I give you two videos

I know I have been slacking on the picture front lately. To make up for it, I give you two adorable videos. They're new, too—taken just this week.

Baby Giggles from Megan Langford on Vimeo.

Deep Thoughts from Megan Langford on Vimeo.

Four-Month Stats

Milo had his four-month check-up this afternoon. Here's the scoop:

• Weight: 13 lbs., 14 oz. (30th percentile)
• Length: 25 in. (60th percentile)
• Head Circumference: 17 in. (75th percentile)

At four months, Milo loves to hold on to his feet. He tries to put them in his mouth, but is usually distracted by his hands, which always go in the mouth before the feet have a chance.

At four months, Milo loves to "fly." Extreme bouncing, swinging motions, big rocking movements while on Mommy or Daddy's lap—all these things are surefire ways to get Milo giggling.

At four months, Milo has the cutest giggle.

At four months, Milo is generally very easy to please, only fussing when hungry or tired.

At four months, Milo loves his pacifier and is quickly soothed with it.

At four months, Milo babbles a lot. Lots of consonant sounds and new vowel sounds too. We hear ooh, la, ugh, mmm, goo, rrrr, pbbbff (does that count?) and more.

At four months, Milo thinks it is silly when I shake my head and my hair swishes around. He also thinks I look silly dancing. I would have to concur.

At four months, Milo sleeps well, only waking once a night to eat.

At four months, Milo does not nap particularly well, unless he is being held. While this isn't a routine I want to cement, I have to admit I love our cuddle time.

At four months, Milo is not a fan of the hot hot heat. I keep telling him it's not the heat, it's the humidity, but he doesn't believe me.

At four months, Milo is such a little flirt, smiling at everyone he meets.

At four months, Milo has learned to snuggle into my neck for comfort. I love it.

At four months, Milo's toenails finally need clipping. At least on the big toes—the other toenails still haven't really grown at all since birth. I suppose I will have to trim them, which is going to be quite a feat what with all the kicking.

At four months, Milo's fingernails, on the other hand (get it? the other HAND?), are growing like crazy and really ought to be trimmed every other day or so. I am trying to keep them short enough that he can't scratch himself too badly, but I'm afraid of cutting his skin. Plus, that whole "trim baby's nails while he is sleeping" thing? DOES NOT WORK ON THIS BABY.

At four months, Milo likes to watch his crib mobile go round and round.

At four months, Milo has discovered TOYS!!!1! He grabs them, checks then out, puts them in his mouth. Good times.

At four months, Milo adores his daddy and loves playtime with him.

At four months, Milo is beginning to appreciate storytime. He looks at the pictures and will sit calmly while we read (most of the time).

At four months, Milo enjoys baths. He especially likes having the warm water poured over his chest and belly.

At four months, Milo is still exclusively breastfed. Unfortunately, I still have to use the nipple shield. When Milo is faced with boob sans shield, he's all, "WTF? What am I supposed to do with this thing?" whereas with shield, he's all, "NOM NOM NOMMMMMIIIILLLLLLLK!!!"

At four months, Milo drools a lot and will suck on anything that comes near his mouth.

At four months, Milo has begun to roll over! He typically only showcases this skill early in the morning. I still haven't captured it on video. He rolls from tummy to back, and just a couple days ago he rolled from back to tummy. Our pediatrician says it's time to start babyproofing the house. Um, what? Wasn't he just born, like, a couple of weeks ago?

At four months, Milo is apparently starting to teethe. The doc says she can see the ridges or something in his gums that come before the teeth. Again, what's with the teeth? He was JUST BORN.

At four months, I am clearly in denial about how big my baby is getting.

At four months, I think I am becoming a very good mommy, and I have to say that I am pretty darn proud of myself.

Our Trip to D.C., Part Two

I was pleasantly surprised by what a good traveler Milo was. Everything about the trip disrupted his normal routine. Naptime was almost nonexistent, there was no blanket on the floor to play on and no toys all around, meals were not in the big brown chair and diaper changes were not on the cushy soft pad. Daddy was not there to sing and read bedtime stories. And there were constantly new faces to meet, new places to see, and new sounds to hear. But Milo just went with the flow and was relaxed almost the entire time.

On Saturday, Emily and I had lots of things to pick up for the shower. Our plan was to run all over town in the morning/early afternoon (babies in tow, of course) then head back to the hotel in the afternoon to set things up, feed babies, and take naps. I had brought a little umbrella stroller for Milo to ride in because he seems to prefer the stroller over the Bjorn (which I had also brought) or the Moby (which I had not brought). But of course it was sprinkling when we left. The stroller had a sun shade on it, so I thought that would keep Milo pretty dry, and I would either tough it out or buy an umbrella someplace.

We walked no more than two blocks when it began raining much harder. Milo's legs were completely wet, and the sun shade was clearly not going to cut it. The umbrella seemed like a must at this point. But did Milo cry or get upset with his newly wet feet? No. Not at all. He was just hanging out, checking out the sights. Even though he didn't seem to mind the rain, I didn't so much feel like being a negligent mother, so I bought a cheapo umbrella and headed back to the hotel to switch Milo to the Bjorn. At least in that, he would stay dry.

I worried that he would fuss after a short time in the Bjorn. At home, he seems pretty ambivalent about it for awhile, then is all, "Let me out of this thing, woman." But again, pleasantly surprised. Milo ended up riding around in that thing for the next three hours, and had to go in and out of it three or four times for diaper changes and meals (his and mine). And he was a trooper the whole time.

I was not nearly as laid back as Milo. First of all, it was raining. I was carrying a heavy diaper bag, an umbrella, and a 13-plus-pound baby. We had several things to purchase (including snacks and eight bottles of wine) and by the time we headed back to the hotel, Emily and I each had heavy shopping bags to carry as well. Emily really had the brunt of the load—she had six wine bottles to my two and snacks. We had a long walk, a metro ride (with a transfer) and an uphill climb to get back to the hotel. My back hurt and I was sweaty and I definitely felt like whining about it. Milo really set the bar high, though. I think the only part of the day that he was sort of upset about was the metro ride. He cried, and I got the feeling he didn't like the noise and the motion. (He apparently is not much of an urban baby.) Milo even managed to fall asleep while in the Bjorn. His head just started leaning to one side, and I eventually guided it to lean back against my chest. I think he slept like that for about 30 minutes, which was his only real nap of the day.

Once we got back to the hotel, the hard part of the trip was over. Molly's party that evening was a huge success. I think everyone had a great time. Food was delicious, drinks were plentiful, and guests played along with the silly shower games. Milo and Eli enjoyed their first bridal shower, but were a bit sad that we did not let them attend the bachelorette party. Babysitters took good care of them, and even texted us photos of sleeping babies so we could relax and enjoy our evening out. (And enjoy it we did. Good thing we had the frozen milk for the babies to drink.)

On Sunday, Molly picked me and Milo up and we spent the afternoon hanging out at her and Rich's house. We took a nap, chatted, and ate Chinese food. It was the perfect way to spend the day.

Thankfully, the flight home was uneventful. Milo slept the entire time, and somehow I managed to snag one of the two single seats (the nice wide ones with no one next to it, both window and aisle seat). I was expecting my mother-in-law, but Andrew even surprised us and picked us up from the airport. All in all, it was a fun trip—but I don't relish the thought of traveling solo with an infant again for a very long time. Even if that infant is an excellent traveler.

Milo, Meet Eli

I stole this from Emily. It is awfully damn cute. Milo and I shared a hotel room with Emily and Eli during our trip to D.C., and it was so fun to see the boys interacting with each other. I hope that when they are older they become great friends.

Milo's First Flight

It was the best of times. It was the worst of times. This weekend I flew to Washington, D.C. for my dear friend Molly's bridal shower and bachelorette party. But I did not go by myself. My travel companion was a chubby-cheeked, thunder-thighed, blue-eyed, 13-pound bundle of joy. Because I am breastfeeding, Milo goes where I go. So we went to D.C. together. And—spoiler alert—we made it.

I was a nervous wreck beforehand. I had no idea what it would be like to travel with an infant. I read about traveling with a baby. I asked friends for advice. I called the airline. I overpacked. But I had no idea what to expect. And on Friday morning, I was so nervous I just kept crying. (I am a crier. Have I mentioned this before? It is how I react to about 75 percent of situations.) I was so worried that Milo would be miserable, or that he would get sick, or poop all over me. Not just on the plane. I was least worried about the flight itself. I was worried about getting both of us, plus stroller, diaper bag, cooler bag of frozen milk, and my giant camping backpack from the airport to the metro and then on to the hotel. I was worried about being on my own with Milo for three days. I'd be the only one for every diaper change, for every feeding, for every need he had. And that thought overwhelmed me.

I made it through airport security with no trouble. Shoes off, liquids bag in the tub. Milo out of stroller, fold up stroller, send diaper bag and stroller through X-ray. Declare 36 ounces of frozen breastmilk, send through X-ray. Walk through with baby in arms. Milo back in stroller, gather bags, put on shoes. As I waited in the boarding area, a woman approached me. She asked if I was traveling alone with the baby. She said she had a three-year-old and knew how tough traveling could be, and she offered to sit by me on the plane and help in any way she could. I began crying again. Embarrassed to be such a mess in front of this stranger, but so incredibly thankful for her offer, I said that would be great, and she and I began to talk. Her name was Amber, and she made all the difference in the world to me on my first flight with a baby.

Amber and I did manage to sit together—my original seatmate, a businessman, was happy to switch seats. I nursed Milo during take-off so his ears wouldn't hurt, and I was glad to have this woman (who breastfed her child for two years) sitting next to me. All seemed to be going really well, and my nerves were dissipating. Even though Milo was not sleeping as I had hoped he would be, he was fairly content and easy to entertain. Looked like it would be a good trip.

But then.

We hit some turbulence. Like, a lot of turbulence. The plane bounced around. Milo smiled at the sudden movements. I wanted air and tried not to think about feeling sick. The turbulence was so bad, a passenger fell to the floor as he walked back to his seat. I had a cup of water sitting on Amber's tray table, and not wanting it to spill or splash on her, I picked it up to finish it off. Before I could get a chance to take a drink, though, the plane dropped suddenly. Several people shrieked. My water flew up onto the ceiling, dripping down onto my head and soaking Milo's pjs. Everyone on board flew up as high as their seat belts would let them. Milo was not wearing a seat belt. And I was only supporting him with one arm. He was ripped out of my grasp, flying above my eye level. It happened so fast, seeing Milo in the air like that felt like it was happening in slow motion.

Thankfully, he came down safe and sound in the crook of my arm. But he was upset. And I was upset. I cried again, hugging that little boy so close. I couldn't stop thinking of the what-ifs. What if he had hit his head on the ceiling? What if I had been holding him less tightly and he banged his head on the wall? What if my seat belt had been looser and I hit my head and was unable to care for Milo? It was awful. No parenting moment so far has had me more shaken than this.

I've never experience turbulence like that before. One of the flight attendants was injured and upon landing had to be taken off the plane by medical personnel. As the passengers filed off the plane, you could see the stains of spilled coffee and soda all over their clothes and bags. Amber threw up, and I doubt she was the only one. But we made it. I'm not sure what I would have done without Amber there to distract me, help me, and encourage me. Even after we landed, she went with me to the baggage claim and carried the cooler bag for me. She watched Milo while I used the restroom. When her sister arrived to pick her up, they both walked me all the way to the metro entrance. Super nice. Amber, if you read this, thank you. You were a lifesaver for me and I will never forget your kindness.

Stories of the rest of the trip will have to wait. I'm still exhausted from the whirlwind trip, and it's time for me to go to bed.

Roll With It

Milo rolled over for the first time this morning! Unfortunately, no one saw it happen. I was still asleep while Andrew got ready for work and watched Milo. Andrew laid Milo down for some tummy time while he got himself some breakfast. Milo suddenly began to cry, and when Andrew checked on him, he was on his back. Apparently rolling over when one is not expecting to can be quite startling and upsetting.

It's so exciting, seeing Milo learn something new. And he learns something new pretty much every day. He is getting very familiar with his hands, and he's begun to reach for his feet. He makes consonant sounds. I heard "ffff" for the first time today. But all these changes are coming so fast. Where did my tiny baby go? This baby is so big! I love every new stage, but I get a little teary when I think about how quickly it's all going by.

Tough Decision

I hate making really tough decisions. I always go back and forth, weighing the pros and cons until my head is about to explode. Andrew and I are in the middle of making a tough decision right now, but I feel like it's mostly me making the decision since Andrew already knows what he'd do if I weren't here. But I think I finally know what has to be done.

Here's the deal. We have this baby, whom we love more than anything. It is our job to protect him and care for him above all else. We also have this cat, who can be...vicious. And we have to decide whether or not to keep the cat. This cat has never been aggressive toward Milo. She ignores him for the most part. But when he's crawling around, reaching out and grabbing her tail, will she remain so passive?

I took Gary (the cat) to the vet yesterday, and she was absolutely terrifying. The vet said she was the most aggressive cat he's ever seen, almost to the point that he'd describe her as feral. She hissed and swiped and bit. It took fifteen minutes for the vet to wrangle her enough for the vet tech to give her her shots. Andrew had told me Gary was bad at the vet, but this was the first time I'd witnessed it. I was honestly afraid of her, and I was so thankful that my MIL was watching Milo. For the first time, I felt that Gary was a real and true threat to my family.

But the thing is, 90 percent of the time she is sweet and cuddly. She purrs so much, drool just drips out of her mouth. She's like a puppy; she waits by the door when we get home. She loves to sit on our laps and snuggle next to us at night.

The other 10 percent of the time, however, is a completely different story. She swipes at us when startled or when she doesn't want to do what we want her to do. She hisses at our guests. She pees wherever she feels like it, often right in front of us, as if to say, hey, eff you guys, I'll do what I want and you can't stop me. She scratches on the furniture when she wants food or attention. She shreds the carpet when a door is closed to a room she wants to be in. This morning Andrew reached down to pick her up and she swiped at him, leaving a bleeding scratch on his lip.

Honestly, do I even have a choice? Something has to change. Do we make her an outdoor cat, hoping she'll work out her aggression and energy outside, but risking that she'll become even wilder when she's home? Do we try to find another home for her, somewhere where she can be outdoors with lots of land to run around on? Or do we go with Andrew's preferred choice and have her put to sleep? But I couldn't do that. We've had her for five years, and despite her many, many faults, I love her and feel responsible for her. She's my first pet, and the first pet Andrew and I got together.

But there's Milo. And I have to do what is best for him. And if there is even a chance that Gary would hurt him, then she has to go. I can't wait until it happens, then feel regret that I didn't take action sooner. We're planning to ask Andrew's aunt and uncle, who live out in rural Missouri, if they will take her. Take her back, actually, since it was they who found her in their barn when Gary was just a day or so old. (Robin, if you read this, whaddya say?)

In my heart I know Gary has to go. But I swear, I'm gonna miss that goddamn cat.

Just look in those kitten eyes. You can see the future staring right back at you.

Eventually Gary would conquer this sofa and shred it all to hell.
Look at that tongue!
Gary reeeaaally hated wearing that jack-o-lantern hat. For the life of me, I can't imagine why.

Maybe in the end, this decision isn't so difficult after all.

Okay, back to posting about my baby.

Milo giggles now. It is so stinking cute. He's been smiling for awhile, and occasionally smiling and working himself up into this wheezing, grunting sort of smile noise. But just yesterday it actually sounded like a giggle.

Of course I ran for the video camera. But when I turned it on, he was pretty straight-faced. Either I quit being funny or he doesn't like to perform for the camera. One of these days I'll catch that giggle. Until then I'll be over here, making an ass out of myself trying to get my baby to laugh.

Hey look! A post that isn't about my preshus baybee!

WARNING: This post has absolutely nothing to do with Milo! In fact, I probably won't even mention him! Or at least not after the title! Or this!

A couple of friends (one of them being this girl, and you know she'll have good stuff) and I are having a garage sale this weekend. I've been gathering stuff to sell for weeks, and finally last night started collecting it all from its various cat-free zones around the house and putting it in the garage. It was a dirty, dusty chore.

As I carried some things through the kitchen, I felt something on my chest. Something like a bug. I looked down, but could see no bug. But OMG, you guys, I was wearing a tank top, the kind with the built-in bra, and with these glorious breastfeeding boobs, the depths of my cleavage know no bounds. I felt something again. Positive that a bug had fallen into my shirt, I started hoping that it was at least something small, like a silverfish (we have tons of those lately).

I started digging around in my tank top, and what do you know, A GIANT GROSS SPIDER SCUTTLES OUT OF MY CLEAVAGE AND ON TO MY SHOULDER. I literally shrieked and jumped around, frantically brushing my arm, trying to remove the spider without smearing it on my skin. I yelled for Andrew. By the time he came in the spider was on my belly (on the shirt, THANK GOD) and he brushed it first to my leg, then to the floor, where it began to hurry away. Andrew lifted his foot as if to step on it and squash it, but he was not wearing shoes and hesitated, foot in midair. Unfortunately, I was wearing shoes. With only a moment's hesitation, I stomped on that eight-legged terror. And let me tell you, that was the grossest squished bug I've ever seen.

So I knew I wasn't a fan of spiders and all, but I had no idea that if one were to be on me that I would freak out so much. The shrieking, the hopping, the shaking, the feeling that it is STILL THERE EVEN NOW, HOURS LATER. *shudder*

But hey! You should totally come to our garage sale! I'm a sucker and a people-pleaser, so I will probably give you a good deal.

Three Months!

At three months, Milo is cuter than ever. And that is quite an accomplishment, because exuding this much Adorable (he's only one baby, after all) takes some effort.

At three months, Milo smiles when I pick him up from his crib in the morning.

At three months, Milo is a great nighttime sleeper. He goes to bed between 7:30 and 8:15, and then doesn't wake up until sometime between 3:00 and 4:30. He has slept all the way through the night twice, not waking until it's actually a decent time to get out of bed.

At three months, Milo eats somewhere around five and a half or six ounces each feeding. He typically eats six times a day. I have no idea if this is average or not. He is gaining weight and all that, so we must be in the right ballpark at least.

At three months, Milo talks a lot. He mostly says "Ah ah ah ah ah ah" and something that is sort of like "Uhhhgggbb," but there are lots of other sounds too. I spend a lot of time pointing to myself and saying "Mama" but so far it's not doing any good. All in good time, all in good time.

At three months, Milo obsessively sucks on his hands. It's hard to take good pictures of him without another adult there to entertain him because he always has his hands in his mouth.

At three months, Milo drools a lot. Not all the time, but when he feels like sucking on something (namely his hands, occasionally my fingers or Andrew's arm) the drool just won't stop. It dangles from his mouth in long, sticky strings. If he keeps this up, he'll be worse than Gary.

At three months, Milo kicks his legs when he gets excited.

At three months, Milo loves looking in the mirror. I like to play the Near-Far game, where I hold him close to the mirror and say "Neeeeeeearrr," then move back from the mirror and say "Faaaaarrr." I stole this from Sesame Street.

At three months, Milo almost giggles. When he is excited and smiling, he makes breathy noises that can almost be mistaken for giggles. It's super cute.

At three months, Milo is getting more hair. It sort of looks curly when it's wet, but there's so little of it that it's difficult to tell. And I still can't say for sure what color it will be in the end. Right now I'm going with reddish brown.

At three months, Milo prefers to nap in someone's arms. He sleeps for a lot longer when he's being held. If he naps elsewhere, we're lucky if he sleeps for twenty minutes.

At three months, Milo can grip things pretty well. He sometimes brings objects to his mouth, and sometimes he switches an object to the other hand. This might be accidental, because I still haven't seen him really reach out for an object.

At three months, Milo has not yet rolled over, though he has rotated a full 180 degrees while on his belly.

At three months, I'm really getting the hang of this. Rarely do I feel like I have no idea what to do with him. I think it helps that he is becoming more interested in the world around him.

At three months, I have at least one pair of pre-pregnancy pants that fit. I am too scared to try on any others. I still have a lot of weight to lose. I don't think I've lost a single pound in the last six weeks.

At three months, I love this little boy so much. I am wrapped around his tiny little finger. I let him drool on me and give me slobbery kisses. If that isn't love, I don't know what is.Half a second later that hand was in his mouth. I can't say I blame him, though. I can't resist chomping on that baby either. Nom nom nom.