A New 'Do

My baby is a real boy.

Da Da took one look at Cutie Pie's wavy locks in his nine month pictures and said Cutie Pie is getting a hair cut. And he wasn't kidding. Before I knew what was going on, Da Da was checking the guard on his clippers and bribing Cutie Pie with Gerber Graduate lil' crunchies to keep him happy in his high chair.

I hid in the other room because I just couldn't stand to see the tears I knew would be coming. But, surprisingly Cutie Pie's haircut went fairly well. He was all smiles after a few reassuring kisses. He hardly noticed his missing hair. Even more surprising, I didn't cry one bit.

He looks like a real little boy now, without his little baby curls. I think his new 'do makes his teeth look bigger. How about you?

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Whine about Whining

I can handle teething, gas, cold and flu, but separation anxiety drives me nuts.

Cutie Pie is going through another stage. He must be touching Mommy, or Da Da, but preferably Mommy, at all times. This means I can't go anywhere or do anything in the house if he is awake. Want to clean up Cutie Pie's highchair after breakfast? Cutie Pie clings to my leg and whines until I pick him up. Cutie Pie actually prefers to help do dishes instead of playing with his toys. I've got to remember to tell Cutie Pie this interesting fact in say, ten years.

I've gotten very good at multitasking with Cutie Pie balanced on my hip. My only problem is when Cutie Pie decides he wants to touch a dirty pan in the sink or a boiling pot of water on the stove and he unexpectedly throws all his body weight to the side. So far I've been very lucky to catch him.

Cutie Pie used to like to practice walking and play with his toys. Now he just wants to be held most of the time. He also prefers to be walked around the house or danced with, thank you very much.

The most difficult aspect of Cutie Pie's fear is that he cries every time he realizes that I am not with him. This means that his naps do not last long and nights last forever. As long as I'm holding him, he sleeps. But when I put him down, he screams the second he wakes up. Poor Cutie Pie gets lonely sleeping in his crib. Never fear, Mommy is here!

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Let's Eat!

Yum Yum Yum! Cutie Pie loves to eat. He's making the transition from baby food to big boy food. Today he stole my sandwich right off the table. I'm not kidding. I put my plate in the middle of the coffee table thinking I could nibble on it in between building giant block towers for Cutie Pie to knock down. The next thing I knew, his little paws were pulling the bread up to his mouth. I laughed so loudly it made him jump. But it didn't slow him down from shoving the whole piece of bread into his mouth.

I think Cutie Pie might be part chipmunk. At mealtime, I hand him his little bite sized soft foods a few bites at a time. He puts them in his mouth and makes chewing motions. Everything appears normal. Next thing I know, he's coughing and choking, he opens his mouth and spits out a huge glob of food that he had been hoarding in his cheeks. Da Da is on to him. He started squeezing Cutie Pie's cheeks to make sure they were empty before dispensing Cutie Pie's next bite. That Da Da is so smart.

Meals have become adventures lately. Sometimes they are great. Sometimes they end in disaster. Cutie Pie is teaching us that he has difficulty eating chunky foods. No matter how thin the baby food is. If there is any type of solid mixed in, even if it's just rice, he will choke on it and make himself sick. Cutie Pie has been trying to teach us this lesson for several weeks now but Mommy has been very slow to catch on!

Sometimes, especially after a particularly horrifying coughing episode, I think that Cutie Pie is just not yet ready to eat big boy food. Then I go his school and see him eating chicken or green beans with no problem at all. Maybe Cutie Pie just chokes on MY food; already a critic.

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Big Baby

Cutie Pie is a big baby. No, really. He is huge. He weighed in at 10 lbs 6 oz when he was born and he hasn't stopped growing. He is nine months old and today he is wearing 24 month clothes! We go through clothes faster than we go through baby wipes!

I liked having a big baby when he was first born. Big babies just seem less fragile. The risk of SIDS decreases. It made him special. He was the enormous baby that people talked about with amazement in their voice. Everywhere I went, I heard "Oh! You're the one with the big baby! I can't believe he was so big!" Then I could say, with pride in my voice "Yes, he was very big. He is amazing."

So here he is at nine months old. He outgrew his infant carrier months ago. Trying to change his diaper is like wrestling a real bear. He is trying to walk and has taken as many as four steps at a time. His teachers at school said he walked across the room but I don't believe it. He wouldn't dare do something so momentous at school where Mommy and Daddy couldn't videotape him so it doesn't count. My Cutie Pie is trying to walk but just hasn't mastered it yet. This means that anywhere we go, he gets carried. Have I mentioned that my baby is HUGE?

My left arm is becoming ridiculously muscular. I'm starting to resemble one of those crabs with one big claw and one tiny one. My lopsided arms are the least of my problems. Cutie Pie is a typical nine month old. He doesn't stay still while you hold him. Cutie Pie loves to wriggle around, challenging whoever is holding him to a battle of wills and balance.

We practice walking every chance we get. I just can't wait to put him down. Just for a minute.

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Cutie Pie Bites

It's official, my child is a biter. Ever since he got his top teeth, he loves to bite everything he can put in his mouth. This includes Mommy's arms, face, fingers and just about anything he can get.

The mosquitos can get pretty bad in the summer so the other day, I was not surprised to find little red marks on my arm. I thought they were just mosquito bites but they didn't itch. They felt a little sore. Upon closer inspection, they were Cutie Pie Bites.

A few months ago, he started giving kisses. It was the sweetest thing when he'd wrap his little arms around my neck and put his open slobbery mouth on my cheek, covering my face with baby goo. When he gave me a kiss the other day, I thought nothing of it until "CHOMP!" his teeth closed in on my cheek.

He's still a little person and doesn't understand "No biting." His teacher at school told me to keep plenty of alternative teething rings nearby. She said that every time he bites someone, I should give him a teething toy to redirect his need to bite. Her instructions made perfect sense but have proven to be difficult to follow. When a child is biting you on the face and will not let go, you're just not thinking about where you left that darn teething ring. When you are trying to nurse your child to sleep and he bites you like he's sinking his teeth into a Big Mac, you don't care about any teething rings. When your arms are full of bags and you're trying to load up the car and you're worried about being late to an appointment and your little Vampire suddenly tries to suck the blood out of your arm, teething rings are the last thing you're going to think of. Just in case though, I've got an arsenal of teething rings hidden all over the house and the car.

I love my baby's new, shiny, little white teeth. I just wish Cutie Pie could keep them to himself.

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Taking It To A Whole New Level

I am taking this motherhood thing to a whole new level... of exhaustion. Cutie Pie hasn't slept through the night in two weeks. Every night while I stumble around in the dark with my wiggly little nine month old, I reach for that silver lining and think about how grateful I am for the opportunity to spend extra time with my Cutie Pie.

I used to be one of those people who needed nine hours of sleep each night to function. Heaven help the person who kept me from my sleep! When I'm tired, I fall behind on my work and the Neverending To-Do List spirals out of control. For the past week, in between midnight visits from Mr. Crankypants, I have been in grown-up-time-out in front of my desk full of paperwork.

It's amazing though. No matter how much sleep I lose, when Cutie Pie wakes up in the morning, I am right there with him. Somehow I manage to find this amazing mothering energy that keeps me up and moving all day. My husband says there must be some sort of caffeinated Mom Hormone that is released when I see Cutie Pie that allows me to chase my wild, crawling little Cutie Pie despite a lack of sleep. I don't know where I find the energy, but I'm glad to have it. Heaven help ME if I were to doze off, leaving him unsupervised.

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The Party is Over

"Ehh!" Cutie Pie rubs his eyes.

"Just try to keep him up another hour."

"Ehh! Ehh!" More eye rubbing.

Cutie Pie is giving us all the classic signs that he is exhausted. If we ignore him, he is sure to let us know his displeasure. He obviously needs to go to bed. The only problem is that this scene played out at a wedding, shortly after dinner was served. I never got to dance with my husband. I didn't even get to see the cake. My night was over. The boss said so.

Da Da and I had to leave our friends and family. While they celebrated, we slowly trudged back to our room with Cutie Pie. When people tell you having a baby is like being grounded 24/7, they aren't kidding.

Cutie Pie was asleep within minutes. The only high point of the evening was when Cutie Pie's Uncle took pity on us and delivered a slice of wedding cake.

I felt incredible guilt for leaving early with little Cutie Pie. I am one of those people who always stays to the end of the reception, sending off my loved ones in a shower of birdseed or rose petals or bubbles or whatever. I didn't want to be perceived as rude for leaving so early but I didn't want anyone to get upset with me for ruining the reception with my screaming baby. Cutie Pie didn't care if Mommy felt guilty, he was sleepy and making sure he got to bed was all that mattered. Being a responsible parent is no fun.

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Nine Months!?

Cutie Pie reached another milestone yesterday. He is nine months old. I don't know how it is possible to love him any more than I did on the day he was born but I do.

Da Da and I are reminded all the time just how lucky we are to have such an easy baby. I like to hold my Cutie Pie and think about how "easy" he is at one in the morning when I am sitting in the rocking chair, pretending to be patient and trying not to fall asleep.

Happy 9 months Cutie Pie!

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RV to the Rescue!

Last weekend, we traveled to a destination wedding in the beautiful mountains of North Carolina. As we prepared for our trip, Cutie Pie tried to sabotage our plans by developing yet another nasty cold. The night before we were set to leave on our marathon car ride, Cutie was stayed up coughing and crying. It soon became apparent that traveling was not in the cards.

At eight months of age it is not developmentally appropriate to take an eight hour car trip. Any parent who disagrees with me is crazy. That's right, I said it. Cutie Pie is an active little guy. He wants to be crawling and practicing his walking skills at every waking moment. He can hardly sit still to eat! We knew that trying to strap him in a car seat for a long period of time was going to be hell on wheels. When Cutie Pie added the illness to the equation, we decided the trip just wasn't meant to be.

Then Cutie Pie's Papa offered to let us use his RV for the trip. Sure gas would be expensive, but seeing our friend get married in the mountains would be priceless. Taking the RV was the perfect solution. Cutie Pie was able to interact with everyone during the trip, which meant he stayed entertained and happy, mostly.

Cutie Pie seemed to enjoy his first big road trip. It was really neat to watch him stare out at the mountains for the first time and play in the creek where I once played as a child. The wedding was great and the bride was beautiful. What a great weekend!

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All Done!

"Alright Cutie Pie are you ready to eat? "

"All Done!"

"What? You're all done?"

"All Done!"

"OK. If you say so." I put the spoon and bowl away.

"Aaah!" Cutie Pie reaches for the food. "All Done!"

I'm starting to think that Cutie Pie doesn't know what "All Done" means. We were so proud of him when he started signing. "All Done" isn't a real sign but the kids in our family are taught to put their arms in the air to express that they are through eating. It seemed like a good idea to me so we began teaching Cutie Pie this easy sign.

After just a few weeks, he seemed to show us his sign for "All Done" at the end of his meals. I was so proud when I told his Teachers at school about my super intelligent baby and I asked them to please reinforce his signing when he eats in the classroom. We really thought we were getting somewhere. But in the last few days, Cutie Pie has been signing "All Done" and saying "Ah Duh!" right away when he sits down to eat. Then when we stop feeding him, he gets upset! Oh well. At least he knows to say "All Done" at meals.

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Not so fast, Mommy!

Every now and then I feel a glimmer of hope that I just might be OK at this whole Mom thing. Just when I start to gain a little confidence and walk a little straighter, Cutie Pie says "Not so fast, Mommy!" BAM! He reminds me who is really in charge of our household.

This morning, Cutie Pie woke up earlier than usual. No worries. That just gave me more time to spend with him before school. He played while I got ready for work and I enjoyed playing peek a boo in between brushing my teeth and looking for my shoes. It was so easy, I felt like I had conquered motherhood.

In my blissfully confident state, I left Cutie Pie to play with his toys in the living room while I quickly ran to the other room to pack my files into my bag. I heard some banging but I figured he was just playing with his favorite stacking toys again. I walked back into the living room after leaving him alone for maybe thirty seconds. In that short time, he had made a bee-line for the dog bowls. In my unrealistic and downright cocky state, I had neglected to remove them from reach. Cutie Pie had poured water all over the kitchen and was in the process of sprinkling dog food into the puddle he had created. I grabbed the broom and swept up the soggy dog food while Cutie Pie splashed on the kitchen floor. When he saw me pick up the food in the dust pan, he cried like I had ruined his day.

Cutie Pie became Mr. Crankypants when I changed him into dry clothes and I realized that my early riser was already in need of a nap. He fell asleep five minutes before it was time to walk out the door. I decided it was better to be a little late than to awaken the Master of the House so I let him rest for a bit while I enjoyed the great luxury of packing the car in peace.

Just when I thought I was getting control over my life again, Cutie Pie let me know who's boss.

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