Darned if you do, darned if you don't

I have come to learn over the past 8 1/2 months that "mom guilt" is a very powerful thing.

I feel guilty about things I've done, like those times when after dinner with my girlfriends I've stayed to chat in the parking lot too long then realized that Biscuit had gotten really tired and really cranky because it's way past time for him to be snug in his own bed at home.

And I've felt guilty about things I haven't done, like I know the books and Web sites say that we should read to Biscuit a lot, but by the time I get him home from day care, spend some time playing with him, get him fed, get us fed, then get Biscuit dressed and ready for bed, he's asleep, and I realize I didn't read him a book.

Jeff always says the same thing to me, "He's fine. He eats. He sleeps. He poops. And he's happy and smiling more often than not." I know this is true, but I still always second guess myself or feel like I should be doing more. Welcome to motherhood, right?

I wrote in an earlier blog that Biscuit has learned to sit up on his own. What I didn't write was that I didn't see it happen the first time.

Biscuit and I were playing on a quilt in the living room floor, and I was thirsty. So I got up and went to the kitchen for a drink. The top of my can was dirty, so I rinsed it off in the sink. I left Biscuit lying on his belly and by the time I came back, he was sitting up. I missed it.

I missed seeing him do something that, in a baby's life, is a really big deal. Pour on the mom guilt.

The thing is, with him in day care, I just assumed I'd miss a lot of stuff. I figured he'd sit up there first. He'd crawl there first. He'd walk there first. But so far, he's done everything at home.

A friend of mine at work said that his day care center asked if he and his wife wanted to know about accomplishments or not. As in, if your baby starts crawling at day care today, do you want us to tell you about it, or do you want to assume that she did it the for first time when you see her do it later at home? He told them not to tell him. But I told Biscuit's teachers that I want to know. Just because I don't see it the first time doesn't make it any less of a big deal.

Or so I thought.

Spending time with him is another dilemma. I know that I need to take some time for myself and that Jeff and I need to have time for just the two of us. And it's not for lack of babysitters that we rarely get either of those things. We've got several couples just waiting for the chance to hang out with Biscuit for an evening. But spending time away from him is a double-edged sword.

On one hand, I'm a working mom who sends her baby to day care every day. So I feel like I should spend every second I can with him when I'm not at work. On the other hand, sometimes I feel like if I don't get a few minutes by myself, I might just break down into a crumpled heap on the floor.

I took a comp day from work yesterday. It was the first day off (besides a sick day) that I have taken off since Biscuit got here when I didn't have something to do or somewhere to be. Plus, Jeff has to work over the weekend, so he was supposed to be off, too.

My mind went crazy with all the possibilities. We could take a day trip. We could take Biscuit on some sort of outing. We could drive down to Ikea or Concord Mills. We could drive to Blowing Rock just to have a picnic.

But then I realized, I can take Biscuit to day care and have a whole day to myself. Better yet, I can make Jeff take Biscuit to day care then have a whole day to myself. Jeff ended up having to work Friday after all, so I laid out my plan for him, complete with me getting Biscuit ready to go to day care and Jeff taking over from there.

It was so, so nice to crawl back into bed after my boys left the house. Unfortunatey, I couldn't go back to sleep, so I gathered up a pile of magazines I had been wanting to read. I turned the TV on in our bedroom and went back and forth between my magazines, "Jon & Kate Plus 8" and the "Gilmore Girls." It felt like such a guilty pleasure.

And then I started wondering if I was doing a selfish and bad thing by shipping my kid off to day care with total strangers just so I could sit and bed and waste time.

God bless my husband for his patience and understanding. Jeff was able to do his work from home, so he spent part of his morning reassuring me that: 1. Taking time for myself isn't selfish, it makes me a better mother because I need some time to relax and regroup. 2. The teachers at day care are not total strangers. Biscuit's morning teacher had a day off last week. She had to go by the day care to pick up something and couldn't leave without checking in on "her babies." They love him there. So I went back to my magazines and TV.

About noon, I talked to my brother on the phone for a while. He, by the way, said he doesn't understand when people talk about working from home. He said, "How am I supposed to fix a man's air conditioner if I'm at home?" He thinks he's funny.

I took a long shower about 12:30, took my time getting dressed, then went out for a nice lunch with Jeff about 1:30. We drove separate cars to the restaurant so I could leave there and go see a movie at 2:55. My movie lasted a couple of hours, so I had just enough time to run into a clothing store and look around, and after, you guessed it, money guilt, I bought myself a shirt. This left me with about 15 minutes to get to day care and pick up Biscuit.

I thoroughly enjoyed my day, but it was different from "me days" I've had in the past. For one, even though the day was all mine, there was no sleeping late. I was still up at 6:30 a.m., even though I didn't set an alarm. Who needs an alarm when you have a Biscuit?!?

I also had to be constantly aware of the time. You can't really fly by the seat of your pants when you have to be at day care by 6 p.m. to pick up your baby or they'll start charging you $1 a minute for being late.

I also couldn't be too frivolous with money. Day care, diapers and baby food are expensive. Plus, Jeff had hotel expenses for the car show in Carlisle, Pa., from a couple of weeks ago. We spent this past weekend in a hotel in Chimney Rock with my family. And two weeks ago, we had to buy a new refrigerator.

So I guess I've said all of this to say that I think you're darned if you do and darned if you don't.

If you take Curtain No. 1, you realize that if you spend all your time and money on this newest addition to your family, you're not going to have time and money you need for yourself. And if you take Curtain No. 2, you realize that if you don't spend all your time and money on this newest addition to your family, you're going to miss some big moments and feel guilty.

But I've been thinking about how much I enjoyed the movie yesterday. And it was so nice to have a casual lunch at a restaurant with Jeff where we didn't have to rush to get back to work. And I'm wondering which pants I should wear with my new shirt next week at work.

So Monty, I think I'll learn to deal with a little guilt and take Curtain No. 2.

A combo deal

It seems like until now, Biscuit's accomplishments have been spread out far enough that we could enjoy each thing as it happens.

But over the past few weeks, he's gotten his first tooth, learned to sit up by himself, starting to hold his bottle by himself and is getting up on all fours and rocking back and forth like he's ready to take off crawling.

Quite a list of accomplishments!

Now if I can just remember to write it all down in his baby book before I forget when it all happened.

Yankee-Doodle Boy

Yesterday was Biscuit's first Fourth of July. My parents were in town until yesterday afternoon, and Jeff and I had just planned to hang out at home last night. We both like fireworks, but the show in Greensboro is so big, it's just too much of a hassle to get in and out of the place where they have it.

But when a friend called to suggest we meet them for dinner then see the fireworks show in their smaller town, we thought it sounded like fun.

We drove over and had dinner at a good Italian restaurant near their house. Since Biscuit has gotten so good at sitting up, I figured he could try one of the booster seats that they pull up to the table. He was asleep when we got to the restaurant (20 minutes or more in the car and he's down for the count), so we just left him in the car seat and carried him in.

We ordered some cheese bread as an appetizer, salads and pasta dishes. Then I jinxed myself. I thought, "Wouldn't it be nice if Biscuit slept until I was done eating?" So what happened? He woke up as soon as the cheese bread hit the table.

Jeff got one of the booster seats, and I set up the fancy cover thing he got for a baby shower present. It's a padded seat cover that fits over boosters or the front seat on store buggies. We got him all strapped in, then he had his dinner of two jars of baby food - summer vegetable medley and sweet potatoes. He tolerated the veggies and chowed down on the sweet taters.

We left the restaurant and went back to our friends' house. As usual, I had a takeout box from the restaurant with most of my dinner in it. They said the community center where they were doing the fireworks show was within walking distance of their house. And I was more than a little excited that I had a new stroller to take on the excursion.

It was a nice walk until we ran across some brilliant citizens who thought it would be a good idea to park on the side of the street, straddling the sidewalk. Biscuit's stroller has small bicycle-type tires, but still, I don't think off-roading-it should really include having to scale ditches and embankments. But with me pushing, Jeff at the front and a friend on each side, we got the boy safely back onto a cement surface.

We got to the community center, and it looked like everyone in the town had turned out. We found a nice spot and threw down a blanket. I took Biscuit out of his stroller and let him stretch out and play. I was excited about seeing the fireworks because I can't remember the last time I went to a fireworks show. But at the same time, I had no idea how Biscuit would react to the noise, so I was also pretty nervous. Throw in that it was WAY past his bedtime - an hour and a half, to be precise.

The first fountain of sparks lit up the sky, and it was followed by a pretty loud boom. Biscuit jumped, but he didn't make any noise. The next one went off and still nothing. I was holding his face close to mine and talking to him, telling him the colors and saying "Wow" and "Look" and whatever else I could think of to let him know it was okay.

They sent up two or three at one time, then there was a pause of a few seconds. Biscuit's little head started turning all around. He was looking for more fireworks. I was nervous that he would be scared, but here he was looking around for more.

After the show was over, we loaded him back into his stroller, and I figured he'd be asleep before we got back to our friends' house. But with all the excitement, he was still wide awake and looking around. I don't know where he could've gotten that nosiness from!

We didn't even go in when we got back to our friends' house. We just loaded the boy in the car and headed home. We didn't place bets on how fast he'd be asleep, but I'm pretty sure that instead of his normal 20 minutes, it was more like two.

I hope he continues to be okay with fireworks. It would be a fun Fourth of July family tradition.

A long walk to a new stroller

I have loved Biscuit's stroller since the day we got it. All except for one small detail. I can't get the @#$% thing to open and close.

Jeff picked out our stroller. I told him I didn't have a preference, as long as it would be comfortable for Biscuit and had a place for the diaper bag. The stroller or should I say "travel system" that Jeff picked out is a three-wheeled jogging stroller. And let me stop right here and say that our purchase of said stroller has nothing to do with the hope of an exercise plan. We won't be doing any jogging with this stroller unless we're out for a walk and it starts to rain!

Jeff picked this stroller because it has real tires instead of plastic wheels. And because it's a travel system, it came with an infant car seat. The car seat fastens onto the top of the stroller facing backward. Then when the baby is big enough to sit up, he can sit in the stroller seat facing forward.

Once this stroller is up and running, I love it. It handles well. It's very comfortable for Biscuit. It has a big storage basket on the bottom. And it even has a couple of cup holders. (Something I made fun of in the store but have used every single time I've pushed the stroller!)

But it's gotten to the point, over the past few weeks, that I find myself looking for ways not to use the stroller. And that's very unfortunate because like I said, it's a great stroller.

My parents came up this weekend, and Mama and I wanted to go into Kohl's. Kohl's doesn't have buggies, so unless I wanted to carry Biscuit all over the store, I had to get the stroller out. I was dreading it, but I figured Mama would be there to help me get it set up and put down.

I hauled the stroller out of the trunk and got it set up with almost no drama. Biscuit was asleep, so I left him in his car seat, snapped him onto the top of the stroller and away we went. It was so easy getting around inside the store. I had two free hands to look at things, and when I got ready to go to the dressing room, I just wheeled the stroller right in. No problem. I was remembering why I loved the stroller so much.

But when we got back to the car, I remembered why I hated the stroller so much. I tried in vain to break down the @#$% stroller for about 10 minutes. Now, 10 minutes might not sound like a long time, but you try sliding a lever with your thumb and squeezing a long bar with your other fingers while jerking a big stroller into a folded position for 10 minutes. The back of your neck would be sweating just like mine was. Also, add in some words that you never want your son to hear much less say and throw in a few angry tears. That about sums it up.

I called Jeff, who was driving my Daddy around in the Barracuda with the top down. I told him that I hated to ruin his leisurely cruise, but I was in the Kohl's parking lot out on Wendover and I couldn't get the @#$% stroller in the trunk. And the thing is too big to fit in the car without being collapsed. He said they would swing around and head our way.

In the meantime, Mama said, "Where did you get the stroller?" I told her Babies R Us. She said, "That's in this shopping center, isn't it?" I told her it was at the other end, past Target.

I had Biscuit in the car by this point. So Mama kicked the brake off and started pushing the stroller away. I said, "What are you doing?" She said, "I'm pushing it to Babies R Us so they can fold it up and put it in the trunk."

She had quite a walk. She had to pass the old Linens N Things store, Pier 1 and Target, and I guess she didn't think about how it would look for her to push an empty stroller around. This one woman asked her how she was doing. Mama said, "Fine. How are you?" The woman said, "I'm fine. God bless you." But Mama said the woman said the "God bless you" part like she was talking to somebody who had lost her marbles. Mama always walks with a purpose, so I guess it did look pretty funny.

As she was walking into Babies R Us, and I had already pulled into a parking spot. I was pretty upset, so I just sat in the car with Biscuit, figuring she would get someone from the stroller department to fold the thing up, then she'd wheel it out, and I'd stick it in the trunk.

She walked out the door of the store and motioned for me to come in. I stepped out of the car and she said, "Come on in. You're getting a new stroller." I said, "What?!?" And she just motioned for me to come.

I grabbed a buggy and set Biscuit's car seat on top. We wheeled into the front door, and Mama was standing at the customer service desk with her hand on her hip. "Oh, Lord," was all I could think. That was her "taking care of business" stance.

The cashiers seemed to be tip-toeing around her a bit, and I said, "What happened?" She said, "I brought it in, and several people tried to close it but nobody could. So I told them they needed to do something. The woman behind the counter said, 'Can you push it over there?' And I told her I had pushed it all the way from Kohl's, and I wasn't pushing it anywhere else!" That's when the manager came over, and Mama informed her that they were giving us a new stroller.

The manager wheeled a huge box up to the front of the store on handtrucks. I told her that the car seat came with the stroller, but it was working fine. She said she'd give us the stroller and write off the rest as damaged goods. She spread out all the parts in the floor and put it together right there in front of the gift-wrapping station.

After she was done, I opened and closed it a few times to make sure it was okay, and I swear, I think I skipped out of the store. It's SO much better!

It had never even occurred to me to take the stroller back. I learned my lesson, though. It never hurts to ask.

When did that happen?

Most of the major accomplishments so far in Biscuit's life can be tacked on to a specific, certain date.

He smiled for the first time (a real smile, on purpose) on New Year's Eve. He laughed for the first time on Valentine's Day. (What can I say? The boy likes holidays!)

But I can't tie a date to his latest feat. Biscuit is sitting up on his own now. And he has been for a few weeks.

I'm not sure when it happened. And I feel a little guilty about it. Did I miss it? Was I just so busy that I didn't notice? I asked Jeff about it to see if he knew when it might have happened. But he said he didn't know, either.

We finally decided that his sitting up has been more of a gradual accomplishment. He started out sitting up for a second of two then falling over like a sack of potatoes. And slowly but surely, he's gotten better and better at it, so now he sits up for long periods of time and can usually even right himself if he starts to fall over.

Yesterday evening, he sat in a booster seat at a restaurant for the whole meal. Then today, I was putting clothes in the washing machine, and I asked Jeff if he wanted to throw in the shirt he was wearing. He said, "Sure. Can you hold the boy?" I said, "Um, no. I'm putting clothes in the washer. Just set him down in the floor." He did and was able to get his shirt off and in the washer with no problem. And the boy was still sitting right where he left him.

When did our boy get so independent? We have no idea.

Biscuit in training

I'm not ashamed to admit that I had a hard time sending Biscuit to day care. We went to tour several places while I was pregnant, and I left each one crying. Jeff would say, "Did you not like the place?" And I'd always say, "It's fine. I just don't want to send him off with total strangers for hours at a time."

But I also knew that 1. we can't afford for me not to work and 2. and most importantly, I need to work for myself, too. So I knew the day care thing was something I had to do.

I feel like we made a good choice. Jeff had a cold the day we were supposed to tour this place, so I told him I'd go alone and let him know what I thought. Then if he wanted to do a tour later, we could.

I took a tour and liked the place (still cried on the way out), and Jeff said if I had a good feeling about it, it was fine by him.

As my pregnancy neared the end, I started getting nervous about the place I had chosen. I called my Mama and said, "What if they made everything nice because I was coming for a tour. I wonder what it would be like if I just walked in unannounced?"

So when she came up after Biscuit arrived, Mama and Jeff dropped by the day care unannounced. They were both pleased with what they saw. They liked the people there, and they both said all the kids seemed happy. And that's a good sign.

That said, the first week or so that I was back at work, I cried every morning and called at least once during the day. And every time, everything was fine.

But now that Biscuit has been there for a while, I'm really glad he's in day care. Despite bringing home little illnesses (including the cold I have right now), he's socializing with other kids, he's in a safe environment with people who know about learning and development, and best of all, I've got help with teaching him all the things he needs to learn right now.

The day care teachers told me that when I got ready for him to try cereal or baby food, all I had to do was let them know, and they'd start introducing him to it. I told them that I appreciated their offer, but I wanted to at least get him started. After all, how could I get the great pictures and videos of him and the awful faces he made if I wasn't there for the first few feedings?

But after a few times of feeding and refeeding and refeeding, I was wishing for some help. So I started sending baby food to day care. In less than a week, you could hold a spoonful of food in front of Biscuit, and his little mouth would fly right open. Those teachers (one in particular) had trained my boy.

We've been using his Bumbo chair for feedings, but as he's getting bigger, I wanted to go ahead and set up his high chair. So this evening, he had his butternut squash with corn in his new high chair.

I sat him in the chair and strapped him in. Then I turned around to get the tray off the table. When I turned back to Biscuit, he had both arms raised up. I thought, "What is he doing?" Then I realized, he's been eating in a high chair ever since we started sending baby food to day care. His little arms went up because that's what he's learned to do when the high chair tray is coming his way.

Every time something like that happens, I have a little bit less of a problem with sending him to day care.

Biscuitville

Biscuit is sitting in his daddy's lap right now drinking a bottle. The TV is on a local channel and a guy just said he wanted to thank the local restaurant Biscuitville for providing food for their meeting.

When Biscuit heard the word "Biscuitville," he jerked his head toward the TV. He now knows his nickname.

Some people like his nickname and some don't. Everybody enjoys the story of how he got his name.

And just for the record, it goes as follows: Jeff is from upstate New York, and I'm from Georgia and South Carolina. When Jeff found out I was pregnant, he said, "Northern women have buns in the oven, but Southern girls gotta have biscuits." So from then on, he called the baby Biscuit.

Someone sent me a link to another Baby Biscuit blog. I haven't read enough of it to know how that baby got the nickname, but when the mom is talking about their house, she calls it Biscuitville. I wonder if she knows it's the name of a small chain of restaurants?

As people heard our story, the name began to stick. Now I think more people call him Biscuit than his real name. I guess he can make the final call once he's old enough.

Fielding a ground ball

One from the Daddy-man:

Our little boy is changing every day. Once upon a time (actually, just a matter of days ago), you pretty much knew what to expect in the diaper-changing department. What came out would stick to the inside of the diaper. Every time.

But his diet has changed. And that's changed changing time. You've got to be on your toes now, ready to play defense.

Yesterday morning, for the first change of the day, I opened the diaper and my old baseball instincts took over. Turns out, I'm still a solid fielder. I cleanly caught a slow roller before it got past me. Hang a star on that bare-handed play.

Mills, Biscuit Mills

Biscuit could've been mistaken for James Bond last night.

He was at a fancy event. He was dressed in a black tuxedo. He had a custom ride. And all the ladies had their eyes on him.

First spy mission? Real tuxedo? Fancy car? Bond girls? None of the above.

We went to a wedding last night at a nice hotel in town. Biscuit wore a black onesie we found online. It had the white outline of a tuxedo on it. We pushed him through the fancy lobby in his stroller. And the the ladies who surrounded him were mostly moms and grandmas. But still, he looked sharp and got a lot of attention.

This was Biscuit's first wedding. I told the bride that we could get a babysitter, but she said we should bring him. He's a pretty laid back little man, so I figured the worst that could happen is that we'd have to leave the ceremony early.

We got to the hotel early and had to hang out in the lobby for a while. Mr. Nosey had to check out every person who walked past him.

For the wedding, they had set up chairs in a pretty little courtyard. I made sure that we sat in the end seats on the last row, just in case we needed to make a quick escape.

A few minutes before the bride and groom were supposed to come into the ceremony, Biscuit got hiccups ... loud hiccups. I was horrified. We were sitting right beside the video camera and all I could think was that the bride was going to watch her video and wouldn't be able to hear her vows for my Biscuit's hiccups!

Everybody around us was laughing, but I was having a hard time finding the humor. Luckily, his hiccups went away right before the bride and groom came out, and he was a perfect gentleman through the whole ceremony.

For the reception, the bride had made place cards for everybody, including one for Biscuit. I fed him his sweet potatoes before our meal even started, and by the time our salads came out, Biscuit was down for the count.

He slept for about an hour and woke up just in time for music and dancing.

But as I lifted him out of his stroller to dance, I realized his tuxedo was a little damp. We went to the bathroom and of course, there was no changing table. So I figured out that I could wedge him in between two of the sinks and if I could get him to lie really still, we could get things taken care of.

He did a great job and was very patient. And by the time I got his diaper open, I realized that he would need a costume change. I have learned that an extra outfit in the diaper bag is a must, so we were covered. We got back into the banquet room just in time for dancing.

Biscuit loves music. We play old Motown songs and dance around the house a lot. So when he heard some music he was used to, he started jumping up and down in my lap. We even got Jeff out on the floor to dance with us one time.

All in all, Biscuit's first formal affair went off without a hitch.

No means no

We are learning the word "no" ... and we don't like it!

We have a combination DVD/VCR that sits on a shelf under the TV, and it's at the perfect height for some little man to get to.

Biscuit rolled his way over there this morning and started flapping the VCR door open and shut.

I walked over, pulled his hand away, which made him flip over onto his back, then I said, "No."

He looked at me, flipped back over and started flapping the door again.

Again, I pulled his hand over and said, with a little more force this time, "No!"

He then proceeded to have the closest thing to a tantrum that I've seen from him. He let out a holler and jerked his hand away from me. All the while with a tight little scowl on his face. I didn't know whether to laugh or shake him.

Our little back and forth thing happened a couple more times before he finally got the idea that when I said no, he wasn't going to get to do what he wanted to do.

I wonder how long we'll go through this routine before it sticks? 20 ... 30 years?

Say "Cheese!"

I have a lot of pictures of Jeff and Biscuit together. But, as I have complained to Jeff on several occasions, I don't have a lot of me with Biscuit.

There are a couple of reasons for that:. 1. I hate, hate, hate to have my picture taken. 2. Every time Jeff is around to take pictures of Biscuit and me together, it's usually in the morning before I've had my shower and my hair is flying in 80 different directions or on the weekend when I'm wearing no makeup and I've just spent an hour cleaning the bathrooms!

But a friend of mine took this picture of Biscuit and me this past weekend that I really, really like.

My friend threw a dinner party, and Biscuit was in rare form. He was pretty much the entertainment for the evening. My boy is a born showman. Every time the camera was pointed at him, he grinned his little head off. He does that when we take pictures of him, too. Everyone thinks we've trained him that way. But really, he's just a smiley, little kid.

In the picture, Biscuit is fixing to give me one of his open-mouthed slobber kisses. How can something be so sweet and so gross all at the same time?!?

Growing, growing, grown

Biscuit was born three weeks early, and I never knew three weeks could make such a difference. He's been a little behind in size and development since he got here.

The doctor told us that at some point during his first year, he would probably hit a couple of growth and developmental spurts. He said he'd probably pick up weight quickly and would conquer several physical feats all at once.

I'm wondering if this is the week.

Last week, Biscuit was taking about five or six bottles each day, plus a jar of baby food for lunch and one for dinner. Yesterday, he had a jar of food for breakfast, one for lunch, one for an afternoon snack and two, count 'em two jars for dinner. From two jars a day to five in just a few days!

I enjoyed feeding him the first few times. He made awful faces, and I had to feed him each bite three or four times. Babies are born with an involuntary tongue thrust that pushes out anything they think doesn't belong in their mouths. So in other words, if they put something in their mouths, it's fine. Everything else comes right back out!

The day care teachers asked if I wanted them to start him on baby food. They said that some parents let the day care staff teach their babies to eat. I knew they would be better at teaching him than me, but I was really enjoying watching him learn to do something new.

But honestly, after several times of feeding and refeeding Biscuit, then hosing him down afterwards, I was ready to let the teachers have a crack at it.

Within a couple of days, you could hold a spoonful of food in front of Biscuit, and he would drop that jaw with his mouth wide open.

Now that he has the hang of it, it's pretty easy to feed him. The problem now is that you can't get it in him quick enough. As he sits in his chair, if you don't get the food in his mouth fast enough, he will start to lean over toward the jar. It's pretty funny to watch him. I guess he figures the closer he is to the jar, the quicker it will get to his mouth!

I'm guessing that when I was a kid, there were probably one, maybe two levels of baby food. Probably pureed stuff, then pureed stuff that was a little chunkier. It's not so simple anymore.

Biscuit has been on Level 1 food so far, which is just veggies or fruit and water pureed together. They told us to start him on veggies first because if he had sweet fruit first, he might not take to the veggies. I can't say as I would blame him. Who would want soupy peas when you could have yummy bananas?

I went to Target tonight to get him some Level 2 stuff. You wouldn't believe the variety he'll have now. Level 1 included peas, green beans, butternut squash, carrots, sweet potatoes, applesauce, pears, bananas and prunes. With Level 2, they start getting creative. He'll get to try banana mango, green beans with brown rice, apple blueberry, sweet potatoes with apples and more. Some of the combos sound a little questionable to me, but hey, if he likes it, I'll feed it to him.

Biscuit's little growth spurt has led to a bigger size diapers and several outfits that are now in the give-away bag. It's good to see him flourishing, but can't he just slow down a little bit?

The Daddy Man's Day

My first Father's Day, by The Daddy Man

I missed the beginning of my first Father's Day because I slept in. When I finally dragged my lazy butt out of bed and stumbled out into the living room, Biscuit and Kimmy were on a blanket in the floor playing with Biscuit's toys.

Once the boy was played out, he crashed into a nap, and Kimmy made pancakes ... and I helped. She doesn't let me do much in the kitchen, but I'm a master at stirring. She has to pull in the reigns on me, though, because I tend to get stir crazy. "Don't overstir the batter," she said, "or the pancakes will be tough." "How tough can pancakes be?" I asked. She was not amused.

Once my Father's Day pancakes were done, I made myself some Father's Day coffee. The pancakes and coffee came out good, and it didn't take long for both to be gone.

Kimmy gave me several options of how I wanted to spend my day. They included taking a picnic somewhere, going out for lunch or dinner or sending me off on my own to see a movie. I opted out of the plans and told Kimmy I'd rather just spend the day at home with her and The Boy.

Next came presents. I already had a set of baseball cards that Kimmy made for me. There was one for each month of Biscuit's life so far. The front of the cards had pictures of him from each month and the back had stats from that month ... learned to roll over, first Christmas, ate baby food for the first time, etc. They also included his length and weight for each month. They're pretty cool.

And speaking of cool, I got an army green T-shirt with a red griffin on it. Aside from being Kimmy's home town, a griffin is also a mythological creature with the body of a lion and the head and wings of an eagle.

I also got some cards from friends and family. I got one from Biscuit that talked about how he saves his morning spit-up just for me. I got a nice card from Kimmy, too. She wrote something really sweet on the inside, but she would kill me dead if I repeated it. The teachers at day care made cards for the dads and put the kids' footprints inside. That's a keeper.

We spent the afternoon just hanging out. The Boy is getting big, strong and restless. I spent a good portion of the day helping him stand up so he could bounce up and down and holler.

The day was capped off with a rare ribeye steak, some scalloped potatoes and some broccoli. Fantabulous. It icks Kimmy out to serve what she calls "raw" meat, but it was just the way I like it.

After dinner, we had individual chocolate peanut butter cakes. Two great tastes that taste great together. I ate all of mine. The last few bites were sickly sweet but still wonderful.

Never left the house. Only opened the door to shoot the squirrels with my pellet gun. All in all, it was a wonderful day. Can't wait 'til next year.

The thud heard 'round the world

We went to S.C. for Alyssa's birthday party last week. I had to make her a butterfly cake. Her party was on Saturday, and we spent the night at Mama's.

Sunday morning, Mama went to church, and Daddy and Jeff drove to town to get brake pads and rotors for our car. Biscuit and I stayed home to get lunch started before the whole crew came over.

I took Biscuit to the room where we sleep to change his diaper, and we started playing on the bed. I always grab Biscuit's feet, and he jerks them away from me. But I didn't take into consideration that the bed we sleep on there is a full size, and ours at home is a king.

I grabbed his foot, he jerked it away and ended up having just enough momentum to roll right off the bed before I could grab him.

I have never heard a worse noise than the thud of him hitting the floor.

I ran around to the other side of the bed and scooped him up. I wanted to squeeze him tight and tell him I was sorry and that everything was okay. But I also needed to check him out and make sure that everything could move properly and that there were no bumps on his head.

He was screaming like somebody was killing him and since I could tell he was okay physically, I knew it just scared him.

He cried so hard and so long that he wore himself out and got sleepy. He was still crying and was almost sleep, and I started thinking that if someone has a concussion, they're not supposed to go to sleep.

So the baby was crying, I was crying, I was scared to death that I had hurt him, I didn't know whether to let him go to sleep or not. It was a bad scene.

Luckily, just then Mama came in from church. She took the whole thing very seriously, but I could tell that she was laughing at me a little, too. She said, "Kim, if that's the worst thing that happens to him, he'll be fine."

A friend of mine told me last night that she heard an old wives' tale that says if a baby falls off the bed in his first year, he'll live a long life. Personally, I think some woman's kid fell off the bed, and she made that up to make herself feel better.

And now, I believe it with all my heart!

Hangin' with the mayor

Biscuit went to his first cruise-in last night. Jeff took the Barracuda over to a once-a-month cruise-in and car parade in Reidsville. And because it'll be a while before Biscuit can ride in a convertible, he and I drove over and met Jeff there.

We saw a lot of really nice cars, including a '69 Mustang fastback and a '69 Mercury Cougar (two of my favorites). Jeff really liked a '53 Mercury, a really nice '68 Dodge Charger and a fairly rare '64 Ford Falcon Sprint. Coincidentally, we're watching them rebuild a Falcon just like it on Spike's "Muscle Car" TV show right now. We also saw a '55 Chevy, the last Chevy my daddy owned. He said Chevys got ugly after that.

They barricaded off two city blocks in downtown Reidsville and parked the cars along the sides and the middle of the street. With Biscuit in his stroller, it was easy for us to check out everything.

I was a little disappointed by the parade, though. It would be more accurate to call it a stop-and-go. The cars drove from their parking places to the corner of the block, where they were interviewed on camera (They show the event live on Reidsville Channel 47.). Then they were done. There wasn't a lot of movement to the parade, so I enjoyed it better just to look at the cars standing still.

As Jeff finished his parade interview and drove away, he wasn't sure what to do next. So he stopped a police officer and asked, "Where do we go next?" And the police officer said, "Are you done?" Jeff said, "I think so." And the officer said, "Well, you can go on home, I guess."

After Biscuit and I checked out all the cars, we rolled over and stood with Jeff by the Barracuda. This man came up, motioned to the Barracuda and said, "Y'all need to buy something like this for your little boy." I answered and said, "This IS his. And we just know if won't be long until he's asking to drive it to the prom."

The man stayed and talked for a few minutes. He asked what Griffin's name was and where we were from. Then he stuck his hand out to Jeff and said, "By the way, I'm Jim Festerman, mayor of Reidsville." Then he gave us a pin and said to give it to Griffin when he got older and tell him that Reidsville was a good place to be.

We agreed with him on that and will definitely go back again.

All Ya Gotta Do Is Act Naturally

We have a good morning routine going right now. It actually starts the night before.

Biscuit usually goes to sleep anytime between 8:30 and 10 p.m. And we've figured out that if we wake him up between 10 and 10:30 p.m. and feed him as much of a bottle as he can stay awake to eat, he will usually sleep all the way through until 7 a.m. (okay, sometimes it's 5:30, but still, it's better than having to get up every 3 hours like we did in the beginning!).

Since 7 a.m. seems to be a good wake-up time for him, that's when I get up, too. Here's how it usually goes:

• 7 a.m. - I get up. (Some days this is a pipe dream, and I have to get up whenever Biscuit wakes me up. But nowadays, more often than not ... knock on wood ... it's about 7 a.m.)
• 7:10 a.m. - Fix lunch for Jeff and me. Fix Biscuit's bottles. Get the diaper bag packed. Pick out the tasty-yummy-licious baby food flavor Biscuit will have that day for lunch. Then take all the packed-up stuff, including my pocketbook, keys, work ID and cell phone to the car.
• 7:40 a.m. - Fix Biscuit a bottle and pass it off to Jeff.
• After that, my part is mostly done. I jump in the shower and get ready for work. (My getting ready is usually interrupted several times, though, because I'll hear Jeff and Biscuit having fun and I'll get jealous and have to go play for a few minutes, too.)
• By the time I'm ready, Jeff has fed Biscuit, given him a wipedown, changed his diaper, dressed him, brushed his hair, put a bib on him and played with him long enough that he's sleepy again.

We bought a nice digital video camera awhile back to document Biscuit's comings and goings. And no, I haven't transferred any of the videos to our computer yet! (I have some guilt about falling behind on the videos and still camera pictures.)

Anyway, this morning, I asked Jeff if one morning I could videotape him getting Biscuit ready to go to day care, just as a record of our morning routine.

And this was one of those times I love my husband so, so much: He looked at Biscuit, looked back at me and immediately burst into singing Buck Owens ...

"They're gonna put me in the movies.
They're gonna make a big star out of me.
They're gonna put me in the movies.
All I gotta do is act naturally."

Long-distance service

Both sets of Biscuit's grandparents live far away. One set of grandparents live in South Carolina and the other grandparents live in New York. So Jeff and I are always trying to come up with ways to keep them involved in Biscuit's life.

We send pictures (TONS of pictures!), I keep this little blog of stuff that happens, and as I'm figuring out my new video camera, I'll have video records, too. And recently, we've gotten several family members to read books to Biscuit into Jeff's digital voice recorder. I'm going to burn the files onto CDs so when we sit down to read with Biscuit, he can have family members read to him as we turn the pages.

But the funniest thing right now is to see Biscuit "talking" on the phone. He doesn't understand the phone yet, so when we put it up to his ear, the first thing he wants to do is grab it and stick it in his mouth ... of course, that's what he wants to do with EVERYthing right now.

But as soon as he hears a voice on it, he gets really still and really quiet and starts to look around the room. He is really good at recognizing familiar voices, so as soon as he hears his grandmas' voices, he starts looking for them. He hears them, therefore they must be here. He doesn't get why he can hear them but not see them.

But he's not a phonehead yet. After a couple of minutes, he either wants to go back to trying to get the phone in his mouth or he starts pushing the phone away from his head or he starts "talking" back to them.

Guess which of those things the grandmas love the most?!?

Mama vs. Daddy

Now that Biscuit is rolling and scooting around, we have suddenly become aware of all the stuff that gets in his path while he's on the move.

I realize that kids have to learn from experience, but I don't really want to hand him a fork, point out an electrical outlet and say, "Stick it in there and see what happens." At the same time, he does have to learn that when you run into things, it hurts.

Yesterday evening Biscuit started heading toward his Daddy's chair. He rolled right off the quilt we put down for him in the living room floor, onto the carpet and right into the metal leg of his swing. Jeff just watched as Biscuit stopped for a minute, looked around, rolled back the other way, then went right back to playing. I wasn't in the room. Jeff told me about it.

But this morning, it was just me and Biscuit. He rolled off the same quilt, onto the carpet and right into the TV cabinet. Maybe the wood cabinet hurt more than the metal leg of the swing. But I also wondered, did he cry because I was in the room instead of Jeff?

How much of the mama vs. daddy stuff is true? Do mama's baby their babies more? Do daddy's make little boys toughter?

I'm not sure, but I think I got my answer when I scooped Biscuit up to comfort him before his cry even got wound up good, then Biscuit and I yelled at that mean ol' cabinet for jumping right in the path of his rolling!

So in the next few months as Biscuit gets more mobile, I think Jeff and I need to strike more of a balance. Jeff needs to get better at the comforting thing, and I need to pause for a second before I scoop the boy up and hold him. Isn't it amazing how much these little critters teach their parents?!?

Rollin', rollin', rollin'

Biscuit is on the move ... well, sort of.

He has figured out how to get from place to place by a very awkward combination of rolling, scooting and pushing off of furniture. It's quite entertaining to watch, but it does break your heart a little when he gets frustrated. It must be hard to see where you want to go and not be able to get there under your own power.

This morning, I was getting ready in the bathroom, and Jeff was dressing Biscuit. Every time Jeff would move his hands off the boy, Biscuit would do a quick rollover and raise himself up to see what I was doing. A yoga instructor would be very impressed. He was doing an excellent cobra pose.

I don't know which was funnier, seeing how nosey Biscuit was being (which is to be expected from the son of two journalists, I guess) or watching Jeff wrestle to get him spruced up and clothed.

To draw a mental picture for you, did you ever see a crocodile start into a death roll when the Crocodile Hunter put one of those noose things around its snout? It was like that!

My brother refers to Biscuit as Limp (as in the metal band Limp Bizkit). And coincidentally, Limp Bizkit has a song called "Rollin'." So guess what Jeff sings now when Biscuit's on the move?

Missing the moments

I knew when we put Biscuit in day care that there would be some moments I would miss. I knew there was the possibility of him accomplishing many firsts when I wasn't in the room. But I didn't think about him doing things for his Daddy when I wasn't home!

I came home last night and found out that Biscuit had scooted himself across the living room floor. He rolled off his play mat onto his belly and army crawled a few feet until he bonked his head on Jeff's chair. So Jeff picked him up and made a fuss (as big a fuss as Jeff makes).

When I got home, Biscuit was in Jeff's lap almost asleep. He had worked so hard that he could barely keep his eyes open.

Jeff told me what happened. And because he knows that I'm all about the details, he did a really good job of describing the whole thing to me. But still, I couldn't help but be a tiny bit sad that I wasn't here to see it.

I figure the only way I can get even is to make sure he says "mama" before he says "dada!"

Travel hangover

We have to count our lucky stars that Biscuit is a good traveler. Well, all except for the day after we return. We’ve come to call them “travel hangovers.”

The day after we get home from a trip, I almost hate to take him to day care because he is usually cranky and crabby and doesn’t eat or sleep well. I guess it’s something akin to baby jetlag!

When we travel, Biscuit sleeps in his pack and play. Remember when these were called playpens? I do. Because much to the chagrin of some of my younger mom friends, I STILL call it a playpen!
Anyway, his playpen has a bassinet insert with a mattress and sheets, so it’s a comfy set up for him.

I’ve always told my friends when they’ve moved that the first thing you do when you get to your new place is to set up your bed and get the sheets on it. That way, whenever you hit the wall and can’t do anything else, your bed is ready and waiting for you.

That’s sort of what I do for Biscuit, too.

As soon as we unload the car, I set up his playpen, so once he gets tired, he’s ready to go. But even though it’s his playpen, he still knows that his playpen is sitting in a room that isn’t home. And he never sleeps quite as well away from home as he does when his playpen is set up in familiar surroundings.

Plus, he’s just a nosy little rascal. He is very aware of his surroundings, so when we’re away from home, he really fights going to sleep. I think he’s afraid he might miss something!

I hope he continues to be a good traveler. With Grandmama Linda 2½ hours away and Grandma Janice 10 hours away, this boy will be spending a good part of his childhood in the car!

A comfortable ride

The teachers at day care and some of my mom friends seem to be amazed that Biscuit doesn’t hate his car seat. He might get to that point some day, but for right now, he doesn’t seem to mind it at all.

When he was a tiny baby, we had this cool sleeping bag thing (real name: bunting) that strapped into his car seat to keep him warm. I never had to force him into a coat because this thing was lined with furry sheepskin fabric. The straps of his car seat fit right through slits in the back of the bunting and had zippers up each side. We would plop him in the seat, zip him up and be ready to go!
We had a lighter weight version of the same thing for early spring.

Now that it’s warmer and he’s sitting directly in the car seat, we are using this thing we got as a shower gift called (no lie) a Piddle Pad. The Piddle Pad is soft on the front and rubbery on the back. It’s basically a lining that fits under Biscuit’s rear end to catch any sort of spillover from diaper accidents.

It only took one such accident for us to say, “Hey. Didn’t we get a shower gift that might help out in these occasions?”

Now that he’s grabbing things, we attached a chiming frog to his car seat for him to play with. It has a Velcro strap that attaches to the handle, so it hangs down in front of him. It is bright green and yellow and has chimes inside it, so Biscuit really enjoys grabbing it and making those chimes sound.

His car seat faces the back of the car, so we even have a mirror that mounts on the back seat so I can see his face in my rearview mirror. Of course, after 20 minutes or more of riding, he’s always asleep anyway!

So by putting to use all the tricked-out gadgets we’ve gotten, Biscuit has found himself quite comfy in his car seat.

Busy, busy, busy

It seems like the months of April and May have just flown by. Biscuit seems to have gotten bigger by the minute, and it seems that our schedule has gotten busier by the minute.

We had an Easter trip, a birthday party in another state, a quick beach vacation, a weekend at Grandmama Linda’s house for Mother’s Day, a 3-hour round trip to visit family in another part of the state and a family reunion in Georgia. We also had a springtime visit from Grandma Janice and Grandpa Jim, a going-away event at the paper (Biscuit attended) and a 6-month checkup for Biscuit at the pediatrician.

I know you shouldn’t wish away time, but I think I’ll be glad when June gets here!

P.S. If you notice that I often post several blogs in one day, here’s why: I don’t always have time to get to the computer when blog ideas occur to me. So I jot them down on a notepad in my pocketbook and sit down and get them in writing when I can. That might defeat the purpose of bliggity-blogging, but I’m doing it my way!

Lots of Mamas

I grew up in a small community where it was okay to call down rowdy kids, no matter who they actually belonged to. I've always felt like I grew up with 10 Mamas and 15 Grannies.

So I was really excited when Biscuit was able to get a taste of that on Easter Sunday. We went to the sunrise service at Mama's church. I didn't know if Biscuit would get too loud during the service, so Mama told me that when we got to church, we should bring him out to the fellowship building to hang out with her until the service was over. Mama is a member of the food committee, so she and several of my "other Mamas" were preparing breakfast for the church congregation.

In the past few years, the food committee members have realized that since sunrise service is so early, it's a lot easier for them just to order biscuits to serve for breakfast. The closest Bojangle's is about 20 minutes away from the church, so Mama and one of the other ladies drove over to pick up the biscuits. (The manager at Bojangle's said they had orders for 900 biscuits for Easter morning and that wasn't counting the customers who were coming in.)

So when Jeff, Biscuit and I arrived at church, we walked out to the fellowship building to find Mama, but she wasn't back yet. Two of the other ladies said a quick, "Hey, Kim," then immediately ignored me and started staring at and talking to Biscuit. (It's okay. I'm getting used to being ignored!)

I told them that Mama said to leave Biscuit with her, but I guess I would take him into the service with me since she wasn't back. They told me really fast that I was not taking him anywhere. I was trying to ask them if they wanted me to stay, but before I could even ask the question, they told me to just go away.

After the service, we all walked out for breakfast, and there was Biscuit, in the arms of one of my "other Mamas" surrounded by all the rest of them!

Jeff and I had a nice breakfast, and I had plenty of time to catch up with friends and people I hadn't seen for a while.

Fancy Easter clothes

I wanted to get Biscuit a nice outfit for Easter. We were planning to go to Easter sunrise services at Mama's church. But I couldn't believe how expensive fancy baby clothes were. There were seersucker suits for $25. There were embroidered overalls for $22.50. I just couldn't see paying that for an outfit he'd only wear once or twice.

So I got really excited when I went into Old Navy and the guy at the front of the store said that for one-day only, each item in the infants section was $5.

We got Biscuit a pair of grown-up-looking khaki pants, complete with little slit pockets on the back. We also got him a blue and white striped oxford shirt with yellow stripes on the placket and a navy sweater vest with yellow and white stripes around the neck.

We have to wash all of Biscuit's clothes before he wears them, and because his shirt and pants were 100% cotton, I had to iron those little tiny duds. I made a good attempt at it, but honest to goodness, my iron was bigger than the pants and shirt!

When we got to Mama's house (in S.C.), she pulled out her starch can and finally got all the wrinkles out. The whole ensemble was so cute. Biscuit even had a hand-me-down pair of navy slip-on shoes, so he was ready to go.

We got up early Easter morning and, of course, it wasn't early enough. So as we were rushing around, we didn't have time to take pictures of him. I told Jeff not to worry, we could take some when we got back home.

I was in such a rush, I forgot to pack bottles and formula in the diaper bag. So we stayed for the sunrise service and breakfast and then headed back to Mama's house. Since we knew Mama and Daddy wouldn't be home from church for a while, we decided to take a nap.

I just put Biscuit down in his fancy clothes so I wouldn't have to re-dress him for pictures later. He woke up hungry, so Jeff started giving him a bottle. ... And then it happened.

Jeff heard the grunting noises and then he heard the other noises. Biscuit's diaper had exploded and there was poo EVERYWHERE ... all over his new pants, shirt and sweater vest ... all over Jeff's shirt ... all over the pillowcase on the bed (we're still not sure how that happened).

So I can tell you that he was looking sharp on Easter morning, but I don't have any proof of it. We're planning to dress him up again so we can take some pictures. I'll be sure to post a couple here.

Growing like a weed

Baby clothes come in 3-month increments, so it should be obvious to me that babies grow fast. But it's amazing how one day they fit into an outfit and the very next day, it's in the giveaway bag.

We love to put Biscuit in the footed, zip-up sleepers. They're easy to put on, you don't have to worry about him keeping his little tiny socks on, and best of all, Biscuit seems to be comfortable and happy when he's wearing them.

So the other day, when we got Biscuit home from day care, Jeff started changing his diaper and clothes. I told him that the little blue sleeper he was trying to squeeze Biscuit into was a little tight the last time he wore it. But Jeff said, "Nah, it's fine," and zipped Biscuit right up.

A couple of hours later, I took Biscuit in to change his diaper. As I unzipped his sleeper, I noticed a red line down his chest. The outfit that Jeff said was fine had left the imprint of a zipper all the way down Biscuit's chest and belly.

Needless to say, Jeff took all the Gerber 0-3 month sleepers and put them in a bag for our friends' little boy Walker.

So of course I took the opportunity to say "I told you so." But then out of sheer guilt, I had to admit something pretty funny to Jeff.

Last week, I was trying to dress Biscuit in one of the same zip-up sleepers. He was wriggling around while I was trying to wrestle him into the outfit. I said, "Boy! Straighten your legs out so I can get you dressed." He kept squirming around, and I told him again, "Griffin. Straighten your legs out."

Then I realized, he couldn't straighten his legs out. The outfit was too short for his legs!

Razz-a-ma-tazz

We don't live by "The Books," but we do try to consult them periodically to see what kind of progress Biscuit should be making.

Most of the books that we have list the specifics of child development month by month, but because Biscuit was born three weeks early, he's usually about three weeks behind where he should be.

A couple of weeks ago, I read the chapter on four-month-olds, and I couldn't figure out one thing he should be doing ... razzing.

What is razzing, you ask? Check out these videos, and you'll see!

The family tartan will be worn with pride

I wrote this column for the newspaper and thought since it includes Biscuit, it would be good to post it here.

--------------------------------------------

My family has a checkered past.

And those checks are blue, red and green.

I’ll be wearing that blue, red and green plaid next Monday, not as a fashion statement, but as a tribute to who I am. Or at least where I came from.

April 6 is National Tartan Day. And with my Scottish heritage behind me, I’ll be wearing the plaid pattern, or tartan, that represents my family, Clan Ross.

There are a lot of rules and traditions about how and when tartans should be worn — as kilts, scarves or banners. But all those aside, I just like that I have a physical symbol of my ancestry — an ancestry that begins for me with my Granny.

It’s her tartan that I’ll be wearing next week. It was something of hers that I really wanted after she passed away in January.Granny was never overly concerned with our distant past. She couldn’t tell you about the military victories or losses of Scotland or the holiday traditions and rites of passage. But when it came to our family’s history, she was the one who knew everybody — and everybody’s mama.

She was my last grandparent. And she was the only one of my grandparents who got to know me as an adult.

The best thing about Granny was that, even though she had some definite ideas about what she wanted for me, she never pushed me toward anything. I told her I didn’t want to get married or have kids. But when I came back years later and introduced her to my husband, she never said I told you so. She just told me how happy she was that I had found someone of my own.

And when I told Granny I was pregnant, she was over the moon. She couldn’t wait to meet that new baby.

Granny got to meet my son a little over a week before she died. Something pushed me to take an impromptu trip to Georgia to see her and show off my pride and joy. Two days later, she was taken to the hospital. She didn’t come home.

Speaking in Southern drawls that slowly replaced the Scottish brogues of our ancestors, many of my family members told me that they believe she was just hanging on until she could meet my son. She had talked about how she had lived a full life and that there wasn’t much left on this earth for her.

I don’t know, maybe that’s true.

But I do know that the first time she laid eyes on my son, her whole face lit up. And when she reached out to grab his little hand and he smiled at her, I nearly lost it.

I’m still sad about losing my Granny. But I know that I have all the things in my life that she ever wanted for me.And just as she taught me about family, I’ll pass along our history to my son.

I’ll start next Monday when I wear a little bit of blue, red and green.

Kim Mills also has embraced her Scottish heritage by tasting haggis and taking bagpipe lessons. Contact her at 373-7014 or kim.stacksmills@news-record.com.

Still, after 36 years ...

Griffin is getting over his first ear infection.

He wasn’t acting like himself last Friday night, then his cheeks got red. So I took his temperature, and it was 101.5. I gave him some Tylenol a couple of times during the night, then we went to his pediatrician’s office Saturday morning. They have office hours from 8 a.m. to noon on Saturdays, so that was a big help instead of having to take him to a doc-in-the-box or the ER.

The doctor said that other than his right ear, was looked fine. He kept talking about what a good baby Biscuit is and how cute he is. I asked Jeff, I wonder if he says that to everybody or if he just took a liking to our Biscuit!

We had to give him Tylenol every 4 hours Saturday through today, and we got an antibiotic that he gets twice a day through Tuesday. We’ve had quite a time getting the medicine in him, because he isn’t used to having anything in his mouth but a bottle of formula. But we’ve gotten way more in his mouth than he dribbled down his chin, so I figure we’re doing okay.

But the oddest part about the whole experience is that the first couple of times I tried to give him his antibiotic, I gagged. I thought it was weird because I wasn't upset about giving it to him, and the medicine didn't really have a bad smell or anything.

So I told Mama about it, and she said that I got the same medicine when I was little and had ear aches, and that they had to force the medicine in me. All I can figure is that I must've really hated it, because here it is 36 years later, and I STILL don't like being near that medicine.

He won't go nekkid

We were so lucky with our baby showers. We were truly overwhelmed by everyone's generosity. We're also hooked-in for hand-me-downs from friends with boys a little older than Biscuit.

But even so, when I decided over the weekend to do a spring/summer inventory, what I found just blew me away. Here's what Biscuit has:

31 short-sleeved onesies
8 one-piece short-sleeved rompers
14 pairs of pants
5 pairs of shorts
3 bathing suits
1 bathing suit coverup with a hood
6 hats (3 bucket hats, one baseball cap and one floppy sun-blocking hat)

Can you throw a shower every couple of years until they leave for college?

Biscuit on film

Right now, I have two options for taking video of Biscuit: My mother-in-law gave me her old video tape recorder, and my point-and-shoot digital camera has video built in.

I was happy to get the camcorder from my mother-in-law, because I was afraid to spend the money to buy a digital recorder unless I knew for sure that I would use it. And I wanted to use the video setting on my point-and-shoot camera to see how difficult it is to upload video online.

After realizing that I've learned to pick up the camcorder pretty frequently, and it's really, really easy to e-mail video or post it online, I think we're ready to buy our own.

Here's Biscuit having some tummy time in our living room floor. He's really finding his voice these days. He's learning to make all sorts of noises, including ones that are so loud that he scares himself. He jumps at the sound and looks around like, "What was that?!?"

Grabbing on

Biscuit has just started to grab things - toys, his bottle, his burp cloth, my hair (ouch!).

So I took a little video of him having a good ol' time hanging on to his burp cloth.

The Bumbo

Biscuit's Bumbo seat is great! We got it as a shower gift. It's a thick foam chair with a high, stiff back, so it puts him in the position he'll be in when he learns to sit up.

So far, he seems to enjoy hanging out in it ... well, as long as it's not for more than 10 minutes!

"It's just a bit of poo!"

Biscuit fell asleep about 7 p.m. last night after fighting tooth and nail to try to stay awake. So when he woke up about 10:15, he was quite ready to eat. I was tired and ready to go to bed, but Jeff was finishing up some work stuff.

So I changed Biscuit into his night clothes (a short-sleeved onesie with a sleep sack over it), fixed a bottle and settled into the rocking chair in our bedroom. I had my Boppy around my waist and a burp cloth on my shoulder, everything moving right along as usual.

Then I heard this grunting noise and thought, “Oh great! He’s going to mess up his diaper, and I’m going to have to change it. I’m tired. I’m sleepy. And the last thing I want to deal with is a diaper full of poo!”

I always wait a minute or two before I change a messy diaper, just to make sure the job is done.
So I got up from the rocker and spread out one of our waterproof changing pads on the bed. I started to unzip the sleepsack and felt something wet and slimy on my hand.

HULL BREACH!!!! HULL BREACH!!!!!

The inside of Biscuit's onesie and sleepsack were covered with liquid poo! It was all over his legs and feet.

So I did what any good mom would do, I yelled for my husband. “Jeff! Help!”

Jeff came into the bedroom, and I swear, two grown, college-educated adults stood there dumbfounded for a minute before we could even begin to take care of this mess. There’s a line in the movie “Johnny English” where Rowan Atkinson says (in a very proper British accent), “Oh, do get it off. It’s just a bit of poo.” And that line was more than a little appropriate for that moment.

So we formulated a plan of attack, which included about 10 minutes of getting the poor child undressed while trying to contain the mess. Then he had to get a bath at 11:15 at night!

Meanwhile, I just happened to glance up at Biscuit's face, and he had this HUGE grin on his face.

Right then, I knew that although the past couple of weeks have been really rough, and I’m tired, stressed out and generally all-around grumpy, having this little critter has made such a huge difference over the past four months. He has changed my whole outlook on life.

Roll over, Biscuit

We took Biscuit for his 4-month checkup on March 9. As we were waiting for the doctor to come in, I put Biscuit on his stomach on the exam table. He swung his arm up and rolled over for the very first time.

The doctor came in and started asking us all kinds of questions, then he said, “What about rolling over?” I said, “He just did.”

He said, “When did he start?” And I said, “No, you don't understand, he JUST did. As in, he did it for the first time a couple of minutes ago while we were waiting for you to come in.” He laughed and said that Biscuit must have known he was going to ask about rolling over and just wanted to go ahead and get it out of the way.

Biscuit on wheels

We took Griffin for his first stroller ride on a recent Saturday at Bur-Mil Park. They have nice, paved walking trails that run alongside Lake Higgins. It's very pretty, and we took lots of pictures.

And if you take a look at the picture to the right, you'll see why Jeff doesn't get to push the stroller anymore!

Then my friend Sadie (she has a 1-year-old) and I took our boys to the mall Sunday afternoon. And I can tell you that learning to operate a stroller at the mall is a whole new set of skills.

First off, Sadie knows where all the elevators are. (And just so you know, the department store elevators are way more stroller-friendly that the ones in the middle of the mall.)
Secondly, some of the racks in the stores are so close that you can barely get a stroller through, much less if you have a kid old enough to start grabbing things.

And lastly, getting the stroller, kid, diaper bag, any purchases and yourself in and out of the car is quite an adventure all its own!

But I think after spending the day there with an experienced stroller-handler like Sadie, I'm ready for a trip on my own.

LOUD NOISES!!!

There's a line in a Will Ferrell movie where during an argument a guy yells, "LOUD NOISES!!!" So of course Jeff and I say that to each other all the time ... when the TV is too loud, when a car with a loud radio goes by or when we can hear someone's personal cell phone call across the store at the mall.

Well, now Biscuit is expressing his distaste of loud noises.

Jeff and Biscuit stayed home together yesterday and when I came in from work, I asked how their day was. Jeff said, "Well, he only cried twice, but both times, he cried so hard that his face turned red, and there was a second's pause before he caught his breath."

I asked what in the world made him so upset, and Jeff said, "I sneezed while I was feeding him."

It's really weird but for the past week or so, Griffin seems to be bothered by the sound of coughs and sneezes while he eats.

So this morning, Griffin sneezed twice in a row while we were getting him dressed for day care. Jeff said, "Boy! I sneeze once and you freak out, but you sneeze two times in a row and that's just fine!" Biscuit just looked up at him and smiled his biggest toothless smile.

Talking to Biscuit

I love to hear Jeff and Biscuit talking to each other. Granted, Biscuit doesn't so much talk as he coos, yells, squeals and babbles. But still, they often seem to be having conversations that make perfect since.

When we first brought Biscuit home, Jeff said he didn't know what to say to him. I told him that it didn't even have to make sense, he just needed to let Biscuit get used to his voice. So I was happy one day close to Christmas when I heard Jeff just talking away to Biscuit in the living room. I walked quietly through the kitchen to eavesdrop. Then I realized that Jeff wasn't talking to Biscuit, he was reading to him. And what was he reading? The instruction manual to the GPS he got as a gift from his parents.

In this perfect sing-songy voice, Jeff said, "Before you use you Garmin GPS, you first have to let the battery run completely down."

But like I said, it doesn't matter what you're saying, just as long as you're talking.

My sick boys

As a first-time parent, I worry about everything. Is Biscuit warm enough? Is he too warm? Did he eat enough? When do I need to increase the amount of formula he gets? When do we start giving him cereal? When do we start with baby food?

So when Biscuit caught his first cold at day care, I spent a week worrying about what to do to help him get better. I used blankets under his bassinet mattress to elevate his head while he's sleeping. It's supposed to help him breathe better. I used saline drops in his nose to break up the congestion. I've been using a humidifier at night to add moisture to the air he breathes. I've read chapters in books and entries on Web sites about babies and colds. But still, I wonder, should I take him to the doctor? Is there something else I should be doing?

My mama said that all mamas have those thoughts - first-timers or not. So I'm trying to relax and depend on my instincts. But everyone who knows me can tell you, I'm not really good at relaxing. I usually leave that to Jeff!

But I'll tell you, I have never seen anything more pitiful than my sick little boy ... well, unless you count my now-sick husband!

Biscuit woke up all smiles this morning. I could tell that he's feeling better. So now that my little baby is okay, I'll turn my attention to my big baby! Feel better, Jeffy.