Ok maybe that was dramatic. But my baby is one today. And it is amazing and sad and wonderful and unbelievable.
I keep recounting the events of this day last year. It is so funny now. I remember my water "breaking" (nothing like what I was told it would be like) and me not knowing that was happening, and me not mentioning it to my husband, and me going back to sleep... and finally getting up a few hours later and flittingly mentioning it to my sister... who through some investigation found out my water had broken...
Still wasn't convinced... finally called the doctor (we are at a full 4 hours now after water had broken)... patiently waiting their call back... about the time I go to work I get a call that tells me to go to the hospital and get checked... still don't call husband... nurse confirms water broke... still don't call husband... Around noon I finally ask the nurse if I should call family... she acts weird about it... I rephrase the question to "Am I having a baby today?" She says yes. I finally call my husband.
I was CONVINCED this was a false alarm. I was scared to death of a c-section basically my entire life. When they tell me I have to have a c-section... I was like, "Ok, sounds good." It didn't hit me that I had a baby until I was in the room with him alone, after all the family had gone home.
So in order to not repeat myself too much from previous posts, I will share some super cute videos of my now one year old son.
This video is of Sam insisting upon sharing his bottle with me. Warning: there is a considerable amount of sound interference with it. It isn't terrible but slightly annoying.
This video is one of two parts (you'll get both). Sam finds sneezing hilarious. Just watch...
Those videos crack me up!
As of one year, my son can:
Army crawl
Regular crawl
Stand supported
Pull up on things
Walk supported
Push a walker (lion thing)
Say: Dada, mama, pawpaw, ball, bye bye, thank you, and huh?
Point
Wave
He also completely knows what "no" means and is already a charmer. When he gets into something he isn't supposed to (Wii games for instance), you say, "NO SAM!" and he looks at you, then grabs one, hands it to you, and grins really big, as if to say, "But I was getting it for you..." Such a charmer.
We are also officially quitting the bottle. He has no attachment issues so I forsee no problems. The babysitter took it away during the day yesterday and he never missed a beat. I replaced the morning bottle this morning with a sippee and he just took longer eating. No biggie.
He is also into a new phase of NO MORE BABY FOOD! Especially dinners. He wants to feed himself, he wants big kid food to eat for himself, and he is loud about it. It is offensive to offer him baby food. And if he sees you cut it up for him, he doesn't want it. Such a stinker.
Finally, our plans for tonight. Nothing special. He is getting a present from momma and daddy tonight, and probably Gena too (she's family too). He is getting cupcakes at daycare today because he is so loved there and they insist on making them. The real party is Saturday. I'll post lots of pictures when the time comes.
Dear Sam,
You are one year old today. I'm trying really hard to teach you to hold up one finger when someone asks you how old you are. You are unimpressed with doing this as of now. I love your little personality. You are such a joy. Always smiling, laughing, and being goofy. And you are a goof ball! No doubt about it.
When you woke up this morning, your fat little leg was stuck in the crib. You were almost too tired to notice, but when I started to release your leg, you cried some. I felt bad for you and picked you up and you immediately went back asleep on my shoulders.
We went to lay down on the couch and you slept on me for another hour. It was such a special time for me. Because one year ago exactly, that's how you slept as well. I didn't cry this time, but I never want to forget it.
You are the light of my life and I cannot believe I lived 25 years without knowing you. I love you so much!
Momma
Wednesday, January 5, 2011
Thursday, December 30, 2010
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 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?!
Friday, December 17, 2010
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
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.
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.
Saturday, December 4, 2010
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!"
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!"
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)