Smooth Move(s), Mama.

*Disclaimer - those with weak stomachs should proceed with caution.

Oh, man, doctor's appointments can be brutal.

We took Ethan in today for his 9 month check up. The experience was probably doomed from the beginning, as his appointment was scheduled for 4:00. Those of you who are familiar with my color-coded, spreadsheet-worthy, regimented sleep schedule (and really, who among you haven't memorized it?) know that Ethan's afternoon nap starts at 3:30. Sharp(ish). So why, you may ask, did we schedule the appointment for 4:00? It's definitely not because that time is best for my schedule. Surely I didn't choose my wants and needs over those of my baby.

Not me.

As one could predict, 4:00 came and went, as did 4:10, 4:20, and 4:30, and we were still sitting in the waiting room (one of us spent those thirty minutes eyballing everyone who coughed, obsessing about swine flu... guess which parent that was). We had done everything but stand on our heads to keep Ethan from a major meltdown. For the record, when he's tired Ethan is not amused by an aquarium full of fish, a handful of Cheerios, Mama's silly faces, or those toys that EVERY pediatrician's office has with the wooden beads that you push along the twisted wires. Harried and out of ideas, I finally went up to the receptionist and asked how much longer the wait was. Three people were still ahead of us. Yikes.

I explained that we only had a few minutes before my baby would turn the peaceful, fish-tank-bubbling ambient sounds of the waiting room into the background track of a horror movie, and begged that she do whatever she could to move things along. After not so subtly suggesting that it was somehow our fault for choosing the 4:00 appointment time (a comment that my rightfully-so perturbed husband couldn't let slip by without a justified retort), she said she would see what she could do. We were called a few minutes later. It's a good thing, too, because I had already decided that I would move closer to the reception window if Ethan started wailing.

The nurse came in right away to weigh (23 lbs.) and measure (29 in.) him, and assured us that the doctor would be in shortly. She was. As usual, she had glowing reviews about Ethan's development, and baby big boy got a clean bill of health. There was only one more hurdle left - the most dreaded one of all - a needle. Well, two needles, to be exact. In addition to an immunization (yes, I do work with kids with autism, and yes, we did decide to vaccinate our child), he also needed a blood test. One "simple" finger prick later and Ethan's little baby hand was gushing an adult amount of blood. While he was screaming, the nurse fumbled with the bandage before giving up and asking me to apply pressure instead. She moved on to the shot, which was met with the same amount of crying, albeit a lot less gory. His finger still bleeding, she finally applied a band-aid and rushed from the room. We followed quickly behind.

Now a fully 90 minutes past nap time, battle-worn and hungry, Ethan was loaded into the car. I hesitated for a moment, deciding whether or not it would be a good idea to take off his bandage for the ride home. What was the bigger risk - blood on the car seat, or an ingested band-aid? I chose to keep it on, which was probably the wrong call... within two minutes of pulling out of the parking lot I heard the sound of what I would later learn was my baby sucking all of the blood out of his band-aid. Ew.

Hey, at least it was organic.

To the Beach, Okay?

Can anyone besides Ryan identify that quote? Anyone?

My King Prawn Muppet-adoring husband (Google it, people!) suggested we escape the heat wave by venturing out to Baker Beach on Sunday. For the very first time, Ethan watched the waves crash on the shore, smelled the salty air, and ate the felt the sand between his fingers. He seemed fascinated with the new sights and sounds, and squealed with delight when the water washed over his feet.







The sun, surf, and sand made for one super spectacular day!

Round and Round He Goes...

Sure, he may look sweet and innocent
with a childlike curiosity for his surroundings
but do not be fooled, this baby is a MONSTER
who leaves in his wake a path of destruction
because that's how he rolls. Literally.

Babies Look Cute Dressed As Old Men

I realized that I haven't done an Ethan stats update in a while, so here's a quick run-down:

- Weighs at least 22 lbs. (as of last weigh in about two weeks ago) and is at least 27 inches long (as of last measurement two months ago)
- Has had his diaper changed more than 1560 times (and yes, fellow mommies, my husband DOES do diapers and is responsible for changing at least 1/2 of those!)
- Is not crawling yet, but can roll across rooms to get anywhere he wants to be (will employ snazzy 3-point turns if he needs to change directions)
- Doing lots of babbling, and frequently refers to Ryan as "Da-Da" (then again, I am also referred to as Da-Da... and so is Max... and the occasional preferred inanimate object...)
- Is eating a ton of different foods, his favorites being anything orange (sweet potatoes, carrots, squash, etc.)
- Has four teeth, two on top, and two on bottom (and perhaps more coming in - lots of drooling and finger chewing going on)
- Is starting to play with other babies by reaching out to touch them, handing them toys, and accepting toys handed to him (oh, and pulling hair - we're working on that one.)
- Laughs, laughs, laughs all the time, especially at ANYTHING that Ryan does (apparently he already realizes what a goofball his father is)
- Super good buds with Max, and loves to pet him, pull on his tail, and grab his paws (much to Max's chagrin)
- Is the apple of his mommy's eye, and the subject of his daddy's photography (though this is probably not news to loyal blog readers, it does act as a nice segue to the following image)

Sniffle, Sniffle, Cough, Cough

Ethan has been sick for the past week. He just has a cold, and yet my heart absolutely breaks every time he cries, sniffles, coughs, or looks up at me with confusion and pain behind his eyes. My nights are sleepless, spent either nursing him, rocking him, or worrying about him. I wonder with every intervention I try whether or not I'm effectively treating his discomfort. I second guess my decision to break the "let him cry it out" rule when I run to scoop up my wailing baby, yet end up justifying it by telling myself that all bets are off when he's sick. My entire world is upside down, with everything that I have been used to (a champion sleeper, eater, and all-around happy baby) replaced with a weaker, crankier, insomniac version of my child. All I want is to be able to fix him, to banish his symptoms with a wave of my magic mom wand.

Did I mention he just has a common cold?

What is it about motherhood that turns women into mush? I've always been sensitive, but every single emotion I've ever felt has intensified in my eight short months as a mom. I can't hear about children that have met with tragic ends, mothers who have been separated from their little ones, or babies that are actually horribly ill without getting teary. At the same time, I also feel like motherhood has strengthened me, that I am now capable of things that I never thought possible. I am the strongest ball of mush you've ever seen.

One of the most effective ways to make Ethan feel better has been to give him a bath. He loves splashing around in the water, and it turns him almost instantly from crabby into charming. See for yourself:

Oh, how I love my sweet, sweet little boy!

"Baby Ethan" Got a Facelift!

No, no, we didn't take Ethan in for elective surgery - his handsome little face is perfect just as it is! Our blog, formerly entitled "Baby Ethan" is the one that went under the knife. There are lots of changes in store, the first being that I (Sarah) am going to stop posting in third person. There are so many personal thoughts and stories I want to share, and trying to do so without being personal is cumbersome and awkward. Before getting pregnant, I'd never read a blog, let alone written one myself. The original intent was to enable our friends and family living far, far away to have a way to experience the pregnancy with us. Those of you who know Ryan could have predicted that our journey would be well documented, visually. The purpose of blog version 1.0 was to provide a platform to share his art, with my words merely serving as a side dish - a written compass guiding the reader from one image to the next. Since becoming parents, our lives have changed completely, and it's high time that our blog evolved as well. Thanks to those of you who have phenomenal sites of your own (I read blogs now!) that have inspired me to do more, think more, and say more. Stay tuned, friends, for good things to come.

Future Golfer?

We took a day trip down the coast while Pa-Pa, Oma, and Aunt Mary were here visiting. We went to the Monterey Bay Aquarium and introduced Ethan to fish, sharks, sea otters, and Oma's favorite - penguins. While we were there, we also toured the 17-Mile Drive at Pebble Beach. It's an absolutely gorgeous route along the beach and on the edge of rocky cliffs.


Sarah jokes that Ethan will not be allowed to play football or hockey when he grows up due to the risk of injury. Golf is found on the short list of her pre-approved sports, along with swimming, bowling, and ultimate frisbee. Perhaps the early exposure to one of the world's greatest golf courses will instill a love of the *safe* game.




We also took a tour around San Francisco, visiting the Ferry Building Farmers Market, Alamo Square, and the Cliff House for a sunset dinner over Ocean Beach. Ethan was such a trooper, adjusting easily to napping in the car or stroller instead of his crib. Even though he missed out on a few hours of sleep, he stayed pretty happy all day - especially when we made our way to the playground.

He sure does love swinging, and we have a great time listening to his happy squeals of delight!