This is where baby plays when The Hater and I eat supper. That is, if we eat supper after she eats supper. We've ben trying to time it so that we eat at the same time, but sometimes that just doesn't work out. And she likes her baby jail -- these are the toys that only live in baby jail, so they're always new, exciting and fun.
Tonight Baby figured out she can stand up and peep over the top of jail and had big time fun doing that. By the time I got to the camera she had moved on to trying to eat the walls of the pack and play.
The dorks come tomorrow to play and play and play. We're excited for their visit.
This little dress has a red and white Santa hat to go with it, but once baby realized it was on her head she wanted to play with it and not leave it on her head. We're also sporting velcro boots, purely for the cinematography. This one is one of the last 6 month outfits that will still button over her trunk. After we wear it to church tomorrow and wash it she will have outgrown yet another fantastic rummy dump find.
Baby clothes sizing cracks me up. We tried on two "9 month" outfits that were too small, and another "12 month" outfit that was too small, too. Tonight she's sleeping in a zipper-bag which label says "0-12 months". It's basically just been sitting in the back of her pajama drawer all this time because she's just now to a size where she can't wriggle out of the neck hole. Shoes are the same story: a "3" is not a "3" is not a "3".
The Hater is out of town on work business. You can see how we spent our afternoon: playing with Santa. He was most impressed with my smile solicitation after baby decided it was time to stonewall the photographer. My newest trick (that hasn't lost its luster yet) is to make a fart noise by blowing into my index and middle knuckles on my left hand. She loves it, and Santa was really impressed with it, too. He said he learns a new trick every year, and he's never seen that one before. He just laughed and said that when I blew my hand he could just feel her vibrating in his lap. I told him it was a great distraction to get through green vegetables. He patted her on the head and said that nothing was a good enough distraction to get through green vegetables, then thanked me again for surprising him.
I hesitate to add this because if I were a superstitious person I might be afraid that this might mess up our current mojo, but here it is: Baby has slept through the night for two consecutive nights! Two nights ago she woke up a couple of times and whined, but by the time we got to the kitchen to mix her a bottle she'd fallen back to sleep. Last night went silently - sans whines, whimpers or flailing cries. I'd forgotten how nice it is to actually get a good night's sleep.
Yesterday during communion one of the kids in church came up to us and asked us if this was the baby who "squealed like a hog". Yes, it was. Although we prefer to think of her as shrieking like a velociraptor.
(And what baby wardrobe is complete without hand-me-down leopard print?)
She's come so far... Baby no longer screams bloody murder when we put her down in the yard. She's actually kicking her feet and waving her arms with complete bliss in the second picture. (And thanks to the magic of photo editing, it looks like our grass is still mostly green!)
This picture best sums up our visit from the Dorks.
We had such a good time crawling all over them in the floor,
and someone was thrilled with her first experience with bubbles.
The Hater got in this morning around 2:30am and the Dorks left for their journey eastward around 3:30am. Baby was up a dozen times during the night last night, and I'm sure she has a sixth sense as to when I finally get the sheets warmed back up and start to drift back to sleep. I bet we'll all be tired today.
So yesterday we thought it might be a good idea to keep the baby up a little bit later in anticipation for the time change this weekend. We played and played and read and played some more, and at a last resort to keep her awake, we started playing choo-choo train with the diaper box. As you can see here, it was all she could do to keep her head up.
And on the next lap she konked out... five minutes before her usual bedtime.
It's been a good weekend. We went to the Greek Festival and ate some fantastic food yesterday, and this afternoon we've had some friends over for a jack-o-lantern carving adventure. (Pictures of the pumpkins will follow, but The Hater thinks this one is one of the better ones we've done, but not the best one...)
Baby turned seven months old yesterday. Ta-da.
Doing laundry now. Baby finally went down for her afternoon nap (after the company left). We're watching football, cooking up a letter to Fisher and Kiffin.
Neither of us are excited about going back to work tomorrow, but somehow the universe just doesn't seem to care.
Good news! My tumor marker was low enough so that we won't have to have a treatment this week, which means I took a small, tracer I-131 dose and do not have to be on isolation. The Hater is excited that he doesn't have to be the one-man show. Baby is excited that she continues to be the center of attention.
We're all excited and relieved that my chest xray was clear and that my tumor marker was low. I have another scan on Friday, but we're not expecting anything exciting at all from that one.
We'll both sleep better tonight... if baby lets us.
We're asking for an assortment of good vibes this week. It's time for me to get another round of diagnostic tests to evaluate where we are with this stubborn cancer. I don't have my notes with me, but I'm thinking I get a shot on Monday and Tuesday, blood draw and tracer dose on Tuesday afternoon, then nuclear scan and chest xray on Wednesday. No idea when I'll hear back with the results. When I know more I'll let you know.
I'm nervous. Not Sword of Damocles nervous, but nervous nonetheless. Mind you, I have no tangible reason to be nervous or to expect that we'll get a crazy result. Really, I don't even think I'm going to need another radiation/isolation treatment this time. I think it'll still be there, but not big enough to justify treating yet. But I'm still nervous; I don't like being reminded of this monkey on my back.
I know this isn't the greatest picture, but this is the absolute best part of my mornings: waking up the baby. I sing 'Oh, What a Beautiful Morning', and before we even get to the cattle standing like statues she's up on her allfours, laughing and grinning, looking for me between the crib rails. I only wish I was this happy to get out of bed.