Gametes In Love

G needs a hair cut.

This is my opinion anyway. S, unfortunately, is not in agreement. While our little guy is as cute as can be, he’s growing a baby mullet on the back of his head. I’m ready for his locks to be trimmed, but S isn’t and until he gives the final OK, I’m patiently waiting.

For S, it comes down to a control thing: having no hair of his own to manipulate, he’s chosen G’s locks to control. I think my husband is damn hot in how he looks, but if he needs a head of hair to feel in charge of, fine!

I am, however, not taking this battle sitting down. My weaponry of choice? Hair clips! That’s right. Hair clips! If G’ll have the long girlie strands, I’ll take the girlie approach to hair management. I was a little saddened when the tech at our big u/s announced we were having a boy, ONLY in that I would never get to braid his hair, but hey, turns out I had nothing to feel saddened over. I’m on my way to getting my braiding dream. Here’s G sporting one of my clips to school today.

Doesn’t he look pretty (pardon the yogurt all over his mouth)? Where I put one on, S takes it off behind my back. It’s a passive aggressive battle, but kind of fun. (Little does S know I’ve got only about 2 dozen floating around the house and and least 4 in my purse.)

I am also not above the pink-bow head-bands (anyone got one they can lend me?) or doing pig and pony tails.

S, can I win yet? Please????

This morning marked the end of my nursing relationship with G. As much as a part of me wishes we can go on, it’s our time. My body is continuing to decrease the amount of milk I’m producing (and my current period sure isn’t helping that any) to a point where he’s really not getting anything out of me. I produced a whole whopping 2 ounces in the span of 6 hours yesterday, so I know that our morning and evening nursing sessions are now more of a routine than a nutritional experience.

I’m a bit sad, but also content. I started off this experience worried that I wouldn’t be able to breastfeed at all; then hoping I could make it to 6 months, and then a year. Well at 14.5 months, I’ve accomplished my goal and thrilled to know that I could battle a family history of, as well as my own body’s poor supply and win. I have no regrets of what it took to get here. The Fenugreek that made me smell like maple syrup, the Reglan, the Domperidone, the lactation cookies, the obscene amounts of water I’ve been drinking daily? They were all worth it.

I will miss my morning/evening snuggles with my boy, but I’ll tell you what I’m looking forward to:

1. Going back to regular bras. There’s a few lacy numbers S and I need to get re-acquainted with.
2. Sleeping in on the week-ends. Yeah, now S will be just as capable of getting up at 6 am on a Saturday and get G his breakfast. Oh, week-end sleep-in, how have I missed thee!
3. Not having to take a pump to/from work each day. Each morning, packing up my car for the day, between my bags and G’s bags, you’d swear I’m moving out or something.
4. Getting out of the house faster in the morning. It takes me 20 minutes to nurse. In contrast, G can suck down a bottle in about 5 minutes. Have you any idea what I can do with those extra 15 minutes?
   1. Sleep, for starters. I can snooze my alarm. Twice!!!
   2. Shower. Oh, morning shower, I’ve missed thee too!
5. Reclaiming my freezer space (we’ve had to result to a second freezer, borrowed from our neighbor, to store the overflow of frozen milk)

So there it is. The end. It’s bittersweet.

P.S. The water thing though… I’m kind of addicted, so I think I’ll continue drinking it as I have.

I think G has a favorite meal: Spaghetti. About a week ago we went out for dinner with Augie and his family. Augie’s youngest little one and G shared a bowl of spaghetti. It was the first G has had of the treat and loved it!

Fast forward to Saturday. After swim class, S and I ran around town doing some errands. Well, all of a sudden it was about noon, we were no-where close to home, but as I hadn’t anticipated being out this late, I didn’t pack a lunch for him. (Lesson learned – will always pack a meal ahead just in case). We ended up going to Macaroni Grill. I ordered the spaghetti and meatballs, thinking I would share that with G. Well, it was more like he sharing with me, because the kid could not get enough. He slurped his pasghetti like nothing could possibly taste better. I couldn’t cut them up and get them to him fast enough. There was tomato sauce flying everywhere: his face was a mess, his hands were ridiculous, and his portable dining chair needed to be hosed down. But boy, oh boy, did he have a good time. I guess I know what I’ll be making him for dinner later this week.

I will also note that on the same luncheon outing, G waited for the spaghetti by enjoying an appetizer of crayon. Yeah, you read right — crayon. He was gnawing on that thing like wax was a necessary food supplement. I yanked on one end, while he was biting down on the other. His teeth ended up being green and purple with little chunks of waxy crayon left in there for good measure. While, I’m glad these things are non-toxic, there shall be no more crayon at our dining tables for awhile. Can anyone educate me what about crayon makes it so tasty? That is without asking me to eat one myself?

***

Oh, as a side note, unless my scale is lying to me (which is quite possible), G is now 19lb 10oz. The WHO puts him in the 10th percentile for his age group. 10th!!! I guess this is where G walking at 14 months is letting him catch up a bit, weight-wise. I expect his new found mobility to put a halt to that curve climb and shoot him back down, but hey, I can enjoy the double digits for short while, right?

G and S enjoying an afternoon at the park. Swings + Slide = A fun time indeed!

My little daredevil is already determined to slide down head first AND walk up the slide.

You know the story of the kid who loves to play with the wrapping paper of their birthday gift more than the gift itself? Yeah, well, G doesn’t stray far from that tale. You see, he enjoys playing with an empty plastic bin about as much as anything else.

• He pushes it around the floor and uses it as a walking toy
• He throws his toys in it
• He then pulls them out
• He flips it sideways and then sits in it
• Sometimes he plays turtle with it (with our supervision that is)

S calls it the Swiss Army Knife of toys.

So yeah. Plastic bin (from Target)? $8. Hours of toddler fun? Priceless!

This is one of those stories that child caregivers will (sadly) relate to and make non-parents cringe. It’s a story of poop, and tossed cookies (or in our case tossed pear/pineapple pure). It ain’t for the faint of heart, but it can very well be one of those train-wrecks you just can’t look away from. On the other hand, if you want to continue reading of G’s adventures and want the good, smiley parts, skip over today, K?

G for the second night in a row delivered his load just in time for the last diaper change of the day. Personally, I prefer it when he goes during the day, while at daycare, but alas, not so lucky lately. He’s also been fighting diaper changes and squiggles, kicks and twists during them as if he’s been subjected to some torturous procedure. Between the two, we’ve been lucky that we haven’t ended up with a steamy pile of poo on our carpet… until last night.
In his bronco imitation phase, G manages to kick his soiled diaper off the changing table. Luckily S caught it (this is why poopie diapers are now a 2-man job) before it ended up on the floor. Sadly, we didn’t get as lucky on restraining the wipes. One of those wipes must have dropped a juicy little nugget, that S unknowingly stepped in. While I was proceeding with the rest of our bed-time routine, S continued walking around the room putting stuff away, gathering diapers for the next day, so on and so forth. Yeah, you see where this is going? He left a lovely little trail of where he’d been. It wasn’t until the end that he looked down, then at me, and we figured out what had happened. Off he goes to get the cleaning supplies.
G is now no longer interested in his milk, and in fact wants to get down on the floor and play – on the poopie, being cleaned up with Resolve, floor, mind you. The lights are still on, so there’s no hint for him to think that bed-time is coming up. Yet he’s tired and already cranky. This makes for one fussy baby, one irritated dad, and one helpless mom.
Result? A (literally) shitty bed-time.
S had to ultimately take over when he was done cleaning, because G was pissed off at me for not letting him go down on the floor (and we all know how the kid can hold a grudge).

At least he slept well.

Cue up this morning.
Following breakfast, as I’m putting my shoes on, already dressed and G straddled on my hip, guess what happened? That’s right – G decided he didn’t want to hold on to his breakfast. Luckily S heard him coughing up and literally stuck his hands out cupped in front of G’s mouth as it all came out. It got all over G’s shirt, and my sweater, so back upstairs we go to change. Meanwhile, S is trying not to loose his cookies while he washes up his hands. I could hear him dry-heaving in the downstairs bathroom.
Yeah, I guess we know who the lucky parent will be cleaning up after G’s first stomach flu, huh?

So welcome to parenting my friends. This is your preview. You know you’ve reached a true stage of parenting when you discuss these sorts of topics. For the record? It’s still gross!

Ok, not yesterday, but today… just like that, he walks.

He’s now standing up in the middle of the floor and taking steps in random directions. Unsupported. It’s still the zombie walk, (arms up over the head and all) and he does still fall, but he’s walking.

Man, how do 14 months pass by so fast?

11.09.2009 (14 months)

It’s still Monday in our neck of the woods, so this counts 🙂

Here’s G “walking” to his toy bin. I put walking in quotes there because he’s not consistently taking 5 steps or more in a row, and that’s when I can officially count it. He does 3 on his own before he plops over. So here without further adieu is G’s walk.

[youtube=http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=sTs4oSCwZMI]

We can’t quite tell if he’s excited about the walking part or the slamming himself against the toy chest part. Well at least he’s having a good time.

I’ve been on the hunt for fall foliage. Have you any idea how hard it is to find fallen leaves around where we live? It’s obviously California Bay Area’s curse and blessing. Our moderate climate while nice (when all the East-Coasters are freezing their toes off in winter), also produces more or less the same view year round: green. I’m not complaining too loudly mind you. All I’m saying is that it would be nice to be able to get some pictures every once in awhile amongst some deep yellow and red leaves. Fall is my favorite season of the year, specifically for the colors. I keep saying that I want to rent a house for a few days in Vermont one year and just watch autumn take over. Sigh — I miss living in a 4 season part of the world.

Anyway, with some hunting I was able to find a tree (1 tree!) in a park that had some fallen, color-changed leaves. I was trying to entice G to play with the leaves, maybe throw a few overhead, but to him the idea of a good time is eating a leaf or two. Eh, you get what you can.