On life with Baby H (who doesn't actually live at my house, to be clear, but is HERE, in my immediate family, and is shifting the landscape a bit):
- Something about seeing The Baby makes Asher lose. his. mind. He does fine when he's around The Baby, but afterward, he is alternately desperately needy and /or desperately misbehaving, and just generally desperate. Brian and I are guessing that A New Baby in the Family causes some sort of visceral sibling-esque reaction, a remembrance of things past. As a result I am digging up new stores of patience. Insert deep breath here.
- Perception really is everything. The picture below, taken this afternoon, marks the moment when Silas officially became a humongous babyzilla who must surely be capable of frying his own eggs and driving himself to the park. As of this moment, he is no longer The Baby.
Like I said, the landscape shifted. Right in front of the camera.
- Here are a few other pictures of Baby H, as requested by Elizabeth. He is every bit as beautiful as you would expect him to be.
- And my sister is a natural mama. I'm not at all surprised, but something about watching my baby sister morph into a mother is an experience I don't know how to accurately describe. So I'll just say that it is good.
On life with Silas:
- Silas and food. Just putting those two words together makes me want to sigh. He cannot eat any (at all, ever) oats, dairy, sweet potatoes, or cinnamon. (Keep in mind that ruling out dairy typically means ruling out almost any baked good, and no oats means no granola bars or cereals). Red dye causes him to break out (which rules out sausage, hot dogs - not that we eat them anyway, but still - many medications, and most popsicles and sweets), soy upsets his stomach. Clearly Silas's options for meals are limited. And now he has decided that He Has An Opinion about what he eats. The boy will not touch one bean. Not a single one. The other night Brian added a SINGLE black bean to his mound of grilled chicken, just to see if he would notice, and His Majesty located it and spit it directly out of his mouth. He's also tired of sandwich meat, and will only eat peanut butter if it is spread very thin and he's in a good mood. He throws his rice milk, drops avocado over the side of the high chair, lets carrots fall out of his mouth. I'm honestly running out of ideas. I can usually swing dinner and snacks, but breakfast and lunch are hard. How many scrambled eggs or whole wheat bagels can one child eat? And it's only a matter of time before he becomes bored with those as well, and then what will I do? Silas and food, Silas and food ...
- And now I will tell you the very cutest Silas story ever.
Asher had just seen The Baby, and was consequently melting into a puddle on the floor. I was holding him in the recliner, hoping proximity to me might right his world a little. But late afternoon is normally Silas's time to be held, and he came toddling over to me, arms outstretched, hopeful. "No, baby," I said. "Brother needs a little privacy. Go choose a toy." So rather than throwing himself to the floor (which is what would typically happen), he was resourceful. Silas walked into the kitchen where Brian was working, took his finger, and tugged him toward the living room. Brian followed his lead to the living room rug. He sat down, and Silas climbed into his lap, then rested his head against Brian's chest. He was determined to have some time in somebody's lap, and since mine was already claimed, he found another. So cute.
And with that I'm off. Thanks for sticking with me - it looks like I had a lot to tell you guys tonight. Enjoy your evening.