37, 38, and 39 Weeks

Arlo is 39 weeks and 2 days old, and there are a million things I want to mention here—which is no surprise since I haven't updated in three weeks.

 

We have a lot on our plates right now. There's my mother-in-law's stroke, of course. Suffice it to say that she isn't improving, and it's agonizing to see her in a nursing home bed, half-paralyzed and unable to comprehend the gravity of her situation. She still has a contagious infection, so she hasn't seen Arlo in five weeks—and I'm getting scared that he'll forget her.  

 

On top of that, my sister is living a nightmare that nobody should ever, ever have to experience—a situation that deserves its own post, so that'll be coming soon.

 

Now, let's talk about this guy:

 

Boob pillow.

 

He is busy. If he's awake, he's undoubtedly exploring the house, and he definitely makes it impossible for me to just park my butt on the couch all evening. Why is it that he can have fifty toys scattered around the house, and he inevitably goes after the one accessible non-toy (e.g., my phone charger, Scooter's toy, the remote, a shoe)? And why do I bother spending money on toys? He played with a red Solo Cup for a half-hour the other day.

 

He's a very independent boy. For example, a couple days ago, I spent two hours organizing and doing some things around the house, and he was perfectly content roaming around the gated-off living room the whole time, just entertaining himself. You are the greatest company, Arlo.    

 

A couple times, he's stood up without support for a nanosecond—but he spends the majority of his days pulling himself up while steadying himself with furniture, our legs, or the window sill. He loves looking out the window and babbling, especially when it's snowing.  

 

The first time I caught him doing this.

Sometimes, Scooter joins in the fun, except he doesn't babble.

 

The hundredth time I caught him doing this.

 

Arlo's back on schedule with regards to sleep. He makes it through the night again—and has been known to give us twelve solid hours. On a related note, a few times, he's fallen asleep in random spots, which is off-the-charts adorable.

 

These puffs are borrrring.

 

He's also started clapping, and I'm not sure if he's doing it to express joy, or if he just likes doing it, but I can't get enough of it.

He's just getting over a nasty cold that peaked in severity on Christmas Eve/Christmas morning. Of course. He was too miserable to enjoy his presents, so that was a major bummer. He was sick. Every ten minutes, he sneezed and shot snot out both nostrils. His eyes were watery, and he just looked pitiful. Danny and I only made him unwrap one of his presents, and we unwrapped the rest. Hello, anticlimactic 1st Christmas.

 

Books are for eating.

 

Poor sickie's only smile of the morning.

 

He acted less miserable (but just as snot ridden) in the evening, and he played a little.

 

Stacking cups FTW!

 

Another note about Christmas:  Arlo somehow choked on a piece of tape—I mean legitimately choked (i.e., stopped making noise and started changing color)—and Danny had to perform the Heimlich Maneuver on him. I don't remember the last time my heart pounded so hard. I'm getting a knot in my stomach just thinking about it. Horrifying. I'm so glad Danny knew exactly what he was doing. Go brush up on baby first aid. Go, go, go.  

 

Four days before Christmas, we made the long, long trek to Michigan to celebrate with my siblings and their kids. It was Scooter's first big road trip, and they were both such good boys.

  

Timing is everything.

 

Fortunately, Arlo wasn't sick yet for our mini-Christmas, so he did get to experience opening presents.

 

Sad this shitty, grainy picture is the only one we got.

 

He had no interest. Because duh, there were bows to chew on.

 

We rang in 2014 at home last night, and it was a more successful celebration than Christmas. Arlo was happy.

 

Making him sit still in a chair has become a joke.

Here's another one because I couldn't pick.

Despite everything, we all were. We all are. You know, overall. 

34 Weeks

Arlo is 34 weeks old today. Some weeks, there are so many great photos on my phone that I can't decide which ones to share with you. Then, there are weeks like this one, where I have to scrape the bottom of the barrel to come up with these:


Gnawing on a roll.

Gnawing on some keys.

Gnawing on a gift from a friend. (I caught a glimse of what Christmas is going to be like—Arlo eating wrapping paper and Scooter shitting himself, trying to figure out what's in the package.)

 

Arlo's still spoiling us on the teething front. Two more top ones popped through over the weekend, putting him at six total—and he's still himself. No crazy horror stories to report. He has been waking up during the night, though, and we don't know if it's because of the teeth or a growth spurt or what. Either way, he hasn't been giving us his typical 11 1/2 solid hours.

 

A few mornings ago, he woke me up too early, so I brought him into bed with me for some snuggles. I ended up being late for work because I absolutely couldn't tear myself away from this face:  



 

And I know you can't blame me.

26 Weeks

Arlo is 26 weeks old today—officially half a year! I found myself doing math problems last night—like "OMG, only one more of those, and he'll be one!" and "OMG, only 35 more of those, and he'll be 18!"—and I really started to blow my own mind. 

Lots to report this week. First, Arlo's still sleeping like a champ. If we keep him awake until 9, he'll sleep until 6:30 or so—but he seems to be a bigger fan of 8-5:30, which isn't ideal—but we're well aware that there are much worse scenarios. We've kept up the bouncy-seat-in-the-crib thing, and I hope his reflux is long gone before he outgrows his bouncy seat, but I'm not sure that's going to happen. Danny left the room while Arlo was playing the other day and came back to this scene:

I have no idea why there's a hanger in the middle of the floor. 

Needless to say, we started actually buckling him into it at night. 

Second, a bottom tooth worked its way through a couple of days ago, which was quite a shock to Danny and me since we didn't even know Arlo was teething. What a badass. There isn't enough tooth showing to get a picture yet, but it shouldn't be long. I don't know if he does it for relief or entertainment, but he can't keep his fingers or tongue away from that crazy new sharp thing in his mouth. I can't keep my finger off it, either. My baby has a tooth!

Third, I keep forgetting to mention that Arlo's been sitting up really well for a few weeks now. I don't like to let him chill this way on the floor yet because he still randomly decides to topple over once in a while (I won't talk about the time I let him bash his skull on the hardwood floor.)—so most nights, we practice sitting up in his crib, and apparently, I can't get enough photos of this. 

Cute man boobs. 

I can't even caption this.

This is the most hilarious outfit Grammy has ever sent him home in. When we later told her that it's a girl outfit, she said, "But it's blue!"

And here he is sitting up in the whale tub:

And with his best buddy:

Lastly, one of my favorite moments this week was when we were all at Carter's, and Arlo reached out and grabbed a toy off a shelf. His softy daddy couldn't help but buy it for him, and he kept saying, "That's the first toy he picked out himself!" I've never been much of a hoarder, and I always say that memories go in my head, not all over my house—but I can totally see how people end up saving boxes and boxes of things from their kids' childhoods. Lord knows my list of must-keeps is growing, and you can bet your ass that crazy orange toy will still be in my possession when Arlo has kids of his own.

A glimpse of the crazy orange toy. Also, that gorilla was the first thing Danny picked out when we found out there was a baby boy in my belly. (I think he's too big to keep forever, so that's one memory that'll have to stay in my head.)

24 Weeks

Arlo turned 24 weeks old yesterday, and he's finally sleeping through the night most nights! When he doesn't make it the whole night, he only wakes up once—which is a walk in the park after months of waking up between 4 and 7 times. I can't tell you how happy this makes me. 

Oh, my God, I sleep now! (I feel like I should mention that that stuff isn't in his crib when he's sleeping. We still put his bouncy seat in his crib anyway.)

Shorty must've had a growth spurt because we realized a couple days ago that he doesn't need a pillow under his feet during jumperoo time anymore. 

Look! Feet on the floor!

Also, I wish I had a corresponding photo, but I keep forgetting to mention how difficult changing and dressing this monkey has become. Good grief. He shoves both hands in his mouth when we're trying to put his shirt over his head. He gnaws on his sleeve while we're struggling to stick his arm through it. By the time we wrangle his second leg into his pants, he's freed his first leg so he can stick his foot in his mouth. He tries to sit up while we're attempting to zip or snap his pajamas. He flails his arms. He kicks like a wildman. He beats us. He does all kinds of crazy dances, including a fun little rolling-over number, while he's covered in various disgusting things. We need 30 more hands. And 30 more changing pad covers.

That'll do it for this week. Here's a random photo that melts my heart:

Such a big boy in the highchair. (A good mom remembers to bring the highchair cover to restaurants. Whatever.)

23 Weeks

As of yesterday, Arlo is 23 weeks old, and I'm pleased to report that he's sleeping! He still can't quite make it through the night, but he's getting damn close. He's been waking up just once most nights—typically around 4. I'll take it.

I'm assuming he's sleeping because his higher dose of Zantac is really kicking in. He still shows signs of reflux—but not constantly like before. Having him in his bouncy seat in his pitch-black room is undoubtedly helping, too. We're getting closer and closer to discovering the perfect recipe.

We saw the GI specialist last week, and she seemed confident that he'll outgrow the reflux within a couple of months. In the meantime, she told us to start feeding him rice cereal, which we've been doing at dinnertime. This could also be contributing to the better nights. But who knows.

In the lobby, waiting to see the specialist.

She also told us that we need to feed him on demand, like you do newborns—that it wouldn't be fair to Arlo to attempt to put him on a feeding schedule. When he feels well enough to eat, he'll eat. If he can only handle an ounce at a time, we have to work with him. This is what we've been doing, so the reassurance was nice. Yes, most babies should be on a schedule now. Mine can't be because he's in pain.

Anyway, if the reflux is still around in 6 weeks, the specialist would like to have us back to schedule some testing.

I haven't felt this rested since before Arlo was born. I'm not saying I'm no longer sleep deprived—because I totally am—but I'm finally feeling ambitious enough to start exercising again. Thank God. I haven't lost the million pounds that I put on while I was pregnant, and my I-just-had-a-baby license is about to expire. We've been walking our butts off.

My walking buddy.

There's a little playground about two blocks from our house, and Danny and I finally took Arlo there the other day. Arlo's swinging session was probably the highlight of my week. This kid's turned me into such a sap that my eyes filled with tears as he swung back and forth a thousand times, just beaming as he experienced the sensation of the wind in his hair and took in all the new sights. His eyes darted from the sky to the trees to the ground—and always, back to our faces. I think he loves our smiles as much as we love his.

 

Weee!

We're a bunch of grinning fools, I tell ya. Life is so good.

22 Weeks

Arlo is 22 weeks old today, and we had one hell of a week. His reflux came back with a vengeance early in the week. He was absolutely miserable—crying hysterically, refusing feedings, spitting up literally 20 times a day, and sleeping terribly. We took him to the doctor on Thursday, and she upped his dose of Zantac again and referred us to a specialist. We go on Wednesday, and I really, really hope this doctor is able to find an answer for my poor baby.

The increased dosage seems to be helping, but I'm still seeing lots of signs of reflux. I can't wait until we don't have to give him medicine anymore. He can't stand the stuff. He's so smart that when he sees the syringe, he knows to lock his lips. This is what we have to put our boy through 3 times a day:

Yay! It's Daddy!

Daddy, you son of a--

Nope. Uh-uh.

WHAT ARE YOU DOING TO ME?

Ugh. 

You said you loved me, Daddy! Hmph.

We started putting his bouncy seat in his crib at night, and he's definitely sleeping better this way. Last night, he slept from 8:30 to 5:45!

Chillin' like a villain (and actually sleeping!). 

He's loving his jumperoo more than ever, and he's perfectly content spending an hour in it, looking out the picture window and bouncing up a storm.

Bouncy, bouncy, bouncy, bouncy.

He's blowing raspberries like a maniac now, which is adorable and messy. He's also become very interested in faces, and one of his new favorite pastimes is trying to gouge out our eyes and rip our noses off. He actually hurts us sometimes.

Ripping Daddy's nose off. Note Arlo's expression—he's clearly on a mission.

He does this to Scooter as well, often yanking out fistfuls of Scooter's hair in the process, and Scooter's such a gentle boy that he puts up with it without batting an eye. That dog drives me insane, but he's so good with his little buddy. Arlo loves him. For some reason, Arlo thinks it's really funny when Danny makes Scooter "speak." Once in a while, Scooter gets lazy with his "speaks," and he'll growl instead of bark, and Arlo finds his growls especially hilarious. I don't know how we're going to teach him that growling dogs are dangerous—because his certainly isn't.  

Buddies.

Arlo cracking up as Scooter growls.

21 Weeks

Arlo is 21 weeks old today, and that sleeping-through-the-night thing? Major fluke. Our nights have improved a little, though. He only had an up-six-times night once this past week, and last night, he only got up once. I just never know what to expect.

Anyway, I swear he's getting more fun by the minute. He's rolling over like it ain't no thang now, both from tummy to back and back to tummy. He knows that if a toy is out of reach, all he has to do is roll over to get closer to it. I don't think he necessarily has control over where he goes, but he's getting really good at scooching around. If I leave him alone on his activity mat for 3 minutes, there's no telling where he'll be when I get back. He scooches his little body right off that thing. He can also make it from one side of his crib to the other in no time. Okay, like 5 minutes. But still.

When did he get so big??

His feet still can't quite reach the floor when he's in his jumperoo, so I put a blanket under them—and he goes to town! He jumped around maniacally in that thing for over an hour straight the other day, hootin' and hollerin' up a storm. He looks like he's slimming down a bit, thanks to all this new exercise.


Felix is such a good sport.

WHERE DID THAT FACE COME FROM?

He's so happy and smiley, and every single day, he does something that's so cute it almost gives me a stroke.

Like the way he adores his daddy. (You have good taste, kid.)

20 Weeks

Arlo is 20 weeks old today, and this past week was full of firsts for him.

First, he finally rolled his fat little butt over on Thursday. I'd imagined that when he finally did this, there would be lots of grunting involved—but that wasn't the case at all. As soon as I put him on the floor for tummy time, he lifted his left arm up, and bam! Before I even realized what was happening, he was on his back. I think he only did it so he could get to his feet, which have become his best friends.

Just seconds after rolling over for the first time.

Next, he slept through the night last night! Holy crap. He's been sleeping better for the last couple weeks—"only" getting up twice most nights—and I think it must be due to the higher dosage of his reflux medication. This is proof that he was most likely miserable every night—so I feel like crap for letting him suffer for so long—but I'm thrilled he's apparently feeling better. I can't wait to see if last night was a freak thing, or if our boy really has turned over a new leaf. This could be life changing.

Lastly, Arlo went on his first road trip. We made the 10-hour round-trip trek to Michigan on Saturday to visit his cousins.

Ready for his trip!

15 minutes in.

A few hours in.

He was such a good boy. He slept most of the way there and back, and while we were there, he was the sweetest little man. He got to swing for the very first time, which was adorable. The swing was barely moving, but judging by his reaction, he was soaring.  He kept widening his eyes and saying, "Oh!" I could hardly stand the cuteness. 

Hardly moving.

Tire swing with Mama.

Tire swing with Daddy. (At least Arlo's looking at the camera. There's no tellin' what Danny's up to.)

He didn't bat an eye as he was passed from person to person—and we were there for 5 1/2 hours, and he remained content the whole time. I'm so proud to be his mommy.    

The ride home.