Luke had his six-month checkup last week and is in the tenth percentile for weight and height, so even though he's small, he's proportionate. He loves rolling around on the floor and is just itching to get up and go. He'll be figuring out the scooting/crawling thing any day now. He started on solids a few weeks ago and absolutely loves to eat. Loves it.
He loves to mimic sounds and we have some pretty lengthy "conversations" together. His new favorite thing to do, besides smacking his lips together, is spitting and blowing bubbles. Which I love, because that means Sam has to out-do him in the "spit" area. And spitting isn't a pet peeve of mine at all.
We had Luke's follow-up urology appointment in Phoenix yesterday, and I had high hopes. Especially after the last appointment a few months ago, when the doctor said the chances of surgery were slim and he was feeling hopeful. He'd said that if the testicle continued to drop at the rate it had been, chances were, we'd be able to leave it be.
That's what I was expecting. But, to my surprise, the testicle is still pretty high in his lower abdomen and it hasn't budged since he was four months old. So, now my little guy needs surgery.
They can't get it scheduled until about two months from now, so in the meantime I will keep an eye on it and if it miraculously comes down on its own, we can cancel the surgery. But it's very unlikely that that will happen. So, until then, I'm trying not to get too concerned, like the overly emotional mom I am in situations like that. I'm putting off the stressful worry until the time comes. Trying not to dwell on the way it feels to have a baby under a year old getting surgery, even though I've been through it twice with Sam.
And it's not like I have anything to worry about. The risks are very low (if any at all), it's a standard surgery, and on top of that, it's out-patient. No staying at a horrid hospital. They're just going to make a small incision where it's at, bring it down and "tack" it in place (in a nutshell).
And that way, even though his risk of testicular cancer is now 10-14% higher because of this, it will now be more available to monitor throughout his life, and will allow it to continue developing as it should (to say the least).
Josh is my cuddle-bug, and I hope he always will be. He is doing SO great with his speech and talking all the time now. Even when I don't understand what he's saying. He's started putting two, and sometimes three, words together and even says a couple sentences. His speech therapist is so proud of him, and so are we. The first time I heard him say, "Mommy, what's this?" I about peed my pants.
He loves to copy everything his older brother does, but still has a stubborn mind of his own. He still loves giving hugs, and I'm not so sure I want him growing up. Ever.
He calls every letter of the alphabet E, O, and I, can count to five, calls every color yellow or blue, calls pie (and any sugary treat) cake, loves to sing his heart out (one of his favorites is Tonight, Tonight), and calls himself Spongebob when he wears his yellow shirt.
Oh, and he still loves to eat paper. And I'm still stumped on why that is and how to get him to stop. It drives me nuts.
|I just had to add this silly picture of him from when he was about 9 months old, because it shows his lovable cheesiness perfectly.|
Where do I start on Sam? Between all his Samisms, laughs, hugs, "I love yous," and smiles, Sam drives me up a wall. Like, I really think I might go bonkers most days. And I feel guilty that he gets on my every last nerve, because our kids aren't supposed to annoy us like that, right?
Well, whether or not he's supposed to, he does. And it makes me remember just why I've never really liked kids. Because four-year-olds are the worse.
But they're also the best. The most forgiving, and the most loving. Even though you yell at them all the time, to the point where you aren't even sure when the last time was you spoke at a normal level. He's super super stubborn, doesn't listen when we tell him no, bites back at every turn, and screams in a way that makes my skin crawl.
I do love him, though. So much. He's my intelligent old soul. We were talking about old souls the other day and Sam came to mind. From the first moment I looked into his eyes at the hospital, I've known he was an old soul. And who am I to raise such a strong, intelligent, wise spirit in this world? Me, who has the worse temper known to man, who falls short all the time as a mother and wife.
It's humbling, and I feel put in my place every time I look into his eyes. Like even though he doesn't realize it, he knows so much more than I do.
Anyway, here's his latest Samism (I couldn't resist):
- Calls Josh "Dude" sometimes.
- Then follows up with calling him a "Loser." Not so happy about that one.
- When I told him not to step on a certain piece of paper on the floor, he replied, "I'm stepping on your mom." Guess we should stop the "yer mom" jokes around him.
- Has always drank his sippy-cup in a "Sam" way, from the side so he can see all that's going on around him.
- Found Dave's padlock and asked if it was a timer for robots.
- Told me when I was talking in an Australian accent that I needed to "stop talking like an old man."
- When seeing the Bush's Baked Beans at the store, he says, "Can we get some secret family recipe?"
- When I tell him to stop whining, he says, "I'm not whining, I'm complaining!"
- Says "Aw, tarter sauce!" when something bothers him.
- Made an imaginary world on the other side of the elliptical called "Ketzwell," and escapes there frequently.
- When looking at his sandwich I made him, he pointed to it and said, "See this mustard?" I said, "Yes..." Then he whispered, "It's made of puzzles."
- Watched us playing Phase 10 one night and said, "I used to play this card game all the time, when I was a grandpa."
Precious, lovable, quirky four-year-old.
I made it a goal to get back into my exercise routine every day, because in seeing recent pictures of me, I realized just how "wide" I've become. And it's hard for me to swallow. Plus, I have to get in shape for the cruise we're going on September 2012. It's a must. So no more eating a sleeve of oreos at a time, or eating junk at 10pm. And no more eating until I'm full, and then some. I will change my eating habits, and I will get in shape.
I just finished completely rewriting my first novel, which was unexpected, since, really, it was hopeless. And since I have tunnel vision and can't focus on more than one project at a time, that's the only thing that made up the minutes of my free time, after the kids went to bed or while the boys were napping (on the days I actually could). I started it just for fun, but then, in falling in love with the characters all over again, I realized I couldn't stop and I wanted to re-create their world. So even though the story still has no hope, in the sense of this dog-eat-dog publishing world, it's still so much better than it was and I fell in love with the story all over again.
Next, I'm going to start re-editing my other novels, the ones with more promise in the publishing world. And since my kids and my writing are really the only thing of merit about me, there's nothing else to really report on. I'd report on Dave, but aside from the point that there's nothing really to report on other than the every-day grind of his job, he doesn't like me getting into the personal stuff. I still haven't converted him to my blogging ways.
So, until I do, that's about all.