I made this video last week, and he's only gotten better since then. He's recently started to try to pull himself up, and if you hold his hands, he will take a step or two. I think I may have an early walker on my hands!
Sunday, July 29, 2012
Thursday, July 19, 2012
proof, part 1: he sits!
In my last post, I claimed that 6 month-old Kieran is sitting and crawling. I realized that I should post some irrefutable proof of this so I don't get blasted for lying... or maybe just because it's cute. Either way, here he is:
Friday, July 13, 2012
6 months! (Also, teeth.)
Kieran is 6 months old!
And, boy, is he delightful! He smiles and laughs almost constantly, sleeps like a Calvinist, and eats everything I give him. He can play by himself on the floor for 10 or 15 minutes, but he also loves playing with us. Peek-a-boo is a favorite game now. He's sitting. And crawling. He loves being mobile and is so curious about everything. He's pretty much given up his third nap, except on particularly busy days. He's a little snugglebug and will eat up affection with a spoon.
He has two teeth, on the bottom, right in the middle. He had a bit of trouble when they first came in, but a little extra love and a bit of ibuprofen got him through the worst of it, and now he's back to his happy self. You can just barely see them in this picture, but it's the best one I've got.
I took both boys to the library today, and felt, for the first time, like I was traveling with two kids, instead of one kid and one baby. Oy, they grow up so fast.
Thursday, June 21, 2012
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Monday, June 11, 2012
jury duty update
Desk attendant (male): Do you have your summons?
Me: Yes. I also have a baby.
Desk attendant (male): Um... you can't bring a baby in here.
Me: Well, I got a summons, and, despite a doctor's note saying that he is exclusively breastfed and won't take a bottle, I was told to come in anyway. So here we are.
Desk attendant (male): Uh... hold on one second. (Looks across at his [female] co-worker. They mumble to each other for a few seconds.)
Desk attendant (female): Have a seat in that room over there.
Me: (Gathers things and sits in small, empty room next to reception desk.)
Desk attendant (female): Ms. Peterson?
Me: Yes?
Desk attendant (female): I can give you until October. Will that work?
Me: Well, he won't be a year old until January, but by October, he should at least be eating... other things. So, yes. October.
Desk attendant (female): You'll get your new paperwork in the mail.
Me: Do I need to pay for my parking, or will you validate it anyway?
Desk attendant (female): I'm really not supposed to, but I will, since you shouldn't have been forced to come here anyway. I don't know what my supervisor was thinking.
Me: (beaming) Yeah, me neither. Thank you very much.
And then I left. And that was the end of that. A giant waste of everyone's time (and a little money as well) that nevertheless ended with some respect for a woman's right to raise her children. Nameless female desk attendant, you have restored what little faith I had in local government.
And, I'm sort of sorry that I threw my banana peel on the floor of your parking garage. Sort of.
Me: Yes. I also have a baby.
Desk attendant (male): Um... you can't bring a baby in here.
Me: Well, I got a summons, and, despite a doctor's note saying that he is exclusively breastfed and won't take a bottle, I was told to come in anyway. So here we are.
Desk attendant (male): Uh... hold on one second. (Looks across at his [female] co-worker. They mumble to each other for a few seconds.)
Desk attendant (female): Have a seat in that room over there.
Me: (Gathers things and sits in small, empty room next to reception desk.)
Desk attendant (female): Ms. Peterson?
Me: Yes?
Desk attendant (female): I can give you until October. Will that work?
Me: Well, he won't be a year old until January, but by October, he should at least be eating... other things. So, yes. October.
Desk attendant (female): You'll get your new paperwork in the mail.
Me: Do I need to pay for my parking, or will you validate it anyway?
Desk attendant (female): I'm really not supposed to, but I will, since you shouldn't have been forced to come here anyway. I don't know what my supervisor was thinking.
Me: (beaming) Yeah, me neither. Thank you very much.
And then I left. And that was the end of that. A giant waste of everyone's time (and a little money as well) that nevertheless ended with some respect for a woman's right to raise her children. Nameless female desk attendant, you have restored what little faith I had in local government.
And, I'm sort of sorry that I threw my banana peel on the floor of your parking garage. Sort of.
Sunday, June 10, 2012
saying goodbye
Sometimes, you see things coming a mile away. Little by little, you arrive at a place where you have to make a gut-wrenching decision. It's necessary, yet heartbreaking at the same time.
We gave away our cats.
Our relationship with them has been going downhill from the first moment they peed in the house. We accepted responsibility: their litter box had gotten dirty while we were on vacation. But then, we had a baby, and they became a little more destructive. I never knew what would be broken, chewed, or knocked over when I came downstairs in the morning. If they didn't get the attention they wanted, they started yowling at Lyndon's bedroom door while he was asleep. So we started locking them in the garage at night. One peed-on golf club bag later, we bought them a large cage instead. That worked for a while . . . until we had another baby.
The day I had to throw out my Graco stroller was the beginning of the end. They were basically using it as an alternative litter box. Then, I walked in the front door, back from a walk, still POd at them about the stroller, and found a pee spot up the side of my couch.
We listed them that same week (this past Friday, actually): "Free to good home." Within 48 hours, they were gone.
A nice pair of college girls came over Saturday morning, met the cats, loved them, and left to run a few errands, with a promise to come back for them in the afternoon. I spent all Saturday morning celebrating . . . and all Saturday afternoon grieving. Right before they left, I wanted to give Ferrarri one last scratch behind the ears, just to say goodbye, but he was already in his carrier, so I could only fit the tips of my fingers through the bars. He started rubbing his face against my fingers. Through the bars of the carrier. In that moment, I didn't think I could go through with it. I saw the tiny little kittens we brought home over 3 years ago, and I fell apart. I'm pretty sure I'm actually going through all 5 stages of grief over this. It feels like I abandoned my babies.
But then I remind myself that they're not babies. They're cats. And I'm doing this for the sake of my real babies, who will never again have their gear peed on, or be woken by the screech of an irate animal, or be grossed out by their own garage. This is absolutely the best solution for everyone involved. The cats will get more time and attention than we have to spare. The girls will get a pair of loving, devoted pets for their first apartment. And our family will get a little bit of peace.
Until my kids start begging for a puppy. But we've got a few years.
We gave away our cats.
Our relationship with them has been going downhill from the first moment they peed in the house. We accepted responsibility: their litter box had gotten dirty while we were on vacation. But then, we had a baby, and they became a little more destructive. I never knew what would be broken, chewed, or knocked over when I came downstairs in the morning. If they didn't get the attention they wanted, they started yowling at Lyndon's bedroom door while he was asleep. So we started locking them in the garage at night. One peed-on golf club bag later, we bought them a large cage instead. That worked for a while . . . until we had another baby.
The day I had to throw out my Graco stroller was the beginning of the end. They were basically using it as an alternative litter box. Then, I walked in the front door, back from a walk, still POd at them about the stroller, and found a pee spot up the side of my couch.
We listed them that same week (this past Friday, actually): "Free to good home." Within 48 hours, they were gone.
A nice pair of college girls came over Saturday morning, met the cats, loved them, and left to run a few errands, with a promise to come back for them in the afternoon. I spent all Saturday morning celebrating . . . and all Saturday afternoon grieving. Right before they left, I wanted to give Ferrarri one last scratch behind the ears, just to say goodbye, but he was already in his carrier, so I could only fit the tips of my fingers through the bars. He started rubbing his face against my fingers. Through the bars of the carrier. In that moment, I didn't think I could go through with it. I saw the tiny little kittens we brought home over 3 years ago, and I fell apart. I'm pretty sure I'm actually going through all 5 stages of grief over this. It feels like I abandoned my babies.
But then I remind myself that they're not babies. They're cats. And I'm doing this for the sake of my real babies, who will never again have their gear peed on, or be woken by the screech of an irate animal, or be grossed out by their own garage. This is absolutely the best solution for everyone involved. The cats will get more time and attention than we have to spare. The girls will get a pair of loving, devoted pets for their first apartment. And our family will get a little bit of peace.
Until my kids start begging for a puppy. But we've got a few years.
Thursday, June 7, 2012
I'm sittin' here I'm 5 months old...
(Kudos to anyone who can identify the song reference in the title above.)
I have noticed that the blog seems to be a little Lyndon-heavy as of late. This is partly because Lyndon is awake for significantly more of the day than Kieran is, and partly because when Kieran is awake, I usually have my hands full. Also, he wasn't particularly photogenic.
Well, the times, they are a-changin'. Kieran is 5 months old, so he needs less and smiles more. So here we go...
I have noticed that the blog seems to be a little Lyndon-heavy as of late. This is partly because Lyndon is awake for significantly more of the day than Kieran is, and partly because when Kieran is awake, I usually have my hands full. Also, he wasn't particularly photogenic.
Well, the times, they are a-changin'. Kieran is 5 months old, so he needs less and smiles more. So here we go...
Aaaaugh! A naked baby!!! (Actually, I'm pretty sure he had a diaper on.)
"Nom nom nom, mmmm fingers!"
Mischevious smile at the beach.
He loves to "fly". If he's in a good mood, pretty much any fast motion will make him scream with laughter.
"Say what?"
The hat was Lyndon's idea.
Concentrating very hard on how to get the toy into the mouth.
Yep, he's a boy all right. I've seen that vacant stare before.
If I only knew what goes on inside that cute little head of his, I'd have better captions for some of these. But who knows what babies are thinking when they make all their crazy faces? All I know is that I love this little guy who's showing so much personality these days.
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