Today, Baby G is ten months old.
No, I haven’t come up with a blog name for him yet. He’s at the stage of development where he alternates between smiling awesomeness and yelling terribleness, and so his name right now would probably be “Smiley McShoutypants”. And that’s just not sustainable over the long term. I hope.
He sleeps all night now, from 7PM until about 5AM or so. Lately I’ve even been able to get him back to sleep for another 90 minutes or so after that first pre-dawn wakeup. When Harry was this age, I was still sleeping on the floor next to his crib most nights, with my arm thrust through the bars so he could grip my finger. Experience, it counts for a lot.
He eats everything. EVERYTHING. The only thing we’ve found that he doesn’t care for is spinach. He eats more than Ron. It’s staggering, how much he eats. His favourite food is whatever I’m eating.
He only nurses three times in 24 hours now; first thing in the morning, before his afternoon nap, and before bed. I am happy with that schedule and could keep doing that for some time, if he likes. He doesn’t seem to mind missing them in favour of a bottle, so it feels like a happy snuggly time rather than a necessary chore. (No, I don’t like breastfeeding. Yes, I find it a chore.)
He loves music and dancing, and going for long walks in the backpack, but he gets tired of the stroller quicker than I’d like. Car trips are likewise torture if they last more than half an hour.
When he’s tired, he sucks his right thumb and rubs his ear with his left hand. The only lullaby he really responds to is “Mama’s Gonna Buy You a Mockingbird”. When I put him down drowsy but awake, he yells in violent protest for a minute or two, then stops.
He crawls very fast – extra fast when heading for the dog’s water bowl or the big boys’ bedroom. He cruises like a champ and in the past couple of weeks has started standing unassisted for short periods.
If I try bringing him in bed with me for a cuddle, all hell breaks loose. He pulls up to standing using the headboard, climbs up the pillows, and goes for the crank handle on the window. Every. Time. I don’t know exactly what he thinks is going to happen if he rattles that handle enough, but he certainly has fun trying to find out.
He is always in motion. Diaper changes are to be dreaded, ditto dressing him in the morning and putting pajamas on him at night. I need to sit with my feet resting on his ankles to keep him from flipping over and crawling away. Stuffing him into a warm romper suit every morning for the trip to the bus stop is like trying to stuff an octopus into a drawstring bag.
He has seven teeth and is working on an eighth. At his nine month checkup he weighed 21 pounds and was 29 inches tall. When we take him out anywhere, people ask how old he is and are always mildly startled to learn he’s not even a year old yet.
New Baby Girl is his new best friend. No matter how sick or cranky he is, he greets her every day with a huge smile and a little happy dance. She in turn greets him first with a hug, then by jumping on him. He’s starting to fight back and I foresee many battles before they sort out appropriate affection.
He can trash a room in seconds. Folding laundry around him is impossible. Ditto loading / unloading the dishwasher. I think of keeping him out of the Christmas tree, and I wish there was some way to hang it from the ceiling.
Thank goodness for the internet. My kids may not have baby books, but someday I’ll be able to look back on the blog and know everything about their babyhood.