their birthday

I'm grateful for my boys, who turned one and four on the same day. November 20 has become one of the best days of my life two times over, and is appropriately just before Thanksgiving every year :)

chunky chicken

He's hangry.

As I've said before, Theo spends much of his free time getting his chub on. He does this fake whine whenever he sees, smells or senses food in the area, scrunching up his eyes and showing me his gappy front teeth. Then he says ma-ma over and over until I deliver. It's synonymous with food, and it's the only time he says it (so far).

In the past I've written on here about how scrawny he was at first after being born three weeks early and developing two big food sensitivities (plus being a poor breast-feeder). This photo at two months always makes me shudder because of how gaunt he looks. For most of his baby-hood, he wasn't even showing up on the weight chart.

At his nine month check-up I rejoiced as I was told he had made it to the FIFTH percentile for weight. After months of worrying about him getting enough calories - I had been told he wasn't by the doc - I felt victorious. I had been feeding him solids liberally since six months to help him catch up.

Three months later at his 12-month check-up, I would not have predicted Theo would be as chunky as he is now. He has cellulite, a big rear-end and cankles, which I am happy to point out to many, proud mama that I am. There are matching chub rolls over his knees, and his cheeks expand an inch or so from his face. He is now a pudgy 21 pounds, in the 25th percentile for weight and the 50th for height. Yay, Theo!

All adjectives for food that makes my mouth water come to mind. (Is that weird?) My dad used to call Tyler Chunky Tuna, and I just grew my own version.

Ankle Biter

If I have mentioned this before, here it is again. Theo has two passions in life: food and people. He is both a face-stuffer and a little socialite. I predict some potential hedonism in his future.

Toys have held no special fascination for him, and he does not entertain himself well. The two ways in which I accomplish tasks while he is awake is a) do them while holding him on my hip, or b) stick him in the high chair with finger food. I've gotten pretty creative with food he can feed to himself. We started with Cheerios but now we do tofu, grapes, bananas, raisins and anything I happen to be making for dinner that can be divided into bite-sized pieces and picked up by small, chubby paws.

Jono nicknamed him Ankle Biter the other day, because he's always at my ankles tugging on my pant leg. Oh, and I guess he did literally bite me on my leg three times recently when I didn't pick him up fast enough. I'm not kidding. Now when he approaches me as I'm busy with something and Jono is home, I yell, "COME GET HIM, HE'S GOING TO BITE ME." My voice shakes a little, and the child is 20 pounds with dandelion fluff for hair. 

Here he is, the little stinker, at his typical station:

 

Notice in the third shot he's getting a little more serious about getting picked up. Watch out. Oh, the innocence.

orchards and stuff

Every fall we make a trek out to at least two orchards, usually with extended family. Our first stop this year was Robinette's, right outside our city. This is the place we choose to go with just us - it's close and not too elaborate.

We ate pumpkin-spice doughnuts, gawked at the giant apple and went down the wagon slide a few times, like we always do. Although all of this was a first time for Theo!

Normally we'd also squeeze in a hike on the nearby trails, but it was getting late and our boys were wheezy. (The onset of respiratory problems in my children is the only part of fall that I hate.)

We were planning to purchase some cider at Robinette's for a few toasty warm drinks (rum n' cider, anyone?) later on, but with the drought and all the price of cider was ridiculous. Sad. And not just because I won't be drinking rum and cider... more importantly I feel bad for the farmers.

Second stop this year was Fruit Ridge Farms with my side of the family, which we'd done one other time with them. At this one we went the whole nine yards: doughnuts, cider and a hay ride, the duration of which Brett pontificated about his love for the outdoors and the soul-healing, peaceful activities that are often set there. (He whined the whole time.)

We were a little stressed at the beginning of the hayride because Theo seemed fussy, but as long as my dad was letting him jump up and down in his lap, and no one tried to shush him when he yelled for extended periods at the top of his lungs, he was fine. Not sure we can say the same of our fellow riders, but oh well.

You may notice the reappearance of the mini baby scarf, which Theo allows me to put on him, while Jude did not (other than in the hospital directly after his birth, when he was in no position to fight me).

Now the leaves are mostly gone from the trees and we're preparing for winter. I smelled it for the first time two days ago while taking out the garbage, which initially gave me a little thrill. Hoping to milk that feeling into January, but I'm doubtful this will happen.

Happy fall, y'all.