Just over the last week, you have been insatiably hungry. Baby boy, you are eating more than a one year old – 8 ounces in your bottle, every 2.5 hours. You spit lots of it up, but you can’t be soothed until you’ve gorged yourself. This cow has had to up production, and between that and my starting up at the gym again, I can’t eat enough either. Dad is living with a couple of grumbly tummies at the moment.
So, in the interest of allowing me to spend SOME parts of my day not hooked up to a milking machine or a baby, you started solid foods day before yesterday. We put a half tsp in your bottle right before bed, and when it hit your lips you gave a smile, and point-oh-two seconds after finishing up you spit it all up all over the place. But it was a start. The next day, we mixed half a TBSP in a bowl and dad spooned it into your mouth. It was a bit watery, which made it a little harder, but we got some of it in there. You made some faces, and tried really hard to figure out how to suckle the spoon, which confounded you, but it was largely a success. Of course I grinned foolishly and filmed the whole thing, because I am an idiot for you.
That helped with the sleeping last night, though you wanted to stay up late. You complained loudly from the crib while I tried to sleep and ignore you, and finally after more than an hour of insistent screaming, I put you in the bed with me. Instant smiles. You shoved the sheet into your mouth – it’s really cute, lately, how you put everything that falls into those hands in your mouth, though it will get more difficult once you can actually reach for things. Then you’d stare at me, mouth full of sheet, still talking away, while I tried to ignore you and doze. I’d open my eyes every few minutes, and you’d be right there, staring, and then you’d smile and coo to see me. And I’d smile back. And then close my eyes. And repeat.
One thing I like to do right now is Moo at you. This started as a joke, an obvious joke, but anyway it made you giggle like crazy, so now I do it all the time. And then you coo back. And we sing-song at each other for hours, and I am just so amazed at you, little boy, at the sounds you make and the experimenting you are doing with your voice, and eyes, and hands. You are growing and learning every second of every day, and whenever I take the minute to slow down and pay attention to you doing that, I never regret it.
Nursing has morphed lately as well. You still can’t get enough, but now when I get you latched on, you’ll furrow your brow and eat eat eat, and then you have a thought. I can see you have this thought as clear as day – I wonder if she’s still right there? And then you pop off and turn your head to check for my face, and there I am, and you smile and giggle, like – hey, cool! She didn’t leave! And then you’ll turn your head back to the work at hand, all business, and then like 3 seconds later you have that thought again – so, still there now? And you turn and smile and then go back and then turn and, well, it drives me a tiny bit crazy because you’re on and off and on and off and it really makes nursing take a freaking year. But it’s so cute that you’re checking on me, and that you smile at the sight of me, so I can’t stay annoyed.
You are a true delight, son of mine. When we took you to your first baseball game on Wed night (Durham Bulls vs. the Norfolk Tides, we lost 7-6), you were so good. You’re just a happy kid, always smiling, and everybody loves you. But nobody more than me and Dad. We’re yours, for always, and even though someday I may feed you Tabasco sauce just to get good film, know that I’ll always be your champion.