Averages

How many times will a baby throw his spoon during a meal?
How many breakfasts in a row will a baby eat yogurt and cheerios?
How long will he be fascinated with the toilet seat?
How many baths will he poop in?
I'm just wondering, because Jett is an above-average baby, and he is really excelling in these particular categories.

What is this stuff?

We don't have a lawn of our own, but the Botanical Garden has a huge one. A huge, luscious, landscaped, green paradise that we don't have to mow, weed, or fertilize (although we do have to pay $15 to use it and they don't allow you to spread a blanket out on top of it). Still, what a gorgeous day for Jett's first picnic, and a great way to meet up with my friend, Beth.

This was a momentous day for a few reasons. First of all, at 20 miles, it was the furthest I've ever driven Jett by myself. I know lots of parents who drive their kids all the time by themselves, but I just don't have to do that much, other than the occasional trip to Target or the doctor's. Usually when Jett is in the car, both Charlie and I are in the car, and one of us always sits in the back next to Jett. So like I said, this was a big road trip for Jett and me, and I'm happy to report that we both enjoyed it. I played my music and Jett babbled along in the backseat. Now that we've got 20 miles under our belt, we're ready for a real road trip. Where to go, where to go?

Secondly, this was Jett's first time in the grass. Grass without dog poop in it. Grass without trash in it. Grass without broken glass in it. (Our neighborhood sounds lovely, doesn't it? I really like our neighborhood, there's just something about our block and all of the littering and lazy dog walking). Anyway, I took Jett out of the stroller and plopped him in the middle of the blanket (before the blanket police told Beth and I that blankets weren't allowed). He crawled right to the edge of the blanket and spent a couple of minutes gingerly patting the grass with his hands. Then he sat on the edge of the blanket - one leg on the grass, one leg on the blanket. He was only a couple of feet from the stroller, and you know how enticing the wheels of the stroller are. He LOVES the wheels on the stroller. He sat there looking at the wheels and patting the grass with his hands until he couldn't take it any longer - he finally got on his hands and knees and crawled on over there. After that there was no stopping him. He crawled down towards the pond and he crawled over to the flower bed, which brings us to our next momentous event...

He tried to crawl into the flower bed feet first. This is exciting because I have spent the last few weeks (or is it months?) trying to teach Jett to get down from the couch feet first. Every time he starts heading off the couch I say, "Feet first, Jett!" and I swing his little legs around and help him slide down. Well this flower bed was dug out about an inch lower than the lawn, and didn't he just crawl right up to that flower bed and swing his little legs around so he could crawl off the lawn feet first? He only had a one inch drop, so it was kind of hilarious, but I was so proud! Of course I couldn't let him play in the flower bed, so our celebration was short-lived. But it was a celebration nonetheless. Way to go, Jett.

Happy Mother's Day

For Mother's Day, my baby slept for a fair amount of the 6 hour drive to my Aunt Sally's. He only woke up once in the night (at the hotel), and then he humored us by letting us take him into the chilly hotel pool. When we finally got to the family party, he charmed the pants off of everyone, then promptly took a nap. When he woke up he crawled all over the place and cracked up at the dog. It was a good day.


Here are Uncle Rich, Aunt Heather, and Cousin Megan on the swing.

Happy Day!

Eleven Months Old

Happy Birthday, Jett. Today you are eleven months old.



You've learned a lot in these last four weeks. You stand unassisted for a few moments at a time. You've started pulling the toilet paper off of the roll, and you have a fascination with the refrigerator. Most recently you've begun giving up the army crawl in favor of the more traditional variety of crawling on your hands and knees. You've also almost got the hang of getting down from the couch feet-first, and we've almost gotten you out of the habit of sucking on the wrong end of the spoon. We're so proud of you.

Yesterday I packed your diaper bag so you would have everything you needed in order to take a nap at Aunt Jenny's. You saw your favorite blanket (which is actually my pajama top) sticking out of the top of the bag, you grabbed it, and thus it has started: you and your blanket, your new bff. What I mean is, you've started crawling around the house while holding on to your blanket. You've stopped whimpering when I hand you the blanket. You want to hold the blanket when I change your diaper and when you get ready for bed. It's sweet. I just wish we had two of them, just in case.

You are entirely mobile and Daddy thinks you'll start walking in a week. I think it's going to be a little longer than that, but it's not far. You're so cute crawling around, getting where you want to go, but your mobility poses some challenges. We've had to baby-proof the cupboards and doors, and we have to swiffer the floors every day, since you want to eat anything that falls on it. It's harder to take you out now, because you always want to get down and investigate your surroundings, but unfortunately the world is not baby proofed.

You're really showing us your preferences too. For example, you refuse to lay down for me when I change your diaper, so I've had to learn how to change you when you're standing. Lately you've tried to remain sitting while I change you, but trust me, that is just not going to work.



You've missed your grammy these last few weeks. She's home taking care of her mom, so Daddy and I have been juggling your care between the two of us, and lots of help from Aunt Jenny. Grandpa Bob came down this week to watch you for three days too. Some babies wouldn't be able to handle the changing circumstances of every day, but you just go with the flow. We're so lucky. We miss grammy too, but we love getting to spend this extra time with you.

Speaking of spending extra time with you, I thought you might have started giving up nursing one of these days, but no. You've been known to try to start lifting my shirt up when you want to nurse, which is funny at home, but kind of awkward everywhere else. I'm trying to teach you a "sign" for nursing, so you'll stop with the shirt-pulling thing, but so far you haven't caught on.

But we are communicating more and more all the time. You know the sign for "eat" now, and when I say the words "eat" or "dinner" you sign it back to me. I don't know how you learned that "dinner" means eat - as far as I can remember, I've never signed it to you. I think you know what the words "bath" and "book" mean. And when we carry you down the stairs of our building, you get so excited. You perk right up and kick your legs and pump your arms up and down and make happy little Jett noises. I think you must love going outside.



As you know, Daddy has spent the last six weeks getting up with you in the middle of the night, and he must be doing something right, because you're developing better sleep habits. You rarely need a bottle at night anymore, and you're getting better at sleeping straight through too. Often you still wake up in the middle of the night and just need a little attention - Daddy might read you a book, or just hold you and rock. I'm as amazed as you that I don't even hear you cry at night anymore. Daddy is doing a great job. Don't worry, I hear you in the morning, when my shift starts. On that note I'd like to ask a favor. Could you sleep in just a little bit? 5:30 and 6:00 is way early, buddy.

Despite the fact that you wake up so, so early, I love our mornings together, snuggling on the couch, reading books, and looking out the window. I think we're going to have to start watching less of the morning news though. Yesterday morning you crawled on over to the tv and bounced up and down in front of it making your happy noises.

Oh, the things we're learning from you. You're the best teacher ever. Happy Birthday, Jett. We love you.



P.S. Thanks for the fab photos, Miss Falbo!

Grandpa Bob

Jett had the pleasure of entertaining Grandpa Bob all week. I would say it was one of Jett's favorite weeks!

The Most Important Job

Sometimes you're at work, and it's your busiest day, and you need to focus, stay productive, get things done, and yet you can't stop thinking about your baby. What he might be doing. Whether he's smiling or sleeping or reading a book. Is he laughing or eating? Crying or crawling? You don't know, and you want to know. You don't want to know. You want to know. You want to call home. You don't want to call home. Because if he's crying, what can you do? Could you offer the magic bit of advice? Or would it make the rest of your day impossible? If he's laughing and happy would it help you refocus on work, or make you desparate to get home?

So finally you call. And he's fine. Not just fine, he's wonderful. He's laughing and playing and napping and eating better than he did for you yesterday. You thank your lucky stars that you have the most easy-going baby in the entire universe and wonder how he got that way because you know it isn't genetic. You settle back into your chair, go back to your computer, and swallow that little lump in your throat that always swells up when everything is going so well for your baby.

Later, you manage to leave work early enough to get home to feed your baby dinner. But then the bus is late. And crowded. And slow. Your next bus is even later, fuller, and slower. You get home after dinner, which your baby has decided not to eat anyway. He is on the changing table when you walk in, and he waves to you, a "Yo, whas up" kind of wave. You quickly run a baby wipe through your fingers to clean off all of the bus germs from your hands so you can pick him up and love him up, but all he wants is for you to sit down and hold him. So you do.

He sits in your right arm. Then he sits in your left arm. He wiggles around, and you know what's going on. You rushed home to play with him, but you see those eyelids drooping. Now he turns around in your lap to face you, and leans in, belly against belly, his little head on your chest. His arms fall down to his sides, and his little fingers curl open slightly, he takes a deep breath and his sweet little chin hangs open just a little bit. His little head gets sweaty and his hair is wet where his head rests against your arms. You keep the chair rocking back and forth, back and forth, and he settles in for sleep.

It's an hour and a half before bedtime, but he skipped his afternoon nap today, and now you think maybe he was just waiting for you, which makes that lump in your throat reappear. You missed dinner. You missed playtime. But now he's laying his little head against your chest and that's the best feeling in the world.

Smooches

Sloppy, wet, noisy, open-mouthed kisses happen all over our house, from 6:00 in the morning to 8:00 at night. Sometimes there is tongue involved, and it is always Jett's. He kisses everything.

Today he kissed the dishwasher, the trashcan (I moved him away from that one right away though because the trash can is clearly too old for him), the back of our couch, every page in his These are My Hands book and oddly enough, only one particular baby in the Peekaboo Baby book he borrowed from Ellie. He kissed Charlie between the eyes and on the cheek, he kissed me on the lips and the neck and the shoulder and the back, he kissed Ellie's jean-covered bum, Aunt Jennie, his teddy bear, and the edge of the bathtub.

If I ask him for a kiss he will look at me like he doesn't know what I'm talking about. "Me? Kiss? What? Is that even a word?" And then out of nowhere he'll wrap his little arms around my neck and blow a raspberry into my shoulder. Yum.