Above average

Yesterday at the doctors office I had a slight twinge of hope that all of the crawling, and moving around this little chubster does, would have helped him out in the weight gain department. But who are we kidding here? I'm raising a son. He has two not very small parents. And he's been big from day one. So, hello 99.7 percentile for weight, you don't surprise me. Twenty-five solid pounds people. Twenty. Five.

I'm pretty certain he was only in the 49th percentile for height, but I'm also pretty certain they measured him wrong since they said he was the exact same height as he was at a check-up at the beginning of January, and I'm almost certain he's a little taller now, seeing that his pants are increasingly becoming shorter on him. But whatever, for now we'll just own that we have a short fat kid, and love him all the more for it.

The doctor told me not to get my hopes up of him walking anytime soon, she said with how big he is, it may take him awhile. Poor boy. His abilities are already being doubted by people. We'll see if he proves her wrong, but lets be honest, I have a feeling he's just fine with crawling and is in no rush to change up his mode of transportation anytime soon.

John asked me if I think we'll always have a fat kid? He thinks it would be fun. Aren't fat kids always the funny ones anyway? It would kind of be hysterical, but sad. And I'd hate that we'd be contributing to the childhood obesity epidemic. But for now it's just funny. For now. 

On the plus side, he talks up a storm, so, while we may have a fat kid on our hands, at least we really do have a fat funny one for the time being. So, we'll just continue to think that that theory remains true. Fat kids have more fun...or are at least funny that is.

We smoothie

I'm praying I don't have a picky eater on my hands, then again, what kid doesn't go through a picky phase at some point or another, so, I guess I should just prepare myself for it, and pray it's a short duration. Once upon a time our little man would eat any and everything in sight...as if that wasn't already obvious just by looking at him. We love the chub! But, somewhere along the way, he grew out of that love for everything, and now he picks and chooses what goes in his mouth, which tends to be anything but vegetables these days. So much so that the moment a vegetable even enters his mouth, he screams and shouts voicing his absolute disapproval.

So, we disguise.

Enter green smoothies. No day in this house is complete without a green smoothie or two. My day is seriously thrown off when I don't have one to kick things off with in the morning. Thank goodness this little one is about as obsessed with them as I am. He gets excited when he hears the blender going, and even more excited when he sees the cup coming straight for his mouth. So, if it's not for youtube videos distracting him while we force some veggies into his mouth, green smoothies have been my saving grace. It tricks him every time!

I'd leave you with a few of my favorites, but really, every day we're trying something new. Toss a carrot in here, some kale in there, spinach always, and some fruit and coconut water/milk to top it off. Maybe if we're feeling zesty we'll throw in some celery or cucumbers, too, you just never know what we're going to end up with. It's hit and miss at times, but thankfully, even the nasty smoothies Preston downs like it's the best thing he's ever had. So, we smoothie. Every day. And it's satisfying.

Do you have any smoothie recipes that are a must?

The better life

 

What is it about children that brings the happiness out of others? Their innocence? Being pure? Their angelic character? I love that children have a way of making things right in the world, of making people act how we all should act, always.

Before having a baby, I'd run my errands, go shopping, stop by the post office, go to the gym, and I was invisible to the world. Maybe people noticed me, there were the occasional hit ons that always made me feel good, but for the most part, it was me, doing my own thing, and rarely was I, or anyone else paid much attention to. But the moment you start doing all of those things with a child in your arms, the world emerges, and the smiles, the hellos, and the cheerful greetings are exchanged.

I'm amazed how many strangers I have conversations with, daily. I find it interesting how many people I come across who have a somber look on their face until the babbling and squawking begin, and then it's only seconds until that somber look becomes a smile, and you're no longer invisible to them, either.

Children make things right in the world. They just do.

I walked into the post office the other morning, and the moment I got in line the man in front of me turned and said "now that just makes your day better" that referring to seeing a precious, innocent, little boy in my arms. "it doesn't matter what kind of day you're having," he continued, "that right there just makes everything right in the world."

Amen.

I don't care if we're having a fussy day, a near flawless day, or a day that makes me want to pull my hair out, because we have all of those, and more. But, having my baby to hang out with all day long is enough to make everything right in the world. Always. The rest is just a bonus, depending on which way you look at it.

And then he grew up

The pointing. The exciting squeals when an animal is in sight. The constant chatter. The "woah's" and the "yeah's", the "mama" and the "dada" mixed with all of the gibberish in between. The getting into everything. The crawling. The whining for attention. The love of food. The sad whimpers when he gets hurt. The belly laughs. The cruising. And that priceless look on his face when I walk into the room. I know I still have a baby on my hands, but seeing how much he's changed in just nine months, I'm afraid of what the next nine will bring. Walking? Talking? Sassing much? Yes, yes, and I'm almost positive. After all, he is MY child.

Happy nine months little man, may the next nine, and forever more, be just as fun, just as challenging, and just as rewarding as the first nine. You rock our world! 

This is happening

I skipped out on the gym today when I realized it was going to be in the 60's. 60's in February! No cloud in the sky! How do you run at the gym when the weather is perfect out? You, er I, don't! So, outside we went to enjoy the warm weather. I'm not sure who loved the run more, but the squeals and constant chatter from the stroller would be an equal contender to my shorts and tank-top loving self.  It was heavenly.

It's amazing what can happen in under an hour, like, for instance, you're house gets put on the market. We came home to this in our front yard, and then it dawned on me, all of the scrubbing, the dusting, the reorganizing, the moping, the decluttering, the sweeping, the mopping, and on and on and on that we did this past weekend, really is for a purpose...aside from living in a super clean home. We really ARE moving this year. We really ARE selling our house. And change really IS coming. Ready or not.

Our weekend was spent getting our house ready for this to happen today, but I guess I didn't really think much of it until I saw a for sale sign in our front lawn. And then it hit me, our time in Oklahoma is almost over, for good! And I have a little secret for you, I secretly love this place and I'm really sad to leave. John thinks I'm nuts. And maybe I am. I did in fact just admit I loved Oklahoma.

Here's to hoping our house sells before we move. That we don't lose money. And that this will be a painless process. One can only hope, right?

Routines

Lately life seems to land me in my bed by 8pm with a bowl full of edamame, a smoothie, a blanket, and this addicting thing here called my laptop. My house is quiet. The day is almost over. And I sit in bed and unwind from a long day of snuggling and playing with my little one. John's gone again. And this has become my routine.

It's nice not having to cook dinner. It's nice to do my own thing. It's nice to have a little peace and quiet to a day that usually isn't so. It's nice to have me time. Me time that a mom rarely gets. It's nice that at 8pm, I'm selfish, and it's time to myself.

But, as nice as a quiet house is. As nice as it is to be lazy at night. And as nice as it is have an entire bed to myself, I much prefer to have my husband home, hanging out with me, despite what he thinks. He thinks I enjoy when he's gone, and that's only partly true. The other part of me hates it.