I’m taking this to mean that he’s ready to be potty trained.
Mitchell is 41 weeks old this week!
After his very first 41 weeks, he was still in my uterus. Because he’s stubborn. I looked like this:
In other words, giant. Look at that belly! Egads.
Now that he’s joined us in the outside world, his 41 weeks has resulted in this:
Also, giant. Look at that belly. He’s a regular ol’ Buddha boy.
This last week has been pretty mundane. He went to his second wedding last weekend, where he was a little turd and wouldn’t let anyone else hold him, but I’m sure he’ll outgrow that phase soon. Then he’ll be begging for anyone BUT me to hold him! He’s been a little clingy in general this week, but I’m sure it’s nothing. He doesn’t so much want me to hold him as just involve him in whatever I’m doing. For example, he wants to help me write this post. Keyboard mashing is helping in his world, apparently. Justin swears he saw him take a couple steps the other day, but I’m adamantly denying this. He can’t walk. I’m not above shoving him down a little (just kidding, don’t call Child Services). He’s avoiding a nap right now, but that’s getting to be normal. he’s trying to transition to one nap a day, and we’re disagreeing a little on whether or not he’s ready for that. In case you’re wondering, I say he isn’t, but I guess he is ultimately the decider. He has been so far, anyway. He learned to clap a few days ago. He’s added it to his arsenal of cute things to do to get my attention/things to do to keep himself awake. He’s also figured out that door handles are the key to opening doors, but luckily he can’t quite turn them yet. Whenever someone goes downstairs, he runs to the door and starts pulling at the door handle.
I wrote my very first paper for graduate school, which resulted in another then vs. now comparison: undergrad vs. graduate school. I used to celebrate finishing a giant paper by staying up all night and exceeding the surgeon general’s recommended intake of alcohol (at least, I’m pretty sure I did. I don’t particularly remember, because I celebrated everything in this manner). Yesterday I celebrated finishing this paper by cleaning the house and playing with baby. Oh, how things have changed!
I’m what I’m hoping was an act of pure luck, Mitchell figured out how to remove the cabinet lock today. So, he now knows how to get into cabinets, take down baby gates, and he’s getting dangerously close to opening doors. So baby-proofing may be me just moving all of our things to the attic and praying he doesn’t figure out how to get up there for the next few months.
Just in case you were wondering, he’s very proud of himself.
Mr. Mitchell is a whole 40 weeks old!
He’s learned lots of new things this week. He’s in the process of learning to play catch (see pictures below, but brace yourself for unbearable cuteness), he’s learned that doorknobs open doors (even though he doesn’t have the dexterity to turn the knob yet), he’s learned how to open and close the diaper pail, and he’s already learned to get something from Mommy, then go get something from Daddy (food now, but I’m sure money will come shortly). He loves playing peekaboo with Justin with the basement door now. Unfortunately, he’s also discovered the air vents in our house. We have the old original huge wrought iron wall vents, and he loves them. The other day right after our shower, I was in the bathroom getting ready, and he was playing with the one in the bathroom. He was sans diaper, because he had a bit of a diaper rash. Anyway, I happen to look over, and he’s standing in front of the vent, hands braced on the wall, peeing INTO the vent. No joke. So then he saw me take the vent off the wall to wipe the pee out of the duct, and he’s been trying to pull them off the wall ever since. When he isn’t throwing the ball for himself. He just loves playing ball right now. He has two, a big orange one and a small green one, and he throws them across the house and chases them, giggling the whole way. Cheap entertainment for all of us!
Oodles and oodles of pictures this week!
Unfortunately for the dogs, Mitchell is 100% mobile. He crawls, he toddles, he scoots, he does everything but walk (crossing my fingers that’s a long time coming). This leaves no safe place for the dogs. Their haven used to be the couches, but they’re not even safe there anymore.
Happy Father’s Day to all the fathers in my life – my dad, Justin’s dad, the grandfathers, and, of course, Justin.
I grew up with a great dad, and I’m so happy that Mitchell will have the same. Justin loves to plan the things he’s going to do with Mitchell. Basketball is always on the to-do list, but so is playing cards, board games, camping, fishing, golfing, and lots and lots of movies. It makes my heart melt whenever Justin gets excited about yet another thing he can teach Mitchell when the time comes.
Here are a few things I learned this Father’s Day: don’t give a kid an Icee popsicle if you want to go anywhere else or ever want him to wear that outfit again; golfing is a lot harder than it looks and it turns out I’m terrible at it; and lots of dads want to go putt putt golfing on Father’s Day. But most importantly, I learned that I can have a really great time even if I’m losing at putt putt with my dad, Justin, and Mitchell.
I’m sure most people feel blessed by the people in their lives, but I especially feel blessed. Thank you, dads, for all you do!
Dear Little Man,
You’re 9 months old now! Can you believe it?
Because I can’t. 9 months ago, at this point (because I’m a few days late), you were just getting ready to join me in my hospital room. Up until then, I visited you in the NICU. I drove the nurses crazy by begging to visit you very often. That first day when I couldn’t walk on my own and had to be wheeled to the NICU felt like weeks. I lingered in the NICU so long that it only took a couple visits for the nurses to just leave me alone with you and wait for me to ask them to wheel me back. As soon as I could walk on my own the next day, I spent the majority of my time in there with you. They kept telling me I was pushing it, but I couldn’t stand staying away.
I told myself that my obsessive attachment to you was due to those 48 hours separated from you. I said that once I got over those 48 hours, I’d start to lighten up a little. Well, 9 months have passed and I’m (not quite) as attached as ever. You stayed with your grandparents for a few hours this afternoon while we went to a movie and I definitely sped back to pick you up.
They say that from 6-9 months, some babies go through a “mommy” phase. Your “mommy” phase is definitely still lingering. You love me. Let me clarify: you LOVE me. If I’m within sight, you want me and only me. I hope your teenage self is reading this and it’s triggering some deep memory/feeling in you and you come apologize for whatever teenage smart-ass comment we’re currently arguing about. Because let me tell you, kid: me and you are INSEPARABLE right now. And it’s a-ok with me.
Know why it’s a-ok with me? Because you’re kind of awesome. You crack me up, but not half as much as you crack yourself up. You generally just enjoy life. Your grandma remarked the other day that she’s never seen a baby enjoy exploring so much. And it’s true, you love exploring. You love everything.You love exploring, you love the dogs, you especially love anything you think you shouldn’t be doing. Luckily you start to giggle whenever you think you’re about to get away with something, so I can generally catch you in time. For example, if you happen to see the bathroom door open, you start giggling and rushing for it. You mostly crawl on all fours now, but when you’re trying to rush, you still pull up the left leg. I call it your “turbocharge”. So you hit your turbocharge and start giggling, but I can usually get there before you. If not, you…well…you love water. And the bathroom has plenty of opportunities for water, only one of which is readily available at all times. Ew.
You now have two teeth and are working on a third. You stood on your own for a few seconds the other day. You toddle along the furniture easily now. You LOVE pulling daddy’s hair – leg, arm, chest, head, whatever you can get hold of. You will do anything for a laugh and you constantly watch people for their reactions. You always assume people are laughing at you (and yes, we usually are) and repeat whatever it is you were doing when the laughing started.You are obsessed with textures and go back and forth between multiples textured floors/rugs. You love being scared but you aren’t afraid of much. You love being held upside down or superman-style. Hide and seek is still very fun to you. You love it when I chase you around the coffee table. You love nursing (so much that you decided to show all your swim lesson mates exactly how convenient it is). You think it’s hilarious to push your toys under the couch. You absolutely LOVE Kingsley and Laika. I really think the first time you walk will be to get one of them. You like it when I sing Edelweiss to you as you fall asleep (joke’s on you: I just repeat the two verses I know over and over again). You hate naps and try to keep yourself awake through whatever means possible. Usually you try talking to yourself to keep yourself awake, but you’ve also been known to keep pulling the string on the music toy in your crib. Speaking of talking, you love it. Talking, yelling, blowing raspberries, giggling, pretty much any way to make noise, you love it. You yelled your way through swim class yesterday (not angrily; you couldn’t be angry in the water if you tried). You visited the doctor yesterday and we found out you’re 22 pounds and 29.5 inches long. Well, this is a a guesstimate because you wiggled way too much on the scale. But, going with that, you’re in the 75th percentile for weight, 90th percentile for height, and 80th percentile for head circumference. Basically, we’re still going with the assumption that I will be unable to put my 6 foot 5 year old in time-out.
You know, I feel like I’m doing a really terrible job of describing just how awesome you are. Sure, there are moments when you’re less than an angel, like when I’m chasing your naked butt around with a diaper begging you to just pause so I can put it on you. Or when you’ve decided that napping is not something you’d prefer to do that particular day. Or just about anytime I open the dishwasher and you pull everything within reach out (and now that you’ve learned to climb inside it, just about everything is within reach). Or when I’m trying to vacuum and you keep turning it off and on again. But the problem is, even during your less-than-angelic shenanigans, I can’t help but giggle. Because really, you’re hilarious. All you have to do is turn around and smile at me or, better yet, give me one of your big slobbery kisses (no tongue, we’ve talked about this) and everything is golden again.
I hope you never lose your happy demeanor. I hope you continue to be so enthusiastic about simply being. I hope you maintain your sense of humor. I hope that I always see your shenanigans as funny, because I have a feeling you’re going to get into quite a few doozies.
Mitchell is in full-on stinker mode. Yesterday while emptying the dishwasher, I turned around to find him in the dishwasher. So I got him down but grabbed my camera, because I knew he’d do it again. Sure enough, he did!
This is how he’s decided he wants to ride in the car. He’s happy until I tell him to sit down, then he’s like “Make me.”