The Eight Month Old.

Eight Month Old Reflections...

Lately there has been a cheeky addition to our family's dynamic. Well, I say "lately" when really what I mean is eight months ago, it was just waiting to come out and be known.

It comes in the form of my eight month old son, Roman. Those of you who know me - who seem to make up the readership of this blog - will know Roman either through pictures or in the flesh (chubby goodness mmm). 

And very recently this boy has chunked up (I'm merely stating this in a playfully cute manner and by no means wish to cause him future body issues) and got mobile.

And oh man has he been giving us the run around. He won't even sit still for feeds. I'm so convinced of Ants in Pants syndrome that I think he must boogie in his sleep.

I remember (ever so faintly) that little 10 pound, one and a half ounce newborn who wouldn't take to his rather simple and baby friendly musical toys but would boogie and bop his head side to side to the music of our parent's generation. Queen, Big Country et al. I remember that looooooonnng trip to Thurso for the first time with a four month old who got fed up quickly of sitting in his seat - although I don't blame him, it was a very, very, very long trip indeed. And if we go back even further to say, a year ago, I remember that little boy who we thought was a girl (sorry dude!) bouncing around inside me, like it was a non-stop party.

It's just so strange to go from the little parcel of sleepiness into this busy little boy who loves to get around on the floor, pick up everything dangerous in sight and hang out of his play nest and his baby seat because he wants to know what's under there, or over there and ooh that looks good to eat/touch/feel/pinch/grab/put in mouth.

I know that things will only get busier. 

Eight months on I can say it's true. I've loved him more and more every day, but every day it feels like it couldn't possibly grow any more. And that I'm perfectly (and blissfully) happy in this state of parenthood. 

And lately he's turned into such a little personality...

Living The Dream.

So, with all intents to buy a high chair (yep, we are that disorganised) I finally got round to doing it this week...

His little feet don't quite fit the foot rest just yet as you can well see from the photographic evidence above, but I wouldn't expect that from a seven month old (whose two days away from turning eight months!) unless they were a giant.

So what were we looking for in our high chair? Sturdy, wipe proof, safe, looks cute (hey, who wants a hunk of metal that looks like an eye sore?) and one we're able to feed him from. 

I had done my research all over the Internet because I am like that. I can't stand being conned into buying things purely through clever marketing and selling techniques. Plus I don't want to buy something on a whim and it falls apart.

In comes this high chair from Baby Start (Baby Start you can thank me later, perhaps with other baby supplies?). Unfortunately this particular high chair doesn't appear available for purchase anywhere, I got it from a warehouse that deals with clearance items - nothing wrong with them, they're just reduced stock that Argos can't sell off, so they sell on eBay. I got the "Brum Brum" model so I could live up to the sexist in me that dictates cars for boys and ballerinas for girls (Future Roman: I'm not really like that, I promise).

It's proved great so far and I've had a few good reports on this high chair already and I love making wise purchases. I used to spend about half an hour picking what sweet I wanted from the shop when I was a kid - I like to be meticulous, even when I know what I want. 

I was honestly filled with excitement when we set this chair up. I'd been eagerly awaiting the delivery of this high chair a little too much methinks...

It's just so nice to come a little step closer to being normal like everyone else. How sad I feel the need to conform.

However, this wasn't an issue about conformity. This was a chiropractic issue. We used to feed him when he was strapped into his bouncy chair and let me tell you if that had long continued I might have a future career of bell ringing and falling in-love with a Romany woman called Esmerelda.

Pee Pee in the Potty!

Today we had a strange success with the potty. We had pee in it. 

Being on a meat-free and dairy-free diet can bring it's interesting points when people ask us about it. "So what do you eat?" we hear non-stop. Uh, food. Then people look at me "So you're a vegan? Really?" Okay, yes, I'm on the pleasantly plump (but I'm not so pleasant about it!) side of life right now after having had a baby seven months ago and not losing all that weight I gained but Vegans come in all shapes and sizes. Fat, thin, average, tall and short. They're just like "normal" people. They don't go out at night to hunt their tofu.

 Now, enter in One Roman Quinn into this equation and the questions get a little more "interesting." Things like; "Is Roman going to be a Vegan, too?" Well...yeah I kinda figured why not? I'm not a nutrition numpty. I know what I'm doing with this kid. It's all okay. But to be honest, why do people ask these questions? I know it's ignorance - the kind where people think it's okay to ask what the hell they like type of ignorance. I don't ask them if they're going to raise their kid eating meat and dairy (heaven forbid I do lest I wanted my head served to me on a silver platter). 

So I figured if I'm going to upset a few people living my life - but let's face it, we're never going to make every one happy and would probably kill ourselves trying - why not go on and potty train Roman? To be honest my first thought wasn't to tee anyone off - far from it. I want to do this for him. It wasn't that long ago that women were hanging their 3 month olds over the commode in an attempt to "toilet train" them and the government issued leaflets on this. It was a lot more strict than my flexible and relaxed approach with the potty and I'm not too caught up on creating bad associations with anything - at least not on a conscious level.

Wishing I had read this book on going nappy free before he was born, I decided it wasn't too late in the game to start at six months. I ordered my potty on-line, going for one that I liked the look of and felt happy with the quality - a Thomas the Tank Engine potty from Mothercare and by that I mean from eBay after I'd seen it in Mothercare - because, after all, this little boy's butt has to be cased in this potty and it can take up to ten minutes/or more for little people to go wee or poo after they're sat on the toilet or potty (interesting fact, I know ;).

I decided for me personally that I would start off this nappy free thing by letting him air out his little baby bum. As a woman who has periods (it won't get any more gross than that, I promise) I know how annoying it can be to constantly wear underwear. So I had a think to myself - his little baby bum is constantly swaddled in nappies.

 Nappies that are sometimes full of human waste. There's no nice way of saying that. Babies are awesome and oh so delicious. But sometimes they produce monsters in their nappies. And although I'm not an amateur dramatist about this (after all "going" is a fact of life) with pegs and a bio-hazardous bin in every room of my house, I don't like the thought of waste being plastered to Roman for any longer than it has to be. He normally is very aware of when he is wet or poopy and let's us know quickly and has since he was born.

Which is great for the purposes of being tuned into him now.

We've tried on a few occasions now to cue him with a "hsss" noise (it sounds like peeing, basically) and he looked at us like we were mad and just laughed at us. Then we had a breakthrough.

One night, during a bath, he looked up at me with a great big smile on his face and made the "hsss" noise and then started to pee. After he'd finished he laughed at me. As if he was saying "Look, Mum!". Haha. Thatta boy. Unfortunately Bryan didn't get to witness this but it was too funny to keep to myself so I shared it via Facebook. I was surprised at the supportive and open minded comments I got in return. I wasn't expecting that...but what else did I expect?

We were going to keep things hush hush because to be honest I didn't want criticisms and negativity impeding my choices and judgements I'd already made - in other words I didn't want un-supportiveness to sway my decisions or put pressure on them to change. A lot of leaflets you can get on the subject of toilet training tell you that between the ages of 18-24 months this is when the child is "ready" to train. 

Today I got him up from a long nap - and his nappy was very, very full - and changed him as usual. His skin is getting a bit red these days from his nappy wearing :(. So I let him roam free for about ten minutes. Then I suddenly had this feeling - from the way he was moving and acting, all silent and a bit fidgety and it's rare he'll pee on me, he usually fidgets an awful lot, moans a bit and if I don't put a nappy on or get him over the toilet or sink then he'll pee on me. I've tuned myself into his cues for needing to go - that I should get the potty out. Now, shamefully, the potty usage has gone to pot (ha! pun intended!) lately because I recently have taken to feeling like crap and so it's gone a bit out the window so the potty was a bit dusty. 

However, I didn't have time to mess around getting it clean and I honestly didn't think he would pee in it - he loves being on the toilet and this is when he laughs the most at us but when we've tried to put him on the potty he will protest rather loudly about it. However, today was different. I thought it was weird he didn't really react. The potty isn't like a Bumbo seat. It's a lot higher up. And the material is a lot harder.

However, he didn't make a fuss. As a precaution I grabbed his toy to keep him amused while we waited for pee. I figured I'd try it out, see where it got us and then be happy with whatever the outcome was. I checked a few seconds in and noticed he hadn't peed at all. All the while, making the cueing noise. He got fussy and I lifted him up...and lo and behold:

THERE.IT.WAS.

(Sorry the photo isn't better quality, I snapped it on my phone camera because I was holding baby. Also, notice the cow toy sticking out).

I was shocked beyond belief. This massive wave of pride went through my whole body.

My little man's first pee outside his nappy.

I scooped him up and bewildered him with lots of praise and kisses - something I promised myself I wouldn't do. After all it's pee. Not an Olympic gold medal or a First Class Honours Degree. It's a "life skill" (as Super Nanny is always saying about potty using), don't draw attention to it. But I couldn't contain myself. 

I was cheering; "YAAAAAAAAAAAAY! Our first pee pee in the potty!" then proceeded to sing the "Pee Pee in the Potty" song from Look Whose Talking 2 (YouTube it, I'm too lazy to link you in). The neighbour was in at the time so if he heard me he must think I'm absolutely mental - or that I worship some freaky Pee God.

I am a bit mental, but it's okay. It makes me the marvellous and interesting individual that I am today. 

I just wonder what Roman's face would look like if he read this blog.

Maybe a little something like this?

"Muuuuuum! How could you?"

And more pictures of the Pee Pee Prince looking quite happy with himself to be out and about after we met his Daddy up town:

"Dis ma hand. It taste YUMEH!"

Yes, I love reading my babies mind and making him say really impossibly cute things.

This weeks highlights so far: Bryan got a job interview! Yay. Roman started taking naps again! Yay. Roman is now up to date with his 6-9 month wardrobe! Yay. 

Still to come: An update on how the job interview went for Bryan. More 365 Pictures to be captured :). My brother and the cutest little family alive (of course mine is included here, too!) are visiting very soon from Washington (not DC). 

Image of nappies from: http://www.eta.co.uk/Cycle-helmets-to-be-made-from-recycled-nappies/node/11791

Roman's Room.

Noun

hoose (plural hooses)

1. (Geordie and Scottish) house

If you walk into our flat (I call it "the house", "my house", "our place" ect but it's really a ground floor flat. I despised the idea of being on the ground floor because people told me horrible things about occupying the ground floor. It's made me never want to live on the first, second, third or heaven forbid FOURTH floor) and turn left and open the first door you'd come face to face with this view of Roman's room. These pictures make everything look smaller than it is - or perhaps my perception is messed up, I don't know. His room is pretty big. It houses his drawers, old crib (that he never slept in, we were given two and this is the one I still haven't returned balanced against the wall), new cot (that he has spent about 3 and a half nights in), single bed and a radiator that's never turned on because the room heats up in about 4 minutes straight.

A few days ago I decided to air Roman's mattress out. He doesn't sleep on it so I wanted to keep it fresh. I turned it on it's side and faced it towards the window. I air his room out everyday because dead skin cells just love to congregate and accumulate in there. Bogging, I know. 

Halloween is a-coming. And man am I excited! Halloween didn't really mean anything to me in the past but it was probably the only festivity I got excited about because the build-up of it was always better than the outcome (unlike Christmas or New Years Eve where everyone gets drunk and starts fighting). This year we'll have a little spider to dress up! My Aunt bought him this cute little outfit and I am so pleased with it - it's adorable.

 My Mum bought this bunting from Blooming Marvellous (I love that site ever since I got pregnant) and it is blooming lovely. I always feel disappointed with the photos I take of it because I never feel it captures what it really looks like. The photo is one I took of Roman months ago and the "photo frame" is actually a mouse mat we got sent from Organix (the baby food company, we love their food!).

I love being organised and prepared for the next day. I always line out his clothes for the next day on the radiator. I'm a tad anal at times. 

One of my obvious favourites. I got the photo frame in Relief Society and I tracked down where it was bought because I had an idea I wanted to do and wanted more frames. However, Snapfish photo paper is officially crap and sticks to the glass.

More stuff my Mum bought us :). Again, another Blooming Marvellous item. Yay! I love these book-ends. If I was a boy and I had a room I'd totally want these to hold my books together. I know that Roman is too young to even notice their presence in his room but I am not too young to adore them a little too much. On the left book-end is a paper weight that says "Baby Boy." I love it. It's the shape of a moses basket and is adorable. To your right is the car Roman had his beady eye on when my brother and his Uncle Fraser bought him when they took a stroll through Tesco. My brother asked him what car he wanted and it was reported Roman kept looking at the red one. This is a true story!

As you can see we also have a "name train" for Roman. As I mentioned before, I had wanted one for ages. I am so grateful that between me, my Mum and my Aunty Jeannette we seem to have mastered the art of ESP. And we seem to understand each others needs - be it concerned with baby issues, family issues, health issues. You name it we have it down to a T between us - or at least that's my take on it. My Mum got this name train for him and I nearly died out of excitement when I saw it.

Bryan's driving instructor bought us this aforementioned "Baby Boy" paperweight. It was wrapped in home made paper (I love crafty home made things!) and came in a lovely box that I may have shamelessly kept. I am a hoarder. I also kept the home made paper. I'm a sentimental chocolate teapot - I melt at anything to do with events in life and can't let go of every keepsake lest I lose a memory. I don't know why I'm designed this way. I don't even cry at weddings or funerals. Seriously. I fake-cried at my brothers wedding because everyone else was doing it. I feel so bad admitting that, but it's true. I didn't want to seem like the Tin (wo)Man, with no heart.

Just some clothes! I love his little star sleep suit! Bryan loves the red one the most. Haha. We're so geeky.

Poor old Rufus has been rejected for a while now. I'm too scared to get a picture of him with Roman because I am afraid he might be too dusty and I haven't got round to washing or airing him out. I'm a slob when it comes to such tasks. Bryan bought me this on our first Christmas as boyfriend & girlfriend together. We didn't last long in that state of our relationship. About three days. Then we were engaged! It felt right. And it feels even better now.

 

I got this rug for £1! (Maybe it looks £1 worth, but to me I was severely chuffed with it). I love it. It seems to match the blue in his book-ends perfectly. I bought it before the book-ends were even a thought. It's funny how things work out.

I wasn't going to post this picture (mainly because I want to keep up a facade that I'm an organisational Nazi and mainly because Bryan will not like it) but I want to portray that even organisational Nazi's have their piles. You know what I'm talking about. It starts off with just a few clothes innocently put down and then more is added. Before you know it...you have this monster creation. I am a 24 year old Mummy of one. Married. Living in a two bedroomed flat. With no real storage for clothes. No drawers, no wardrobes. Our landlord graced us with lovely crappy furniture from Argos that fell to pieces as soon as we sneezed used it. We have plans to move so we haven't bought anything ourselves. Just heaped our clothes on top of the spare bed :). I have no idea where this balancing act will go when people come over - but I'll have fun trying.

 Also, I am seriously hoping you all don't think I'm a major mink for this photo! Not that I would care if you truly did think that; I'd tell you to go to hell anyway ;). Haha.

He snuck in after bath. Look at his yummy chubs. This towel is a newborn size but we used it tonight because the bigger towel was being washed. Don't worry, we have more than two towels for him. It just so happened they were either dirty or being laundered. 

So there we go - my son's wonderful room. We're not perfect by any stretch of the imagination. We're just doing our best with what we've got (which is a lot by my estimation). I think people who spend fortunes on little people are off their heads - there is a lot of junk they just don't need. Although in saying that I'm torn between spoiling him rotten and being sensible. I think our approach to things right now is the best way - a meeting in the middle of the two. There is also a time and a place for spoiling them and every day is a bit much.

And I hope that my 365 Project will be one of the crowing glories in my gift-giving to the little man.

If Elton John's gift is his song then my biggest gift I give to Roman will be this 365 Project. I hope he is a sentimental chocolate teapot like me and relishes this photo Project. 

The things I love about you.

Today, Roman's hair grew about five inches during his nap.

He's really cheeky with this mouse. Today he was sitting on my knee and I looked away for five minutes and  when I look back there he was with the wire in his mouth - he loves everything he can get his hands on. 

The things I love about Roman are his smile and laugh. His smile appears at the most unlikely times. When I feed him at night he is a little tiger before it - growling and pawing at me - and then he will stop halfway through and look up at me with the most ridiculously delicious smile in the World. 

Right before we put him down for his sleep at night he has "Happy Man Time" in which he babbles nonsense at us, giggles and smiles at each of us in turn. It's impossibly sweet. When Bryan has been out to a meeting or out with the missionaries and has missed bedtime he always asks; "Did he have Happy Man Time before bed?" haha. I love this language we all seem to be speaking together. I love our sense of community and love. Being part of a family is like being part of a small country in which you have your own customs and traditions.

I love our Happy Man.

When I was pregnant people kept telling me how much more laundry I would do with a baby in the house and whilst I believed them - having had my nephew live with me and my parents for a few months and then having looked after a newborn three jobs ago - I also thought that I wouldn't let it get on top of me. When he was new we didn't have many cases of spit up or exploding nappies (weird because Bryan is his dad, I promise) so the washing I expected to be swamped under didn't really happen. He's a "clean eater" these days as well not really fulfilling the stereotypical baby pattern. Like I said, Bryan is his dad and this boy has inherited his love of food and huge appetite (I love to eat, too, make no bones about that!) so the food doesn't really miss his mouth a lot. 

But he throws up so much! No sooner had I changed him out of one top than he was into another...then I decided to get him another top just in case he went at it again. Before I could even retrieve it out of his drawer Bryan informed me he'd spewed again. I came through and was greeted with:

Don't worry...he isn't throwing up in this picture. He's singing. He sings quite a lot. It's mostly babble but he does make quite a lovely tune out of his babble :).

He always "looks" for Bryan when Bryan speaks. I'll be sitting feeding him and he'll be engrossed in that so much then Bryan comes into the room and asks me a question and Mini Man looks up and searches for Dada. Today he did that and smiled up at me, then popped back on for a feed. I wonder what goes on inside his head at times like these.

All change. Nice puke-free clothes. I love these little shoes of his. They are 0-3 months but either Roman has small feet or someone at the factory messed up on labelling them because these were huge boats on him at the 0-3 month mark. They fit him now but he does love to direct them into his mouth for a good old chew.

He was in bed when I was folding my washing. I came across his little cardigan my Mum knitted for him and felt like crying - I can't believe this ever fit him. That he was ever this small. And it wasn't all that long ago. I just wonder where all the time is going. One night I put my newborn down for a sleep and the next I'm lifting a  seven month old in the morning.

A Day in the Life of moi.

It's not quite a "Day in the life of" post, because I am far too slothful for that kind of shenanigans...but it is a heavy picture post (just to warn you).

So today was officially a "pyjamas and housework" day. That's the beauty of being your own boss (well...Roman is kind of my boss. He sets the hours, the work and the pay. The pay being lots of cuddles), you can work from home and be in your PJs, too! 

But, alas, the Little Boss didn't want me to have a PJ day and threw up all over me. I had to jump into the shower. Which was fun, considering Roman was way grumpy and I had to poke my head out from the shower curtain every five seconds to prove to him that some monster wasn't attacking me behind the curtain. He decided to throw his blanket onto the wet and dirty floor at some point as well which wasn't too much fun.

In between his shrieks I unloaded the first lot of washing and put another on. I love doing washing. I never resent or feel p'd off doing it. It's my favourite task and about the only thing Bryan and I don't share - because I honestly don't mind doing it. I know other people absolutely hate it and it's the bane of their existence but I'd happily sort through a dirty load of laundry (within reason. I aint touching your skiddies), put it onto wash, unload and hang it to dry and then bring in, fold and put it all away for a job - and at one point I did do this as a job and still didn't loathe it! I'm a glutton for punishment, perhaps.

I am also obsessed with having a clean bathroom floor. Unfortunately for a few weeks now (yep, I said WEEKS) the bathroom floor hasn't been mopped. I say that and by that I mean I haven't done my ritual with it - it has been cleaned, but not to my satisfaction or standard. Haha. Queen of Sheba, much? 

So I set out about doing my ritual :). It consists of:

 One bottle of bleach (kills germs dead, you know!)

One shower head into bucket-full of bleach (I really want to use something eco friendly but I am struggling to find something to fit the bill, anything that anyone can reccomend is welcomed! I'm trying to cut down on chemicals in the home). 

And that's it! Simples. I mopped up the floors; bathroom, hall, kitchen and living room. The mop is getting a little pathetic these days - I know Tesco sell them for next to nothing, but I'd quite like one of those funky squeegee mop things. 

Our floors were gross - seriously gross. When I emptied the bucket of murky floor water back into the bath I was greeted by this:

Yuck! The water even had "bits" in it - which are just grit and dirt that gets dragged in on shoes and buggy wheels.

After mopping I like to "towel dry" the floor:

I learned this from my Mum and from Bryan. Bryan started doing it when we lived in Mill Street (our first flat we had together) and I did scold him the first time I saw him skating around the floor on a towel...then I tried it myself and remembered my Mum told me stories of how her Mum used to give them towels and they'd find this great fun - when in actual fact they were doing housework! I love my Gran, she's so clever.

And as you can see from these pictures...there's still a few other things that need sorting. But they can wait! It's Orange Wednesday which means that it's our "Date Night." My brother comes round and sits in our home while Bryan and I go to see some ridiculous but light hearted blockbuster at our local Cineworld.

It's important to take time out as a couple and remember who "we" (the couple we) are. We're quite secure in ourselves, though, and we do sneak conversations about our son in - even on Date Night. We can't help it. We love him. None of feels like we're talking "shop" and we don't overdo it like some people whose every second word is about their child - don't get me wrong, I have Mummy Friends and all we do is talk babies and our kids - because we love and adore them - and we could talk till we were blue in the face about them and never get bored...but you know the couples I'm talking about.

It's nice to know that the "glue" in our relationship isn't based solely on our son. And it's nice to have little reminders in our home that reflect "us", the couple;