"Because that's what we should all do- graduate college just to start popping out some kids."

That's what the girl across the room in my American Literature class said as her and another peer sat gossiping about me as I showed a friend the ultrasound pictures when I found out my firstborn was a boy.

I stared across the room, not sure what to do. She never looked my way, and after a few seconds of an internal battle, I let it go. It wasn't worth it, I told myself, to justify my choices and my growing family. It wasn't her business.

But the words still sting and haunt me. There have been times where I've wanted to go back and say something to her. It wouldn't matter if she really heard me or not- I just wanted the words out there.

When I was 21, my husband and I found out we were expecting our first child. In the second semester of my senior year of college, and my husband planning to finish school somewhere else once I graduated, we weren't planning to start our family. The surprise came in the form of two pink lines, though I swore that I only saw one to begin with.

20 weeks pregnant

It wasn't the plan. We were too young. We weren't ready. We were about to be broke and I was supposed to find a full time job and he was suppose to finish school and...now everything would be different.

The talks we had when planning kids had a very "traditional" ring to them. I would stay home and my husband would work full time. It's what we both wanted. I told him before we eloped at the age of 18 that the thing I wanted to do most was be a mom, and he heard me. He said he wanted that to be a possibility.

This was not the plan, or so I thought.

The idea of telling family and friends, for some reason, made me feel shameful. We were young and not in a place, in public and personal opinion, to have kids. So to have a complete stranger say something I had dreaded hearing, it burned me deep inside.

However, if I could go back to all the negative looks and comments that strangers, and even family and friends had to say, I would tell them one thing:

I want this baby.

Maybe my son wasn't born at an ideal time, but I prayed for him. Maybe my son was born when I wasn't ready to be a mother, but I became a mother for him. Maybe we didn't plan him, but God did. Maybe we were terrified, but we never thought of being selfish and seeking "other options" for a second.


My husband and I knew that once we were married, the result of us coming together as husband and wife could be a child. We knew, and we said that if anything were to happen that might not be "planned"- it would be our new plan. There was no room for negotiation. Sex leads to life, and if we weren't aware and at least mentally prepared for that possibility, we wouldn't have been doing it.

Life begins in the womb. That baby has a heartbeat, a measurement, organs-- that baby is life.

Before I formed you in the womb I knew you, before you were born I set you apart. Jeremiah 1:5 (NIV)

Today, we have two beautiful boys and another baby on the way. I can't imagine my life any differently than what it is now.

I want this baby.

It didn't matter if I'd been married for ten years or one. It didn't matter if I was scared or overwhelmed or feeling unprepared. Nothing mattered other than the life my husband and I had come together to create.

I wanted that baby.



March for Life

It's hard to believe we are closer to Levi being ONE than we are to him being a newborn. After passing the halfway mark, or even before, I was amazed with how quickly Levi progressed. Perhaps it's because he has a big brother to watch, but this kid just wants to GO.

He went from crawling/flopping like a seal at five months to quickly getting up on his hands and knees. As soon as he conquered that, he quickly started pulling up, sitting up, and cruising furniture. It's hard to keep track, truly, of everything he CAN do right now.


The biggest change, I think, is he's practicing his balance. I'll watch and he lets go of a toy, or the couch, or a shoulder and tests his two feet before quickly grabbing hold again. It's over in a flash, but when I look at him-- I know he's super excited, proud... and ready.

And I am SO not.

As if moving and testing his balance wasn't enough, Levi very clearly says, "Dada" ... all the time. The only time he spits out, "Mama" is when he's near exhaustion or upset and can't see me (though I, of course, see him). We're also 80% he's calling Michael, "Baba" for brother and associating "nana" with banana. He'll also rub his hands together for "more" and likes to wave his hands in the air to a song he enjoys.

Although Levi is moving and grooving faster than Michael did, he's a little peanut by comparison. Coming in four pounds lighter than Michael at this age, Levi is 15lbs 6oz and 25.75 inches long. His gums are also swollen on the top and the bottom in top... so we'll see which teeth win the race. (Michael's top two came in first.)


When it comes to food, Levi isn't exactly picky. Unless you try to spoon feed him-- then he doesn't trust it. But anything that's on our plates, or seems to be "real" food... he'll eat it.

Peas? Check! Green beans? Check! Apples? Bananas? Sweet Potatoes? Avocado? Check, check, check, check!

Oatmeal? Baby food? WHAT IS THAT STUFF?

So when I had a fleeting moment and grabbed a thing of baby puffs at Target, he was SO excited because they pretty much look like brother's goldfish crackers.

Now that we're trying to make a change (again) with our eating habits, I'm trying to steer away from the baby puffs and make things at home (that goes for the goldfish, too). Luckily, I found THIS recipe and molded it a little to make something that is Levi approved.

HOMEMADE BANANA-SWEET POTATO [BABY] PUFFS


Ingredients:

- 2 medium baked potatoes
- 2 bananas
- 1 C flour
- 3 tbsp oil (I used coconut)
- 3 tbsp water (or formula or breastmilk or another milk if your baby is older)
- Cinnamon to taste (optional)

Directions:

- Bake your sweet potatoes at 350 for 45 minutes or so, and if your bananas aren't SUPER ripe you can bake them for about 20 minutes to soften them and strengthen the flavor.
- After your bananas and sweet potatoes have cooled, put them and all your other ingredients in a food processor or blender.
- Prep a cookie sheet with wax paper or cooking spray. Next you can do one of two things:

1. Use a piping bag or ziplock bag with the tip cut off to make little circular "puffs." I found this to be a little difficult, since the batter is pretty runny.

2. Spread all of your batter on the cooking sheet so it's not TOO thick but you can't see the cookie sheet through it.

- Bake for 12-15 minutes for #1 and 15-20 minutes for #2. Check to make sure the edges aren't burned/too dark.
- If you go with option #2, next you can use a small cookie cutter to cut the puffs into desire shape. I used stars!

Serve and see your baby's happy face.

I'm not sure how we got here so quickly!

Levi was two months old on August 8th. He is now 10lbs 13oz (he gained two pounds in a month!) and 22.5 inches long (he grew an inch in a month!). He is completely obsessed with his hands, his play mat, and his big brother. A sound sleeper, he'll be completely zonked but if Michael says anything above a normal volume level, Levi's eyes will flutter and he'll look for his big brother. It's absolutely adorable. He loves to "talk", smile, and drool as much as he can.

When we had to go anywhere in the car it used to be stressful, but these days Levi has been sleeping nicely when we drive (Praise the Lord!). His crying has a slow progression from frustrated to angry, and it's not always slow. Overall he's a patient fellow... unless he wants to be held or is hungry (aren't all babies like this?).

And, what hasn't changed? His favorite thing is to be held and cuddled in the sling. If he could spend all day in someone's my arms, he would.

Little Levi was born on June 8th, and since then has been nothing but joy. While it feels like it's just been a few days, we had to take him in for his one-month check up. Little man has grown two inches (now 21.5), put on a pound (plus more if you can't weight lost in the hospital: now 8lbs, 13oz), and is on track developmentally. He smiled for the first time on July 4th which was way too exciting, and is now starting to really take in the world around him. He absolutely loves his big brother Michael, who returns the affection. Michael cannot walk by his baby brother without giving him a kiss, and is worried if he's in the swing or sling for too long. He will also try to sing to Levi if he's screaming crying in the car, which melts my heart like you would not believe. And though Levi still prefers being held over being put down, we don't mind one bit taking turns cuddling him.

Whenever I think of women going into labor, I think of FATHER OF FHE BRIDE II.

Have you seen that movie? If not, it's classic.

The younger pregnant woman is always saying it's time to go to the hospital, and of course her false alarms are in the middle of the night and have everyone jumping up like, "THE BRITISH ARE COMING!" only to show her returning in the morning because it was just gas, or not real contractions.

This is what I think of. I don't think of my first labor, which was like the typical fairy-tale pregnancy story of, "oh, my water broke."

With my second pregnancy I was seriously praying and hoping it would be like my first when it came time for labor... but I had a feeling it wouldn't be. Because, like everyone says, every labor is different.

But I was petrified of false alarms.

Why?

Maybe because I don't like to be embarrassed or wrong (did I just put that in writing?).

Or maybe because I thought that since I wasn't a first time mom, there was no excuse.

So when I started having what I thought were real contractions (did I mention I got drugged almost right away after my water broke the first time?) and my husband was away for work, I started to panic.

"If this is the real thing, I need to tell him to start driving because he's two hours away. But if I'm wrong, what then?"

I told him to come home. And when he was about fifteen minutes from our house, the contractions ceased.

But then the following morning, the contractions were there again. I mean, I wasn't doubled over in pain, but I had this idea in my head that I have a high pain tolerance.

I timed them, called the doc, and was told to head to the hospital. So, we did. But when I was checked, I was only 2cm...and according to them, I wasn't really having any contractions. After an hour of walking around the birthing floor, and the "contractions" stopping again, we were sent home.

False alarm #1.
Then the next night, the contractions were stronger and came in full force quickly. My mom said she could tell something was different, and she thought we should go to the hospital straight away. Well, I wanted to wait. We walked around the block a few times, I laid down on the couch... and still the contractions didn't go away. However, they weren't timing consistently. They'd range from 2 to 7 minutes apart... and I was so confused. But, under my mom's advice, we went in.

We went through the same routine as we did the first time at the hospital, and I was still only 2cm.


False alarm #2.
Now I was afraid. And embarrassed.

I was afraid of being wrong again, and embarrassed that this was my second pregnancy and yet I had gone to the hospital not once... but twice and been sent home.

I was determined that I wouldn't go in again unless my water broke, as it had with Michael. I was not going to risk being sent home again and alerting the masses of my inability to recognize true labor.

So, I waited.

I had my 39 week appointment and my doctor talked about what would happen if I was still pregnant in a week. She checked me and told me I was further along than I had been (between 2-3 cm), but to expect some cramping and contractions because she checked me.

I went home, and that night when the pain started I assumed that it was just false labor again.

So, I waited.

But the pain wasn't going away, and it started getting worse. It was to the point I was getting angry at everyone. I just wanted to lie down, go to bed...make it stop.

But it wouldn't. I started timing them.

This time my husband thought it was the real deal because of how I was acting, as did everyone else. My poor three-year-old was so worried because of the way I was acting, but we assured him that this time when he went to sleep, he'd wake up a big brother.

After an hour of contractions at home, we went to the hospital. I was 7-8cm, and they admitted me right away. It wasn't long before my water broke, and instead of getting the drugs I thought I had wanted, I demanded it was time to push.

My contractions started around 9pm. We left for the hospital around 10:15pm. Levi was born at 11:41pm. He didn't even make it to midnight. By that point, he was ready.

Levi James: 7 lbs, 13 oz; 19.5 inches
And oh, so were we.

" A portrait of my child, once a week, every week in 2014. "
This week we had our first pool day, which just happened to fall on the first day of spring. Right now we haven't made any local friends with kids his age, but he gets along beautifully with little Grant. We had such a wonderful afternoon with friends, something we had clearly been lacking. It was truly a God-send when I was linked up with Jacquie for the first Cara Box I did through Wifessionals.

Part of Practising Simplicity's 52 Project.

I love TBT on Instagram. Perhaps because I get a chance to go back through archives of endless pictures and pick one to share that people may not have seen. On Facebook, however, I saw a friend say, "If you didn't get the pictures developed at Walmart, I'm not sure I'm ok with #tbt."

Perhaps a valid point, perhaps not. I feel like it completely depends. I mean, why should all my throw backs have to be when I was 18 and younger? I feel like even the tiniest throw back with Michael can make me tear up, or thinking about marriage before the baby, or when Clark and I were dating... the back-tracking continues.

Anyway, since I have such a love for it-- I thought I'd start sharing on here!


This is Michael last June during one of his first real romps in the grass, wearing one of Dada's old hats (backwards, of course)!

What's your opinion of #tbt? Share a link if you have one on your site!

Yesterday I spent a good chunk of time just browsing at past blog posts. I realize that lately I haven't exactly been posting regularly. On the contrary, I have found myself avoiding blogging. Why? I asked myself that same question.

I've realized that in the past year or so I was getting caught up. Caught up in the idea that I had to "be the best". Take amazing pictures for everyone to envy. Post amazing recipes for everyone to try and cook. Share amazing stories/devotionals/ideas for everyone to find inspiring. I got caught up in trying to be the super-amazing-mommy-wife-blogger.

I mean, I jumped from having 66 total posts in 2011 to having 212 in 2012. I started really getting a feel for our SLR camera. I started thinking about things like blog posts, and immediately wanting to blog whenever we finished hanging out as a family or I finished cooking or whatever. I was always thinking about the blog.

Then I hit a rough patch. I was so excited for my "25 Days of Christmas" idea, and it ended up pretty much being a sinking ship. I felt so much pressure to get a blog post up every day that my pictures were mediocre, some of my grammar atrocious, the the giveaways I had lined up barely had any entries. I was devastated. I mean, I really thought my blog was growing, and then it turned out I really could only count on my friends/family to make it look good when everyone could so clearly see it was drowning.

As 2013 started, I was pretty close to just letting my blog go. Let it slowly die out. Post every now and then when I was excited to share and if there was any new interest shown, but ultimately I was just going to let time run out.

I know, melodramatic. But I got so caught up in the fact that my blog wasn't "perfect". That all these women were making their lives look so wonderful and picture-perfect and I just couldn't keep up.

I told this to a friend, who said my blog was refreshing because it seemed real compared to so many others out there. But I honestly wasn't convinced. If mine's so refreshing, how come I only have 59 followers? When I told another friend about my struggle, and said I may try to simplify, she suggested I find a focus and run with it. I know this is because my blog can be all over the place.

Moving forward...

The past three months of this new year that I proclaimed was going to be "the year", have kind of sucked. Excuse the expression but I find no other way of saying it. I have been struggling more with my eating habits, losing my temper at tiny things, and letting my house go to the point that I'm pretty sure Michael and I got sick from the overwhelming amounts of dog hair, dust, and who knows what else. I haven't been depressed, per say, but I certainly haven't been in the best of places.

What does this have to do with blogging? Let me tell you.

I missed it.

I missed blogging and yet the pressure I was putting on myself for my blog to be perfect was keeping me from it. You may recall the post I did last year about the Super-SAHM. You know, that every stay-at-home-mom these days has to be this all-powerful person and do everything wonderfully and organically and gosh forbid if you use disposable diapers or don't make your own baby food. YES, I am one of those mothers. I made a huge deal about making my own baby food, and love our cloth diapers. BUT I don't think mothers who don't do that are any less of mothers.

A woman in my Bible study who I look up to so much said that she's found that all mothers need to start building each other up as mothers rather than pointing out each others' flaws.

Just because a mom doesn't eat organically, or just because she uses disposable diapers, or just because she makes brownies from a box, or just because she works full time doesn't make her ANY LESS OF A MOTHER. It makes her human. Moms have the hardest jobs of all, and to constantly put each other down or try to out do the other just to appear to be the "better mom" only hurts us-- the women.

Why would we want to do that to each other? Doesn't the world put us down enough in one way or another? Shouldn't we be supporting each other?

What does this have to do with blogging? Let me tell you.

I was letting other women get to me.

Women who I don't even know, who haven't ever said a negative to me or in my general direction, were making me feel inferior. These women who can have family outings and take gorgeous pictures were making me feel self conscious. These women who lost their baby weight in a heart beat and don't struggle with food choices were making me feel like I wanted to eat everything in sight. These women who have kids who are already potty trained (and are Michael's age) or who do constant crafts with their children were making me feel like a failure. These women who work, buy organic foods, have bigger houses, have nicer furniture, have their children in their own beds, are constantly taking outings with friends and family-- were making me feel naive and inadequate, even though I don't know them at all.

All of this was keeping me from blogging. Suddenly I was aware of my mediocre pictures from a point and shoot camera (since our SLR was stolen in November). Suddenly I was aware that I haven't been making the best food choices for me or Michael. Suddenly I was aware that maybe my child already watches too much TV. Suddenly I was aware that I wasn't up to par with all these other women.

And now, I'm aware that it doesn't matter.

I am who I am as a mom. I need to stop holding myself to all these "blogger standards" that may not even really be there and blog because I enjoy it, and blog for those that enjoy what I do. The internet is vast and never ending, so it seems, and the fact that I'm letting all the ridiculousness of the world get to me is, well, ridiculous. We blogging mothers (and mothers/women in general) need to stick together and support one another, no matter our circumstances.

So, whether you're an outstanding photographer or just sport a point-and-shoot, whether you use disposable or cloth diapers, whether you make your own baby food or buy it in the store... you get the idea... I am behind you.

You are awesome.

Remember that.

For more ideas on being an "imperfect mom" check out Jillsavage.org!

Lack of a camera for part of this stage made it extra difficult, so excuse all the low-quality phone pictures.

This has been such an awesome phase. Seriously. Michael is SO much fun... and SO exhausting. He wants to know what everything is, where everything is, how everything is done... you get the idea. He wants to know everything.

Michael can now say the word "out". We have to be careful how we use it, because he associates "out" with "outside".


While we still love to swing, we have a new fondness for our local playground's slide. It took him a couple times to get comfortable going down it without Mama, but we finally conquered it and can't get enough.

However, our FAVORITE thing to do outside is to play "football". Since Michael doesn't actually have a football, this is done with his plastic baseball... but he doesn't seem to mind.

Luna loves when we do this, too. She'll chase Michael around but never gets too rough with him. Michael has also discovered that if he runs up and grabs my legs, I will promptly fall over. (This is him "tackling" me.)

Along with "out" we now say:

- "Up!" This was a fun one the other morning at 5am. He started "gently patting" my face saying, "Up! Up! Up!" Don't worry, buddy. Mama got the message.

- "Bop." In Michael language, this is bath. He likes to take about two a day, and I don't mind one bit. They help relax him, entertain him, and keep him clean. He loves to splash, find his belly button, put his face in the water ever so quickly, and pour water over his head with whatever sort of cup he can find.

- "Hot!" This can be used to describe bath water, the Christmas tree lights, the heat (he'll stand over a vent and say it), the stove (yay for knowing not to touch it!), and whenever Mama lights a candle. He gets so excited. He practiced the "huh" sound for at least a couple of weeks before finally putting the word together. Way too adorable.

- "Nana," which means banana, of course.

- "Ap-pull"... yes, he does sound it out like that.

- A version of "doggy".

- A version of "All Done!"

We are currently working on the "m" sound for "moon" and "moo" (thanks to Goodnight Moon and Click Clack Moo, Cows that Type) and the "cuh" sound for "cow" and "kitty" (I'm assuming, that is).

He also "honks" for a duck, sniffs his nose for a dog, and hums for a cat's meow.

In sign language he still does "more", thought not as frequently as he used to. He also now does "thank you". I'm not sure if he quite understands, but the fact that he recognizes to do it when I ask him to means that *hopefully* he'll start to.

We can recognize elephants, doggies, kitties, zebras (yeah... I know), bears, moons, flowers, trees, leaves, cows, ducks... a lot of animals.

Oh! The most fun thing right now? Asking him:

"Michael, where's your nose?" (He'll make a sniffing noise and cover his nose.)

"Michael, where's your ear? Where's your other ear?"

"Michael, where's your eye? Where's your other eye?"

"Michael, where is your mouth?"

OK... you get the idea. He can also recognize hair and head (there is a distinction-- he'll pull his hair and pat his forehead), his arm, his legs, his hand. We're still working on feet, fingers, and toes. He will also find mama's teeth... he hasn't quite pointed his own out yet.

Yes, we're teething again. I believe he has at least three molars coming in... bringing our teeth-total to about nine at the moment. This has completely disrupted our sleep. Last night was the first night he went to bed after 7pm. It had been anywhere between six and seven before that.

Want to know what time we got up yesterday morning?

Before 4:30.

Yep. You read that right.

That was the earliest. Before that it was usually between five and six. Needless to say Mama has been taken naps a lot, too, these days.

I don't even want to talk about food. Michael has suddenly become a picky eater. All he wants is applesauce, cheese, fruit, yogurt... did I mention cheese? I have had to find some pretty creative ways to hide cheese in the fridge so he can't find it.

A couple nights ago I made homemade chicken nuggets (see recipe here) and green beans (which he loved at Thanksgiving).

No. Luck. The boy just wanted some cheese and grapes.

If you have any suggestions, I'm all ears. I'm thinking of making some invisible-veggie-muffins soon to get them in him. Anything green? It's squished (no more peas). Corn or carrots? He'll put it in his mouth, only to make a face and spit it right back out.

Oh, boy.

We do, however, still like hummus.

Thanksgiving this year was a bit overwhelming. Last year he pretty much just slept through. This year? Well... there were A LOT of people. Poor thing would warm up to one group only to have another filter in. He's very social, so he'd entertain... but after a while all he wanted was Mama. About four days in to our seven day trip he was ready to go home, and I couldn't blame him. He was SO overwhelmed.


Yes, that is his hand down my shirt. It's his "happy place" as Clark calls it. He has yet to attach himself to any of the loveys I try to throw at him, so in times of stress he attempts to get in to my shirt. Lovely, right? I don't mind so much when it's just us... but when we're out I have to admit I get a little embarrassed, especially since family and friends always like to point it out and laugh.

Christmas time is bringing out a whole new spirit in Michael. He LOVES our Christmas tree. (And helping Dada water it.)

Every morning we'll roll out of bed and he runs into the other room and waits for the lights to be turned on.

Way. Too. Adorable.

He also has a new obsession with Santa, which is funny since he didn't exactly warm up to the guy when he met him....

Thanks to Marmee and Papa, though, we are learning about the TRUE reason for the season. We got a beautiful Advent calendar as well as a new Veggie Tales video and The Donut Man (which mama, admittedly, squealed over).

When all else fails, we spend time turning the lights on and off, on and off. He's working on those words, too. According to Dr. Sears, if you let babies indulge in this they're less likely to be afraid of the dark because they know they can have the power to turn the light on and off... so when it's dark, they know it will come back. I don't know if this is proven, but I like the idea, so I don't mind standing next to a light switch saying, "On, off, on, off," over and over and over and over and over and over (you get the idea) and over again.

As you can see, there's a lot going on. I feel like I could continue to gush over my adorable child, but I imagine some of you have probably already stopped reading because we all know that every mother just wants to tell you all about her children.

Now I totally get it.

I was going to stop these posts, but a really close friend told me they're actually her favorite. Ummmm... if you love reading about my kid so much, I'm going to indulge you!

Don't forget to check out the Atkinson Drive and Exquisite Crafts giveaways! Only TWO MORE DAYS to enter!

And just to make you smile....

Yep. I'm doing it again. I can't help myself. I mean... look at him!


So, our favorite thing is still to play outside.


But he has discovered getting into the kitchen cabinets, now that he's actually allowed in the kitchen.
The room becomes off limits if he goes for anything like the cat food or the water bowl. He seems to get it, though, and just sticks to trying to pull out all the pots and pans. He also loves to get into the refrigerator, especially now that he knows he can open it himself if he gives it a couple good tugs.
(Sorry for the quality. I have an old Android phone, not a handy-dandy iPhone.)

Does anyone know if they sell locks for the fridge? I would think Michael's not the only one who likes to get in there and attempt to get himself a snack.

It seems Michael is shooting up like a weed. Around his birthday he could still fit in 12 months clothes (go figure), but these days he's styling 18 months. He can still get into 12 to 18 months, and some 12 months shirts... but he's just getting so tall! Of course he's got the adorable baby belly, but that's probably from his amazing eating habits!

And we used to be worried. Michael's favorite things these days are:

1. Bananas
2. Greek Yogurt (shared with Mama)
3. Cheese
4. Frozen Berries (to help with the teething)

Anything else is a day-to-day sort of thing. One day he'll love tuna, the next day he doesn't want it. One day he'll eat a whole grilled cheese, the next day he just wants the cheese, hold the bread. Tonight I "spoiled" him with a Gerber dinner which he absolutely loved. BBQ Turkey, anyone?

Oh, and the peas phase? Yeah. It was just that. A phase. He's now squishing them like a normal baby. Veggies are more of a "miss" these days. He'll eat corn. Other than that, it has to be hidden. Like in Plum Organics squeezables or something. He LOVES those. We call them "smoothies".

Music is our thing. Michael has this lovely new thing that he does. It's called dancing. He stomps his feet or bends his knees and "bounces". It's positively adorable. It used to just be head-bobbing, but we've added actual moves to the agenda. I love playing music while I'm cleaning or we're just hanging out, because every now and then he'll just break into his dance. It makes my heart melt. The other day he even pulled out my flute. So I played for him, and then he clapped. Talk about motivation to start playing music again.

We're still teething.

(Note: I keep saying "we", because as you know everything Michael goes through, I go through as well. Sorry if it's annoying or confusing.)

Michael has four teeth working their way in up top. I can see one already that has officially broken through (along with the four he already has), but he's definitely feeling it. YAY for frozen berries! His favorite is the banana/peach/strawberry mix. He just gums them until he can eat them. Make sure if you give them to your baby, you observe/watch/monitor, though. Choking is possible (as it is with everything, I suppose).

As much as I say I want to "crib train" Michael, I can't bring myself to do it. I absolutely love my little cuddle-bug. I mean, who wouldn't love to sleep next to this?

In other news, Michael has discovered throwing tantrums. Any suggestions on how to put your one-year-old in time out somehow? I'm all ears!

I swore I would never be one of those moms that refers to her kid as any months over one year. I mean, what's the point? Why can't you say he turned one in September, rather than saying he's 13 months in October? Hmmm??

Well, I've failed. Because now all I want to do is tell you all about Michael's developments. Titling a post "One Year and One Month" isn't half as easy as "13 Months". Please forgive me.

Michael is a walking machine. Basically, he never wants to do ANYTHING but walk. Maybe crawl every now and then, but ride in his car seat? Or ride in his stoller? Forget it. He'd rather be walking. He also loves to take mama or dada by hand and lead them precisely where he wants to go. While he has excellent balance, he's still working on refining his steps.

He doesn't just want to walk, either, though. He wants to run. More specifically, he wants to run outside. He loves getting out there with his John Deere tractor and just going. Perhaps it's because the tractor has less resistance than his other walking toy does. It just GOES. I mean, it would roll down our sidewalk by itself if Michael let it. So, he loves to hold on and just go. It gives me slight heart attacks every time, because there are so many bumps in our sidewalk I have visions in my head of him just lurching forward. Needless to say I'm usually running right behind him with arms outstretched ready to prevent any harm I can. Luna, bless her, is always in front of him attempting to corral him. Sadly, it doesn't work very well. He finds ways around her.

Baby boy has suddenly become a picky eater. The only thing that he's guaranteed to eat is cheese and anything that involves it. For example, grilled cheese, cheese quesadillas, cheese slices, mini Babybel cheese, shredded cheese... I think you get my point. It doesn't matter what I offer him, he will not even consider it unless there's cheese involved. But, we are persevering! This cheese addiction does not keep me from attempting to offer him new and exciting things. Just today we tried a turkey wrap. I even put some American cheese on it to tempt him. Sadly, no luck. He decided Luna would enjoy it much more. He has, however, been approving of my fall recipes. I suppose that's because most of them involve sugar and spices like cinnamon.

Oh. One thing that Michael LOVES to eat (along with cheese, of course): peas. I offer him peas and carrots, he eats the peas. I offer him peas and grapes, he eats the peas. My silly boy loves the veggie that many abhor. I suppose that's a good thing!

Whenever he is fed something he actually enjoys, he shakes his head no at Luna when she comes begging. As in, "No, doggy, this food is MINE!" It's too funny.

Along with picky eating came his new-found attitude. While he's still an incredibly happy-go-lucky-laid-back-sort of fellow, he has moments where he decides that whatever you're doing is not what you're supposed to be doing. Take, for instance, this picture.
His pacifier had fallen into the wet grass, and he held it up making a sound that seemed to me like he was saying, "Um, excuse me, clean this off. I want it. NOW."

We're attempting to teach him "please" and "thank you" signs to make us feel like he has better manners. They would be much preferred to the sign, "More," which he knows now and uses for everything.

"More" swinging. "More" cheese. "More" time outside. "More" juice. "More" reading. "More" EVERYTHING!

While before it seemed Michael was perfectly aware when Clark was away and when he returned, he has been more apt to cling to Dada these days. As in, if Clark looks like he's getting ready to go anywhere, be it take out the trash, go to the bathroom, or actually go to work, Michael goes for his legs and will not let go no matter how hard we try to coax him away. It's positively adorable and heart breaking all at the same time. So, needless to say, whenever Dada is home, there's some serious father-son-loving going on.

As you can probably guess, we are still co-sleeping and BF. Clark declared he'd be OK with Michael sleeping with us until his next birthday, but I have a feeling we're going to try (again) to move him to his own space before then (hopefully). Right now his sleep schedule is so fickle that I've given up trying to get him in his crib. Maybe if he actually develops a semi-regular nap schedule, we'll go from there. Until then, though, I'm very content to have him share our space, and so thankful Clark is, too.

Around Michael's first birthday, he started getting fussy. He wouldn't nap, he wouldn't eat as much, he was just rather... well... fussy.

If you know Michael, that's pretty atypical. He is so laid back and happy 90% of the time. Not to mention, he loves just about anything you put in front of him to eat. We related it to stress, though. We were preparing for family to visit, and then family arrived and it was busy. Everything was all over the place for a little while.

Then he started tugging on his ears. This, however, is not just a sign of an infection or something like that. He had been doing this for a while, after all, because he was teething. Sometimes babies can confuse the pain in their mouths and think it's coming from their ears, so we didn't really pay any mind to it. He had teeth coming in on the bottom, so we related it all to teething.

Then, about two weeks ago now, we had two days that contained absolute fits. I mean, he came home from preschool and he cried, and cried, and cried. The Thursday after his birthday he cried for about twenty minutes straight and nothing would comfort him. I was an absolute wreck. He finally calmed down enough to nurse and go to sleep.

The next day, Friday, was different. He was screaming. He wouldn't nurse, he would go outside and be comforted, nothing. Truly nothing would help. I called the doctor, and the nurse who answered the phone told me the next appointment wasn't until 4pm (this was around one). But then she heard him crying, and told me to bring him in as soon as I could.

As soon as we got to the doctor's office, he stopped crying. He walked around, played, acted like nothing was wrong. Then, when we took him in, he started crying again. When the doctor went for his ear, he started screaming.

When we first arrived at the office I was panicked. I didn't want to be one of those moms.

You know, the ones that everyone dreads becoming. A mom who brings her child into the doctor's office for every little thing. So much that when there is something wrong, the doctor is liable to miss it because that baby has been in so many times. Kind of like the boy who cried wolf, but the mom who cried sickness.

Well, lo and behold there was something wrong. To my horror, he had an ear infection. I kept wondering if he had it for a while and I kept missing it, and then it got to the awful point that he couldn't stand the pain anymore. Of course, there's no way to tell now.

The doctor said that after having a cold, babies are more prone to ear infections (see The First Cold to know that story). He was giving us the signs, we just kept relating them to teething. Michael didn't have a fever, so I kept thinking that there weren't any infections or anything.

I had brought him in a few months earlier thinking he had an infection because he kept pulling on his ears, and all it was was him discovering his ears (and some gum pain, most likely).

This was one of the times where I learned better to be safe than sorry. I have to admit I got a little annoyed at the doctor because he kept checking certain things (like when he saw Michael's nose was running check his lungs and was like, "Well, there's no sign of pneumonia, thank goodness," and using this "tone" that meant he was talking down to me. Perhaps it annoyed me more because he isn't an actual doctor, he's a Physician's Assistant. It also annoyed me because he was the one (when I brought Michael in before thinking he had an ear infection) that was talking down to me then. Oh, and the one who also tells me we need to get Michael in a separate room because we could be stunting his development by co-sleeping.

I should not that we only ever see this guy when we have to get last minute appointments for Michael.

The ear drops were a pain to administer, but Michael loves the antibiotic that was prescribed, so at least that part has been easy. After that first weekend, things definitely started to improve. Michael has been nursing and sleeping more, fighting off the horrible infection. I do seem to love this, though. It means more cuddle time for mama and baby.

This past Friday Michael had his one year check up with his actual pediatrician (who I love). He weighs (or weighed) 22 pounds, six ounces (60th percentile) and is 30.75 inches long (75th percentile). She said his ear is on the mend, thanks to the ear drops and "bubble gum medicine", as I called it as a child.

Lesson of the story:
- Don't worry about being a mama that cries sickness.
- Better to be safe than sorry.
- Pay attention to all the signs your baby is giving you.

(Just to leave you with an adorable picture of him, here he is passed out after one of our recent hikes!)