"Don't Want to Live On the Moon"
Monday, June 25, 2012
A little nostalgia
I was YouTube-ing cute things to show Max on my iphone today, and came across this clip from Sesame Street. It's something I remember watching and adoring from my childhood... It's very simple and beautiful. I also sing this to Max at bedtime. Thought I would share :0).
Saturday, June 23, 2012
Biting the hand that feeds you
This is the first (but certainly, not last) time I have ever started a blog post having absolutely zero idea what I'm going to write about. And although I feel the creative juices dancing around, a few things are working against me in churning out a goodie: first, I am sitting in the playroom with Max clamoring up at me. I am in a chair, legs tucked up like I'm mid- cannon-ball and my laptop resting up on my collarbone so that my son can't get his oatmeal fingers on the keys. I could probably lick the screen right now, true story.
I also made the mistake of playing one round of "peekaboo" with him by pulling down the back of my laptop at random intervals. If you are a mother (or someone who has ever babysat), you see the mistake in that sentence. There is no such thing as one round of anything with a toddler.
The thought crossed my mind to wait until Max takes his first nap to sit down and blog. But that's when Mommy gets to shower - though ironically, my clothing choices for the day will parallel exactly what one might wear when nixing a shower. Sigh. "Cotton tees and shorts really do take errand comfort to the next level."
So, please bear with me, and read my entry with the knowledge that between every few sentences, I am turning to a grabby Max, gasping like I just discovered the land of free chocolate and pointing to a toy he's seen a thousand times.
Diving right in (ahem), can I just say that 10 month-olds are bomb. They are toothy (well mine is), cherub-cheeked little rugrats who stand and clap for the smallest things because they're the biggest things to them. They laugh and repeat words and are really loving the whole cause-and-effect thing. And the cuteness factor is baby-specific, too - just as the library singalong is really kicking it into high gear, you can find one of my friend's 11 month-olds contently breathing in life in downward facing dog. But along with all the good stuff that comes with this age, we are now starting the battle against one very hallmark issue: biting.
What a tricky business. We encourage our young children to "teeth" on practically everything of the non-led variety. This is how they explore the world around them, self-soothe, or just busy themselves. We don't flinch when we notice our child gnawing on Elmo's eyeballs or the cover of "Where is My Belly Button?", yet when they apply the habit to, say, our shoulder, it's a big, fat no-no.
To that end, I ask myself daily what the best approach is to squelch the act of biting people, yet as far as toys, have at it. Admittedly, I've tried lots of techniques that I have heard do the trick over time (except the ever-popular advice of, "bit 'em back. Then they'll learn!" If this has worked for you, ok, but it's just not my jam). I can tell you now that after trying out various methods, we are still finding our groove. My favorite attempt was on the advice to "sob like they hurt you real bad!". Max bit my knee. I stopped what I was doing, turned to him and said, "Ouch, Max, that hurt Mommy!", then proceeded to bury my head in my hands and 'cry' with the feigned authenticity of a gold-digging widow. I boo-hoo'd in the palms of my hands, then looked up only to find Max grinning from ear to ear and going for round two in a fit of euphoria. If I had been the neurotic "me" of 8 or so months ago, I would have been convinced we were raising a sociopath. I would lie awake in bed at night, clutching to my husband and a flashlight and staring at the door in anticipation of it slowly opening to reveal a salivating toddler with a deviant twinkle in his eye. I'd have nightmares about shark teeth. And bear teeth. And molars and the dentist and then maybe that little basket of dum-dums up at the front desk for after you survived your appointment, those were cute. But then more shark teeth. I might have searched Max's crib mattress for a shank.
But anyway.
Then there was the time that I simply snapped, "NO biting Mommy!" and raised my finger to him. This was quickly followed by, "NO biting Mommy's finger!"
As with creating most new behaviors, Josh and I are now banking on the concept of patience. We consistently tell him "Ouch, no biting Mommy/Daddy/insert victim here", and "kiss instead, Max, like this!" He seems to bite when he is very happy or excited, which I hear is normal. It's just that Max is always happy and/or excited, which may be slightly less than normal. At any rate, I'll let you know how it turns out - or, perhaps you'll learn for yourselves, just keep tuning in to the 5 o'clock news.
I also made the mistake of playing one round of "peekaboo" with him by pulling down the back of my laptop at random intervals. If you are a mother (or someone who has ever babysat), you see the mistake in that sentence. There is no such thing as one round of anything with a toddler.
The thought crossed my mind to wait until Max takes his first nap to sit down and blog. But that's when Mommy gets to shower - though ironically, my clothing choices for the day will parallel exactly what one might wear when nixing a shower. Sigh. "Cotton tees and shorts really do take errand comfort to the next level."
So, please bear with me, and read my entry with the knowledge that between every few sentences, I am turning to a grabby Max, gasping like I just discovered the land of free chocolate and pointing to a toy he's seen a thousand times.
Diving right in (ahem), can I just say that 10 month-olds are bomb. They are toothy (well mine is), cherub-cheeked little rugrats who stand and clap for the smallest things because they're the biggest things to them. They laugh and repeat words and are really loving the whole cause-and-effect thing. And the cuteness factor is baby-specific, too - just as the library singalong is really kicking it into high gear, you can find one of my friend's 11 month-olds contently breathing in life in downward facing dog. But along with all the good stuff that comes with this age, we are now starting the battle against one very hallmark issue: biting.
What a tricky business. We encourage our young children to "teeth" on practically everything of the non-led variety. This is how they explore the world around them, self-soothe, or just busy themselves. We don't flinch when we notice our child gnawing on Elmo's eyeballs or the cover of "Where is My Belly Button?", yet when they apply the habit to, say, our shoulder, it's a big, fat no-no.
To that end, I ask myself daily what the best approach is to squelch the act of biting people, yet as far as toys, have at it. Admittedly, I've tried lots of techniques that I have heard do the trick over time (except the ever-popular advice of, "bit 'em back. Then they'll learn!" If this has worked for you, ok, but it's just not my jam). I can tell you now that after trying out various methods, we are still finding our groove. My favorite attempt was on the advice to "sob like they hurt you real bad!". Max bit my knee. I stopped what I was doing, turned to him and said, "Ouch, Max, that hurt Mommy!", then proceeded to bury my head in my hands and 'cry' with the feigned authenticity of a gold-digging widow. I boo-hoo'd in the palms of my hands, then looked up only to find Max grinning from ear to ear and going for round two in a fit of euphoria. If I had been the neurotic "me" of 8 or so months ago, I would have been convinced we were raising a sociopath. I would lie awake in bed at night, clutching to my husband and a flashlight and staring at the door in anticipation of it slowly opening to reveal a salivating toddler with a deviant twinkle in his eye. I'd have nightmares about shark teeth. And bear teeth. And molars and the dentist and then maybe that little basket of dum-dums up at the front desk for after you survived your appointment, those were cute. But then more shark teeth. I might have searched Max's crib mattress for a shank.
But anyway.
Then there was the time that I simply snapped, "NO biting Mommy!" and raised my finger to him. This was quickly followed by, "NO biting Mommy's finger!"
As with creating most new behaviors, Josh and I are now banking on the concept of patience. We consistently tell him "Ouch, no biting Mommy/Daddy/insert victim here", and "kiss instead, Max, like this!" He seems to bite when he is very happy or excited, which I hear is normal. It's just that Max is always happy and/or excited, which may be slightly less than normal. At any rate, I'll let you know how it turns out - or, perhaps you'll learn for yourselves, just keep tuning in to the 5 o'clock news.
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| can you hear the theme from Jaws? I can. |
Saturday, June 16, 2012
His Day.
As everyone in the free-speaking world knows- especially Hallmark - tomorrow is Father's Day. Since I know I will be too busy spending quality time with my family to write, I thought I'd jot down a few notes on this Father's Day Eve.
Tomorrow will mark my husband's very first Father's Day. This is significant. Two years ago on Father's Day, I surpised Josh with the news that we were pregnant. A few weeks later, I miscarried. The following Father's Day, I was nearing the end of my pregnancy with Max, and we talked about the fact that Max will be almost a YEAR OLD by the time Josh celebrates his first official Father's Day for realsies. The thought of our unborn son turning one year old was enough to make our heads spin.
And in the blink of an eye, here we are. Our bubbly, bobbling little sweetheart talks, explores, and laughs up a storm each and every day, and each and every day we just watch him in amazement. So tomorrow we get to celebrate Daddy, without whom we would not have this little boy who amazes us so.
As Josh and I were dating and getting to know each other, I asked him what he had always wanted to be growing up. "A Dad", he stated. Yes, professional baseball player and I'm sure archeologist snuck their way onto many an elementary school homework sheet (really - I dare you to find someone who never, at some point as a child, wanted to be an archeologist). But as his abstract cognitive skills grew with age, and as soon as he could conceptualize what fatherhood actually entailed - bam. That was the pinnacle. That was the goal. Now although being a father comes with a ton of responsibility, it alone doesn't pay the bills. So Josh selflessly started moonlighting as an Abe Lincoln impersonator at political functions.
Just seeing if I've lost ya.
No. He goes to work authentically passionate about what he does, with a drive to succeed so that he can provide for his family. As devoted as he is to his work, he is such simply to support his devotion to Max and I.
Every day, Josh looks at our son with the pride and love of having achieved his greatest goal in life. Not by having a kid - not by having a son even - but by having Max. It is no surprise to me that every time we hear the garage door open at around 5:00, Max stops everything he is doing, crawls in a few circles out of sheer excitment, then bee-lines it for the door to greet Dada at his feet.
I would be remiss if I didn't mention one extrordinary man who we can only celebrate in spirit. My dad, who passed away 11 years ago, was one of the greatest fathers on the planet. I could write hundreds of posts on his character alone, but the point that is so important for me to make here, now, is that had they met, my dad would have so loved Josh, for my husband and for the father of our child. He would have seen in Josh the same qualities I noticed right away and held on to like the treasures that they are.
I so look forward to telling Max about all the special times he and his Dad spent together when he was just a little booger (and if he doesn't believe me, do you think I'll have enough pictures to prove it?). Bath time, shower time, dancing in the nursery, "the scissors leg shake" (I'm sure you can piece that one together), swimming, sitting on Daddy's shoulders. If the memories already being made are any indication of what is to come, I am left with nothing but overwhelming gratitude that this is the man I married, that this is Max's father.
Tomorrow will mark my husband's very first Father's Day. This is significant. Two years ago on Father's Day, I surpised Josh with the news that we were pregnant. A few weeks later, I miscarried. The following Father's Day, I was nearing the end of my pregnancy with Max, and we talked about the fact that Max will be almost a YEAR OLD by the time Josh celebrates his first official Father's Day for realsies. The thought of our unborn son turning one year old was enough to make our heads spin.
And in the blink of an eye, here we are. Our bubbly, bobbling little sweetheart talks, explores, and laughs up a storm each and every day, and each and every day we just watch him in amazement. So tomorrow we get to celebrate Daddy, without whom we would not have this little boy who amazes us so.
As Josh and I were dating and getting to know each other, I asked him what he had always wanted to be growing up. "A Dad", he stated. Yes, professional baseball player and I'm sure archeologist snuck their way onto many an elementary school homework sheet (really - I dare you to find someone who never, at some point as a child, wanted to be an archeologist). But as his abstract cognitive skills grew with age, and as soon as he could conceptualize what fatherhood actually entailed - bam. That was the pinnacle. That was the goal. Now although being a father comes with a ton of responsibility, it alone doesn't pay the bills. So Josh selflessly started moonlighting as an Abe Lincoln impersonator at political functions.
Just seeing if I've lost ya.
No. He goes to work authentically passionate about what he does, with a drive to succeed so that he can provide for his family. As devoted as he is to his work, he is such simply to support his devotion to Max and I.
Every day, Josh looks at our son with the pride and love of having achieved his greatest goal in life. Not by having a kid - not by having a son even - but by having Max. It is no surprise to me that every time we hear the garage door open at around 5:00, Max stops everything he is doing, crawls in a few circles out of sheer excitment, then bee-lines it for the door to greet Dada at his feet.
I would be remiss if I didn't mention one extrordinary man who we can only celebrate in spirit. My dad, who passed away 11 years ago, was one of the greatest fathers on the planet. I could write hundreds of posts on his character alone, but the point that is so important for me to make here, now, is that had they met, my dad would have so loved Josh, for my husband and for the father of our child. He would have seen in Josh the same qualities I noticed right away and held on to like the treasures that they are.
I so look forward to telling Max about all the special times he and his Dad spent together when he was just a little booger (and if he doesn't believe me, do you think I'll have enough pictures to prove it?). Bath time, shower time, dancing in the nursery, "the scissors leg shake" (I'm sure you can piece that one together), swimming, sitting on Daddy's shoulders. If the memories already being made are any indication of what is to come, I am left with nothing but overwhelming gratitude that this is the man I married, that this is Max's father.
Happy Father's Day, my love!
XOXOXOXO ADED
Sunday, June 10, 2012
Vogue, y'all.
So this post is going to have to be short as I have limited time - Josh and I are leaving soon for dinner and a show at Gammage (Broadway Across America season tickets = money well spent, if not for the theatre than certainly the people watching!).
Last week, Josh, Max and I invested in a professional family photo shoot now that the little booger's expressions almost always surpass that of wide-eyes or gas. We'd been looking forward to this day for months, planning out our little outfits and conjuring up images fit for a Nordie's catalog. Max would be looking up at his Daddy, smiling from ear to ear as Daddy and Mommy struck perfect, I'm-not-even-trying-to-pose-and-yet-all-the-right-parts-are-skinny-at-this-angle positions.The photographer would snap some shots, then slowly lower the camera down from her face to look at us proudly because we were making her job so fun and rewarding. There are happy tears involved.
So that's the fantasy, right?
Last Sunday started out just how I'd planned, inasmuch as Max was put into the outfit I'd wanted him in. After that, everything's kind of a blur.
Max's molars decided to show face that day, equating to a mouth full of fingers for the better part of the shoot, a squinting look for reasons I'm still unsure of, and the most major flare-up of seperation anxiety to date. The photographer was incredible and tried so hard to entertain Max in looking toward the lense, but efforts were futile as he whined and squirmed in our arms, not really knowing what he wanted. I knew it was a less than stellar shoot when the photographer starting apologizing to us. Adding icing to the cake of misfortune, Josh and I then attempted explaining to this lovely girl how Max is "usually SO happy"; "he's never like this, it's so weird!"; "he's seriously laughing and clapping all the time - even this morning right before you came over!". Even though she smiled, nodded and blindly agreed, I could see the glazed over look that comes with the territory of listening to new parents explain their kid.
That being said, I was positive that no good shots would come out of this photo session (to no fault of the photographer - she was incredible and we plan to use her again!). So I was as suprised as anybody when the photographer posted a "sneak peek" photo from our session on her facebook page. And it wasn't half bad at all:
Until next time,
Hk
Last week, Josh, Max and I invested in a professional family photo shoot now that the little booger's expressions almost always surpass that of wide-eyes or gas. We'd been looking forward to this day for months, planning out our little outfits and conjuring up images fit for a Nordie's catalog. Max would be looking up at his Daddy, smiling from ear to ear as Daddy and Mommy struck perfect, I'm-not-even-trying-to-pose-and-yet-all-the-right-parts-are-skinny-at-this-angle positions.The photographer would snap some shots, then slowly lower the camera down from her face to look at us proudly because we were making her job so fun and rewarding. There are happy tears involved.
So that's the fantasy, right?
Last Sunday started out just how I'd planned, inasmuch as Max was put into the outfit I'd wanted him in. After that, everything's kind of a blur.
Max's molars decided to show face that day, equating to a mouth full of fingers for the better part of the shoot, a squinting look for reasons I'm still unsure of, and the most major flare-up of seperation anxiety to date. The photographer was incredible and tried so hard to entertain Max in looking toward the lense, but efforts were futile as he whined and squirmed in our arms, not really knowing what he wanted. I knew it was a less than stellar shoot when the photographer starting apologizing to us. Adding icing to the cake of misfortune, Josh and I then attempted explaining to this lovely girl how Max is "usually SO happy"; "he's never like this, it's so weird!"; "he's seriously laughing and clapping all the time - even this morning right before you came over!". Even though she smiled, nodded and blindly agreed, I could see the glazed over look that comes with the territory of listening to new parents explain their kid.
That being said, I was positive that no good shots would come out of this photo session (to no fault of the photographer - she was incredible and we plan to use her again!). So I was as suprised as anybody when the photographer posted a "sneak peek" photo from our session on her facebook page. And it wasn't half bad at all:
I am very excited to see how the rest came out and will be sure to share! In addition to photographer and pediatric nurse, this girl can add "miracle worker" to her resume as far as I'm concerned. If you are interested in a great photographer in the valley, look no further than Kristin Celestina.
Until next time,
Hk
Hilahhhrious.
My father in law emailed me this the other day and I got a real kick out of it, obviously because each scenario is so true! Enjoy:
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| Word. |
Thursday, June 7, 2012
Mine.
Almost every Thursday, a group of mommy friends gets together for a playdate so that the kiddos can play with each other and get their energy out while we moms get our energy back. Max and I attended this week's playdate at the Scottsdale Quarter's splash pad, an area of shallow "splash" water with scattered fountains that spew up every few minutes. It is literally the perfect place to take the wee ones as the temperatures crawl to a makeup-melting 104 degrees.
Before all the splashing fun commenced, we spread out our blankets and unpacked our increasingly stocked diaper bags. Toys, sippy cups, and snacks adorned our area like sprinkles on a cupcake (I am hungry). Now, I'm no parenting expert, but I'd venture totake an educated guess Google that the concept of "sharing" is totally lost on a 10 month old. How can they possibly yet know that taking an object straight out of a peer's hands and adopting it as their own plaything is socially frowned upon? That being said, after observing Max's interactions with the other sweet poopsies at the splash pad, I can tell you that this "sharing" thing is going to be a doozy. As Max swats away his own, brand new sippy cup in an attempt to maniacally crawl toward his unsuspecting friend to snatch THAT KID'S sippy, I can only wonder what is going through my son's head:
"Oh good, my sippy cup has arrived. Amazon is so swift. Thanks for delivering this to me."
"Let me show you what that looks like in my hands. You'll love it."
"If you're trying to win my affections, it worked. Hand it over."
"I will take this and I will call it my squishy and it shall be my squishy."
"I'm just gonna check if that water is mineralized."
"You found my sippy! Man, if my head wasn't attached to my body..."
"Funny story.... I'm about to take that from you. Hmm. Guess it's not that funny after all."
Which leads me to our next first: Max's first tantrum! Sound the trumpets.
Max saved his very first tantrum to be witnessed by dozens at our neighborhood library's singalong. It, too, was sparked by the taking of another baby's sippy cup. As he slowly drew the spout up to his mouth, I unclenched his fingers from the handle and pulled it out of his possession. And as I did so, I heard the ominous rumblings that can only be rivaled by the built up pressure of magma in a volcano. You know what's coming.
He wailed and wailed, engaging in the most textbook of tantrum behaviors: flailing his body backward and turning into dead weight. As I stifled a giggle deep into the pit of my stomach, I knew this one had to be documented as a real first. God bless the singalong teacher for sailing right into a rousing rendition of Where is Thumbkin.
I love you, my little stinkpot.
Before all the splashing fun commenced, we spread out our blankets and unpacked our increasingly stocked diaper bags. Toys, sippy cups, and snacks adorned our area like sprinkles on a cupcake (I am hungry). Now, I'm no parenting expert, but I'd venture to
"Oh good, my sippy cup has arrived. Amazon is so swift. Thanks for delivering this to me."
"Let me show you what that looks like in my hands. You'll love it."
"If you're trying to win my affections, it worked. Hand it over."
"I will take this and I will call it my squishy and it shall be my squishy."
"I'm just gonna check if that water is mineralized."
"You found my sippy! Man, if my head wasn't attached to my body..."
"Funny story.... I'm about to take that from you. Hmm. Guess it's not that funny after all."
Which leads me to our next first: Max's first tantrum! Sound the trumpets.
Max saved his very first tantrum to be witnessed by dozens at our neighborhood library's singalong. It, too, was sparked by the taking of another baby's sippy cup. As he slowly drew the spout up to his mouth, I unclenched his fingers from the handle and pulled it out of his possession. And as I did so, I heard the ominous rumblings that can only be rivaled by the built up pressure of magma in a volcano. You know what's coming.
He wailed and wailed, engaging in the most textbook of tantrum behaviors: flailing his body backward and turning into dead weight. As I stifled a giggle deep into the pit of my stomach, I knew this one had to be documented as a real first. God bless the singalong teacher for sailing right into a rousing rendition of Where is Thumbkin.
I love you, my little stinkpot.
Tuesday, June 5, 2012
Taking a Stand
Greetings, friends! I am back after an admittedly lengthy hiatus to share with you all the latest goings on in the Kaplan family. For starters, Max is 10. Months. Old. Holy ass crackers. We have just recieved his 1 year birthday invitations that I ordered in the mail and I swear, if I hadn't placed the order myself and was not anticipating their arrival to my doorstep, reading the invitation in print may have caused me to seize. One year old. It's coming, and FAST (sniff sniff).
Things that have occurred over the course of my blogging hiatus: Max has been sick once, pseudo sick once (teething- hello, molars, you are about a million months early), noticed his shadow for the first time, cruising and standing on his own, mastered the sippy cup, first road trip and overnight at a hotel, our first Mother's Day, and white cheddar cheese doodles. Ok that last one hasn't necessarily 'occurred' so much as been a constant in our pantry, but they're worth noting 'cause they're soooo good and are always there for mommy.
Extracting at random one of the momentous events in our life mentioned above: Taking our "Kaplan Journey" to the most literal of interpretations, Max, Daddy and I ventured out onto the open road last month for a family reunion. Ever the expeditioners, the family decided to commence from all across the country in the most primal of locations: Vegas. While I had some anticipatory reservations (read: bit my nails to the knuckle) about Max in a car for 5 hours, I cannot tell you how PROUD I am to report that he was absolutely incredible on our trip. Slept 12 hours straight through his very first night in a hotel. Mind you, we got a suite with an extra enclosed "wing" for him and re-created his nursery down to the nightlight, but let's give credit where it's due, shall we?
Our time with Josh's dad's side of the family was wonderful...it was so great spending time with them all and we are already looking forward to the next reunion!
Max has a ton of hair. I really can't make a seemless segue into this one. It's getting blonder, if you can believe it, and it has started to curl at the ends. Very beachy, which is a real hoot as his mom's a natural brunette from Chicago. He continues to snap, loves being "surprised", and kicks with joy on the changing table. I'm not dramatic or anything, but I will die a thousand deaths when that stops happening. Hell I practically fell to the floor the day his original bottle of baby lotion ran out. At least his thighs are still chubby sacks of whale blubber.
Big Announcement: Max is finished with physical therapy! He has made so much progress over the past 8 months: he weight-shifts to both sides, crawls normally, and the greatest achievement of all-No More Tilt! Yes, the Tilt (head tilt to one side due to weak left neck muscles) is now a thing of blog archives. His head is totally level, so when he's whining at you because you're sitting on the COUCH in the playroom instead of on the FLOOR with HIM, he can look you straight in the eye.
Speaking of things being over, Max has also completed his first round of swimming lessons. I am so proud of the little guy; he loves the pool and splashing around and is a happy fishy going under water. He could use a little more practice in keeping his mouth shut when going under to avoid swallowing half the pool, however. As soon as we give him the generous cue of "One, Two, Three, Under!", the kid opens his mouth like Pavarotti in the first act of Turandot.
But a perfect child would make for a pretty boring blog, don't ya think?
-hk-
Things that have occurred over the course of my blogging hiatus: Max has been sick once, pseudo sick once (teething- hello, molars, you are about a million months early), noticed his shadow for the first time, cruising and standing on his own, mastered the sippy cup, first road trip and overnight at a hotel, our first Mother's Day, and white cheddar cheese doodles. Ok that last one hasn't necessarily 'occurred' so much as been a constant in our pantry, but they're worth noting 'cause they're soooo good and are always there for mommy.
Extracting at random one of the momentous events in our life mentioned above: Taking our "Kaplan Journey" to the most literal of interpretations, Max, Daddy and I ventured out onto the open road last month for a family reunion. Ever the expeditioners, the family decided to commence from all across the country in the most primal of locations: Vegas. While I had some anticipatory reservations (read: bit my nails to the knuckle) about Max in a car for 5 hours, I cannot tell you how PROUD I am to report that he was absolutely incredible on our trip. Slept 12 hours straight through his very first night in a hotel. Mind you, we got a suite with an extra enclosed "wing" for him and re-created his nursery down to the nightlight, but let's give credit where it's due, shall we?
Our time with Josh's dad's side of the family was wonderful...it was so great spending time with them all and we are already looking forward to the next reunion!
Max has a ton of hair. I really can't make a seemless segue into this one. It's getting blonder, if you can believe it, and it has started to curl at the ends. Very beachy, which is a real hoot as his mom's a natural brunette from Chicago. He continues to snap, loves being "surprised", and kicks with joy on the changing table. I'm not dramatic or anything, but I will die a thousand deaths when that stops happening. Hell I practically fell to the floor the day his original bottle of baby lotion ran out. At least his thighs are still chubby sacks of whale blubber.
Big Announcement: Max is finished with physical therapy! He has made so much progress over the past 8 months: he weight-shifts to both sides, crawls normally, and the greatest achievement of all-No More Tilt! Yes, the Tilt (head tilt to one side due to weak left neck muscles) is now a thing of blog archives. His head is totally level, so when he's whining at you because you're sitting on the COUCH in the playroom instead of on the FLOOR with HIM, he can look you straight in the eye.
Speaking of things being over, Max has also completed his first round of swimming lessons. I am so proud of the little guy; he loves the pool and splashing around and is a happy fishy going under water. He could use a little more practice in keeping his mouth shut when going under to avoid swallowing half the pool, however. As soon as we give him the generous cue of "One, Two, Three, Under!", the kid opens his mouth like Pavarotti in the first act of Turandot.
But a perfect child would make for a pretty boring blog, don't ya think?
-hk-
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| I will be perfection on this road trip and you will want to reward me with many things |
.JPG) |
| Blondie |
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Gee, Mom, the Paris feel exactly like the Cave Creek!.JPG) |
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