Sawyer is walking.  Huzzah!

When he feels like it, that is.

Jack is in an after-school running club called the Stallion Stampede.  The kids' miles are tallied annually and also linked with their membership to Marathon Kids, an AMAZING local charity that just received funding from Nike and is going BIG TIME!

He's pretty fast.

As for me, I am on the mend.  Roughly two weeks ago, I underwent emergency surgery to repair a ruptured ectopic pregnancy, which happened despite the fact that my tubes were tied.  That's both rare and dangerous.  The good news is that I'm on the road to recovery. 

Hope you step toward a goal today.

Talk soon,
Heather

this is one

We had a tiny little party for Sawyer.  We invited some close friends and their kiddos.  We had donuts and breakfast tacos, and maybe a mimosa here or there.

Jack held court on his new playset in the backyard the way only a five year old big brother with a new playset can.

Sawyer was the object of unbridled affection from two of his buddies.

And he got awesome presents.

Haircut time!  Look at those flowing locks!
(Not to be outdone by his flowing nostrils.
What's up cold and flu season?)

It was perfect.  And yes, I had favor boxes.  And yes, there was a theme (Dr. Seuss).  But I did NOT overthink it, overplan it, or over stress it.

We are all learning all the time, aren't we?

Hope some cuties give you the eye today.

Talk soon,
Heather

the one with things on our heads

There is an oddball Davies family tradition of putting your beer on your head when someone wants to take your picture.  (And you happen to have a beer.)

I recently told someone that I am pretty normal.  Shortly thereafter, I took it back.  I am not normal, nor do I wish to be.

Anyway, the best beer on head picture is of my sisters and I at Southside 815 in Alexandria, Virginia. We are all grinning like fools and holding our beers on our heads.

It was New Years Eve.  I don't remember the year, but I *think* I was underage.  (Go, me!  I mean ... Well, I'm not running for President.  So yeah.  Go, me!)  

Anyway, our dear friend and honorary sister, Beth G., wanted to take a picture of us.  We're not all together that often.  

We all put our beers on our heads.  No discussion.  No plan.  No good reason, in fact.  

In my book, you don't need a reason to put something on your head.  

I'll post the picture when I find it.  

*     *     *     *     *

Sawyer got the memo about putting things on your head.  He's far too young for beer, but he's happy to improvise.

Hope you aren't normal today.

Talk soon,

Heather

in a word

Hope you enjoy something musical today.

Talk soon,
Heather

so long, 2014

2014 was hard.  And good.  And scary.  And funny.  And challenging.  And rewarding. 

Here's to 2015, may it be all of those things and more.  Because that's life, and it's wonderful.

Hope you get a drum set this year.

Talk soon,
Heather

compare and contrast

Jack at roughly eight months:

Yellow?  Blue? Which one?  I DON'T KNOW!

Sawyer at eight months:

L.  I.  V.  I.  N.

I will say this:  I think different personalities are emerging.  As well as different looks.

Hope your own observations entertain you today, too.

Talk soon,

Heather

the eyes have it

When Jack was a baby, his eyes were brilliantly blue.  Like, in a "do recessive genes really work that well?," "holy shit look at those!" kind of way.

See?

Jack, Blue Steel, 6 months old

Also, I apparently really liked that outfit.

I had read just enough books while pregnant with Jack to be both clueless and opinionated.  I tried to deter people from getting too excited about his eyes because I was pretty damn sure that the color would change.

I was wrong.  (You can ask Durel.  I don't say that a lot.  The words just don't feel right, somehow.)

Still blue.

Dude.  Mom.  Chill.

Now, there's Sawyer.  And it's become something of a competitive sport to identify who Sawyer resembles, particularly how much he does (or doesn't) look like Jack, me, or Durel.

My mom insists that "he just looks like Sawyer."  That is kind of her.  We all smile when she says that.  And then we resume trying to dissect what, of his six month old features, we can distinguish in ourselves.

So far, we all agree that Sawyer's eyes, while massive pools of philosophical baby wisdom, are not blue any longer.

We also agree that his pesky hemangioma is getting smaller (under the talented and watchful eye of his pediatric dermatologist) and that he has far more hair than Jack at this age.  (See above.)

Dude.  Bro.  Chill.

And that instead of Blue Steel, perhaps he's working on Brown StinkEye.

Only time will tell.

Hope you observe some distinctions and differences today.

Talk soon,
Heather

in like a lion and in like a lamb

Much to Jack's delight, he and Sawyer now attend the same school.  This school follows our local public school calendar, so the new year starts on Monday.  

(This is one of the times when my Maryland upbringing makes me feel baffled by Texas.  School NEVER started in August when I was growing up.  Not to mention that it was 102 degrees today.  When is the season for apples and pencils and jackets?  Sigh.)

Anyway, also much to Jack's delight, he will be an official big kid starting on Monday.  He will be in Pre-K.  He will be, in school parlance, a Lion.  His fellow Pre-K kids will also be in the Jaguars and Cheetahs classrooms.  They are clearly the most sophisticated students in the school.

The promotion to Lion comes after Jack's successful year as a Dolphin.  I attempted to document Jack's last day as a Dolphin photographically.  I was rebuffed.

Sawyer, in contrast, is a Lamb.  And he will continue to be a Lamb on Monday.  Far from his fierce and sophisticated Lion brother, Sawyer is still cuddly.

Though apparently, based on sartorial clues, he aspires to be a Tiger.  I guess we'll have to see.

(Side note:  Does anyone else think that Sawyer looks EXACTLY LIKE MY MOM?)

I hope your day involves both cuddles and sophistication.

Talk to you soon.
Heather

he has us just where he wants us

When Jack turned one, I remember feeling like I had climbed Mount Everest.

You know, that "I did it!  Holy shit!  How did I do that?  It was hard!  And I did it!" kind of feeling. 

I remember my first year as a mother as a delightful trial.  It is, in my memory, both hazy and crystal clear, an experience both hard and gently instinctive.

Sawyer is five months old today.  And pardon me for getting ahead of myself, but that means next month he will be six months old, which is half a year, which means that time is flying, which means that before I know it, he'll be a year old, and I sort of don't feel like I'm climbing Mount Everest this time.

Which is not to say that Sawyer has been easy.  Nope.

But I guess he has us where he wants us.  Jack is wrapped around his little finger.  The dogs rush up to greet him every morning when I open the door to the nursery.  His teachers are smitten.  My heart did a Grinch-like expansion to make room for all the love I have for this kid.  Durel beams with pride at his two little dudes.

And Sawyer, well, he seems pleased with us, too.

Swag.

Hope you get all your ducks in a row today.

Talk soon,

Heather

i wanna cry and roll all night

...and party every day.

Sawyer is a whopping four and a half months old.  Crap.  On the 13th, he will be five months old.  How did that happen?

He is now adept at rolling over.  He also weighs 15 pounds.  The combination of these facts means that we are DONE with swaddling.  Done.  

I will miss you, Miracle Blanket.

Despite the fact that I love sleeping on my stomach (and heartily missed it during both of my pregnancies), Sawyer is not currently so inclined.  He also seems to think that night time should be an all you can eat buffet. I disagree.

We are crying it out, people.

It's very serious.

Hope you can stare down someone with your best intentions in mind today.

Talk soon,
Heather

sawyer update

Sawyer is, quite simply, an awesome baby.

Here's proof:

-- He wakes up once a night to feed and goes straight back to sleep.  While I look forward to him sleeping through the night, this is pretty decent of him.

-- He giggles.  That's the best sound in the world.

-- He weighs 14 pounds, 12 ounces.  Not too shabby for a preemie.

-- He farts.  And apparently I'm a six year old boy, because that is HILARIOUS to me.

-- He's still allergic to dairy.  But I don't mind.  The only thing I miss is pizza, and I don't need to be eating pizza anyway.

-- He is about to roll over.  He makes it onto his side and then flails a bit with his legs.  Any day now, that flail will turn into a flip and it'll be a milestone.  Jack has taken it upon himself to work with Sawyer on rolling over.  Being a big brother requires you to step up, you know.

-- He is Batman.  (Oh, and he grasps things!)

I hope you use your super powers today.

Talk soon,
Heather

in the dark of nap

I think it takes an angelic personality to care for babies all day.  (I mean, a poopy diaper is one thing.  But multiple poopy diapers a day?  Times like six babies?  Oy vey.  I repeat, angelic.)

Luckily, Sawyer's teacher has just that personality.  Durel and I think she's completely awesome.

Jack is usually too shy to talk to her, though he can't take his eyes off her.  I suspect Jack thinks she's completely awesome, too.

Sawyer's face lights up at the sound of her voice, and in the dark of nap time, he makes faces at her.

Apparently, the family vote on her awesomeness is unanimous.

Hope someone makes your face light up today.

Talk soon,
Heather

queso, wherefore art thou queso?

I didn't know about chile con queso until I moved to Austin in 2001.  I'm not sure how the opportunity to order a bowl of melted cheese in a restaurant (and eat it in public, without judgment) had escaped me for that long.  I've been making up for lost time ever since.

From Homesick Texan.  Disregard the sound of me, weeping.

That is, until two weeks ago.

My sweet angel of a newborn, Sawyer, is allergic to milk protein.  This happens to some babies; it's different than lactose intolerance; they usually outgrow it by age 1, if not age 3.  Fine.

What that means is that I cannot have any food with milk protein in it.  It also means that I cannot have any food with casein or whey protein in it.

[long pause]

UGH.

And so, as I mentioned, it has been two weeks of a Dairy-Free Heather.  Here are the highlights:

-- I don't miss cheese as much as I thought I would.

-- I haven't killed anyone!

-- Coconut milk creamer is awesome.

-- Almond milk yogurt is NOT awesome.

-- I miss yogurt more than I thought I would.

-- Thank God for peanut butter.

-- There is NO DAIRY in Oreos.  (Stop and think about that for a moment...)

-- I really like celery.  Plain.

-- Vegan chocolate chips are expensive.

-- I am not likely to make vegan chocolate chip cookies.

-- I like Lara bars.  Especially the blueberry ones.

The most important observation is that Sawyer is flourishing with my new diet.  His cheeks are rosy.  He's smiling.  His, um, digestion is vastly improved, shall we say.  (That is also how we diagnosed there was a problem.  It was in his diaper.  I'll leave it at that.)

Happier than Pharrell to be dairy-free.

I'm also avoiding as much soy as possible.  I am having NO dairy at all, and as little soy as I can.  Damn, Gina.  Soy is in EVERYTHING.  

We were already drinking almond milk at our house.  No big change there.

When you completely rule out dairy, you get really hungry, really fast.  

To be clear, I don't think formula is the devil.  But I do know that the formula that is both soy and dairy-free is approximately the price of our mortgage.  And that I can create milk for free, and it's better.

Also, yesterday I would have kicked a puppy for a cheese pizza.  And then, I saw Sawyer, that little bundle of dairy free awesomeness, and I didn't give a shit (pun not intended) about pizza.

Hope you do what you have to do today.

Talk soon,
Heather

what preemie?

This morning, Sawyer sat on Jack until he begged for mercy.

Sawyer doesn't really look like a preemie, does he?  In fact, I think he looks more like he is (1) outgrowing that onesie, which is a 6 month size, and (2) going to play rugby in college.

Jack, on the other hand, is more of a tennis player, I think.

Hope your calling is apparent today.

Talk soon,
Heather

big brotherisms

Jack has decided that Sawyer looks like him, and that he looks like Sawyer.  This is endlessly pleasing to him.

I dug up some pictures of Jack at this age (pre-head control but ever so cute) to see how similar they are.

What do you think?  (They're easy to tell apart because of Sawyer's pesky hemangioma, but take a gander.)

Wiggles Lafitte, aka Sawyer.

Jack, featuring Ironic Onesie #1.

Jack, featuring Ironic Onesie #2.

Sawyer, preferring oxymorons to irony.

*     *     *     *     *

Aside from the unbearable joy of birthday parties, aging is a bit complex for four year old Jack.

After Sawyer's first week at daycare, Jack thought he would walk.  I am pretty sure Jack wanted Sawyer to morph into a four year old playmate, and I think that is heartrendingly adorable.

Ever the pragmatist, when that didn't happen, Jack adjusted his expectations.  So much so that when I asked him the other day what he wants to do when he grows up, he responded: 

"Feed Sawyer with a bottle.  Daddy does that.  When I get big, I want to do that."

He also wants to be a vet, but priorities, people.

*     *     *     *     *

Quick note regarding hemangiomas (or unexplained red bumps on my son's head).  They're harmless, unexplained vascular tumors that shrink and go away.  They're often called "strawberries" or "stork bites."  (Which is weird because ouch! stork!)  We have been assured that Sawyer's will go away, and I daresay we don't even really see it anymore.

I've told Jack's inquisitive classmates that it's a cross between a birthmark and a boo boo, and that it will go away.  One of his friends has thoughtfully told me upon repeat inspection that she's sure it's getting smaller.  (It's not, but Addie, you are a dear.)

The general public, however, does see it.  The best question I have been asked is this one, by a wonderfully innocent young man:

"Oh!  Did he get into a fight with another baby?"

Nope.  He didn't.  But when he does, I bet he'll win.

Hope your questions are innocent today.

Talk soon,
Heather

there shall be poo

Before Jack arrived, I was given this golden nugget of parenting advice:

If the blow-out is too bad, throw the onesie away.

When blow-outs happen, they scramble your brain.  You don't want to do what you know you have to do.  You panic nonsensically that you might have to use like TEN WIPES.  You don't understand why you went to graduate school.  It didn't prepare you for this.  Nothing has.  And how does the baby choose THAT MOMENT to smile at you, looking so pleased with himself?

I've shared the advice.  I've had friends come back to me and thank me for it.  Because their babies' blow-outs scrambled their brains, too, and the one clear thought they could muster was that it's okay to toss the bit of cotton and snaps that probably came from Target.  You don't have to clean it.  You are already demeaning yourself enough.

*     *     *     *     *

Sawyer and I took Jack to the dentist the other day.  He chose that moment to have a massive blow-out.  And, with the grit and determination of a second time mother, I cleaned it up and saved the onesie.  Because it's the fancy onesie with Texas and the guitar on it.

When you finish that selfie, you will realize that I have just shit in your lap, Mom.
I love you.

Sawyer was pretty pleased with himself.

Sawyer:  One
Mama:  Zero

Hope your dignity remains intact today.

Talk soon,
Heather

to sleep or not to sleep

Sleep is so awesome.

From what I remember.

OK, that's not entirely fair.  Sawyer is sleeping pretty well.  He's doing extremely well when you consider that he was a preemie.  And Durel takes a night feeding every night, because he's awesome like that.

Regardless, being woken by a screaming imp at 3 AM totally stinks.  No matter how cute the imp is.  No matter how good the coffee tastes.  No matter how much you like the quiet stillness of the morning when it's just you and your vanilla-scented baby.

Sawyer is perplexed by my deep desire to sleep during the nighttime hours, uninterrupted.

You want me to sleep through the night?
Mother.  I'm doing the best I can here.
Eat, sleep, poop, smile, repeat.  It's a lot to remember.

However, he is open to discussion on the topic.  He attempts to sway me with his amazing cuteness.

I'm cute, right?  Doesn't that help?
Like, so cute that 3 AM is totally fine?

Ultimately, we reach a BATNA.  I cannot accept less than this, but I can work with this.

I know, I know.  I'll work on it.
And yes, I am so awesome.

Hope you get to yes today.

Talk soon,
Heather

the unbearable cuteness of being

One of the questions I am getting most these days is:  "How is Jack handling being a big brother?"

People are asking because getting a sibling can cause a chemical reaction.  That reaction can be cool and interesting, like the requisite science class volcano eruption experiment.  Or, the reaction can be uncool and scary, like whatever happened to The Joker's face.

Luckily for us, even though we do love Batman in our family, Sawyer has been welcomed into Jack's world with open arms.  

Jack wants to change his diapers (no); help to bathe him (OK); teach him to walk (eventually); and help us to drop him off and pick him up at school each day (OK, but please hurry up putting your shoes back on).

Despite knowing deep down what a good heart Jack has, I had visions of eye-poking and "accidental" hitting when the baby arrived.

I should have known better.

Hope you get to cuddle with someone you adore today.

Talk soon,
Heather

Woah, dude.

Sawyer turned two months old yesterday!  He's great.  Completely and utterly great.

And no, he's not going to Yoko Ono this blog.  He would never do that.

For Jack, life is currently about two things:  Star Wars and Sawyer.  When Sawyer thoughtfully surprised Jack with this shirt as a gift for being such a great big brother, the synthesis of these two great things was mind-blowing.

This moment rocks so hard, I can't even put my arms down.

Jack has also been picking out his own outfits and having a serious blast at school, especially on popsicle day.

For Sawyer, life is about eating and sleeping and GROWING.

Before, he had one chin:

Put down the camera.  I am busy growing more chins.

I am dreaming of additional chins that I might like to have some day.

Booya.

Other than that, I've observed a few things about motherhood the second time around.  You are less worried about every little thing.  You are more inclined to throw the onesie away in the event of a four star blowout.  You are just as carried away by love.

Hope you get carried somewhere today.

Talk soon,
Heather

and then...

Sawyer arrived.

He was early.  We were ready.  And we are happy.

Jack is already showing the signs of being a caring and perceptive big brother.  He wanted to make sure that Sawyer liked Star Wars, and that he could have dessert if he "finished all his milk."

We assured him that one of his most important jobs as big brother is to make sure Sawyer knows about the good things in life, and that he was right on the money with Star Wars and dessert.  Because, obviously.

Hope someone has your back today.

Talk soon,
Heather