A Shot for Brendan (and a few for Mommy -- the kind that burn the back of your throat going down)

Brendan had his 9-month check-up on Monday. Grandma Annie came along, which was nice for Mommy because I was pretty sure he was going to be getting at least one shot. Brendan was displaying some clear signals that he was aware of where he was and the sort of impending doom that follows when one visits the doctor. When I put him on the table to get him undressed he started whimpering and looking at me with pleading eyes, "Why Mom? Why are you doing this to me? I promise I'll be good. I'll eat all my green vegetables without making faces or gagging until I puke." And my heart just broke for the little guy. I did my best to keep my game face on and smiled at him and told him everything would be fine. But let's face it, when you're at the doctor's office everything ain't gonna be fine and he knew it.

Despite my absolute certainty that he weighs at least 130 pounds, Brendan came in at a delicate 21lb 1.5oz (50th percentile). He's 29.75" tall (80th percentile) and has a head circumference somewhere in the 90-95th percentile. A string bean with a watermelon on top. I made sure to announce to the doctor that he got this last trait from his large-headed father. He did indeed need a shot, but only one. Which did nothing to diminish the amount of pissed-offness that followed.

As Brendan approaches the big O-N-E, Kenny and I are more than ready to start looking for a bigger place to buy. One that might actually be able to contain the absurd amount of stuff that comes with a baby. And a husband who gets serious separation anxiety when I casually mention that it might be time to think about throwing away that pile of magazines from oh, 1980! I'd like to say that the new place will be spotless and everything will be organized in labeled, color-coded bins and we'll host weekly parties to show everyone how on top of it we are. But let's face it, we're not those people and our house will never be clean again. At least not until I have a place of my own.

Brendan has decided to skip crawling (he says it's for babies) and move straight to walking. Mommy and Daddy either need longer arms or Sir needs to grow about a foot. When he gets it into his head that it's time to practice, there's no room for negotiation. And it's some back-breaking stuff—walking all hunched over him so he can hold onto our fingers. I tried to get him to use the walker thing but he just got all pissed off and pitched a fit. Maybe because he kept rolling it over his little sausage foot. (He has a tendency to walk with his left foot facing due west.) I'll post a video of it when I can find a few minutes.

Since I neglected to blog about Easter, which we spent with Grandma Annie, Grandpa Charlie and Great Grandma Mimi, I'll post some adorable pictures of our very own little Easter Bunny below. Oh, and some other pictures too. Because they're cute. And I like to show off my exceptionally photogenic child.

Nine more days until Florida!!! Woooo hooo!!! We are soooo excited to see everyone and for Brendan to meet his Grandpa Billy, Grandma Sharon, Aunt Nicole, Uncle Matthew, Great Grandma Jackie and everyone else down there he hasn't gotten to meet yet. Mommy has made packing lists and is doing everything in her power to be as prepared as possible. Not not mention hoping beyond hope that Brendan doesn't freak out on the plane. I remember being that young girl without kids who rolled her eyes and declared the parents of the screaming kid unfit! And then thinking to myself, "When I have kids they're TOTALLY going to be the best, well-mannered, amazing kids EVER!" ::Blushes and looks down at the floor:: Yeah, what the hell did I know about anything? Is it bad parenting to administer a sleeping aid to a child before takeoff? JUST KIDDING PEOPLE. I wouldn't do that. Not really. Unless it was totally necessary.


















Brendan is 9 months, 3 weeks and 3 days old today!

Because Blogger hates me and won't let me post a message with the slideshow without giving me some html code error nonsense, I will post the message here. Ahem...

And for your viewing pleasure, here's a slideshow I created of pictures over the past 18 months, from the first pregnancy test to the present. Maybe I'm extra hormonal, but I had to choke back some tears watching this thing.

Memories...

Okay, let's discuss the fact that Brendan will be a year old in less than three months. This makes me indescribably sad. How on Earth is this possible?! He has now been outside the confines of my lovely uterus for 15 days longer than the time he spent inside snuggled up all itty bitty.

Gone is my little baby boy who fit in the crook of my arm and whose primary job was to sleep, save for the occasional bottle and diaper change (not to mention the bouts of diarrhea and vomit—which usually ended up on me, to varying degrees). In his place is a loud, opinionated, chatty little fellow who I'm pretty sure grows about 1/2 an inch a day (and still manages the occasional diaper blowout and vomit episodes). The transformation babies go through within their first year of life is truly amazing.

To keep track of the memories that my ever-worsening Mommy brain will rudely evict, I'm going to list some of the things that I'll miss when he stops being our little baby.

• The way he plays with my hair while I give him his bedtime bottle and rock him to sleep.
  
• The way Daddy's backrub technique puts him right back to sleep when he wakes up in the middle of the night.
  
• When he cries if I come home from work and don't IMMEDIATELY pick him up to say hello.
  
• The way his face explodes in a smile when we do our "stern parent" voice.
  
• The times when he wakes up way too early so I sit him up next to me while I lie down, and then feel his meaty little fist caressing my face.
  
• The way he practically lunges out of my arms to hang out with Daddy when it's time to play with the computer mouse before bed.
  
• The face he makes when we put finger foods in his mouth. (How dare you?! Oh wait, I think I kind of like this...)
  

That's all I can remember at the moment. I'll be sure and add more as they come to me. Below are pictures of Brendan with his friend Caden, my friend Fran's son. They were actually both in the midst of a diaper change but Mr. Fidgets had other ideas.



The attack of the meaty fist!



Brendan is 9 months, 1 week and 2 days old today!