Adrenaline Junkie

I have been fruitlessly snapping dozens of pictures trying to capture a smile on Nate's face. For weeks now, he has been smiling at faces and toys. He grins in the bathtub and coos and smiles in a vain attempt to get the creatures on his mobile to acknowledge his presence. The only thing he won't smile at is the camera. There is my boy, mouth wide open, face nearly split in two, drooling from the sheer intensity of his joy. Lift a camera into view and he adopts a serious scowl, studying the blank glass eye like a foreign invader.

But I beat him. Swindled him with his addiction. Nathan is a fool for the hard stuff. One hundred percent pure, refined crystal adrenaline. Nothing brings a smile to his face faster than a controlled freefall. Snuggled safely in mom or dad's arms, plunging toward the floor can evince a chortle of delight. A sound as if he is choking on his happiness. "More" he calls in babyspeak - a message impossible to mistake. And more and more he got.

And the camera snuck in unnoticed.
Click!!!

The Green Movement

Perhaps a new energy plan for our president????

Chomp! - An Evolution

1 week - very loose and covers hands completely

3 weeks - still loose, hands mostly covered

5 weeks - hands out, still bunchy

7 weeks - getting tight

This is my favorite outfit that Nathan has. Dave and I bought it before he was even born, calling the green stripes "gender neutral" and insanely entertained by the alligator saying "Chomp!"

Nate has worn it and worn it and worn it some more. And if I needed proof, besides the occasional backache, that my baby is growing, here it is. Over the course of his short life it has gone from twice his size and swallowing his tiny hands to tight. So tight, in fact, that when I put it on him the other day I realized he couldn't fully stretch out his little legs because the suit was too short.

Short it may have been, but because mommy stubbornly refused to believe her baby could be outgrowing newborn clothes, he wore it all day.

And then I washed it.

I stopped short of hanging it back up in the closet, though. I'm not going to put it on him again. He has other cute things and I've always been a comfort over fashion girl anyway. It's draped over the edge of the crib, serving as a moment to moment reminder that he's growing up.

I want him to grow up. The alternatives are too painful to contemplate. I want him to walk and talk and go to college and have a little squeaker of his own. But I know when he walks he'll walk away from me. When he talks he'll argue. And what if he goes to USC? What do we do then?

I can imagine college. I can imagine high school and a wedding. All those things are so far in the future, they are easy to imagine. What my mind's eye just cannot see, is this.

The day this Chomp! suit - sized 9 months - fits my baby.

That's too close. It's hazy. Sitting up, rolling, over, crawling. All so close that I can't see it because I don't see how we get from here to there. Daddy went away for 36 hours and came home to a boy who is noticeably more vocal. One day will be the day he rolls over. Yesterday he couldn't and today he can. Just like that. But I can't imagine it. I don't try too hard because I am spending my energy storing pictures in my heart so when these precious moments are replaced by new precious moments I will not have lost anything.

Every day is the best there ever was and the best there ever could be.

Still, it's hard to say good bye even if you say it with style.

Later Gator!

Springtime for Pittsburgh and Squirrel Hill . . .

Spring is coming to Pittsburgh.

The hyacinth and tulip bulbs in my yard are coming up. The trees are developing that spring green mist that means cool shade is coming.


I'm thrilled. And I have a confession to make.

When Dave and I looked at this house four years ago I could hear the pitter patter of little feet running across the hard wood of the first floor. I could see myself tumbling with a toddler in the grass of our huge backyard. In my mind's eye a two year old was marching purposefully across the driveway "helping" daddy do yard work. And recently I have daydreamed about snuggly naps in the hammock with an infant or a popsicle sticky babe. Dave and I have wandered through Frick park just a couple blocks from our house and planned picnics and walks for sunny days.

I feel like I'm watching my dreams come true. Today I put my son in the stroller with his duck toy and watched him nap while we took an hour long walk with the sun on my shoulders. Soon the trees will have leafed and I will nap in the hammock with the dappled shade on chubby thighs that are NOT mine.

I am blessed. I am thankful. And, man, is he cute or what?!?!?!?!

SuperMom

**Disclaimer** The picture has nothing to do with this story
Several weeks ago, I had to make my 6 week postpartum appointment. I scheduled it for 11:30am thinking that by 6 weeks out, I'd be so much more organized and efficient that it would be no problem to shower get Nathan dressed, fed, feed myself and get through the park by then.
Snort!
I am no more organized, but right now I am feeling a little like SuperMom. I woke up late. Really late. I set an alarm after the 7:30am feeding and curled up in bed with my boy for just 45 more minutes . . . and woke up at 10:30. That' the disorganized part. Here's the Super part. I showered, dressed, did my hair, fed my hungry monster, chugged a glass of water, and ate a breakfast bar and still made it there with 5 minutes to spare.
The shiny sense of accomplishment didn't dull even as I waited, and waited, and finally saw the doctor an hour later.
Of course I couldn't have done it without the cooperation of my son who quietly sang to the animals over his swing while I showered and let me diaper him without and immediate poop and re-change. Sweet, sweet boy.

The picture? Just a gratuitous shot of Nathan wearing wrist rattles. And ignoring them completely.

It's Hard to Be a Boy

This is Nathan's first wearing of a 0-3 months outfit. It's a little big, but no bigger than the newborn clothes were a month ago. Cute, but of course there's a story.

I was changing his diaper and he managed to sneak in a uniquely male wet surprise. Bucking precedent, he manged to miss me altogether and to pee in his own ear. He was, of course, righteously pissed off. I was laughing too hard to intervene.

And all his other clothes were dirty, forcing this move to "big boy" clothes. And boy is he handsome!!!!

Lost Time

I'm tired.
Nathan eats every 2 hours. Sometimes every 90 minutes. And that's timed from the start of one feeding to the start of the next. Take 20 minutes for feeding and another 10 for diaper changing and putting back to sleep, and I haven't slept more than 60-90 minutes at a stretch since January 30. There have been a few freak intervals when he sleeps 2 hours and I wake up feeling like a new woman.
Still, for all that I am tired, I have thought I was doing pretty well.
Last night, however, I lost about 30 minutes.
At 2am I heard the familiar lip smacking and grunting coming from the co-sleeper. I rolled out of bed and into my slippers and across the hall to the nursery and settled into the glider. He latched on, swallowed once and was asleep. Deeply, diaper change proof, limp spaghetti asleep. And no matter what i did, I couldn't get him to eat.
Resignedly, I took him back to the bedroom, knowing I'd be up again in 15-20 minutes when his empty tummy rumbled. Except it had been 30 minutes that I'd been gone, and he slept another 90 minutes, just exactly as if he had been filled with milky goodness.
I am left to conclude that he is not the only one that was asleep. That somehow between his first swallow and my discovery that he was asleep, he fed for 20 minutes while mommy snoozed contentedly.
I appreciate the extra sleep. I am relieved that my limp spaghetti arms did not let him roll to the hardwood floor. And I am just a little sad that I missed the vision captured above. That is how he stretches every time he finishes eating. Back arched, arms going up above his head. And as you can see, he even stretches his little face. I always smile and reward him (or me) with a kiss on his forehead.
But last night I missed it, and that should have been my clue that I'd also lost some time.

Beautiful Boy

This sweet, sweet face is the reason that 3am isn't so dark anymore. The reason a daily shower is a luxury instead of a necessity. The reason eau d' sour milk rivals expensive perfume. It's the reason the house isn't vacuumed and the laundry sits (folded!) in baskets. It's also the reason our house has become Grand Central Station for family and friends and the reason we don't have to entertain when they come. It's a reason to lay on the couch playing with a stuffed giraffe for hours on end, to sing six hundred rounds of "Baby Nathan" to the tune of "Rubber Ducky", and to ignore a cooling meal for the opportunity to play airplane.
Yep. Around here, Nathan is just the Reason. Capital R.
Little else matters. Just him and the relationship Daddy Dave and I had that made us want him in the world.
Welcome Frozone aka Nathan Isaac aka Big Nate aka Squeaker aka Honey Bunny aka Hungry Monster!
We waited anxiously and you have exceeded our highest hopes.