Woog Stats

Kovi had his 12 month check-up with one of his favorite peds, Dr. Goudelock. At 20lbs and 29 1/2 inches, he's zoomed into the 20th%, up significantly from the 2nd%. YIPPIE!
Technically he does yet qualify for the new Big Boy carseat Ci-Ci and Papa purchased for him, but we're thinking if we have him suck down a juicy cup and wear his favorite dinosaur Vans, he aught to clear the weight requirement. Poor tiny little boy.
**And now...I'll brag**
The doctor complimented Kovi on being "ahead of the curve." Linguistically, he speaks 10-15 words- 10 being very clear, the other 5 are deciferable by us. His comprehension of language goes far, far beyond that. Yesterday while waiting for Dr. Fat Fingers, Kovi flipped through Parent Magazine, noting the faces of babies, their eyes and noses. He continued flipping through, rather engrossed in the process (oh, so much fun) of page-turning. Pausing on a particular page, with his pointer finger (a newer skill) landed on an image and began poking, poking at it. Upon closer inspection, BD and I noticed he was "pushing the buttons" on a musical table toy that he has here at home. Slightly stunned...we looked at one another and said, "Uhhhh...." (enter Dr. FF...the fun hits a size 16 shoe brick wall- THIS is gonna hurt)
This isn't to say that Kovi won't grow up to be the kid that eats paste or play dough or something, but right now, today, he is a very smart baby. (He git it from hiz Mama...) =) (ok, ok...Big Daddy too)
In the meantime, we continue to stimulate him with new sounds, music, gestures etc... he's a tiny little sponge, absorbing everything we throw (not literally) at him. A lot of what he does, he's learned through us- Soooo Big and the location of body parts- but many other things, he's discovered on his own. To me, that is the really crazy and incredible stuff. Given the opportunity to ingest and learn as adults, even for 1 day, at the rate babies do, would be unfathomable. Surely, it would HAVE to improve the number of stupid drivers.

Ode To Big Daddy

I speak much on the tiny Keeper of My Heart...Woog, taking for granted (verbally anyway) the bigger Keeper and co-creator of above referenced heart-melter- Big Daddy.
It's kinda humorous, when I started calling him that (before Woog was born), it was in response to the kind of father I suspected he'd become- I suppose I could have called him Supreme Daddy or Totally Rad Daddy, even What-the-Hell-Would-I-Do-Without-You Daddy... but Big seemed appropriate. I was right (usually am) :)- he lives up to his title and I'm not the only one that thinks so. BD, as he is often referred to, has sorta become his nickname. Does he love it? Ehhh. But to me, it's endearing that others see him as The Big Daddy too. (sidenote: I DO NOT WANT TO BE BIG MAMA, k?) I'm struggling, currently, with the fact that I have moved up yet another bra size. We're talking elephantitis of the chest area... so NO referrences to larger anything. mkthanks.
And what a Big Daddy... a testament to how far he's come- BD has ALWAYS had an aversion to puke, like ostriching his head under a pillow in the furtherest corner of the house until the retching stops...now, he catches it in his hands whilest offering soothing words of solace. Pre-baby, a startling jostle in the wee moring hours would have created a grumpy bed-headed slit-eyed grunter. Now, he has a 2 second response time...DING, and off to plug in a bottle or ninny or rock or change a diaper or catch puke.
It's my good fortune to have a Big Daddy... I knew it a LONG time ago. (flashbacking: we were so young and so thin...nearly a decade and a half ago).
Thanks BD :) Chesty Mama heart you.

The Good, the Bad and the B.S.

It's been a whirlwind (what a strange word...whirlwind. Does anyone really say that? "Hey," comments the Kansas native, pointing to his roof swirling 150 feet above his head, "look at that whirlwind go.") anyway... it's been a nutty couple of days.
Woog, as you know, has been under-the-weather (HA...see above roof-swirling comment). By Tuesday, I thought it prudent to take him in- his cough, so croupy and mechanical sounding, wasn't improving and he was beginning to tug on his ears. After ridiculous amounts of flirting (Woog, not me) and semi-wet diaper weigh-in (he's just cracked 20lbs), we left Easley Peds with antibotics for his double ear infection and bronchitis as well as an order to run across the street to the hospital for a chest x-ray, ruling out pneumonia. Poor chubby-butted baby.
Meanwhile in Pregnancy Land, Dr. Fat Fingers has placed an all-stop on nearly everything accept pooping. (Good thing). Dilated and shortened, this fat lady's cervix is ready to deliver forth one teeny-tiny little devil. Pleading to remain out of the hospital, appointments with Drs. FF and Greig (a slightly smaller build of man, PTL) have kept me on my feet for, what seems, the whole of the week. And this makes sense to them.
Yesterday Woog bashed his eye on one of his toys... he has his first black eye. Visualize this- croupy, snotty, crabby 1-year-old with a black eye and LONG doctor's visits (3 in one week). What does this equal? A desire for LIQUOR.
But here's a bit of sunshine... Today, this morning... Woog took his first steps!!!!!!!!! 3 of them! He was soooo proud of himself- he clapped and clapped and said, "Ehhhhhhh." And Mommy, she cried. And Daddy...he puffed his chest out a bit. And LuLu and Boz and Dub...thought to themselves, "WTF is all the noise about. Can't you bi-peds see that we're trying to sun ourselves. Lord Almighty, you think the kid had learned not to poop himself." (Denote the fur-baby sarcasm...I believe it's real.)

Looking For Solid Numbers Here

How many times in a child's first year shall I be expectant of seeing/feeling/wiping/suctioning snot from one tiny, little nose? This poor child doesn't know what it means to breathe through the nose holes God gave him. A perpetual mouth-breather, strangers (even I) are beginning to think he mimics the panting of the "Aaaaa Dog-Dogs" he loves so much.
Last night I hit the snot motherload... (if you're squeamish, turn away) I was like mucus El Dorado- I had discovered the Lost City of Boogers. Little green Leprechauns led me (and the snot sucker thingy) to the pot of snot gold (there wasn't a rainbow...it was dark). I was in Vegas playing the Snot Machine and landed on 4 Double-Triple Globular Goo-Balls. Enough?
It just kept coming...How can something so (relatively) small (he's packed it on pretty good lately...you've got to see his chubby little dupa) create SO much snot? Where is he keeping it?
Anyway, I was curious...how often is this supposed to happen? What is a normal snot productivity level for a 1-year-old. Is there a flow chart I can download? An Excel doc I can peruse? I'm running out of tissue AND clean pants.

Bedrest and General Malaise

We got the news yesterday afternoon- though I was suspect (and damn near positive by Sunday evening). Three (or maybe it qualifies as two since it's hypenated?) words- Pre-term Labor. UGH.
In all of my over-doing for Woog's Birthday, crazy schedule and more, I've induced early contractions- a really bad thing at just 27.1 weeks. Woog wanted to come early too (25 weeks), and a hospital stay cured that.
So now, a bed or couch looms in the very near future....and...for the next 11 weeks. :(
Of course SHE is the most important thing- her health and safety. I can't imagine having her and not being able to bring her home. That won't do. Besides, she's just 2 lbs right now. My Chihuahua would look like a Great Dane next to her. At that size she could be a part of her own mobile. 2 lbs, that's like what my current underwear weigh. Grow little one...
So, I'll pacify myself reading and playing pretend with Woog. (He really is a crack-up). {He's learned that a nose says "Honk," a bellybutton says "Dingdong," and when one (or he) claps, they say "YEAAAAAAH." He headbutts is father and laughs, he shakes his head side-to-side when we say "Craaaaazy Baby." Loves to sneak peeks inside the toilet- facinating, eh?}
Steroid injections and a uterine home-monitoring device will help to keep ensure status quo- that is: No-Baby-Til-May.

Happy First Birthday Party!!!

Pre-Party Snack...Puff-Puffs and a smile


Little Leah looked so cute...Maybe that's why Woog appears to be staring at her butt


Dad tells the funniest jokes


Woog is tolerant with his party hat while the paparazzi snaps photos


"What's this," Kovi inquires? "Sugar," Mom replies.


Yeah for Sugar!


Face-painting with frosting... YIPPIE


And now you will lick my fingers


Ruby and Rylin were big birthday helpers...Kovi loved ALL of his gifts and is THANKFUL to everyone that shared his very special day with him. We love each of you very much!
Thanks to:
Kelly and Mark
Meghan, Jon, Donovan, Tyler, Ruby and Rylin
Joy and Eddie
Michelle and Kevin
MaryNell and Willett
Elizabeth and Deaner and Leah
Jerry and Elaine and Izzy

I'm So, Like, Out-of-Touch

Just had a conversation this morning- it went something like, "when my children are old enough to do naughty things, I'll be one step ahead of them...blah blah blah." So my oldest nephew came over to help watch Woog while I was scrubbing down bathrooms and baking (I washed). And not that he is doing anything naughty, but I sense he's galloping toward that line- you know, the one where "Dude try some..." awaits (heeeeey man, the colors).
He told me he has a girlfriend and she, like he, has a myspace page. So he shows me... her profile says 18-year-old from Atlanta and her pics, although cute, are like, so grown up. Kissy faces and heavy makeup. Sheesh. He's only 12, but thinks he's 16. She's only 12 and looks like she could bartend partime.
His friends told him to change his myspace profile picture...it was too childish. So he did. This is what he posted in place of his sweet and innocent little photo.

Happy First Birthday KOVI <3 <3 <3

The Birthday Boy spent a relaxing day at the Spa a la Gann... after a lavender lotion massage and mani/ pedi, Woog spent a leisurely day taking the bottom rack out of the dishwasher and exploring the Corningware cabinet. A couple of naps and diapers changes later, Woog got to open his present... And BOY was he... unimpressed. Maybe it was the fact that he hadn't eaten yet, or hadn't napped well, or hated the birthday hat we were forcing him to wear, but sitting in his brand new Vroom Vroom wasn't the least bit appealing. He did, however, rather enjoy opening and shutting the car's tiny little gas cap.
Following the car (un)excitement, Woog ate his first birthday cake- banana bread. Yes, I know...deflating on one's first birthday not to partake of all that sugary goodness, but his little system isn't used to that junk and he was already crabby. He liked it though... He gingerly pecked away at what was, for him, a HUGE piece until he realized that he had full authority to use both hands. All looked to be going well in the double-fisting category, right then left, repeat. But Woog, smarter than we, ducked his head to highchair tray level and ate, sans hands, right off of the tray. Genius.
He finished the evening off with a second birthday bath...ate a few bubbles, blew a few bathwater farts and felt, I think, as though the day was...probably like any other- except he had to wear a stupid hat.
Happy Birthday my Son...Mama and DaDa love you more than the stars and the great big Moon-a.

Sugar Cubes

Little Leah and Tiny Woog spent the afternoon 'getting to know one another...' A battery of examinations ensued; including, an extensive oral hygiene check (PS, her Grams is an ER Doc- not a Proctologist, wheew) It might have been that Leah was hypnotized by The Woog's mouth full of pearly chompers, or, simply, this was Leah's way of sharing something that makes her happy. For all of her efforts, Woog was especially grumpy, denying his Little Lovely of sweet baby kisses and gentle arm pats. I'm thankful he didn't have it in mind to chomp down on one of Leah's precious little digits... probably, that would have ended the love affair.