6 Months

So a funny thing happened around the time the baby turned 6 months old - he somehow transformed into a real person, instead of the adorable but decidedly proto-human he had been.

I think a lot this has to do with his mastery of sitting.  About a week before his 6-month birthday, he started balancing himself in an unsupported sitting position.  Previously he would list to and fro before flopping over to one side.  Now he could keep himself seated, and this opened up a whole new world - he could reach a variety of toys arrayed in front of him, see a room instead of just the ceiling, observe the street from his stroller, and sit up in a high-chair during dinner just like an actual member of the family.

The Pit started taking him down to the carpeted basement for playtime, and we figured out that he knew how to play a version of catch.  It's more roll than throwing, but he totally understands the conventions - when handed his ball he flings it in our general direction, grins, and then patiently waits for it to be returned to his grasp via rolling or light bouncing.  Then the cycle repeats.

He also impressed me the other day by decoding the operation of one of his musical toys - this thing is a triangle of plastic, and when hit or shaken, it plays several seconds of music.  I keep it by his diaper changing station, and used to shake it and then hand to him.  He would fling it about, more or less accidently activating the musical function and always looking both surprised and delighted when it played.  Now I don't need to activate it first - when I give it to him, he clenches it tightly in one hand, and then slaps it with the other.  The music plays, he listens, and then when the music stops he slaps the toy again.

The impressive part is that he started generalizing this to other toys - now when handed an object, the first thing he does is test its musical potential by slapping it in exactly the same way.  Since many of his toys have some sort of rattle or music built in, his new-found technique brings him much satisfaction.

Unfortunately, another thing that is currently bringing Fuzzy satisfaction is flinging said toys off of his high chair and then screaming until they are returned to him....I guess as parents, we win some and then we lose some.

Fortunate Son

The 6 month round-up post is coming, but first I need to relay a conversation I had with my grandmother yesterday.  She had just watched a video I sent of Fuzzy trying and subsequently hating bananas, and her opinion was that the soft plastic baby spoon was to blame.  "I will buy him a silver spoon!" she proclaimed.

Now while its true that I'm feeling quite bourgeoisie these days, what with my live-in nanny and twice monthly house-cleaners, I thought that literally buying the kid a silver spoon might be taking things a bit far...after all, I'm still feeling somewhat guilty for paying a nice Asian lady to paint my toenails two months ago.

Anyway, it turns out that the Russians consider silver spoons the healthiest spoons with which to feed children.  I was all set to mock this as yet another old country superstition on my grandmother's part, and then I did a quick Google search - turns out, I shouldn't make fun of old people willy-nilly.*

Quothe Wikipedia: Beyond their value and aesthetics, silver utensils self-sanitize: silver has antimicrobial properties, due to the oligodynamic effect.

* And not just because I used the term willy-nilly in a real sentence.

The Pit Called This Manipulation

Fuzzy was having an off day - he didn't nap well, he wouldn't eat, and he generally spent most of his time whining.  When he wasn't whining, he was either refusing to be put down, or squirming like he wanted to be dropped.  I was working from home, and it took both Maya and I to manage him and get anything done.

So toward the end of the day, Maya was making dinner and I was holding him on my lap on the couch.  He had finally settled down a little, his head resting on my shoulder.

I put my lips by his ear, and whispered tenderly, "You've been such a booger today...but I love you anyway."

And wouldn't you know it, he whipped his head around, planted a wet smooch right on my cheek, and grinned.

Needless to say, all was forgiven.

25 Weeks

I'm working from home today, and came downstairs after my shower to find Maya and Fuzz happily napping together on the basement floor.  So cute.

Now for the roundup of recent developments:

1) This isn't really a development per se, but I would be remiss if I didn't show off a picture of Fuzzy in his Halloween costume.  The Pit wanted something more manly for our boy, but his first choice of lobster costume was not available in Fuzzy's size on Amazon, so I got to pick my favorite:

Mommy's little bunny he is.  As an aside, thanks to my soon-to-be brother-in-law for the gift of Amazon Prime - we've used it for purchases both significant and trivial recently, but I think the bunny costume wins first place.

2) Last post I mentioned Fuzzy putting his cheek against our chests when tired - in the last few weeks, this behavior has morphed into just plain putting his head down when tired.  No matter what position he's in, he will lean over (twisting uncomfortably if necessary), find any available surface, and plant his little cheek against it.  His parents have predictably dichotomous reactions to this: I find adorable, and The Pit worries that the baby is straining his neck.

3) Fuzzy is also embracing his destiny.  He knows he will be tall one day, and doesn't want to wait for that day to arrive.  In addition to demanding that he be stood on his own two feet, the baby also loves being stood up high on my shoulders.  This is a rather tiring position for mom, but Fuzz delights in it so, surveying all he commands with an air of satisfaction.

4) We've had our first real diaper blow-out.  Astute readers may remember an incident in the hospital when Fuzz was first born, but that was baby poop in comparison to our situation a few days ago.  See, Fuzzy used to be quite the prolific pooper - I would say at least 10-12 times a day in his first month.  This meant that any one incident was relatively manageable.  However, over time he's pooped less and less frequently, and sometime in the last few weeks, he's settled down to a respectable once-a-day schedule that makes all of our lives easier.  Except this past weekend, he skipped a day.

The following morning, The Pit was being a wonderful husband, and agreed to take the baby so I could sleep in...5 minutes later I heard him frantically yelling my name.  I rolled out of bed and rushed downstairs to find him at the changing table, restraining Fuzzy from flailing his legs in a diaper that had clearly been outmatched - poop was coming out of the bottom of the leg holes, out of the top on his back, and out of the front to cover his stomach.  The onesie was covered, the pajama pants were stained, and thank god we had put Fuzz in a sleep sack, or the sheets would have needed changing too.  And since we've been feeding the baby rice cereal for the past few weeks, this poop smelled...adult.  After I washed the baby in the sink and The Pitt took all the soiled clothing to the laundry room, the nursery still reeked, and required a good airing-out before we could breath comfortably.  So there's that - a rite of parenthood, accomplished.

5 Months

The baby turned 5 months, and we celebrated by a return to the doctor's office - at his 4 month check-up, Fuzz weighed in at a whopping 10th percentile, and the pediatrician wanted to see if he was getting any fatter.  Turns out, not so much, so rice cereal, here we come.

Despite his less than stellar weight gain, Fuzzy has been doing all sorts of interesting things recently:

1)  He's ambitious - although he hasn't yet mastered sitting, or even rolling over (several times he's gotten me up at night because he flipped onto his stomach and got stuck), he's already aching to stand.  We used to do this move where we would have him grab onto our hands with both of his as he was laying down, and then we would pull him into a sitting position.  Now he goes straight through the sitting pose, folds his feet under him, and rolls to a stand, all the while looking very proud of himself.  He also likes to be held under the armpits, and then he plants his feet on any available hard surface, straightens his legs, and grins.

2) And while he can't sit up by himself yet, he has gotten better at sitting - he's great in his Bumbo chair and in the ExerSaucer, and we had to move his bouncer to a new setting to accommodate his desires to sit up instead of leaning back.  Here he is, thinking about how to get out of the Bumbo and stand up.

3) Halfway through his 4th month, Fuzz slept through the night.  It happened to be the one night when I was getting sick, so while my first reaction was shock and joy, my second reaction was concern that he was getting sick too.  Fortunately, he did not succumb to the same pestilence that The Pit and I had, but unfortunately,  he has not yet repeated that long stretch of sleep.

4) Despite his lack of weight gain, the baby is now consuming four ounces of milk when Maya gives him the bottle.  This is about double what he ate two months ago, so those calories are presumably getting used up growing him taller, rather than fatter.  He's somewhere around the 80th percentile in height, so it looks like he'll be tall and slim like papa.

5) In preparation for Halloween, The Pit carved a pumpkin.  My mom and I gave Fuzz one of the cut-out eyes to play with, and of course he shoved the whole thing into his mouth.  This was all well and good, until he got it stuck - it was way too big to go down his throat, but exactly the right shape to get wedged between his chipmunk cheeks.  The Pit had to come to the rescue, and chastised my mother and I "for almost killing the baby."

6) After he finishes nursing and falls asleep, Fuzz continues to sort of roll the milk around in his mouth, and assumes a purse-lipped expression which strongly reminds me of my grandfather.  It's like he's thinking something isn't quite up to par, but he's not entirely sure what the problem is.  You would think this would annoy the person providing Fuzzy with perfectly good milk, but the fact that I have a dubious baby delights me - the Peachy genes are strong within this one!  The following picture does not show this expression, but does demonstrate Fuzzy' growing resemblance to his mama:  

7) Fuzzy's head previously fit perfectly in the hollow of my neck when I rocked him to sleep, but he's gotten too big to fit comfortably there - plus he now has a tendency to grab and try to eat my hair.  However, he's come up with a new and adorable position from which to rest.  When he's tired these days, he'll bend over, lean his cheek against the chest of whoever is holding him, and quietly observe the world.  I haven't managed to get a picture of this, but since my last report of his kissing, I snagged several shots, which you can enjoy below:

4 Months

Well, the baby is a one third of the way through his first year:

The most of adorable of new developments is Fuzzy's smooching.  At first when I brought him up to my face and he planted his lips on my cheeks, I assumed he wanted to nurse. But over the last few days, I've become convinced that he's actually trying to imitate kissing - he doesn't suckle like he's hungry, but instead grabs my nose or hair with his little fists, pulls me close, opens his mouth and slobbers a little on my cheek, then pulls away and giggles, waiting for a return kiss from me.  When I oblige, he smiles hugely, and then opens his arms to pull me close again and repeat the procedure.  It is literally the cutest thing, even if it involves rather more saliva than I'm used to with a peck on the cheeks.

In addition to his new display of affection, Fuzz has finally found his thumb.  For weeks now he's been cramming his whole hand in his mouth, to the point where he gagged himself on his own fingers.  But this week, he figured out that the thumb is the way to go - all the satisfaction of sucking, with none of the choking and coughing.

He's also just generally better at physical coordination - when I hold him under the armpits and stand him up on my lap, he balances much better, presses his little feet into my legs, and reaches for me with both hands.  He's also taken to holding his arms up when we approach him in the crib or playpen - I'm not 100% sure, but I think he's asking to be picked up.  And really, who could resist this face?  Nobody, that's who.

As can be seen in the picture above, the weather has finally turned cool enough for us to put Fuzz in his adorable tiny jackets - somehow, with a hood on him, he looks like much more of a Russian baby.  This is especially true when said tiny jacket is buttoned up, like so:

14 Weeks

Fuzzy had a momentous 14th week of life.

1)  His new nanny - we'll call her Maya - started work this week, and lo, it turns out she is a miracle worker.  On her very first day, she and my mother managed to distract Fuzzy long enough for him to consume half an ounce of milk from a bottle.  Granted, this whole process took almost an hour, required two grown women, two musical toys, an exercise ball, and a plethora of distracting tinkling, squeaking, and rattling objects - but still!  Definite progress from no bottle at all.

2)  Fuzz also showed some motor development progression, as he flipped from his back to his stomach in a fit of pique.  This was during a middle-of-the-night feeding and diaper changing, so I was the only witness, and so far he hasn't repeated this trick for anyone else.  I'm pretty certain it happened though, and wasn't just a sleepless hallucination on my part.

3)  Finally, the baby has finally discovered his feet.  He's certainly seen them before, and even stared for lengthy periods of time, but this week he figured out that those things at the bottom of his body can be fun toys.  He now grabs them when laying down and purposefully splashes with them in the tub.  This discovery is a mixed blessing for us adults - on the one hand, he has a good object of distraction when no toys are available.  On the other hand, diaper changing is significantly harder now, as he resembles nothing so much as rolly-polly bug who refuses to straighten out.

3 Months

Between his twelfth and thirteenth week, the Fuzz has developed some new tricks:

1)  Blowing bubbles.  Whereas he used to communicate in several adorable coos, this new milestone means that Fuzzy basically now stares at us while gurgling and drooling excessively.  His squeals have gotten higher pitched too, and he somehow manages to convey both whining and demanding tones, especially when he's hungry.  The Pit and I decided his new conversational language resembles nothing so much as pterodactyl cries.  If chatting with the baby were plotted against our enjoyment, I would say this week brought a definite dip.

2)  Playing peek-a-boo. To make up for talking through a mouth full of spit, on his three-month birthday Fuzzy showed my mom and I something totally new.  I was holding him in the crook of my arm with my mom sitting next to us, and Fuzzy decided he would play a game.  He turned to my mom, gave her a big grin, watched her attentively for a second, and then turned his head to hide in my arm.  He let a few seconds go by, and then he flipped over to my mom again with a delighted look on his face.  He did this over and over and over again, clearly showing off how good he was at concealment.  My mom tried doing peek-a-boo back by hiding her face in her hands, but Fuzzy was clearly more interested in hiding than seeking.

3)  Rolling over.  Fuzzy has generally been more cranky this week, which means his usual response to tummy time was an indignant wail.  However, we did manage to get him to lay on his stomach a few times, and were  rewarded with the baby suddenly rolling over onto his back.  At last count, he had done this four times with a completely nonchalant air, looking at us with vague confusion when we erupted into cheers and clapping.  He hasn't rolled over from his back to his stomach yet, but has gotten all the way to his side while reaching for a toy.

4) Not sleeping.  As mentioned above, this has not been Fuzzy's finest week.  The last two days in particular have been brutal, with demands to be fed every two hours, and sudden hunger pangs that bring him screaming out of sound sleep and groping for a boob without ever opening his eyes.  I would say the following picture really summarizes all of our feelings about the situation:

12 Weeks

At 12 weeks, Fuzzy is displaying a remarkable progression in hand-eye coordination.  Three weeks ago he was batting at toys, grabbing them sporadically, and mostly unsuccessfully attempting to shove them in his mouth.  As the weeks passed, Fuzz began clenching his fists, bringing them up to his face, and then studying them in crossed-eye concentration.  Eventually he would try to cram one of them in his mouth, to better appreciate its aerodynamic qualities.

Apparently all this studying paid off, because he became better and better at toy grabbing.  With his 3rd month half-over, he can take just about any toy dangled in front of him, or placed off to the side, determinedly clench it in his fat little fingers, wave it around for a bit, and then in a very satisfying finale, bring it to his mouth for a taste.

He's also starting to show us desires (desires other than food or sleep, that is) - if he's playing with a toy and we take it away, he will first look around for it, and if it's no longer within reach, he will look at us accusingly and start making half-crying half-whining noises until it is returned to his grasp.  This new-found toy fascination means that we can leave him to play alone for longer and longer periods of time, freeing us up for certain critically important tasks.*

* Using the restroom and showering are important tasks at the top of this list.

This next triumph will be difficult to explain for the American readers, but Russians have this playful stretching/ massaging exercise for children, typically done upon waking.  It's pronounced paty-goose-ing-key, but all as one word.  The way it works is that the adult puts their hands on either side of the kid's head, and then runs their hands all the way down the sides of the body, stretching out the arms and legs as they go, and all the while saying "Patygoosingkey!  Patygoosingkey!"  I distinctly remember my grandfather doing this with me when I was little, and loving it.

Well, upon first meeting Fuzz, my grandfather started doing this to him.  The really amazing part is not that the kid loved it, but how quickly he learned it.  After spending a few hours with my grandpa, he's got the routine down.  I can start saying the words and running my hands down his arms, and by the time I get to his chunky thighs, he's straightened out his legs all by himself, and is grinning at me while assuming a classic toy soldier position.

A Breakfast Scene

The Pit is always chastising me for wandering around the house semi-nude, or, depending on the occasion, completely starkers.  So you can imagine my delight, when on this trip to visit my family, I came downstairs in the morning to the following tableau:

The Pit, standing at the kitchen island with my dad, having breakfast.  The Pit dressed normally, but my father wearing only bright green speedo underwear and a rather small short-sleeved collared shirt, which I'm fairly certain was worn only for a place to put his cigarettes.

Why was this considered appropriate breakfast attire?  Why didn't he wear shorts instead of a shirt if he needed pockets?  These are all excellent questions, but I do not have answers for you.  All I know is that The Pit should be grateful that the only Peachy family member he has to regularly see half-naked at breakfast is me.