Random cuteness

This blog entry isn't the chronicling of a milestone, a recanting of a funny story, or even specific to any particular event.
It's purely an opportunity to show off how the total and utter adorableness that is the Little Tanker.

Scott has been sick (yet again...it's like a broken record) for about 10 days, and feeling super lousy. But this weekend, he turned a corner, and thanks to some antibiotics and a lot of at home rest and care, he was acting like his happy self.

So we started snapping photos. Lots and lots of photos.

Here's a random assortment of Scott at his cutest.

Scott takes in the daily news.

First taste of pancakes and syrup!

I am a sticky mess. And I love it!

Don't be jealous. Ok, be jealous. Be very jealous. There's no way you are as cool as me.

Sporting Tigger and my first Hawaiian shirt.

Surfer dude, part deux.

Who does this Dominick kid think he is, anyway? This is MY book.

Mommy dressed me in a matching jumper and hat. Normally, I'd be happy about how cute I look, but I just woke up from a nap and I refuse to perform on demand.

Looking back ... first friends

My last blog post got me thinking about those blurry first weeks and months after we brought Scott home from the hospital, and I realized that no on-line journal about my sweet baby boy would be complete without mention of Freddie.

Freddie was Scott's first friend. His first buddy. His first confidante. Yes, our Little Tanker saved his first smile for mommy and daddy, but he reserved many that followed for Freddie.

Freddie's full-name is Freddie the Firefly. He's got a nubby rainbow-colored body, and crinkly-sounding black and white wings, rings and a little red plastic attachment that is perfect for our now-teething baby.

Scott and Freddie, 2 months

Scott and Freddie, 3 months

Scott and Freddie, 4 1/2 months

Scott and Freddie, almost 6 months

And Scott adores him. For a long time, he was the only toy that Scott would play with. He was the first toy Scott reached for and batted his little fingers at. Scott's repertoire of play items has grown substantially as he's become more aware of his surroundings, but Freddie is still very much in demand.

The little bug was such an integral part of Scott's early development that I made a video about their friendship while I was still on maternity leave. I watch it now and can't believe how tiny he looks!

Channeling Linus and his blanket

Scott has a new infatuation.

It goes by many names... lovie, snuggle buddy, security blanket.

I was first alerted to his desire to play with such an item by his teachers at daycare, who requested I bring in more of his soft burp clothes because he was becoming so attached to them at naptime.

Sure enough, I gave him one on the way home from "school" and he clutched it with both hands, falling fast asleep before I even hit the 51 freeway.

When I got back to the house, I remembered that Grandma Kathy had given him two snuggly blanket animals when she came to visit in January. They'd sat untouched for two months, with Scott paying scant attention to them.

But the second I handed him the super, super soft plush blanket with little teddy bear head, a new obsession was born. Now he lights up with a huge smile whenever we hand it to him.

The snuggle buddy has come in very handy this past week, as Scott has been teething, and has been very sick with bronchiolitis (a respiratory condition that is characterized by labored breathing and wheezing, caused by the RSV virus).

Both conditions have made for a VERY fussy baby.

But he curls up with the snuggle buddy at naptime and bedtime, and gnaws on the bear's head during the day.

Mr. Teddy Bear, your ears are perfect for soothing my sore gums.

It's actually kind of gross and drooly and full of germs at the moment. But Grandma Kathy was smart and thought ahead.

Being sick is no fun. But napping is better with my teddy bear snuggly.

We have "snuggle buddy #2" ready to go in the toybox. We're going to make a quick substitution this weekend and give "Snuggle buddy #1" a nice long bath in our washing machine.

I am standing in a super cool jumperoo, chewing on a soft blue bear, while daddy makes faces at me. My life rocks.

I'm a lucky girl

I've always enjoyed St. Patrick's Day. Yes, I get to claim a bit of Irish in my ancestry, but mostly, I liked the fact that it was a mid-week excuse to hang out with my friends and drink beer.

I have a good buddy in Fort Worth whose birthday falls on St. Paddy's Day and he was/still is doubly cool 'cause he worked at (and now owns) a bar. When I was young and single and unencumbered and living in Texas, we'd all head down to the Blarney Stone every Thursday night - and especially on St. Patrick's Day - to party with our co-workers and friends.

Being an Irish pub, the place was always jammed on March 17.

And by jammed I mean wall to wall people packed in so tight, I often wondered how the Fire Marshal was never called. It took 15 minutes to get a beer, and you had to rely on other patrons to pass it over their heads to the back of the bar where you were standing. It was smoky and loud.

And it was, at that time, fun.

When I first moved to Phoenix, my St. Paddy's Day celebrations became a bit more sedate. But I almost always went out, usually to Rosie McCaffrey's, where the party spilled outside into the streets of downtown, or Skeptical Chymist, where we listened to great music. I hung out with co-workers, or my cousins, had a beer or two and talked about the news of the day.

And it was fun.

My, how times have changed. This year, St. Patrick's Day almost passed me by. It registered long enough for me to make a point of dressing Scott in a green shirt before I dropped him off at daycare. But that's about it. I spent most of the day chasing the Governor across Phoenix from one event to the next.

At one point, I had a moment of remorse: I was driving by Tempe Diablo Stadium and saw the Chicago Cubbies were playing there for a Spring Training game.

The sun was shining, it was warm, and I thought, "Man, wouldn't it be nice to sit outside, watch some baseball and drink a green beer?" Or, at the very least, grab some corned beef or a Guinness at The Dubliner down the street later tonight?

But that's not my reality anymore. There was work to do and then it was time to race home so my husband and I could feed the baby, give him his bath and hopefully get him to bed before he had a complete meltdown.

It was enough to make me a bit grumpy.

But then I came home and saw it. There on the refrigerator. The most amazing Shamrock and incredible piece of artwork I have ever seen.

Scott's St. Patrick's day painting. Note the careful finger smears.

Scott made it at daycare. It is his first official art project. They gave him cold green paint and let him rub his hands all over the place, and put it all together with a picture of him creating his masterpiece.

My budding Picasso with his first showpiece.

A close-up of the artist at work.

So now, I sit. I am on my couch in my sweats, sharing a glass of wine with my husband. My son is sleeping in his room, despite his nasty cold, and I have the coolest memento of St. Paddy's Day 2011 taped to my fridge.

The completed Shamrock in its place of honor.

It's a different kind of celebration. And I am loving every minute of it.

My baby snores like an 80-year-old man

I should qualify that headline.
My baby snores like an 80-year-old man sometimes.

In the Tanker's defense, he has had a rotten cold and stuffed up nasal passages. But I wonder if this robust breathing tendency is heredity. After all, his father has been known, to -- on occasion -- exhale with gusto in his sleep.

The following video was taken by Scott's daddy during the little guy's regularly scheduled nap time. His snoring was so loud and pronounced that my husband could hear every little wheeze on the nursery monitor and decided it would be funny to get it on tape.


Makes me wonder if they make Infant-sized "Breathe Rights' and whether I should buy some.

Our favorite things

When I first found out I was expecting, I couldn't WAIT to register.
I spent literally hours online, scrolling through baby gear and reading reviews.

Items of interest generally fell into one of three categories:
a) absolute essentials
b) those things I thought would be fairly useful but could probably live without if needed
c) super cute stuff that served no function other than to make my son look even more adorable (as if that were possible.)

Now, six months in, I realize much of this was guesswork. There were many items I was sure would be critical in those early weeks/months that turned out to be completely useless.
We got dozens upon dozens of adorable baby outfits -- many of which Scott never wore because he was just too little. My mom had to go to the store and purchase preemie clothes for him, and all those cute onesies and jumpers went straight to the storage shed. I also stocked up on a nursing pillow, a very expensive breast pump and a slew of Dr. Brown's bottles, only to discover that I wasn't producing much milk and Scott much preferred the Playtex brand of bottle for his formula.

But there are those items that have turned out to be utter lifesavers. The "oh-my-God-I-would-never-have-made-it-this-long-were-it-not-for-xxx" items. In most cases, they've earned such a distinctive place of honor simply because they've kept Scott happy, quiet, and/or asleep.

This list of golden items, I've learned, is different for every parent, because every kid is different. But for us, it includes:

The portable bouncer/rocker chair.
Scott lived in this thing for the first two months of his young -- and what will surely be fruitful -- life. He didn't like sleeping in his bassinet, and he was too little for his crib, so we used the chair. We slept on the couch so he could rest undisturbed in it. The chair moved from room to room, it went with us to other people's houses...it got us through those first few sleep deprived weeks.
Scott won't sleep in it anymore, but he still loves sitting in it and playing with the toys. And anytime you can find something in "baby world" that last six months or more, you know its golden.

Almost every picture of Scott from his first months of life has this chair as a backdrop.

Hmm. A perfect place for a cat nap.

Months later and still enjoying the chair. We have to strap him in it now; otherwise he'd wriggle out.

Our Dr. Brown's Bottle Warmer.
I know, I know, a lot of people think its totally unnecessary. But Scott still isn't sleeping through the night with great regularity, and there's nothing better than knowing you can have a warm bottle of milk in less than four minutes -- especially if your kid wakes up hungry at 3 a..m.

The Baby Bjorn.
When Scott was tiny, he hit his fussy period without fail, every night around 5:30 or 6 p.m.. I couldn't rock him to sleep. I couldn't feed him. I couldn't walk with him and calm his down. But many a night, I put him in the Baby Bjorn and made a fool of myself grooving and rocking out to Dancing with the Stars, and for 20 or 30 precious minutes, I had a super content baby.

(Side note: I quickly discovered that Tank didn't much care for the waltz, but was a big fan of the Samba and the Cha-Cha. Jennifer Grey's routine to "Mercy" was DVR'd and replayed multiple times.)

Unfortunately, Scott weighs too much for me to carry him around in the Bjorn now, but Jim totes him all over the house and straps him to his chest while he does yard work. And Scott just chillaxes in it the whole time.

And that brings us to the biggie. It is our Holy Grail of baby items:

The Fisher Price Ocean Wonders Swing.

Literally, I wish this thing came in infant, toddler, and school-aged styles, because I know Scott is going to outgrow it soon, and I think the kid would seriously take it off to college if he could.

He naps in it, he plays in it, he catches an extra hour of sleep or two in the morning in it. He loves the rocking motion, the flashing lights and the moving crustaceans.

And we love that he loves it as much as he does.

Mommy, don't be jealous of my swing. Seriously, you guys should get one of these.

Fisher Price, if you make this swing in a bigger size, I will pay any amount of money for it. Really.

Discovering our hidden singing ... talent?

When Jim and I became parents, we also tapped into our inner songwriter.

Now, after six months, I can humbly say that we are accomplished balladeers. Turns out, we can sing about almost ANYTHING!

At first, I stuck to the classics.

I rocked Scott to sleep when he was just weeks old, singing softly as I held him. (Okay, I whispered, because I am completely tone deaf and didn't want to scar the kid for life.)

But it worked like a charm. He would curl up, look at me dreamily and doze off as I sang
Baby of Mine, Twinkle Twinkle Little Star and the Wheels on the Bus. All were favorites and on constant rotation.

But now that Scott is a bit older, he wants to be entertained. And we've quickly learned that making exaggerated faces while using a sing-songy voice yields huge smiles.

I first noticed it when I was prepping him for a bath. He'd be fussy because he was tired and it was close to bedtime. But as soon as I started singing, "It's Baaath-time! Baaath-time! Oh yeah, it's Baaath-time! We're gonna splash splash splash!" he broke out into the biggest grin, kicking and squealing and laughing.

So now we do it every night.

I expanded my vast musical repertoire in the past month when Scott got sick. Jim and I have to take these saline wipes (Boogie Wipes) to his nose several times a day to gently coax the gunk out.

Scott hates it and twists and turns. Unless, of course, we sing to him while we do it. "Boogie boogie boogie. I am going to get your boogie. We're going to get the boogie. Boogie Boogie Boo. "

Okay, so I am not lyricist. But it works for my son. And its apparently catching. I was getting ready for a doctor's appointment yesterday morning and heard Jim singing in the nursery. About the contents of our son's diaper.

Don't worry, I won't share details.

But suffice it to say: We can -- and will -- sing about anything. Those kids on American Idol ain't got nothing on us.

Seriously? You're singing again?

Six months old!

Half a year already.
Gulp.

Where did it go?

Scott has developed a smirk. I think he's hatching a plot against me.

It occurs to me that this means I need to start planning my son's first birthday pretty soon. That thought is, in itself, mind-blowing.

I could go on and on gushing about the cuteness of the Little Tanker, how he has the sweetest disposition - even while spending the better part of the last month sick with some form of bug or virus, how he is smart and funny and amazing and delightful. And yes, still exhausting.

(Total times we've slept through the night in the past 180 days = 4)

But I won't. The pics speak for themselves.

Here are this month's other winning shots...

(And special thanks to Daddy for making faces, tickling Scott's feet, speaking in crazy voices and using various other antics to get Scott to smile while mommy frantically snapped photos.)

Big boys take big boy baths

Scott is growing so fast. It's scary.

It seems that every day brings a new milestone - rolling over, sleeping through the night (sort of), sitting up without assistance for several seconds at a time without falling over...it's thrilling to watch our little Tank discover and delight in the world around him.

And yes, it makes me a little sad too. It's all happening so fast. But mostly, I am just enthralled by the little guy. He is happy and flourishing.

My son no longer needs to be rocked to sleep. He is starting to hold his bottle with his own two hands. He can entertain himself for 10-15 minutes at a time.

Being a big boy means constantly trying new things. And tonight was no exception. We moved Scott into the regular bathtub for the first time.

In truth, it was an overdue change and one borne out of necessity. Scott has simply outgrown his super adorable, but no longer functional Fisher Price whale bathtub. He discovered the art of splashing weeks ago, but in recent days has figured out that if he slams both legs down together, he can make a much bigger splash than if he moves them one at a time.

The result? The kid was literally flooding our kitchen. We had water on the glass windows, the ceiling, the countertop, our work clothes and the floor. Jim spent half the bath with his arms pinning Scott's legs down so he didn't create such a mess.

Scott in one of his first baths after he came home from the hospital. Plenty of room in the tub!

Scott last week. Room? Not so much for our Buddha Baby.

So mommy spent another $31 (every time I turn around I am plunking down $25 to $50 on something baby-related) on a bath chair for babies who aren't quite sitting up without assistance. We attached it to the tub and commenced with the nightly routine.

There was a learning curve on both sides - where do mommy and daddy sit? How do we appropriately wash the nooks and crannies with Scott sitting in this little chair? How do we keep him from sliding forward and squishing the ever important "boy parts" against the chair's support bar?

Scott was also a little confused at first. Where is my whale tub? How am I supposed to splash in this upright position? Where did all these bubbles come from? And why is mommy insisting on taking my picture - again?

But after a few minutes we all got the hang of it. With a little prompting from daddy, our little Buddha Baby realized he could still splash - albeit without the mess - and he seemed to really enjoy the toys on the bath chair.

I dig it. Big boys get lots more room to splash and play!

These things are new and fun!

Okay, I still love bathtime.

Another milestone off the checklist.