Nine Lives

I would say Rowan has been out longer than he was in, but we are still about two weeks shy of that statement. I've been reflecting on Row's birth and comparing it to his current personality. Those 42 hours (and 42 weeks) of trying to force him out meant nothing until Row decided it was time. And when he did approve the request to exit, he did so quickly, easily and brought a plethora of joy along with him. Heck, even my pregnancy was indicatory of what Rowan was going to be like. When we went in for his 20 week ultrasound, no amount of jumping, peeing, squishing and drinking cold water was going to convince him to show his little face. Then when we went in at 25 weeks, he dazzled us such an incredible shot that I still stare at it and marvel at how perfectly it captured his features. I think charming is a really good word to describe him. He knows how to dazzle and charm to make up for his frequent temper tantrums. 

Rowan is still refusing to crawl because he simply wants to walk. No amount of motivation is going to sway him and he remains convinced he will walk. I am fairly certain he will skip crawling and go straight to walking. He keeps trying to stand up from a sitting position without the aid of furniture or my bulging biceps. He can cruise with support like a champ, but when he trys to stand he face plants or falls backward. The doctor said his army crawl technically counts as crawling. She also said his lack of crawling doesn't have anything to do with lack of strength and everything to do with his strength of will in thwarting our efforts to aid his mobility. The ladies who watch him at the gym comment every time on his refusal to crawl and his determination to force them into helping him walk. They told me the other day that he just kept ramming into he wall in his walker and laughing. I just don't get why he loves to bang into walls. The other day I accidentally threw a pillow at his head while making the bed and he loved it. He fell over from the force of the pillow laughing until he couldn't breath. That kid. They also told me they had him in a stroller facing the opposite way from where he apparently NEEDED to be looking. He strained so hard to look where he wanted that he somehow managed to tip the stroller over. Once they picked him up, instead of crying he delightedly kicked his legs at his successful venture to turn around. He defines determination around here. 

He's been doing pretty good sleeping. He'll go down anywhere from 8-9:30p and sleep until 3:30-
5:00a. He will regretfully want to stay up for at least an hour when he does wake up and my abilities
to convince him to go back to bed are woefully less effective at 3:30a. The huge plus is he will typically sleep in until 9:00 as an apology to me for rousing me at the witching hour.

An adorable exchange has started to occur between Sel and Rowan on a daily basis. Row will say "Hey da!" Over and over and Sel will respond "Hey Row Row" in kind. They can actually go back and forth like this for up to 11 minutes (I timed it). I guess it's sort of something you need to hear in person to appreciate. 

We have a DVD called Baby Signing Time that Rowan is transfixed by. He doesn't seem eager at this point to learn more signs then he already knows, but he loves the songs. If we are in the living room and I start singing the opening song, he will whip his head around to look at the TV and wait expectantly for me to turn on his jam. 

Like many others who have gone before him, Row loves Cheerios. He knows the sign for cereal and will freak out if I sign it. He just starts bouncing around staring at the yellow cheerio box. He could eat a whole cup of them a day if I let him. He also loves the little food pouches and is surprisingly
good at feeding himself with them.
He is in the 95th right now for height, the 85th for weight, and the 75th for head circumference. At his wellness check, the doctor commented that he seems like a handful in more than just a physical way. This commented was born while she was trying to force his legs straight and he was absolutely  not letting her do it. He became so enraged at her efforts that he attempted to kamikaze off the table and snatch her stethoscope for good measure. He then flashed her a huge grin when she passed him back to me. I was surprised by how much she was able to discern about his personality in ten minutes. She also commented that he seems fairly advanced in his babbling (whatever that means... My baby makes nonsensical words better than other babies nonsensical verbage?). My favorite was when she said he seems like a really manly baby. I think his chest hair, deep voice and overall virile baby vibe must have influenced that opinion.
Rowan is still incredibly sweet and happy. He loves to show affection by giving little pats on your back or chest. He also will smoosh his forehead against yours for a few seconds. Sometimes I can't even contain how much I love this kid. I am constantly wanting to squish his cheeks and kiss him 24-7. He already has entered that stage where he seems embarrased by my excessive affection, but that ain't stopping me. And now here are practically a hundred pictures from this month. I have a picture taking problem. 

Row loves green. He loves salad, he loves green smoothies, he loves green beans. Let's hope he keeps this love up

His first experience with grass was less than fun for him. He HATED it. Held his hands up like that the whole time and whined. He now has come to a better place where he is mildly interested in it from time to time. 

Row had not just one, but TWO Easter baskets because he is so incredibly spoiled by his grandparents and great aunts. He looks displeased here because he hated the texture of the fake grass. 

This does justice to his feelings on Easter

Selfies

Hanging with gramps at the archery range

My hubs being presh and all that

Obviously not about Rowan, but my sis and I earned matching bruises at the archery range because we are a sad excuse for Katniss and Pocahantes 

Rowan LOVED getting to see his Aunt Sarah. She felt so- so about seeing him ;) 

Ukranian babe

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The hardships of motherhood

Ever since I was in elementary school, people with heavy burdens have seemed to find me. I don't know if it's that those people are looking for anyone to help them and I happen to cross paths with them at the right moment. I honestly don't know what it is and I typically haven't minded letting friends, family, or random strangers (who tend to be those who most frequently spill their whole life story to me) share their burdens if only through word with me. I have felt guilty on many occasions that I don't have much to contribute to making them feel better. I fail miserably at sharing words of wisdom or at being articulate in any sense of the word. I mostly just listen and offer small comments of sympathy. Sel has noticed this trend and likes to share his musings on why it happens. Apparently this same tie attracting those struggling to me crosses into the electronic world. I find myself discovering blogs of those going through unspeakable trials. Obviously those writing the blogs aren't reaching out to me, but I will happen upon one and just get sucked into whatever they are going through. It drives Sel bonkers because I will get so weighted down feeling sorry for strangers I will never meet. I will also make whatever they are going through personal. I will spend time contemplating what it would be like to lose my husband, my child or have family members with disabilities. No matter how hard I try to read articles or stories without relating it my life, I just can't seem to do it.  Sel doesn't get why I keep reading sad things and I suppose I don't either. I blame it on the perpetual invisible bond that has been following me around.

I have also seen an incredible amount of articles/blogs getting posted that talk about the hardships of motherhood. They usually conclude with some heartwarming bits of encouragement to keep journeying on and to keep motherhood real. These articles mean well, but they sit poorly with me. Every time I read one that "gets real" about how their kids bathe once a week, their houses are messy, or other pieces pointing out how their mothering is imperfect, my mind flashes back to those blogs of mothers who would kill to write a post talking about how hard it is to raise a house full of healthy, "normal" kids. I think comparing hardships is one of the dumbest, most useless things anyone can do. Who wins in the battle of whose life is hardest?  No one. It is always a bad idea. However, I can't help feeling unsettled about the idea of saying being a mom is hard (for me at least). Being a mom has been relatively easy for me and I have no idea why. I know it has had almost nothing to do with me and almost everything to do with my current circumstances.  I have one healthy baby boy who challenges me everyday, but he does not burden me. Being a mom is way easier to me than it was to work. I guess if we are comparing a life where I am filthy rich and travel the world with no responsibilities to my current life, you could potentially use the word hard. I just feel like longing for a baby after too many negative pregnancy tests sounds like a hard life to me. Having a baby die or be given away sounds like a hard life to me. Losing a child or a spouse sounds hard.  Getting a divorce sounds hard. Having a child with special needs or a chronic illness sounds hard. Having crippling health problems sounds hard. Getting up in the middle of the night to feed my baby doesn't feel hard when I think of all the alternatives. Having a child that fidgets or is stubborn or who whines doesn't feel hard. Failing at my one productive goal of the day to do the dishes doesn't frustrate me when I think about how lucky I am to have cabinets full of dishes or a fridge full of food to dirty those dishes. 
I really don't mean by posting this to discourage the beautiful release of venting. Like I said, comparison games are for people looking to fight a pointless battle. I also think those circulating
articles about the realities of normal mothering should continue to inspire and encourage all the moms who desperstely need to hear it. I only mean to share my personal thoughts on how I can't really consider anything in my current life hard when so many would happily trade me for my "hardest" day. I can't complain when I truly consider how enormously blessed I am.
I used to feel really weighted down when people unloaded on me, but now I am grateful for the perspective it gives me and the opportunity to help even if it is just a listening ear. Listening to another who is struggling also reminds me to keep my complaints in check and focus on the parts of my life that matter most. I dont exactly know where I was going with this, but I think I said

what I wanted to.