Happy Birthday Beautiful

You have to love how self-indulgent a blog can be. That being said...

Owen is now two months old. So rather than writing the semi-planned post venting about vacuuming, vaccines, pertussis, pacifiers, etc., I'm going to make a list of my 64 favorite things about my son. Well, I'll try to cut back a little, but no promises.

In no particular order:

1. His fatty goodness- He's doubled his birthweight and is busting out of 3 month clothing. There's so much chubbiness in even his little hands, that when he makes a fist, they become perfectly spherical, fat globes. That's pretty good considering the long, skinny fingers and wrinkly old man hands he had at birth. Fatty goodness includes the obligatory chubby cheeks, plus delightful double to triple chins and the disappearance of his neck. While this makes bathtime a bit harder, it's dang cute. That boy's got more rolls than a bakery.

2. All-time eating champion - Obviously related to the above, Owen is a fantastic eater. I enjoy how frantic he gets as he tries to root and think it's hilarious how I can't cradle hold him unless he's getting some food. Even the Bjorn is too much of tease for him sometimes. He's also a very efficient eater...chug chug chug....straight for five minutes and then cry until I put him on the other side....chug chug chug....and he's spent. I will say, today he actually paused while eating to look up and smile at me. Then it was right back to business. Since one of his arms is draped around me as he nurses, Owen will rub my side with his hand. It's like a little, "Gee, thanks for being my only source of sustenance, Mom." I appreciate that.

3. Love/Hate relationship with swaddling - Like many newborns, Owen loved to be our little enchilada, safely tucked into a receiving blanket. A few weeks ago, he rose against the tyranny of swaddling and now insists on wiggling out at least one, if not both, of his arms. Strangely enough, if I swaddle him incredibly tightly when he's overtired, and prevent him from getting his arms out, he will still fall asleep.

4. Diaper changing hilarity - I know it's terrible but I think its comedic gold when he pees on his face as I'm changing him. There's a bit of shock, a little smacking, and then he cries and cries. Hilarious. Also, to keep him entertained during the many diaper changes throughout the day, I jimmy-rigged a pull-toy to hang above his head. That sounds dangerous, but he loves it. As I'm picking up his legs to wipe him he'll try to kick at it, then watch and smile as it swings back and forth.

5. John J. Ceiling Fan - Owen's best friend in the world is the ceiling fan: preferably the one in the living room, but the one in his bedroom is growing in his favor as well. At a very young age (comparatively), Owen became mesmerized with the ceiling fan. This happened during the first month, when allegedly he could only see a foot in front of him. Mind you, we have vaulted ceilings. Since that time, his love has only grown. In the morning, I'll lay him on his blanket ("playmat" as we call it) and he'll stare at John J. and start smiling. Then laughing. He flings up his arms and kicks his feet in ecstatic joy at the sight of his buddy. If we turn the fan on, forget about it, it's like Christmas. Or at least how he'll feel about Christmas once he gets to experience it. Sure, Owen will smile at me and has laughed a few times, but the ceiling fan holds the key to his heart. I'm okay with this, as John J. has been a wonderful balm during Owen's recent sickness. I have an adorable video of Owen pathetically coughing until he catches a sight of his best friend. Soon he's smiling and flailing about. I guess the ceiling fan's just really comforting in times of need.

6. Crying face - Speaking of times of need, I'm pretty sure our baby has colic. He freaks out between 7-9 p.m. almost every night. Does that mean colic? I don't know. I always thought colic was a cop-out excuse for a cantankerous kid, but Owen really is a happy baby most times. But the witching hour(s) hits him hard and it becomes very difficult to soothe him. I've found that giving him a bath at this time helps, since he adores a bit of splashing about, and Daddy doing bicep curls with the baby works great. In any case, we can almost guarantee a crying spurt each evening. The problem is his crying face is so dang cute. I mean, it's hard to become stressed or angry when your baby looks precious when he's wailing. It seems borderline cruel, but yes, I enjoy how he looks when he cries. Sure, I feel bad for him, and I try to allay any discomforts. But the fact remains, that little frown just melts my heart.

7. Morning Routine - We have a nice system where he has his morning feeding and then settles down for a quick nap with mama and sometimes papa. I don't generally condone the "family bed"- at least in our house - but in the mornings, Owen usually gets to hang out with us. We're careful with blankets, pillows, etc., but it's sweet to have him there. Then we get out of bed and take adorable pictures of him. Subset to morning routine, I love how he wakes up: the slow blinks, the eye rub, the huge stretch and amazing back arch. Love it. Owen is totally a morning person. Once he is up after his cat-nap, he's all-star baby. That's when he is most smiley and interactive.



Woah guys, this is getting long for only seven items thus far. No one is still reading most likely. Well then...

8. How he rubs his hair as he sucks his thumb
9. The crazy noises he makes
10. How he laughs when Zach rubs his face with a hat
11. How he sleeps best on my chest
12. When he quiets down when we sing "Shiny Happy People" obnoxiously loud
13. How he would much rather go without a diaper
14. When he sleeps with one hand over his face
15. When he sleeps with both arms in the air
16. When he sleeps
17. How he dislikes for the top of his stroller to be closed
18. When he sucks on his whole fist/tries really hard to find his thumb
19. When he nuzzles hard and purposefully until he burrows into just the right spot on my neck
20. When he's been fussing and fussing, and I take him in my arms, cuddle him close, and look at his big eyes. And he poops the loudest, wettest, biggest poop yet.

Happy Birthday Poopie.