AM Wilder

Finally remembered to drag the camera into Wilder's room with me in the morning so I could capture the face we wake up to almost every day. How can you have a bad day when this is looking back at you? : )

"So ALL FIVE monkeys had to fall off the bed before they learned their lesson!? Geesh. Monkeys aren't so smart, are they?" 

Sunday good timin' on the porch 

Wilder and Nanny Mariana 

Idiocy & Bone Throwing & Arrivederci to Pumping

UPDATE: Well, thanks to my ability to make horse noises out one side of my mouth (You oughta see it: It's quite a talent if I do say so myself); and because I was willing to haul giganto-baby around the neighborhood in his baby backpack yesterday, causing the space between my shoulder blades to ache to the point of numbness; and, furthermore, because I am willing to hide my face behind Wilder's huge Winnie the Pooh and talk to him in some crazy Latin, Antonio Banderas-like accent (Pooh is quite the Rico Suave in our household), I have once again fallen into Wilder's good graces.

Man, staying on a baby's good side is EXHAUSTING! : )

On today's roster:
1. More backbreaking baby hauling
2. Dancing like a hopped-up crack addict to "Viva Las Vegas"
... and who knows what else? Suggestions?

AND:
As of today, I am done with just over six months of pumping breastmilk for Wilder. For that time, I hooked myself up to a milking machine for two (at the end) to eight (at the beginning, including two+ hours in the middle of the night) hours every day. It was a darn-near full-time job, on top of a part-time job, on top of the full-time wonder of just being a mom. Whew, no wonder I'm tired! It was often thankless, although my unending gratitude goes out to Jerry for being supportive, keeping me company, knowing just when I needed an "attagirl!" and generally telling me how much it meant to him and, though he doesn't know it yet, Wilder. I never — NEVER — could have done it this long without my wonderful husband's support. And, in the end, it was well worth it. Wilder has still — knock on wood — never been sick a day in his life, and that's just awesome. So, now ... onto the cermonial burning of the breastpump!!!! (kidding.)

Such a boy: He already LOVES watching cars go down our street. Particularly big trucks.  

I already sent this to quite a few people, but I love it: "Get BACK Pooh! The Paparazzi wants ME!!" 

I REFUSE to look at you. Now get me my bottle woman! 

I think he looks so much like Jerry in this pic 

Six months old, and so over momma

So all the books say that 6 months old is pretty much the magic age. They start to assert their independence, learn the beginnings of manipulation, etc. etc. And, in classic form I guess, Wilder chose his 6-month mark to react as if I were his trained monkey: there to attend to his every sustenance and diapering need, and little else. "Eye contact? What's that? Smiles? I think not," he apparently said to himself upon waking up in the morning. Yes, the love of our lives is apparently getting more personality. And, dare I say, attitude. I'm starting to see how mothers get their hearts broken repeatedly. I already feel like he needs me less, but I'm sure it's a phase.

We don't actually have his 6-month doc appointment until a week from today, so no stats to report yet. He's doing all the normal developmental things, plus he's got way more hair. No chompers yet. And, blessedly, he's started going to sleep at night with very little fuss (knock on wood) and has even taken a few naps lately with no major outbursts. And, now that I've written that, I'm sure all will change promptly.

Anyway, more pics above: I did actually get a few shots w/o his back turned to me. And the one of him in his exersaucer is from this morning, when I was granted a bit of a grin.

Byekiddomommylovesyou!

So we had a Texas-sized thunderstorm about 2 a.m. this morning. It was nuts. At one point the lightening strikes were so close not even half a second would pass before the thunder clap would boom. Even Sam the Dog was scared. I was jumping out of my skin with each huge strike. And, of course, I kept thinking: "Next thunder clap, Wilder's going to wake up screaming bloody murder!" Did he? Nope. I guess thunderstorms must replicate womb sounds to some degree, because he slept some deep, hypnotically primal sleep through the whole thing. I think Jerry and I could have grabbed wooden spoons and a couple pots and pans and run around the house singing "Supercalifragilistic-expeealidocious!!!" at the top of our lungs in Kermit the Frog and Miss Piggy voices and he wouldn't have peeped.

Of course, five minutes after the storm subsided, he woke up hollering.

Babies ... so unpredictable.

So I leave for Vegas in about 3 1/2 hours. Meeting three girlfriends there. I'm SO looking forward to it -- the pooltime, the poker tables, the girly-talk, the icy-cold cocktails, the lights, the ridiculousness that is Vegas -- but man, am I dreading saying goodbye to my boy. I've been hugging on him and kissing him like a crazy woman all day. Jerry's for certain going to be sick of my "so how are you two doing?" phone calls by the time I get home on Sunday. I'll just have to do it quick, like setting a broken nose, right? ByeWilderbegoodbenicetodaddyIloveyoutonsandwillmissyoubye!! And then go out to my car and sob while I navigate the highways to DFW Airport.

That said: Viva Las Vegas! And may the Gambling Gods be good to me!

Happy Easter Everyone! But please -- no photos.

Hee! Wilder, camera shy? Riiight. Actually, he does this every time he takes a bottle. Milk makes him sleepy, I guess. Anyway, I thought this photo was kinda cute. And, for once, I don't hate a picture of myself. My hair is sweaty and plastered under that hat and I've worked off all my make-up planting flowers in the Texas heat, but I'm happy as a clam with my boy, and I think that shines through all the rest.

So we've had a great day. Jerry and Ty, who's in town visiting, took some shrubs out on the side of the house. I planted tons of flowers. We all got our sweat equity in today, and it was a great day for it. Just beautiful here.

Anyway, just wanted to wish our blog visitors a very happy Easter. The sun is going down on a gorgeous day, so I'm going to join Jer and Ty in the back yard for the final bit of it.

Love to all, k,j&w

ps. Special thanks to Grandma Teri for the cute Easter romper Wilder's wearing in this photo. : )

Awww

I have a feeling this will go down as one of my favorite pictures of Jerry and Wilder ever.

Mama and Wilder 

Playing with Papa at the winery near our house. We sat on the patio and drank sangria (Wilder had milk, actually -- he's not a sangria man.) 

Version 1.0 and 2.0 discover their fingers are delicious 

Because it can't all be fun & games ...

There seem to be entirely too many photos of Wilder looking happy on this blog. Sometimes, as this photo clearly illustrates, he is very NOT happy. And I decided today, after his fourth or fifth tantrum, that we needed photographic evidence of this so that, when he grows up and has children of his own, I can show him what karmic retribution really means. I didn't realize how early a parent could think to his or herself: "Someday, my little boy will grow up and have screaming children of his own." And oh, what a strangely pleasant little thought that is.

So, Dad, if you're reading this (or Mom, maybe Heaven has a little Cloud 9 Cyber Cafe?): I'm sorry. And I'm getting my come-uppance.

As an addendum: The second after the flash on this picture hit his face, he calmed down and began gazing lovingly into the lens. Stinker. Stinker stinker stinker. On the upside, he's now in there sleeping peacefully, having never restarted the tantrum. Or maybe he's not. I just know it's delightfully quiet in my house right now, and I'm sure as shoot not going to upset the delicate balance of our universe by going in there and checking on him.

PS: It just occurred to me that this photo does not at all display the full force of the holler-fest that was going on in that crib. Trust me ... 'twas not pretty.

Our happy boy 

Pop and Wilder on a beautiful spring afternoon 

Like father, like son ; ) 

Wilder goes for Guinness! (Not to worry folks and no need to call CPS -- we didn't actually let him drink any.) 

Wilder's Opening Day

Today Wilder went to his first ballgame -- Texas Rangers vs. Boston Red Sox (Curt Schilling pitched!) at Ameriquest Field. The Rangers ultimately lost 7-3 (we had to leave early cuz Wilder was OVER baseball), but we had a great time. Wilder, of course, was way more interested in flirting with ladies in seats around us than watching the game. Little charmer.

A few pics below.

Love to all, k,j&w

PS. One funny little anecdote: I was changing W's diaper in the women's restroom, and Wilder was looking around at all the women and then looking back at me with this look on his face that said: "MAMA! These ladies can see my goods!!!" I guess he's not used to an audience during the changing o' the britches.

Inside the stadium. Despite all evidence to the contrary, we did not today nor do we EVER plan to dress alike. We got to the parking lot, looked at each other, looked at Wilder and both went, "Oh my God ... we look like doofs." 

Wilder & Mama pose for a quick pic.  

Wilder & Papa in the parking lot. Our boy is worn out! 

After the game, getting ready to drive home. W's tired as can be, but can't stop smiling on the way back to the car.  

My parents call this guy "Uncle Ty," but I just know his real name is Grizzly Dude. He makes me SMILE. 

Woooohooo -- this is more fun than a barrel of monkeys. Wait! It HAS a barrel of monkeys!!!!!! OMG ... peeing pants now. 

Holy. Friggin'. Drool.