I’m Beautiful Like Me.

On Saturday, we went to Iroquios Park for the Mountain and Hammered Dulcimer concert at the Amphitheater. It was nice, but much smaller than I had expected. T and the boy were bored and the whole lot of them were on my nerves, so we opted to walk over to the park instead. The boy needs more outdoor time these days, what with all his energy. He needs some place to put it that doesn’t involve climbing my furniture or destroying Husband’s computer parts.

But he loves exploring.

And checking out the water feature,
as long as he doesn’t get too wet.

He talks up a storm these days. His vocabulary includes several words that are very easy for anyone to understand: “hi,” “hello,” “daddy,” “mama,” “eat,” “please,” “thank you,” “up,” “down,” “uh-oh,” “no-no,” “eat,” “more,” “bye-bye,” “cup,” and a few others that currently elude me. He also says a number of words that only I seem to be able to understand. He has a distinct way of saying T’s name that everyone else thinks is “daddy.”

He loves bathtime and is generally intrigued with water, although he usually approaches it cautiously unless it’s bathwater. P took him with her to the pool last night and said he wanted nothing to do with the pool, but sat quietly with her poolside and watched others in the water intently for 45 minutes. Anyone who knows Buddha knows that he is typically far too high-strung for sitting long spells contently!

Getting him to sleep is a nightmare (pardon the pun). I am so unaccustomed to this, as Joy has always been a dream (sorry - couldn’t resist) when it comes to bedtime. Every night is a literal battle over getting him to rest. Even naptime has escalated into hellish torment. The boy will be so tired and cranky but still refuse to lay and rest. Husband and I have wondered if perhaps he is plagued by bad dreams or if he is just afraid of sleep. And now that he has figured out how to get up and down out of our bed, we have decided that it is time to get him sleeping in the crib. I am every bit as unhappy about this development as the boy is. He screams as though he is being tortured, despite the fact that we are right there, coddling and patting him, whispering unheard reassurances that all is well, hush now, it is time for bed. This leaves me stressed out and unable to sleep for several hours thereafter.

His appetite has been fluctuating like that of a toddler: one day he is fine with eating very little and the next day, he is a bottomless pit. He has several teeth coming in and it’s getting very uncomfortable to nurse. He has punctured the skin on my left nipple with those tiny teeth of his, despite the fact that he didn’t actually bite me. I suppose it is just friction that accompanies the suckling motion of his mouth. In any case, the past few days I have dreaded nursing, as this is his preferred side. Wouldn’t it follow that he has wanted to nurse more these past few days? He really loves bananas and he enjoyed helping me eat the Rainier cherries (see last post). He likes sausage and chicken and french fries (well, any sort of potato, really) and pasta and olives and fish. His dislikes seem to be more about texture than taste.

He loves watching Jack’s Big Music Show and Blue’s Clues. He loves music. He likes books. But he still prefers throwing things best. Unfortunately, he is usually throwing his heavy toys (like the flash light the in-laws sent to him for his first birthday) at people or our computers. He likes being outside or going for a ride in the car. He wanders around aimlessly like a butterfly when we go to the park. He likes drinking (only water!) from a cup.

Nursing this morning.
What’s daddy doing?!