beanski

nineteen-and-a-half and thirty-six months

I spend approximately 97% of my time lecturing my children about the importance of sharing so it is fitting that their poor, deprived little selves will have to now share my monthly ramblings about their awesomeness.

The injustice!

Guess what, lovies? Mommy doesn't have time to do them separate because she is too busy refereeing and keeping track of who took which toy from who first. THIS IS ALL YOUR FAULT. LEARN TO SHARE.

I buy two of everything and guess what? IT DOESN'T MATTER. Cameron got his own Zhu Zhu pet for RENEE'S BIRTHDAY for the love of all things holy and they are still fighting about them. STILL.

Now that I got that off my chest I really do like the little turkeys and I really do want to take the time to write down the funny things they do and say so that I remember something from this time in my life other than PLEASE STOP BITING YOUR SISTER and PLEASE GIVE HIM BACK HIS BALL RIGHT THIS INSTANT.

You know it's bad when the first words out of Renee's mouth when Cam so much as looks at the toy she is holding is "You can't take this or you're going STRAIGHT to time-out." I reckon they've heard that a few times. I should just buy a tape recorder.

They are best when they are on the go. We can actually do things like go to the zoo and travel for their cousin's birthday parties without upsetting the delicate balance of the universe too much. C-Man still has some adjustment issues when we get home from a busy trip and generally gets up about 19 times a night after we get home just to make sure that things are still cool on the home-front but for the most part it is getting to the point where it's actually fun to leave the house. This is the first time in 3 years  that I can actually say that with a straight face.

We've been all over the state in the last month or so and they have been pretty much melt-down free. We spent all of Father's day out in the yard splashing in the pool and playing on the playground and they had a great time. They were dumping water on each other and laughing. And then crying because Renee dumped water on me! But I did it to her first! But I'm still crying!

They generally both nap in the afternoon so by the time I get one down and then the other I have about 15 minutes to clean the kitchen before the one I put to sleep first wakes back up and is ready to party. What that equates to is from 6AM when Cam starts talking to 9:30PM when Renee gives up her stall tactics and FINALLY just closes her blessed eyes and goes to sleep, I have a sidekick. Either it's Renee who wants to "help" me bake and clean and do laundry (she doesn't follow recipes yet though so my banana bread last night was pretty moist. READ: MUSHY) or Cameron who is screaming and throwing his body around trying to reach some object that is off limits to him, I have one of them at my side at ALL MOMENTS OF MY LIFE. One of these days I'm going to take a pee in private and it is going to be WONDERFUL.

Cameron went back to the allergist where we learned that either the egg allergy has gotten worse or that it was more severe than we had thought initially. We've been on a strict no egg diet (I used to slip him a bite of a cookie here or there because I feel bad for him). The allergist said that he shouldn't have any of it ever and that I am probably making the allergy worse by giving it to him. It sucks to try to travel and feed him not knowing what has eggs and what doesn't. I pretty much have to pack everything for him. I also had yet another wave of guilt after the appointment about how miserable he must have been that first year and how many signs I missed in not getting the allergy diagnosed sooner. I failed him. My poor little baby and his upset belly.

Renee started a new preschool this month. She never liked the last preschool and would FLIP OUT every day when we dropped her off. The final straw for me was going to conferences and having her teacher tell me that she hasn't communicated other than a head nod or shake in SIX MONTHS. It told us that she didn't feel safe there and that they weren't spending any time with her. So we pulled her. The new school is a totally different atmosphere. They do a ton of field trips and take the city bus to the pool once a week and while I have some anxiety about my baby on a city bus (okay, I have a LOT of anxiety about it), I think it will be good for her. She seems to like the action. She has her whole life to learn sign language and the days of the week, I say take her to the park and let her run around like a crazy person all day. Her little boyfriend from daycare, the boy who she insists on sitting next to at the lunch table, is going to the same school too so she was pleased about that. I'm not sure the love affair is mutual but I do know that Renee has her first crush. She talks about him all the time :)

Nena and Grumpa gave us their piano a few weeks ago and it has been so magical to watch the kids sit on the bench that their dad learned to play on and slam on the keys. Nothing makes me happier than getting out of the shower and hearing piano music drifting up the stairs. There is so much history that came with that 30 year old piano, we are truly blessed that our kids will get a chance to learn music on it like their dad did.

Cameron really likes BIG TRUCKS! DIGGERS! MOTOR GRADERS! AIRPLANES! and he calls them out to me as we're driving down the road. It makes me smile. He also tries to get the attention of other people driving on the road and when he makes eye contact he always smiles and says "HI!" He is the polar opposite of her. She would glare at anyone that had the audacity to look at her and he's running over to complete strangers saying "HI!!" He still won't get over his fascination with the drawers and cupboards that have childproof locks on them and he stands at them shaking them with all of his weight trying to get at the scissors. Mom, those scissors are the coolest thing EVER. I want to cut my tongue off! Give them to me RIGHT NOW!

Renee refuses to get over her Dora obsession regardless of how many other TV shows I try to brainwash her with. I'm so sick of Dora that I could puke. The other day she said to me "Mom, I'm back on the Dora wagon." And then she asked for more milk and said "I'm back on the milk wagon too." I just about died laughing. She won't read any book that doesn't have a ballerina in it and spends most of her days talking about princesses and ballerinas and I have no idea where this nonsense comes from. I was a total tomboy and never took a ballet class in my life and when I ask her if we should get her signed up for swimming class she flips out and says "NOOOOO, I want to go to ballet class." Shoot me now, please. And then after I'm dead we'll be off to ballet class because what princess wants, princess usually gets. Princess also refuses to drink out of cups that aren't pink or eat food off of plates that aren't pink. PINK, PINK, PINK. She'll even say "I want the pinkie one" like PINKIE is a term of endearment. Oh you pretty, pretty pinkie, I love you so.

They are a fun bunch and I can't imagine a single day with without them in it. Wait, I can sort of imagine it. I would lay on the couch and eat cereal for dinner and not even once would have to scrub the floor from the mess they made to stop the ants from taking over the house and after I got done laying down for a few hours eating whatever I want, I would miss them so much that my heart would ache.

seventeen months

I love having a little boy. I think all of the people that tell me that boys aren't fun to dress are dead wrong. I think I get an almost bigger laugh about dressing him up in a button-down shirt and jeans than I do about putting tights and dresses on Renee. Plus, Cam's a lot less picky about his attire at this point so he'll roll with almost anything. As long as there is OUTSIDE! or DOWNSTAIRS! involved, he doesn't care. When his sister still throws herself on the floor if you try to get her to wear real pants (read: JEANS), putting adorable denim on him without him throwing any kind of fit at all is FUN.

Whereas she reserves her fits for clothing choices and peeing on a potty, he throws fits about everything else that doesn't involve staggering around outside reinjuring his bum foot over and over again. Seriously, the kid is going to be limping until he's fifteen at this rate. He WILL NOT sit still. Just when I think the foot is getting better he decides to climb up on the couch or up the playground and that usually ends with him crying and pointing at his foot in pain. And then we start all over again. SUCKS.

He's two teeth away from having his molars and his eye teeth out of the way. Renee still doesn't have her two year molars so I'm hoping this means we are about to get a break from the endless cycle of teething. Administer Motrin or Tylenol, pat and soothe, snuggle, snuggle, REPEAT UNTIL INFINITY. He's cutting one of his bottom eye teeth now and is NOT PLEASED about it. In fact he's been awake every hour or so all night for a few days now. He's gotten a lot better about going back to sleep but he still wakes up to check in often in the night. I have the feeling that Cameron will be wandering in to our room in the middle of the night for a long time. Like, I won't be surprised if he's eleven and still not sleeping through the night. I don't think he'll ever sleep through the night. I just don't think he's made that way. I'm finally OK with it, as long as he just needs a little reassurance to go back to sleep. He's trained us to just get over it and expect it. He won.

He eats with a fork and will not start eating until he is given a fork. He has better fine motor skills on that front at seventeen months than Renee does at almost three. I don't think he likes to get his hands dirty. He likes hotdogs, grilled ham and cheese, grapes, avocados, pears, carrots and anything sweet. I love the look on his face when I sneak him an m&m or some (eggless) banana bread. He looks so pleased with himself and right after the first taste starts making the sign for and shouting the word MORE!

His language has exploded in the last couple of weeks. My favorite words he says are Peet (Peek), Do-staaaiiirs (downstairs), Hot (emphasis on the T), A-nae (Renee), A bath (I love that he thinks the word is abath instead of just bath). I love that when we mention Nena or Rama he ALWAYS says Papa! or Grandpa! like he thinks it's a little joke he's telling by picking the dudes over the ladies. My mom was here over the weekend and he would stand at the basement door where she was and say PAPA! Even though Papa was at home and he knew damn well it was Rama down there. Little comedian. He'd get this little shit eating grin on his face when I'd tell him it was Rama downstairs.

He likes balls and driving cars and just wandering around outside. He plays with all of the toys that she never liked. It is so bizarre. He still wants anything out of reach or anything that he isn't supposed to have. It's like the grill spatula with the knife edge has a magnet pulling him towards it. He loses his mind when anyone (especially his sister) takes anything away from him.

He's always hurting himself and has not had a bruiseless face in weeks. In addition to the sprained foot we've had bloody noses and big bumps and bruises. His shins look like someone has been kicking him in the shins every day for the last month. He's too busy and curious and boyish for his own good.

We're getting ready for a trip to the allergist where I'm pretty convinced we are going to be told he's allergic to everything. We've seen a LOT of sneezing and watery eyes since spring has shown up and when you factor in the egg allergy that is still pretty obvious and the antibiotic reaction he had last month and I'm pretty sure we're going to have issues on that front. I hope I'm wrong.

I finally got him in for his 15 month well baby visit and he's 50th percentile for weight and 70th for height so he's still holding his own on that front. He's a hard baby to hold and I'm always convinced he must be abnormally large but he's not apparently. Like my mom said over the weekend, "He doesn't help you out." His chest is built like a linebacker but his actual weight and height say otherwise. I've been putting some 2T shirts on him recently to cover up his adorable pot belly.

I hold him for a long time at night before laying him down in bed willing him to stay small enough to lay on my lap for just a while longer. It's the only time of the day that he snuggles and I eat up every second of it. He grew up too fast. His dad and I go to battle every night about who gets to read him books before bed because it is so amazing to cuddle up with him and watch him say flower or duck or cup for the first time ever while recognizing it in a book and because we both know he won't be little for much longer. We love you, Bubster, C-man, Sunny, Stooge McDuck. We're glad you are ours.

fifteen months

The month, like so many others in our recent past, was overtaken mostly by teething. He cut two molars and an eye tooth with a double ear infection chaser. I can't complain a lot because it was our first ever ear infection in this house and all I can say is that you people that deal with ear infections every few weeks are my HERO. I've never seen either of our kids quite as cranky as Cameron was for a few days there. 

He bounced back though and now he's back to steering me around by throwing his body this way or that way when I'm carrying him around. He is obsessed with the counters and the drawers and I can't do ANYTHING without him flipping out because it's his turn! It's his turn with the potato masher already. 

He's trying to figure out how the world works and I remember now why I think 15 months might be my favorite age of all-time. He is just so curious about everything. All he wants in life is to figure out how to open the lotion lid by himself. Can you imagine life being that simple? He runs over and hands me things willing me to open them with his eyes because he hasn't quite figured out how to get the word OPEN to come out of his mouth. He can say it with his eyes though and when I say "Open?" and hand it back to him he looks so proud of himself.
 
Top the curiously off with the new words that are flying out of his mouth left and right and not an hour goes by that I'm not amazed by his brilliance. Ski, he just pointed at my eyes and said EYES! Can't you believe it? We gave birth to the second coming of Einstein for sure! He says maw (more), eyes, up, aa duu (All Done), naaa (nose), ni ni (night, night), light, uh oh and my personal favorite, Mama. He's figured out how to use the fact that it's my favorite word to his advantage.

He's a picky little eater but loves grapes, pizza, hot dogs, milk and grilled ham and cheese sandwiches. Yep, I think that pretty much covers it. He claps his chubby little hands when I put grilled ham and cheese sandwiches on his plate and then promptly devours the entire sandwich himself in about seven seconds.
 
When those seven seconds are up, he demands that we remove him from the confines of his booster seat because there is climbing to do. If he's not demanding that I carry him around to show him the various things that are just out of reach for him, he's scaling the walls. Or standing at the basement door and screeching until we take him downstairs. 

He's likes to snuggle between the minutes of 7:24PM and 7:42PM and that's it. He curls right up with his blankets on my lap, finds a corner EXACTLY like his sister used to do, puts his bottle off to the side of his mouth and chugs. I don't know if all kids do these things or if he learned them from watching her but I do know that he does it precisely like she does. It makes me smile. 

He plasters his head against the shoulder of whomever picks him up and it is just about the cutest thing I have ever seen in my life. When new people are around, he puts his head on my shoulder like he's shy and then keeps looking back and smiling. When he's nervous in general, he plasters that head to whatever shoulder is close. He prefers man shoulders but is starting to come around on the ladies.
 
He's been so great with sleeping lately that I hate to jinx it so I'll just say that I've finally gotten to the point where the sun going down doesn't make me want to cry. When I hear him stirring through the monitor in the morning I can't wait to get in there to see what he's up to, to find out how much he's grown overnight. That feeling, the I-missed-you-while-you-slept feeling has not been part of my relationship with Cameron until this point. It hasn't been part of our relationship because I saw him every two hours all night long for the first 13 months of his life. It is a nice (and very welcomed) change. I can promise you that the Baby Whisper's Pick Up, Put Down thing works...at least on older babies. We went through like 4-5 nights of sheer hell where we picked him up and put him down no fewer than 1,000 times but he eventually figured it out and I'm so glad that I didn't end up getting to the point where I had to make him cry so hard he puked.

We took him swimming over the weekend and he LOVED it. He loved flirting with the girls in the pool and playing with the toys. He dumped those buckets of water over and over again. It is so fun to watch him develop, to watch his little personality grow into something so astonishingly different than his big sister. They are polar opposites, my children, and I'm so thankful for that. I'm so thankful for my outgoing little boy with the big eyes and the even bigger laugh. I'm so thankful that he brought his own challenges and his own success stories when he came into my life because he has made me appreciate even more the prevelance of indivivuality. He made me realize that every single child on earth is completely different and I find myself a lot more forgiving of other people in general. I've changed so much because of one little feisty baby boy that since day one has gone up against everything I had planned for him and proved to me that I have very limited control over the course that life takes me.

And, as a side, I'm SO GLAD that I took the time to do these monthly posts because the other day I went and read Renee's 15 month post. And I was all like, HOLY CRAP I totally remember her as an angel at this age and my own writing says not. CRAZY.

fourteen months

Sunny, that's what I've taken to calling my boy this month. We still throw Bubbs and Bubby and Bubba around a bit but his mommy has taken to calling him Sunny. It started as 'hey son' and has morphed into Sunny and I'm so attached to it that I'm not sure I'll ever call him anything else again. So here's why, son. There is no reason...one day I woke up and it just happened.

He is a man-i-ac and driving his mother (and father...and sister, for that matter) batty. He races for Renee's sippy cups the second she puts them down and then he high tails it for the other room giggling like a school girl just waiting for one of us to chase after him. When we get close he says "no, no, no, no." And then he laughs. And then my head explodes because it is the hundred and fifteenth time he's done that. IN THE LAST HOUR.

He's obsessed with climbing on anything and everything. During the course of the last three weekend days I have caught him standing on each of the following things: the dining room table, the play table, the back of the couch and my personal favorite, the roof of his sister's dollhouse. He climbs up there and just bides his time, waiting until I get wind of what he's up to and then he laughs and laughs and laughs. TURKEY. Turkey with a smashed up face, that's where it's headed. I don't worry about it so much when his dad is home because his dad hovers over him but good Lord, no one should leave me alone with him right now, seeing how I have the attention span of a gnat right now.

It's these children, they took my brain. Piece by piece, they took it all away.

He LOVES shoes. And boots and slippers and footwear of any kind. He drags them over and demands that we put them on and when we stand him up he gets this excited, proud little look on his face before he takes off running. He gets so frustrated when they are daddy's shoes and they are too big to stay on his feet.

He's at that stage where he wants so desparately to communicate that it is driving him mad. He can say Mama, Uh oh, kitty, light, no and night, night. He was poking at my teeth the other night and I kept telling him that they were called teeth and he made a very distinct 'Th' sound and you would have thought he won the Pulitzer Price for how proud he was of himself when he heard that sound come out of his mouth.

When you put food on his plate that he likes he starts clapping. If you mention the word milk, he runs for the fridge. He wants to tell us what he's thinking but he struggles to get the words out and those struggles usually leave him sitting in the middle of the floor with his head between his knees kicking and screaming.

Now that we've gotten his belly more stabilized we've been working on undoing all of the bad sleeping habits he had developed. It didn't take him long to get the hang of it, though, and he finally goes to sleep for naps and at bedtime all by himself. He still wakes in the night every few hours though screaming his bloody head off but I can go in there and pick him up for three seconds and lay him back down and he'll go right to sleep. I've mastered the art of Pick Up, Put Down without even waking up, I think. I can put him back to sleep, pee and get back into bed without even opening my eyes.

He is the sunshine of our lives and such a fun little boy to have around. I am amazed daily at how much of a boy he is and how different he is than his sister.

I'm so glad that I got the chance to witness the differences between girls and boys and I remind myself often that while he might be harder to have around as a baby, when they are thirteen and fourteen and we're smack dab in the middle of teenage girl drama, I'll be so glad that he's a little boy. I'm glad today that he is a little boy...I'm just glad in a very tired way.
 

thirteen months

The Sickness found him. I was really hoping that it would wait until after I stuff my face with sausage roll this weekend but it found him despite my pleas. The poor little dude has been battling a 104 degree fever for three days now. No other symptoms, just The Fever. The kind of fever that you don't need to bother remembering when you administered the last dose of Motrin because The Fever will tell you. The Fever does not forget. He's a total boy about being sick, moaning and whining and insisting on being held all night long and holy sweet Jesus his fuse is SHORT. It's not like it's ever been all that long but don't you even THINK about trying to put him down for a nap. He can hear your thoughts and he is NOT INTERESTED. STOP ASKING ALREADY.

Before The Sickness found him he was doing really good though. I really think eliminating eggs has helped him a lot in the belly department as he seems a lot happier and is sleeping relatively better. I haven't seen a glimpse of hives or eczema in weeks and (in case you were wondering) his stools are a lot better too. Not quite so putrid. YOU'RE WELCOME. He has an appointment with an allergist that we'll never be able to take him to because we are already juggling The Fever and time-off of work. I'm pretty confident it is eggs though so I'm not sure I see the point in going and I'm sure that Dr. Google will be able to tell me more than the allergist would anyways.

He loves people and is happiest when there is a lot of action going on around him. He gets so excited that he just can't contain himself and it takes him a good two or three days to calm down after the storm. He's so cute when he's at it though, smiling and goofing and being a ham. He is impossible to be around without laughing because he loves to be laughed at. So, he does something silly and you laugh so he laughs and this cycle could go on for infinity. Have I mentioned how infectious his laugh is? I have? Well, it's worth mentioning again, it's that good.
He likes men. Give him Papa or Daddy or Grumpa or Uncle Taber or Uncle Carl over any of the ladies any day of the week. He's not really picky as long as it is a dude and not a lady. I think Renee was a bit like that too but she made an exception for her mama. Cameron, not so much. He's not quiet about his preference for Daddy. Some days it hurts my feelings and then on the days when he's up ALL NIGHT LONG and wants ONLY Daddy I smirk to myself all the way back to bed. SUCKAS.
He follows his sister around all day every day trying to rip the toys out of her hands. I imagine this is the dance we'll be dancing for the rest of our lives. I forgot to enjoy the time when she was the only one big enough to fight because now it's pretty much a tug-of-war from sunrise to sunset with a few short minutes in between when they are both asleep. Time I use to slam down a glass or two of wine just to get ready for the afternoon rematch. There's always another match. Tug-of-war never gets tiring and it doesn't matter if they each have their own of the EXACT same toy, they'll both just want both. Save yourself the money.  

He is still babbling on in his own little language. He loves to play UH OH where he makes a huge swipe across his high chair to knock all of the food on the floor. He says UH OH before he even gets it off his tray. He loves to watch me cook in the kitchen. He will not play on the floor or even in allow Dad to hold him when I'm cooking. MUST.BE.PART.OF.ACTION.

The only toys he plays with are kitchen utensils and anything that makes music. He busts out dancing any time he hears a song. You can just see the wheels turning in his head. He stops, points his finger like he's getting his groove on, and then starts swaying back and forth not unlike how his Dad dances. Just a few days ago he added the arm motion where he raises his right arm and sways it like people do with lighters at concerts. It cracks me up every single time. I got it on video but it will never be the same in ten years, there aren't words to describe the cuteness. I wish I could bottle him up right now (minus The Fever) and save him on a shelf somewhere so that I can open in up in a few years and breathe in the essence of his baby-ness. Because he's that perfect combination of baby and toddler right now where everything he does, everything he learns, everything he says is the cutest thing you've ever seen in your life.

twelve months

The one year old, he cracks me up right now. He with his chubby little belly and the dimples on his knees and how he stumbles around a la Frankenstein trying so hard to put together the coordination to run in order to keep up with Renee. 

I adore how looks up me and grins and then starts clapping his chunky little hands when I go in to his room to get him in the morning. It makes me feel so special that he’s so happy to see me. He’s started whining and pointing at the door if I make a move like I’m going to try to rock him back to sleep. He’s ready to start his day at five o’clock in the ever-loving morning and he’s not afraid to make that known, thank-you-very-much.

He knows what he wants and he’s figuring out how to use his tools to make those wants a reality. He’s signing a bit now, especially MORE as it pertains to requesting more waffles. The kid likes waffles like I like m&ms. He actually went so far as to start crying loudly the other morning when I put Cheerios on his tray. He arched his back and carried on and I was all like “What is UP with you? It’s too early for this shit” and Ski looked at me and said, “I think he wants a waffle.” And sure enough, I made him one, cut it up and put it on his tray and he grinned and started clapping. Then, he gobbled the entire thing up in about 10 seconds and started signing for MORE. He doesn’t touch his meat or vegetables, eating only fruit and carbs of any sort.

He’s also asserting himself with his big sister and the look on her face when he pushes back or rips a toy back out of her hands when she takes it from him is priceless. I think he only weighs a few pounds less than her at this point and he’s ready to fight back. She’s had it coming for a while.

He can say three words: UH OH! (in reference to everything he drops on the floor from his highchair), KITTY (his whole face lights up and he chases them around so proud that he can finally say their name) and HI (which he says to everyone). I think he's trying to say other things and jabbers on and on in his own little language. I imagine one day here soon it will all turn in to words and that will be it. Between he and Renee never shutting up, I'm assuming I'll be well into my 30s before I get enough peace and quiet that I can form a rational thought.

We're up to seven teeth now and he let us know all about how bad it hurt every time one of them came in. He spent much of this month whining and chomping on his nuk and drooling all over his clothes. I think he would rather not get anymore teeth and I think I could live with a seven-toother forever if it meant I wouldn't have to see him in anymore pain.
He still gets lazy and crawls once in a while and I love how he puts his head down like he's on a mission to go as fast as he possibly can.

He's climbing furniture and is still obsessed with wires. I am tired of the wires. He will throw and chase a ball around on the floor for 15 minutes at a time somedays, though, and it is seriously the cutest thing ever. His face is so full of determination like he's going to make the best throw and right after he lets the ball go, he takes off as fast as he can to get it.

He’s a charmer, my son. The polar opposite of his sister who glared at any stranger that had the audacity to look at her, Cameron smiles and carries on. It is quite a change of pace for me to have a kid that people actually talk about how sweet and cute they are. With Renee, it was usually along the lines of “She sure is particular” or “She sure likes her mommy.” With Cam, it’s more like “OHMYGOD he’s so sweet and cute and funny” and I’m all like “Why don’t you come over tomorrow morning at 4:45AM and you can let me know then how cute you think he is.” He’s at that golden age where he likes to go out for dinner and flirt with waitresses and watch people. The other night he stalked one of the waitresses at the Brewhouse for the ENTIRE time we were there. Apparently he likes blondes.

ten months

There are three people in this life that make Cameron's life worth living: Daddy, Renee and Sasha. Simon and I? We're totally second rate. If he so much as catches a glimpse of Ski he dives for the ground and thud, thud, thuds his little booty over there as fast as he can. He follows Renee everywhere she goes to the point where she is constantly saying "Cammon, LEAVE ME ALONE."

Seriously, what kind of kid doesn't like his mother? Mine apparently. It makes me sad so often and then I have to tell myself that maybe it's just a phase. Maybe someday he'll want me to hold him. I love him anyways.
He LOVES to swing. LOVES it. When the swingset showed up in the backyard I KNEW Renee would love it. I knew she'd want to be outside all day every day but I didn't realize how sweet it could work out for me if Cameron liked it too. And he does. The ONLY time he sits still is in that swing and he'll sit there smiling and screeching for a half an hour at a time. And if you know Cameron you know that a half an hour is a LONG time for him to do ANYTHING. Even sleep.  

I guess he'll play Squash the Cat for a half an hour at a time sometimes. Sasha seems to enjoy 22 pounds of baby crawling all over her and ripping out her fur because she follows him around all day. And I refuse to protect her because she lays there just ASKING for it. Then all of a sudden she'll have had enough and she bats at him and then he cries and she looks at me like it's all my fault. OF COURSE IT'S MY FAULT.
My money was on ten months for him to start walking and while he's made big strides in that department and can walk between the ottomans and along the furniture, he still prefers crawling as his primary mode of transportation. He'll look like he's going to try and then he says screw it and heads for the floor instead.  He can walk holding on to one of hands though so I imagine we're headed in that direction soon. As though he doesn't already have enough bruises and scrapes from just the simple fact that he's a BOY. He has no fear.

He learned how to wave bye bye and I absolutely adore how he waves with his whole body. And I especially love how he scrunches up his nose while he's doing it. He'll just bust out The Wave for no reason sometimes and look at me like "When are you guys going to clap and say 'Yeah Cameron' because I'm totally waving over here."

He went through a stretch where he was sleeping fairly well and then all of a sudden out of nowhere mid-month he pretty much quit sleeping all together. Sleeping is for sissies. I love how he grabs my shirt and forcefully pulls me towards him with both hands when I go into his room to console him in the night. I also hate how he does this because seriously the lack of sleep going on at our house is getting OLD.

He is cutting some new teeth (three on the top including his two front teeth) now so I'm crossing my fingers that that's what is bothering him at night. Although I think his troubles fall more into the category of farts. He HATES to fart. Seriously he'll carry on screaming and arching his back for like 15 minutes sometimes and then he'll bust off a fart and immediately go back to normal. I DON'T KNOW WHAT TO DO ABOUT THIS. I feed him nothing but fruits and vegetables and meat and his belly is still so volatile.
 
He loves the bath and the sprinkler and the water table. He has NO fear at all, crawling right through the sprinkler with it spraying right in his face. He'll sort of shake it off and then look up at me and laugh. Like did you catch that mom? I'm TOUGH.

He's incredibly ticklish. Like I pretty much just have to look at him and say "TICKLE, TICKLE" and he busts out laughing. I love his laugh. His smile is HANDS DOWN his best feature.
 
Although I have to admit that the dimples on his elbows and his knees are a close second. Why can't babies have chubby little rolls on their legs forever?

He wants to eat his snacks in the living room like Renee so my house is pretty much covered in a thin layer of pears and peaches and bananas. He dumps them all over the carpet and then smears them in. NICE.  

He's big enough to start to do things with Renee, they actually sat in the wagon for like 10 minutes together without fighting this weekend and Ski and I spent the entire walk pondering how wonderful life would be if they just got along and liked to play together.

He's busy growing and learning and becoming his own little dude. I looked at him a few times this month and just sighed because he's starting to look like a kid. He's starting to look what he's going to look like when he gets older. And then I find myself torn between welcoming a life where the kids aren't on such different schedules and we can actually have a life again and wanting him to stay little forever. Because I'll miss the sound of a baby crying through the monitor at three in the morning someday. Won't I?  

I'll miss the giggles and dimples, this much is sure. 

nine months

It only took nine months (seriously NINE months, WTF?) for Cameron to figure out that his crib is an alright place to chill at night by himself. I know that I'm going to pay dearly for broadcasting this to the Internet but my son? He's "sleeping through the night." FINALLY. My definition of "sleeping through the night" involves him going to bed around 7:30PM and awakening somewhere beteween 3AM and 5AM to chug a bottle before going back to sleep. But when the old version of "sleeping through the night" involved me getting up every two hours to Pick Up, Put Down or rub his back or feed him, I'm totally willing to jump on this small development as the best thing that ever happened to me. I feel like a HUMAN. I even smile once in a while, IF YOU CAN BELIEVE THAT.
 
He switched entirely to formula this month and there is a part of me that can't help but STILL wonder if it was something that I was eating that was giving him a sick belly and keeping him awake at night. He's been a much happier baby since. But then I think about how he started eating more solid foods this month too and about how we moved and his new room is darker and cooler and then I drive myself crazy wondering what really helped him to figure it out. The is the WORST part about babies. You NEVER EVER know if it was the formula or the solids or the temperature or the pure simplicity of time passing by that made things better.

Speaking of solid foods, he eats like a linebacker. He employs the Scoop and Shove method to eating, grabbing as much in his chubby little hands as is humanly possible and then trying to stuff it all in his mouth at once. Such a BOY. I keep trying to tell him that he's making a huge mess and wasting most of his food by plastering it to his bib but he doesn't care. Renee would carefully pick up each piece of food and put it in her mouth so this is quite a change in style. I have to make sure his food is cut up in to small enough pieces that he can swallow without having to chew. I can just see him when he's fifteen, sitting down at the dining room to take down an entire box of cereal in about three minutes flat.

He loves wires, straps or anything that looks like a string. He busts his little booty as fast as he can over to the wires when I leave the room. When I say "HEY Cameron, what are you doing?" he loooks up and giggles, recognizing his name and knowing that he isn't supposed to be doing what he's doing.

He can walk between the ottomans in the living room and pushes his little push toy around all day every day. He's even mastered the stairs. HOLD ME. He's going to be chasing after his sister on foot instead of on knee very soon here before we know it. Which, WHOA, WHAT? Wasn't he JUST BORN?

Speaking of his sister, he WORSHIPS her. He smiles this huge two teeth grin every single time he so much as catches of a glimpse of her. If she's playing with the train set, he wants to play with the train set. If she's eating blueberries, he wants blueberries RIGHT NOW. He follows her around already mimicking her, smiling at her, learning all of her dirty rotten tricks. I'm thinking it's going to be at least twenty years before she sees the benefits of having him around so he'll get lots of practice in the meantime with being bossed around by girls that don't want him around.

He's a busy boy, refusing to sit still for any reason other than to eat a bottle. He's not a cuddler at all, he slams his bottle and then starts groaning and whining for me to put him in his bed already. He hates books but loves to play Patty Cake. He still has the greatest laugh in the history of great laughs, giggling from the bottom of his soul at the smallest of things.
 

I just can't believe how big he's gotten and I can not fathom how quiet and relaxing life was before he came into our lives. I can't believe how much I can love a little chubby baby and I can't believe that I was part of creating such an adorable little creature. Most of all I can't believe how lucky I am that I get to call him my son.

eight months

Cameron has been up to no good this month. UP TO NO GOOD. He's a baby on the move and don't you dare try to tell him that it isn't cool to chew on wires. DON'T YOU DARE try to stop him. It started as the inch worm where he'd sort of throw himself forward to get where he is going and then one day he got up on his knees and figured out how to alternate them and I've been trying to talk myself off the ledge since.
 
Not really, I'm not sure that the actually moving is that much worse than the being pissed off that you can't move. Although now when he sees Ski or I, he crawls over to our feet and demands to be picked up. And when we pick him up, he immediately dives for the floor. I do no understand this madness. WHICH IS IT, baby? Do you want to be held or do you want to play on the floor because it is a physical impossibility to do both at the same time. IT ISN'T MOMMY'S FAULT, get mad at the universe instead, it's just the way things work. It's called GRAVITY.

The other night he was winding down for the night playing his his crib and I was doing what I do every night (putting away the NEVER ENDING laundry) and I went into our bedroom for like seven seconds and when I came back the little boy was STANDING in his crib. He caught my eye and he literally laughed out loud. I swear he was mocking me. The little turkey.

Some nicknames have started to stick: His dad calls him C-Dawg and I call him Bubba, Buster and Big Boy most of the time. Renee calls him Pam or Cammon. He'll never live that down. Our little baby boy Pam, we love him so.

I busted him saying Dadadadadada over and over the other day and my suspicions were confirmed: He's a daddy's boy at heart. He busts his little butt over to Ski's feet at record speed when he comes in from work and I secretly laugh to myself that's it's his turn to hold him because the baby? He's not light and he gets awfully heavy to hold all day. I'm putting my money on 23 pounds.

He still is pretty dramatic about his belly and will literally scream his fool head off all morning until he poops. After that he is instantly transformed from monster to angel. I'm not sure what is causing his belly ache or if it is just the belly that God gave him but I feel bad for him a lot of the time because I know he doesn't WANT to be fussy. He just wants to poop already and his body can't catch up to his brain. Sort of like how I don't want to eat a bag of M&Ms every day but my body just can't talk my brain out of it. I can totally empathize.

He's a snuggle bug, waking in the night to make sure we are still there. Thankfully he's OK with either Ski and I doing the holding, a trick that he could have taught his sister a thing or two about when she was a baby. Most of the time I think he wakes up because he is ramming his head into the crib and it hurts. I do not understand this either. Why the crawling in his sleep? I DO NOT UNDERSTAND WHY BABIES DON'T JUST SLEEP. They would be so much happier if they did. He's getting better though, 60 percent of the time he gets up between 2-3AM, eats or snuggles and then goes back to sleep until 6AM or so. The other 40% of the time, however, he is up and down ALL NIGHT running into the sides of his crib and on those nights you can find me in my glider in the dark tearing my eyeballs out with my fingernails.

I love his little bald head and I will never forget how soft it is on my cheek and on my lips. I hope he never gets hair because honestly, I can't get enough of the baldness.

I love how ticklish he is and how he pulls his feet away when I touch them and how he laughs the greatest belly laughs when I blow raspberries on his chubby little belly.

I love the dimples on his knees and his elbows and that one rough patch of skin on his shin that I have no clue as to what the cause of it is.

I love how he  wraps his arms around me when I pick him up and grabs a fistful of hair for each hand and how he squeezes me in a way that only Cameron can...so strong and so sure of himself.

I love how he flops around like a fish when he's trying to get comfortable, so aggressive and angry and WHY AREN'T YOU LETTING ME GET COMFORTABLE, MOTHER?

And I love most of all how once he finds the magic place how he goes instantly limp, falling asleep literally like the switch of a light just when I am sure that he'll be flopping around there in my arms forever ever.

If only I could make it so that he would be small enough to flop around in my arms forever and ever. I would do it if I could.

seven months

The boy turned seven months old on Saturday and guess what? His mom was too busy watching the Pittsburgh Penguins WIN the Stanley Cup to be bothered with putting together his seven month post. His dad is calling him the Pittsburgh Good Luck Charm. He was born and his teams win. He's seen two championships already in his short little life here on earth, first the Steelers winning the Superbowl and then the Penguins winning the Cup. It's a good thing I married someone with a connection to teams that know how to win because Cameron could be seventy years old before the Vikings or the Wild ever win anything.

I was also busy nursing my sore muscles from painting and hauling and organizing because for some reason his parents decided that now would be a good time to think that tackling something as stressful and difficult as a move would be a good idea. Then he flipped out and spent all weekend moaning and crying and not sleeping and we came to our senses and realized that it probably is a terrible idea. Cam was getting better at sleeping for a week or two, waking up once to chug a bottle at record speed and then going directly back to sleep. I was so happy and then we threw his routine over the weekend and now he's back to flipping the frick out all fricking night long. SHOOT ME. Cameron seriously, are you trying to kill me?

Feeding him is a exercise in patience as he spends pretty much the entire time taking one sip from the bottle and then sitting up to make sure he isn't missing anything that Renee is doing. The constant sitting up and laying back down causes his belly to get upset and then he gets mad at me like I was asking him to be a pain in the ass and refuse to sit still and eat. One bottle out of ten though, he snuggles in and puts his hands over his eyes and eats contently, peeking out at me occasionally like I am the greatest thing to ever happen to him. And during that one bottle of ten I can't imagine ever loving him more. He's still getting pumped breast milk, sometimes with a few ounces of formula mixed in but his belly issues don't seem to be getting any better so I haven't weaned him completely. I expect to be extracting milk for him when he's seven because he just can't seem to eat anything else. Fun times.

Cameron has the greatest laugh on planet earth, when I think of him as a baby I will remember two things: His absolutely infectious laugh and the sheer number of sleepless nights that he put me through. It doesn't matter how crabby we both are, all I have to do his tickle his little belly or kiss his neck and he laughs from the bottom of his soul. Seeing him laugh makes me laugh and we always feel better after that.

His sister is the single greatest thing to ever happen to him and I am constantly leveraging his obsession with her to my advantage. When he's crabby I just ask Renee to come over and give her brother a kiss and I'll be damned if he doesn't laugh right in the middle of moaning and crying. Every. Single. Time. He can have tears streaming down his face and laugh at the same time all because of her.

He desperately wants to move and is not content really anywhere except in his stroller or his car seat. When I hold him, he dives for the floor so I put him on the floor and then he gets pissed off because he's on the floor. Son, please, please, PLEASE figure out how to crawl so I don't have to listen to the frustrated whining for another day. Wait a second, did I just say that? I'm not sure if I should be wishing for that, probably not. :) He scoots around the floor already, from one end of the living room to the other, tormenting his sister by taking her toys. This look pretty much sums up this month for him. He's getting dangerously close, though.



He's obsessed with straps, especially the straps on his car seat and his stroller. He frantically starts looking for his strap the second I put him in his car seat and I often think that strangers probably find it weird that I'm saying things like "Hang on buddy, I'm going to get your strap in just a second." He'll sit and look at those straps for hours on end, putting them in his mouth and taking them out and manipulating them. Fascinating stuff.

He got his first tooth this month and fussed a bit for a couple of days about it and then went back to normal. I love (and hate) how it changed his smile.

He can sit up for the most part and holds himself up there for five or ten minutes before he decides that he's had enough being stationary and rolls to the ground. Then he goes back to being pissed off that he can't crawl.

He takes about 5-6 bites of solid foods before he starts flipping out, demanding to be removed from the confines of his high chair. He gags and pukes if I give him anything with the slightest texture. The only exception to this rule is if I give him one of those little biter biscuits. Those puppies can buy me 15 minutes to eat my dinner every single time. I don't even care about the mess. He apparently likes carbs as opposed to fruits and vegetables and given his history with eating in general, I'm not all that surprised.

He's a good boy and growing so fast that there are many days that I look at him and can't believe how fast the time has gone. I can't believe that seven months ago he came out of my body weighing less than eight pounds and now he's my little Chunky Monkey that weighs almost twenty. I need to get a picture of his belly, the rolls are downright edible and I am physically incapable of not smiling when I change his clothes. He's a mommy's boy, my big boy, the keeper of my heart and I can't imagine another day without him in it.

Sorry these pictures sort of suck, we've been so busy with the thinking of moving and the hockey and the not sleeping that I didn't have many to choose from and then I edited the ones I had and hated how they turned out and then I decided I was too lazy to redo them. Next month I'll be better :(