The last day you’re a “baby”

My little Graham cracker. Little pickles. You’ll be one year old tomorrow. And I’m so, so thrilled we are out of the newborn phase, the tiny infant phase, and the “I’m a human lump” phase. It’s a blast to see your incessantly busy personality developing. It’s funny to see your dark hair fading to red. I’m so glad we didn’t name you Archer, your nickname would have inevitability been Archie with those ginger locks you have. Your laugh, your ability to mimic your parents and brother, and your irresistible smile all add to your giant personality. As you grow, you will continue to prove you are a force to be reckoned with.

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You’re more… challenging than your brother. More strong willed. You are your own person, no doubt, but I see a lot of me in you, while I see more of your dad in your brother. I can’t wait to watch you grow more, hear you talk more, see you explore more. As you embark on the adventurous toddler phase, I’m excited to see you and your big bro bond more and play together even more. You have no idea how lucky you are to have such a sweet, good natured brother. I foresee you getting him into trouble, and him working to keep you out of it.

I call your brother my heart walking around. I watch you, with your ferocity, your sometimes volatile disposition, and your unwillingness to be ignored, and I think, while he is my heart, you are my spirit, little one.

Happy birthday, Graham cracker.

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Eleven Months

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Busy, snuggly, talkative and sweet- he’s so much fun to be around these days. It’s hard to believe he’ll be a year old in four weeks.

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He’s standing on his own. 2.0 talks and babbles a lot, but when he’s quiet, he is hard at work figuring out something. He imitates his big brother’s play, he exhibits self restraint (mini Gwinn is pretty awesome at this too, who knows), going so far as to shake his head “no” when he gets to the dog water bowl and doesn’t reach in it. I don’t even have to say anything.

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He’s only getting up once a night now. He coos and babbles in his sleep.

The baby weight is off, as well as another 8-10 lbs. I can finally do 10+ pull ups in a row again. It’s such a relief to know the toddler stage is just around the corner.

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So much to say

There is so much to say, but for this moment I just want to share:

-Mini Gwinn is writing and it is surreal to see this child that used to live inside me doing things like this.

-2.0 stood alone on his own today.

-2.0 knows who “mama” and “dada” are, and says our names when one of us walks into the room. He says other things as well, but the identifier thing is radical.

-Mini Gwinn is freakishly good at Battlefield (he only plays on empty servers, no worries)

-2.0 had hoarding tendencies. He’s been collecting various toys in the playroom and storing them in a dump truck.

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He packed those by himself

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Brothers sitting together

I’ve gotten a clean bill of health from my doctor. No hyperthyroidism, just the symptoms. I had a bizarre encounter with one of our neighbors, of which I’ll have to write soon. 2.0’s birthday is in just a few short weeks. How time flies.


Ten Months

2.0 is talking, moving, sleeping, and playing more and more like a toddler and less like a baby every day. I’m thrilled. He says “mama”, ” dada”, “yaya” (whatever that is), and “baba”. For the most part he’s in 18 months clothing, with a little lag in the leg length department. Mini Gwinn was the same way and now it seems like he’s all leg, so who knows.

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Yesterday he had blood drawn for allergy testing and took it like the champ he is. We are armed with Epipens and waiting to hear back from the allergist. In the mean time I’m only feeding him the handful of foods we know he doesn’t have a reaction to. I’m pretty tired of giving him bananas, apples, raisins, zucchini, blueberries and acorn squash, so he must be bored out of his mind with the limited choices.

He still nurses five-ish times a day. I had mastitis last week and it made things a bit rocky in that department, but we are on the tail end of it all and back to normal.

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I’m aware of the increasingly monotonous tone of this blog, but I’m just too tired to do anything about it. “Health, health, growth, mundane activities, emoting.” Maybe after I find out what’s going on with my health, and once mini Gwinn starts preschool, I’ll be back on track. Until then, welcome to snoresville.

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The good news is the boys are cute and can distract from the text portion of this blog.

I hope you all are well and looking for the light at the end of the winter tunnel.


Valentine’s DIY Gift

Something happened to this post earlier today, sorry!

I’ll keep it short because I have three loads of laundry to fold and can barely keep my eyes open at the moment.

Captain Laser Pants is incredibly tough to shop for, even for faux holidays. He’s not a “typical” guy- clothes, beer, sports stuff- none of it captures his interest. His kids, though, do. So I made a photo collage for him to take to work. I snapped a ton of pictures of the boys, the dogs, and myself, wrote a message on the collage frame, and attached a pack of gummy worms. Voila, $15 gift with some serious love behind it. Here are some photo highlights.

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The message on the frame says: when I tell you I love you it is not of habit or to fill a conversation, but to remind you that you are the best thing in my life ever, my greatest adventure, my partner and heart, the reason I believe in soulmates.

Happy VDay, people!


Pinterest Exploded in my House

Making throw pillows.
DIY art decor.
Homemade granola.
Mississippi Mud.
Homemade teething biscuits.
Decorating around the “no headboard'” conundrum.

I think Pinterest exploded in my house. Realistically, DIY is cheaper than buying, but why did I think I have the time to finish any of these projects?

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Our guest room decoration

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Same problem in the master bedroom

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I painted canvas and hot glued my heart out

Anyway.

Mini Gwinn has been singing “Ice Ice Baby”, unbidden, for a few weeks. A few days ago he was washing his hands with Captain Laser Pants, told husband the water was too cold, then proceeded to sing, ” ice ice baby, too cold, too cold”. We may have a mortgage, but we try to insert fun I to adulthood by teaching our boys awesome rap. Next up is the Fresh Prince of Bel Air theme song.

2.0 is going to a pediatric allergist next week. We already have epipens for him in case of exposure, and I realize this is commonplace now, but my mom nerves are pretty frayed over this. He’s a baby. It’s scary to imagine all the foods he can be exposed to and have another anaphylactic reaction.

I’m seeing a doctor for (potential) hyperthyroidism. And also trying not to freak out about that. With all the symptoms I have, it’s better to be safe than have thyroid cancer. But personally I don’t see the problem with losing 16 pounds in eight weeks. Then again, my perception of this particular issue is skewed.

2.0 is starting to say “Dada” and “yeah yeah”, and some variation of the two. It’s absolutely adorable to hear him join conversations now, even if he does 100% overpower anyone else speaking because of his lack of volume control. His whistling is becoming even more intentional, and really, who doesn’t love a whistling baby?

We are working on a valentine’s gift for CLP that, if it turns out well, I’ll share. It involves tee shirts, pictures, and encouragement for days when we all feel less than best.

What do you do for Valentine’s day?


Week in Review

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No Lionel Ritchie Here

Yesterday my mom visited, and with the boys, we walked the dogs through the neighborhood. Mini Gwinn said something something “all night long” and I asked him if he was Lionel Ritchie.
“No, I’m not itchy.”
 


Haircuts are a Big Freaking Deal

I’m happy to report…

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This was taken Friday at Target.

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This was taken this afternoon in our guest room.

He finally let us cut his hair after eight months! CLP held him while I sawed through the thickest toddler hair ever. We cut over four inches on some parts, and the average length we removed was about three. I’m so happy to see his beautiful face again! The cut isn’t perfect, but I’ll clean it up this week.


Nine Months, Three Decades, and Will I Ever Sleep Again

It’s wild that January is almost over. Captain Laser Pants has a business trip to San Diego in a week and I am freaking out for a hundred reasons. I don’t want January 31st to come. One one hand I’m so proud of him for such a great career advancement, and on the other, I’m jealous and feel left in the dust. But that’s another post for another time.

Tomorrow 2.0 will be nine months old. He’s starting to wear 18 months clothing. He weighs over 21 lbs. He crawls, waves, shakes his head “no”, occasionally says ” hi”, and loves to walk with help from mom or dad. He still doesn’t sleep more than a few hours at once and my nerves are fried because of it. We’ve poured over baby sleep books, websites, tried advice and old wives tales, and nothing is “working”. We’ve even tried formula, which he dramatically coughs at and begins to scream like a banshee (no exaggerating here, he sounds like a demon from hell when he screams). It’s difficult not to compare kids, but mini Gwinn was delightful at this age (with a mane of glorious hair), sleeping 14 hours a night, talking, and never perpetually grouchy. Ugh. I just want him to be older, like, NOW. I haven’t even touched on the guilt I have for not being able to successfully divide my time and attention. It feels like mini Gwinn is getting the shaft, all the while still remaining a precious big brother and sweet little guy.

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I turned 30, quietly, a couple weeks ago (partially because ten people remembered, six of whom were family). CLP took a step in the right direction in that he accomplished the act of remembering the date, but that was the extent of celebration. My mom and dad visited and brought a delicious lemon blueberry cake, a scrapbook she made of my life, and a gift card. Rather than raising my expectations of him, I’m just doing things for myself. We talked about it, it’s passed, no point in being upset (I’m almost totally over it).

I saw a therapist for postpartum depression, but she was the female version of Harry Carey. I’ll have to keep looking, but that’s a step in the right direction, I suppose.

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Does anyone have any tips for cutting a three year old’s hair without traumatizing him?

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