Wow. It flies.
So where are we? Well, I’m starting to worry a bit again, even though I know from experience that he does everything in his own time.
He still has the whole Caveman-grunt thing going on. You can say whatever you want to him and he seems to understand almost everything. “Zachy, bring me those shoes.” And he does. “Do you want some juice?” And he walks to the kitchen. “Give me the red block.” And he does. But he won’t say any of it. He says Mama, Daddeeeeee, Bubby, Mooo (for cows), bye-bye. He waves. He plays independently when appropriate. He walks, he runs, he climbs. As a matter of fact, one of his favorite things is to climb on the new coffee table and dive into John’s recliner. Cute? yep. But it makes me a nervous wreck, especially after his bath when he is wearing footed pj’s and can easily slide on the table. Gah! And he loves, loves, loves looking out the window. He will climb all over the back of the sofa just to get a peek outside. And my favorite thing he does now? “Zachy, gimme a kiss!” And he comes up to you with little fish lips and plants one right on your cheek while making the muaaaaa sound. It melts my heart.
We haven’t made any progress on the swaddler, pacifier, and just-before-bedtime 2 oz. bottle. I think I am going to start with the bottle this week, gradually reducing the amount he gets until he doesn’t get one anymore. Then the swaddler. Then the binky. He mainly only uses the pacifier for sleep, anyhow. We try to keep them away from him during the day, but he is cutting molars and has been a little tyrant lately. Poor baby. And you know how they tell you that you can try and try to keep things away from kids and they will just improvise anyway? Well he has quite the collection of large wooden puzzles–the kind with the knobby handles on the pieces. He must have been looking for a pacifier and couldn’t find one during playtime, so I caught him walking around with a puzzle piece in his mouth backward as if it were a pacifier.
And he dances. AND he has rhythym. To anything, really. My ringtone on my phone is “Icky Thump” by The White Stripes. And I swear, everytime my phone rings, he starts doing his little dance. It is so adorable and funny. Tonight, we were in the car and I had some rap playing. John looked back and cracked up because Zachy was fist-pumping. I swear. I gotta stop killing my brain cells and his by watching Jersey Shore around him. (yeah, I just admitted that publically, and I equate it to a train wreck where you just can’t look away, no matter how much you want to do so.)
He is starting to thin out a little bit. I bought him all 24 Months clothing for the Fall, and they fit decently enough to already wear. It seems they get bigger on him everytime he wears them as his shape changes from that of a chubby baby to the shape of a little boy.
I’m afraid he is going to follow in my footsteps in one way I hoped he would not: my sensitivity to everything. This week, where he ised to have only a tiny patch the size of a quarter on his lower back, he has developed large patches of eczema all over his back and starting on his belly and thights as well. We have got to revert to the days where we wash all of his clothes seperately in Dreft. I also have to switch back from the baby bath products I use on him to the Baby Phisoderm that I used up until he was about 10 months old.
We’re practicing using spoons and forks and sitting at the big table without the highchair tray. For right now, he mainly just uses the utensils as a shovel to scoop the food out of his bowl and onto the floor beneath him. It is hard not to give in and just try to feed him or to resist the urge to just give him finger foods in order to eliminate the hassle, but I know he has to learn to eat like a big boy.
He is still very much the baby. Cuddly. Sweet. He will come up to us, curl into our chests and make the “Awwwwwwww” sound. And he’ll stay there for a while. He does the same with stuffed animals. He’s just a Cuddle Bug. This is why I think it is so hard to break him of the swaddler and why I think it was so hard to break him of the bumper in his crib. He would scootch up to where he was snuggled up against it and fall asleep. Now he has cold wooden bars to cozy up to. But we did it. We were successful in that, at least.
He is starting to get a little bit of separation anxiety. He’ll follow me to the door when I leave for work and I can hear John trying to comsole him as I walk away. It breaks my heart. Now, he has even gotten to the point that when he sees me put on scrubs or my stethoscope around my neck, he knows what is going down and will cling to my legs. Absolutely one of the worst parts of being a parent, that it. But it has to happen. Especially considering my addiction.
Zach has turned into to quite the little fasionisto. I was organizing and purging his closet the other day, and I was horrified. He has 23 pair of Pediped shoes. Because he needs them all for his outfits, damnit. Each pair matches certain outfits. The problem is that he is now wearing their Flex line, and they are about $50 a pair. yeah, do that math. I gotta stop. It is an addiction, but I insist it could be worse. I’m not one of these moms out there spending a ton on themselves while their kids wear rags. (John insists that these habits of mine are to blame for Evan’s metrosexual tendencies. My bad. But having a penis is no reason to not be put together well!)
So anyhow, that is the update on Zachary. Still an angel. Still a miracle. Still my baby.