The Big-Kid Bed

That whole big-kid bed thing? Exhausting. Let me tell you how our first night went.

It started out okay. I read to Milo like usual, then snuggled him like usual, then laid him down in his big enormous bed. He actually was pretty good about it. He laid down without a fuss and went to sleep like normal. I was a little emotional, and before I went to bed I peeked in on him, just to watch him sleep in such a huge bed for the first time. And all was well until about 4:00am, when I awoke to the sound of my frantic child screaming his damn head off.

He had fallen off the bed and wedged himself, head down, between the mattress and the dresser. He was stuck and couldn't right himself. It was all pretty much over after that. Even after being rescued, pacified, and diaper-freshened, he couldn't calm down. I went in and sat with him and tried to convince him to lay back down and go to sleep. He either wanted to jump on the bed or flip out and cry. After ten minutes of this, I did get him to lay down, so I quickly made my exit. But half an hour later, he was awake (again or still, I'm not sure). Upset again, it looked like he needed a little extra comfort. And since it was his first night without the crib, I indulged him and sat down next to him.

For awhile, he refused to lay down and calm down. He just kept sitting up, staring off into the ceiling and saying "ghost! ghost!" in a worried voice. I gotta say, he was kind of freaking me out with the ghost thing. And he was not seeming tired at all. After awhile, I was ready to give up. I figured maybe if I wasn't there, he would have no one to entertain or be entertained by and might lay down and go to sleep. I told him that it wasn't time to wake up yet, so Mommy was going to go back to bed and he could lay down when he was ready.

He freaked out, saying "No, Mommy!" and flung himself on top of me. So I hugged him and rubbed his back, and literally 30 seconds later he was out, snoring in my ear. I held him like that for about five minutes, but he was sort of on my throat and I had to move him. I shifted him over so he was laying on the bed, which of course woke him up and we were back to freaked-out Milo. I pulled him back toward me and snuggled him close, and again he fell asleep immediately. So this is it, I thought. I'm here for the rest of the night. I had his teeny blanket over my feet and an even teenier blanket sort of over my shoulder, but I was freezing. Milo got about another hour, maybe hour and a half, of sleep, but I pretty much barely dozed. 

I have to say, though, I enjoyed cuddling with Milo like that. He hasn't actually fallen asleep on me since he was much, much younger. It felt good to be the only thing that would comfort him.

And of course in the morning we praised him for being such a big boy and told him how proud we were that he slept in his big-kid bed. We're hoping the positive reinforcement will go a long way. Night 2 was tougher, he didn't want to lay down at all, then woke up way too early and couldn't go back to sleep. And naptimes have been...short. Tonight is night 3, and he laid down without a fuss. Crossing my fingers that he sleeps straight through the night without incident. We're all way too tired for the 4am wake-up call.

I don't want him to grow up.

I just laid Milo down in his crib for the very last time. Then I cried big fat tears. Tomorrow night Milo is moving to his big-kid bed, a twin mattress on the floor. And I am not liking seeing my baby grow up. Right this second, picturing him laying there in his crib tonight, I'm tearing up again. He's getting so big, but he's still so small. He's still my baby, even though I keep telling him what a big boy he is. I wonder if seeing him tomorrow night in his enormous bed will make me believe it.

Belly Update

Here's me at 33 weeks, 2 days, wearing one of the few shirts that easily covers my entire belly. Can someone please explain to me why MATERNITY CLOTHES quit fitting at around 30 weeks?

Milo's 21-Month Update

Wow, this monthly update caught me by surprise. How can it be the 21st already? Didn't I just write one of these updates?

What is Milo up to these days? He's huge, for one. Likely still hovering around 30-32 pounds, and getting taller all the time. He is maybe half an inch from bonking his head on the underside of our kitchen counter. I dread the day he first stands up under the counter and hits his head. Hard. There will be much howling and shedding of tears.

Physically, Milo is active. He runs, he jumps, he climbs. Sometimes he seems to push himself to see just what he can do. The other day he was leaning on the coffee table, then decided to put his feet up on the couch. So his feet on the couch, his hands on the coffee table, he pushed himself up into a pyramid. Made me nervous. Did not want to see him slip and bang his entire face on the table.

Speaking of that, Milo almost always has a bruise somewhere. He is currently sporting a large bruise just under his eyebrow, another on his cheek, some scratches along his jawline, and a large bruise on his forearm. I only know of the origins of one of these battle scars. 

Milo is getting pretty good at testing the limits. He knows he should not get near the fireplace when it is hot, but he'll just barely perch on the edge of the hearth, then look at me slyly, wondering if I'm going to tell him no. It's really time for me and Andrew to figure out our plan for disciplining, as reminding him over and over again what is against the rules is not really getting us anywhere. Milo is a good kid, and he generally doesn't keep trying to do the misbehavior when we tell him to stop, but it's that five or ten minutes later he's doing it again that is problematic. I'm afraid he's just going to be running over us before long if we don't learn how to reinforce the rules (of which there are not many, really).

Milo loves music. He is always asking for a song. Whining for a song, really. He is especially entranced by the musical tabletop Christmas tree decoration we have, and will demand "more song" over and over. And every time we say "Ask nicely, Milo. What do you say?" and he frantically slaps at his chest, giving the sign for please. Man, he loves that tree. He also loves dancing, and does this awesome dance where he madly swings his arms, kind of twisting around and bouncing. The other day he was exuberantly clapping when a song came on, and he accidentally whacked me in the face. 

He seems to have really picked up on the concept of Santa Claus in the last couple of weeks. "An Cwaus," he says, "oh, oh, oh." He recognizes reindeer. He thoroughly enjoys listening to the book Grandma and Grandpa recorded for him last year, Hallmark's "The Night Before Christmas" Recordable Storybook. At the end he waves to Santa and says "Byebye An Cwaus."

Language continues to get better and better. Pronunciation is better, he is always using new words or new phrases. He has started saying "uh-oh, spaghetti o's," though it sounds more like "uh-oh, etti o's." He uses adjectives all the time and is figuring out how to describe objects. He crosses his arms and says "Brrrr, cold," and shivers. He has trouble getting all the sounds or syllables in when he's trying to say something with a lot of them. Snowman becomes no-man. Dinosaur is dine-saur. Bathtub is Ath-tub His r's often sound like w's. Twuck. Twee. He makes animal sounds out of nowhere and has started panting like a puppy. He's utterly charming.

He still likes to give my belly kisses. Not sure how much he knows about the upcoming baby. He has repeated her name, but can't tell you what it is if you ask (so don't even try!). We're moving Milo to his big boy bed, a twin mattress on the floor, in just a couple days. I have no idea how he's going to do with this. We've been reading a lot about how Elmo went from a crib to a big kids' bed, so I hope that's helping prepare him.

He has peed on the potty about three times. We always give him an opportunity to sit on the potty before he gets in the bathtub, and so far those three times have been purely accidental. But we make a big freaking deal about how great it was that he did that and how big he's getting and all that, and this last time he actually clapped along with Daddy and seemed to soak up the praise. And he occasionally comments out of the blue, "peepee," and sort of touches his pants, and we're pretty sure that he knows he just peed. All good steps toward potty training, I think, though it's still a ways off realistically. 

Milo is definitely getting to be a little toddler with his own opinions. He equally charms and frustrates me on a daily basis. Sometimes I have absolutely no idea what to do with him, and I think, really? We're really about to have another and I haven't even figured out the first one yet? But I suppose I'll never figure it out. He's always going to be throwing another curve ball at me. And that's just fine by me.

I should get out more, if this is all I have to talk about.

This morning Milo took a shower with Daddy, then, just like every time he showers with Daddy, he ran around naked until Andrew got dressed. Except this morning was not like every other time. This time Milo came into the bedroom (where I was still in bed), played with the buttons on my alarm clock, then squatted, grunted, and pooped on the floor. Then he stepped on the poop.

Andrew scooped up Milo and took him into the other room to get cleaned up and diapered. I cleaned the poop from the carpet. And after it was all over with, my only thought was, "Huh, I really should've taken a picture of the poop before picking it up." Ah, parenthood.

Crazy!

Oh my, are these hormones making me crazy today! I have cried at no fewer than four blog posts, and I'm just a big pile of sap.

Plus, I desperately want to organize our pantry, but every evening I lack the energy to do much more than try to find a position on the couch where my back doesn't hurt. I guess my nesting instinct isn't quite strong enough yet for me to get motivated to actually do any pantry organizing. How many weeks along do you suppose I need to be for that? It better kick in soon, because my balance is already shot to hell, and organizing the pantry involves a lot of stooping and standing and reaching way into the back to grab (and discard) the years-old lentils that are still hanging around for some unknown reason. But the pantry must get organized soon. I have cookies to bake, and I need to know just how much brown sugar we have.

How about sticking to onesies, then?

This morning Milo came over to me, frantically waving his hand toward me and making the best sounds he could to get my attention. "What is it, Sweetie?" I asked him.

Upon closer inspection, I saw that he had poop all over his hand. And he did not like it one little bit.

He had apparently reached down into his pants post-poop for reasons I do not really understand, and gotten the goods all over his hand. And part of his shirt.

So yeah, that happened. At least he didn't fingerpaint all over the walls with his own feces or anything. And while I'm not naive enough to think this will be the last time my son grabs a handful of his own poop, I hope we don't repeat this often.

Milo's First Hand Turkey

It's fancy, too, with paint and everything. It's a good thing we send Milo to daycare. My art projects with him would not be nearly so ambitious.

29 Weeks 3 Days Pregnant

Another belly shot. About three pounds of baby in there, and my back is starting to feel it.

Milo's First Haircut

Just one day before he turned 20 months old, Milo finally got his first haircut. And honestly, he barely needed it. He just had this shaggy rat-tail/mullet thing going on in the back that had to be taken care of. Getting a first haircut is one of those traditional firsts for babies/toddlers. You take photos, you save a lock of that baby-fine hair. And then you marvel at how grown up your baby looks.

Also, if you're me, you turn into a big ball of sappy sobbing mush on the way to the haircut. It just made me so sad, to think that my baby was suddenly not going to look like my baby anymore (spoiler alert: he still totally looked like my baby afterward). And the more firsts Milo experiences, the fewer there are left. And when all the firsts are over, what then? He'll just be a big kid, and my first baby will be gone. The whole thing made me a little emotional.

But the actual haircutting experience was wonderful. We went to Sugar & Spice, a kids-only salon, and it was incredible. Little cars for the kids to sit in, TVs to watch during the cut, and lots of toys and things around to play with before and after. I definitely recommend this place, even though paying that much for a kid's haircut seems sort of ridiculous. And yet, I will totally go back when Milo needs his next haircut, probably sometime in 2013.

Enough talk. Time for photos.

Digging the car.

Before.

Mesmerized by the television.

I'll miss that crazy baby hair.

He sat completely still for the entire haircut. Gripped the steering wheel and stared at the TV. We didn't even have to break out the Cheerios.

Watching Daddy in the mirror.

Clearly pleased with his new style.

Saying "cheese!" Pretty cute, for a not-quite-in-focus photo.

20 Months

Ahhh, 20 months old. I feel like two years is creeping up on us way too fast. I'm not the mom of a baby anymore, I'm the mom of a little boy. At least for another couple months. Then I'll be the mom of both. And don't even get me started on THAT.

Let's see, where to start? How about with the news that Milo got his very first haircut yesterday? I won't go into details, full story and photos to come shortly, but I will say that I can't believe my hairless baby needed a haircut. They grow up so fast, don't they?

Anyway. Let's talk affection. Milo has taken to kissing my belly and saying "mwah." He's kissing the baby, and it's pretty damn cute. At least it's cute until he winds up basically wiping his nose on my shirt. That's kind of gross. Milo also will give me kisses sometimes when I ask for them, and occasionally just out of the blue. Those surprise kisses are my favorite. He gives excellent hugs, but not typically when asked for a hug. Everything has to be on Milo's terms these days.

Which leads me to temperament. Milo certainly has a mind of his own and wants to make his own decisions. When we're about to go upstairs, he'll turn to me and with arms outstretched, say "Up!" When I say, "Can you say 'please,' Milo?" He'll consider it, then turn around and start to climb the stairs on his own. He'd rather just climb up than say please because he was asked to. However, he will say please—only in sign language—for many things, like a drink of water or more snacks. He doesn't say "thank you" unprompted, but will when asked to say it (most of the time).

Milo has taken to calling everything "mine." My water, my milk, my coat, my socks. He'll screech, "Miiiiinnnne!" if he thinks his property is being threatened. I have a feeling this trait is going to get old really fast over the next couple of months.

One interesting characteristic that has really started to come out in Milo is his fear/dislike of being in trouble or being reprimanded. He doesn't often do things that make us really use our stern voices, but when we do speak sternly to him, he just can't take it. His whole face shows sadness and worry, and he starts bawling. It's obvious that he needs reassurance that we still love him and that he's not bad. It takes him probably five minutes, which is an eternity in toddlerland, to get over it and go back to being happy. And it isn't like we put him in timeout or spank him or yell at him or anything. It's just, you know, using a little firmer tone of voice to explain that what's he's doing is not okay and he should listen to Mommy and Daddy. I think that Andrew and I were both like this as kids, this thing about not wanting to be in trouble. It might make disciplining Milo a relatively easy thing over the long haul. (knock on wood)

Language: more and more two-word phrases, occasionally a three-worder. Lots and lots of lengthy strings of babbling that I just know in his mind is perfectly clear sentences. Unfortunately I can't understand any of it, which can get frustrating for him sometimes. He's started using alternate words for things, like instead of "yes" he'll say "uh-huh" or "mm-hmmm." He learned that turkeys say "gobblegobblegobble" and his little high-pitched voice gobbling is adorable. 

Milo still loves coloring, and he wants us to write "M" all the time. He knows star, circle, R, M, triangle, and square. If you ask him what color it is, everything is green.

He loves listening to music, hearing me and Daddy sing, and dancing. He swings his arms back and forth, sort of bends forward, and stomps his feet. He's an awesome dancer. 

Current favorite books are: When Dinosaurs Came With Everything, aka "Dinesoar;" If You Give a Pig a Party, aka "Oink;" The Little Mouse, The Red Ripe Strawberry, and The Big Hungry Bear, aka "Mouse," and No David, aka "David." There are a few others in rotation, including Elmo's bedtime book and this mediocre ladybug book, but those first few are read every single night by yours truly. Sometimes I hate the monotony of reading the same thing every night, but other times I love the predictability of it all. Milo always says "oh no!" when we learn that the big hungry bear especially likes strawberries that have just been picked. I love that when we get to the page with the T. rex Milo roars and that Milo always giggles when we see the strawberry wearing those silly glasses with the nose and mustache attached, or when we read the last page of No David Milo always wants a hug. I'm sure next month we'll be on to something new, and then I'll be nostalgic for all our current reading routines and traditions.

Milo can reach doorknobs but he can't turn them. He sits on the potty every night before bath and has actually gone peepee in it twice. Both times surprised him. He loves peas and will eat them before touching anything else on his plate. He loves to jump. He loves wrestling with Daddy. He likes to sit on the couch and snuggle next to me and pull a blanket over his lap. He loves his paci but sometimes we make it through all of story time without it. He loves wearing his hat. Putting non-hats on his head and calling them hats is still funny. He learned how to say "cheese" when someone wants to take his picture. He always tries to eat with his fork or spoon before giving up and using his hands. He's getting tall and lean, but he still has his round baby cheeks and his inverted knuckles. He's okay with holding hands now to cross the street or go up or down stairs or sometimes just to walk around.

He doesn't say the words, but I know he loves me. I know because of the way he says "Mommy!" and smiles when he sees me. I know because of the way he blows me kisses when we say goodbye. I know because of the way he lays his head on my shoulder right before bed. I know because of the way he leans on my shoulder and holds onto my hand while I'm reading to him each night, sometimes rubbing my hand with his thumb. And I love him too. More than he will ever possibly know.

Milo's Second Halloween

So now that Thanksgiving is just a week away, I thought it was time to post some Halloween photos. Some are from Milo's daycare Halloween party/trick-or-treating extravaganza, a few are from our post-dinner attempt to trick-or-treat. But sadly, we forgot to take the camera to the daycare party, so we missed most of the early action. The shots we do have were taken after the group came to our house to trick-or-treat and we were able to grab the camera. By that point, Milo was about done with the whole thing, if he was ever into it, that is. Not sure he really grasped the concept of trick-or-treating, and he didn't like following the other kids around to different places in the backyard for some reason he couldn't figure out. And I'm pretty sure he must have been roasting in his fleecy costume. The sun was out and it was quite warm that afternoon.  All that said, it was pretty fun to see Milo in his adorable little bumblebee costume holding his little pumpkin treat bucket. 

What the heck is going on? And why am I holding this bucket?

At least you're not making me wear the hood.

Are we done yet?

I do like this little green cup. Cups are fun for sure.

Look, flowers! Bees love flowers!

But I don't want to smell the flowers again just so you can try to take a picture this time. You should have taken the picture the first time I smelled the flowers.

Look, Daddy, nunchucks!

What? You're supposed to unwrap it first? Nonsense.

My first (and possibly only) taste of Halloween candy. Mmmmm.

First Glimpse of Sissy

We had a 3D sonogram last Saturday. My takeaway: Sissy's eyes and nose look like Milo, but her mouth belongs only to her. We had trouble getting really clear images because 1) she had her arm blocking her face for much of the session and 2) her face was pressed up against the wall of the uterus, making it difficult for the machine to do its thing. A few of the best pics below, with a couple of Milo for comparison.

All curled up.

 

Look at her big lips!

Looks like she has chubby cheeks already, at only two-ish pounds.

Remember a couple of years ago, when Milo flipped us off in utero? Sissy is following right in her brother's footsteps.

Ahh, yes, here it is: Milo giving us the finger, with a smirk and everything.

My sweet boy.

Look what I did

There's just something about pregnancy that makes me want to change my hairstyle. So I did. It's a good fall/winter look, don't you think?

Milo is 19 months old!

Can you even believe another month has gone by? Milo is nineteen months old and amazing beyond his years.

His vocabulary is, once again, growing by the second. I no longer could even begin to try to recall all the words he knows. Many, many animals and their sounds have been identified. Many machines and their sounds have been identified. He knows words for more abstract concepts, like "mess" and "hot" and not just the words for tangible things. He strings words together, two-words sentences for the time being. He is really and truly communicating with us, and it all at once makes things easier and more complicated.

He has taken an interest in coloring. He prefers pens, though markers or crayons or highlighters will do. He scribbles, switching the pen from right hand to left. He holds it the proper way—not grabby with his entire first, but more like an adult would. Sometimes even daintily, letting his pinky hover in the air. He especially loves it when we guide his hand and draw something. "M-I-L-O," I help him write. "Miyo!" he responds. "D-A-D-D-Y," I help him write. "Miyo!" he responds.

He loves seeing himself in the mirror and proudly identifies himself as Milo.

He likes washing his hands, turning the lights on and off, playing outside, riding his tractor, and jumping on Mommy and Daddy's bed.

He does not like wearing socks without also wearing shoes, putting on his coat, having a sore rashy bottom, or being told "no."

Milo likes dancing and bobbing his head to the beat (or almost to the beat) when he hears music or singing. He smiles when I sing the ABCs to him, but won't sing with me.

He'll say please and thank-you when prompted, but reluctantly. I think he'll only say please when he really really wants something. And typically that something is a grape.

Andrew and I have become slightly less paranoid when it comes to fearing that Milo will choke any second. We no longer cut his grapes in half and we trust him to eat string cheese without assistance. I still have my doubts about dried fruit, but I see that he eats that at daycare sometimes. Not on my watch, though.

Favorite foods haven't changed much in the last month. Eggs, cheese, and grapes top the chart. Fruit in general is a big hit. He's good with a fork, and I hardly ever worry that he's about to stab himself in the eye anymore.

Milo loves trucks, planes, and tractors. He likes robots, or "bobots," as he calls them, and he and Daddy have a weird routine where they take turns giving a kiss to the robot on the flashcard.

He's a good sleeper, goes to bed without a fuss and sleeps from about 7:45pm to about 6:15am. We typically don't hear a peep from him during the night, though lately he's soaked through his diaper and woken up wet and fussy—and I can hardly blame him for a little whining when he's trying to sleep in wet pajamas.

The best thing of all to happen in the last month is that Milo's Daddy-only phase is over. Or sort of over, anyway. Milo now occasionally wants me over other people. And when he reaches for me, because no one but Mommy will do, I love it. There is no better feeling in the world.

Mama called the doctor...

I had an OB check-up this morning. All is well with Sissy. She had the hiccups when I listened to her heartbeat. After the appointment, I scheduled my next nine appointments. In other words, I am now scheduled all the way to my due date. For some reason, this makes it all seem like it's happening very quickly. And I am not ready.

There are a million things on my to-do list and I don't know when I'm going to do any of them. I spend every weekend just trying to see Milo and do fun things with him and Andrew. There is no time to design a nursery or organize the onesies and burp cloths. We're only three and a half months away from actually having a baby and I'm pretty sure I need at least six months to get ready. Not good math.

First Sentences

Milo has begun stringing words together now. So far we've heard three, maaaayyyybe four, sentences. He said "Light off" when Andrew turned the lights off. He has also said "No, Mommy" and "No, Daddy." Somehow I don't think that will be the last time I hear "No, Mommy."

The possible fourth sentence was just this morning, and I don't really believe it happened. Andrew asked him, "Where do your shoes go?" and I swear it sounded like Milo said "On your feet." But he can't put three words together like that yet, can he??

It's so fun to see him start to really communicate with us. Man, I love that guy.

The Belly Expansion Project

Please ignore the pile of toys etc. on the floor behind me.

22 Weeks, 3 Days

Dog Days Are Over

Today was the first day I dropped Milo off at his (relatively) new daycare and the dog didn't growl at me. Six weeks in, and I guess she finally knows who I am. That makes it official—we have settled into our new routine. Even the dog knows it. I call that progress.

Crazy or Dedicated?

Yesterday I started back up with my weekly personal training sessions. I quit going when the "morning" sickness kicked my ass for the entire summer. But, you know, since I hadn't thrown up in a week, I thought it was high time to start exercising again.

When I got there, my (male) trainer said, "Looks like you've got a little belly there." Yes. Yes, I do. It tends to grow with pregnancy.

Working out was way harder than I expected. I'm not sure if it was extra tough because I haven't lifted any weight (other than the constant lifting of my nearly 30-pound toddler) in a few months or because I'm pregnant. Or both, probably. But it was not easy. I couldn't (and didn't want to) lift nearly as much weight as I was before. I got out of breath quickly. My lower back felt strained at times, causing me to pull back even more. My pesky round ligament pain held me back, too.

But I did it.

And even though this morning my lower back and round ligament are aching more than normal, I'll be back next week for more torture exercise.

The Gender Reveal Party

Yesterday we hosted a gender reveal party for our friends and family to share the news of Future Baby's sex. The party was a great success. Gorgeous weather meant our deck (and new patio furniture) were open for business. The food was a hit, the kids loved playing with Milo's toys, and our reveal moment had the perfect amount of suspense. My video hangout with long-distance friends and family even went smoothly. Overall, I'd say a good time was had by all.
To reveal the sex, we went old school with a science-project volcano. Except our volcano came out of a wine bottle. In addition to the baking soda, we added Koolaid mix in order to get the color (mixed ahead of time, of course, so as not to give away the surprise). Everyone gathered around, and I poured in the vinegar. It took a few seconds to react, then—an eruption of pink!
Everyone cheered. It was such an exciting perfect moment. We're having a girl! Amazing. And now that the party's over, it really is sinking in. It's gonna happen—Milo is going to have a baby sister and I'm going to have a daughter. Wow. Can't wait to meet you, Future Baby Girl!

The Post In Which the Gender Is Revealed!

It's a girl!

Another belly pic

Are you sick of these belly pics yet? Don't answer that. Here's me at 20 weeks. (Halfway! Woo!)

The 18-Month Stats

Milo is 18 months old. A year and a half! Just over four months away from becoming a big brother. He’s such a little boy, with only traces of baby remaining.

• Weight: 28 lbs., 9 oz. (80th percentile)
• Height: 32 1/4 in. (50th percentile)
• Head Circumference: 19 1/4 in. (80th percentile)

Favorite words include outside, yellow, no, and up (as in, “Pick me up now, woman!”). He knows many, many more words: paci, hat, button, doggie, Zadie, spoon, fork, potty, bump, TV, truck, neck, book, robot, grape, peas, oh no, what’s this?, “Dog Go,” “La La La” (can you guess what two books are making the rounds in our house?), milk, etc. etc. etc.
Favorite books: Go, Dog, Go; Moo, Baa, La La La; Hand, Hand, Fingers, Thumb; Five Little Monkeys Jumping on the Bed; and occasionally Goodnight Moon.

Favorite things to play with: Milo is into toy cars, balls, two splatter screens from the kitchen drawer, flash cards, and our cat.

Milo made up a new game the other day that Andrew and I think is hilarious. He put a pea on top of his head and said “hat.” Of course we laughed, and he kept putting more peas on his head, saying “hat, hat.” This led to other hats, including yogurt and peanut butter toast. Messy, but adorable.

The boy cannot get enough of being outside. Immediately after dinner (or before, or during) he starts whining "ow-side, ow-side!" and goes to the back door and just waits there.

He's quick to throw a mini-tantrum, like if he wants to go outside but does NOT want to put his shoes on, he'll cry and carry on for awhile until distracted by something else.

He refuses to let me kiss him. Sometimes he smiles and turns away, and it's kind of cute. Other times he screams at me, "Mahmee, Mahmee, no, nooooo!" and pushes away with all his might. Sad.

Milo generally likes food, especially breakfast foods, but he sometimes just refuses to even try something. Often if we can convince/trick him into taking a bite, he'll eat with gusto. But if our usual tricks aren't working, forget it. Grapes for dinner it is.

Milo can walk backward, run (sort of), bounce and almost-sort-of jump, spin in a circle, and go up and down stairs fairly easily (crawling or scooting).

Milo has taken a liking to stuffed animals, though they're not really loveys. He just likes to cuddle with them during story time and in his crib.

Every animal says "moo" and everything is the color yellow, according to Milo.

He can reach too many things all of a sudden. Drawers that he never paid attention to before are now opened and their (hopefully safe) contents strewn about. Things on the edge of the table or counter are pulled down. He OPENED THE OVEN DOOR, which seems particularly dangerous to me. I have no clue how to completely baby-proof the house. This kid is just too crafty!

Things at the new daycare are going great. Today was Milo's check-up, and Kristin (Milo's caretaker/teacher) had him up and ready to go and a snack all packed to take along to the doctor's. At the old daycare, we would have been lucky if Milo was in the room we expected to find him in, forget being in a clean diaper, awake, or with snack in hand.

Life is good right now. Milo generally sleeps well, he is currently without rash (though to keep him that way, he has to be in disposable diapers with loads of desitin, so goodbye cloth diaper dreams), he's smart and funny and adorable, and we're all getting ready to become a family of four.

All Is Well

The ultrasound went very smoothly. Our baby is looking good. Arms, legs, fingers, major organs all present and accounted for. You'll have to wait until after our gender reveal party to hear whether this kiddo is a boy or a girl, though. Check back Saturday night for the big (blog) reveal!

Relief

I was looking through some old blog post drafts that never got published for some reason or another and came across this. Written only a couple months ago and with our sonogram taking place in just a few hours, it seems particularly apropos to post it now.

Today (July 18) was my second OB appointment. The one where we were supposed to get to hear the heartbeat. As it turned out, I never did hear the heartbeat. But I got something much better.

My doctor told us that at this stage in pregnancy, she can only find the heartbeat about half the time with the doppler. I was pretty certain we'd have no trouble hearing it, since I'm 11 weeks, and I was only 10 weeks when we heard Milo's heartbeat for the first time. But I was still a little nervous going in to the appointment, because this was sort of the make it or break it point, at least in my mind. So when my doctor couldn't find it, I of course was a little worried. But she was very reassuring, and even said she wasn't going to try that hard to find it; we'd just go and get an ultrasound instead.

I'll admit, I loved the idea of getting an early ultrasound. Especially if my doctor was confident that things were fine. So Andrew and I headed out to the waiting room, and even though we were being squeezed in between other appointments, we got called back in about two minutes to go get our ultrasound. That was perfect, because I didn't have time to get myself good and worked up and panicky.

On the table, gel on the belly, lights dimmed, and voila. Our baby on the screen. Waving at us, heart beating like mad. Awesome. Cutest 1.5-inch long baby I've ever seen.

Dear Future Baby

Dear Future Baby,

(Sorry about the weirdo nickname. That is the unfortunate plight of the second child—you can't just be "baby," for how would anyone know whether I was talking about you or about your big brother? Some people say he's hardly a baby anymore, but you'll never convince me of this.)

It is only a few short days until we find out more about you. We'll find out about how big you are, how fast your heart is beating, whether you are as healthy as can be, and perhaps the most widely anticipated news of all, whether you are a boy or a girl. It's strange, this feeling of just a short time left of wonder and mystery and dreaming. As of now, I can imagine you as a little girl, dressed in an adorable little sundress and matching shoes. And I can just as easily imagine you as my sweet little boy, wearing the silly sports-themed clothing that all boys seemed destined for. Both are wonderful and amazing possibilities. But in just a few days, only one of them will continue to be a possibility.

In a way, that makes me a little sad. Believe me, I cannot WAIT to find out more about you. Knowing who you are and imagining our life as a family of four will be amazing, and it will help me prepare to meet you. But also, my baby girl or baby boy will be gone, if that makes any sense at all. I wonder if I am the only one feeling this way. I know there is no real loss here, only gain. But since you are probably-very-likely-pretty-definitely our last baby, I am about to find out whether I will never have a baby girl to smooch on or whether I will never again have a tiny baby boy to cuddle.

Enough of that sad part though. It is YOU I want to meet! Will you look like Milo? Will you look like Daddy, with dark hair and hazel eyes? Or will it take months and months before we can even tell what color your hair actually is? Or maybe you'll come out with a full head of hair and put Milo's current amount of hair to shame. Will you remind Daddy and me every day of Milo, or will you wow us with how totally unlike him you are, even though you have practically the same DNA? I'm sorry for the inevitable comparisons to your brother. I promise you, there will be no comparing the way I feel about you, because how can you measure a love that is bigger than anything I ever dreamed my heart could feel?

You've been rolling and kicking and punching me for a week or so now. I'm sure that as the weeks go on, I'll start to notice a pattern to your movements—when you sleep and when you are awake, which foods I eat make you want to dance, how well you tolerate a little caffeine. Maybe by that time Daddy and I will have chosen a name for you so I can say, "Future Baby, please quit kicking me! I'm trying to sleep!" And then I'll remind myself that being kicked from inside is probably better than being smacked in the face by a toddler, because at least this way I don't have to figure out how to discipline you.

But I digress. Point is, we still have lots of time to get to know each other before we ever look one another in the eye. I'm truly so excited to meet you. You are already such a wonderful part of our family.

See you next week.
Love,
Mommy

What should we do tonight?

Every night after dinner, Andrew and I have about an hour with Milo before it's time for his bath. And every night, we wonder what to do to make the most of that hour. Last night, we played Yahtzee. We didn't keep score so I can't say for sure, but I think Milo won.

Yahtzee! from Megan Langford on Vimeo.

18 and a half weeks

Here's the belly, albeit not at a great viewing angle. But look at that big kid! He used to be in that same belly. Crazy.

I think I have a new hobby

Check this out.

Yeah. I totally made that.

It used to be just a couple pieces of fabric and a spool of thread.

I took a beginner sewing class. Three classes, actually. And I really enjoyed it. I've been wanting to learn how to sew so I could make some home decor basics, like window treatments, pillows, maybe a table runner or napkins or something. So the class was like a test: do I like this enough to go out and get myself a sewing machine? Am I competent enough to complete a simple sewing project?

Turns out the answer to both questions is yes.

My least favorite part of pregnancy

I'm 17 weeks pregnant. I think I have more belly at this point than I did last time (thank you, abdominals, for never returning post-first pregnancy). I've already gained something like fifteen pounds. And I just hate everything about it.

I wouldn't say I have a very positive body image when not pregnant, but I do occasionally think I look pretty good. But when pregnant, my self-esteem plummets and I basically feel bad about myself the entire time. Longer than the entire time, as I hated my post-baby body for a good six or eight months. Logically I know it's ridiculous to feel fat when pregnant. To look at my belly and genuinely wish it was flatter and less noticeable. To find myself sucking in during the day. And I see already how my hips and thighs and ass seem to be spreading out, and since this is my second time with this, I have the distinct displeasure of knowing what's to come.

With Milo, I gained about 60 pounds during pregnancy. The recommended weight gain is 25-35 pounds. I flew past that in my second trimester, probably. And it took me months and months to lose it. Not fun. I dread gaining that weight again, though of course I hope to not gain quite so much this time. I dread having to lose all that weight again. I hate the feeling that my clothes don't really fit me and that I'm not looking my best.

Add to that occasional nausea (yes, still), extremely dark circles under my eyes, flaky-yet-greasy skin, and generally being completely over-emotional at everything, and I'm a mess. At least I'm not far enough along that strangers on commenting on how huge I am yet. Can't wait for that fun to begin.

Moving Day!

My department at work is moving to a new area of the building. Sad for me. Goodbye, natural light. I'll miss you!

All my stuff, boxed and ready to move.

My nearly empty cube, just waiting to shut down for the day and await the mysterious overnight installation crew to move it all down the hall.