Two annoying facts

Fact #1: Even though the Olympics are taking place in Vancouver, in the Pacific time zone, NBC is still showing them on TV on the West Coast on a tape delay. This means that even though the ice skating takes place at a perfectly reasonable hour, if you are not lucky enough to be sitting in the arena in Vancouver, it's still not starting for you until after 10 pm, even if you're a mere 130 miles away in Seattle.

Fact #2: It is a VERY BAD idea to stay up until midnight watching ice skating on tape delay when you have a baby that you know will be waking up between 12:30 and 1:30 (aka, ten minutes after you go to bed), because this means that you are guaranteed to be up until 1:30 or even later. Since the baby will be up again at 4:00 to feed, and wakes up for the day at about 7:00 am, this means you are screwed.

I do appreciate that covering the Olympics is probably a logistical nightmare, but it pissed me off four years ago when I simply had to go to work the next morning, and it REALLY pisses me off now, when I have to be awake enough to keep a baby alive and not screaming, that they deliberately show ice skating so late that you have to stay up past midnight. It's not a live sports event overrun, it's planned that way. It pisses me off. And yes, I will be voting with my remote, because man, I feel like crap.

The feel of cotton

Today is my sweetie and my second wedding anniversary. It's certainly been a busy two years!

I have to admit, I was a little worried what having a baby would do to our relationship, but I was wrong. Having our cutie has only brought us closer together. We both love having him in our lives so much, and sharing the pleasure with each other is wonderful.

Of course, I am sure once our cutie is a little bigger and we need to start making more serious decisions, we will have more disagreements, but for now, we are basking in the glow.

I want to take this occasion to say: I love being married to this man. There isn't a single moment that I wish I were still single. Sometimes he drives me crazy, sometimes I wish I could have a little time to myself, but I wouldn't go back to my old single life even if I had the choice. I'm really surprised by this. In my twenties, I did not want to get married. I did not want to have to compromise or accommodate anyone else. I wanted to be gloriously selfish and not let anyone make any claims on me.

But the funny thing is, even though I do compromise and accommodate my sweetie, even though he makes claims on me every day, I don't feel like I spend any energy on it. It's nearly effortless. Or maybe natural is a better word--so natural I don't notice it. On more than one occasion, I have thought that I don't do enough, that I let my sweetie take care of me too much, until he turns to me and says, "You're so good to me. You do so much."

I think marriage is sort of a balance between two impulses: the urge to give up and let the other person take care of you, and the urge to be the best person you can be so that he never thinks any less of you than he did the day you were married. So far I think we are striking a pretty good balance.

Happy anniversary, sweetie. I am sorry you are too sick to go out, but I'll make soup and grilled cheese sandwiches :-).

Linen stitch

I am currently obsessed with linen stitch.

What I love about linen stitch is that it makes handpainted yarn sing. Alas, this photo does not do justice to the lovely contrast of colors linen stitch creates. I have sort of a love/hate relationship with handpainted yarn. I frequently fall in love with a yarn in the skein, but once I knit it up, I am bitterly disappointed. Either the yarn pools, creating uneven blotches of color throughout, or, even worse, it doesn't pool, resulting in little scattered strips of colors, which all run together into a muddy mess. It's like visual static. It's like an impressionist painting, and I do not mean that as a compliment.

Linen stitch, though, creates stitch-by-stitch contrast between colors, and looks particularly good in a skein with highly diverse colors, like this one, which is hot pink, olive green, and chocolate brown. For some reason, this does not result in visual static, but rather imposes a certain order on the chaos, allowing the colors to shine. I discovered this in a sock I was knitting while pregnant (have not yet knitted the second sock), am currently knitting a sweater of my own design using linen stitch, and now, of course, am knitting Bobbie, a pair of gloves entirely in linen stitch.

That makes three WIPs in linen stitch. But the gloves will certainly be done (deadline: the dousing of the Olympic torch), and I am dying to get back to that sweater: it's the first one I am designing myself, and I am loving how it's looking so far, thanks to the power of linen stitch.

Knitting Olympics

I am knitting like a fiend right now. So much so that I have not had time to take pictures and post. And anyway, how interested are you really in my knitting? :-)

This is a quick post to keep myself somewhat honest: I am going to be participating in the Yarn Harlot's Knitting Olympics. I don't know why: I'm not really a joiner, and I have a four-month-old baby who cuts into my knitting time. Not to mention that I am halfway through a sweater that I really want to finish, but will likely put on hold for the Knitting Olympics.

I guess I just like the Harlot, I like the winter Olympics (way more than the summer Olympics, which I can honestly take or leave), and I do need a new pair of gloves.

Oh yeah, I'm knitting gloves. Bobbie, to be precise. According to the rules, this project needs to be a challenge to complete in the 17 days of the Olympics. I figure this qualifies: I have never knit gloves before (the fingers intimidate me); these gloves are knit in sock yarn (small needles, lots of stitches), entirely in linen stitch (which I love but which will make them extra fiddly) and have attached i-cord trim. I've never done attached i-cord before.

Also, see above re: baby.

To make this project extra fun, I do not yet have the yarn for it, and the opening ceremonies are tomorrow night. Happily, Madrona is going on right now, in Tacoma, a mere 45 minutes away (according to Google Maps). I have never been to any sort of fiber or knitting event before, so even though I am not taking any of the classes, I will pack up the baby tomorrow, before the ceremonies, visit the marketplace, and buy myself yarn for gloves. Hopefully I will be able to restrain myself from buying yarn for any other purpose, real or imagined, but I have my doubts.

How did they know?

Thursday was my 40th birthday. It was kind of an odd birthday, considering it was a big one: I went out for lunch with my oldest friend (as in, we've known each other since we were 4), but did not do anything big and fancy.

This was partly because my sweetie was out of town this week, on business in Tampa. It just so happens that his brother, sister-in-law, and nephews live in Tampa, and his parents have a winter condo there (to be nearer the grandkids, of course), so while he was there on business, he got to see his family, too. It worked out nicely, except that my sweetie felt bad to be missing my big birthday.

My in-laws sent me a very nice little flower arrangement, but as they were taking my sweetie to the airport on Friday, he happened to mention that it was my 40th birthday. My in-laws were appalled. They had not realized it was a BIG birthday. They felt a simple flower arrangement was not enough. They insisted on stopping and buying me another gift for my sweetie to take home with him.

Here it is:
That, my friends, is a waxed paper bag filled with a 1/2 pound of deep fried bacon.

My in-laws may win me over yet :-).

Say cheese, Part II

For Christmas, my sweetie bought me a gift certificate to Cook's World, a place here in Seattle that has cooking classes. I was really excited to receive this (although a couple people at my sweetie's office were offended on my behalf, even after he explained that I like to cook), especially once I saw that they offer a cheesemaking class.

Last Saturday was the first of two classes, where we learned how to make soft cheeses. I promptly came home and tried out the recipe for cream cheese.

Here is the cheese after I've cultured the cream and let it sit for a day. I've just put it in the cheesecloth, where it's supposed to drain for 12-14 hours.

Next, you hang it in the refrigerator for 36-48 hours:


Here is the finished cheese, spread on an English muffin:


It is pretty darned tasty cheese, though I suspect the second batch that I have hanging in the fridge will be even better, as I let the cream culture longer.

Tomorrow is the second class, where we will learn how to make hard cheeses. I'm most excited for this part, although I fear it will have less practical application, since hard cheeses require rather larger investments in ingredients, equipment, and time.

Yes, I am mildly obsessed with cheese.

Where do I go from here?

I applied for a job today. No, I don't really want to go back to work just yet. Our cutie isn't even four months old, and my plan was six months to a year at home. But....I started freaking out about money. Not that my sweetie doesn't make a perfectly respectable salary, one that probably millions of people in this country could live on with no trouble whatsoever, but I am embarrassed to admit that, after years of living as carefree single people in New York City, we no longer know how to live on a budget. It doesn't help that my new unemployment coincidentally coincided with large medical bills (hey, did you know it costs $25,000 to have a baby these days? Good thing we have health insurance. Too bad it didn't cover 100%, but I can't really complain; it was pretty darned good), a trip to New York, and Christmas. So I looked at our hemmorhaging bank account and freaked out. I am very conservative when it comes to money; I like a healthy cushion, and our cushion is shrinking much too fast.

I am wildly conflicted about the whole thing. When I first moved to Seattle, I immediately found a job, even though my sweetie encouraged me to take my time and decide what I wanted to do. But I found I was very uncomfortable sitting at home, not earning my keep, as it were. I am happy to say I am not feeling that same discomfort now: I do understand the value of staying at home and taking care of our cutie. There are times when it is really, really boring (I love my son, but I can only coo at him or squeak the squeaky toy for so long before the fun pales), but overall I just love spending the day with him and watching him change in small ways almost every day.

I don't want a job. Or, more accurately, what I want is income without having to put my son in day care. Because, you know, day care costs a lot of money, which sort of takes a big bite out of the whole purpose of having a job. Not to mention some stranger will be holding (or worse, not holding) my cutie when he cries. I don't give him my undivided attention every waking minute, but I do give him a lot of undivided attention, and I just can't believe he'd get that in a day care.

I believe I've mentioned that I hate job hunting more than anything else. Nevertheless, I've started hunting. I am going to try do it in a very casual manner, applying only for jobs that I think look really interesting. I am not going to get too invested and I am not going to torture myself. That way when I can't get an interview to save my life, I will be able to smile and say it means I get another day or week or month at home with my cutie.

Happy new year

Happy new year! 2009 was certainly another interesting year for us, and our cutie promises to keep us on our toes in 2010 as well. Here he is doing his new favorite thing, grabbing his feet:

Looking at this picture, I am reminded of something a friend once said to me, when his daughter was tiny: that having a baby, and watching him/her grow and discover the world, is full of little moments and achievements which are utterly riveting to you, and totally boring to everyone else. So: he grabs his feet, now. Isn't that cute????

Here is our cutie during "tummy time," which he generally hates. It makes sense, since tummy time is suppose to be good for him. Even babies don't like doing what's good for them! Anyway, this week he discovered how to get out of tummy time: roll over. Not only will you then be on your back, but your parents will be so thrilled and proud they won't put you back on your tummy for several hours.

Today

Our cutie laughed. Seriously, he laughed. Haha--haha. Like that. My sweetie had said he'd heard him laugh the other day, but he wasn't sure if it really was a laugh, but today we both heard it, several times in a row. While his was grinning from ear to ear. He used to squeal in this mood; today he laughed. It was pretty exciting!

The line between fiction and reality

As I've mentioned, I've been reading a fair bit lately, more than I have in a long time. This is because there are several periods a day when I have to sit in a chair and feed the baby, and the only thing to do during these times is read (well, or nod off, if it's a 2:00 am feeding!). At the moment, I am on a sci-fi kick: I am alternately rereading Lois McMaster Bujold's Vorkosigan series and reading Orson Scott Card's Ender series for the first time. I think the latter is more serious in its themes, but the former is a damned good read.

Anyway, as a result, I am spending more time with books, particularly fiction, than I have in a long time, and since I am not working, the only person I talk to regularly is my sweetie. This has resulted in the characters I read about being rather more real to me than they might otherwise be. To the point where I start to think about their lives outside of what's written in the books.

For example:
Do you think Anne Blythe (nee Shirley) breastfed her six kids? I think she must have, but do you think she had trouble with it? Did Gilbert, as a doctor, have advice for her, or did he stay out of the way?

Or:

I wonder if Miles Vorkosigan, in addition to his well documented medical problems, also had cradle cap?

Yeah: I need to get out more, in more ways than one....

Holiday baking

Every year I bake cookies for presents for our neighbors. This year, as my overly social husband continues to make friends, that means 14 houses. In the year I have a baby and can't bake like a factory. SIGH.

Normally I bake four kinds of cookies. I did actually bake four kinds this year, too, but two of them were disasters. OK, one was a disaster (ironically, the only one I'd made before) and one was just so utterly boring I didn't think it was gift-worthy. So, it's just two kinds this year :-).

On the left are Maida Heatter's Gingerful Biscotti, from her Brand-New Book of Great Cookies ((c) 1995--so, out of print and no longer brand-new), later reprinted in Maida Heatter's Cookies ((c) 1997 and also now out of print). These are delicious, the big winners this year, easy to make and definitely worth making again. That's saying a lot, because I have thousands of cookie recipes in my house (so not exaggerating there), and not many get made more than once, since I'm always looking for something new.

On the right are what ended up being my version of a Sno Ball, a snack I occasionally crave even though I fully acknowledge they are plastic and gross. My version is a bittersweet brownie base (I took the recipe from Alice Medrich's Cookies and Brownies, but any reasonably dark, sturdy (not cakey) brownie will do), baked a bit thinner than called for in the recipe, topped with the toasted coconut marshmallows from this month's Cooking Light. These are pretty tasty, though I didn't sample them extensively since I barely have enough to cover the 14 houses. Making marshmallows from scratch, something I've wanted to try for several years now, is reasonably easy but has a lot of steps; I don't know that I'll do it again. Maybe as a treat for my son when he's old enough to love hot cocoa.

Speaking of cooking light, these aren't bad: only the brownies have any butter in them. The marshmallows have coconut, and the biscotti have eggs and almonds, but overall these are way down on the fat scale for me. I laid in two pounds of butter for this cookie bake off and barely made a dent in the first pound.

Sleep

We are in the midst of a sleep experiment.

This is our cutie a week ago, after he had his first shots. Three shots, in the thighs, and he slept for 7 hours in the afternoon, like a log. He continued to sleep through the night, much more than usual the next day, and then everything started to fall apart.

Thursday night, he slept poorly, Friday night and Saturday nights not at all, but slept like log Saturday during the day. Very frustrating. By Sunday morning we were at our wits' end, and decided it was time to try Crying It Out.

Much controversy surrounds crying it out, and the younger you do it, the more controversy is involved. But none of us was sleeping (though our cutie slept Saturday day, he did not sleep Sunday during the day: one day of sleep out of five days and nights does not a healthy sleep habit make), so we had to take some action.

All the sleep books direct you to put the baby to bed drowsy, but awake. We had not been doing this: we would rock the baby to sleep, then put him in the crib. So the first step was to stop doing this.

After putting the baby down drowsy but awake, sleep books diverge, based on their philosophy towards Crying It Out. Some books tell you that letting your baby cry it out will teach him that he can't trust you, that there's no point in crying if he's hungry or hurt, because no one will answer. They tell you that he'll be needy and anxious his whole life because he won't be sure of his parents' love.

Other books tell you that babies need to learn to soothe themselves, and that will involve some crying. If they don't learn how to do it, they will be lousy sleepers their whole lives. My sweetie's cousin, at 25, is still a lousy sleeper, and she blames her mother for always rocking her to sleep. Her two younger siblings were allowed to cry, and they can sleep through a tornado.

(As a side note--do you detect a theme? Anything you do will affect your child for the rest of his life. No pressure.)

Anyway, we chose to let him cry, going in after a certain amount of time to reassure him that we were still there, and he was not alone. The first night, after some struggle (boy, is it hard to listen to him cry!), he fell asleep and slept--no joke--for eight hours. Last night he did it again. And, since good night sleep promotes daytime naps and vice versa (yes, sleep begets sleep--don't ask me why), he has been starting to take longer naps during the day.

Well. I hate to think he thinks I can't be trusted and that I don't love him, but I sure am glad that he (and we) are getting real sleep at last. Fingers crossed that the trend continues!

Home in one piece

We took our cutie on his first cross-country plane ride for Thanksgiving. My sweetie's family lives on Long Island, NY, so we took a trip to visit and introduce the cutie to his great-grandmother, great-aunts and -uncles, regular aunt and uncle, first cousins once removed, and second cousins. And, of course, the grandparents, whom he's met before.

It was not a bad trip. Our cutie was very good on the plane ride east (a red-eye); for the most part, he slept. It was harder on us, because you can't sleep while holding a baby: you might drop him. And our arms got very tired. I thought that at home he never lets me put him down, but apparently I do get a break every now and then, because even sharing the duty with my sweetie on the six-hour flight, my arms were tired. Or maybe it was the combination of holding him and being jammed into a cramped window seat on a very HOT plane.

During the visit (12 days long!), the cutie charmed everyone with constant cooing and smiling. Everyone agreed that he was the smartest, most advanced baby ever. While my rational mind takes this with a grain of salt, my mama mind is very proud. We also discovered, via a trip to a pediatrician (it turned out to be a blocked tear duct--nothing serious), that our cutie now weighs 12 lbs.

This is noteworthy because that visit to the Long Island doctor occurred on November 23, a mere 21 days after his one month appointment with his Seattle doctor. This means that in 21 days, he gained 1 lb, 10 oz. I'm kind of terrified to hear what he weighs at his two month appointment this week!

Despite the trip to the doctor, our cutie made it through with flying colors. I had been so nervous about exposing him to germs on the plane and among the relatives that I got an H1N1 vaccine before I left. I do not usually get a flu shot, but he's too young for the vaccine, so my getting it became my sort of talisman against him catching anything. Apparently, it worked: we've been home five days and he's still healthy. I think any sickness he shows now would be home grown.

Mornings

The cutie has turned me into a morning person.

He has a fairly predictable nighttime schedule (though now that I've said that, he will probably deviate from it tonight): He goes to sleep some time between 10 and 11 pm; wakes up for a feeding around 2-3 am, for a second feeding 5-6 am, and then up for the day 8-9 am.

I used to go back to bed after the 5-6 am feed, to get a couple more precious hours of sleep, but lately I've been finding myself getting up, so that I can take a shower, eat breakfast, surf the web, and have (whispered) conversations with my sweetie that do not focus on the baby and his bodily functions. It's ridiculously luxurious.

I'm not the only one who enjoys my sweetie's company: I am slowly developing the theory that our cutie likes his dad more than me. Yesterday, and last Monday, he cried all afternoon, which at this point is somewhat unusual for him. Then my sweetie came home, and the moment he walked in the door, the baby stopped crying. It's enough to give a mom a complex. SIGH.

Anyway, here are some pics of our cutie, looking ever cuter:

"Let go o' ny liff! Let go o' ny liff!"

The requisite "naked baby" picture--he'd have been fully naked, but he started peeing when I was taking the picture :-)

Definitely smiling! (Note shirt with wishful-thinking printing.)

And finally, a shot of our cutie wearing a one-piece I knit for him, out of Debbie Bliss Cashmerino Aran. I'm pretty proud of it, since I made up the pattern myself. The closures on the front and at the crotch are closed with sewn-on snap tape (a first for me, since I think knitting and sewing do not mix well; I did cheat and sew it on by hand: no running the knitting through the sewing machine for me!). And I actually managed to finish it before he was too big for it; quite a feat when you have a baby and cannot knit one-handed.

Of course, I've heard many stories of kids who refuse to wear hand knits. The cool stuff is bought in a store. So I thought I would get in a few hand knits while he is still too young to protest.

Obviously I was wrong about the protesting bit :-).

Quick post while the baby's napping

Believe it or not, he's napping. In his bassinet. He's been doing this for about four days. Each nap lasts about 1/2 an hour, and I treasure every minute of free arms.

Anyway, I've been reading a lot, usually while feeding him, but I've been rereading children's books from my youth. I guess I haven't had a lot of mental energy, and rereading children's books requires very little effort. Plus, you know, I only get to read in ten-minute increments, which is not at all my preferred method of reading, so it's good when I already know what's going to happen. I've reread a number of Anne of Green Gables books (though not ANNE OF GREEN GABLES, which is actually my least favorite of the series), I've reread A LITTLE PRINCESS and THE SECRET GARDEN (finally figured out why I always liked the latter less than the former: it's because I really don't like and don't care about Colin, and his story hijacks the book).

However, this week I read a new book, HOLES, by Louis Sachar, which will probably become a classic children's book itself. I will certainly buy a copy for my son when he's old enough. I really, really liked it. And, I have to say, it made me appreciate anew that children's books are tough to write. I know every celebrity is doing it, but you know what? HOLES is as interesting, well-written, and complex, both stylistically and character-wise, as many adult books. It surprised me. I'm still thinking about it.

Whoops, there he goes; my 1/2 hour is up!

Halloween

Our cutie's first Halloween was a success:

OK, he didn't care, but we enjoyed ourselves :-).

Today he had his one-month appointment with the doctor. He is now 10 lbs, 6 oz. He also shocked all of us (including the doctor) by rolling over during the appointment. The doctor had him lying on his stomach on the examining table, she was commenting on how strong he is (he can lift his head and hold it up for quite a while), when all of a sudden, he just rolled himself right over onto his back. He may not do it again for a month or two, but we were pretty darned impressed, and convinced we have the smartest, strongest baby ever born :-).

Now if only he would sleep.

One month old

It's a disgusting mess we come through to be born, the sticky-wet of blood and afterbirth, mother wailing, child crying...the helpless soft spot at the top of its head pulsing, waiting to be kissed. Our parents and teachers say it's a miracle, but it's not. It's going to happen no matter what, there's no choice in the matter. To my mind, a miracle is something that could go one way or another. The fact that something happens, when by all rights it shouldn't, is what makes us take notice, it's what saints are made of, it takes the breath away. How a mother comes to love her child, her caring for this thing that's made her heavy, lopsided and slow, this thing that made her wish she were dead...that's the miracle.
--From The Birth House, by Ami McKay

I haven't finished reading The Birth House, and at the rate I'm going, I probably never will (I started it while I was still pregnant, and I'm on page 25), but this passage struck me really hard while I was waiting...and waiting...and waiting for him to come. It's resonated even more as our cutie hits one month old, and has spent the last week crying all night. Either my sweetie or I has threatened to throw him out the window at least once, if not multiple times, every night for the last week, usually at 2 or 3 in the morning, after he's been crying for hours and refusing to be put down. Yet morning comes and he's still with us, and we still think he's awfully cute and lovable. We're idiots, but that's probably hard-wired, hunh? It's got to be, or I think the human race would have died out long ago. So I guess it's not a miracle: we're slaves to our genetic compulsion to Not Kill the Baby.

By all reports (from friends who are already parents and laugh at our difficulties) it's going to be months yet before this stops. Last night we actually broke down and brought him into our bed with us, but this only worked for a short while; once he woke up, he couldn't be soothed even in bed. I ended up having to sleep with him in the recliner. Forget the bassinet--even if he's put down asleep, within half an hour (usually within ten minutes), he's awake and crying. I can take this during the day, but at night it's really, really trying. We were spoiled by three and a half weeks of relatively good sleep--he'd go down for a couple three- or four-hour blocks per night--so being up all night now is especially difficult in comparison.

I confess I have occasionally thought that the only thing stopping me from giving him up for adoption is that the grandparents already know about him, so it would be difficult to explain.

He's a charmer

So, I know our cutie is not supposed to be able to smile just yet, but doesn't he look like he is?

Here he is on our daily walk. A nice walk is one of the more reliable ways to keep him from crying. Today it rained a lot, but we took the opportunity of a break in the rain to walk to the local cafe (what Seattlites we are!). He seems to like looking at the passing scenery.

Finally, the other night as I was feeding him at 3:00 am, I realized something.

My son has hair like Linus van Pelt's.

The scale

I know I am not supposed to be obsessing about it, and I really am not, but yesterday, just out of curiosity, I got on the scale. To my complete astonishment, I have lost at least 35 pounds by having a nearly 10-pound baby. I say "at least" 35 pounds, because I don't actually know what my final pre-birth weight was, since I decided in the last weeks that it was best to live in ignorance.

I'm pretty happy about this, though I want to know why I still can't fit into any of my normal pants. That includes the size 12's I bought way back at the beginning before I gave in and got maternity pants. Heck, even some of the maternity pants I bought early on and eventually had to give up as I got huger are still uncomfortable. My only explanation is that, while I am only about 15 pounds above my pre-pregnancy weight, my body shape has changed considerably. That is: all 15 pounds are in my belly. SIGH. I've got to start going to Pilates again. I never thought I'd say it (because who knew I'd ever have them to miss), but I miss my abs!

Our cutie continues to be cute, which is a good thing because I'm about ready to defenestrate him (hey, I wanted to use the word :-). I thought I was prepared for the sleep deprivation, but I didn't fully appreciate the mental exhaustion involved in listening to constant crying and being unable to stop it. I am newly impressed with stay-at-home moms; I don't know that I will be able to do it. I know working moms are typically called supermoms, but they're total pansies, if this is what they're leaving at home with the nanny.

We did go for a nice walk today, in the lovely autumnal sunshine. He seemed to like that, at least :-).

Maternal myopia

Here's a picture of our cutie in one of his matching outfits:

OK, I admit it's totally a cheat since it's a one piece, but hey, he's a Houdini when it comes to getting out of socks, so I love the footed one-pieces :-).

This pic does show his current greatest trick: being awake without crying. This is new in the last three days, and we love it. He is also not wearing mitts because I finally got up the courage to cut his fingernails, which were like little needles. No, I did not nick any of his fingers, so I was very proud of myself.

I haven't taken a huge number of pictures of our cutie, because the pictures I've taken have kind of disappointed me. They do not show how cute he is :-). I realized yesterday, though, that part of the problem is that they do not show him the way I see him: that is, at a distance of about 8-10 inches (and through a maternal hormonal fog, but that's another story). When I'm feeding him, or he's lying on my chest or my lap, that's when I think he is about as cute as it is possible to be, and you really can't take that picture. The camera can't get that close and still show his whole face or body. I will have to start experimenting to see what I can do about this. In the meantime, here's a first attempt, a shot of him sleeping on my lap (he does not like to nap in a crib):

Sigh. He's just too cute!