Growing Baby

This week

+ Scott found his vocal cords and has been happily screaming all day long. 

+ We played peekaboo for the first time and he joyously giggles each time I say "Boo!" 

+ Scott is interactive enough to really play with Andrea, and gets so excited when Papà comes home from work. 

+ We love him even more. 

Scott the Scooter

Scott still can't roll over, but he has the scooting down.

This Baby

This baby is in the 23rd percentile for weight and the 96th percentile for height. 

Can you say tall and skinny?!

Operation Stop The Thumb-Sucking

I was writing a post on how motherhood is such a blessing and how it enriches my life, but right now my four month old is screaming at the top of his lungs and I have no idea what to do. "Blessing" is the last word that comes to mind. ("What the heck should I do!?" is at the forefront.)

Due to pressed nerves, Scott has an incredibly difficult time sucking and keeping a pacifier in his mouth. Although he loves the rhythmic comfort of sucking (especially when putting himself to sleep), he is constantly spitting out the binky-- no matter the brand. Weeks ago, I got sick of retrieving the abandoned pacifier every two to three minutes and finally just took it away. Almost immediately his right thumb replaced the plastic. Life was blissful. He would self-sooth and sleep for ten hours each night, but I had nightmares of him turning into a kindergartener with a pink, winkled, and smelly thumb. So I put a mitten on his hand and have gave him the orange, plastic pacifier the lactation consultant had specifically recommended. Then he spit it out and cried, and I gave it right back to him. And he spit it out and cried, and I gave it back to him. Now we've done that dance about one hundred times and I'm the one who's about to cry.

What's a mamma to do? Where's the textbook? I think I'll pray about it and cry some more (and then give him his thumb back).

Baby's First Trip to Italy

Number of hours spent on an airplane: Twenty-six. Poor bums.

Minutes of Fussiness: Fifty-three. Not bad for a three month old! 

People surprised: Il nonno. Everyone else and their dog knew we were coming, but somehow the secret was still kept from grandpa. And his reaction was priceless. 

Clothing items gifted: Forty-three. I'm telling you, Scotty Luca is going to be the best dressed boy in all of Seattle.

Things we consumed: Tortellini, pizza, crostata, biscotti, hot chocolate, grisbì, caprese sandwiches, and focaccia.  

Best part of the trip: Seeing the family ooh and awe over Scott's coos and smiles.

Hardest part for Mamma: Leaving baby for a whole day while Andrea and I toured Milan. DeVinci's "Last Supper" is incredible, but I missed my baby.

Hardest part for Papà: The nights in which he only slept for ten minutes due to an overactive brain and baby with jet lag.

{What? It's 4am and I should be sleeping?}

Hardest part for baby: So much cuddle time :) 

Kodak moment:

Scotty was having a hard time falling asleep, until Andrea had this ingenious idea. I now have a special affinity for airplane tray tables. 

Biggest regret: Not eating enough pizza. 

What we miss most: Kisses from i nonni and la zia (and la nonna's cooking!).

Right Now

This is what I can't get enough of right now:

Scotty's self-soothing includes sucking his thumb and rubbing the back of his head with his free hand. And it is DARLING.

After-Feeding Bliss

Yesterday was a hard day. I left home early with Andrea, but without eating breakfast, and returned crippled over in hunger pains and a ringing headache. (I have enough experience to know how to avoid this, but somehow I still frequently make the same silly mistake.) I was so weak that making something to eat seemed like a marathon task. All I wanted to do was pull the duvet over my head and disappear into a deep and dark sleep. And then, my baby started crying. I was sick until late afternoon, and all day Scott expressed dissatisfaction with a pathetic whine. It was the hardest day we'd had in a long time, and frustration masked my love until it was the only thing I could feel. 

But last night, after downing his bottle, he lay contentedly in my arms and smiled--a darling, shy smile. Swiftly, that smile cut through my frustration and a deep love seeped in. The house was dark and silent, the paper shaded lamp on my bedside the only glow, and Scott and I were alone. I traced his perfectly shaped eyebrows with my finger, tapped his nose, and grinned admiringly at that bottom lip he likes to suck in. Overcome with soaring emotion, I pulled him closer and whispered this breathy sentiment over and over, "I love you. I love you. I love you...." Then my lips pecked his and my happy tears decorated his cheeks. And with each kiss, that abashed smile was reborn. I wanted that moment to last forever. 

Sometimes the days seem long and motherhood difficult to balance, but moments like these are healing and I wouldn't trade them for the whole word. 

And now a parade of after-feeding photos:

 {Four weeks old}

 

{Seven weeks old}

{Two months old}

{Three months old}

Baby's Room

  

When you live in a 600 square foot apartment (in which in the only room with a door that closes is the bathroom) you nap near the toilet.

P.S. I know I need to do the laundry....

Let Me Never Forget This

 These past three months have been the hardest of my life. For a few weeks my body felt like it had been hit by a semi racing full speed down I-5. Trying to find balance between the title of ‘mom’ and ‘student’ has also been a challenge, and breastfeeding…I think I produced more tears than milk. But, as difficult as these gray winter months have been, they have also been sprinkled with flecks of gold. My once scrawny and red infant is plumping into a baby with hints of elephant rolls on his upper thighs, and I’m just recognizing how fleeting childhood is. Wistful longing sprouts from the core of my being in the realization that the first three months of my baby’s life are now just a memory. I don't mind him growing up (heavens, he's so much more fun when he smiles and giggles!), but I do mind knowing that I was terrible about documenting the beginning. So, I’m starting now. Here are some things I don't ever want to forget:

+ His first pair of blue jeans, which are one inch too big around the waist and rolled up (out of necessity) at the ends.

+ Those genuine smiles he flashes after eating, that no picture can ever quite catch the magic of. They're even better when accompanied by a throaty French “r”.

+ Overhearing Scott and his papà laugh and giggle right before a diaper change. We can't understand why the changing table is his favorite place to be.

+ Walking the far neighborhoods of Seattle with a sleeping infant strapped to my chest.

+ Reading the scriptures, snuggled close to Andrea while the baby lies on his chest.

+ How he blinks and smiles simultaneously when I tap his nose.

+ Walking to an orthodontist appointment and the office, hand in hand with my amore, Scott wrapped tightly in the Moby.

+ Scott’s small body lying on my chest, moving up and down to his rhythmic breathing, while we both take an afternoon nap.

+ Walking downtown. Scottie's naturally big eyes grow even larger as he takes in the honking, loud music, cars, people, and the wind on his face.

+ How excited and twitterpated I felt last Friday when we left Scott with babysitter Jade and went dancing. After-baby dates are better than ever.

+ The sad look that grows on Scott’s face when he's about to cry. I love his “bahing” and his “buhing” that say, "please hold me" and the quivering of his frowning bottom lip.

+ How joy overtook me last Sunday as I sat in a church pew watching my boys smile at each other, both dressed in their Sunday best.

+ Meeting Papà at the market just before dinner on a weekday. We buy plump fruit that glistens and olive oil, and then walk home together.

+ How I wrap my hands around his bulging belly to hold him upright, and how he looks up at me with those big blue eyes, cocks his head and coos.