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. 

8 is Great

Row has almost been out of the womb longer than he was in it. Rowan is a ball of baby sunshine. He has me in hysterics on a daily basis; hysterical laughter and hysterical anxiety. If he wasn't my child, I would be a little concerned with how obsessed with him I am. 

heres a little snapshot of what month eight has been like. 

We went to Frakenmuth, MI on a fun trip with Sel's parents. 

Wearing his Grandpa's hat

Today I took Rowan on a little shopping trip. Since he can't sit still for longer than a nanosecond I had to try and throw clothes over my head with one hand and hold onto his pants with the other. I finally tried to corral him in the corner of the dress room so I could zip up the dress I had finally managed to get almost entirely on my body. Rowan accidentally bonked his head in his frenzied calorie burning. Instead of crying, he decided it was delightful to hear his baby skull echo inthe dressing room. So what does my crazy 8-month old do? Bang his head over and over against the wall and laugh every time. Want to know what I did? Nothing. The bad mom that I am just stood there laughing. When I finally pulled him away from his head banging he started to cry and strain against my arms for his beloved wall. True to his typical tantrum pattern he started to kick me while a few of my spinal discs slipped out as I lurched forward preventing him from flying onto the floor. The clerk took this moment to unlock the dressing room to see me standing there in my underwear with the dress mid-calf, my child sobbing uncontrollably with a huge goose egg on his head, and a little bit of nip for good show because Rowan had hooked his foot in my bra while using my chest as a launching pad. She apologized profusely while new mom me just sighed and told her it wasn't a big deal at all. And it wasn't it. Old me would have been at least a smidgen embarrassed, but Rowan has helped me organize my priorities in a more logical manner. 

Rowan actually sleeps with a foam nerd sword in his crib. When I go in the mornings and he is happily babbling, the sword will just be waving back and forth out of the crib. It's a sight I have yet to capture on camera. 

I had no idea I would love matching them so much

Row is also allllmost crawling. My sister described it as a cute version of the of the Insidious girl. Haven't seen the movie, but I can imagine where she is coming from. Rowan will pike his hips and then get his arms stuck underneath himself and have to flap around a bit like a newborn baby turtle. We use a bottle of pills to motivate him to crawl across the room. Who knew a bottle of Tylenol was the best toy that has ever been invented? Food, toys, new objects have yet to motivate Rowan to huff across the room. Maybe he'll be a pharmacist someday. 

Row loves suckers. A lot. A lot a lot. We discovered this brand of suckers on our trip that Rowan can actually suck the inside out through the wrapper if you give him long enough. Grandma Warden sent a package of them after the trip and Row couldn't be a happier kiddo. 

Trying on Amish hats


Man, I love this kiddo of mine. He sort of loves me. I used the analogy to Sel the other day that Rowan loves me the way you love your legs. You are pretty sure you need them with you 24-7. If your legs got up and left the room without you, you'd probably be distressed enough to sob hysterically. You're grateful for your legs, but they aren't really entertaining. Dads on the other hand are hilarious people worthy of a constant flow of laughter. I decided to prove my point to Sel this morning in the following manner. Sel has a new game with Row where he pokes him in the belly with a magnetic pointer (Pillsbury doughboy style). Rowan will just gush and giggle. I had Sel do it a few times then I borrowed the pointer and did the same thing to Row. He just sort of stared blankly at me likely thinking, "WTF, I think my legs just tried to tickle me". I passed the pointer back to Sel and Row became animated once more. I think Sel is pretty hilarious too so I suppose can't blame Row for finding me boring. 

Did I mention his love for suckers yet? It's sort of an addiction right now. 

Rowan has become such a cuddler this month. He loves to stand in my lap (or mountin goat me by standing on my sides or chest) and squish his cheek against mine or suck on my shoulders and cheeks. He sometimes sucks on my cheek then accidentally rubs his head against the now dampened cheek and viola! He now has hair styled to slobbery perfection. 

Rowan adores his Grandpa. All he did this whole trip was laugh at grandpa. 

And pick at his luscious locks

Somebody asked me the other day if Rowan is good eater and I drew a blank. Rowan is an extremist. When he is sweet, he is the sweetest human being that has ever graced the planet. When he isn't getting exactly what wants, watch freaking out. This applies to his current eating habits. When he's in the mood to eat , he will delightedly eat his green beans with a plethora of heartwarming smiles . When he is not in the mood, you better come prepared with a hazmat suit because you are the only person in that room who will have an ounce of green beans anywhere near them. He also has such an attitude. He recently has started to not only wrench the spoon out of my hand and drop it, but look me in the eye and defiantly chuck it to the floor with gusto. 

Rowan has horrible circulation like me. He also refuses to wear mittens and pulls off his socks every chance he can. Sel and I have started to put two pairs of socks on his feet so when he pulls of his usual pair, his toes don't get frostbite. I've also started to put socks on his hands which he hates, but at least he still has hands. Right? He'll thank me someday

This one was my bad. I was cleaning out his room and let him play with this expired formula that we never had to use. Can't blame him for the mess since I enabled him.  

There are his beloved pills and pointer

The kid can also be such a charmer. He is so intent on forcing people to interact with them. He will stare down helpless shoppers at the grocery store until they look at him and then that's it. He will just smile and coo until they near forget what they were doing in Aisle 5. The other day Sel and I were snarfing down a pizza in the parking lot of the grocery store (It was a bad day for both of us, okay?) and Row starts slapping the window as these two girls get in their car next to us. They both get smacked silly with a few Rowan smiles. One of them started exclaiming "That's a real life Gerber baby there! Look at him. You get him in some commercials, you hear? Real life gerber baby!" I tried to smile and wave but a huge chunk of gooey pizza cheese slipped onto my chin while doing it. I bet she thought Row was adopted or that we had kidnapped him. 

Month 8 really has been great!

You can kind of see his little head popping up in the bed. We stayed in this adorable little cottage in Amish country that I want to own someday. 

Davie is the cutest cousin. Rowan was petrified of him for awhile even though Davie mostly just wanted to hug and hold Rowan. Now Rowan mostly just smiles at him. Poor Macy got mauled by Row during this trip and was goodnatured about the whole thing. Cousin love. 

I know you won't believe me, but of all the bajillion cards in my wallet, Rowan is notoriously attracted to my credit card. Probably trying to buy more bottles of tylenol. 

Seventh Heaven

When I was about 11 weeks pregnant with Row, we went on a day trip to Kirkland (a city about three hours away from us). The first trimester was really emotionally intense for me. I would have awful dreams at night of holding our dead child in my arms and wake up sobbing uncontrollably. I also started having anxiety and panic attacks one of which happened on this day trip. I can't remember exactly what triggered that attack, I think something in our conversation about me having a miscarriage.  It was intense enough that I had to pull over because I was hyperventilating so badly that I started to black out. As Sel got out of the car to come to he driver's side, I had this really clear image of a young man saying "Mom, it's going to be okay. You're okay.". 

I didn't share it with Sel at the time because we were both a little drained after the attack. We didn't know the sex of the baby yet so I also didn't want to say something and have it be totally out in left field. I still remember so clearly the love I heard attached to the word "mom" when this young man said it. It held such weight and instantly comforted me. After finding out Row was a boy, I was convinced the moment in the car wasn't just from a moment of oxygen deprivation. I have become even more convinced that it was Rowan comforting me since I have had the opportunity to get to know this little boy over the past seven months. 

The beginning of February Rowan came down with a nasty virus that kept both of us exhausted and miserable. I ended up getting whatever he had and couldn't swallow worth anything. I was trying to convince Rowan to take a nap with me on one of those tiring days and Rowan was fighting it. I buried my face in the pillow and started crying, which shockingly hasn't happened much since he was born. Rowan instantly stopped fussing and started grabbing at me. When I rolled over to look at him, he had this intense look of worry that made me feel guilty for causing him distress. He then rolled as close to me as he could and wrapped those chubby baby arms of his around my neck. He started softly patting the tears on my cheeks while nuzzling into my face. It was such a sweet, tender moment that couldn't stop more tears from silently streaming down into those perfect hands of his.  Rowan can have moments where he likes to cuddle, but he mostly wants to be on the move 24-7. Having him hold me in his own little way for those few minutes  was hugely significant. 

I share these moments because this month Rowan has become more difficult, but this sweet side is still the dominating part of his character. When he throws temper tantrums,( who knew seven month olds could throw temper tantrums?) he follows it by doing something so heart-wrenchingly sweet that I am blinded to the last few hours of difficulty. 

When I pictured my children, I always envisioned them when they were already small children or even teenagers. I don't know why, but I just didn't picture my future offspring as babies. I think part of that was I didn't really think that babies could have much personality. Babies developed personality through years of nurturing and different circumstances. It is so amazing to see that Rowan came with his own sweet, determined, and active personality. Even his birth should have clued me in that this kid is as far from being a push-over as anyone probably can be. He also came with an intense interest in others. I honestly didn't think this was possible of such a tiny human. I was looking at pictures of Row in the hospital and there he is staring up at anyone who is holding him with a loving, intense interest in them. I have seen this caring, kind side of him grow over the last seven months. I have seen the beginnings of that young man who comforted me while carrying him. I feel that same weighted love when I hear Rowan say "momma" over and over agin while staring delightedly at my face. 

I just feel so grateful everyday that this perfect soul chose this imperfect woman to be his mom. 

Happy seven months Rowboat! 

Hanging with his cute friend Addie

He loves to push both legs against me and "mountain goat" as I like to call it. He will essentially just stand on my chest and demand I walk him around while keeping my upper torso stable

We went to the firefighter museum in Toledo. During prime nap time of course.

A new outfit from his Ukranian sister

He LOVES these carts at the store. I feel bad using them up when someone with two kids or twins might come in, but it makes shopping a hundred times easier when he is happy. 

Baby yoga. He'll hate me for more than just naked internet bum shots someday