Christmas Break Catch Up

This may go a bit out of order... I'm fancy like that...

Update on the last two days... Yesterday I come down with a NASTY stomach bug. I quarauntine myself in the back bedroom/bathroom. A few hours later, Justin gets same stomach bug. I call in reinforcements. Mother in law comes over to help us and bring us Gatorade and crackers. Susan (the best babysitter EVER) comes and gets Sam and takes him home with her. Justin and I continue to live in agony.

Hence why I now have time to update. I get stir crazy a bit too easily and I miss my son like CAAARAYYYZZYYYY! So what better way to cure that than to blog about him?

This would be my son's first visit with Santa. He stared like this pretty much the whole time. We finally did get a smiling picture but it isn't as fun as this. I love my little watchful man.

Here he is opening his first Christmas present. He was much impressed with wrapping paper. Minorly impressed with the presents underneath.

Over Christmas break, while at my dad's, my little porker finally figured out how to conjure up his mass of self into a standing position. This is actually the second time he did it. I wasn't quick enough to capture the first time. He is so proud of himself.

I'm sorry... but Christmas bows on babies heads is just precious.

This was also a recurring theme over the break. We were tuckered out.

Him and G are big buddies. G goes around saying, "MAMMY!" and Sam looks at him like he's crazy. And then they play. Spice that up with a little G finding things to use as weapons against Sam and you have their playtime rituals.

Is this not the cutest hat ever?! I think the fat rolls make it better.

This is his official first Christmas photo. Could he be more crammed in that outfit?!

This is my favorite picture from the holidays. Seriously... how cute is he?!

Update for Sam (and you if you must)

Dear Sam,

Your momma loves you very much but she is VERY bad at recording things. This hit me today that I may start forgetting when you did certain things, so I thought I should go ahead and record what I can remember.

First smile: 3 weeks old
Pushed up on arms: 3 1/2 months old
First laugh: I can't remember, but we have it on video. I think that counts.
First cereal: That's on video too. You liked it. We didn't. You didn't poop for days.
First word: As much as it pains me, "Dada" at about 10 months old. Words to follow were "Mama", "Pawpaw", and "Byebye" with a wave. So cute.
First time to put weight on legs: You did this WAY early... you were like 8 weeks old or something ridiculous. We thought that would mean you would walk early. We were wrong. :-)
First time to crawl: That all depends on the definition. 10 1/2 months old to start army crawling (yup its on video). First time to actually crawl was a little over 11 months old.
First time to pull up: That is so close within reach it is ridiculous. You try so hard but can't quite get it together. You are close though.
First time dancing: SO CUTE! And at 11 1/2 months old.
First real food: It was banana. And you loved it. And we found out today (are at least 95% sure anyway) that you are allergic. You probably had that around 9 1/2 or 10 months old.

There you go. That's what I can remember anyway. I love so much. Words, hugs, and all the ponies in the world could never express how much.

Right now you are asleep in your crib, on your side, on top of the blanket. You are very particular how you sleep, but it changes from night to night. If I don't lay you down right, you grunt, scrunch up your face, and quickly remedy the situation; whether that be to stick your butt straight in the air and put the blanket over your head (my favorite), or roll over on your side and hug the blanket, or to simply turn upside down in the crib and remain on your side, I can garauntee that you will be fervent about getting there.

I love you so much. You have been the biggest blessing your daddy and I could ever have imagined.

Hugs and kisses,

Momma

List of Things I Love

1) Eggs. I freaking love eggs. My favorite is eggs over medium... but I haven't found an egg today that I don't like. Funny story from childhood (or a story explaining why diets will never be a part of my vocabulary):
My dad was making breakfast for me, my sister, and my two cousins one morning (I don't know where mom was but she wasn't cooking or this wouldn't have been an issue).
Dad asks, "Dale how many eggs do you want?"
I said, "Four."
He said, "What? You can't eat four eggs."
I said, "I do when mom makes them."
He said, "Why don't we start with two and see if you are still hungry."
So I ate my two eggs and looked up at dad and said, "Can I have two more?"

I. Love. EGGS!

2) I LOVE my son's chubby little grin! I know everyone loves their child's smile, but it doesn't take away how much I love his smile! It is because he has a different smile for each aspect of his personality. He has his "You just got on to me but if I grin real big you'll forgive me" smile. He has his "Look at what I can do" smile. He has his "You are so funny" smile. He has his "I am so funny" smile. And finally, and possibly my favorite, the "I'm doing something super cute with mom, but I better look over real quick and make sure dad is watching too" smile. He's all ate up with precious.

3) I love cookies and milk. Like... enough that I have to seriously limit the amount of Oreos and chocolate chip cookies that enter my household. If I don't, I will inevitably have this conversation with myself:

Good self: "You should eat breakfast."
Bad self: "There are Oreos in the cabinet."
Good self: "That is a terrible breakfast idea."
Bad self: "But it would taste so good, and would technically fill me up."
Good self: "And your butt will look like cottage cheese and jello got in a fight."
Bad self: (with cookies shoved in face) "Bu at weest umm habbin miwk fo bwek fas!"

4) Foot and shoulder massages. I could give a good rat's crap about any other type of massage. But rub my feet and shoulders and I'll tell you all my secrets. And give you one of my cookies.

5) Starbucks owns a portion of my soul, I'm sure of it. Seriously, think about it. The owner of Starbucks is a terrorist. He's waiting patiently on all the Americans to spend all their money on coffee (that HAS to have crack in it), develop a dependency, and then BAM! no more delicious Starbucks in my belly, Sarah Palin will be President, and well... who needs bombs and airplanes when all the Americans are going through withdrawals and Purgatory Palin is in office? I mean really?

6) Lastly... sleep! omgomgomgomgomgomgomg... If I am ever President, I'm making naps mandatory. You don't want a nap? You sleep with the fishies.

I have no desire to stay up late talking to you. I'd like to stay up to a reasonable hour, sleep, then continue our conversation in the morning. I have been this way my whole life.

I'd spend the night with my cousins and at some point they'd all wonder, "Where'd Dale go?" They'd find me in bed. Asleep. No amount of playing or scary stories could keep me from my beloved sleep.

Bubby is Back! (Warning: Post is LONG)

This could go down as one of the hardest weeks of my life. I realize that in the grand scheme of life it could have been much worse... but watching your child not get any nutrition and not being able to do anything about it (while people keep reminding you that you should be worried)... I'm sure that it's my own version of hell. (Like literally... I'm sure that if Satan has me a spot reserved in hell... that's what I'd have to endure).

I'm just going to write in the order that things happened...

Tuesday he was sick all day long basically. And at night he would refuse any liquids. Great. We debated and debated and debated whether he should go to the emergency room. We cried. We prayed. We repeated this cycle. I knew in my gut he was fine. The whole time he has been sick he has played and smiled and giggled. He just won't eat or won't keep it down. At this point, he hadn't wet a diaper in two days. (I dare you to comment on that).

I knew that it was a warning sign of dehydration, but he had gone to the doctor the day before and he told me how to hydrate him and not to worry. I called him Monday night to verify that it was still okay. He said, yes, put him to bed and try again in the morning. He did good eating all day Tuesday but started refusing liquids at night again and still hadn't wet. I couldn't get a hold of his doctor so I called the nurses line. Big. Mistake.

This is not to bash nurses. I loves me some nurses. They save lives and do a thankless job in the mean time. However, the nurses that work the nurses line MUST get commission on every baby they send to the ER. They have to. I realize that not wetting a diaper is a serious thing. I get that. But this lady wouldn't even answer other questions because, "Well I have to tell you that he needs to be seen." And every time I have called the damned nurses line, their advise is "he needs to be seen."

Has he ever needed to be seen right then? No. Not one time. Bitches. (Disclaimer: I know that being sued is a big deal, but to an anxious, worried mom, my worry of you getting sued is pretty freaking low.)

So Wednesday rolls around and he does good all day long. He eats well and keeps it down for the most part. But the afternoon comes by and I got overzealous and fed him a little too much. He threw up. He still hadn't wet. I took him to the doctor.

Doc sees him and says, "he is not dehydrated. He may be on the verge, but he is happy, and smiling, and playing... that is not a dehydrated baby." THANK YOU! I KNEW THAT! IN YOUR FACE FAT LADY NURSE!

I left out a very important part of Wednesday... I have the best babysitter in the world. Want to argue differently? I dare you. I will win. Huzzah to Susan... she rocks.

Susan calls me and says he and her youngest son were coming over to see us. (How sweet is that?! She knew I needed a break, she loves Sam so much she had to see him, and her youngest loves him so much he refers to himself as Sam's uncle or stepdad... depends on the day). So... they came over and Susan says, "Well we are planning on staying until 2 pm so if you need to go do something, go on."

My babysitter kicked me out of my own house... and I loved it. Shut. Up. I win all!

So I go out to my car to go pick out Sam's and Justin's ornaments, and what do I find?! Some thug stole my radio... again. This is twice now. Awesome.

At least they didn't break my windows to get in. Know why? I left the car unlocked. That's right. Because it was such a pain in the butt to fix the window and replace the radio last time I figured just leave the window unlocked and save the window hassle. Know what? I don't regret it. There were at least two other places in the parking lot with shattered glass... they would have taken it either way.

He did pretty good Wednesday night so I made plans to take him to daycare for Thursday. Susan was excited and I was nervous. But he did so good! He threw up once there but it was again because we got cocky with the formula and fed too much at once. Other than that, he did good. AND HE WET HIS DIAPER! Now all the naysayers can back off.

Friday he played hard. HARD! I went to pick him up and he was so tired. Susan told me he was going to go to sleep as soon as we got home. I asked if he didn't sleep well. She said, "Well... we were just having to much fun to nap. He played so hard!"

So alas, my healthy baby boy is back! And I couldn't be happier!

Meanwhile, yesterday I got the house COMPLETELY clean (with the help of one Gena) and I climbed Pinnacle Mountain, to the top, for the first time! This is after 3 tries. Best part of this story? That would be me slipping and falling and instead of just accepting, I tried to grab Gena on the way down. How she managed to not fall is beyond me because I grabbed her sports bra on the way down. Her reply?

"I'M NOT A TREE RIKKI!"