I love my kid, I love my kid, I love my kid, I love my kid...

So, I got basically zero sleep. Anabelle slept just fine. JJ, for God knows why, was all over the bed and couldn't lay still to save his life. Wiggle, turn, kick, toss, cuddle, squirm, "Bud, lay still," or "Back to your own bed, JJ", all freaking night. And of course he's perky and rested, and I feel like warmed-over roadkill.

Wanna know the real kicker? The only computer we have that can cope with Netflix has once again decided that it's not going to play nice. So I can't even stick him in front of an electronic babysitter for the morning.

What I *want* to do is make him sit in an empty Pack & Play with a tray of dry cold cereal, a water bottle, absolutely nothing to do, and spank him every time he wiggles or complains.

Because that's what my parents would do if I had kept them up all night, and that's fair, right? My turn, right?

Because I am not my parents, I will not be putting my 3 year old on the equivalent of lock-down. I will not be slamming doors and muttering imprecations at inanimate objects all day long.

He has a breakfast dray consisting of fruit, a peanut butter sandwich, and sliced lunch meat, which he loves.

He has a pack of crayons and a stack of fresh paper to draw on.

He has a room full of toys and books with which to entertain himself.

And I have explained to him in the clearest possible terms that there is to be no whining, complaining, or fit-throwing today, and that pretty much everything he says to me had best start with the words "Yes, Mommy."

So far, he's doing surprisingly well with that bit.

I'm doing surprisingly well with reminding him when he forgets.

The cats keep trying to trip me, I can hear the hus-beast snoring all the way in the livingroom, the baby is still sound asleep, and oh yeah... the Road Works department decided that our setback was a good spot to put a construction warning sign. Once again I seem to be the only person who knows how to load a dishwasher or put the clean stuff away, and it's a damn good thing there's a crock full of dinner ready to go, because the kitchen's closed today.

*sigh*

I love my kid, I love my kid, I love my kid, I love my kid, I love my kid,
I love my kid, I love my kid, I love my kid, I love my kid, I love my kid,
I love my kid, I love my kid, I love my kid, I love my kid, I love my kid,
I love my kid, I love my kid, I love my kid, I love my kid, I love my kid,
I love my kid, I love my kid, I love my kid, I love my kid, I love my kid,
I love my kid, I love my kid, I love my kid, I love my kid, I love my kid,
I love my kid, I love my kid, I love my kid, I love my kid, I love my kid.

It's not his fault he had trouble sleeping. He can't help it that he was restless. I have restless nights where I toss & turn all night long... or just get up and read a book.

*deeeeeeeeeeeeeep breaths*

We officially have a Toddler.

A toddler who adores making messes and harassing kittens.

*blinks*

When did that happen?????

I was looking at JJ's newborn pictures the other day.  

You know...

These.

 

*sniffle*

Yup.  Looking at those and others and remembering how teeny itty bitty he was... and looking at the twenty-one pound, 28" tall marauder cruising around my living room and wondering how in the heck???

I mean, it's awesome.  Mind-boggling.  But seriously awesome. 

And so, as promised, here is the birthday cuteness.  (Yes, I know it's 8 days later.  Sue me, we were busy!)  And these are just the ones I grabbed with my webcam, folks, there are better pics on the actual camera, but I figured somebody might track me down and strangle me if I made you wait for those!

 The traditional heart-shaped Birthday Cake Pan, here shown 

with evidence that the cake was indeed baked within its confines. 

(No, seriously, my mother has used that pan for birthday cakes 

my ENTIRE LIFE.  I was quite certain that lightning would fall 

from on high if I dared make a plain old rectangle cake.)

"Okay.  I've got a fork.  And a biscuit.  Woopie."

 "Wait just a second... what's that?"

 "Yeah.  I knew Mom wouldn't let me down!"

The traditional singing of the traditional song 

was followed by the traditional destruction of the cake.

"Mmph... Mom... you weren't kidding about this chocolate stuff."

 (Honest, I have pictures on the actual camera while the cake was still 
intact, but I wasn't quick enough to get any with the webcam as well.)

 

 "Yuuuuuuum.  SUGAR!!!!!!!!!!!!"

 The traditional sugar-crazies ensued, and a few hours later...

 

"One..."

 

 "Two..."

"Three... he is DOWN for the COUNT."

He's growing so fast, learning so fast it's almost frightening.  I've always been one who swore up & down that babies are far more intelligent and aware than most grown ups give them credit for, but it takes on a whole new dimension when the baby in question is **yours**.  And it seems to hit a sort of critical mass sometimes where it all balls together, picks up speed, and suddenly every time I turn around he's doing something I've never seen him do before.  Climbing onto a footstool.  Gently petting a kitten (as opposed to whacking it).  Reaching for my hairbrush and using it to awkwardly brush his own hair.  (That one really made my jaw drop!)

The most recent pièce de résistance happened last Friday, just five days after his birthday.  Parents, you know that moment, the times your baby does something that tells you without any shred of doubt that there is a person in there, and that said individual is aware of the stuff you're trying to teach them?  The moment that gives you hope you might have a prayer of raising a civilized, well-mannered little person?  Well, this was a good one.

He signed "milk".  Mind, I have been using "milk" and roughly two dozen other signs with him since birth, mostly as a means to answer that all-important question, "Why are you crying?"  By the time he was three months old, I could run through about a dozen signs, and when I hit the right one, he would stop fussing.  But of course, the goal is to eventually have baby sign back to you, and JJ finally did it!!!!  Independently, without being asked, without my hand over his, and BEFORE he communicated his desire to nurse by yanking down my shirt.  He did this several times over the next hour, very politely coming up to me and signing for "milk", but that first one...

I tell ya, people, I squeee'd like a tween at a Twilight marathon. 

That's my boy... my little explorer... my JJ.

Helpless cooing in 3... 2... 1...

He so rarely lets me get the good snuzzle pics!

So you know those moments (hours... evenings...) where your child suddenly decides that all is right with the world, that 6:45 isn't such an unreasonable bedtime, decides to not only cooperate with the evening routine, but actively help you get it done and smile the whole time?  The rare and miraculous once in a blue moon evenings that tell you, yes, there IS a person in there, and yes, he IS learning, and no, he doesn't hate you for making him go to sleep when it's still light out?

We just had one of those.

In fact, the whole day has been incredibly smooth sailing, despite the atrociously early beginning thereof.

Yeah, JJ decided to get going at quarter past 5 today.  *groan*  Of course, it's tough to complain, because he also slept through from bedtime last night (almost 10.5 hours) with only one wake-up, and that was the post-bedtime top-off feed that I don't usually count anyway.  Once I realized that, well, I decided to stop being irritated about the 5am wake-up call.

Because of the early morning, it turned into a two-nap day, falling neatly into the ideal 2 nap day pattern, and baby was up for the afternoon at 2:30 on the dot, already awake when I went to go get him.

Ate his lunch (pureed squash ... but on toast fingers... yeah, I'm back to purées are EBIL, but that's another post)... drank some water...

Took a good half dozen sorta-maybe steps while clinging to my fingers...

Did NOT freak out during his evening play-time with Grandma (read: mommy's sanity-saving baby-free hour).  Normally he lasts about 40 minutes and then starts freaking out because Grandma is nice but she's NOT MOMMY!!!!

Sat (SAT) in his bath and played happily with his toys for fifteen whole minutes without making me constantly re-sit him.

(Here's the big one) REFUSED TO NURSE IN CLUTCH HOLD AND NURSED TO SLEEP IN CRADLE HOLD INSTEAD.  Y'all have no idea.  He is seven, almost eight months old, almost thirty inches long, and until a month ago was still exclusively nursing in clutch hold.  It's taken the last month to introduce it and for him to realize that it WORKS BETTER, so for him to actively refuse clutch is a huge big honkin' deal in the Nolan household!

So... seriously... who is this perfect little angel and what has he done with my child?????

He's sleeping now, and I'm waiting for the "Mooooooooooooooooooom, I'm still hungry!!!!!!!" cries to start, but I'm hoping a smooth day bodes well for a smooth night and it won't take too long to get him back to sleep.

ETA: Okay, so we're coming up on two hours since bedtime here.  At the hour mark I snuck into the bedroom, reeeeaaaaaal quiet-like, because I hadn't heard JJ fuss for his top-off feed yet.  And what do I find?  A peacefully sleeping baby who has flipped over on his tummy and clearly made it through the transition all. on. his. own.

One more bit of ultimate cuteness...

I can melt now, right?  Okay, just checking.  *melt*

My favorite things...

Admit it.  Every last one of you is singing the song.

But no, I'm not going to inflict a video of my personal rendition upon you.

I'm just popping on between diaper changes to gush a little, and vent a little, and wowzers, have I really almost made it through seven whole months of parent-hood?

My favorite thing about JJ's recent developments has GOT to be his newfound ability to entertain himself in the cosleeper for half an hour in the mornings.  This affords me the unbelievable luxury of waking up slowly, rather than being yanked into consciousness by the shrieking banshee child.

There's also introductions to the puppy-dog, which are going AWESOMELY well.  John was a bit worried about how Lady (our Malamute) would respond to JJ, so he's been very cautious now that we have her back with us.  She is, I am happy to report, being a wonderfully behaved goggie around teh babbeh.  (Yes, I'm speaking lolcat/babytalk, sue me.)  She has shared Mommy-lap with JJ and given him his first doggie face-washing.  The look on his face, y'all, was priceless.  One of those "I need 24/7 video coverage of my entire house and yard" moments.

Despite teething issues, JJ is continuing to sleep decently most nights, thank God.  It's interesting, I can tell how comfy (or not) he is by how many times he wakes up at night to nurse.  Once = comfy baby.  Twice = iffy, might be teeth, might be just wanting to snuggle.  3x or more = Not. A. Happy. Camper.

Kiddo is getting HEAVY... haven't popped him on the scale lately, but I've had to let the waist on his diapers out another notch.  Kid's getting him a little belly.

The other day I ran across some pictures of me at this age, and now I can see how he looks like me.  It's nice, because mostly I think he looks like John.  Oh, he definitely got the red hair, but it's already as dark as mine, so I don't really hold out hope for it STAYING red as he gets older.  Dark dark brown with red highlights, though... that's gonna be some niiiice hair.

Oh, dear.  I'm gonna have to watch out for the little girls with this one, aren't I? *facepalm*

The progress toward crawling is a little scary in its pace, the little bugger is desperate to be mobile by any means fair or foul.  There's a lot of army-style belly-crawling, lots of wiggles and scoots, and rocking on his hands and knees, but he also pulls up to his feet if he's got parental fingers to hold onto.  Still thinking he might (mostly) skip the crawling stage and go straight to cruising.

He's fascinated with the handset phones, he figured out how to make it go "beep!" and hasn't allowed me a peaceful call since.  The little green light that says my computer is charged is also a source of obsession, and he's constantly trying to get his little hands on the cord.

So, I'm actually really glad that this post sat unfinished overnight, because this morning JJ wiggled his way over to Mommy, just so he could lay his head on my shoulder and snuggle.  *melt*

Oh yeah, and one more thing... this right here:

This is my favorite time of day.

My Little Screech Owl

We've been trying since before JJ was born to figure out what we want to name him.  Oh, I don't mean his everyday given name.   That was settled back in 2006.  I mean his Cherokee name.

For those who don't know us and haven't figured it out from the pictures, my husband is Cherokee, and JJ is bidding fair to look VERY like him, just with lighter coloring and a slightly upturned nose because of his mama's Irish blood.  So the subject of JJ's Cherokee name has been quite the topic of discussion.

Lately... I think he's decided for us.

On another note,  John had one of those "you know you're a parent when" moments this morning.  He came upstairs and told me that while searching the laundry room for the load of diapers he knew was down there, "Diapers... diapers..." randomly became "Spinning in the nice warm dryer, spinning, till they are done"... to the tune of "The U.S. Airforce".

*snicker*  Had to happen to you eventually, sweetheart.  

Yes.  Yes, I did have to tell on you.  *wicked grin*

Ya know...We made a pretty cute kid.

This morning, baby JJ woke up for his usual 7am breakfast, and was asleep again by 8:30 or so.  John and I, instead of jumping up and scurrying about our daily activities, just laid there and watched the baby sleep.

Because, seriously, it doesn't get much cuter than that.

As I watched him sleep, I marveled over the tiny sighs, the translucent skin over his eyelids, the sleepy wiggles.  I am in awe of how totally in love I am with this child.  I thought no one could ever capture my heart more thoroughly than his father did.

Boys and girls, I was wrong.

No matter how frustrated I get when he won't stop crying (and I get frustrated)...

No matter how overwhelmed I feel when he's obviously bored and my sleep-deprived brain can't think of any more silly songs or funny faces...

No matter how badly I DON'T want to go downstairs to the laundry room with that bag of diapers... because then I have to climb back up...

No matter how often I dissolve into tears at 11 pm because he WILL NOT GO TO SLEEP...

I love this kid.

When he smiles... I have to smile back, no matter how upset I was ten seconds ago.

When he whimpers in his sleep, I check to make sure he isn't lying with his pacifier under his neck again, because how uncomfy must that be!

When John steps on the creaky spot instead of going around... OH does he get glared at.

When I see another little scratch on his face, I reach for the baby nail clippers and feel like a cruddy parent for not checking his nails, like, YESTERDAY.

When he makes just the right combination of baby noises and says "haaiiiii!!" just after his Daddy says "Hi, JJ!"... yes, I stare like my child has suddenly sprouted antlers, but It.  Is.  So.  Cool!!

When he cries because his tummy hurts or he's tired or hungry or startled ... I bounce and rock and sing and change and feed and do whatever I can think of to quiet him, because those little tears squeeze my heart.

When he is fussing on his way up from a nap, and he stops crying the second he hears my voice... Oh, Dear God, that is the best feeling in the whole wide world.

Except maybe for the one when he falls asleep in my arms, full, clean, and content listening to my voice as I sing his favorite song or read from another book he won't understand for months.

Shhhh... the baby's sleeping... my little love...

My world is forever changed...

Nineteen days ago, John and I welcomed our son, John Junior, into the world.  Eighteen days ago we brought him home.  In the seventeen days since then, John has found a job, we've gotten familiar with the process of changing a cloth diaper, and discovered the joys of co-sleeping.  (No, seriously, I cannot for the life of me imagine how new moms get ANY sleep with baby in another room... but that's a whole separate post...)

I've also realized that nobody can possibly be as excited and obsessed with our perfect baby boy as we are (nor should they be), and rather than continuing to drive everybody on Facebook nuts with constant status updates every time JJ does something adorable, I decided to roll with the bug a friend put in my ear and start a mommy blog.  Took me a few days to find the time and the energy, but here we are!

As the title suggests, I am by no stretch of the imagination the Fount of Wisdom for All Things Baby.  I did a lot (and I mean a LOT) of babysitting growing up, which prepared me in some small measure, I'm sure, but the last (almost) three weeks have thrown into stark relief how little I actually know.  I fell into "Mommy-mode" with barely a pause, and much of it is instinctive... burping the baby came without a second thought, for example... but this is the easy time.  Yes, I'm tired because I'm suddenly running on six hours of sleep a night (and I count myself blessed to get that much, he's a WONDERFUL baby), and yes, I get frustrated when I can't figure out why he's screaming (which, thank God, has only happened once so far), but at this point his needs and what to do about them are extremely simple.  Full stomach + well-burped + clean diaper + Mommy = happy baby. Generally speaking, anyway.  It gets complicated later, and believe you me I am ENJOYING this simple time... despite my aching back and all mutterings to the contrary.

That picture up there?  He was just about 90 minutes old when that was taken, they had just brought him back from the nursery.  I have to say, I don't look half bad, which kind of surprises me, because I got maybe an hour of sleep the night before, and the delivery was pretty insane.  The picture makes me laugh because I look completely stunned, and I was.  I kept looking at him, trying to wrap my head around the idea that he was inside me, that John and I together had made this beautiful, tiny, precious little creature that was now clutching my finger and sleeping with his ear to my heart-beat.  I couldn't seem to grasp it, and spent the better part of my conscious moments that day alternately grinning, crying, and staring at him in total astonishment.

In the last couple of weeks, I find myself looking at the world and everything in it with a completely new frame of reference.  EVERYTHING is being passed through the "we have a baby" filter, with some interesting results.  Shows I liked (or at least was willing to tolerate) before now have me asking John to change the channel because I don't want the baby hearing that crap, even if he is too young to understand.  I find baby-talk addressed to adults more obnoxiously irritating than ever.  The zoo scene in Happy Feet made me suddenly burst into tears... and not because it was sad.  It's supposed to be this tragic, gut-wrenching scene detailing Mumble's slide into depression and madness, and all I could think was "I get to take JJ to the zoo!"

We get to take him to the zoo, and the aquarium.  We get to watch his face when he tastes chocolate for the first time.  We get to teach him how to ride a bike and climb a tree and make snow angels.  John will be showing him how to clean a fish, and I'll be teaching him to sing harmony the way my mother did... by singing "Come, Follow, Follow" and "Row, Row, Row Your Boat" in rounds with him at bedtime.  We get to tell him how flowers grow and why the sky is blue, and all about that big round white thing in the night sky and why it sometimes looks like a coin and other times like the clipped-off piece of a fingernail.


All the neat things we get to do with him thrill me.

All the scary things we have to protect him from terrify me.

And somewhere in the middle is this squishy little bean who wrapped his tiny hand around my finger and melted my heart into a pile of warm fuzzies.

Welcome to the world, son.  It's gonna be a crazy trip!