Football Player or Ballet Dancer?

Because it was Jon's birthday this week, Auntie Kim bought Logan a couple presents.

Makes total sense, right? :)

She saw a couple Chargers footballs that she couldn't resist - one small nerf ball for Logan to play with now, and one larger one for him to play with when he's a bit older.

I got out the small nerf one today and he immediately started chewing on it, throwing it around, watching it bobble and roll, and then chase after it to throw and bobble around again. It was very entertaining (thanks again Kim!).

However, as with all toys, he soon got distracted, uninterested and needed to move onto the next cool toy. However, since no cool toys were to be found in the immediate vicinity, he made up his own little fun game.

TWIRLING AROUND IN THE CURTAINS.

I am not making this shit up.

And so I ask you, are we raising a football player or.... a ballet dancer?

The lines seem a bit blurred at the moment. ;-)

Jon's Birthday Dinner

Tonight we got together with a TON of our friends for dinner to celebrate Jon's birthday (earlier this week). Because Jon is the Socialite of our family, I called our reservation in for 25 adults and 10 kids. Yes, these are our "close" friends. :)

Of course, we ate at none other than Jon's favorite NY style pizzeria: Giovanni's. Yummmmm. We had a great time and were very happy that so many of our friends were able to make it.

Logan was particularly happy today - I picked him up from school early (had to have more blood drawn this afternoon to continue monitoring my hCG levels from the miscarriage), so he got to hang out with Daddy at his office the coffee shop for a bit before entertaining all of our guests at dinner with his double-fisting pizza crusts and spaghetti (learning to slurp!) action.

I'm telling you, this kid of ours is a starch slut.

Happy Birthday once again Daddy. Even though you're a nerdy goofball, we still love you. :)



(Click on the photos to see all of our crazy friends who joined us tonight)

Got Milk?

We moved from 50/50 (cow's milk/formula) to 75/25, to finally, 100% cow's milk all day today. And, I'm happy to report, so far so good!! :) We're going to continue with the 100% cow's milk throughout the weekend - monitoring Logan closely to make sure he doesn't have any digestive issues or allergic reactions, but we feel pretty confident we're good to go.


This is EXCELLENT news. Not only is regular ol' milk MUCH cheaper at the grocery store, but it means a lot less hassle and bulk for me to have to worry about fitting in our 2 suitcases for our big trip. YES! :)


** Not an actual "Got Milk?" ad, the photo is a doctored image I found online, but I thought it was still appropriate, given the similarities between our blog's, and the pic's, main subject. :)

9 months old

Today is a special day, because Logan shares his 9 month birthday with his Daddy's birthday. Happy Birthday Daddy!! We love you! (Happy Birthday to Uncle Kai, too!)

Yesterday Logan had his 9 month check up, and everything is looking just great! He weighs 19 lbs, 14oz (40%), measures 27.5" tall (25%, yes a shorty just like his Dad) and his head circumference is 45cm round (50%). As always, everything is developing nicely, he has a great personality and cognitive awareness, was crawling all over the exam room and chatting with the doctor toward the end of the visit. And, he didn't let out a single peep for his shot! Instead, he just kinda looked up at Dr. Safir with a "What? What's the big deal?" sort of attitude.

When Dr. Safir first came in and was listening to Logan's heart, Logan laid very still staring at him with a cautious, concerned look, all while Dr. Safir was making the silliest faces to get Logan to laugh. Of course, the minute Logan was back in Daddy's arms, he started laughing, smiling and chatting away, so apparently he just wasn't quite sure what to think of the goofy guy sticking lights in his ears and sticks down his mouth. I don't blame him. ;-)

One of the biggest announcements from our checkup, was Dr. Safir's permission to start allowing Logan to drink (cow's) milk! We were surprised, since we had heard you're supposed to wait till the baby is one year old before introducing milk into the diet, but Dr. Safir said not to worry about it and that he should be able to handle the milk just fine by 9 months. This was actually WONDERFUL news for us, because it means if he takes to the milk just fine, then we won't have to worry about bringing gobs of (heavy) formula with us on our trip to New Zealand next week!! WOOHOO

So, we started out last night with Logan's first bit of whole milk (mixed 50/50 with his formula), which he gobbled down no problem. As well as all day today too. Let's hope he continues to like it! :)

I don't feel like there have been as many changes over the last month that are blogworthy. But, if I think real hard, I guess there's been a few.


Logan's now using his index finger quite a bit to touch or move things around. He'll see a speck on the floor and try to push it along with his finger. Just the other day, I caught him tracing the tip of his finger along the ridge of his star-shaped puff before popping it in his mouth. He seems enthralled with this new ability to point and move his little index finger around, independently of all the others.


He's been pulling himself up on everything and stands for as long as he can physically endure. And, has been practicing how to sit down from a standing position. The better days are when he squats first, then sits down, rather than the KABOOM you hear when his butt hits the ground hard, missing the whole squatting first step. Luckily, his diaper provides plenty of extra padding. ;-)


When he's super tired, it can be hilarious to watch, since his legs start to get wobbly from standing so long, and he doesn't have much strength left to bend his knees and use his quads to support him into a squat before sitting down. The poor guy then doesn't quite know what to do and usually will begin to panic a little as he looks at you with big puppy dog eyes, "stuck" in a standing position. hehehe


Over the weekend, he got his first fat lip (accompanied by lots of blood!!). His arm gave way as he was trying to support himself up on his stool, so he came crashing down, hitting his lip on the edge of the stool. Ahhh, just the first of many bumps and bruises.


He screams and sings and talks up a storm. He'll follow you from one room to another (quite like our doggies) chatting along the way, not wanting you to forget the story he's telling.


Now that he has all 4 front teeth in, he's taking to "ripping" or tearing things with his front teeth, and also breaking foods off (like a cracker or chip or even a small cheerio or puff) to chew in smaller pieces. And, with those teeth, he likes to play the very fun game of biting Mom's nose as fast as he possibly can. Every now and then he'll nip you a bit and then he just LAAAAAUUUUGHS because, you know, it's hilarious watching Mommy jump back screaming OWWWW you little punk! Stop that!

He also thinks the word "NO" is the funniest thing ever.

*sigh*

We have a lot to train teach this little one. I suppose a prong collar, crate and doggy treats are out of the question?

Life and Death

Just last week, I had written out a beautifully touching, witty, fun post when we (officially) found out that we were pregnant. Unfortunately, this is not that post.

Within the past week or so, I was riding one of the biggest emotional roller coaster rides of my life. I had an idea that I was pregnant for a number of weeks, but resisted taking a test to make it official. When I finally peed on a stick I held my breath while reading the result. And, upon seeing those two little lines, I suddenly had a wave of emotions wash over me. Relief, nervousness, excitement, elation, and more than anything else probably, overwhelming fear.

It took most of that day for the news to sink in. Jon and I started discussing how we’d need to change our lifestyle, our finances, our furniture! In order to make room for a new little bundle of joy. How close will the babies be in age? Just 17 months – YIKES. It was a conversation we hadn’t planned on having for quite some time, yet I found myself enjoying it, nonetheless.

By the following day, we were getting excited. We were both on board, and whether too soon or not, we were ready to welcome this little one into our family in just 9 short months. I skipped through the rest of the week at work happier than ever. I had a dirty little secret that was making me smile inside and out. I was DYING to tell the world. WE’RE PREGNANT! But, I held back. We had told my dad about the news, but no one else, not even my mother (she was out of town), nor our best friends.

As the days flipped by, I could tell I was getting more and more emotionally attached to this little one. I called our doctor, spoke to him about some of my initial concerns, and made an appt for our first ultrasound. I got a journal (same one I had for Logan) and started filling in the dates to calculate when we conceived, and when we were due (May 1st). I signed up for the weekly pregnancy newsletter. I felt light "flutters" which were probably nothing more than gas this early in the game, yet it brought back so many old happy memories of what it was like to be pregnant! I started re-arranging the house furniture and rooms, within my head, to make room for another baby. I even went to a “Pregnant Mom’s Lunch”, lying to everyone that I wasn’t pregnant but just there to give my friend some moral support (which was true). I obsessed over when we should tell everyone our shocking news – our family, our close friends, everyone else on the Internets. I debated back and forth whether we should spill the beans before, or after, our trip to New Zealand.

I started looking at the decorations in Logan’s room, wondering if we were going to have a girl (and whether I’d need to buy additional, more girlie, stuff?) or if we were going to have another boy. I thought long and hard about whether I’d prefer having another boy or a girl. And, came to the conclusion that, I honestly didn’t care. Whereas before, I was leaning toward wanting a girl (because I thought I’d be able to relate to my first born more if she was a girl); now I wasn’t so sure. Could I relate to a little girl anymore, now that I have a boy? Wouldn’t it be fun for Logan to have a little brother to rough house with? Maybe two boys would be great fun. But, chances are, we wouldn’t have a third, so would I be okay with never having a daughter? Yes, all these thoughts and more, raced through my head. I even started thinking about names, all over again. And, which ones I liked best for a girl and which for a boy.

A little over a week ago, I was scared shitless about what our lives would be like with a second baby added to the mix. A few days later, I was impatient for the months to just skim by so we could meet Logan’s younger sibling.

So, you can imagine, how my highest of highs, suddenly plummeted to the lowest of lows, when I started bleeding Saturday morning. And, shortly after, I started cramping and feeling pretty achy all across my hips and lower back. Though some women do bleed early on in their pregnancy, I somehow - instantly - knew this was not good. Visions of sugarplums no longer danced in my head. I wanted to crawl into a dark little black hole and cry myself to sleep instead.

My OB happened to be on-call, so I was lucky enough to talk to him about what was happening. Unfortunately, since it’s still fairly early in the pregnancy, there’s not much we could do but sit and wait. I had some blood drawn on Saturday, and some more drawn yesterday, to monitor the pregnancy hormone, hCG, and see whether it was rising (still pregnant) or falling (miscarried).

It fell. Dramatically.

But I knew it would. I had hoped it wouldn't, but I knew it would. The bleeding and cramping has continued, throughout the weekend and this week. I have struggled going about my normal day. I have trouble carrying on any sort of real conversation. I keep thinking back to the past week of wonderful happiness and day-dreaming I had done. And how none of that is going to come true. I'm in a daze, not believing I've actually miscarried. I lost my hope, my desire, my will to live. I’ve been consumed by a dark depression; tears won’t stop streaming down my face.

And, I’ve had the mother of all headaches.

I know that, in the end, everything happens for a reason and it’s all for the best. That it was a blessing when we accidentally got pregnant but that we actually weren’t really ready. I know miscarriages are nature’s way of taking care of the unhealthy babies that are having problems developing. I know they are also a sign that the mother’s body isn’t ready for a(nother) pregnancy (especially after a traumatic delivery like I had with Logan, I'm sure). I know I should think positively, that this is nature's way of righting our course, that it’s not the right time just yet, that we now have a chance to plan the second one so much better, and that it will give us a chance at creating a stronger and healthier baby next time around.

I know, in my mind, that’s all true, yet none of it makes me feel any better, nor makes the grieving process any easier. My heart refuses to believe any of it and is instead screaming at me. Scraping and pounding on my chest inside.

But I know, that just like I embraced this pregnancy whole-heartedly in just a few short days, the pain will also, somehow, slowly melt away. That time is the best medicine. That writing it out here is about the only thing that’s made me feel any better so far.

That and, hugging my beautiful son, loving husband and pillow that muffles my cries and soaks up the days’ tears each night.

Backpacking

I mentioned awhile back we checked out all the top-o'-the-line child carriers to start getting ready for our upcoming New Zealand trip. Well, we finally decided on the Deuter Kid Comfort II (love it!) and tried it out on our celebratory thankgodwehaveOdinback walk last night.

I wish I was able to grab a better picture, but as you can see from the faces of my two darling boys, they were impatient and not willing to wait around for me to compose the shot just right.

Ah well. You get the idea.

I'm sure you'll have many more chances to see the backpack in action once we set out for NZ in a couple weeks (woohoo!!).

Lost and Found

We had a HUGE scare last night.

Jon and I came home last night from work to discover Odin missing. For those of you who don't know, Odin is the first puppy that Jon and I have owned together. Our first kid. And, I didn't know exactly how much that meant, until he wasn't waiting for us when we got home.

We're not sure what happened - we can only guess that he snuck out sometime yesterday morning as the two of us were getting ready for work, loading up the cars, loading up Logan, and he ran out the front door without either of us seeing him. All the doors/windows were shut/locked when we got home and Lola was here, just not Odin! :(

We searched all over the neighborhood and nearby streets. Jon went door to door to let neighbors know he was lost and to see if anyone had found him. Unfortunately, no luck. One neighbor said they saw a dog that looked similar to Odin's description running down their street toward Hamilton (a HUGE street!!).

He didn't have his collar on him (though he DOES have a microchip) so we were very worried he was either going to get hit by a car or get stolen. He *is* a beautiful show dog, afterall. My imagination was also running wild with the potential repercussions of an intact dog running loose, as well.

While Jon was out posting up flyers everywhere, I stayed home with Logan and seriously was going crazy. I thought I kept hearing Odin's cough or click of his toenails on the floor and would race outside looking up and down the street, flicking a flashlight in the bushes, calling his name. The longer the night dragged on, the more it hit me.

WE LOST ODIN.

I bawled uncontrollably a couple of times. How were we going to deal if we had lost him forever???

Neither of us slept well at all last night.

Then, this morning, as luck would have it, the local church minister called us and said he saw Odin wandering around their church grounds yesterday morning and he had called animal control. So, Jon and Nathan headed over to the local animal shelter to see if they had picked him up.

While Jon and Nathan were waiting at the animal shelter, Nathan checked on craigslist (the one place we DIDN'T think to look) and some lady had posted saying she found a dog, near our area, and to call her.

So, Nathan gave her Odin's description and also sent her pics - she said he described him to the "t" (she hadn't checked her email for the pics yet) and that as soon as she got home tonight, she'd call Jon to pick him up.

I just received a text from Jon, and a picture from Nathan, of the Daddy-Doggy reunion.

THANK GOODNESS. I couldn't be more relieved.