Not a creature was stirring…

I have a few moments of peace this morning, which brings me back to my computer and the internet. Yesterday was a bit taxing as Alva wanted/needed to be held almost constantly from the time we woke up until his father came home from work. I was hoping that it was just a passing one day thing and I was correct. Nothing seems to be consistent yet in the life of my newborn son, but what was I expecting from a 5-week old baby? Perfection? Cuteness? The ability to adhere to a schedule? Not quite. I need to learn to be thankful for the nights, like last night, where he sleeps for 4.5 hours straight so that I can awake feeling refreshed and ready to tackle whatever this whole parenting gig throws at me next.

At 5 weeks, Alva is now out of his newborn diapers, almost, and into size 1 diapers, almost. I say almost because he appears to be between sizes. The newborns, which we are now completely out of in the house, are a bit too snug, cutting into his chubby little thighs and hips, while the size 1s appear to be a bit roomy. There isn’t a huge gap between the elastic and his leg, but it doesn’t seem as though it would quite contain a mess should one occur…I suppose that could just be because I’m used to how snug the NB diapers were. They were loose on him once too. He seems to be growing right before my eyes, which is a good thing considering how much he eats some days. I’m trying to make sure I’ve gone through his clothing and that he gets to wear all of his newborn stuff once more before they’re too small. This is most evident in the footed sleepers where it looks like he could just stretch right out of them…I can’t believe he’s already grown out of some of my favorite outfits for him. The other day my mother commented that a lot of the photos I’ve taken show him in the same sleeper over and over again. The days, at this point, seem to run into each other so I don’t think I’ve got the mental capacity to think too much about what he’s wearing on any given day. My goal is to make sure that he’s comfortable and that he’s clothed, not to make sure that what he’s wearing necessarily matches or that it hasn’t been worn in the past week. I suppose, to me anyhow, that’s the beauty of having a son instead of a daughter…there will be a lot less judgement on his fashion sense at least at this stage in his life and as long as what he’s wearing is clean I should be fairly safe from scrutiny:) There will be plenty of time for him to become fashion conscious or, if he takes after his father, plenty of time for him to develop a love of t-shirts, button downs and jeans, mostly the same 3 or 4 outfits over and over again, until some woman comes along and helps him out in the wardrobe department.

What a peaceful morning. It truly is the most wonderful time of the year. I’m sitting in my kitchen, looking at the lights on the Christmas tree in the living room and waiting for my son to stir again so we can begin our daily fun, but for now I think I’ll just enjoy the silence, knowing how fleeting it can be.

alert and awake

alert and awake, originally uploaded by dharmabumx.

My little man has been rather alert over the past few days. I’m not sure if this is just part of his personality developing or if it has to do with how much I interact with him. The two of us have been taking little field trips to the grocery store and the post office. I carry on conversations with him, although they’re rather one sided:). I just want him to be stimulated by the world around him. Not to mention I need to get out of the house myself. If I don’t leave the confines of the living room every few days or preferably every day I get a little stir crazy.
It’s really cool watching him develop into a tiny person who knows my voice, my touch, my warmth…he knows who mommy is, or at least he knows who’s providing lunch. Gradually he’s starting to look directly at myself or Chris depending on who’s talking to him/holding him. He’s beginning to smile a little bit, even when he doesn’t have gas:). Just little glimmers of personality coming through. I can’t believe he’s nearly 5 weeks old. Where has the time gone?

christened

It’s official, I’ve been fully baptized in the fluids of motherhood.

This weekend we packed Alva up and took a trip out to one of our favorite wineries, Rappahannock Cellars in Huntly, VA. You see, we’re members of their wine club and had about 8 months worth of wine shipments to pick up. I hadn’t exactly been in the condition to go visit a vineyard and furthermore being around such delicious libations would’ve been a bit of a tease to someone who was unable to enjoy them. So, as I said, we packed up the kid in the car and made the 65 mile or so trek out via Front Royal. We stopped for lunch at Spelunker’s, which will now go down as Alva’s first restaurant experience, and enjoyed burgers and fries. He was totally sacked out for the entire trip, which led me to believe that the time we spent at the winery would go one of two ways. A) He’s be an angel, snuggled up in the carrier, me rocking back and forth, him soothed by the comforting sounds of my heartbeat as I enjoyed a tasting with my husband. or B) He’d be fussy as all get out, unwilling to be comforted by a feeding before entering the tasting room and Chris would have to just go inside and pick up our large shipment of vino.

When we arrived at the winery, I removed him from the carseat and fed him in the back seat of the car, which seemed to take forever (it always does when you want to be somewhere) and he was doing his finest work to be the lazy eater I know him to be. I swear he falls asleep at the boob more often than not…in the middle of the night I don’t mind it so much as I tend to nod off as well, but when I’m wanting to get out of the car and get on with my day, it’s a bit frustrating. He fussed quite a bit post feeding and so I figured I’d check out his diaper situation. I laid the small changing pad in the middle of the back seat and disrobed my son from the waist down. He had a small bit of poop on his diaper, but apparently wasn’t done punctuating that sentence. I heard a fart noise followed by a gush of dookie. Keep in mind, I’ve got one hand holding his ankles together in the air and the other reaching for a wipe…projectile poopie ensued. Luckily I’m pretty quick with my reflexes and thought to put my hand over his wee butthole to prevent any more from escaping the confines of his ass. He managed to tag the changing pad, a little on the seat itself and, of course, my right hand. Thankfully being so little and being a breastfed baby, his doesn’t stink (too much) and he doesn’t make all that much at once. Still. I’ve now been peed on twice, spit up on a number of times, including down my cleavage as I was switching the burp cloth from one shoulder to the next, and shat upon. I suppose all that’s left is to be thrown up on, but I’m sure those days are ahead of me. There’s really not much else you can do in these situations but laugh. It’s part of the experience of parenthood. I’m certainly not the first mother to be pooped on and I know I won’t be the last, nor will this be my last time.

In the end, the kid was an angel inside the tasting room. He enjoyed the soothing live music being played and I got to enjoy splitting a tasting with my husband. He slept the entire way back from the winery as well. I’m pretty fortunate that my son, at one month of age, is mellow enough to tote around with us in public.