Arlo is 39 weeks and 2 days old, and there are a million things I want to mention here—which is no surprise since I haven't updated in three weeks.
We have a lot on our plates right now. There's my mother-in-law's stroke, of course. Suffice it to say that she isn't improving, and it's agonizing to see her in a nursing home bed, half-paralyzed and unable to comprehend the gravity of her situation. She still has a contagious infection, so she hasn't seen Arlo in five weeks—and I'm getting scared that he'll forget her.
On top of that, my sister is living a nightmare that nobody should ever, ever have to experience—a situation that deserves its own post, so that'll be coming soon.
Now, let's talk about this guy:
He is busy. If he's awake, he's undoubtedly exploring the house, and he definitely makes it impossible for me to just park my butt on the couch all evening. Why is it that he can have fifty toys scattered around the house, and he inevitably goes after the one accessible non-toy (e.g., my phone charger, Scooter's toy, the remote, a shoe)? And why do I bother spending money on toys? He played with a red Solo Cup for a half-hour the other day.
He's a very independent boy. For example, a couple days ago, I spent two hours organizing and doing some things around the house, and he was perfectly content roaming around the gated-off living room the whole time, just entertaining himself. You are the greatest company, Arlo.
A couple times, he's stood up without support for a nanosecond—but he spends the majority of his days pulling himself up while steadying himself with furniture, our legs, or the window sill. He loves looking out the window and babbling, especially when it's snowing.
|The first time I caught him doing this.|
|Sometimes, Scooter joins in the fun, except he doesn't babble.|
|The hundredth time I caught him doing this.|
Arlo's back on schedule with regards to sleep. He makes it through the night again—and has been known to give us twelve solid hours. On a related note, a few times, he's fallen asleep in random spots, which is off-the-charts adorable.
|These puffs are borrrring.|
He's also started clapping, and I'm not sure if he's doing it to express joy, or if he just likes doing it, but I can't get enough of it.
He's just getting over a nasty cold that peaked in severity on Christmas Eve/Christmas morning. Of course. He was too miserable to enjoy his presents, so that was a major bummer. He was sick. Every ten minutes, he sneezed and shot snot out both nostrils. His eyes were watery, and he just looked pitiful. Danny and I only made him unwrap one of his presents, and we unwrapped the rest. Hello, anticlimactic 1st Christmas.
|Books are for eating.|
|Poor sickie's only smile of the morning.|
He acted less miserable (but just as snot ridden) in the evening, and he played a little.
|Stacking cups FTW!|
Another note about Christmas: Arlo somehow choked on a piece of tape—I mean legitimately choked (i.e., stopped making noise and started changing color)—and Danny had to perform the Heimlich Maneuver on him. I don't remember the last time my heart pounded so hard. I'm getting a knot in my stomach just thinking about it. Horrifying. I'm so glad Danny knew exactly what he was doing. Go brush up on baby first aid. Go, go, go.
Four days before Christmas, we made the long, long trek to Michigan to celebrate with my siblings and their kids. It was Scooter's first big road trip, and they were both such good boys.
|Timing is everything.|
Fortunately, Arlo wasn't sick yet for our mini-Christmas, so he did get to experience opening presents.
|Sad this shitty, grainy picture is the only one we got.|
He had no interest. Because duh, there were bows to chew on.
We rang in 2014 at home last night, and it was a more successful celebration than Christmas. Arlo was happy.
|Making him sit still in a chair has become a joke.|
|Here's another one because I couldn't pick.|
Despite everything, we all were. We all are. You know, overall.