How the Ninth Month Went

Dear Zachary,

We have decided that you are the Chris Traeger of babies. Every day, you wake up with a huge smile (probably because you don't have to waste time sleeping anymore) and get going. And once you get going, you just don't stop. As Chris Traeger says, “If I keep my body moving, and my mind occupied at all times, I will avoid falling into a bottomless pit of despair.” (For you, that bottomless pit of despair is nap time.) You have become a ridiculously fast crawler, crawling almost as fast as Mommy and Daddy walk, and you can get into things you're not supposed to two seconds after we turn our backs. The result of this is that we have turned into Mad-Eye Moody: "Constant vigilance!"

So many pictures this month are blurry because you're crawling so fast. 

Not only do you have Chris Traeger's remarkably toned body (for a baby), you are just overwhelmingly positive about almost everything. You spend a significant portion of your awake time with a huge grin on your face and cackling at how funny everything is. Generally you love strangers (knock on wood) and are happy to be left at the church nursery because yaaaayyyy more people and new experiences! You are fine getting into your car seat when we're at home because you know it means going out to see the world, but if we're out at a restaurant or somebody else's home and you need to be buckled in, it's instant sadness because alas, we are leaving all the fun and exciting new things.

Of course, we could just say you're like Dug the Dog from Up ("Hello, I have just met you and I love you!"), but our family policy against dogs doesn't allow me to compare you to one. But we love Parks & Rec, so comparing you to Chris Traeger is acceptable.

I know I said last month that you were getting more and more fun, and that statement still holds true. Your infectious laugh and easy smile have won you the admiration of many random strangers. I feel so blessed that I get to be your mother, and can only thank God that He saw fit to put you in our family. My prayer is that you continue to be a blessing to others even as you grow older, and that you never lose that joy and passion for living.

love,
Mommy

New this month:

• Last month we feared for your life after you learned to crawl and stand, but not to stop and sit back down. After several long weeks of watching your every move and still somehow managing to fail at protecting you from all the corners, walls, edges, and floors in the house (read: every hard surface. Why don't we live in a padded cell like psychiatric wards?), you have finally stopped going to sleep every night looking like you've been in a battle. Now that you can carefully squat back down after standing (and we have moved or covered as many dangerous things as we could), we average only three "I hit something" wails a day, as opposed to thirty. 

• You moved to your own room! I was especially petrified about this since you were still waking three or four times a night, and the thought of trekking down the hallway to get you that many times was unbearable. Thankfully, after a few nights of adjustment, you now only wake up once, usually right before we go to bed, for a quick feeding and then it's back to sleep until 6:30 or 7 am. Hallelujah, God is good. 
• You learned how to scale the Lovesac. Now it's all fun-fun-silly-willy zipping up there and watching Mommy and Daddy rush over to stop you from trying to climb onto the desk from your new vantage point. 
• Finally, drinking water is a thing. I was beginning to worry that you would forever be dependent solely on breastmilk for hydration, as we tried progressively more and more expensive drinking vessels (free shot glass --> IKEA sippy cup --> disposable sippy cup --> Tommee Tippee sippy cup --> $8 Munchkin weighted straw cup finally won). I think the hot weather and your increased activity level helped a lot.
• First time on the swings: we thought you would love it, based on how much you love being swung around in the air by Daddy. Turns out what you loved was the Daddy part, and not the swinging itself, as you were ambivalent at best and slightly freaked out at worst. 

• You have five teeth! Oddly enough, the fifth one to come in was next to your top left tooth, and not on the bottom like all the books say should happen. I am beginning to regret our habit of sticking a finger into your mouth to sooth you when you get angry in the car. 
• We were brave/foolish and took you on your first plane ride! We went to San Diego to celebrate our fifth anniversary and decided to splurge on a luxury hotel. While the plane ride was a breeze (a helpful bachelorette party sitting behind us took it on themselves to play peekaboo with you the whole time), sleeping in a new environment was not. I feel (only slightly) bad for all the rich old retirees who were staying at the US Grant and had to listen to you screaming about the indignities of oh, not being allowed to play with glass and wires, or having to sleep when it's 1 am. It was also the first time we left you with a non-friend/non-family babysitter, but you did just fine and we made it up to you by letting you have some of our Marine Room leftovers the next day. Are we spoiling you by letting you have such high-class experiences on your first vacation? Maybe, but it all evens out in the end because Daddy has decided that such a harrowing experience means you're not traveling again until you're five...just kidding. Sort of.

First plane flight, and you're all prepared with your barf bag!

Making food art on the Grant Grill's nice tablecloth.

New hotel room = endless things to explore.

Making new friends!

Likes: 

• Food: still avocado and blueberries, plus mac& cheese (is there a kid who doesn't like mac&cheese?), potatoes, fresh mozzarella, black beans, and the Marine Room's braised beef cheek. You have good taste, my son. 

• Entropy:  The joys of pulling every book off the shelf and every toy out of the bin have been discovered! It only takes you about three minutes to make your room look like a mess. The best part is that your colorful floor mat works perfectly as camouflage for colorful baby toys, so we are constantly stepping on/tripping over various books, cups, rattles, etc. I guess it's a good thing you have your own room, so it's all mostly contained?

• Toys: this month, the best toys are your IKEA stacking cups (you squeal with excitement when we make towers for you to knock over), the CCHS luggage tag, and the (unopened) tube of California Baby diaper rash cream.

• The ceiling fan: you were so mesmerized when we first turned it on, your head kept circling back and forth trying to follow the blades, and then you fell over while sitting (that hasn't happened in a long time!) because you were so busy looking up. 
• Chatting about new experiences: you've never been one for babbling, but maybe that's just because there wasn't anything worth discussing? We went to SD and suddenly you just would not stop talking! The first hour in the hotel was nonstop "Dab dab dab dab dab dab dab dab dab! Mmmm! Aaaahhhh ehhhh!" 

Dislikes:

• The official worst thing in the world: brushing your teeth. You are generally a cheerful, smiley baby, until we try to stick a bristled torture instrument into your mouth. Then it's full meltdown mode, complete with hysterical screaming, back-arching, and head tossing. Even Baby Einstein videos don't work as distraction, and normally you're mesmerized by screens. Considering the wide variety of items you've stuck into your mouth, I just don't understand what's so bad about a toothbrush. I thought diaper changes last month were bad, but that was nothing compared to this. 
• That's about it! As I said earlier, you are generally a happy, good-natured baby. 

Even when Mommy and Daddy do silly things like put you into the Marine Room bag just to see if you'll fit.

Animals you resemble: 

• A koala: you love clinging to us the way a koala does to a eucalyptus tree. It's really cute how hard you hug, until you start pinching. 
• A raccoon: just like how they like handling their food before eating, you pass your food back and forth from hand to hand, even holding it up to examine it from all angles, before you finally shove it into your mouth. 
• A dog: despite our family's official policy of not believing in dogs, you are all too happy to behave like one: chewing up shoes when you can get them, eating scraps off the floor if you find them, and carrying around toys in your mouth as you crawl around (although your Auntie Emily helpfully points out that this could actually be considered a pirate-with-a-knife type of move). 

• A cat: anything that is specifically meant for you is automatically not interesting, by virtue of us having spent money and/or time in preparing it for you. Toys bought specifically for you? food prepared just for you? Nope, not having any of it. Things that we most want you not to get into, though...those are immensely fascinating. It's uncanny how Walnut knows when an article of black clothing is set down and how you know where the most dangerous objects are. Also like your big brother, you are supremely interested in the contents of his food bowl. Looks like it's time to start putting it up on the counter...