A strong smile

Jack has recently started to smile. As in, beyond tooting and pooping smiles. Real, intentional smiles. And it's the most wonderful thing when your baby looks at you and slaps on the sweetest little grin. 

Here is the progression of our little man's "Jacksmiles":

Yep, he's wearing a John Deer onesie. We start our kids out young here in North Dakota :) Thanks Jordy, Brooks, Linda and Warren!

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Now, I'm not sure about other babies or there talents and skills, but our baby loves to "stand." And we think it's the best thing to happen since sliced bread. 

He can't do it on his own, so I hold him by his armpit and it pushes himself up with his legs and can stand for about 10 seconds. And he just loves it! When he straightens his legs, he stiffens his whole body and his hands fold into tight fists and he shakes them like he's mad. It's soooo stinkin' funny.

 Sometimes I sit on the floor with him and just let him work his muscles - it wears him out pretty good. A good nap usually follows. 

Here, I've helped him up, but he's standing all on his own. What a strong little man. 

Scott loves that his little boy is so strong, so when Jack is laying on his tummy on the bed Scott puts his arm behind Jack's legs and he pushes off of of it and "belly crawls" across the bed. It's comical. Daddy thinks our 1.5 month old will be crawling in no time :)

Birth story; Part 3

So she gave us two outcomes. We would wait it out a bit, making sure I and the baby were handling everything well, and see if the bleeding slowed or we would have an emergency c-section. The waiting lasted about five minutes. Our baby was doing fine - not reacting to what was going on at all. I, on the other hand, continued to bleed heavily. The doctor checked one last time and said she couldn't let me continue to bleed this way. We all would prep for an emergency cesarean. 

I had always envisioned a vaginal birth. I had been almost looking forward to it. It had somehow come with territory, a woman's right type of thing. I knew it would be hard, but I also knew a great deal of accomplishment and pride would come from the strength it would take to have my baby the natural way. 

But when the doctor said we needed to have a c-section, I wasn't scared at all. I wasn't disappointed or bitter. And to be honest, at this point in time in my labor, I wanted the pain of the last 12 hours to stop and I couldn't imagine progressing this slowly for another, what, 24 hours maybe? Knowing that we could have our baby within the hour was such a welcoming thought. Knowing these nasty contractions would be over was almost as welcoming. What I didn't know, was that I hadn't yet known real pain…

After the doctor broke my water, my contractions apparently decided to come from a deeper part of hell because they were excruciating (to the full extent of the word). Since my uterus lost so much fluid so fast and unnaturally, and because something had gone wrong with the placenta, the pain of contractions was multiplied what seemed like a million times. It made the previous pains feel like a nice back rub compared to what was going on now. 

Scott suited up in his hospital blues while the doctor came in to explain what would all happen in the next few minutes and I was laying in bed moaning and wincing and flopping in pain. I didn't hear a word she said except for the heavenly word "epidural" and I didn't care about much else. 

I don't remember what Scott did at this time, I know he was beside me, but I went tunnel vision. It takes a lot of strength to withstand that kind of discomfort. The anesthesiologist came in to explain the epidural procedure. I also didn't care about his instructions, just give me the damn drugs already! He sat by my head and began explaining, looked at the monitors and said, "You're having a contraction, I'll wait until it's over." I told him it wouldn't be over - these babies were constant. He apparently didn't believe me because he sat in silence for what seemed like 10 minutes, then realized I wasn't lying and gave his shpeal while I writhed in pain. It's amazing how social conduct and self consciousness goes out the window - I didn't' care one bit that my legs were spread eagle while people were poking around my lady parts as I loudly moaned and groaned so that my unshowered and greasy self could let some of my aching out. 

I was lifted to a different bed with wheels. For some reason they wouldn't let Scott come with me, so I was wheeled through the halls by myself, still flopping around like a crazed fish. We entered the operating room and I remember thinking I felt like I was in a movie. It was sterile and white and at one end of the room there was a table with a million shiny silver instruments. 

They started moving and twisting me how they wanted, strapping my arms down, moving my head. It was so, so painful. I remember it all in a blur, I couldn't focus on anything for too long, I couldn't comprehend much more than a few words at a time. Everything was surreal. 

It was finally epidural time. They said they wanted me to sit up and bend over. I told them no, I couldn't. I could barely move in any direction, let alone sit straight up. So they settled for me laying on my side and curving my back outward. I could barely do that. I felt a slight prick, but that was all. Then I felt the most wonderful thing - my chest went numb, then my torso, my waist, my legs. And the pain was gone. In a matter of seconds this beautiful feeling of nothing set in. I cannot fully explain how it made me feel. I was so relieved. I was a little loopy. I could take in what was around me. I could hear people again. I wasn't stuck in my own head, fighting off pain. Epidurals are truly amazing. 

Scott came in and sat by my head behind the blue screen they had up (again, just like the movies). He held my hand. I think he was relieved I was joking and seemingly fine. He found it funny that I liked my drugs so much. 

Then they started to "gut" me, as Scott still refers to it. :) And he watched everything. I felt nothing. At one point he looked at me and said, "You wouldn't believe what they are doing to you."

The anesthesiologist said I would be feeling some pressure in my chest, but to continue to breath because my initial response would be to hold my breath. I did as he asked and there was the pressure, up in my rub cage. I wish I could remember exactly what he said, but it was something like, "You've got a lively one," because we could hear a tiny cry while our baby was still half in me. And then the pressure was gone, the crying was louder and these little while feet and legs were being held with playtex gloves above the blue curtain and I saw my baby for the first time. That was in me. That was my baby. We had made that. 

Scott looked at me and asked if he should stay with me or go with the nurse and the baby to be measured. I told him to go with them. A minute or two later Scott came back through the doors with out little baby. He had this look of ownership, he was already a parent. He looked so proud. 

He laid the baby awkwardly on my shoulder/chest and I looked at that tiny stranger. I can still remember exactly what he looked like. Tears came. I couldn't believe it had finally happened. Scott said "I had something in my eye, I'm not crying," with a soft smile. 

And everything that had preceded that moment didn't matter. We were there, together and as a family. It was over and it was all just beginning. 

My mom and sister had come back and were waiting outside the operation room doors. This is a picture my sister took just minutes after he was born. I am so thankful for this photo. 

One month of Jack

...About a week late. Jack turned one month old on May 18. 

My, how those shorts show off your lovely pot belly :)

Jack Jonathan Kingston 

May 18, 2012

Weight 
I'm not totally sure right now since we don't go back to the doctor for a few weeks. But at his two week appointment he was at 10 lbs 2 oz  -  up from 8 lbs 9 oz at birth! He's a (healthy) chunker! I'm gussing he's around 12 lbs right now. Already not so little.

Diapers 
Size one. We've been using Huggies (because they are the softest material), Pampers size one seem a lot bigger.

Hair
His hair has been one of the biggest changes we've noticed. When he was born it was super dark. The past few weeks it's been getting a lot lighter, almost like mine when I was little - a light reddish brown. Now, not only does he have old man hair with the long hair in back and shorter on top, but he has this receding hairline! Ha! It's funny because the middle top is pretty long but each side of that strip is almost bald. It's a little strange.

Clothes
We have officially outgrown newborns. Zero-three month clothes are fitting him perfectly.

This months firsts
>A real bath. He loves them, or at least is very content when he's in the tub
>No more guzzling milk too fast
>Pushing himself up with his strong leggies (and scoots across the bed by pushing on daddy's arm) and holding his head so well
>Spending time in the oil field with daddy
>Snorting
>Traveled five hours in one day (with one one hour break) and did pretty darn good for such a little boy. 

Jack likes
His bouncy/vibration chair
Sleeping on his tummy (and other people's tummies)
Playing with daddy
Hanging onto mom's necklace
Going for walks

Jack doesn't like
Tummy aches
Laying on his back for naps
Riding in the car too long

Mom loves
A sleeping Jack, especially sleeping on me
His smiles
Showing my baby off
Baby skin, especially his bare feet now that it's getting warm out
Always having someone with me - I love his companionship
His curiosity
That he looks so much like his daddy
His wrinkles on his forehead
When his eyes are wide open and oh-so-round
Seeing my two men sleeping in the morning, all cuddled up
His scrunchiness and the squirmy face he makes when he stretches


Dad loves
Having a "buddy" to gang up on mama with
Watching how strong he is growing to be
Letting him push his legs on his arm and squirming around - daddy thinks he's close to crawling :)
Telling him his pot belly matches his mama's - ha!

One week

One month

Birth story; Part 2

Sorry for being MIA. Jack and I "vacationed" in Gackle for the weekend. We are now back into our routine in Williston.

We arrived at the hospital, loaded up with all our bags, registered and I was wheeled up to a room. And then we waited. And I mean we waited. 

It took a few hours to even have them hook me up to an IV. My sister had planned to come keep me company that weekend, but took off to Bismarck when I told her we would be induced today. She got to the hospital (a three hour drive for her) before anything had started. For someone waiting to have a baby, it felt like such a long time. 

Finally I was hooked up (that was my first IV ever, and it took her three pokes to get the biggest, nastiest needle in me). A nurse came in and checked my cervix - still 1 cm. A few hours later they inserted the first pill of Cytotec into my cervix. 

Nothing seemed to happen for a while, plus I had no idea what to look for since I hadn't felt any contractions yet. Then I started feeling pain in my lower back. Not pulsating, really. It didn't come and go, it was just constant. The pains were accompanied by this hollow feeling in my stomach (a feeling I'd felt here and there for the past few weeks.) 

My sister arrived, we waited and hung out in the room. My mom arrived, still nothing was really happening. Another dose of Cytotec. Yeah, can you say OUCH? That did not feel good, nor did them continually checking my cervix  (which was still at 1 cm) since the Cytotec makes everything inside there soft and very raw. 

Contractions, I now knew what they felt like FOR SURE, started coming consistently and gradually closer and  closer. At one point a nurse asked me to rate my pain - I said a six. After she left Scott asked if it was really a six or if it was less, because a six was pretty up there. I said I guessed not, I could handle a lot more pain, so I made it a point to be more "real" about the pain level. 

It was getting late and not much was happening, which was extremely discouraging. I assumed I'd go in and, at the latest, maybe seven or eight hours later we would have our baby. Mom and Lindsay decided to leave to get some sleep so they went to my dad's cousins house to shower and get some shut eye. We said we would call if anything happened. 

Scott was already getting stir crazy. He needs to be doing something, and here we were in this big waiting game doing nothing. Well, I was in labour, contracting, hooked up to monitors, uncomfortable, in the most uncomfortable hospital gown with my butt showing most the time, getting my hoo ha continually probed and prodded. But he was doing nothing. Ha!

I joke, but really, I could't have and wouldn't have ever wanted to go through all I went through without him. Since I was hooked to the fetal monitor and the contraction one, I was to ring the nurse when I needed to go to the bathroom. That happened a few times, but Scott took over and would unhook me, help me get up and walk over to the bathroom and then help me back into bed again. He filled my cup with ice chips 17,329 times, brought me supper (kindly, after leaving me in the room by myself to go eat with my sister and TGIF - secretly it was nice because that short quiet time alone was really just what I wanted), laid in bed with me. I think he would have done literally anything I asked that day. And I love him so much for that. 

When I started having contractions, Scott was by my side, asking if he could do anything. But after a few hours it got to be the middle of the night and the room was dark and there was just nothing he could do to help me through the contractions, so he decided he'd try to get some sleep on the couch. 

I think this is the time that gave me the worst taste in my mouth for being in the hospital and being in the process of having our baby. It just wasn't a fun time. I was irritated that my body wasn't progressing, I was uncomfortable, I was tied down to the bed with the stupid monitors, even our baby's heart beat sound was annoying me (I'm a terrible person, I know) and I turned the sound down. 

It was dark and quiet in the room and I couldn't sleep. The contractions were intense, painful and barely giving me a break in between. I quietly got through each peak and desperately tried to get comfortable with no avail. That was one of the worst parts - just physically not being able to get comfortable. And since my BP was high, I was to lay down on my side. I didn't want to lay down and I definitely didn't want to lay on my side. Even switching sides was a process because the monitors had to be moved. 

Nurse came in, dose 3 of Cytotec. And boy, did that hurt like hell. It was probably 3 a.m. by now and I was so incredibly irritable. After a half hour it felt like the second pill hadn't fully been used and the third pill had kicked in and overlapped the second pill because the pain started getting so incredibly intense. There was about 5 seconds, literally, between contractions in which I had little relief. My big round tummy was hard as a rock and I was now moaning and gripping the side rail through each contraction. I have never, ever felt pain like that.

The sweet night nurse came in to ask for my pain rating. I told her probably a seven (being honest  with the numbering - even though the pain was a lot, I knew the pain could get much more so I wanted a few numbers left to be able to use the next time during another dose of Cytotec or, God forbid, when the Pitocin started.) She was a little shocked and said I had a high tolerance of pain. That made me feel good. 

Since my contractions were so hard and so close together, the nurse said she didn't think I would even have to have Pitocin (since Pitocin just increases the intensity of contractions) and that the Cytotec was working well enough. I just had to continue to dilate and continue like I was. A painful waiting game, I though. 

She could see my pain and asked if I wanted to jump in the shower, that the warm water might feel good on my hard belly. I took her up on that, anything to get out of that damn bed. She started helping me, but Scott came and took over. She was a great nurse and all but I just wanted my husband. I didn't want her touching me anymore. 

I hobbled, hunched over, to the bathroom, Scott undressed me and turned the water on. I got in. It was nice but didn't give me the relief I had been wanting. Scott came in and opened the curtain and just talked with me. Then he left me alone. After 10 minutes I decided that was enough. Scott dressed me again and then back to bed for me. 

I had never been apposed to getting an epidural. I knew I would get one, I wasn't trying to be a hero. But the nurse said most people wait until the pain is pretty high to get one - usually around 7 cm. That made me feel like a big wuss, since my 1 cm pain was pretty darn painful to me. I was still at 1 cm but this Cytotec induced pain was getting to me (I had to remind myself that being induced made labour pains a lot harder and that getting pain meds was not shameful). So, in an effort to man up, at around 5 a.m. I just asked for the IV pain meds. She gladly brought them to me and said it wouldn't get rid of the pain but it'd take the edge off, like having a few too many cocktails. 

Immediately I could feel myself getting a little loopy. And it was so wonderful. I could still feel the contractions, but just the peaks. I actually got some staggered sleep. 

At 7 a.m. we still hadn't had our baby, nor were we even close. My doctor came in to check me. I was 2 cm! Even that little progress was welcomed at this point. She decided the next step would be to break my water, since something had to be done to keep the process going. 

I had no idea how that was going to work, but she literally had this long, thin rod/stick/pole and shoved it up there. It didn't hurt at all and all of a sudden I could feel a warm gush of fluid. A lot of fluid. Like I was incontinent and wetting the bed. 

The doctor stood up to wash up while the nurses changed the pads I was laying on. The nurse that had been with me all night was moving some things around down there when this worried look came across her face while she was checking things out. She looked for a while and then looked a little harder with a slightly shocked and concerned face. Then she asked my doctor to come look.

After the doctor checked, she said, "You're bleeding more than you should be. Your placenta may have ruptured."

Our birth story; Part 1

It's taken me a long time to write this story. I've started and stopped and started again many times. I wanted to give it justice, I wanted to write it right. It never seemed to be the time or the place. 

This is a story that is like so many others, but so extremely personal to me, and my husband. I think of it sweetly and slightly hauntingly. I take pride in the strength God gave me and pride in the selflessness and kind spirit of my husband for me. Even though not the most ideal, I wouldn't change a minute of our journey. This story will be long and full of the smallest details, as I am writing this so that I can remember. Here is the birth story of our son:

At my 38 week weekly appointment, everything looked good. Jack's heart rate, which has been a concern at the end of March because it was slower than normal, had returned back to what it was supposed to be. We went through the normal routine of peeing in a cup, checking blood pressure, etc. But at this appointment, my my blood pressure checked a little high. The doctor came in to check my cervix - it was still dilated at 1 cm, as it had been for the past few weeks. Disappointing. I had to lay on the bed for 10 minutes so they could check my bp at a resting state, but it was still high. So they ran tests that found no protein in my urine (protein in the urine plus high blood pressure equals pre-eclampsia). Since my bp wasn't too alarmingly high, she sent me home.

I came back to the clinic on a Friday for my 39 week appointment and found the same thing, but with slightly higher bp this time. Still no protein in my urine, so she sent me home for the weekend with warning signs I should look for and to go to Labor and Delivery in any showed.

The weekend went by quietly. Scott was at work (he planned to come home on April 22, our due date. We both figured Jack would come late), so I had a lot of couch time - I knew it was my last few days as a childless lady, plus my feet were the size of watermelons. 

At the end of March, when Jack's heart rate was low, we had been so excited that we might have our baby early. We didn't want him to be in trouble like that, but we selfishly wanted him to come out then. Since that blew over and his heart returned to normal, I just assumed this blood pressure thing would be the same. I didn't get my hopes up too high. So I prepared things to do all week until my induction date on April 25th. I was dreading a long week of waiting. 

On Monday I went into the clinic again. Still high blood pressure, so my doctor wanted a 24 hour urine sample from me. She told me that since I was having consistent high bp (Jack was fine), that she wanted to induce early and not wait the extra week. She gave me two options - if the urine sample came back proteinless, she would induce me on Wednesday. If it came back positive (I was to hang around town until we got the call with the test results), I was to go to Labor and Delivery right away and they would induce me Tuesday afternoon. 

My head was spinning. We would have our baby for sure within 48 hours, possibly even get the party started the next day! I texted Scott and told him. He told him this better be for sure, not like last time. (He had gotten so excited that I might have had to be induced early before.) I told him this was the real deal. 

So I went back home and began the 24 hour urine collection. That was fun. And the best part? I had to keep this big orange jug of my pee refrigerated. A jug of urine in my fridge… It just grossed me out. 

I told Scott he better come home that night (he works and stays three hours from our house, 3.5 hours from the hospital) so he could come with me to the clinic in the morning to get the results. I could barely sleep that night. I knew I should, but the excitement was way too much. I wasn't scared at all. I was ready for this. 

The next morning we headed to Bismarck, dropped off the pee jug and went to Buffalo Wild Wings. I told him it was the last time we'd be able to sit in the bar area for a long time, the next time we would be in here we would have a baby! 

We were supposed to get a call with the results within the hour. Two, three hours passed and no call. My doctor wasn't in that day, so we had a difficult time getting through to the clinic that we needed these results because it was a matter of having a baby today or waiting until tomorrow. After a lot of frustration, we finally got a call from my doctor's nurse who said my protein was slightly higher than normal - I had mild preeclampsia. We were to head back into town (we had started going home because no one called us) and get to the hospital to start being induced. We were having this baby today! (Or so we thought.)

More to come...

My take on this Mother's Day

I woke up to Jack's fussing. It was 5:30 a.m. on May 13, 2012, and I sleepily pulled myself out of my warm covers, reached into his crib and under his little blue blanket and held him. He was squawking in his sleep again - knowing enough time had passed but not knowing what for. 

I laid back down in bed, snuggled my baby in beside me and pulled the covers back over us. He quickly settled down. I did that. I comforted him. All he wanted was to be by me, I thought sweetly. Within a few minutes we were both asleep. 

I woke up again at 8 a.m. to Scott coming in from working nights. And then there were three; after a quick shower, another warm body was under the blankets with us. 

That is how my first Mother's Day began. 

I've never thought about Mother's Day too much. Yeah, I'd buy my mom a card and the occasional gift, but the reality of what the day was to her never really crossed my mind. 

But now it's my turn. And even though I've only been able to claim the title for the past few weeks, it largely makes up who I am now. I didn't realize how much pride comes with entering into motherhood. 

And that is the only way I can explain what today feels like for me. 

Pride. 

I am simply and deeply proud to have entered into this new realm and sisterhood of moms. I am thankful to  have been giving this chance and gift from my Jesus. Blessed to have my child have such a wonderful teacher and respectable man as a father and for me to have him as my husband. And I am so proud to be the one who gets to spend all the days and (long) nights with Jack. I've not just been given any baby, I've been given the only Jack Jonathan Kingston in the entire world and I do not take for granted what an incredible gift that is. 

And I am proud of him.  I find it humorous sometimes when I think of how many times I've verbally told Jack how proud I am of him. When he gets a good burp out all by himself, when he takes his yucky medicine like a champ, when he's hungry but settles for his nook (that he's not too fond of) so I can finish my meal. He has this little personality already and sometimes I forget he is only three weeks old. 

Now, I know that we are called not to be boastful or proud. But this type of pride, that comes with being a mother and wife and thankfulness and wonderment also comes with humility. 

Scott and my's marriage, and just marriage in itself, requires selflessness. I put myself aside to be a part of a whole. When I said "I do" I put my selfish desires away, as did he (or we vowed to do our best of this, we are human.) It no longer was about me, we were an us. And now we have Jack. I choose to care for him, just as I choose to care for Scott. But what I love so much about baby Jack is his honesty. Hungry? Feed me. Not comfortable? He lets you know. He demands humility of me, he demands me to be a mom first, myself second. 

And this is the whole reason I started this blog and wanted to document my journey. This is me becoming a woman of my family. This is me figuring out just what that means. This is a lesson in the balancing act of being a child of God, a devoted, loyal and trusting wife, a selfless mom and a woman of individuality and character. 

I didn't realize how emotional my first Mother's Day would be. Or all the feelings it would conjure. Every text and Facebook post of well wishes of a happy day bring a few tears. I never imagined my God would bless me this immeasurably. I am the least of these, I am undeserving. This is grace at its finest. 

Here are a few articles from around the web that have spoke to me given me encouragement today:

Remembering Mother's Day

Being Somebody

Loving Jesus

And a few quotes:

I didn't know that along with my babies' births would come a vulnerability that would settle permanently in my heart. That although the physical scars would heal, the karmic chasm would remain open and raw - letting in the extremes of the joy and pain of this life as a mother - unfiltered, unadulterated, unmitigated. 

I remember my mother's prayers and they have always followed me. They have clung to me al my life. 

-Abraham Lincoln

Happy Mother's Day, everyone.

xoxo, 

-e

A walk in the park

The other day my best friend Lisa had a day off and decided to spend it in Washburn with us. 

It was such a nice day - high 60s - so her, Jack and I took a walk. It was the first time I'd taken Jack outside for any length of time and since we didn't have our stroller yet, we used our Baby K'Tan.

I didn't want my little fella to get cold so I bundled him up good. So what if he looks like he's going out in a North Dakota winter? 

I may have gone overboard. 

Thank You for mornings

Mornings are my favorite time of the day. Now, thanks to Jack, I get to experience them most days before the sun comes up. 

Lots of bed head goes on in our house and its wonderful.

We both drink our breakfast and I check blogs, Pinterest, email, Facebook and watch the Today show. 

Then its pumping time. Joy.

Jack snuggles in while while I produce his next meal.

Happy Wednesday Tuesday, everyone.
(I've lost track of days already)

Mine

Yeah, I'd held babies before. The two that I've spent the most time with are my cousins Anna and William. Anna is now 11 years old and is this crazy, athletic, awesome girl with the best sense of humor. A lifetime has passed since she was a tiny baby. William is only four months old and when he was first born I hogged him and held him as much as I could. 

But what no one tells you is what it's like to have your own. I've logged in a lot of hours with my little Jack bear. I've looked at his face when its 10 inches from my own while holding him when he is screaming and crying, while he is eating, falling asleep, blowing chunks, staring at me and munching on his hand before his bottle. 

Jack's face has become so familiar. I loved him from the minute we found out we were pregnant, but when he first was born, he looked just like a baby. Any baby. Every baby. He was new and we had just met. I didn't have that instant feeling of this is my child. For me it took some time. But now? I've memorized each squirmy and pouty and sad and happy and curious face he has made. I've watched as his eyelashes went from nonexistant to long and dark. I go into detail about how sad I feel when those eyelashes are soaked with tears. I've seen the milk come out his nose and I could tell you exactly what his mouth and eyebrows and the wrinkles on his forehead do when he's shocked at this and I'm wiping the milk from his face. 

I'm not sure when it happened, but it did. He is now one of the most familiar faces I know. And now he could never be anyone else's child. He's mine and ours. And I am his mom who comforts him and feeds him and rocks him and goes to him in the middle of the night and knows how to decipher the whimpers before the cries. 

And so if it seems like all I post are pictures of me holding him, its because I want to remember what it was like to be so close to my first child. My first son. My first time being a mom and figuring out what all this means. 

This is what I get to look at everyday. I am so blessed. 

A Tuesday with Jack

Scott went fishing with some buddies today, so it was just J bear and me at home. Sometimes things seem so hectic, and other times Jack is sound asleep and the house is quiet and still. 

I wanted to document a day in the life of Jack and I while he was still a fresh, new, newborn kiddo.  So here is what our Tuesday looked like in Jack's words (Don't like this darling, mushy gooshey, writing from a baby's point of view? Then skip this post because it might make you puke with it's cuteness):

May 1, 2012

I woke mom up every two hours last night because I was just oh-so hungry. She thought that was a little naughty of me. After she fed me at 6 a.m., daddy woke up to for his shift and let mom have an hour of undisturbed sleep. Once it gets light out, I'm up because the bright window catches my eye and I just can't stop staring at it.

I projectiled my milk all over daddy. Mom came to the rescue to change my jammies, blanket and diaper and clean me up. That felt good. 

I hung out in the chair while mom grabbed the dirty laundry. We have a lot of that around here. 

Tag started barking and we saw the mail lady was here. I got my first package in the mail from grandma Judy - the first of many, I think. She sent a swing for me to have at daddy's work. 

I fell asleep for a while on mom. When I woke up I had a good case of bed head. Mom loves my messy, just-woke-up hair. She thinks it looks like old man hair. 

 I had just woken up and was still a little groggy. Mom also loves my yawns. She's a sap. 

I remembered I was really hungry. So I started to try to eat my hand. I always forget that's not where milk comes from. 

Mom finally got on the ball after I squeaked and squawked a little. Sometimes a guy just has to be adramatic to make his point. 

Milk makes me sooooo sleepy. Sometimes it's all I can handle just to keep both eyes open. 

When mom pulls the bottle out of my mouth I am usually a mess. Milk on my chin, lips, neck... mom thinks it's just adorable but it's really just sticky. 

Mom tries to get me to belch, but sometimes I just dont want to. But when I do let a good, loud one loose, she congratulates me.

Since I didn't burp, she took me to my room for a diaper change. I needed it - there was a lot of pee in there. 

She laid me on my back and started to unbutton my awesome Batman shirt. All of a sudden I felt something bubbling in my belly and before I knew it, chunky milk was coming out my nose and mouth. Shooting out is more like it. It got all over Batman, my blanket and the basket of stuff mom uses to change me. So she stripped me down, finished changing my underpants, changed my clothes and set me on the chair so she could clean up. 

Then I spent some time in my swing. I love that thing. 

I got a little antsy so mom picked me up. She's way more comfortable anyway. Then I got tired again and started conking out. 

This is what mom sees while I'm laying on her, falling asleep:

 

 

Then she set me down so she could do the dishes. 

We did the bottle-burp-change-nap thing a few more times. Mom wrote some thank you letters, pumped for me (dang, that stuff is good), did laundry and finally got a shower in (she needed it).

She doesn't like me taking long naps later in the day, but when it starts getting dark out and I'm so cozy on the couch with her, it's really hard to stay awake. 

I woke up naked in the bathroom, laying on some towels. I was thinking, "What the...?!" I could hear the shower was on, it was really warm in there. Then I felt a nice warm washcloth rub over my head. I woke up enough to realize it was bath time. I like baths. 

It was really foggy in there. 

Mom got me all clean, wrapped me in a towel and combed my hair. She's obsessed with my hair. We went to my room and put on a diaper and my PJs. Then she gave me a nice warm bottle. She kept waking me up so I would finish that thing... it was annoying. 

Then she let me fall asleep again by snuggling me on the couch. Dad came home and woke me up a little when he took me from mom. We snuggled for a bit. Then we all headed to beddy-by. 

Today was a good Tuesday.