Abram - 7 & 8 Months

I apologize to my little Abram, for I have failed you when it comes to monthly pictures and updates.  Seven months came and went without a single monthly picture or post.  As a result, I'm going to attempt to compare your eight month self to your seven month self. 

Things changed for you over the course of a month.  They did.  In the beginning of the month you could sit up on your own with some coaxing, but you would often topple over in an effort to get someone to hold you.  That sitting up business just takes a lot out of a young man, and, let's be honest, you much preferred to have your head resting on a nice bosom.  At eight months you have finally broken down and summoned the ability to sit up on your own without throwing your head backwards with great force.  Only, sitting is kind of boring, and a small part of you really wants to crawl, but then there is that whole exerting energy thing.  It goes against your whole "super chill dude" persona.  So at eight months if you really want to get something you just roll around the floor, left, right, over, back, up, down until you finally reach that thing you are reaching for.  Or sometimes you just sit there, clap your hands, smile your giant, adorable smile, and hope that your sister or someone will just bring it over to you.  If you could pick, you would munch on papers, shoes, wires, and boxes.  Anything non-toy will do just fine.

Seven Months - I HATE CRAWLING!!

 

At seven months we were still feeding you mostly baby food and a few baby puffs twice a day, plus a few bottles.  And, GASP!  You started eating one bottle of the devil's power at seven months.  That's right, your Mama started cheating with some formula.  You don't seem to care much, and I feel a new sense of freedom.  Like some of the weight of the world has been lifted from my shoulders, because if I forget to bring the milk or refrigerate the milk or freeze the milk - the milk, milk, milk - you aren't going to die.  By eight months you are eating pretty much everything including some table food.  You love to eat.  LOVE to eat.  We added a lunch meal at eight months.  You love the squeezy pouches of food and you inhale them in less than 15 seconds.  It's impressive!  You can feed yourself a bottle at eight months.  Sometimes we just toss one in your crib.  We never would have did that with your sister, but with the second kid, well... with the second kid it's all very different.

Eight Months - I love to eat!

You got your bottom right tooth at seven months and a matching bottom left tooth at eight months.  For such a cool, easygoing dude you are kind of a super wuss when it comes to teething - especially at night.  Maybe it is just a coincidence, but you started to suck a little at sleeping when you got your first tooth.  Nothing much has changed from seven months to eight months in the sleep department.  We stopped swaddling you, because this summer was 800 degrees from the end of June to just recently.  You did fine with that, and some nights I put you in your crib wide awake and you just fall asleep like a good, sweet boy.  No tears.  No screams.  But then some nights you scream your little balls off.  We cannot rock you or give you a bottle or calm you down in any way, and I will never forget the one night where I just gave you a big dropper full of Tylenol, closed your door, closed my door, and fell asleep listening to your cries.  There was just nothing I could do for you.  You are like that sometimes.  Once you get worked up and start crying there is just nothing anyone can do for you.  You may have the Tithof temper on you.  The bright side is that once you fall asleep you stay asleep the entire night.  Good boy.

You and your sister started at a new daycare at seven months and you held out for about a month without catching daycare cooties, but by eight months you have that signature daycare runny nose.  You had a hard time with all of the noise and screaming at Lana's house, but by eight months you are much better around loud noises.  You are such a good boy during the day.  You pretty much never cry and you are always smiling.  I could take you anywhere and I would never worry even once that you'd be fussy or have a Chloelike meltdown.

At seven months your hair started to come in thick, and by eight months you have a sweet, little, blond rooster tail on the top of your head.  You have giant blue eyes.  They take up half of your head, which is saying a lot, because you have quite a noggin' on you.  You are so stinking cute I can hardly stand it.  People swoon over you wherever we go.  You look just like your Daddy.

You took your first trip to the ER at seven months.  Chloe accidentally snipped your finger with scissors, and you ended up with three stitches.  You were such a good boy at the hospital.  You hardly cried at all.  The doctor was in shock.  He said if every baby was like you that the anesthesia department would be out of business.  You are my sweet boy.

Here are your seven and eight month pictures.

Seven Months

Eight Months

 

Abram - 6 Months

At his six month well baby visit Abram weighed in at 18 lbs 1 oz (65th percentile), was 27 and 3/4 inches long (90th percentile), and had a head circumference of 18 inches (90th percentile).  He had 3 shots, and he screamed his little head off when he got them.  Poor guy.  He is a little behind the curve in the fact that he isn't sitting up on his own, but he is doing well with everything else.  He can roll both ways, hold his head and chest up on his own, play with objects, transfer objects, etc.  Also, he appears to have excellent hearing.  He is cooing and laugh, laugh, laughing all of the time. 

I started Abram on solids at 5 months and at 6 months he is eating up a storm.  I think it is funny how I started Chloe on solids exactly at 6 months.  But even then, honestly, I don't think she was ready for solids.  Abram, on the other hand, was practically born ready.  He opens his mouth just like a baby bird, and he eats so fast I can hardly keep up with him.  He gets so pissed if I don't have the next bite ready and waiting for him.  Another funny thing about solids is how I insisted on making everything Chloe ate.  Though it seriously is the easiest thing ever to make baby food, it is also very time consuming.  This time around I am choosing to spend my very limited spare time NOT making baby food, and I couldn't be happier.  I just dump some commercial rice cereal in a bowl and then dump a jar of baby food on top of that, stir, and serve. (It is all still organic, of course.  Geesh, what did you think this was my third kid?)  He doesn't know the difference and is happy as a clam!  So far Abram has had 10-15 different foods including baby puffs and Mum Mums.

I'm writing this post a little late and so I'm trying not to contaminate Abram's 7 month sleeping patterns with his perfect little 6 month sleeping patterns.  It seems like his whole sleeping peacefully like an angel through the night thing was ruined with that week of July 4th when the weather mirrored that of a very fat, sweaty armpit.  Oh, we were so miserable.  We are still so miserable!  Abram loves to be swaddled in his favorite soft blanket, but the central air in our 1920's vintage house doesn't do the best job cooling the second floor. At six months Abram still kicks his legs and arms all over the place when we put him to bed, so we were torn on whether to just let him scream there flailing about or to swaddle him up in a very warm blanket despite the 90 degree heat.  Neither option proved well and good, so many nights we ended up sleeping as a family in our basement.  We still haven't recovered from Abram's restless nights, which were followed by a mysterious illness and a "monster" takeover in Chloe's room.  More on all of that later.  I think we are all a little tired these days.

Abram is wearing 9-12+ month clothing and size 3 diapers.  He has big, deep blue eyes and dark skin - just like his sister (and daddy).  I was scolded for his tan head at his well baby visit.  I try to keep him out of the sun as best I can, but my kids just soak up the rays.  They don't seem to burn, which is lovely for them.  My vampire skin burns in the sun. 

Abram loves his jumparoo.  He jumps so aggressively in it that we fear he is going to knock it over.  He loves Chloe more than anything in the world.  She just has to look at him and he lights up.  She just has to speak to him and he laughs.  He watches her wherever she goes, and he gets so mad when she leaves the room.  I think he is mentally ready to crawl, run, and jump, but physically he just can't do it yet.  Lately he has been getting so mad that he can't play alongside his sister.  I often give Abram a bath with Chloe, which he really loves.  He is going to hate it when he is older and he finds out that Chloe loves to "help" with everything, including "washing Abram's penis."  Sorry, bud.  I try to stop her, but she has managed to sneak a few washes in here and there.  She has the best of intentions.

Abram got a mysterious rash this month, and we aren't sure if it was a heat rash or an allergic reaction to prunes.  I haven't tried the prunes again, and have been trying to keep him out of the heat as much as possible.  I should just try the prunes again, because staying inside the whole summer is really getting old.

What else about Abram?  He is super tickelish.  I just poke his little ribs and he giggles so hard.  He likes chilling his pink Bumbo seat, being outside, hanging in his Baby Bjorn carrier, playing with toys, being held, eating, pacifiers, blankies, holding his own baba, and just being talked to.  He hates loud noises.  Hates, hates, hates them!  He sticks his little bottom lip out so far and then just starts wailing whenever he is startled by a loud noise.

Here are some pics at 6 months (plus 2 weeks, maybe).

Do I like helicopter leaves?

YAK! No, no I do not.

Adventures in Gymnastics

You know how right after you have a baby you are like there is no effing way on God's green Earth I am ever having another baby ever!!, and then after a few weeks of squirting your lady parts with a water bottle and a blast of Dermoplast every single time you pee, one jumbo sized package of maxi pads (which, you discover are now made super thin like diapers, but not before you have used a whole bag of the super thick pillow-like pads and you are filled with a white rage because why the hell are they still making super fat, uncomfortable maxi pads when there are super skinny ones that are just as effective), and two trips to the doctor later (once because you are certain you popped a stitch, because, seriously, it is not supposed to look like that, and once to hear that it is totally fine to have sex because it has been 6 magical weeks, but that it is also totally fine to tell your husband the doc said to wait 3 more weeks just to be safe wink wink, nudge nudge) you forget all the hell you went through and think to yourself I could totally have another baby.  THAT is how I felt about Chloe's first parent-tot gymnastics class.

I mean, I know it is mostly my fault for daydreaming about Chloe competing on the 2024 summer Olympic gymnastics team.  I might have set the standards pretty high.  Forgetting my child's personality completely, I for some reason envisioned Chloe following along with the coach step-for-step, taking every command seriously and executing each exercise with precision.  Forgetting that we would be stepping into a dreamland of trampolines, foam pits, and balancing beam thingies, I foolishly expected Chloe to stay within the confines of the "preschool" area.  In true Chloe fashion, she behaved like maniac from the minute we started warm-ups.  Check out this video evidence.  I would specifically like to point out the small child in the background who is following along like all of the other kids and Chloe's spectacular jump-flip at the very end of the video.

I'm not saying that I want Chloe to be submissive or shy or any less awesomely awesome.  I just would have appreciated if even one other kid would have acted like an asshole just once.  Instead, that teacher, Miss Lippy, would chime "criss-cross applesauce" and every single kid would drop to the floor and sit Indian-style.  In the meantime my kid was giving her the middle finger as she ran off to jump in a foam pit. 

At the end of the day Chloe loved her gymnastics class.  She wasn't afraid to do anything.  In fact, she wanted to do everything.  She did flips on the bars, attempted a cartwheel, jumped in foam pits, swung from a rope, whizzed down the balance beam, and just generally had maybe the best time of her life.  And even though I had to carry her literally kicking and screaming out the door I feel ready to do it again next week.

Chloe and the red balloon before she ripped it off of the string and sent it flying to the ceiling effectively crushing the hopes and dreams of the three remaining children in the class.

Next week I will adjust my expectations from Olympics to the basic act of listening.  Also, I will come prepared with a sports bra and full-on workout clothes to keep up with the maniac that is my daughter - my mini-me.

Abram - 5 Months

At five months Abram has found a new hobby in self-worship.  He loves looking at the handsome baby in the mirror.  Sometimes we just pass by a mirror for a quick second and I catch him flashing himself a giant smile.  More notably, Abram has started his life-long relationship relationship with - what else? - his penis.  His favorite time of the day is bath time.  Although, I like to recognize it for what it really is: personal penis squeezing time.  I am not joking about this.  The second I put that little naked baby in the tub his hand goes south and he laughs and laughs.  Abram loves his bath so much that every night at 7:00 p.m. he starts fussing.  It is like he can't go without touching his penis for more than 24 hours!  Joking aside, I love giving Abram a bath.  He is just so happy chilling in the tub.  He would stay there as long as I let him just cooing and smiling up at me.  Bath time has done wonders for his skin, too.  I have been using Eucerin body wash followed by Eucerin body cream immediately after the bath.  His skin has completely cleared up and is now soft and smooth.  No more itchies! 

Abram's favorite person is Chloe.  She gave him his first belly laugh and she makes him belly laugh on a daily basis.  All she has to do is walk in the room and he smiles.  To get him to laugh she just jumps in a circle or says "googoo, gaga."  She is pretty funny, but he thinks she is hysterical.  He also happens to think that I am very funny.  I can get him laughing by just saying "hi" or by laughing myself.  Paul gets him laughing by tickling him, but he laughs so hard then that he ends up doing a laugh/squeal that ends in the hiccups. 

Abram's favorite place to hang is in the Baby Bjorn.  I picked it up at a garage sale for $40 and I don't know where we would be without it.  He loves to face out in it and smile at people whenever he can.  People are always saying how cute he is, because he is always grinning from ear to ear. 

Abram rolled from back to front on May 21.  He rolled from front to back a few days later, but catching him in the act is rare.  This is mainly because he rarely flips over on to his tummy since he realized that he hates it.  When he rolls over he ends up just lying there complaining about it.  There are no signs of him crawling anywhere any time soon.  He does love bouncing in his jumparoo and sitting up in his pink Bumbo seat.  He also loves trying to bounce himself out of his pink chair.

Chloe never seemed ready for solid food, and she choked on it for a good month or two before she was able to get the hang of it.  Abram, on the other hand, has been competing with Griffin for the longest steak stare-down at dinner time.  Abram just couldn't wait to get his hands on some real food.  I've been saying that his first food was organic rice cereal mixed with (super far from organic) breastmilk.  We gave that to him right at five months; however, about a week before that Chloe, Paul, and I were enjoying a round of red, white, and blue Country Fresh popsicles on a hot summer night right in front of Abram when it dawned on me that we were being awfully rude.  You could see that he could practically taste our delicious treat!  I surprised myself when I gave Paul the go-ahead to give Abram a taste.  My, how my nerves have calmed with baby #2!  The crazy books I read with Chloe would have had me convinced that Abram would turn into a giant hive within seconds of slurping the devil's candy!! 

Abram is still breastfed and I'm fortunate that I haven't yet had the need to supplement with formula.  He takes the bottle or breast and has started holding his bottle when he eats.  He never usually eats more than 5 ounces.  He can get his pacifier into his mouth and can reach for his toys.  It is funny to watch him experiment with depth perception.  Sometimes you see him grabbing for something and he is off by about six inches. 

With regard to sleeping, he takes two naps a day - one shorter and one longer.  I breastfeed him at night and let him fall asleep doing it.  I haven't even thought once to Google how this is going to mess him up in the future.  I don't even care at all this time!  Once he is asleep I pop his paci in his mouth, take him up to his crib, and swaddle him up in a soft blanket my Mom made for him.  Yes, I wrap him in a blanket.  Past Cassie says, "GASP!  A blanket?!"  He loves his blanket, and I'm certain it is going to be with him until he goes to summer camp and is forced to leave it at home in fear of what his friends will think.  We have had him wrapped in that blanket from day one, because his arms and legs are always moving and he can't sleep without being partially constrained.  But there is something magical about that soft, cozy blanket.  We've tried to go without, but there is just no way.

Chloe slept on her tummy at nap and bedtime from the minute she could roll over on her tummy until she was about 18 months old.  There was just no stopping her.  Every time I put her in her crib she would roll over and I would pat her butt.  You always had to pat her butt.  I think it is a colicy baby thing.  Anyway, I would pat her butt lighter and ligher, slower and slower until I could tip-toe out of the room.  Abram, on the other hand, I lie him down on his back, wrap up his body and legs really tightly in his blanket and then hold his crazy arms down against his chest.  It takes him a few seconds to fall asleep and then I gently release his arms and tip-toe out of the room.  Funny kids.

I think that is a decent update for now.  I failed to take Abram's official 5 month pictures.  Sorry, bud.

Abram - 4 Months

At four months Abram still isn't rolling over!  While he is a little behind his sister in that department he makes up for it in size!  At his four month appointment Abram weighed in at 15 lbs 13 oz (55th percentile), was 26.5 inches long (90th percentile), and had a head circumference of 17 inches (75% percentile).  He is super close to rolling over, but he just can't get over his arm.  He doesn't really love being on his tummy anyway, so I can see why he wouldn't want to roll over.  Chloe, on the other hand, spent the first four months of her life trying to get to her tummy.  Once she was able to roll over I don't think she slept on her back again until she was two.  That is what happens when you have a gassy belly. 

Abram still has a terrible case of eczema.  He has it all over the backs of his legs and arms and on the back of his head.  Abram's skin is so sensitive that last week Paul held him after using shaving cream and Abram got huge, raised finger-print rashes all over his body.  Sometimes when Abram is sleeping he will trash his head back and forth really quickly.  I was so worried about him at first, but then I noticed that he had huge scabs on the back of his head from the eczema.  He was trying to scratch them!  I feel so bad for the little guy.  I always thought that fewer baths were better for people with sensitive skin, but the doctor told us that the new opinion is to bath often and slather body cream all over the body.  So at four months our new routine will consist of a nightly bath and unscented body cream - the kind that leaves you feeling all greasy, because it is nearly impossible to rub in. 

This is called a "Boppy Bottle" and it is Dada's method of giving Abram a bottle.  It knocks him out every time!

Abram still has a goober eye from his plugged tear duct.  The doc still advises to wait it out until he is a year old.  I sounded like a first time parent at Abram's appointment.  I have been really worried about Abram's sporadic arm and leg movements.  I feel like Chloe had more control of her body at this age.  The doctor said he is totally fine and is just trying to figure out how to work his arms and legs.  I don't know if I totally trust her, but I'm going to keep myself from Googling anything in the near future.  Anyway, he had two more shots and the doctor said he looks great!

Abram is starting to show signs of being afraid of strangers.  He loves mostly everyone, but then once in a blue moon a stranger will startle him and he will scream bloody murder.  It is crazy!!  He is such a happy little guy, but some people just rub him the wrong way.  Also, he gets very startled by loud noises.  I have some experience with this since I'm often yelling at Chloe while she climbs all over me as I attempt to feed Abram.  Every time I yell at her Abram freaks out.  He also cries when he hears the lawn mower or if a pan were to crash to the floor.

At four months Abram is smiling, giggling (so cute!), cooing, trying to roll over, holding his head up like a champ, sitting in his Bumbo, showing the first signs at an attempt to crawl, and drooling all over the place.  He still breastfeeds, but sometimes prefers the bottle.  I'm not sure if I will be able to feed him strictly breast milk until he is a year old since he is getting really hungry lately, but I'm going to try.  We'll start solids at six months, so that should help.

That Peaceful Moment of Clarity

Some evenings I swear Chloe and Abram call a meeting to discuss how best to torment me.  Chloe, first you take an entire 24 pack of Popsicles into the living room.  I'll shit all the way up my back and stick my hands in it.  That should buy you enough time to eat two before she catches you.  Then, when she takes the box away, you throw a temper-tantrum.  Cry for so long that you forget what you are crying about.  Stick your bottom lip out as far as it will go and ask for a hug when you are done so that she forgets she was mad.  Ask her sweetly if you can watch an episode of Sponge Bob Pear Pear, your favorite show.  I'll be hungry by then so I'll start crying right when you ask.  This will help her decide against her better judgement.  While you watch Pear Pear I'll be extra cute while I eat my food.  I'll hold my mouth open like a bird and then pretend to chew.  It'll practically kill her.  God, I'm cute.  Mom will probably turn the TV off after one episode, because Pear Pear puts you in a foul mood.  Throw a huge temper-tantrum even if you aren't mad about it.  You've set a precedent, and now you have to stick to it.  When you are done you'll probably have to poop.  But don't tell Mama.  Do that thing where you sneak into the bathroom and take a huge dump in less than three seconds.  Don't wipe.  You never do.  Put your underwear back on inside-out and backwards and leave poopy-tracks on Dora's face.  That's hilarious.  Or,  you can just leave them off and run around the house with poop on your butt until she catches you.  That's funny, too.  Either way, you can't lose.  I won't tell on you as long as you come over and jump in circles in front of me.  Stop every now and then and say "goo goo, ga ga," and boy will I laugh.  I'll laugh so hard I'll get the hiccups, which will really piss me off... and it goes on and on.

These are the nights I check the clock about seventeen times.  I often find myself taking the kids up an hour early for a bath at 6:30 p.m.  After I yell at Chloe 15 times for drinking the bath water that her brother peed in, after Chloe screams bloody murder because she got a drop of water in her eyes and, "my eyes, my eyes, MY EYEEEEES!!!," and after Abram squeezes his own penis so hard he makes himself cry, it happens.  I have this amazing moment.  After all of that chaos and crying and laughing I have this peaceful moment of clarity. 

It starts when I cuddle Abram up to me for his final feeding of the day.  I wipe the little crusties from his eye.  He stops eating to look up at me.  He smiles.  He goes back to eating and I smile as he blissfully falls asleep.  I don't even care this time around that breastfeeding him to sleep is a bad habit.  We won't have this time for long.  I know this time to appreciate it.  I put him in his crib where, like an angel, he will sleep the remainder of the night.  I move on to Chloe. 

If she has her way I've taken her to bed.  Brush your teeth, go potty, two stories, a song, and a prayer are Daddy's rules, but she knows she can hold me hostage for much longer.  Two books always turns into four, six, eight.  I lose count.  I read her a story and then she reads one to me.  I love to just lie there with her in her big girl bed.  It is there that I notice her special characteristics.  Sometimes I see something new, and it's like God is letting me in on a little secret.  I love the way her hair falls in her face.  It tickles, so she sticks out her lips and wriggles her nose a bit.  Then, in a grand gesture, she sweeps her hair behind her shoulder with her hand.  She does it over and over again, because the fan keeps blowing her hair in her face.  I'd stop it if I weren't so damn mesmerized.  I love her soft voice.  It's always been soft, and sometimes you have to be completely still to hear what she is saying.  My favorite sound in the entire world is the sound of her reading books.  She flips the pages so carefully, deliberately.  She looks at every detail on the page and then quietly, thoughtfully, tells the story she sees.

Sometimes she sees me lying there nearly comatose.  She'll reach out, pat my face, and say, "Shhh, Mama.  Close your eyes."  Then she starts singing, "Twinkle, twinkle little star..."  Just like I do to her.  She'll ask me to sleep with her in her bed.  Or maybe we can go sleep in Mama's bed?  "You.  And me?  You.  And me?" she'll ask.  She knows I'm a sucker for pronouns.  I consider it, too, except going to sleep on her own - in her own bed - and staying put the entire night seems like the one thing we are doing totally right as parents.  And even that is up for discussion. 

So, I break free from my two-year-old hypnotist.  We say our prayers and I always, every night, give my most genuine and sincere thanks to God, though it seems futile.  For my blessings are too many to count.     

Our First Conversation

Last weekend I took the kids home to meet their newest baby cousin.  On Saturday night Chloe wanted my Dad to take her up to bed.  Of course, he obliged.  He is wrapped so tightly around Chloe's finger that there was no other choice. 

After reading her about five more books than I ever would have he nearly had her asleep when all of a sudden there was a loud BOOM outside.  It scared Chloe, and she jumped into my Dad's arms.  He brought her downstairs to see what made the noise.  It turns out that a car had backfired and broke down outside of our house.  We explained to her that it was just a car making noise. 

Later that night she woke up, wandered into the bathroom, and started crying.  I was feeding Abram, so I couldn't immediately come to her rescue.  My Dad heard her crying, came upstairs, helped her go to the bathroom, and then took her back to bed.  He slept with her the rest of the night.  Fast forward to last night.

I sat on the couch in the basement and Chloe sat on the end table.  She was kicking her legs, alternating from left to right.  She had helped herself to an Izze sparkling juice just moments before having a seat.  I sat there watching her slurp on her "pop," put it down, slurp, down, slurp, down, when she started telling me a story. 

Chloe: I was crying in Papa's bathroom.  Slurp.

Me: Why were you crying?

Chloe: I was crying in Papa's bathroom.  I said "Waaaaah!"  Slurp.

Me: I remember.  Why were you crying?  Were you scared?

Chloe: Yeah.  I was scared.  Car made a loud noise.  Went BOOM!  Slurp.

Me: That's right.  Then Papa came upstairs.

Chloe:  Papa slept with Chloe.  All better.  I want to see Papa! 

Slurp, down, slurp, down, slurp, down.

I just sat there staring at her.  I couldn't believe my eyes.  I couldn't believe my ears.  I didn't know why she was crying in the middle of the night.  She didn't tell us.  But here she was a few days later just telling me all about it.  Like we were old friends.   

I wanted to dive across the couch and scoop her up, but I didn't want our conversation to end.  I know it was just a conversation about a loud noise that made her cry.  It was hardly a conversation at all.  But it was our first real conversation.  One that I didn't have to initiate.  One that wasn't about Dora or Knuffle Bunny.  It was about something that actually happened to her - a few days ago, even - that made a lasting impression on her memory.  Not only did it make an impression, but she was able to communicate her thoughts to me.  Is it just my post-pregnancy hormones, or is that just so cool?