One Fish, Two Fish

Stop The Presses! January 30, 2009

Filed under: Mom and Dad,Month Eight,Random Acts of Kindness,Sam — leighnut @ 2:29 pm

Sam drank three ounces from a bottle. I know! It’s so exciting!! I think he liked the fact that he could do it himself. He’s very independent.

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Looking for Spring January 27, 2009

Filed under: Month Eight,Photo,Sam — leighnut @ 1:11 am

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The Hat! The Hat!

Filed under: Knit Wit,Mom and Dad,Month Eight,Photo,Sam — leighnut @ 1:05 am

Here’s the rainbow hat. I just finished the topper tonight and sewed it on. Sewing is a loose term I use to identify the invented technique I used to secure the squiggles to the top of the hat. It’s a little big, as you’ll see, because I made the 2 year old size, not knowing how big it was going to be. OK, stop typing, Kristin, and show the cute pictures! 🙂

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They Call Me… Mister Bibs January 24, 2009

Filed under: Goofball,Month Eight,Photo,Sam — leighnut @ 12:20 am

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It’s The Fatigue Talking

Filed under: Mom and Dad,Month Eight — leighnut @ 12:16 am

Conversations from the middle of the night, neither of which are remembered by the sleeping person:

It’s 3 a.m. Kristin wakes up patting the bed frantically and searching under the covers.
Rob wakes up, sees what she is doing and says: “Kristin, you put him in the crib.”
Kristin: I did WHAT?!?

Another night, 3 a.m. Kristin has been up with Sam since 11:30 p.m. Rob has been sleeping and snoring during that time. When Kristin finally returns to bed, having gotten Sam to sleep, Rob is pulling the back of his shirt up.
R: Can you scratch my back a little?
K: What?
R: Can you scratch my back? I’ve hardly slept at all.
K: [scratches back]
R: I’m just trying to help…
K: Help what?
R: Help me go to sleeeeep!

 

Crawl Master Flash January 20, 2009

Filed under: Mom and Dad,Month Eight,Neurotic,Sam — leighnut @ 2:52 pm

You know how I said that 2009 was going to be the year of baby bumps and bruises? I’ve got that one in the bag already. Sam has fallen and hit his body (head, mostly) on so many hard objects lately that I can’t count them anymore. (Oh, and I’ve learned that the more tired he is, the more he falls. Seems rather elementary, but this parenting thing has a bit of a learning curve. 🙂 ) “Be more diligent in watching him,” you may say. Yes, that’s true, there are times when I should have been right there with him to help. But for the most part, these falls are during activities that he has mastered. For example, he is a pro at pulling himself up to his feet on the coffee table. We even got those foamy corner covers, because his preference is to stand up using the corners as leverage. He can pull himself up and stand there forever, bouncing and grabbing stuff off the table. But yesterday, he was on his hands and knees (another pro-level skill) and just fell over. Into the coffee table shelf. Face first. Oh, did he scream. He has a very nice scrape on his left cheek as his prize. Maybe this is naive, but I don’t think I should have been right down on the floor with him while he’s crawling. He’s a master crawler! (It’s not like I was letting him try to crawl up the stairs by himself.) I think I just need to suck it up and realize that he’s going to bump and scrape himself once in a while.

In the mean time, a snuggle and a distraction goes a long way with a wailing baby.

 

Seconds January 18, 2009

Filed under: Hospital Life,Mom and Dad,Month Eight,Neurotic — leighnut @ 1:39 pm

Last week, I slept in one of the tank tops that I wore while I was in the hospital at the beginning of my bed rest adventure. I hadn’t worn it, let alone looked at it, since Sam was born. Putting it on and seeing myself in it brought so many memories and feelings back from that time in the hospital. That was the tank I was wearing when the doctor said I would have to stay in the hospital until Sam was born. It was the tank I was wearing watching “Sex and the City” at two in the morning, because I couldn’t sleep. It was the top that I rested beverages on, using my big belly as a little table. It, in two colors, was the shirt I saw myself in every day for 19 days, standing there staring at myself in the hospital mirror after a shower. My one activity for the day.

It’s been weird thinking about how scary that time was, not knowing if I was going to make it to 36 weeks, wondering if Sam would require a stay in the NICU, just not knowing what the future was going to bring. It seems almost surreal to look back on that time now. Now, when things are so wonderful and perfect. If not for that tank top, the familiar feel of it, I would maybe pause for a second and wonder if that wasn’t someone else. Just for a second.