My Cutest Milestone Yet . . . Check Me Out!

Mama and I take a bath every morning, an

activity I thoroughly enjoy. I particularly like

scoping out mama's myriad potions and lotions,

especially my "California Baby" shampoo. That

said, bathtime become's much more interesting

now that I've discovered that yes, I can actually

fit my foot (well, part of it) in my mouth. Since I

found my feet, I've become obsessed. Nothing

else means anything -- my feet are where it's at.

Me and My Bebe Pod . . . an early Christmas present.

Just Me and the Mama

Aunties!!!

Auntie Erica came down from Portland.
She's enthralled, of course.

Auntie Heather visits me all the way
from Arizona; this is the first time she
met me. Of course, she's enamored.

Auntie Alyssa (of the previous post's

pasta fame -- she made it for me).

Pasta a la Ten-Week-Old

If it looks like I'm eating pasta . . . it's because I am (or trying to. The mama wouldn't let me actually eat it. Wench.) I've discovered big-people food but haven't yet ascertained why they won't give it to me. I gummed at least 10 penne noodles on this particular evening (after mama got rid of the garlic and wine sauce). Mmm mmm!

My First Tea Party

So, a few of mama's MiraCosta friends and colleagues decided to throw me a tea party/shower as they wanted to meet me. And meet me they did -- check me out.


Brandi's trying to hold me, but I'm too busy
eyebballing the big-people food.



Denise kept me company (and calm)
most of the afternoon. (Don't let this
picture fool you.)

The Ubiquitous Baby BJORN . . .

The mama here. Reed's cranky and taking time off from the blog. Anyone who's anyone in the household of Reed knows that the Bjorn's the thing . . . the sling, err, Hotsling, hasn't yet been retired, but it seems to be on it's way out. The struggle to shove Reed's butt and legs into the sling as if they he were bread dough that required kneading might be one of the contributing factor's to the sling's probable demise . . . and it's replacement with the Bjorn (which, incidentally, boasts a few neat hooks and snaps that require only that baby be smoothly inserted and lifted out, without threat of poked and prodded flesh). Mostly, we've carried him around the house, often pausing in front of the Christmas tree (a rather crack-like addiction for babies). The true test? The store (any store, really, though Walmart at Christmas might yield the truest results) -- we'll let you know if the Bjorn maintains in the brand-name baby-gear war (ughh).

Me, Myself, and Ike

I wish my kitty liked me. As the proverbial saying goes, looks can be deceiving. The mama's shoving Ike's butt from behind to get this shot, AND I have red-eye that she's failed to correct before posting this. I guess she wanted everyone to see my sitting up like a big boy -- all by myself (well, and two pillows). Stay tuned; I just know she's going to put up a bunch of cheeseball X-mas shots with me in some stupid hat. Do all parents do this stuff?

Yay Cousins!!

Reed met one of his cousins for the first time (or, this is the first cousin he's met?)

Anyway, my cousin Jessica brought 2 and 1/2 year-old Delaney over to meet her cousin Reed.

She loves babies and made sure he was alright, stroking his cheek when he cried and whispering, "it's okay, baby." There's not much cuter than that. Delaney's about to become a big sister, and we can't wait to meet the newest member of the family, another girl. I'm sure Reed's going to be a big fan of both as he grows older.

They say it's my birthday . . .

And it is. Today I'm two months old, and boy, I am not happy about it. I decided to morph into Grump E. the Baby today to celebrate despite my previous week of being Excellent Baby, perhaps because the mama decided it would be a good day to force me into contortions on the Boppy so as to get her precious photographic evidence of my ability to hold my chest and head up. I cooperated for awhile. Until I didn't. Check out all the befores . . . then my after. :)

P.S. the mama doesn't yet know how to move photos around on this thing, so they're out of sequence.

Cute.

New Kicks, New Digs (er, chair. Digs for a peanut are pretty small, so a chair counts)

Grandma Part 2 brought me these frog shoes from Florida. I had a great time kicking them right off, but I let the 'rents get a few pictures of them first. Then, Grandma Part 1 bought me a vibrating chair. See illustration. I'm not quite sure what to think about the vibrator, but I figure I'll tolerate. The adults all seem amused enough.

Milestone update: I gripped a "Tide to Go" eraser pen in my clammy, flailing little hand for at least a minute yesterday, proving that I'm rapidly developing gross motor skills AND that I'm gaining the ability to poke said adults in the forehead when they bug me. Just wait until I manage to gain a bit more dexterity -- annoying adult = stabbed forehead (as long as my mama keeps putting blunt objects in my paws).

Me and My Sling . . . an Experiment in Progress

Mama decided to throw me in this sling thing to cart me around. Personally, I find that's it a way for the 'rents to be a little lazy -- who needs to be "hands-free?" Why don't they just carry me in their arms like normal people? I threw a few fits as they introduced me to it even though I secretly like it, I think. See evidence to the right.

Me and Grandma

Yep -- that's us. I'm busy giving her quite the run for her money with my stay-awake-athon.

Grandma Part 2

Mama Bonnie arrived from Florida yesterday. . . she's my grandma, Part 2. Part 1 lives nearby (well, up the street, really), and she takes me off my mama's hands frequently, she says, to give mama a break. Really, she does it because I'm irresistible, ready to eat. But I digress. This is the first time I've met Mama Bonnie/Grandma Part 2 because she lives far away. I'm impressed -- she's very attentive to my swinging needs, pushing me religiously in my crappy, need-to-be-pushed-manually-because-my-parents-can't-figure-it-out-Fisher-Price-Aquarium-contraption, and she walks me, too. She also thinks I bear a striking resemblance to E.T. when I flip out (she says I'm spun out, actually) . . . a sentiment that my mama eerily voiced separately. If two of the people in my world think I look like E.T., am I doomed? I mean, my world's populated by about six people at this point, so the numbers don't look good. In any case, I'm going to continue enjoying the dueling grandmas and will post some pics of both soon -- I'm hoping to get pretty spoiled this week since I've got two to dote on me.

Lung Update

Good news!

We saw Reed's pulmonologist (lung specialist) last night, and he tells us there isn't anything wrong with his lung. In fact, he feels that the doctors who examined/worked with Reed earlier on may have mistook the thymus gland for an unidentified lung mass (what's on the X-rays that we've been so worried about). This means that, potentially, nothing ever was wrong with his lung . . . and we/he went through all this, including the NICU stay for something that was, well, nothing. Still, he tells us that Reed could very well have had pneumonia and that it's simply cleared up at this point. I'm not sure if we'll ever really know what was wrong, etc. What's important is that it's now right. He did tell us that, based on some of Reed's behaviors and responses, he seems to have some reflux issues. Those, of course, are nothing but treatable. So we're all quite relieved -- the little guy got a 95% rating on his oxygenation test and is exercising his lungs with the best of them. See attached illustration.

Thanks for all your prayers.

Dada and me

Dada requested that I post this particular pic . . . he thinks he looks pretty hot. But I eclipse everyone else in photos, and how could I not?

Ike tries to eat me . . . I guess the tuna wasn't enough

Since I came home from the hospital, my kitty has expressed nothing but the utmost disdain for me. I can take him, though. I have flailing fists of steel. And look who dada's holding when it's over? My cuteness prevails (this time).