Tuesday, March 25, 2014

HMB turns ONE

One.  Little HMB, you are one.  This is a big deal.  A whole year you have been in our lives.  I want to say that 95% of that time we have called you Meyer the Destroyer.  You continue to hold true to this name.  Though G is a busy dude who was up and mobile super early, I didn’t do much baby proofing.  You, however, are testing those limits.  You want into everything.  Everywhere.  You have recently, in the last week or 2, learned to throw fits when you don’t get what you want.  Griffin tried to keep you out of the kitchen cabinet the other day and you pushed him and screamed.  All 19 lbs of you.  You want me to hold you.  Lots.  You want what you want and you want it NOW. 

You do not talk as much as your brother, but realistically, who does?   No one.  Except my nephew.  You have started giving kisses.  You make the really sweet mmmmmmmmmm sound.  It’s adorable.  You also want me to pretend eat all of  your food.  I shouldn’t have started this.  I eat a lot of your food.  This is not helping with baby weight, dude.  I do love graham crackers, though.  I gave you peanut butter for the first time the other day and then watched you closely for an hour to make sure you weren’t dying.  You weren’t.  You go to bed around 6:30 (which you would prefer to be earlier.)  You LOVE your bath and splashing.  You wake up once a night to nurse.  You say, “weaning, what’s that?”  You are pretty anti weaning.   That’s another post for another time.  You usually wake up between 6:30 and 7 am.  You are down to one nap a day.  You sleep from about 1-2:30.  You put everything in your mouth.  Everything.  You want to climb the bed and play around on it like brother does.  However, you can’t seem to realize there are edges and you will fall off.  You crawl, quickly.  You really want Gizmo to be your friend.  He isn’t.  He is not happy with your choice of dedicated friendship.  You eat blueberries like they are going out of style.  Fruit.  You hate milk.  Except when you don’t.  I think you are pretty adorable.  Your brother loves you and wants you to do what he says.  I think he feels the same about me.  Sorry dude.  I think you could walk.  You refuse.  You have stood up unassisted for a good 10 seconds before you realize what is happening and then collapse to the ground.  Tricky.  Granted, I don’t mind carrying you around.  Too much.  You have zero interested in baby toys.  Zero.  We need to pack them up and send them elsewhere.  You love to cruise around furniture and turn and smile.  Peekaboo is a fun fun game.  You don’t always realize you need to put your hands over your eyes and do more of a hands on your head number.  You had a while where you crawled up to the bathroom and pushed everything sitting on the side of the tub in.  Helpful.  You LOVE your paci’s.  You have them at bedtime.  But, should you see one out when it isn’t bed time you beeline.  It’s precious.

Words.  Hi.  Mama.  Da.  (dog) Da (dad).  Bubba.  Juice (I think you said this yesterday) and Bath.  Nananana (no.)  You have said nana.  You seem to say things when you want and just don’t if you don’t want to.  You are a man with gusto. 

You are the 25% in height and weight with your head measuring at a good ol’ 50%.  Just like your NeeNee.

I had to change your birthday party because SXSW coincided.  Sorry dude.  You don't seem to mind. 

We love you.  Lots.  We don't love the shrieking that you have recently acquired.  

Don't ever change.  Except the word thing.  Oh, and always love your mama.

Friday, March 14, 2014

11 months

Your last week that we will count in months.  You are almost an ENTIRE year old.  You’ve come along way, baby.  What felt like an eternity with the billi boards(sp) (aka your tanning bed) and that whole extra day in the hospital, the three week non stop eating, the helmet, the tubes, the spit up—and we couldn’t love you more.  You feel like we just got you and like we’ve had you forever.  You are a prefect fit.

At 11 months you are a little mess who still only has four teeth.  You LOVE to wave.  Waving is your favorite.  Other than saying “dog.”  That’s your other favorite.  Or clapping.  You are quite the clapper.  Yesterday we sang if you’re happy and you know it (favorite song—sensing a theme here?) you were standing up and holding on to a door.  You could not figure out how to clap your hands so you hit yourself in the face before you sat down on the ground and got to clapping and smiling.  You recently give big mouthed kisses.  You love to take a bath.  You love to crawl away from me quickly.  It makes you laugh.  You are a mess.  You get in. to. Everything.  You want to open all cabinets and take out all contents.  When you get mad you squeal and cry.  You want everything your brother has.  You have almost zero interest in baby toys.  I don’t even know why we have them.  You still wake up in the night and want to nurse.  Speaking of nursing… you show zero interest in stopping.  You also hate milk.  You drink it and immediately spit it out.  I feel ya, dude.  You do this shy/turn away/semi teasing thing and you draw up your arm around your belly.  I call it the Bill Cosby.  You are adorable.  I think you may love your brother most of all.  You are on the move.  Slow it down, brotha.

I keep thinking you will begin to speak in sentences instead of “uh uh uh” used for everything.  Maybe you say “that” or “this”.  You also have said “nana.”  I know you can.  When we ask you questions you shake your head yes.  It’s precious.

I cannot believe that you were born ONE year ago (tomorrow.)  We love you little one.