sitting pretty

We love to sit with Peter resting against our legs, facing us. (He likes it too - it's his "poopin' position.")

In recent days, though, Peter's been trying to sit up on his own from this position. He's not strong enough to do it yet (come on! he's only 8 weeks old!), but it made us think that he might be ready for his infant seat.

Peter shares his ride with San Jose.

Peter thinks his seat is a car - he's using the pummel as a steering wheel.

His neck control isn't exactly at the place where we could use the seat for more than a few minutes at a time - Peter will hold up his head only when he wants to, thankyouverymuch - but he seemed to enjoy a bit of big-boy sitting.

static cling

So, Dr. Harvey Karp tells us that babies like white noise, because apparently it's pretty noisy in the womb, what with all of the wushing blood and digestion and who knows what else.

And, since KJ and I are hopelessly cheap when it comes to things like this, we decided to forgo any fancy sound machine and just tune the radio to static.

For the first week or so, we had it tuned just off of a bizarro NPR station (which is a lot better than KQED), so I would wake in the middle of the night to Carl Kasell talking to me, or Michael Krasny kind of telling me what would be on that day's Forum.

Then, we somehow lost that station, only to have it replaced by a station that played popular indie rock and weird, crappy mid 90's music. Think Death Cab for Cutie followed up by the Goo Goo Dolls. It might be newborn-baby-sleep-deprivation speaking, but I kind of remember having a Decemberists singalong with Kevin. Then again, this really sounds like a bad party I might have attended.

Next came a pretty solidly static-y station, which was nice except for the night it mutated into some kind of semi-air raid siren. This little bit of audible pleasure occurred just as an unusually fussy baby was having his diaper changed. It turns out he was fussy because, in the moment it took me to find the "off" button on the stereo, Peter had managed to pee all over his face. Yeah, I'd be a little fussy too if I thought the Russians were nuking us and I had just peed in my eyeballs. Poor kid.

For about an hour we experienced the static station that played really bad jazz. Not even Peter appreciated that one.

Now, the station is pretty solidly fuzz. And it works magic, in ways I never would have anticipated. And...it's free!

personality

Peter's developing more and more of a personality, as evidenced by these latest funny faces:

cautionary tale

If baby has outgrown his diapers, don't try to "finish off" the last two or three.

Unless, of course, you like smelling like baby poo.

Zookeeper Peter

It's probably just a baby thing, but it sure seems like Peter's life is covered with animals. There's his jungle-themed stroller, carseat, and pack-and-play, the hippo gym, and his tummy-time blanket also is a cute jungle theme.

All of his toys are animals as well, with the exception of the baseball glove Kevin bought for him, because, really, it's never too early to start playing catch.

Peter's menagerie includes:

Monterey, the fish; San Jose, the shark; Serengeti the elephant

Galapagos the tortoise; Calamari the octopus; Everglades (or Crikey!) the Alligator (or Crocodile)

Hip-hop-anonamous the Hippo; Outback the kangaroo; Kalahari the lion

So, yes, I spent probably more time than was needed thinking of educational names for Peter's animals. And there are some flaws - calamari refers to squid, not octopus, and I have no idea if it's an alligator or a crocodile.

I'm in the process of composing theme songs and dances for each animal, so that Peter can learn to recognize them with three senses - visual, audio, and tactile. So far, we've been working on Monterey and San Jose, mixing Galapagos and Serengeti into the mix occasionally.

Peter also enjoys his two Busy Bees (neither of which is a bee).

Busy Bee #1 and Busy Bee # 2 (a.k.a. The Deuce)

goodbye, Gram and Pop and Aunt Brey

Peter said goodbye today to his grandparents and aunt, as they returned to NJ after visiting with him for about a week. I think he handled the loss well; both he and I spent pretty much the entire day sleeping. While it's great to have visitors, it definitely exhausted us both - we're used to a few more naps during the day!

I think I can speak for Peter when I say he's looking forward to seeing his family again in December. Who else can spoil him like this?

Don't tell Sean, but Aunt Brey may have a new man in her life.

A very mature-looking Peter hangs out with his Poppy.

Gram steals a kiss

new tricks!

I have several updates to post, but this one is breaking news:

Peter has TWICE rolled over from stomach to back. I would have dismissed the first time as a fluke, if he hadn't done it again minutes later, as if on demand, for our waiting video camera.

He's seven weeks old today, which means that the rolling-over feat isn't crazy early, but it is on the early side of rolling skillz. Given that he's had pretty good head control since birth, though, I guess we shouldn't be surprised that he's moving on to other developmental milestones.

We'll post a video once we get the appropriate connector cable, but it's pretty funny.

Peter takes on the city by the bay, and his second beach to boot

Peter was a trooper during the Ross family visit to San Francisco, including two long-ish car rides, being Bjorned all day, waiting on line for an hour for a cable car, riding said cable car, and walking around in the sunshine all day.

Ross Family with Golden Gate Bridge

Peter and a cable car

Did I mention getting a tattoo and getting a beer?

He also fared a bit less successfully during our attempted drive down Highway 1. I'm blaming it on his 6th-week growth spurt, which has made him hungrier and crankier than ever before.

The Ross Family walk into the ocean, at San Gregorio Beach

And, I'll go on the record as saying that there's now a part of me that sympathises with Britney Spears's holding-a-baby-in-the-moving-car, as there was nothing more I wanted than to scoop baby Peter out of his carseat and comfort him. (Note: I was not driving.)

Grandparents! (and an aunt)

Peter is getting to know Gram, Pop, and Aunt Brey this week while they're visiting from New Jersey.

Peter's surpisingly large family

Tomorrow, Peter will finally have a chance to meet his other Grandmother, as well as his Grandfather Ross and Aunt Bridget.

You may think that our little guy is bereft of family, being so far from everyone out here in California. Ha, ha! Peter actually has more aunts and uncles than one could think possible. For example:

Great Uncle Al. That's Al Gore. Yep, the love affair with Mr. Inconvenient Truth continues. We find ourselves referencing Great Uncle Al when walking around the condo, turning off lights, or lamenting the fact that we keep a radio tuned to static on all night. (Note: sometimes, he's Grandpa Al Gore, which kind of makes us Cosby Show-ish, in that Peter may end up having 15 grandfathers.)

Uncle Homer. Mmmm, doughnuts.

Uncle Larry David. Because Peter really likes the Curb Your Enthusiasm theme music, and because we find ourselves saying, "pretty, pretty, pretty, pretty, pretty, pretty, pretty" more that we'd like to admit.

Uncle Charles. Because Peter and the Round Mound of Rebound have so much in common.

Uncle Kari. Peter's waiting for some guitar lessons, or at least for Sammy Soil to come perform at his birthday parties.


Semi-Aunt Jen, or Should-Be Aunt Jen. She should technically be Aunt Jen (especially if Charles Barkely gets an upgrade), but we're hoping to throw a celebratory party when it becomes official. (Ahem. Hint hint.)

It seems that everyone we know out here has claimed to be an uncle or an aunt of some sort as well, including Uncle Father Bob and Uncle Father Oscar. Really, Uncle Father Oscar is far, far too much to resist.

photo shoot

slightly cross eyed

male bonding

Peter and me

smiley

Later, we took long walk down Castro street to run a few errands. On our way back, we stopped at Pioneer Park for what turned out to be a baby feeding/diaper changing/costume changing. Nothing says good times like a wet, warm glow down your chest from a baby with an ill-fitting diaper.

It turns out, this wasn't the first diaper leak of the day, which means that Peter went through an unusual number of costume changes. He took it all in stride.

the moro reflex

The most entertaining newborn reflex is the Moro, or startle, reflex. Whenever an infant feels like it's falling, or is startled, it will throw up its hands as if it's saying, "Whoa!"

The reflex is a holdover from our more ape-like days, in which baby apes would need to reach out to grab hold of mother's fur if falling while swinging through trees or eating bananas, or whatever it is that apes do all day.

startled asleep?

An unswaddled Peter often will fall asleep half-Moro, as if:
(1) he's anticipating some future startle and wants to be extra ready;
(2) he's actually in a perpetual state of half-startle;
or, my personal bet
(3) he's fallen asleep half-way through his reflex, as if he couldn't be bothered to finish.

Peter's new trick?

I think Peter's very close to finding his thumb or finger on a regular basis. He's definitely shown much more perseverance and dedication in trying to get something jammed in his mouth - not to mention an awareness that those arm-things might actually be under his control.

This lasted for about as long as the video, which makes me thankful that I had the camera right there.

Hey...why isn't someone holding me?

I think Peter's really becoming much more aware of his environment. This awareness has made him a bit...well, "demanding" is the fairest way to put it.

Unless he's very happy or slightly sleepy, Peter prefers to be held over someone's shoulder, looking out to the world. He will allow me to sit on the futon and do this, but he makes Kevin walk around looking at stuff in the apartment. Specifically, Peter likes to look at:

the seal, the basketball,

and his "starin' wall."

He really only sleeps if someone is holding him, which I know isn't unusual, but it's amazing how much he needs it. I can pick him up from the bassinet where he'd been fussing and within two seconds of hitting my chest, he's snoring. We can put him down in his pack-and-play, and he'll wake up within two minutes; picking him UP from the pack-and-play puts him right back to sleep.

He hates the Bjorn in the morning, but otherwise loves it.

He's not so hot about bottle feeding, either.

He needs his pacifier. As Kevin said it, "he has a very strong need to suck."

like father, like son

Kevin's teaching Peter some great new tricks:

smile!

It's not a video, but it's as close as we have, for now. During our massive photo shoot at the library today, Peter cracked a grin.



But, I tried to video-it-up a bit:

pudge

Check out the dimples on Peter's hands:

second hike blues

A few lessons from our second family hike, at El Corte de Madera Creek Open Space Preserve.

(1) Hot parents = hot baby, especially when Bjorned.
(2) Always remember a diaper change pad, or else you'll end up changing diapers on your lap.
(3) It's good to find somewhere comfortable to feed the baby while along the trail, or at least some place level and not scratchy.

A tilty diaper change. Not as precarious as the lap-change, though, but with its own hazards.

An additional lesson was learned last night, and may place a serious wrinkle in our return to the outdoor life.

Given:
Baby will almost always be asleep if in carseat in moving car.
Baby will almost always be asleep if in Bjorn.

Prove:
Baby will be awake almost all night, if parents go on a two-hour hike that's an hour away

Yep. I'm blaming that coma-like four hour nap smack in the middle of the day for the fact that Mama got about 1.5 hours of sleep last night, and an additional 3 this morning.

Peter enjoys the views. And is very, very asleep.

smiley mcsmile

For his first month birthday, Peter decided to show us the trick he's been working on for a week now: a big, happy - if fleeting - smile.

I've been the recipient of both of the observed smiles. It's a benefit of being, unquestionably, his most favorite person in the world.

Peter's also making a few new noises, including an adorable half-cry that means (we think) hey, what's going on? Do I like this? I'm not sure. He also makes what might be his coo, or at least a happy sound, which is remarkably quack-like.

So far, no photographic evidence of these smiles, but they look a bit like this:

one month check-up

Let's get this over with right at the start.

May 7th
8 pounds, 10 ounces
20.5 inches

June 7th
11 pounds, 9 ounces
21 inches

Peter's a growing boy. He's just growing OUT, and not UP.

Let's put it another way: he's in the 35th percentile for height, and 95th percentile for weight.

Do you want to visualize this? The kid has fat ripples ON HIS FEET, not to mention his little wrists, arms, and thighs.

This is great news for Peter and for me. I was concerned that his recent spate of somewhat runny diapers meant that I'd have to cut out dairy, citrus, soy, or wheat from my diet - to say nothing of tomatoes, onions, caffeine, and chocolate. Really, what would I eat? That's my diet, right there. But, since Peter's gaining weight so well and shows no sign of dehydration, I'm clear to eat whatever I'd like, runny diaper be damned!

In other news, he has a bit of a heat rash from his new swaddling/sleeping in his bassinet routine. He still has his umbilical hernia, but we're still unconcerned about it. He was a very good boy for Dr. Soriano, even during his Hepatitis B shot.

And the best news is that we've been cleared to that the baby to high altitudes! Hello, John Muir Trail. (Just kidding. Didn't I mention that the kid weighs almost 12 pounds? He's definitely not coming with us on any upcoming backpacking trip.)

Peter's girth is taking a physical toll on us both. I have the well-documented tendonitis, and both of us are suffering from some serious back aches and sore, tired arms. While waiting for Dr. Soriano, Kevin had me steal a handout on isometric back exercises, and I've checked out a few Pilates videos from the library.

first bath bath

We've been sponge-bathing Peter for a while now, but today we toughened up and actually bathed him, in a tub, with water.

It's yet another item I'm adding to my "How in the *@#& Does a Single Mother Do It?" list. Because, really, I think Kevin and I could have used another set of hands.

Peter makes it a little tougher: he's been Mr. Splounch!, spitting up almost constantly. It's like a little river of baby puke coming out of our son's mouth...adorable, really. And, he's SO pudgy it's hard to get into his ripples. I'm pretty sure his neck won't be fully clean until his 5th birthday, and don't even get me started on his thighs.

I've read that many, if not most, babies are comforted by a bath. For many parents, it's part of a calming routine leading up to bedtime.

For Peter, the bath led to a solid 10 minutes of serious freak-out. Luckily, we're versed in the Cult of Karp.

Kevin's comments include, "he was a good boy," and "his hair looks funny when it's wet." Which is true, especially about the hair - it almost looks like Herschel Walker could be his father.

almost one month

Because Peter was cooperative (and so cute), I took his one-month photos today.

Hmm. This suggests that there will be no photos tomorrow, which clearly is a ridiculous proposition.

pensive and pacified peter

his father's eyebrows

inside the cavern that is the Soothie

Golden Slumbers

I might be having an emotional affair with Dr. Harvey Karp. I'm really in love with the man and his witch-doctor baby-sleeping ways. It's almost like kiddie heroin.

Last night's achievement? Bassinet sleeping for almost the entire night.

Here's some video evidence of the magic mojo of this baby wrangler:

family walks

Family Walk time is perhaps all of our favorite time of day.