Sick Baby

It's inevitable. Children get sick. They must. Part of survival for us is immunity. We must be exposed to illnesses to build immunities to them. This is a strong reason I have for actually wanting my son in daycare (only second to socialization). I have been very protective up to this point. With him being premature (and spending time in NICU), his Pediatrician made it overly clear that an illness in the first two months of his life could very easily result in hospitalization. No one touched him without washing their hands. We placed a blanket over his carseat if we had to take him in public. Visitations were very limited, and we absolutely kept him away from small children during that time. But since he's gotten bigger, we've relaxed our stringent routine and allowed some exposure to the World. I have my limits with explorations, but if I feel it is safe, by all means, he may explore. He has been putting everything in his mouth (especially his hands/thumb). And, for the most part, I let him. It is how he discovers the World around him. Why not?

Last week he started getting congested. In my ignorance, I did not know babies could not have pollen/dander/etc. allergies yet. I thought that could have been the culprit as he hasn't had a fever at all.

I was wrong. 

He got his first cold. Viral. He went to the doctor twice. I'm still very nervous about him getting RSV. But the doctor said this was not the case. Phew. That's all that I needed to know. I can take care of him well enough to aid in recovery of the common cold, but not something as serious as RSV this young. 

He's been stuffy and coughs occasionally. He can't sleep lying flat. He's been clingy and wanting to be held almost constantly. He's been fussier than usual for sure. But in the midst of his cat-like purring breaths, he will smile and laugh. And it captures my heart like a small rodent in the talons of a prestigious hawk. 

He's so amazing. Even when he's sick. 

4 months

Weight: 18 lbs 9 oz (99.7%)

Length: 25" (57.9%)

Head: 43 cm (98.2%)

Luke is laughing out loud, grasping his hands, and making lots of funny faces. He smiles at new people. He laughs and smiles at daddy more than anyone. Daddy has the magic touch when it comes to rocking him to sleep. He still isn't sleeping through the night. He usually wakes up once or twice for a small feeding, then back to sleep until I wake him up to nurse before I go to work. 

He likes sucking his left thumb (when he can find it). He chews on his fingers and drools... A LOT. His Pediatrician looked in his mouth, felt his gums, and said it didn't look like he was teething yet. 

He usually takes 5-6 oz of breastmilk in a bottle when his babysitter watches him. His doctor said 30 oz of milk a day is the  maximum he should have now. He said it was ok to start him on stage 1 foods now, and he could have as much as 2 oz at a feeding twice a day. It's exciting to think of feeding him solids already, but I'm still up in the air. The "golden age" for starting solids is 6 months. Our Pediatrician agreed. But with Luke's weight and his appetite, it is hard to keep him at 30 oz/day. As long as breastmilk/formula stays his primary source of nutrition, we may try it. We just switched his supplemental formula from Similac Advance to Similac Sensitive to see if it helps with his sensitivity to dairy. It's still a milk-based formula, but lactose free. I am still not having any dairy in my diet, and that is going well for him. I experiemented with milkshakes (Ahhhhhh I MISSED them!!!), and he ended up with diarrhea and just not acting like himself. I felt terrible. No more dairy for this momma.

Luke is wearing mostly 6-9 month clothes. 3-6 month onesies are too tight on him. Some 6 month clothes fit, Some 9 month clothes fit. 

He hasn't rolled over yet. The Pediatrician said the chunky ones usually rollover later. Ha! That's ok. I love his chunky little butt. I give him a little nudge, and he rolls right over by himself; he just won't initiate it. He isn't thrilled about being on his tummy either. He tolerates it much better than he used to, though. The kid loves to stand. Any time we go to pick him up, he straightens his legs and pulls himself up to standing. 

He 'talks' up a storm. He says 'momma' a lot. He isn't saying it purposefully yet, but I enjoy hearing it just the same. It's hard to keep up with the reality of how fast he is growing up. 

Bathroom Spider

I went a step above becoming a juror of my peers today and went straight to being the judge. I let 2 spiders live. Yes, me. I'm notoriously afraid of spiders. Anything with more than four legs (or no legs at all, for that matter) freak me out!

I wash Luke's bottles in my bathroom sink exclusively. I've dedicated my vanity to it. I fill the sink with hot water and some natural, organic, hippie dish liquid soap or something like that, and I let the bottles soak. It's like a nice spa day for the bottles. All detoxing and shit. Or so I hope since I fill them with Pit's milk. On two separate occasions, I've found a flea in the water. Yikes! Can't ingesting those nasty little things can give you tape worms?? Ugh even more gross. I have 3 dogs. Fleas, dog hair, that stuff is inevitable. But in my bottles' spa water?! Damn. I found some new little bug in the toasty, bubbly water today. Damn. I was so frustrated. 

Not only do I kill spiders in my home out of fear, they are also a delightful buffet for house centipedes and those top my list of scary, disgusting shit. They have 567,389 legs and can run 687 MPH. Scary shit I tell ya! *Shudders* I HATE them, and I don't want their food in my house! They keep showing up in my bathroom on occasion. *Shudders* Which is also where my spiders seem to be hanging out, all in the open and what not. 

I was doing my hair, minding my business, and spotted two of the eight-legged-mobile-centipede-buffets just chillin in the corners of the ceiling above me.

I decided to let them hang out, indefinitely. They love the little buggies that are attracted to my sink for droplets of leftover milk. No harm. They're just trying to catch a meal, too. I can respect that. As long as they don't go trying to repel while I'm sitting under them, they will live. Another condition is as long as I don't find another creepy house centipede in my bathroom. *Shudders*



*Update: 8-22-13. Spider #2 came to his demise. He broke my conditions. He was in my territory one morning while I was getting ready for work. It was very clear this area was off limits. On top of that, allowing those two to live in the corners of my bathroom sent a message to all of their buddies that it was the new hang out. Two more decided to join. They were terminated due to being in areas too close for comfort for me. The one pictured above wasn't having any success obtaining food, but he followed the rules and stayed well above the living quarters of the bathroom and made a new home in the corner over Josh's sink. I believe he has since died due to starvation. Rest in peace bathroom spider.

Pitter

Luke's alias 'round herr. Josh's fault, by far. Let me start with our dogs.

Our oldest dog is named Tank. He was half of a pound when I got him. Poor pup was at a local pet store (I know, I know-I don't shop pet stores any more), and he was so tiny that his little feet were falling through the holes of his cage. Saddest sight ever to a dog-lover. I bought him. He's a miniature pincer. Tank was merely a play on words for his itty bitty size. He lived up to it well, because even as an old man dog, he still thinks he is large and in charge. Oh, and entitled I might add (see below with father-in-law). 

His name is Tank, but we call him Moo and Moo Moo. I have no amusing story as to how this came about. I'm just as clueless as the people that give me the dog-head-tilt when I call him that. I am now convinced it was Josh. All Josh. Lord only knows how it happened, but it stuck. It's what we call him. It has now trickled down to our son. 

Josh humorously calls sandwiches samitches and animals aminals. Not because he's dislexic, just because he's Josh. He started out calling Luke caterpillar, because he looked like a caterpillar when we swaddled him. That turned to cap-a-tillar. Then, it was cap-a-titter. Eventually, it just became Pitter. I witnessed this transformation before my very eyes. And I'll be damned if it hasn't stuck. I caught myself calling him Pitter and soon gave Josh credit for being an ear-worm genius. Sigh. I've been had.