Reason Beckett is Crying

 Reason My Son Is Crying: He is wearing a belt.

This was B the morning of my grandpa's funeral last year. His pants were too big, but the belt put him over the edge.

I had recently seen the blog Reasons My Son Is Crying and did what any responsible parent would do... pulled out the camera. B is my most dramatic child. Tears over something like a belt aren't that big of a deal. The belt stayed. The tears continued for a while.

My plan was to send in the picture to site, but I never got around to it. You know how it goes around her. I always have really good plans.

I never got around to posting it. But how could I miss this opportunity?

This post was inspired by the novel Reasons My Kid Is Crying by Greg Pembroke who captures frustrating yet hilarious parenting moments through perfectly captioned photos of unhappy kids. Join From Left to Write on April 15 we discuss Reasons My Kid Is Crying. As a member, I received a copy of the book for review purposes.

Blaming Ourselves When Bad Things Happen

B recently had a terrible fall. It was the single most frightening moment of my life. I saw the entire thing. I was RIGHT THERE. It was the kind of fall that could have been much worse than the six stitches and diagnosis of a "mild head injury."

I saw it happen. I was holding the baby. W was there. Matt was in the other room. It was as bad as every nightmare I have ever had about something terrible happening to my children. I couldn't move fast enough. I needed a second to think. To figure out a plan. To assess his condition. To make everything ok.

I put the baby on the ground. I reached for B. And I was so thankful he was coherent and breathing and with me.

I can list the ways the accident could have been prevented. I described the fall to the EMT and then the emergency room doctors. I told them all the details, admitting my short falls. And I have seen it happen again and again in my mind. When I'm giving him a hug, when I'm driving down the street, when I'm in the middle of a meeting... The vision of his fall haunts me.

What haunts me more is the thought that a parent could react in any other way. That was the case in the book The Execution of Noa P. Singleton, my latest From Left to Write Book Club read, which inspired this post. A mother drops her child down the stairs and convinced she'll be blamed for doing it on purpose, she calls the police, claims a robbery, then trashes her house. This becomes the baby's first memory and echoes throughout her life.

This post was inspired by the novel The Execution of Noa P. Singleton by Elizabeth L. Silver. Mere months before Noa’s execution, her victim’s mother changed her mind Noa’s sentence and vows to help stay the execution. Join From Left to Write on July 30 as we discuss The Execution of Noa P. Singleton.. As a member, I received a copy of the book for review purposes.

Beckett: Age 2

Beckett is two. In some ways I can't believe he is ONLY two. A lot has happened since he was born, but it's hard to believe how the days fly by.

Beckett is the most charming trouble maker you'll ever meet. He loves to entertain and get a laugh and is constantly up to something. If he sees an opportunity for mischief, he takes it. There's a little gleam in his eyes as he runs around the house quick as he can. Speaking of, Beckett is extremely quick and light on his feet. He's agile and has great awareness of his body. His signature move is running away from you and diving under the closest piece of furniture.

Beckett loves Thomas the Train, Elmo, and the movie Rio. He thinks super heroes are super cool, especially Batman. Other than Batman, he calls every other super hero "Hulk." His favorite song is "Troublemaker" by Olly Murs. He insists on having daily dance parties to it.

Our blond haired, blue eyed angel face is a fearless climber and jumper, but is very clingy when introduced to new social situations. Once comfortable, he runs around like crazy and easily plays with other kids. However, Beckett is not a fan of sharing and is extremely possessive of his things. His best friend and cousin C is often at the receiving end of high-pitched shrieks of "Mine!" He's a passionate little fellow and things like getting his haircut or getting sized for new shoes result in intense screaming and crying. But his passion also leads him to practicing jump moves off the couch for 20 minutes or running at a low chair to jump and spin in the air perfectly for the better part of an afternoon.

Beckett loves being outside and it's one of the main things that lead him to a tantrum (poor guy has to watch people come and go a lot). He is a terrific companion for errands, as he's always happy just to be asked along. He is quiet and content in the car and terrific in shopping carts.

A very picky eater, Beckett's main source of nutrition is milk. He also enjoys hummus, eggs, cheese, and chocolate. His very favorite thing is french fries or chips. Otherwise, he won't eat much of anything.

Beckett is sweet and cuddly and extremely loving... when he wants to be. He likes everything on his terms and - if you can catch him - will reward you with generous hugs when he's in the mood.

Beckett has a great sense of comic timing, loves playing it up for a laugh, but is the most temperamental kid you might ever meet. He completely understands everything and his speech is starting to get better, which gives him a lot of pride.

While complete opposites in almost every way, Beckett adores his older brother.... But isn't afraid to get scrappy when he needs to. Overall the two of them have a sweet relationship and play well together. He is extremely sweet with his baby sister and his other favorite thing to say is "baby cry." He hates to hear her cry.

We're so lucky to have Becks as our little boy. He is joyous and rambunctious and mischievous and sweet and crazy and runs into life at full speed. Man, I love this kid.

Previous Birthday Post:

• Beckett: Age 1

A Very Different First Hair Cut

Our first hair cut with W was a total reflection of being rookie parents... We went to an old barber shop (because I thought I was too cool for a kid's hair place), got plenty of videos and photos and then had special lunch plans. W was his normal sweet self. They cut his hair too short. There were no toys or bright colors, no movies or fire trucks to sit in. And we learned quickly that they have kid's salons FOR A REASON. We've been using them for W ever since.

So, today we took B for his first hair cut. Let's just say it went a little different:

"This bin of crap is cool and all, but I have a feeling we're here for something different."

"Get me out of this f-ing fire truck! Have you met me? Nothing about this is a good idea!"

"Stop taking pictures of me and get me out of this chair! I'll rip this place apart!"

"No! That comb! The horror! Get it away from me!"

"Awww, man, this kid's drama is making me look AWESOME!"

So, yeah... I think it's safe to say it didn't go well. After trying to put B in a fire truck seat we resorted to sitting in my lap. We couldn't even get a smock on either of us. No video was taken, the photos are limited. It was as bad as it looks. And was a great reflection of their personalities.

The Dailey Method: My Kids Hijacked My Workout

Have you tried The Dailey Method? It's a pretty kick ass work out. I was taking classes for a while when they first opened their North Shore location and then life got in the way and I stopped carving that time out for myself. So, I'm giving it another go.

I scheduled a visit. I signed the boys up for their children's room, because it looks really fun, clean, and W loves new toys. I figured B would follow his brother's lead and it would be fun for both of them.

Excited may not even begin to tell you how I was feeling... This is the first time I have carved out time for myself to work out in a long, long time. And I knew I was in for a really good work out. The staff was terrific, assured me it was a great exercise for pregnant ladies, and were sweet with the boys. I brought them into the play room and they seemed ok. I stepped out and thought I heard some crying. I figured it was B, but that it would subside over time.

The class started. I was just getting into it, feeling good... Until a staff member stepped in and gave me an apologetic wave. "I'm sorry, but they're both really upset and it's not getting any better."

"Both of them?!?" I asked.

"Yes, I think W is upset because B is so upset."

I looked into the room and there were my two boys sobbing and snotty and totally inconsolable. So, I walked in, sat on the ground, and they pounced. I calmed them down, but there was still plenty of jagged breathing as W explained that B needed me and I should stay in there for B. Uh huh.

The woman explained to me that B got really upset when I left, but W was too consumed with the toys to notice, but then he started to get scared as B continued to cry harder and longer... And pretty soon both of them were a mess. She apologized that she wasn't able to fix it and they had to come get me, knowing that it was my limited time for myself. I can't tell you how much I wanted to give her a hug. The fact that she got that instead of assuming I was just dropping them in her lap made me want to kiss her.

I sat with the boys for a while, trying to distance myself to gauge whether there would be an opportunity for me to slip out, but they were onto me. It wasn't happening. Before I knew it, the hour was coming to an end. We'd read a few books, they showed me some cool trucks, I enjoyed a nice conversation with the woman in the kid's room (and kept myself from any of the hugging or kissing that I wanted to share with her), and then I decided it was time to go. I scooped up the boys and we headed home as the class was letting out.

I didn't mind. It was their first drop off experience like this. I never even stopped to think that there would be an issue. That was my fault. B is a mama's boy. He doesn't like when I leave him to go to the next room in our house, let alone in a strange room. W would have been fine, but he is very introspective and emotional, so probably started to freak himself out because of B.

Ok, so I was bummed I only got 15 minutes of class time in, but it's better than nothing! I've already scheduled my next class, but I didn't schedule child care this time. If I do that again it will be for W only and for now I'm going to make it my time in every way I can.

Disclosure: I received a one-month unlimited package to The Dailey Method Kenilworth. All opinions are my own.

My Magic Big Brother Moment

A big thanks to Disney Baby for sponsoring this post and the Disney Baby “Little Character” Contest!

Parenthood includes an incredible amount of "a-ha" moments. One of my favorite moments was when I caught W singing to his new baby brother who was hanging out in his swing. I could hear him softly and sweetly singing a made up song: "You're so cute, Look at those little feet. I love you. You're my brother. What a sweet baby."

I walked into the living room, sat down next to him and rubbed his back, getting ready to tell him how proud I was of him, that he was such a wonderful older brother... Until he finished his song with "I don't love you. Go away" followed by a sideways smile as he glanced to see my reaction.

I laughed, realizing my attention-loving son was figuring out how to be a big brother while still keeping the spotlight on him and using his incredible sense of humor to do so. Little did I know this would be the moment that seems to best define their relationship still. My boys are sweet together. There is so much love there, but W always looks for his next opportunity to get a laugh and maintains an air that he is being a little put out by this new kid.

When you're preparing to add a sibling to your family, it's impossible to comprehend that you'll love the next one as much or share your attention and affection. You can imagine that your children will love each other and develop a great relationship, but it doesn't seem real until you're faced with it. That was the first moment that I experienced what it was like to be the mother of siblings. And I'll never forget it.

That's one of those things that I love... When you think back on life moments it's often the small moments that become the most memorable. I remember building up the moment that W would walk into the hospital to meet his baby brother. I had this fantasy of how it was going to go, but it was hardly memorable. W was more interested in the "Big Brother Gift" we had for him and seemed overwhelmed and confused. It wasn't until we'd been home for a few days, things quieted down, and we started to settle in that real moments were possible.

What is your magic moment as a mom of an infant?  Share your magic moments and vote for your favorite sweet baby in the “Disney Baby ‘Little Character’ Contest.” Proud parents shared photos of their babies for a chance to win $10,000 toward their baby's future education, so help them out with a vote! Voters will be also eligible for a chance to win the Voter’s Sweepstakes, a Beach Vacation at Fairmont Miramar Hotel & Bungalows. Voting closes this week, but you can vote every day to increase your chances of winning!

Disclosure: I was compensated for this post. All opinions are my own.

Beckett: Age 1

Beckett is a year old, which marks the fastest year of our lives. Matt and I used to joke around that at least we'd know that our children would all have big brown eyes. And then we had this adorable little blue eyed, blond haired boy. I still look at him and wonder where the heck he came from.

If we are going to believe gender stereotypes, then Beckett is ALL boy. He loves cars, trucks, and balls. He picks everything up and throws it across the room... hard. Beckett is always going. He climbs on everything he can without fear. He crawled early, walked early, and now confidently runs around the house. He growls when playing with dinosaurs.

Beckett is playing with language, but is still limited to "dada" and "buh bye." He lets out tirades of babble when he gets mad or excited and I hate to imagine what he's trying to say. His spirited babbling and high pitched shrieks make me nervous about what's going to happen when he can talk.

Beckett is fascinated by his older brother and yells "wawawawa" when William is running away from him or doing anything that looks really fun, which is everything to Beckett. When picked on, Beckett definitely puts up a fight and he never backs down to wresting with his brother or pushing William aside to get to a toy.

Our boy is crazy loving and loves cuddling before bed. His sense of humor is already blossoming and he loves making people laugh. He loves baths and comes running as soon as he hears the water running. He fights like hell when we're changing his diaper or dressing him.

Beckett makes friends everywhere we go. He loves being out in public and stares at people until they notice him before breaking into a huge grin. If his stare down doesn't work, he grunts and shrieks at people until they look his way. He's an insistent little fellow.

We're dealing with a very fickle eater. The only food Beckett loves so far has been bread and shredded cheese. Otherwise he usually likes bananas and oranges, sometimes likes yogurt, rarely likes pasta and peas, and refuses to try about everything else.

Beckett cannot wait to be a big boy. He plays with William's toys, thinks he's part of William's play dates with his friends, and tries to actually play at the park.

It's hard to remember life without Beckett and he has made our family feel so much more complete in such a short time. We're incredibly lucky to have this sweet boy. We're nervous that his time as the baby of our family will be short with another baby coming 17 months after him, but know that with his spunk and energy he'll never get lost in the shuffle.

Happy Mother's Day Times... THREE

Today was my fourth Mother's Day and it was gorgeous. We didn't get to do a ton of fun stuff because recovery from my appendectomy has been more difficult lately and I was really sore today. I've probably been pushing myself too much, but it's hard not to when you have two kids and a full-time job.

Anyway... I had a great time with Matt and the boys. And what made today even more amazing... Not only am I a mom of two awesome boys, but come late October I'll be a mom to THREE. Yes, I am 16 weeks pregnant. Things are about to get a lot more crazy around here!

So, while he's still our baby, here's a photo of B looking all sweet for you to gush over...

We're Not Religious, But We're Faithful

For From Left to Write Book Club we read I Am Forbidden by Anouk Markovits, an amazing book that introduced me to the world of the Hasidic faith and made me consider my own. This post is inspired by the book.

I'm not really the religious type. My parents attempted to raise me Catholic, but everything in my being always seem to revolt against it. We weren't an especially religious family and rarely actually attended church when it wasn't a holiday or due to a streak of guilt. Matt was baptized Catholic, but that was the extent of his involvement with a church. We're both what I've heard called "recovering Catholics."

We didn't get married in a church. We hired an officiant, who was an Unitarian minister, and included very little mention of God in our ceremony. W was not baptized. At the age of three he has yet to even enter a church. I don't question these decisions. But, when B was born, I started to question my beliefs... Is this it? We live, we create people we love dearly, and then we die? Is that what I really believe? Because, maaaaan, that is super depressing, right?

I was dealing with my own mortality, yes. (It's not lost on me that I had a son named Beckett and then suddenly seemed to have my own "Waiting for Godot" experience...) It's not faith that I'm looking for, because we're faithful people. We believe in doing good. We believe in being truthful. We believe in treating others well. We live with a strong moral compass and are raising our children to do the same. We don't cheat, we don't lie, we don't steal, or do any of the other things that most religions command you not to do. But, are we religious? No. Do we have a general sense of faith that I can't describe? Yes.

So, I asked myself some questions that I haven't before:

Are we looking for a church? Not right now.

Might we in the future? Possibly.

Do I feel like my childhood religion experience added anything to my life? Not really.

Do I feel like my children could gain something from being involved in a religion? Possibly.

I'm not opposed to religion, but as a friend so eloquently said to me recently: "Churches have very little to do with faith or religion these days." And he's right. If we choose a religion, it has to be a place that would feel like home, that would include teachings I would be pleased to share with my children, that was built on core beliefs that I share. We don't need a church or religion to raise good people, but it might be nice to meet people who share our views. I see the opportunity that churches give to volunteer, participate in family activities, and meet like-minded people, but I also see plenty of not-very-good people hiding behind church and religion. So, for now, we'll continue to raise good people who may not step into a church for a few more years. And I'm ok with that.

This post is inspired by I AM FORBIDDEN by Anouk Markovits. Though not sisters by blood but through their Hasidic faith, Mila and Atara views the rules and structure of their culture differently. Mila seeks comfort in the Torah while Atara searches for answers in secular literature she is forbidden to read. Ultimately each must make an irrevocable decision that will change their lives forever. Join From Left to Write on May 8 as we discuss I AM FORBIDDEN. As a member, I received a copy of the book for review purposes.

In Sickness I'm Much More Appreciative Of My Partner

For the From Left to Write Book Club we read Signs of Life by Natalie Taylor, which inspired this post.

We've had a sick house for the last couple of weeks. Two Sunday trips to the doctor's office in a row finally determined that W had strep and B had a double ear infection. B has been the sickest child I have ever had to care for. His temperature sat between 102 and 105 for three days. He has projectile vomited on me more times than I care to remember. He has had diarrhea (I know this is totally gross, but so is motherhood) beyond what I thought possible. He's refusing food, thickly congested, coughing, cranky, and in pain.

I'm just finishing Signs of Life by Natalie Taylor, sharing the loss of her very young husband before the birth of their first child and her early days of parenting  on her own. Now I'm sick. I'm home bound today, stuck in bed trying to beat whatever it is I caught from my little germ factories. And I wonder how I would have navigated the last week on my own.

At first I planned to write about how unfair wakes are for the family who lost someone, reflecting on my uncle's tragic death only a year ago, and watching my aunt and cousins stand for hours receiving and comforting strangers. But, then, as is often the case, being a parent threw a wrench into those plans. We all got sick and I became aware of how much of a difference it made to have a partner through all of it.

The other night B was laying in bed next to me. I had just given him a bottle and was starting to doze off... And woke as he projectile vomited all over me and the bed. Matt sprung up and grabbed him, took him to the nursery and started to undress him. I pulled off my shirt and then pulled the sheets off the bed. I changed and took B from Matt, who then found fresh sheets, remade the bed, and threw all puke-covered items in the washing machine. It was a true team effort. And we somehow did it without turning on too many lights and waking up W. I try to imagine how I would have handled that on my own. I would have figured it out, but it would have been really hard and it would have included more lights, more crying (both me and B), and an awake 3 year old.

Moments like this leave me in awe of single parents. Whether single by choice or single by tragedy or single by job circumstances that leave them alone for days or weeks or months, they navigate all of the things that I take for granted. It makes me feel like such a wimp. I don't go to the grocery store with the two boys, because why bother?!?! Matt can stay home with them and I can move much quicker on my own. When one of the kids is sick or misbehaving or driving me crazy, I have someone to tag me out. When B's fever sky-rocketed above 105 I had someone to help me make the best decisions about what to do. When W split his eye open and needed stitches, I had someone to drive me to the hospital. Simply said, parenting with a (GOOD) partner is easier.

I commend every single parent out there. They are truly amazing. I don't think a family needs two parents to be successful. Families come in many different styles. But, sitting here sick and feeling bad for myself, the last thing I can imagine having to do tonight is make dinner, bathe the kids, and get them to bed on my own. But, if that were to be my situation, I know I'd have no choice but to do everything I could to take care of my kids and ensure their happiness. Because that's what you do for your kids... Whether parenting on your own or with a partner.

During the fifth month of her pregnancy of her first child Natalie Taylor is devastated by the sudden death of her husband. Her journey with grief is chronicled in the memoir Signs of Life. Join From Left to Write on March 29 as we discuss Signs of Life by Natalie Taylor. As a member of From Left to Write, I received a copy of the book. All opinions are my own.

No Two Sick Kids Are Alike

It's just as everyone says: Your kids will be very different from each other. And mine are very different... Especially when they're sick.

B spiked a 104.6 fever on Saturday evening. The highest fever I have ever seen. He was otherwise happy and seemed normal. Until he wasn't -- And then things went downhill fast. This is the first time I've really dealt with a super sick B. And I just kind of expected it would play out the way it does with W.

In the most simple ways they are the most different:

• W is up throughout the night when sick. B sleeps right through.
• B refuses all medicine, wrestles you, clenches his teeth, spits it out, all drama. W would happily open his mouth for the dispenser and still asks for more.
• B likes Pedialite and happily drinks it. W has never accepted it.
• W tends to get cranky and lethargic when he's sick. B still has a big smile on his face and is still all over the place.
• B is a puker. Actually, he's a projectile vomiter. W rarely throws up. I think he's only thrown up 2 or 3 times.

So, what's the point? The point is this: Once you feel like you know how to deal with a sick kid, the next one will throw you for a loop. Your expectations for having a sick kid and how they'll act (like everything else) continues to change and defy your expectations.

Trust Me, You'll Love Baby #2 Just As Much As #1

Almost everyone I know thinking about having Baby #2 has the same thought: There is NO WAY I will love Baby #2 quite as much.

I thought this too. Actually, I was POSITIVE that there was no way that any baby could ever compete with my love for W. I was really nervous that I wouldn't have enough love for both of them or that I'd always favor W. And then B was born... And I can say to parents thinking about Baby #2: You're wrong. You're beyond wrong. And so was I.

I never, ever imagined how different and fiercely you can love another child without any hint of competition or change in your love for your first child. It's hard to grasp, but your heart grows and stretches beyond what you imagined possible, as does your capacity to love. It's just one of those crazy parenting things.

When people ask me about B, I usually tell them that he and I are connected in a special way. I mean it. I feel a very strong, emotional connection to him, as if he and I have known each other for a very long time. It's hard to explain and might sound totally crazy, but I can look at him and know we're on the same wavelength. There are moments when I'm positive I know what he's thinking or that we're in on the same joke. And he loves me in the sweetest way. He has been wrapping his arms around my neck and fiercely hugging me for months and just this weekend he grabbed my cheeks and put his lips to mine. I'm convinced it was the first time he kissed me.

We were all having dinner the other night and W started asking when B will be old enough to play with him more. I asked if he remembered life without B and he had to really think about it... and so did I. As each day passes it's getting harder to remember life before B. It's almost as if we were all waiting for him to get here. And it will be the same for your family. I can't promise many things when it comes to parenting, but I can promise that.

Wordless Wednesday: Pffffffft

Sleep Training Baby #2: Same Stress, Better Perspective

Disclaimer: This is an outdated photo of a sleeping Baby B. Still adorable, though.

Right now we're potty training and sleep training (yeah, gooood times!). You can guess which kid is going through their respective stage, right? These are seriously two of the hardest pieces of parenting that we've experienced. Since potty training has been rough and I can't tell you what works, today I'd like to focus on sleep training your second child. You feel confident after successfully training #1, but it's still stressful for mom and dad.

Here is what we've learned this week about sleep training: it doesn't necessarily get easier with your second baby. We had much of the same concerns training B at seven months that we did when we trained W at nine months. But, we both know it's time. B slept through the night from two months to four months, but for the last three months he's been up all night. Our nights have been dominated by a baby in bed between us, waking up and wanting to be comforted. He likes to sleep with his forehead pressed against mine, which is sweet until you find yourself using the bedside table for a pillow. I started to reach low points of exhaustion after three months of not sleeping. It was time.

We used the Ferber Method, which worked like a charm for W. The first night is stressful. B woke up crying and after five minutes Matt went in to comfort him, then we waited ten before comforting again, and then 15 before another visit. And then... Silence. Sweet silence.

It was a painful 40 minutes. We stared at each other, tried to watch Portlandia, and I googled "Ferber Method night one" in search of posts and articles to reinforce that we were doing the right thing. Listening to your baby cry is torture and nothing makes you question yourself more as a parent, even the second time around. Even when you know it's right.

But there was a distinct difference this time around: Perspective. It's almost as if we've looked ahead in the book and see it will be alright... We know that ultimately we're doing what's best. With W we weren't sure whether we were doing the right thing or how long it would take. We also didn't know how much of a difference a reliable sleep schedule makes. Hannemaniacs are happy with reliable sleep. And in 2012 we're bringing reliable sleep back into this house.

Parenting is about making difficult decisions that you know will be best in the long run. Every parenting decision feels heavy. They don't feel easier just because you've made them before.

It's Night 4 and we're still not out of the woods (though he did sleep through the night on Night 3). Each night has gotten better, but it could still take come time. We're still stressed about when we might hear him cry, but we're not nearly as freaked out as we were last time around.

Hopefully potty training will be similar in a few years, because right now it's hell.

Note: There are extreme opinions encouraging or discouraging just about every choice you make in parenting and sleeping is one of those hot topics. I love comments (really I do), but if they're attack comments, they'll be deleted. We all raise our children differently. You have your way. I have mine. Let's not attack each other's decisions.

Wordless Wednesday: Looking Into 2012

Are Picky Eaters Born That Way?

Even Big Brother can't convince this baby that pureed food is a delicacy.

W has always been a great eater. He's adventurous, has a variety of foods that he enjoys, and doesn't like junky foods. Currently his favorite foods are California rolls and chopped salad. He's three, so I realize this is rare. I always kind of assumed that I could take credit for his terrific eating habits. All of his baby food was homemade and organic and I made him try just about every fruit and vegetable I could get my hands on. I became a baby food making lover.

So, yes, though I may not have admitted it at the time, I was patting myself on the back for creating a good, healthy eater. And I figured that if I just did it the same way with B I'd have another great eater on my hands.

We've been working on the feeding process with B for a couple of months. And it's not going too well. (Honestly, it's been total crap.) This kid does not like food. And not only does he not like it, he forces himself to throw up if he especially doesn't like it. Very dramatic.


Seriously? You're trying the carrots again?
No can do, lady.

I've broken food into four categories for B:

1. Foods that make him throw up: avocado, peas

2. Foods he accepts, spits out, and then refuses: apple, mango, carrots, rice cereal

3. Foods that had limited success (a few teaspoons forced into his mouth): butternut squash, parsnips, banana, peach, zucchini, sweet potato

4. Food he likes: pears (and, come on, pears are a gimme!)
I really felt that feeding was one of my areas of expertise as a mom. Was it just that I had an easy kid?


OK, now this is just gross.

That's the thing with being a parent, you never know what's coming around the corner. And you never stop learning, even when it comes to the things that you're good at. Making baby food takes work and there is something about having that food turned down and go to waste that is really, really painful. But, it doesn't mean I'm going to stop trying.

You just try to break my love of making baby food, little man. I dare you.

Our Little B

This is B's sweet little expression about 90% of the time. Our happy, happy boy.

He's FIVE months old. Seriously, did that time fly for you as fast as it did for me? I received all the warnings that it just starts to go faster and faster with each kid, but I kind of underestimated just how fast it could go. In the blink of an eye five months have flown by and I look at what's been documented about our little guy and realize he hasn't gotten much Hannemaniacs air time.


So, I thought I would introduce you to our little Baby B, who is quite possibly the sweetest, happiest baby I have ever met. He has an infectious little smile that constantly stops strangers on the street. He likes to intensely stare at people until they make eye contact and then breaks into a big smile when they smile at him. And if you don't smile at B, you have no heart. He's happiest standing and bouncing and rolls easily from front-to-back and back-to-front. 

B easily slept through the night at 2 months and, up until a few weeks ago, he was a champion sleeper. He popped his first tooth at three months and his second tooth at four months, both in the bottom center.

B adores his older brother and loves watching W and Matt play. He is fascinated by Howie. His favorite activity is burying his head in my neck and shrieking. We spend a lot of time sitting on the couch playing this game. A true mama's boy.

This little baby makes me incredibly happy and I spend a lot of time laughing at him and making funny faces and noises to make him smile (really, it doesn't take much).

I never, ever imagined I would have a child with blue eyes, but his seem here to stay. And now I can't imagine not having those big blue eyes to look into every morning. I can still remember when it was just the three of us, but barely. It seems like he's always been a part of our family.

In a way I really thought that our second child would just be a clone of W, but it's not the case. Both boys have distinctly different personalities and looks. I can't wait to see Beckett's continue to blossom.

Wordless Wednesday: My Day

When a Baby's Fever is Over 100.4

Lessons You Will Learn From This Post:

• Seeing a baby with an iv is just plain sad.
  
• Pediatricians actually have a reason for telling you to keep your babies away from other kids and anyone carrying germs for the first four weeks of baby's life.
• I like to brag about my super human ability to be the last man standing around here, but not include the break down that follows (such as the July 2010 Shingles experience).
• Losing power sucks.
• Sitting in the hospital with a baby for 24 hours is B.O.R.I.N.G. (after you get over the scary part).
• Doctor's answering services want to save you money.
• When your baby's fever is over 100.4, pack your bags... You're going to the hospital.
  

W has had a summer cold that he caught from Matt who caught it from someone at work. Then he spiked a fever and the cold moved to his chest. We tried to keep him away from the baby and tried to keep Matt's baby handling to a minimum. But, despite our best intentions, the baby started a low grade fever on Wednesday night (during our no power period). I checked him every few hours. It jumped around, sitting below 100.1 until around 8 am on Thursday morning when it jumped to 100.5.

All I could hear was my pediatrician's voice telling me to keep the baby away from other kids for the first month and to immediately call the office if he develops a fever above 100.4 and to plan to make a visit to the hospital.

Below is a version of the phone calls that followed:

Answering Service: "Doctor's answering service."

Me: "Um, hi, my baby has a 100.5 fever and my doctor told me to call if it ever went over 100.4."

AS: "Would you like me to call the doctor on call?"

Me: "Yeah, I guess. This is what he told me to do."

AS: "OK, just to warn you, there will be a $50 fee. Would you still like me to call him?"

Me: "Yeah, whatever, fine. Call him. My baby has a fever."

AS: "The office opens in 45 minutes and then you wouldn't have to incur the fee. Would you like to wait?"

Me: "Not really. If the doctor said to call right away, I'm guessing he has a good reason. I'm calling because he told me to."

OK, so maybe I have a tendency to assume that the bad warnings will never apply to me and tend to zone out during these conversations in all aspects of life. So, of course I had NO IDEA why the fever might be an issue. In my head I had created a scenario in which a fever could cause brain damage and that every minute would count in saving my baby from long term complications or something dramatic. Going on...

The phone rang within in a couple of minutes and here is a little part of our conversation:

Dr: "Can you tell me what's going on with B?"

Me: "He has a fever of 100.5 and the doctor told me to call if it went over 100.4."

Dr: "OK, is he acting normal?"

Me: "Um, I don't know. I don't really know him that well, he's pretty young. But, yeah, he's normal. Sleeping more during the day, feeding more, not sleeping at night, but that's all normal for him, I guess. I'm pretty sure he has the same cold my husband and other son have. He's pretty congested. I'm the only one who hasn't caught it." (yes, I feel the need to let the pediatrician know that I'm doing just fine.)

Dr: "That could be it, but we can't make any assumptions with a baby. So, I'm going to ask you to go to the emergency room. I'd rather be safe and this is how we would normally treat an infant with a fever. I'll call and let them know you're on the way, so you won't have to wait."

Me: "Ummm, OK. So, I have to go now?"

Dr: "Yes, as soon as you can. And they might want to keep you for a night or possibly two, so you should pack a bag."

Me: "Really? Could the thermometer be a fluke? Should I retake it?" (Cue tears.)

Dr: "Are YOU okay?"

Me: (Cue more tears.) "I'm fine. Really, I am. It's just been such a long week. Everyone is sick. I haven't gotten more than two hours of sleep for weeks. I've had mastitis, then we both had thrush. All he wants to do is eat and he only sleeps during the day. And the power! Our power has been out. I haven't showered in days. Our power just came back on and now I have to leave?"

Dr: "This power thing is crazy, right? I just got here and could barely see to open the door with my key. It's hot in here and kind of smells like sewer. Our computers are down, our phones are down, and we only have enough power from the generators to keep the vaccines cold enough. I can't see anything."

And I immediately pulled it together, realizing the world is much bigger than what is going on within the walls of our little house. I needed to suck it up. After we talked through what would happen at the ER (urine test, blood test, and spinal tap to cover all the bases and then lots of antibiotics given by iv), I through a bag together and we were off to the hospital where he'd been born only four weeks prior. Too early for a return visit.

I spent 24 hours in the hospital with the baby, which meant I held him for 24 hours straight, working around his iv to hold him, nurse him, and change him. There are no swings or bouncy seats in the hospital, just your arms. Luckily, my mom, sisters, and Matt each paid us some visits while passing W around. I sat on a hospital bed, greeting the nurses coming in and out, didn't get much sleep, and may have watched Dear John in the wee hours of the night (don't judge, my choices were worse).

Now we're home, healthy and happy. Everything checked out OK and Matt got his first good night's sleep in four weeks.

Welcome Beckett

Baby Boy #2 arrived a week ago. I woke up with contractions around 5 am, went to the hospital at noon, and he was born around 6:15 pm. All in all, it was not bad. After W's delivery you all know how anxious I was about this part of the whole baby having thing, but as I was promised, the second was far easier. It doesn't hurt that he is a full pound and nine ounces smaller than W was when he was born and has a perfect, tiny little head.

I feel good. Baby B is adorable. He sleeps for good long stretches during the day, but nights are hit and miss. His crazy appetite is keeping me very busy and my boobs feel like they're going to fall off. At his four day check-up, our pediatrician was shocked to find that he's actually gained weight since we left the hospital. (Hopefully that means my metabolism is nice and busy!)

Matt took the week off. Good friends have brought over meals. W is adjusting pretty well. We've been able to enjoy some good weather. So, other than the nightly hormonal anxiety attacks/teary freak outs (me, not the baby), we're doing pretty well.

Now I just have to learn to use the computer with one hand. Anyone have suggestions?