The Important Stuff

Jeff and I had to go to a funeral Saturday afternoon for a co-worker's father, and it got me thinking.

First of all, after years of hassling my brother about getting a will done, I realize that now more than ever, Jeff and I need to make a will, too. I want to make sure that Biscuit is taken care of, moneywise and by making sure that he would have a place to go if something happened to Jeff and me.

But the thing that really got me about the funeral is when the man's sons talked about him. They said things like, "My dad was the greatest man I've ever known" and "I've never known a better person."

Hearing those comments really hit home for me. They made me want to try to be a better person for Biscuit. I know there are plenty of things Jeff and I will screw up while we're raising this little boy, but I hope one day that he can be proud of us like I'm sure we'll be proud of him.

Gotta go!

When my boy's gotta go, he's gotta go!!!

In the kiddie pool at the campground, they had these yellow bumps that squirted water out of each side. Griffin must've spent half an hour just putting his hands in the water and watching as it splashed all over his face and body.

When Grandmama Stacks tried to sit him on top of one of the fountains, I was just at the right angle to get this shot.

Hey, what's the point of having kids if you can't embarrass them once in a while?!?

He ain't skeered!

Saying that I'm afraid of water doesn't quite do justice to the fear that I have. It's only been a few years since I started putting my head under the water in the shower instead of wetting a washcloth to clean my face.

I'm not sure where my fear came from. I didn't almost drown or lose my family in a tragic boating accident. I was never tortured by anyone plunging my head under water. So where did the fear come from? I don't know.

I've wondered if it's DNA. That it might be genetic. That I was born with a fear of water and drowning. Which of course led me to consider that if that's the case, the fear could be passed on to Biscuit.

I missed out on so much because I couldn't swim ... pool parties, skinny-dipping, cannonballs off the diving board, rope swings that send you flying into a pond. But it wasn't just that I didn't know how to swim. It was that I really couldn't swim. I couldn't get any deeper in the water than my shoulders without starting to hyperventilate.

So imagine how happy I was when Biscuit thoroughly enjoyed himself in the kiddie pool on a recent camping trip we took.

The kiddie pool was zero entry, so I held his hands and led him into the water. I figured he'd stop once his feet got wet. But nope, he kept going. He kept walking until the water was up to his chest. And the best part? He wasn't the least bit scared.

I leaned him over so he could put him arms under the water, too. And I swear, if I had let the kid go, he would've glided through that water like a tadpole! He was making all the right motions.

It took everything I had to stay calm, but I didn't want him to sense any kind of anxious feelings from me.

Bending over to help him walk doesn't feel great on your back after a while, so I thought I would lead him out of the water to take a break. He planted his feet and wouldn't move another inch. He was not ready to get out.

I'm so excited that he didn't inherit the water fear. I'm hoping to get him swimming lessons soon. But until then, I'm satisfied knowing that he ain't skeered!

Where did September go?

I have no idea where September went. We went camping with my family the second weekend, and after that, I can't recall much of anything that happened.

I checked in and realized that I had only written one blog for the whole month. I asked Jeff, "How could that have happened?"

Then he reminded me. I usually write blogs on Friday, Saturday and Sunday, but high school and college football start in September, so Jeff has to work on the copydesk every Friday night to help with the high school stuff, then he has to go to and write stories about a college football game every Saturday, which, including travel, takes pretty much the whole day. So by the time Sunday rolls around, I'm ready for us to spend some time together (and I'm ready for someone else to run around chasing Biscuit, too!).

So I guess I need to find a new blog writing time ... at least until football season is over.

Oh wait ... then comes college basketball.

One for each hand

Biscuit has figured out that he has two hands. And most of the time these days, he wants to have something in each of those hands.

His new favorite two-handed toys? Socks. That boy can amuse himself for an hour straight with a sock in each hand.

He can sit still and wave them around his head. He can crawl with one in each hand, although it does get pretty dicey once he gets to the hardwood floors in the dining room. As he's crawling, his hands slide too far out in front of him, and he ends up lying on his belly. Then he gets frustrated and starts fussing.

Once he's done with the socks, he'll sometimes grab a block in each hand and try to crawl. It sounds like a pirate with a peg leg walking through the house.

When my niece Alyssa was little, she always wanted something in each of her hands, too, but it was usually something to eat. Jeff used to love to see her walking around holding her little hands in the air, dropping cookie crumbs as she waddled.

As a matter of fact, any time I make cookies, I always have to give Jeff two at a time so he can raise them over his head and copy Alyssa's waddle.

So I guess Biscuit gets his two-handed playtime honest from his Daddy.

Out of the mouth of my babe

There's a lot going on with Biscuit's mouth these days.

He's got two pretty little teeth on the bottom in the middle. And he's getting ready to get the two middle ones on the top.

(The picture at right was when the bottom teeth were about halfway through.)

The first tooth gave Biscuit fits. He had a fever, tenderness, diarrhea (which I didn't even know could happen with teething), diaper rash, grumpiness and obviously, mouth pain. We quickly learned that Infant Tylenol and Baby Orajel are our friends.

Because of this, when the second tooth popped in, it really did seem like that's how it happened. It just popped right in ... no pain, no drama.

We're still waiting to see what happens with the top teeth. So far, he's just become the ultimate slobber master. It's worse than having a little puppy around the house. We walk around constantly stepping in little puddles of drool, and we sit down on furniture with wet spots on the edges. Any time we hold him, we either have drool down the fronts of our shirts or on our shoulders. And if we're sitting with our legs propped up, he'll use our legs as chew toys. It isn't so bad right now with only two teeth, but I predict a few bite marks in the coming weeks.

The other thing that's been coming from Biscuit's mouth lately is all sorts of noises. He's mastered the da-da-da, ma-ma-ma, ba-ba-ba noises. I'm not sure how long it will be before he makes those noises and realizes that he's referring to Jeff, me or his bottle.

Biscuit also makes all sorts of random noises. He has a motorboat noise (play video below). It's really funny when he makes that noise as he crawls. It sounds like he has a little motor that's making him go. He also makes a lot of razzing noise (also, see video below). And he makes just plain ol' hollering, whining, laughing, humming, mumbling types of noises (you guessed it, see video below).

I can't imagine what it's going to be like to hear actual words coming from that little mouth. Of course, I'm sure in a few years, when the attitude kicks in, I'll be wishing for the days when all he could say was da-da-da, ma-ma-ma and ba-ba-ba.

Stylin' New Kicks

Biscuit is now the proud owner of a brand-spankin' new pair of Carter's tennis shoes (Jeff calls them sneakers, but we're still debating which term our Biscuit baby will use!).

One of the questions I had for the doctor at Biscuit's checkup was what kind of shoes he needs. He's not walking yet, but we are doing the practice runs with him by holding his hands and leading him around the house.

Biscuit and I are going to S.C. for Grandmama Stacks' birthday this weekend, and I knew my nieces and nephew would want to help him practice, too. So I figured we should go ahead and get something to protect his little feet.

The doctor said that some people would disagree with him, but that for right now, all he needs is some soft, comfy shoes that will protect his feet from any sticks or rocks he might step on. These little Carter's shoes are just the ticket.

I was surprised to learn, though, that just as the rules have changed about most everything baby-related, the shoe guidelines are different now, too. You used to have to get those white leather boots with the hard soles. Now, they say that the babies should go barefoot as much as possible so their feet can feel the floor. They say it helps adjust their balance and stride.

Of course, our parents put us to sleep on our bellies with a bottle propped up on a folded blanket without washing off our teeth, after we rode in the front seat of the car with no car seat or seatbelt swigging whiskey and smoking Camel unfiltereds. Okay, maybe we didn't do the last two things, but I'm just saying that it's amazing how much the rules have changed.

But like everything else baby-related, I think you just have call your mama, use some common sense and just do the best you can. And Biscuit will do the best he can in some stylin' new kicks!

9-Month Doctor Visit

I can't believe that Biscuit is 9 months old already. I took him for his checkup last week.

He fell asleep on the way from day care to the doctor, so when we got to the office, I put him in his stroller and wheeled him inside. The receptionist and nurses ooh-ed and ahh-ed over him. And I said, "Yeah, he's cute when he's asleep." I've used that line before, and it's gotten good laughs. But apparently, the people at the doctor's office just aren't my audience.

We really like the pediatrician practice we choose. There are about 8 doctors, so on the few occasions we've had to get an appointment quickly (one ear infection, one shot reaction and one case of the croop), they've always worked us in with no problem and no complaints. We also like all the doctors we've seen so far, especially the primary care guy we chose for him.

Biscuit weighed in at 18 pounds and 8 ounces, and he's 27 1/2 inches long.

Then the questions started. Babies have their first checkup appointment usually a day or two after you get home from the hospital. Then at 1 month, 2 months, 3 months, 6 months, 9 months and 1 year. So seeing as this was our sixth checkup appointment, you'd think I'd know the routine.

I did start getting him undressed as soon as we went back. You have to have them in a dry diaper for the weigh-in. But I always seem to forget about the questions. And they're the kinds of questions that always make you feel put on the spot. You know, like when someone asks your address or phone number when you didn't realize they were going to ask for your address or phone number.

They ask things like:

1. How many hours does your baby sleep during the day?
2. How many hours does he sleep at night?
3. How often do you feed the baby?
4. What do you feed the baby?
5. How active is the baby?
6. How is the baby's temperament?
7. How many diapers does your baby go through a day (specify how many wet and how many messy)?
8. How well does your baby control his or her head?
9. Does your baby imitate your facial expressions and sounds?
10. Does your baby put objects into his or her mouth?
11. Does your baby attempt to roll over?
12. Can your baby sit with support?
13. Does your baby pull up into a standing position?
14. Does your baby use individual fingers to pick up small objects?

And here are the answers:

1. 2 or 3 hours in short naps
2. Anywhere between 10 and 12 hours
3. Three times a day plus a couple of snacks
4. Three 8-ounce bottles of formula and about 6 or 7 jars of baby food a day
5. He can crawl and sit up on his own, and he's starting to pull up on anything that will hold his weight. He jumps and jumps and jumps in his exer-saucer and loves to bang the daylights out of his toys.
6. He's a lot like his dad ... slow to anger and pretty laid back. He usually only cries when he's hungry, tired or doesn't feel well.
7. 8-10 wet ones and lately, 3-4 poos (His excrement works in increments.)
8. Very well. Especially if you call his name or he hears a Biscuitville commercial on TV. He also responds to the word "no" so well that Jeff and I have to be careful not to use it too strongly in our conversations or upon hearing that word, he'll drop whatever he has in his hands and look at us for further instruction.
9. He's starting to. He says "ba-ba-ba," "da-da-da" and "ma-ma-ma." Jeff told him that if he knew what was best, he'd go with the "ma-ma-ma" sound and say "mama" first.
10. Everything he can get his little hands on except finger foods. I offer him Cheerios, small chunks of ripe fruit and those little baby puffs, but he has no interest in any of that yet. Because of his teething, he leaves little puddles of slobber and drool everywhere.
11. His roll is more of a flip. And he deploys this move most often while you're attempting diaper changes.
12. Yes. Although, sometimes he sits on a toy, which causes him to lose his balance and fall over. He doesn't like it when that happens.
13. As of this week, yes. Although, he's quickly figuring out which things will hold his weight and which ones won't as he tries to pull up on assorted objects around the house.
14. Not yet. He still uses The Claw to pick things up.

So even though I can sit right here and clearly answer every one of these questions, when the nurse or doctor ask them, I'm like a deer in the headlights.

It didn't help, either, that Jeff couldn't go to this appointment. He had a work commitment. But I sure could have used his help, with more than just answering the questions.

I had some forms to fill out about Biscuit's physical and mental development, and trying to write with my left hand while holding Biscuit in the crook of my right arm, plus trying to keep his eager little hands from grabbing the pen, plus trying to hold the clipboard in place with my elbow ...

I'm just saying, I could've used the help.

Anyway, I had written a list of questions for the doctor and put it in my pocket with my cell phone. But at some point when I answered my phone, I dropped my list. Of course I didn't realize it was gone until I was at the doctor's office. So in between filling out the forms and fending off my nosey little Biscuit, I called Jeff to see if he could help me remember all the questions.

The only paper I had was the forms I was filling out, and I knew I couldn't write on those. So I started making my list on the paper they use to cover the exam tables. When the doctor came in, he asked, "What questions do you have for me?"

I said, "Well, I had to use a corner of this fine tablecloth you have here. Sorry if I messed it up." He laughed and said, "That's part of the appointment, so it belongs to you. You can tear it off and take it home with you if you'd like."

We chatted about Biscuit's development, and he said he was impressed with Biscuit's curiosity and development. I could have told him that we have the best and smartest baby alive, so he wasn't telling me anything I didn't already know! Our doctor has three girls, so he said he'd be glad to take Biscuit off our hands anytime we wanted to hand him over.

But by far, the best part of the appointment was when I realized that I had lied to Biscuit ... but in a good way.

The director at day care said the health nurse had a question about Biscuit's immunization record. She said he was due for his third DPT shot. I thought he had had it already, but I figured I just had it mixed up with one of the other shots he's had.

Come to find out, the way his immunization record printed, it looked like he was due for another shot, but he was all caught up. So I had told him he was getting a shot and then he didn't have to.

I was glad about that, and I'm sure if Biscuit had understood any of our discussion about it, he'd have been glad, too.

So we have a healthy, happy, curious 9-month-old who is caught up on his shots and has some fans at the doctor's office (the doctor included). I hope Biscuit continues to be fascinated and amused by the whole process instead of being afraid to go. Here's hoping!

Power Cords and Cabinet Doors and Trash Cans, Oh My!

As I mentioned last week, our Biscuit is on the move now. And he's getting faster and more skilled every day. Trying to get him to hold still for a diaper change would work a lot better if they made itty bitty straightjackets!

So Jeff and I have been spending a lot of time lately walking around behind this little crawling man. Every so often, he turns around to make sure we're still back there. Then he turns back and heads on his way.

We went ahead and bought a gate for the bottom of the stairs knowing that it wouldn't be long until Biscuit found the steps. I did a lot of research on safety features and installation. Our staircase goes up in the middle of the room, so there aren't walls to connect a gate to.

So I Googled it. What did we ever do before Google?

Anyway, I found several reports of screw-mounted gates that wiggled loose with the movement of the banisters. They also left big, ugly holes in the posts at the bottom of the stairs. One dad (think Tim the Toolman Taylor) suggested that you drill holes all the way through the posts and thread larger-than-needed bolts through with big, clunky nuts on the outside. I'm no interior decorator, but I'm thinking that would not be the most attractive of living room accessories.

I found one woman who had her husband use Zipties to attach their gates. There was also a couple who said they were on the verge of building a permanent fence at the bottom of their steps that they would just step over every time they wanted to go up or down the stairs.

Apparently, my Google search included the words "crazy people" and "lack of common sense."

I changed my search a little and found all I ever needed to know about pressure-mounted gates. They're perfect for when you don't have walls near the stairs, and there's no permanent damage to the banisters. But most importantly, they get the job done. They block the stairs so Mr. Biscuit won't take a tumble.

I found pressure-mounted gates ranging from $20 plastic ones that you step over to $200 fancy scrolled wrought iron ones with a door that opens in the middle. No screws, nails, bolts or Zipties needed.

My first instinct was to go as cheap as I could and still be safe. But the more I looked and the more I thought about it, I decided, if I'm going to have to look at this thing every day for at least a few years, I want it to look nice. Also, I'm not the tallest of people, so I just imagined myself trying to step over a gate while holding Biscuit. Or even worse, I pictured me catching my foot on the top of the step-over gate and tumbling while holding Biscuit down the stairs right into the back of the front door.

That's when I decided that we'd spend more than $20 but still WAY less than $200.

We got this nice wood and metal gate with a self-closing door in the middle that blends in with the decor of the living room. It actually looks kinda nice, as nice as baby protection devices can look, anyway.

So, I've gone to all this trouble and research thinking that I'm doing what's best for my son, only to realize after he started crawling that at least for right now, he has no idea that the stairs even exist. He gets carried up and down them but has shown no interest whatsoever in trying to get up or down them himself.

What does he notice, you ask? Well, all the things I haven't baby-proofed yet, of course.

Power cords and cabinet doors and trash cans, oh my! I guess it's back to the Google search for me.

The rundown

(A post from The Daddy Man)

I took Biscuit into our bedroom to change his diaper. He was wound up, and that's always an adventure.

He squirms and kicks while you're trying to remove the old diaper, sometimes causing more than a little bit of mess. Then he squirms and kicks some more while you try to wrap the new diaper around him. He's also gotten really fast at rolling over. It's more of a flip now than a roll.

We got through the diaper change, and as I was putting back all the tools of the trade, Biscuit flipped over and was gone. He took off crawling for the other side of the bed. He's fearless and will crawl off the bed and fall if he's not stopped.

I got to the other side of the bed to catch him. But when he saw me coming, he turned around and went back the other way. We played this game a couple of times before Kim came in and covered one side while I covered the other.

It was just like a baseball rundown with too many throws.

He's on the move

I know I shouldn't admit this, but at the end of last weekend, I said to Jeff, "I think I liked the boy better when he couldn't move by himself."

We spent the entire weekend saying, "No, Biscuit," "Don't touch that, Biscuit," "Get away from there, Biscuit," "Come back in here, Biscuit."

Yep. He's on the move.

Crawling to safety

The bathroom floor is almost dry now. Earlier today, there were two distinct paths of dampness.

When one of us isn't home and the other one needs to take a shower, Jeff and I take Biscuit in the bathroom with us and let him play. We're lucky that our master bathroom is pretty big, so we spread an afghan out on the floor, throw down some toys, and Biscuit just hangs out.

Until today.

He's been getting more and more mobile, especially over the past week, but I didn't realize how much until today.

Our shower has glass walls, so I could see him playing. But I swear, I think he watched until I needed to close my eyes before he made his move. I rinsed the conditioner out of my hair, and when I opened my eyes, he was gone.

I opened the shower door and leaned out. He had scooted and rolled from our bathroom into our bedroom. I grabbed him up, dripping water everywhere, brought him back into the bathroom and closed the door. He didn't like that at all. He rolled back over to the door and hollered at it. Then he rolled onto his back and started banging his feet against the door.

I got back into the shower and got the water adjusted. Then just as I closed my eyes to soap up my face, I realized it had gotten awfullly quiet. I quickly rinsed my face and opened my eyes. I have a knit robe that hangs on the back of the door. It has a long belt that was hanging down just far enough for Biscuit to get his hands on it.

He had one end of the belt in his mouth and was in the process of rolling over. Guess where the belt was. Yep. Wrapped right around his little neck.

I moved a little quicker getting out of the shower this time. I left another trail of damp carpet behind me. By the time I got to him, he had unwrapped himself and was just grinning at me. I did a quick look around to see if there was anything else he could get into. I didn't see anything, so I finished my shower.

I was reading an article online the other day that talked about babyproofing your house. I thought they were going a little overboard when they suggested that the parents should get down on all fours and crawl around the house looking for things the babies could get into.

After my shower experience today, I'm thinking Jeff and I will be doing some crawling around our house next weekend.

Still fireworks friendly

Jeff, Biscuit and I went to a Greensboro Grasshoppers game last night with some friends. We had six tickets, but unfortunately, two of our group couldn't make it.

We missed having them there, but with two empty seats, it worked out well because we had room for Biscuit's stuff without being crowded in our seats. We wheeled him from the car to the game in his umbrella stroller and had his diaper bag. It probably doesn't sound like those two things would take up a lot of room, but you'd be surprised.

Some of the seats on the row in front of us were open, so Jeff spent most of the game sitting there, which gave us even more space and left an empty seat, so Biscuit had his very own spot.

Biscuit was a little rowdier during this game than he was at the last one we went to. He's had some teething pain, and he's a little more mobile now, so he didn't like being confined to our laps. Jeff took him on a couple of walks just to give him something new to look at, but overall he was still really good.

I knew there would be fireworks after the game, and I was a little concerned about how Biscuit would react. My worries were for nothing because the game went to 12 innings and by then, Biscuit was fast asleep. Enough people had left at that point that I set his stroller up in the aisle beside my seat and fastened him in so he'd be more comfortable.

Right before the fireworks started, I grabbed him out of his stroller and held his head against my chest and put my hand pretty tight against his ear. He slept through the entire fireworks display. It was a really nice display, too. The show included some I had never seen before.

There were two pretty girls in the row in front of us. They turned around to see how he had handled the fireworks. They thought it was pretty funny that he slept through the commotion.

I told them that the funny part was that their long, pretty, brown hair almost became the victim of Biscuit's little hands several times during the game.

The seat saga

(A post from The Daddy Man.)

One morning last week, I took Biscuit to day care. Kim normally does the morning run. I might do it once a week. Everything went fine, and I went off to work as normal.

I told her I'd pick him up in the afternoon, too, but my work ran long, and I had to let her know that I couldn't make it.

I was about 3/4 of the way through writing my story about UNCG's basketball schedule, when the phone at my desk rang. It was Kim. She was at day care and needed the car seat to bring Biscuit home.

I told her I'd bring it right away and hung up. But the instant I hung up the phone, I remembered: When I dropped Biscuit off that morning, I carried the car seat inside. I remembered this because he was fast asleep inside it when I dropped him off.

When we drop off or pick up at day care, we have to clock in or clock out. So while she was waiting on me to bring the car seat, Kim had already clocked Biscuit out and had stepped out to one of the rocking chairs on the front porch to finish feeding him a bottle he had started.

I called her three times on her cell phone, but with the traffic noise from the busy road the day care is on, she never heard the ringing.

Finally, I called the day care and talked to the director, Miss Cindy. I asked her if Kim was there, and she said she was sitting outside.

Cindy stepped out to let Kim know what had happened. She said she wondered why Kim was sitting out there instead of going home, but that she had always liked those chairs, too, so she didn't think too much about it.

After Biscuit woke up from his nap that morning, the morning teacher had taken him out of the seat and put it in their closet, but the afternoon teacher didn't realize that. So Kim had to go back in to get it. Biscuit is too heavy now for her to carry him in the seat, so she put his empty bottles and other stuff in the car seat and carried it in one hand and Biscuit in the other.

So after four phone calls and about 15 minutes, we got everything sorted out. I finished my story, and Biscuit and Kim headed home.

We've already decided that when he moves into a bigger car seat, we're going to head off this problem from the get go ... we're buying two of them.

I'm stuck on you

Biscuit and I have a little game we play. He lies flat on his back, and I say, "Lie down." Then I hold out my fingers, he grabs on and pulls into a sitting position, and I say, "Sit up." Then while still holding onto my fingers, he gets into a standing position, and I say, "Stand up." Then I hug him and pat him on the back, saying, "Good job. Good job." And he laughs like it's the greatest thing ever, and we do it again.

So yesterday, I thought it would be fun to say the phrases and see what he could do on his own. I was so excited and surprised when I put him on the bed and said, "Sit up." And he rolled around a little bit and sat up on his own. I knew he couldn't stand on his own, so I helped him out.

I called Jeff into the bedroom to watch Biscuit's new trick. I put him on the bed and said, "Sit up." Nothing happened. I said it again ... "Sit up." And nothing.

I just figured it was stage fright or that he was too distracted by Jeff being there. So I tried one more time. Biscuit tried to move and suddenly Jeff started laughing.

The bib Biscuit was wearing had come unfastened in the back. It had a Velcro closure, and the sticky side was now stuck to the comforter on our bed. So Biscuit was stuck to the bed, too.

Biscuit has hated the sound of Velcro being ripped apart since the day he arrived. Maybe he knew that Velcro would one day be his downfall.

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."