Resurfacing

Well, we did it. It's been about two weeks already (gasp!) but I am happy to report we survived the change of address. Despite several days without Internet access or cable television I lived to tell the tale. Forgive me if I have implied otherwise by deserting my beloved blog.

Although weather forecasts predicted rain, the only earthly element we battled was wind. The sky was merciful and remained clear over the entire weekend. The only casualties claimed by the move were my hamper - some unruly screws decided to escape while in transit - and Nate's bookcase, a hand-me-down which was on its last leg to begin with. Overall, it was a success. I compare it to a festering wound that finally scabbed over. Yes, my view on moving hasn't changed. It still aspirates hardcore.

We're not exactly settled in. In fact, the only rooms that are complete are Nate's nursery and the bathrooms. I just haven't been able to muster the energy to unpack in addition to performing our everyday routine tasks. But regardless of the numerous boxes I must detour, it is slowly beginning to feel like home. It feels right.

No more third story travels, arms laden with groceries or a portly baby. No more lugging trash to a dumpster on the opposite side of the community. No more fighting over vacant parking spaces or worrying about sound travelling through paper thin walls to annoy the adjacent neighbors. We've traded a view of asphalt for a view of trees and nature galore. Best of all, it seems we've nearly doubled our living space. We will need additional furniture just to keep it from looking too bare.

Even though the positives far outweigh the negatives, I can't help but reminisce. Our apartment was where our son was conceived. I peed on the infamous test in the guest bathroom. DH took photos of my burgeoning belly in front of our bedroom door. I labored on the couch in the living room. And we brought our baby home to that apartment. As shiteous as it may have been at times, I will always have fond memories of how our lives evolved there. Call me crazy but there are times I actually miss it. All part of adjustment process.

But I also look forward to making new memories here in our new house. There's sure to be some amazing stuff in store for us.
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Nate turned 7 months old yesterday. I know I say this every month but it never ceases to amaze me as the months pass by so hastily. I hardly remember what life with a newborn was like. I often look back at photos just to recall how much he's changed since we've been properly introduced.

In the span of a month, he now has 4 - going on 5 - teeferoos. It didn't take long for his mouth to blossom with little white slivers once the first one erupted. Everyday I seem to find a sharp, new tenant in his orifice. At this rate, he'll have a complete set by his first year.

Nate is also starting to show signs of crawling. He can get up on all fours and rock back and forth. But as soon as he tries to go forward, he lands flat on his belly. It's only a matter of time until he gets the hang of it and I'll be chasing him, shooing him away from sockets and wires. I can picture the chaos now. He's getting so big on me.

I'm beginning to retire his 9 month clothes in favor of 12 month apparel. With the move, I packed up all of his 6 month clothes. I shed a few tears as I folded them and stuffed them in a big brown box. I also traded his 6-12 month socks for the 12-24 month TODDLER size. Yes, my son could now be mistaken for BigFoot. That is, if he had more than his tuft of blonde fluff upon his noggin.

Solids are still a work in progress. Nate is still not a fan of being spoon-fed and will cinch his lips closed so that no one - not even the most savvy or entertaining folk - can penetrate the fleshy barrier. We've moved beyond rice cereal and oatmeal to banana, peaches, melon, avocado and pears. Out of all the delicious aforementioned fruits, it seems pears are his favorite. But that's not saying much. Only that he shudders rather than gagging. I follow his pace and I refuse to force feed him, even if it means wasting ounces of fresh homemade food (courtesy of my trusty Beaba Babycook, to which I shall dedicate a separate post to its awesomeness). I've tried various textures ranging from thin and watery to thick, soft and chunky. But it doesn't seem to make a difference. Purees - he's just not that into you. I'm beginning to consider that he would best adopt baby-led weaning (BLW).

He seems to be breastfeeding more often than usual and I'm worried that my supply alone won't be able to keep up with his dietary needs much longer. I know Nate can sustain nutritionally on breastmilk exclusively for a year or even more. But pumping is becoming a nuisance. I can barely pump enough to satisfy his appetite for the two days per week that I am at work. I was hoping that we could rely on fruits and veggies to fill in the gaps where my pump fails. Alas, due to Nate's rejection, I fear that we'll have to resort to formula in that instance. Although I will do everything I can to avoid it and stick with mamma's milk.

I'm sure you got more than you bargained for with my incessant droning so I will wrap this up neatly by saying it's good to be back. If you'll have me.

What's Going On

I apologize for leaving a void where my posts should be. I owe you all an explanation for my absence. I'd like to admit I've abandoned my blog in exchange for the drudgery of packing up innumerable boxes of useless trinkets belongings and deep cleaning areas that haven't been tended to since my nesting tirade in my 9th month of pregnancy. But that would only be a half truth.

DH turned the big 3-0 on Thursday. Although he prefers the ersatz "twenty-ten". We celebrated with a relatively low-key dinner and dessert here. Simply delish. Oh, not to mention my generous gift to him. Or should I say to us. It was a bit of a selfish purchase since we both expressed interest in learning the fine art of photography and had both been eyeing an SLR for quite some time. His birthday was the perfect excuse to splurge.

I should note that my first idea was a ski trip to Western Maryland but since I couldn't bear to leave Nate with my parents for an entire weekend to partake in amusing winter-themed activities, it would have required DH to hit the slopes solo. He politely declined the woo of the Black Diamond in favor of the well-reviewed camera.

Despite his continuous bereavement of his youth (his words - not mine), I think he secretly enjoyed the occasion. He waxed nostalgic about his twenties and realized that he had accomplished much in the past decade. He earned two degrees. Joined the workforce with a job applicable to said degrees. Fostered his inner entrepreneur by forming his own side consulting business. (Sure, right now it costs more in taxes to maintain than the profit it provides - but it is a startup after all. And I'm proud of him for even having the cajones to bring his vision to life.) Not to mention he made the best decision of his life when he decided to make me his wife and procreate with me. *wink wink*

As he talked aloud ad nauseum about how far he's come, my mind wandered as I thought about how far we had come and how our relationship has morphed over the years. I've tried to articulate the thoughts that swirled around in my mind but I've yet to be pleased with the results. Maybe one day soon I can be eloquent enough to share my babblings in a post all its own.

Somewhere between organizing boxes and celebrating my loved one's milestone, my immune system managed to infect itself with another cold, complete with head congestion and leaky nose (and to think I paid my dues in December...how foolish). Thankfully, it seems to have halted its progress. I am hopeful I can avoid a full-blown infection this go round. I am willing to suffer if it means Nate can be spared from its wrath. Much gratitude, booby milk.

Speaking of Nate and boobs - er, food - we're still riding the solids train. I often muse over why we call cereal a solid when the consistency is undoubtedly liquid. But let's not lose sight of the topic at hand. They say the way to a man's heart is through his stomach. And if that's true with my son, well...I'm in trouble.

We started two weeks ago with the rice cereal, which went better than I had expected for the initial attempt. However, in the days that followed, Nate became increasingly obstinate (I know, my son? Obstinate? I must be mistaken). He refused to open his mouth in anticipation of the spoon, shaking his head and combating the utensil in objection. His jaws were impervious even to the fail safe "airplane" game. It got to the point where he would bust into tears just to be seated in his highchair. The last thing I wanted was poor associations with mealtime. And in all fairness, the rice did smell rather putrid even mixed with breastmilk.

So, in the face of a conundrum, I searched the kitchen and pantry high and low for any safe alternative to cereal and discovered bananas. I cut off a small chunk and mashed it into a puree. Same result. Gagging. Refusal. Mr. Fussypants in all his splendidness.

After forcing bananas for two days, I decided to give oatmeal a try. No gagging. Just a little residual spit. And I even got him to open up for a few bites. Sneaky bitch that I am found a loophole to his resistance. Ever pretending to be larger than life, he prefers to hold the spoon himself and put it in his mouth on his own. So, I dip the spoon in the oatmeal just enough for him to get a taste when he transfers it to his mouth. Also, as he goes in to lick the inside edges of the bowl like a desperate canine, I sneak a spoonful of oatmeal into his vacant oral cavity. Works like a charm. Last night, I actually got him to finish a whole tablespoon this way.

Just like our journey with bottle acceptance: practice will make perfect. I guess I just bred a boy who knows what he likes. As long as it starts with a B and ends in OOBIES.

Wordless Wednesday: First Supper