouchies this time, but we definitely need to do a thorough re-organization, or just a simple lockdown, of certain spaces. He does have a "safe" drawer, which is overflowing with measuring cups, ice cream scoops, tongs, and whisks, and he seems to thoroughly enjoy carefully taking each item out, cautiously examining it, and then THROWING it down on the floor as hard as he can. This weekend, he also discovered the lazy susan in which the pots and pans reside. Let's just say he has a little too much fun clanking these around. I have a bruised toe to prove it.

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Turkey Day

We were originally supposed to spend Thanksgiving with Stephen's parents, but due to special circumstances (my sister missing her train on Sunday and having to come in at 5 a.m. Thanksgiving morning, and my mother-in-law's crazy work schedule requiring her to be at work at 2 a.m. on Black Friday), we ended up spending it at my mom's. This meant I got to spend the day visiting with my sister and Ella, whom I hadn't seen in almost three months, visiting with Angie and her mom for a couple of hours, and gorging myself on Mom's infamous candied yams, deviled eggs, and green beans (cooked with onions and bacon). Sadly, there was no ham, but I'm hoping Santa will make me one for Christmas.

This Thanksgiving was an especially special one, considering it was Asher's first. He had THE BEST TIME EVER playing with Ella and getting underfoot in the kitchen. At one point, he got so excited he plunged into the cat food dishes, which required an early bath and change into pajamas before dinner. He enjoyed Puffs, corn, mashed potatoes, and part of a dinner roll for dinner. He can't wait until next year when he can enjoy some turkey, too. Just look at how excited he is.

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Dr. Smarty Pants & Mrs. Maternity Pants

This is a really exciting time for the Squinkors. Jeff graduated on Saturday morning, finally earning his Ph.D. after what I've heard was a lot of hard work. We were luckily able to be there and share the big day with them, as the graduation just happened to fall on a rare Saturday on which Stephen didn't have to work. Sadly, I didn't get to see Jeff walk across the stage to receive his diploma because I was in the middle of changing Asher's false alarm diaper, but I did hear his name over the loudspeaker, so I didn't totally miss it. After the ceremony, they hosted a very nice party in honor of Jeff in which we drank wine, ate lots of Italian food, and enjoyed many delicious desserts. Asher was such a good boy the whole time, and even took a 2 1/2 hour nap in the bedroom directly above the commotion of the party. It was an all-around amazing day.

If that's not exciting enough, they're expecting their baby girl (you know, MY NIECE) in just two short months. Angela claims to have gained a lot of weight during this pregnancy, but I hate to tell her, she's crazy if she thinks she's looks anything less than great. Well, you know, except for that stomach of hers. It is getting a little rotund. (This is coming from the girl who looked like this a year ago, with only a couple weeks difference between our due dates.)

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Holy Crap, She's FIVE!

I don't know how it possibly happened, but it did. Ella is now a KID. Just when I finally quit thinking of her as a little baby and came to grips with her being a toddler, she went and turned FIVE. What's next, Ella? Adolescence? Puberty? Dating? DRIVING?!

My sister sent me a bunch of photos from the past few days, and I'm absolutely shocked at how her appearance is changing. I just saw her three months ago, and I swear she looks so much more mature since then...less cute and more pretty.

I'll be honest, it's been a bittersweet year. We gained Asher, which obviously was the most wonderful thing ever, but I feel a little like we've lost Ella. She moved away to Virginia with her mom early this year, so we went from seeing her every couple of weeks (or more) to seeing her every few months. Kids grow up so darn quickly, so three months seem like a year. Not to mention, before Asher, Ella was the apple of my eye. Don't get me wrong, she still is, but I just haven't been able to focus on her or pay her as much attention as I did before Asher was born. I don't know if she's even noticed that, or not, but I feel guilty about it sometimes. I miss the closeness I felt a year ago with little Ella Bella. So...this must be a little tiny taste of the mixed feelings you get when having a second child?

Luckily, I will get a much-needed Ella fix in just a few days when she comes in to town for Thanksgiving with her mom. I'm so excited to see her, and I know Asher is going to be in heaven visiting with her. I just hope I'll be able to recognize her when she gets here.

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Refrigerator Monkey

Does this picture look familiar? It should. Just over a year ago, I posted this same picture, with the major exception being that there was a gray and white kitty in place of this little boy. How things both have and haven't changed since then. I see the staples of our diets are largely the same: bottled water, pickles, parmesan cheese, taco sauce, and chocolate syrup. Ah, it's fun to be predictable.

This picture pretty much sums up our time these days: chasing after a very curious and very energetic little boy who's into EVERYTHING. While home with him over the weekend when Stephen was at work, I was amazed at how fast he's become. I know I'm always saying he's fast, but I swear the minute I say it, he becomes even FASTER. For instance, I plopped him down on the kitchen floor to play while I made his lunch. Thirty seconds passed and I realized Asher was no longer in the kitchen. I peeked my head into the dining room - no baby. Where could he have been? Oh, he was only about four or five steps up the staircase. And when he saw me? He giggled and sped up. Our baby gate won't fit the bottom of the staircase, so we try to put a box in front of the steps. And wouldn't you know it, he just pushes the box over enough to squeeze past it. Yeah, and speaking of boxes, someone has figured out he can climb on top of them to get to things. FUN things he's not supposed to get into.

Asher is getting very close to walking, too. He is starting to stand without support. I'm trying not to think about all the trouble he's going to get into once he's up and running...I'll have at least a good twenty years to worry about that.

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Temper Tantrums? Not THIS Guy!

Just as I received weekly e-mail updates when I was pregnant, I also receive weekly baby e-mail updates. Every week, I'm shocked at how on par they are. Like, seriously, do they have surveillance on us? This evening, I received my 45 week e-mail, and it stated that Baby is entering the age of the temper tantrum. NO WAY! All that screaming and kicking and flailing Asher has been doing lately when he doesn't get his way, you mean that's not just his little happy dance? I'll be honest, I was a bit relieved. I've been worried that maybe we've got a spoiled brat on our hands, for surely it's too early for him to be legitimately throwing temper tantrums. Alas, I guess this new pain in the ass attitude is normal. Did I just say "pain in the ass?" Oops. I meant to say "independent."

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Getting in Touch with His Feminine Side

Well, I tried to clean out from under my bathroom sinks tonight. I tried. Actually, I did manage to get rid of several years' worth of expired medications, discolored lotions, emery boards that had lost their roughness, crusty makeup, dried-out lipsticks, and other assorted unnecessary "necessities" that I, for some strange reason, thought I shouldn't part with before this evening. I did this while Stephen was fixing a hearty chili dinner, so I had to entertain Asher at the same time. My idea of entertainment for him was to give him full access to investigate/play with/destroy every single girlie product I own. Tampons, maxi-pads, hot oil treatment, shower gel, make-up brushes, hair products, shaving cream - it was all at his fingertips. Surprisingly, Asher thought this was the most fascinating and exciting thing EVER. I probably could have worked in there for two hours and I don't think he would have gotten bored.

My cabinets are now clean and clutter-free, but that could be because my hundreds of tampons are currently strewn all over my bedroom and bathroom floors. Leave it to Asher to not put away his toys after he's finished playing with them.

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And So The Injuries Will Begin

Nothing major, thankfully, but Asher has had a sudden onset of boo-boos over the past few days. He fell over on his face at Marmie's on Friday, which apparently resulted in a bloody mouth. We never did figure out if it was his lip, cheek, or tongue that was hurt, but whatever it was, it must not have been too bad since he never complained about it after the fact. Sunday began with a bang when Asher was in the process of waking Daddy up in bed and decided to plunge head-first off the side of the bed onto the floor. The little booger darted so quickly that I had no chance to do anything but yelp out and grasp at the air. The acrobatics seemed to startle him (duh) and probably hurt his noggin a little, but he appeared to be fine after a minute. I, on the other hand, got to experience my first heart attack. Later in the day, while playing, he trapped himself between my nightstand and the bed, and managed to clobber his eye on the corner of the table. If you look at the picture above carefully, you can see the area around his left eye is a little red. We were concerned he would get a full-fledged black eye, and that we would have to spend the next few days darting judgmental glares from people out in public, but, luckily, it never came to that.

Nothing major, as I said, but the point is, it's beginning. A whole new set of worries. A different kind of worries. He's not even walking, yet, but he's into everything. EVERYTHING...Not to mention, he's a little daredevil and doesn't seem to be afraid of a darn thing. And it's up to us to keep up with him and protect him from himself. Like a couple of weeks ago when Asher found a piece of iron somewhere in the house and had it stashed away in his mouth. Thank God Stephen noticed the cat-with-a-bird-in-its-mouth look on his face. We have no clue what the iron was from, let alone where he found it. But he did. And he tried to eat it.

Laurie said it best a few days ago, something to the effect of: Don't worry, Kim, I'm sure after the first ER trip the rest will be a breeze. Very comforting, thanks.

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The End of Fall Already?

Okay, so maybe I'm jumping the gun a little bit, considering the fact that Winter technically begins at the end of December. But, in my mind, once the leaves have fallen from the trees, once the temperatures plummet below fifty degrees for good for the season, once Thanksgiving has passed and the stores begin to play Christmas music, Winter has arrived.

Well, the leaves have begun to fall. In fact, all of the trees in the parking lot of my office building are bare already. The temperatures have been stellar (in the 60s & 70s) for almost a week now, but they're supposed to drop to the 40s & 50s in the next couple of days. I hadn't realized until this evening while talking to Stephen that Thanksgiving is just in a few short weeks. Tonight, I also gathered up all of Asher's Halloween apparel to be packed away and it occurred to me that it's just about time to start getting out his Christmas attire.

Yep, Winter is just around the corner.

I love the Christmas season, don't get me wrong - it's my favorite time of year - but, good grief, where has this year gone? Shouldn't it just now be about mid-July? Not to mention, I'm not quite ready to whip out my winter coat. And, Asher doesn't even have a winter coat, yet; just a winter jacket, but no toasty coat or snow suit or boots. And then there's Christmas shopping! And birthday shopping! What was I thinking, having Asher a WEEK after Christmas?! I'm so unprepared.

Oh, and thank you so much, end of Daylight Savings Time. In the morning, I go to work thinking it's the beginning of August because it's so bright out, but in the evening it feels like January, it gets so dark so early. Like my mind needed any more screwing with.

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Ten Months Old

Today not only marks the end of Daylight Savings Time, but also is Asher's ten-month birthday. Unfortunately for us, Asher did not want to use his extra hour for sleeping. Instead, he invested his extra hour into exploration, which seems to be the main focus of his time and attention these days. It's amazing to me how curious he is, and the amount of determination he has to figure things out. As exhausting as it is on us, the parents, I love it that he's so fascinated with the world and people around him. I just hope that, as he gets older and more mobile and more independent, he uses his endless amount of curiousity for good and not for evil.

It's been a very busy month for Asher Bug. For starters, he grew some teeth! Only two little chompers currently reside in the bottom of his mouth, but we think he may sprout some more in the not-too-distant-future, since he's been cranky lately and constantly chewing on his fingers or buggies or anything else that's remotely squishy. Because of this, we've slowly begun giving him more and more table foods to get him used to eating like a big boy. We're trying to get him trained on drinking from a cup, too. It's pretty messy, and a lot of coughing is involved, but he's getting pretty good at it. Asher is also still perfecting his waving skills. The meaning behind the waving isn't totally there, yet, but he's working on it. He took his first fairly lengthy road trip and surprised us by being in good spirits most of the time. He also had his first Halloween, complete with a bat costume, parade, and a lollipop.

Asher's memory and comprehension has started to notably increase this month, too. He is figuring out cause and effect. He seems to understand more words. He tries to imitate sounds. I'm totally sure this is all a sign that he takes after Dr. Uncle Jeff in the smarty-pants department.

I've begun thinking about planning Asher's first birthday party a little bit, but don't want to think about it too much because then I have to come to terms with the fact that, in just two short months, Asher will be turning a whole year old. That just isn't even possible.

Here are his pictures for October.

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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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