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Monday, November 22, 2010

Full Brat Day

Today marked the very first time our kid went full-out brat.  That means he whined, cried and freaked out at the park when he didn't get his way, and then came home and whined, cried and freaked out just to drive the point home.  He pulled every classic maneuver in the book, including the limp-fish, which requires the child attempting it to go completely limp while throwing an impressive fit.  On a tantrum-throwing skill level, it's about a seven.

Today was such a change in his behavior that my husband actually turned to me after dealing with his limp-fish son and said, "Seriously, we need to mark this in his baby book."

This is not to say that little man hasn't had a few choice tantrums before.  He certainly has had his share of crying bouts.  But none has been as completely annoying as the ones he threw today.  We are spoiled by his good natured behavior every day of the week, so this should come as no surprise.  It's just the universe saying, "Everyone who thinks their child is a perfect angel, step one foot forward.  NOT so fast, couple with the limp-fish tot over there."

But honestly, we felt the brat thing was a little overdone.  A little brat is ok, and could even be considered "determined" or "strong."  A moderate helping of brat in a day can be tolerable, and some appreciate the kid who can pull off that much brat and still manage to come across as "endearing" or "tenacious."  But a complete brat is nothing but...a complete brat.

Someone needs to take him aside and let him know that you NEVER go full brat.

Saturday, November 20, 2010

Mr. Independent

Well, hello there month fifteen.  You are sneaking up on me like a panther in a grassy field, but I am on to you, little man.

The baby has officially stumbled into toddlerhood, and by stumbled I mean he is walking like a drunk looking for his next fifth.  I can't seem to keep up with him while five months along, so my husband has been doing a lion's share of the work, decent fellow that he is.  He is doing the heavy lifting, too, since our kid is now 28 pounds and 32 inches long.  I have trouble carrying him across the room, which pains me somewhat because that is the only time he will stay still long enough for me to smother him with cuddles and kisses.  You see, apparently I am raising the World's Most Independent Kid.  True story.

This becomes a real issue in public, when we are trying to stroll with him.  He simply won't have it, this strolling thing, and MUST be released from his seatbelt IMMEDIATELY or ELSE HEADS WILL ROLL.  And roll they do.  I have bought stock in Tylenol...baby and adult formula.

Once put on the ground, we see nothing but a poof of dust and he's gone...down the street, stumbling with no fear.  Try to hold his hand and he will attempt to gnaw it off at the wrist.  He doesn't want pity!  He can do it himself, dammit!

At the park, he wanders aimlessly, going from lap to lap and checking the food goods.  If it's acceptable, he'll simply extend his hand and open his gaping maw in a gesture of, "FEED ME."  This would be horribly embarrassing if he weren't a baby and cute.  I know this because when I do it, my husband is just mortified.

But he doesn't seem to need us.  That's the thing that both relieves and worries me simultaneously.  He doesn't want us around, frankly.  And when he's at the park, he's socializing with his peeps.  He doesn't want us helping him up or holding him steady.  He wants to fall down and find his way back up by himself.  It's not a little heart-wrenching.

It's as if he's already walking away from me with a dismissive glance over his shoulder.  "See ya, mom." And then he's grabbing the car keys out of my hand and driving to Burning Man with a girl named Jupiter.

Amazon has those "backpack" leashes, right?

Sunday, November 14, 2010

Eight Pounds

I hit the 20 week mark on Sunday and saw my doctor for my monthly visit and weigh in.  So far, I have gained a total of eight pounds.  What'chu say?  Eight pounds?  That's barely a watermelon!  And I KNOW I have eaten at least fifty pounds of watermelon since 20 weeks ago...that and In-N-Out burger...animal style.

My last pregnancy, I had gained nine pounds in 18 weeks, so by all accounts, I am definitely not eating my weight in food this time around.  Although I kinda am.  Also, I am the size of a manatee. So really, this makes no sense at all.

However, I do not look a gift horse in the mouth.  Since hearing the news, I have tried my best not to shovel food in my mouth and eat the worst things possible just to settle my insatiable cravings for saturated fat and calories.  Good on me!

Honestly, I do it for the sake of the baby.  And the sake of my lady parts.  If you have a giant baby like I did, that last push in labor is a doozy.

Monday, November 1, 2010

The End of Teething

Congratulations to our little dude for cutting the last of a full set of teeth at 14 months.  No more excessive drooling.  No more Tylenol.  It was a lot of pain and suffering, but now you can eat potato chips!  Mom's potato chips!  All of them!  TOTALLY WORTH IT.