John and I have been convinced that Owen would go straight to walking, given that he is much happier standing, jumping, and walking while clutching our fingers. To our surprise, Owen has decided to branch out and try alternate modes of transportation..the military crawl. This is where he stretches out on his tummy and uses his arms and a little wiggle of his legs to pull himself towards a particular object of his affection. It is definitely a last ditch effort but works in a pinch when his chauffers are not available. This is what John and I call ourselves since the vast majority of our day seems to be spent escorting Owen around. He will be playing with a toy and suddenly sit bolt upright, wave his little arms in the air, and grunt. This is how he beckons us. If we don't immediately respond to his calls and are within striking distance, he will smack our legs, arms, faces, whatever he can reach to emphasize his point, "I must visit the kitchen now!," he seems to be saying. We put out our hands, he pulls himself up, and we are off on an adventure with many stops on the way (especially if there are cheerios strewn in our path.) But if we still don't respond, he throws himself onto our new plush rug that was a gift from his Marnie (my mom) and inches his way around. Babies amaze me. One day he had no interest in crawling whatsoever, the next he is blazing a trail on his belly. Where did he learn that? Wherever he did, we are thankful for the break it provides our backs.
Army, Navy, Air Force, Marines
John and I have been convinced that Owen would go straight to walking, given that he is much happier standing, jumping, and walking while clutching our fingers. To our surprise, Owen has decided to branch out and try alternate modes of transportation..the military crawl. This is where he stretches out on his tummy and uses his arms and a little wiggle of his legs to pull himself towards a particular object of his affection. It is definitely a last ditch effort but works in a pinch when his chauffers are not available. This is what John and I call ourselves since the vast majority of our day seems to be spent escorting Owen around. He will be playing with a toy and suddenly sit bolt upright, wave his little arms in the air, and grunt. This is how he beckons us. If we don't immediately respond to his calls and are within striking distance, he will smack our legs, arms, faces, whatever he can reach to emphasize his point, "I must visit the kitchen now!," he seems to be saying. We put out our hands, he pulls himself up, and we are off on an adventure with many stops on the way (especially if there are cheerios strewn in our path.) But if we still don't respond, he throws himself onto our new plush rug that was a gift from his Marnie (my mom) and inches his way around. Babies amaze me. One day he had no interest in crawling whatsoever, the next he is blazing a trail on his belly. Where did he learn that? Wherever he did, we are thankful for the break it provides our backs.
Road Trip
"I have some bad news," John said one night at dinner, "I have to go to (sunny) Florida for a few days (and sleep in a hotel with a big comfy bed and people who clean up the room every day) and help out with a project on a ship (that is floating in beautiful blue water, outside in the 80 degree weather." OK, so the parentheses are mine, but still it was a sucker punch to the gut that John was leaving me alone with Mr. 5:20 am and the sleety, rainy, cold Seattle spring. I immediately got on the phone and called my friend Sara, who lives in Portland, and told her that Owen and I were coming to visit for a few days. I thought I was being brave and adventuresome, taking the little guy on a road trip. Sara thought different, "Chicken," she said. She was right, but I didn't care. Better to be a sane chicken than an insane martyr. Owen and I dropped John at the airport on Wednesday morning and then I drove like a cautious bat-out-of-hell to get most of the way there before Owen woke up. He slept like a rock and didn't wake up until 20 minutes before we got there. It was a hairy 20 minutes, though, with me throwing toys over the seat, aiming for his lap, and singing "Skinnamirinkidink" to keep his screaming a few decibels below eardrum rupturing.
We had a warm welcome from Sara and her 2-year-old son, Finley, as well as the kitty, Alice, and their dog, Katie. Ted, Sara's husband, was out getting a root canal. This, I thought, was brilliant planning on Ted's part. If you are having a 9 month old coming to stay with you, better to get some prescription painkillers and a legitimate excuse to take them, if you can.
The Hobbs were excellent hosts, feeding me, entertaining Owen, making me the most excellent ice cream Sundae, calling Owen smart and adorable, and giving me hints as to what's to come (The Wiggles.) Finley was quite sweet with Owen, even though he didn't quite get why he had to be gentle with baby Owen but baby Owen could yank his hair; why he had to share his toys with baby Owen, but baby Owen could grab toys away from him; why he had to be quiet, but baby Owen could scream and cry. Finley got a wee bit of revenge when they boys took a bath together (Owen's first in a real tub!) He cleverly waited until Sara and I were occupied with trying to take some pics of them and then quickly grabbed a big bucketful of water and dumped it on Owen's head. Not to be outdone, Owen managed to grab the plug and pull it to drain the tub. Ah, friends!
The sweetest moment came when Sara and I were in the kitchen with Finley and Owen was in the living room, (briefly) unattended. I heard his sweet, gurgly laugh and peeked around the corner to see Katie (the dog) giving Owen big licks on the face.
We made it home without a hitch on Friday and were thrilled to see John Saturday morning, even if he did have a tan.
The Real Dirt on Farmer John
Owen isn't the only thing we are growing around here. John has been hard at work fulfilling a longtime dream of having his very own garden. John, by the way, dreams big. Our neighbor keeps popping his head over the fence to say, "That is a really big garden." Having never gardened before, I didn't quite get the glint in his eye. That is until our seeds arrived and I realized that 50 broccoli seeds don't even cover the surface of a dime. Our other neighbors have decided to forgo a garden this year because they think we will have such a cornucopia of produce, we will be begging them to take some. So far, we have planted spinach, peas, little gem lettuce, broccoli, cauliflower, cabbage, broccoli raab, and strawberries. John and Owen do a "garden report" every evening (twice on the weekends) to see what has popped up since the day before and John is wondering if he can build a gardencam to capture germination in progress. If this goes well, John will be on to his next dream..raising chickens.
Quick Fix
I know it was cruel to leave everyone dangling from Owen's ripped fingernail, but there have been adventures to be had, seeds to plant, and yards to dig up. All of which I will tell you about when I have a spare moment. In the meantime, here are two clips of Owen to tide you over!
His little finger, by the way, is just fine. I took him to the doctor who looked askance at his sewn-up sleeve until I reminded him of the choking hazard the band aid presented. He suggested I super glue his fingernail down, which made me laugh. Me, who hardly lets Owen play with anything made of plastic, made in China, touched by phthalates, etc. put super glue on his finger. I smiled politely and came home and cut his little nail off.
His little finger, by the way, is just fine. I took him to the doctor who looked askance at his sewn-up sleeve until I reminded him of the choking hazard the band aid presented. He suggested I super glue his fingernail down, which made me laugh. Me, who hardly lets Owen play with anything made of plastic, made in China, touched by phthalates, etc. put super glue on his finger. I smiled politely and came home and cut his little nail off.
Rough and Tumble Weekend
Call the doctor, please!Owen and I started our Friday with the intention of baking muffins, carrot, Owen's specialty. We got out our ingredients, I strapped in him the baby bjorn so he hands would be free to do the mixing and..ugh..why is there blood all over the bib? I didn't think babies bled while teething, but..wait, even more blood, what the heck? I took Owen out and had to steady myself because his face was covered in blood. I don't know that I have ever seen a more upsetting sight than my own child's blood. After cleaning him up, I realized it was coming from his finger. He had somehow managed to snag his little finger nail and almost tear half of it off. Owen by this point was wailing and, I swear, spurting blood. Since it was only 8 in the morning the doctor's office wasn't open and John had already left for work. I called my mom in a panic and she provided excellent counsel. I gathered my gumption to clean him up, dress his little wound, and put a sock over his hand to keep him from gnawing on it. This would naturally happen when his two bottom teeth are working their way into the world and Owen is desperate to chew on his hand. The above photo is of Owen, looking exhausted, calling the doctor to ask them how to get his mother to stop mashing on his finger to make the bleeding stop. John called Owen's sock hand his "Kapow!" hand.
Since Owen thought we had simply invented a new game called "Pull The Sock Off" where the winner gets to eat the band-aid buried under the sock, we needed a new system. My mom suggested sewing up a sleeve, so I bought some way too big shirts and John sewed the sleeves and, as you can see, Owen was much happier about the arrangement. He does, however, look at his sleeve longingly, as if wondering where his little friend has gotten to.
Despite two teeth coming in, a wounded finger, a few good bonks on the head while trying to stand, Owen was in the most excellent spirits this weekend. The only time he was fussy was when we took him to a pig roast and they put the pig out on display, eyeballs and teeth and all. Yeah, he's a true veggie just like us! Sunday night, as bedtime neared, Owen pulled a book off the shelf (the butterfly book, Joni) and managed to wiggle his way into John's lap for a good snuggle and story. We just love this little guy!
(Gum) Breaking News!
Clink!As soon as Owen saw me take a sip of water this morning, he started squealing and flapping his arms. "I want a sip!," he was saying. I put the glass to his lips and ...
Clink!
I hadn't heard that sound before. I stuck my fingers in his mouth for hourly gum check and, sure enough, a little rough, pokey spot. I tried prying his mouth open as many ways as I could think of to take a peek but he was on to me (as usual.) The few glimpses I could get revealed what looks like a tiny cut on his lower gum. We'll keep you posted!
Here is Owen checking out his new image
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