Chillin'

Happy Birthday, Baby Boy!

Dearest Conqueror,

Today, we celebrate your first birthday. While a very happy occasion, I am filled with some sadness at what we have left behind. These days you are rarely content to sit quietly in my arms, as you have things to explore and discover. Walking, while such a milestone, has you constantly leaving me instead of coming towards me. I understand that this is all a part of the growth process but, today, I am slightly sad at all that has come and gone so quickly.

I am so in love with your adventurous personality; you are always looking for something new to get into. (Just yesterday, you and the cat shared a yummy snack of Iams cat food.) I appreciate the seemingly innate differences in you and your sister. She was content to sit alone quietly playing at your age, while you are far from quiet or content for long. You are a little boy with much to do and sitting quietly isn't on your agenda. I have few breaks during your wakeful hours as quiet means trouble where you are concerned.

You and I are so close; closer than I have ever been with another, I think. I attribute this to breastfeeding, which did not come easy for us. But, we were diligent, you and I, and succeeded. So successful, in fact, that you refused bottles after 5 months. You are definitely a boy who knows what he wants.

I am astounded at your zeal for food, as your sister was an apathetic eater at best. You love breakfast of scrambled egg and toast. You gobble down almost anything offered, except meat. You have an easy, ready smile that melts my heart and anger in a moment. I delight in your silly laughter and love seeing your sister's eyes when I look into yours.

I look at you today, so big and looking so much like Daddy and I hope that you will become a great man someday. I don't wish for you fame or power, necessarily, but greatness at being a citizen of the world; a conscientious husband and loving, engaged father. These are my hopes for you above all. I want happiness and a less bumpy road of life.

I thank God for sending you to me. You and your sister have given me the greatest joy and challenges that I have ever imagined and you are by far the best things your father and I have ever done. I never thought I had the capacity to love you and your sister with the ferocity that I do. What a lesson in patience and humility parenting has been for me.

Thank you for being my baby.

Christmas Baby Crack

Here are some photos of The Conqueror getting a sneak peek at a Christmas gift. He was instantly in love and occupied for a looooooooooong time so Mommy and Daddy could finish wrapping. This may turn out to be his drug of choice! Woot! Merry Christmas from my family to yours!

Boys!

My son has recently taken to sticking his fingers in my mouth and fishing around in there. I would like him not to do this because...well, it hurts and I don't want him doing it to others. So, yesterday I was playing with him and he jabbed his fingers in my mouth and scraped my lip and I groaned out loud. He stopped and then continued his fishing expedition.

Hoping to curtail this, I pretended to cry. When Her Highness was small, I could make her cry by just feigning crying and I thought it might show him that it made me unhappy. So, I puckered up my lower lip and made all the whimpering noises. He stopped. He looked at me intently. He opened his mouth and...

Laughed.

Really, really hard.

Yeah, this kid will be the death of me. I can tell.

Haiku Friday

Oh, reclining chair
How I loathe sleeping in you
I miss husband, bed

The boy was ill, yes
He wanted me to hold him
His crib? Not anymore

Asthma, doctor said
Coughing, wheezing, my heart broke
Back to the old chair

It is Haiku Friday, want to join in?

Oh, Mr. Sandman... Where Are You???

Her Highness and I have been a little under the weather over the weekend; she more so than I. I just have a sinusy thing and the aches. HH is coughing, sneezing, hoarse, etc. Of course, she finished her strep throat anitbiotic the day this bout of symptoms appeared. Isn't that always how it works?

I have been dreading The Conqueror getting sick. Of course, I don't want either of my children to feel bad but, as he is still an infant, it affects me more than when HH gets ill. Well, it has happened and the first thing that goes in our house is the sleeping. I'm not 100% sure if he is sick or teething or a combination of the two. Either way, the kid is a crank and unhappy in a bad way.

He was up every two hours last night. That is so difficult on a person to get up and down and up and down with a whiny, stuffy baby. It was like having a newborn again and I have pretty much sworn that off for, oh, FOREVER! I feel bad for the poor little dude 'cause he can't say, oh, well, my throat hurts or my head hurts but I'm feeling pretty sorry for me today, too. I am tired. Tired. Exhausted. Worn out. I feel like I partied all night long minus the upset stomach and embarrassment.

So, if you happen to run into the sandman, send him our way and right quick 'cause we are t-i-r-e-d over here!

He's Crawling!!

The Conqueror was eight months old yesterday and, today, he began to crawl. If I were more technologically inclined, I would post a video clip of the first time he did it. Unfortunately, I am not technologically inclined so... use your imagination.

Of course, we think he is a genius. A prodigy. A wunderkind. He crawled to his sister, who is his most favorite person in all the world.

His Pooper's Always Stopped Up

Did that get your attention? Thought it might.

The Conqueror has been fighting constipation since we began solid foods. We have tried adding juice to his diet but can't do it in the volume that he needs (apparently) to, uh, get things moving.

So, I called the Lactation Consultants at the hospital hoping they would have some fabulous insight. Unfortunately, I got the one I don't really care for and she quickly jumped to TC having an anatomical problem that would need surgery. Oh, come on! Just 'cause he can't poop? And she's not even a doc and has never seen him. She also insinuated that he needed to start crawling to lose some weight when I told her he weighed, I guesstimate, about 21#. Nice! So, that was about 10 minutes of my life I won't ever get back.

RxMan laments "why can't our kids poop?" That is kinda true because Her Highness (who had a GREAT day at second grade, thanks for asking) had a good deal of trouble down below as an infant and then a one year old transitioning from formula to cow's milk (ugly, oh, so ugly). Then, as a toddler, she took a stool softener. So, yeah, we've been here before. HH's problems seem to be related to a resolved milk allergy and a poor toddler diet (she was finicky). She's as regular as her daddy now (TMI???)! TC isn't having any dairy so I don't think that is the issue.

So, I resorted to something that many of you will gasp at. Those of you who personally know me will be shocked that I would do something so old school. The youngest of you will not even know what I am talking about. But, before I tell you my secret weapon against constipation, let me assure you it was truly a last resort. We have added "real" veggies, more juice and less food. He is not dehydrated. And, our ped (a wonderful, wonderful doc) says this is okay on occasion. We are using Karo syrup.

My mom and her four siblings took it every day in with their Pet milk and water combo. Check with your folks, they probably did, too. Rest assured, this is not our long term solution because we assume as TC gets more mobile and eats more people food, things will soften up on their own, as it were. But in the meantime, we went old school. Does that make me cool and rebellious?

Yeah, didn't think so.

PS: HAPPY BIRTHDAY, ALLIE!!!!!

A Brighter Day

So, as you may have noted from my previous two posts, I am a little on edge lately. Okay, more than a little. I am taking a class that is becoming irritatingly busy, my son has been teething (read: not sleeping well or napping without being held) and I am not sleeping well either. All of these things combined make Toni a very unhappy camper.

It all came to a head last evening when RxMan's co-worker called and asked him to work this coming Sunday. Okay, this is not something that I like to happen anyway but coming off of a weekend where RxMan worked 9-9 Friday, 9-7 Saturday and 10-6 Sunday and The Conqueror's crankiness had reached an all-time high as he cut his third tooth (front upper right), I went ballistic.

My husband's job is a source of conflict between us. He is extremely well-paid for living in the area that we do, and he is very good at what he does; however, he works for an evil, tyrannical company that eats small businesses for breakfast, lunch and dinner. This company, which begins with Wal and ends with Mart, runs our lives. RxMan cannot call off sick. He cannot take a day off because TC or HH is ill or just because he wants to stay home and, oh, paint a room unless he finds coverage for his shift. Now, mind you, he went to college for 5- I mean, 6 (not an honor student)- years and is not just a flunky pushing a broom. Anyway.

I flipped out. I mean I. Flipped. Completely. Out. I used a word that begins with f and ends with k about forty times. I threatened to leave and let him take care of the baby. I threatened divorce. I cried. I shouted. (Don't worry, though, first I sent HH to my room and asked her to turn the TV up loud and shut the door and TC was asleep.) I said I hated the evil empire that he works for and all who work there. I said I didn't sign up for this crap (not really the word but use your imagination), nor did I marry the evil empire 9 years ago and I was tired of taking a backseat to it! And, oh, there was more that I can't remember and cannot print because,hey, this is a mommy blog.

RxMan said I was freaking out and needed meds. (He may be right on the last part.) I said I was going to deck him if he said anything else. Eventually, I calmed down and realized that I had reached my limit. It had been a long, long, lonely weekend and the four walls of our home were closing in on me. The crying and whining from my handsome baby had done me in. And the pesky neighbor kids were just the icing on my cake.

So, the crying and shouting was somewhat cathartic. I slept well and so did The Conqueror. I woke hopeful and feeling positive about the day. Perhaps the boy was going to be back to his pleasant self. And, dare I say it, so far it is true. And not a moment too soon. Phew.

Hard Headed

So, twice this week I have allowed The Conqueror to fall off a chair. Both times he landed right on the tippy top of his head. Once, it was on concrete. That was the first time and I, not surprisingly, freaked. Completely. Out.

RxMan was grilling and TC and I were on the back porch with him, just enjoying (?!) the damp humidity and Ohio heat. As I have at least 50 times in the past, I sat him in a chair and I sat across from him- probably about 5 feet away. I know, I know, too far. And, yes, I know, you are never to leave a baby out of arm's reach. In my defense, I am trying not to smother my son into becoming a wuss and am trying not to worry needlessly about things that are unlikely to happen.

Well, I guess it wasn't so unlikely. 'Cause he did fall. Really, really hard. And he cried- almost as much as I did. I saw it coming and shouted, "No, CONQUEROR, don't move!!" He, however, glanced my way and continued his descent over the edge of the chair. I jumped and grabbed. And missed. He thudded on top of his head and did a flip onto his back. Then I had to decide if I was going to risk breaking his neck by picking him up.

I risked it. His perfect little face was screwed into a mess of shock, pain and tears. Mine was too. RxMan took TC from me and, after a minute or so, the boy was trying to rip Daddy's glasses from his face. I was still sobbing and yelling that I did not want the baby to die.

Good news, though. He is fine and didn't even get a scratch on his hard head.

The second fall was onto carpet so, totally not a big deal. I didn't even call the doctor. Aren't you proud of me? I haven't told Her Highness yet, though, about either fall. She already thinks she can't sleep over anywhere because I am, apparently, incapable of adequately caring for her beloved brother.