My First Summer

Over the last 3 months since the last blog entry, Sam has become a regular little feller and a sweet natured chap at that. He pudged up; babbles Dadadadadadadada like he’s doing his own Performance Art piece--The Dadaist; lounges and nurses on his bopi; goes garage sale-ing with his great grandma and mother; waves to his constituency while riding in his stoller; stands up with assistance and swims with assistance—Sam loves his assistants; eats like an Italianootse (code word in my family for those of us who know how to seriously and passionately mangia); plays with the toys that Oma Barb gave him; sprouted two teeth; laughs at his Dad as if his dad were moonlighting at Second City; whips off his socks and jams them into his mouth; sleeps in his own crib (see the fourth new blog entry—The Nursery); and thankfully still naps.

 

There are three other entries in addition to this one so please scroll on down.

"Mommy took Adobe Photoshop classes this summer"

I’m a wee bit concerned that I’m heading toward a “Cat’s in the Cradle” situation with Sam, the computer, and me. I spend too much time playing with pictures on the computer, so then he’ll grow up and spend too much time with his bootlegged and parentally banned copy of Grand Theft Auto and have no time for me. “When you comin’ home son? I don’t know when, but we’ll get together then”.

 

I’ll regret not sending him to The Waldorf School where digital is frowned upon because of the brain wave changing properties. Of course by then I’ll be brain dead from my altered waves. Oh dear, I’m about to begin a rant on The Digital Age vs. The Waldorf School. I’ll refrain, get off this computer and get together with my son now rather than then.

Sam and his Peops Revisited

Three Grandma Bears—Karen, Mary, and Peg—arrived for a visit. Peg and Karen were Sam’s first not-Grandma-Trudy babysitters. It was a short and splendid b-sit and helped Mama Bear ease her grip off the reins. I have a touch of separation anxiety. Oops, that's supposed to be Sam's problem not mine.

 

There is a picture here of Claire and Rose—Rose is our nanny-in-training (she’s even taken a baby-CPR class) and Claire has volunteered to be Sam’s first teenage babysitter—I’m almost ready for that…almost…the movie season will be starting soon and we do have tickets to see David Sedaris—I’m sure I can white knuckle through those events. I’m just so lucky that there are so many Sam-takers.  

The Nursery

Ahhh…the Nursery…the nursery project began when I was about 5 mos. pregnant. We hired a few guys who made things crooked so they get no blog time. Dave worked hard and received lots of family help to get the room straightened out.

 

Sam ended up sleeping in his cradle WAY longer than he should have because we wanted the nursery to be Sam ready and Sam worthy. The first night in his new nursery came at the end of the day that I discovered his first tooth. It was a rough night. Dave should have taken the empty cradle out of our room. By my reaction, you would have thought that Sam had packed up and left for college. My 11 year old cousin Rose showed me where to stand in the doorway of our room to see into Sam’s crib. I do love my family.

 

Making the nursery was a family endeavor. As you will see in the pictures, there were lots of hands in the mix. Four hands that were in the mix but aren’t shown in the pictures are Sam’s Uncle Rich and Aunt Felisse who sent us a crib. It’s a beauty as you can see. Sweet Dreams.

Stuff Sam Does

Welcome back to Sam’s Blog.

 

Sam is six months old now. As you can see in the pictures, he’s doing lots of stuff. He can sit up and eat and laugh and…he doesn’t roll over. This wouldn’t be such a big deal as he can roll to his side. And it’s not a big deal because when left on his play-mat he manages to scoot a couple feet away. The rolling over isn’t such a big deal as my mother insists he did roll over once (I wasn't there to verify). And it's not a big deal...to him.

 

My brother moved back to Seattle and in with our friend Eric who has a daughter Kaylie who is a month younger than Sam. Scott likes to call to tell me that Kaylie is very advanced—tumbles and creeps and will be attending Harvard next year. I had no idea how competitive I was until I was on the blanket with Sam trying to teach him the mechanics of rolling…as I don’t know the mechanics of rolling this was quite a lesson. This competitive streak in me doesn’t bode well for us—I’m sure I’ll be ousted from his sports programs.

 

Of course I’m joking. Sam is going at his own pace, a pace that is natural to him. But as I was rolling around (because I did do that) I realized that regardless of how he develops, grows and changes, I’m exactly the same obsessive nutcase. I thought parenting might make me Ghandi-esque. No such luck.

 

Thankfully, my nuttiness isn't effecting his mood. He's a happy baby as you can see.

Sam's Peops III: Contact

Picture #3 is of Dr. Gong. Dr. Gong helped us get Sam (whenever I say this, my mother-in-law raises an eyebrow and checks Sam for any feature that might be Chinese). Dr. Gong told Dave that acupuncture would give him “more power” and he told me to give up the western infertility treatments (which were making me crazy anyway) and stick with the needles. Two months later I was pregnant with Sam. He retired a couple of weeks ago and we’re sad about it as we were hoping he'd help us get Sam the Sequel. We’ll miss Dr. Gong and his Pat Boone white bucks.

Sam's Hats

Sam's a real Dapper Dan in his hats. One of his genetic gifts is the big Cusella noggin. Sometimes this feature makes him look like a lollipop, but it sure does make him look good in hats.

Sam Up to 3 mos. & Some Odd Weeks

Sam is 3 months old now, actually more than that, but I don’t do weeks—it’s too number intensive. All things baby tend to be number intensive. He’s 10 lbs. 3 oz. and 23 in. (well that was 2 weeks ago). He’s still a wee lad only in the 15th percentile for weight and 10th percentile for height which is proportionate: Wouldn't it be more anxiety producing to have a baby that was 15th percentile in weight and 90th percentile in height or vice versa? Even if the world of percentiles didn’t let me know how wee he is, there’s a whole kit and caboodle of women in the supermarket who let me know their child was THAT big at birth. Dave insists that I hear the emphasis in people’s speech where there isn’t any—“these pretzels are SALTY” (Seinfeld reference). The doctor is not worried about him so I’m not either; well today anyway…at 3am I worry about everything.

 

So even though Sam is wee, he is thriving. He does all the 3 mos. baby stuff—clasps his hands, giggles, smiles at his mum (that’s his best event), blows razberries, his head stays relatively steady (relative to whom? There are not other babies around his age so I say steady). His worst event is lying on his belly and pushing up. I blame this on the SIDS scare. He’s not allowed to sleep on his belly so he gets cranky when he’s belly-side down. Every healthy kid eventually learns to crawl, right? I just hope he doesn’t crawl into kindergarten.

 

At the movies the other night, Dave nudged me when a baby was shown and whispered, “Not as cute as Sam.” We hope you think he is a fraction of the cuteness we think he is…or a 90th percentile of cuteness. He’s definitely cuter than that baby in Matchpoint.

More of Sam's Peops: Socialization Continues

Sam is fantastic with people: The rowdier they get, the sleepier he gets. I could throw a party every night to get him to sleep through...but let's face it the real agenda is for me to sleep through the night. He’s content to wake-up every 4 hours.

 

Here he is enjoying some primetime loving from just a few of his favorite people.

 

#1—Princess Caeley kissing sleeping Prince Handsome

 

#2—Phyllis visited from Seattle to hang with Sam and watch the Oscars with me. My mother thought it was appropriate to engage in baby talk during the Oscars. I love my baby, but come on…he’s got to learn to pay attention to what’s important. Phyllis also had to endure my midnight serenades. Dave and I rewrote Folsom Prison for him—“I hear the Mommy coming she’s coming down the stairs/I ain’t seen a boobie since I don’t know when/I’m stuck inside this cradle and time keeps dragging on/ But when I hear my Mommy coming I hang my head and cry.” A couple refrains of that ditty sent her right back to Seattle. Hopefully, she’ll return.

 

#3—How many Virgos does it take to change a baby? It depends on if you want it done right.

 

#4—Grandma Joyce enjoys a mid morning hug with our man Sam.

#5—Sam and his Da fashion their nightwear.

 

#6 & #7 & #1—Caeley’s Birthday. As you can tell from #7 (showing a fraction of Sam’s 1st cousins), Sam will be birthdaying his way into cupcake heaven. In the Ferguson family, “birthday” is a verb and let’s not get started on Christmas. How will I ever teach this boy that Santa brings only one present every year?

A Day with Sam

Welcome to a day with our man Sam. A day with Sam includes eating, sleeping, bathing (if you look close at the bathing picture you'll see another one of Sam's activities), playing and making googly eyes. What I haven't included is the full blown meltdown but without audio it isn't nearly as dramatic.

Sam & Dad

I know, I know there are no Sam & Mom pictures. For those of you who have given birth, you may understand that I am currently camera shy. I had hoped that when the baby was born he would take more weight with him. I could get over myself or even better I could stop eating during the 3am feeding.

Buffalo Baby

A Bunting We Will Go, A Bunting We Will Go, Hi Ho the Merry-o, A Bunting We Will Go!

Sam and some of Sam's Peops

Sam gets lots of vistors...Sam loves it...Dave loves it...Lesa...not so much...left up to me we'd hang out in a cave and I'd nuzzle and nurse him until he walks. Not to say that you have to wait until he's walking to come for a visit.