Uh, yeah. The one this blog is titled for. Him. The one I haven’t actually talked about for a while.

He’s great. I dropped my basket on Tuesday morning b/c I’d had no sleep (I stayed up too late talking to Mrs. NOT Tater, then he woke up every hour-two hours doing kick/bicycle legs all night) and Alex woke officially at seven and was in-con-solable. Oh and Scout was out of town. I broke down sobbing, the scary sobbing, the “I didn’t know sounds like that could come from my throat” sobbing. The cat even crawled up on me and let me sob into her fur while I rocked Alex and repeated “I don’t know what you WANT”.

Somewhere in there I threw my cell phone against the wall. I’d tried to call Scout to … I don’t even know what … and the call failed … so I threw the phone … because phones do not merit CPS/DFS visits. It now has some lovely yellow paint permanently embedded in it from where it hit the wall.

After that, I picked up my basket and put my shit back in it – all together again. I put Alex on his back on the bed next to me (because he was finally chill enough to hang out OUT of my arms) and I curled up next to him with my eyes closed. He was still just as active, but now that I had given up any hope of a REM cycle – ever again – I was okay with his activity. I opened my eyes and he was on his tummy. Strange. That’s not how I left him. I rolled him on his back and closed my eyes again. Yet again when I opened them, he was on his tummy.

So. He wasn’t really trying to kill me with lack of sleep, he was just too busy trying to accomplish a major milestone to want to sleep.

Week 14 has brought a baby who can play tummy time in front of DVRd Sesame Street for almost an entire episode – allowing me to get some basic cleaning of the kitchen and feeding of the self accomplished. Guilt free even because, Hello! Tummy time!

He sits in his big boy chair at the table and makes chewing faces while watching Scout and I eat our solids.

He can hold things, spoons (Scout hadn’t licked off the chocolate – Alex got the chocolate ALL over himself. Good boy. Mom’s boy.), CD cases, sharpened pencils (Scout again, he retrieved the pencil quickly), mom’s face, dad’s hands, and yes, yes, he’s found his package – grabbing on for a little self massage of his own during baby massage class today.

He’s trying like mad to get up on his knees and hands. That fun precrawling stage that is a warning that we’d better get finished unpacking SOON.

He stands all the time while holding our fingers. People are starting to comment on this – on how ready to get going he is. Again, we’d better get finished unpacking SOON. (Blogging at 130 am after an evening cuppa coffee is clearly helping this cause not at all.)

He looks at me and seems wise. Like he’s calling me on my shit and loves me anyway.