So we have been watching dogs for almost a year now. All kinds... different ages... breeds... sizes. Gotta be over 200 different dogs at this point. And there's one truth across the board. All the dogs that come in pairs...are awesome. They come into our home and it's easy...just two more pack members for the week. Some of them are so awesome, I cry when they leave. [Shoutout to Luna and Stella] I have to be honest though...the "only children dogs"?...they're weirdos. I know I'm going to catch flack for saying this, but I'm telling you...the dogs that don't have brothers or sisters...they're socially awkward. They either don't know how to play with other dogs, can't take social queues when a dog or person doesn't want to play with them or have severe social anxiety. We're talking if I leave the room...they whine, cry, yelp, bark, etc. Every single one of them...unless their owner socializes them a lot...but even still. Just this past week we've been watching two "only children dogs"...and it's been a shit show. I'm fairly certain that one of them doesn't know how to speak dog at all. Hasn't sniffed one butt. The other one has been growled at almost 37 times and still keeps badgering Willow. It's like...take a hint, dog.
The thought of ever having another kid makes me want to puke. I think Anthony and I have come to the conclusion that Killian is more than enough. Our family feels complete...and to do the last year over again? No thanks. But every time we watch an "only child dog"...I can't help but wonder.
ME AND MY BODY:
Mastitis cleared up, my hair is STILL falling out and that pregnancy numbness in my foot never went away. BUT…BUT I did get my nails done for the first time in like a year, so that was fun. I also may or may not have fallen asleep in the chair during my pedicure. What I'm saying is...I did fall asleep. What can I say? I can't resist the tiny asian hands and their magical foot rub powers. #ButWasAwkwardWhenTheyHadToWakeMeUp #WouldDoItAgain #LovelyShadeOfBreastmilkEh?
No matter what I give him lately, he takes a couple bites and starts pushing it out with his tongue. As soon as I switch to apples? gobble gobble gobble. I mean...I can’t just feed him apples for the rest of his life can I? Can I? No seriously...can I?
As far as the eating process goes…First I eliminated his clothing, because I was tired of getting food stains out. Then I eliminated all the cloth bibs, because I was tired of getting food stains out. So now he’s in nothing but a diaper and a silicon bib, yet somehow still manages to get food all over his body, the dogs, the floor. It’s truly an accomplishment…how a few tbsp of food can paint an entire room. Oh and I’ve officially found my least favorite thing about having a kid, besides the no sleep…it’s sticky hands. I can handle the poo, the pee, the puke…but sticky hands? gross, just gross. Pull yourself together, baby!
He’s back to sleeping through the night…maybe waking up once. Thank you sleep gods. I'm still failing at putting him to sleep sans boob or coddling. This sleepy not asleep thing does. not. work. As soon as I put him down…he cries and I have to start from scratch. I go into every nap feeling like a strong amazon woman...and by the end he's made me his bitch. Babies...they break you. #NapBitch #FreeMyNipple #HumanPacifier
HIGHLIGHT OF THE WEEK:
Anthony gave me a sex-free massage! [Apparently they actually exist] If you’re married you know what I’m talking about. Your husband asks, “Do you want a massage?”, which we ALL KNOW means “Want to have sex after a crappy 10 minute shoulder rub [where you can't even relax because you know he's sat there waiting for his moment to pounce]?” The Sex Massage <---------- the reason Killian is alive today. Well this weekend went like this...
A: Do you want a massage?
K: No I'm too tired.
A: For a massage?
K: No...for sex
A: Who said anything about sex?
K: ::gives him look like oh please::
A: No I'm serious...just a massage.
K: You're offering to give me a no strings attached massage AND I'm allowed to leave my house sans baby to get my nails did? Should I play the Powerball?!?!?!
LOW POINT OF THE WEEK:
Saturday night I was doing bath time with Killian, when Anthony says, “Your dad just texted me. He says call your mom right away.” When you’re old…these kinds of messages are the worst. It’s that horrible moment when you think about all people in your life…and get a pit in your stomach knowing something bad has happened to one of them. You think of older relatives, friends with illness…what you don’t think…is that your mom is calling to tell your your best friend from childhood died. Nope. You don’t expect that.
Chelsea and I were born one week apart. She July 11th…and me, July 18th. She was always the shy girl…and I, the loud outspoken friend…and often her defender. I remember one time in 3rd grade, being on the playground when some kids made fun of her for having freckles. She cried ...and I got so mad. I stayed up late that night trying to think of the coolest comeback in the world. The next day I marched onto the playground and was like Oh Jacob…guess what? Remember what you said about Chelsea's freckles yesterday? Ya well you’re just jealous because your face doesn’t have personality! Ooooooooo. #FeelTheBern Everyone was like wow, Kristen sure told him. lol
What I wouldn’t give to go back to that time in my life…the age of innocence. Way before I understood words like “stress”, “autopay” or “super delegate”. Simpler times; when we had no responsibilities. We just played Barbies and put on backyard concerts. That time period…’89-’94 living in Geilenkirchen, Germany... those memories…oh man. Some days those are the things that keep me going.
Over the years Chelsea and I drifted apart and went down two very different paths. To say the past decade has been difficult for her, would be an understatement. She battle addiction in a bad way. Every time she’d make it through…she seemed to get sucked back in. I can't help but feel guilty that I didn't stay in touch more…that I wasn’t there to protect her like I did all those years ago on the playground. And now that she's gone, what do I do? :/ All I know for certain ...is she's finally at peace...and the memories I have of her and I...will live forever. I wish people I loved would stop dying.
He put Killian in the bath with his diaper on…twice. He also started working out again. He said it was time for him to lose all his "pregnancy weight". #WhateverANTHONYDadBodsAreNotAThing
7 months? I've said it before and I'll say it again...Time is weird when you have a kid. Days feel like years. But months feel like seconds. Honestly…every day with Killian is an eternity, but then 7 months have gone by and now I'm like…didn’t I JUST give birth?
-Baby carrying on your back is a game changer. I've tried front carrying since birth, but it always led to me getting motorboated and then K crying until I feed him. But now that he's big enough to go on my back? I think I just got half my day back!
-He's way more stable. Not mentally...physically. Like when he leans to the side he doesn't topple over.
-Pulls himself up to sit. And twice in the bath, he's pulled himself up to stand. Can I just wrap him in a bubble? Maybe I should just buy a helmet and call it a day.
-One more week and he’ll master the crawl. I can feel it. I think the problem is…I don’t really have any space to let him practice. I’ll give him a few crawls and then I have to pull him back so he doesn’t grab the dog, go off the couch, or enter unsafe territory. It’d be fine if he just crawled, but he stops randomly and rolls over…and I have hardwood floors so I don’t want him hitting his head. Feels like I need a big empty room with a trampoline for a floor…with padding around the walls.
-The "wave heard round the world." On Saturday I started waving at Killian when I said, “Hi!” Figured I might as well start mixing things up and teaching stuff. He stared at me…did nothing. Sunday morning Anthony says, “Hi Killian!” And he waves back…and then waved all day lol Doesn’t sound like much but that felt like such a huge milestone. Like oh holy shit…he learned something…and retained it. He’s communicating. It was amazing.
QUESTIONS FOR YOU:
- What do I put on him when I take him swimming? obviously he can’t wear normal diapers. Commando?
- What do I put him in to sleep? He’s been wearing zipadee zips since birth, but at what point do I transition him into jammies?
- Do I brush his 2 teeth?
- How do I get this kid down for a nap without breastfeeding him?
- How long can I go without putting shoes on his feet? Like when does it become inappropriate for him to be barefoot?
- Did your baby like veggie baby food?
- Is there something I should be doing with him at this age? I feel like when he’s awake, he’s either in the bouncer, playing in the pack n play, in my arms, eating or crawling around terrorizing the dogs…but like mentally? Should I be reading him books or trying to teach him things? I’ve been doing sign language since birth, and I’m 100% positive he understands milk and diaper change, but he doesn’t sign back or acknowledge the others. I need ideas on what to do with my 7 month old baby lol
- What the hell is this? sunspots? Should I put him in a body suit when he leaves the house?
END OF THE WEEK THOUGHTS:
Killian doesn’t like normal baby things. He’s never liked pacifiers or being swaddled. He actually 100% rejects pacifiers. Even the suggestion irritates him. We swaddled him maybe 3 times in his life. He screamed bloody murder until we released his hands. He’s never sucked his thumb. He could care less about the tv. He doesn’t like books. Every time I try to read to him, he tries to close the book and stick it in his mouth and/or poke his eye.. He’s only recently decided he’s ok with a baby carrier. But for the past 7 months he’s refused it. He doesn't like be held, hugged or snuggled. All these things that babies love…he’s just not that into. Basically he likes jumping and eating apples. And playing with Shelby. That's about it. I’m quickly realizing I don’t have much to do with the person he was born as. I can guide him. But his opinions, his likes, his dislikes…it’s all him.