It's the busiest time of the year...

Believe it or not, I haven't disappeared from earth. I have been working on top secret projects though, so I haven't been posting about most of what I've been up to. The truth is, we've been getting ready for Christmas around here, and that involves a lot more than it used to. For example, I was trying to figure out a convenient window for Christmas shopping, and one just never opened up. So finally I roped David into tagging along with me and helping out with Elliott while we crossed off each person on our list. That was a long, napless day.

This week I am wrapping up the few gifts I am making- and since I'm pretty sure he is to busy gnawing on his toys and splashing in Jack's water to catch up on his blog reading, I can safely show you one of my finished projects.

This is Elliott's new buddy. Okay, yes, it's a doll. But don't get all up in arms yet. It is a boy doll that he can play with (or chew on) and learn to dress and take care of if he wants. If he doesn't, it only cost me a little time and scrap materials. The thing is, we have been incredibly fortunate to have friends with little boys who are growing out of toys and clothes just in time for Elliott to inherit them, and most of these things have come to us in pristine condition. Some even still have the tags on them. So I have had to buy very few things for our little man, and I don't know what he could possibly need at Christmas. But we don't have a doll. We certainly don't have a hand-made one, with blue eyes and crazy brown hair that took hours to attach to his head, which is sewed on a little crooked. And I figure that as he gets older, he'll figure out that he can get loads of toys at Christmas, but I really like the idea that for a short while, this holiday can be relatively simple and true to what it is supposed to be about: Spending time with the people you love, and showing them little ways that you care.

That, and awesome footie pajamas. (The other little boy is a friend's son who I babysat last week. His jammies have MONSTERS.)

Now I just have to figure out how to manage to get our little family down to Arkansas. I have no idea what I need to pack or how to cram it into our car with the car seat, dog, and presents. Eesh.

When life gives you puzzle pieces- make Pacifiers!

Let me just start by saying that when I had Elliott I decided we would try not to give him a pacifier, just to avoid weaning him from one later on down the road.

Then when I tried to take him on errands and he started to cry, I reevaluated my stance in favor of peace and quiet and offered him one. Elliott then proceeded to gag on the paci and threw it in the floor. He has NEVER taken one, unless it was somehow attached to another child. If it is another kid's paci, look out. He takes it out of their mouth and sucks on it like it is coated in chocolate. So to keep him from being a paci thief, I again offered him one of his own and he gnawed on it for five seconds and threw it out of the crib. So he isn't a paci baby, and I am FINE with that. But lately I have caught him doing this:

I guess it is his way of showing me that if he can't steal one, he'll make his own.

eight months

Dear Elliott,

Geez, little guy- I looked up and it is December already, and somehow you are eight months old. Between teetering from panic (Aaaagh- if he's eight months old he should be huge, 'cause that's pretty old. He's not eating enough and underweight I'mnotagoodmom-aaaah!) to um, well, other forms of panic (How are you already standing up in your crib and eating everything in sight is that paper in your mouth gimmethat gimmeTHAT!) I've managed to let go a little bit this last month.

A tooth sprouted in the bottom of your mouth on November 2nd, and then another came along the day after my birthday. You were kindof whiny and punkish right before they popped through, but not bad compared to horror stories I've heard from other moms. Well, until a week ago, when you up and decided to become a BITER. I tried firm talks, which went over as well as I imagine a trigonometry lesson would at this age. So I went on strike for a couple of days and only gave you bottles (which don't scream when you bite them), and then I googled ways to get you to stop and I'm sincerely hoping that we've fixed that problem. Because after a couple more times of that, I am going to hand you a pork chop and call it a day.

I also decided to go to Chicago for a weekend with some of my friends, which was really hard considering the longest I have been without you has been about four hours. So I left a schedule with your Daddy and took off, and being the emotional blob that I am totally cried when I left- right after I sniffed all of your blankets and stuffed animals. I probably annoyed the living daylights out of your father, calling and texting every hour and just waiting for the world to fall apart. Apparently you didn't even notice I left though, and you and Daddy had a weekend with no major catastrophes or incidents. My weekend in Chicago was a different story- although it was fun, it involved getting caught in the middle of Michigan avenue in some ENORMOUS crazy parade, an unfortunate purchase of the most uncomfortable, adorable shoes, and a seriously weird cab ride. Oh, and finding appropriate times and locations to pump- 'cause there aren't any.

We hosted your first Thanksgiving here, and you (finally) got to try food with seasonings and meat and marshmallows! You also discovered that making a disgusted face and gagging makes people laugh, and so you did that every time I gave you a bite to eat. You seemed a little bewildered by all the people in our house, but shrugged it off afterward and decided the crowd was worth it if it meant sweet potato casserole.

The next day we broke out the Christmas decorations, and while you have yet to figure out that I have plopped a tree in the middle of the living room, you have discovered the toy nativity scene I bought a while back and have discovered the true meaning of the holiday. Tasty, tasty baby Jesus.

Love,

Momma

Thankful...

I am thankful for these guys...

for our families, our friends. This has been such an amazing year. I hope yours has been as well. Happy Thanksgiving. Now I've got to go check on my turkey(s) before one burns or the other breaks something.

Swingin'

David got home from a looonng trip last Friday night, and he was a little exhausted. So naturally I stuck Elliott in a bulky backpack and handed that and Jack's leash to him and dragged our family to the park. :)

I wanted to try to get some pictures of Elliott playing outside (before the snow comes and we stop leaving the house for six months), so I put him in some play clothes and told myself that if he eats dirt and leaves that it wouldn't hurt him. Once I gave into this inevitability...

he didn't eat anything! Not even this leaf, even though the look on his face says "this looks tasty..." to me. We played on the swings, and played around with our camera, and celebrated the fact that David was back.

Elliott is okay with the swings, but he doesn't seem to get super excited about them like some kids do. If I lift him high in the air once or twice, he's okay, but if I do it more than that he pinches up his face and will eventually look terrified. He likes the ground just fine, thankyouverymuch, so please put him safely back on it.

Stocking!

I've been meaning to post pictures of the ridiculous amount of projects I've started, but I've been to busy starting more projects. I went to a swanky baby store last summer, and noticed some really adorable knit pants that had a monster on the seat of them. I almost bought them, until I noticed the price tag of $90. For one pair. of BABY PANTS. So instead, I went to the yarn store and set out to make a pretty good substitute. I didn't try my hand at the monster face, because I am not that patient, but maybe I'll give it another shot later.

Aaand, as you can see, they are huge. He crawled right out of them a few times yesterday. But, the bonus is that they will last for more than twenty minutes. Which is more than I can say for some of the other knitting projects I've made. He wore the blue sweater I made him once and it was practically a crop top. Yikes.

This is also huge, luckily I was going for that. Two years ago I knit stockings for David and myself, and we went with stocking hats instead of large socks. It may have come out a little bigger than ours did (I haven't dragged out our decorations yet), but as I'd imagine we will be stuffing a lot more in his stocking so that's okay.

Now I just need to finish the baby sweater, hat, blanket, doll, and presents I have planned.

Thanks Grandma!

Elliott got a package from Grandma last week so I thought I'd post pictures of him in his new duds. Enjoy! Also- I just had the best birthday ever. After dinner I went on the back porch to find out what David had been secretly slaving over for most of the day- s'mores with homemade marshmallows and homemade graham crackers. Seriously, Mrs. Ingram, you should write a book on how to raise little boys.

Bottle Battle

David went out of town for the week for work. He left on Sunday, and this week my mission will be to get Elliott to drink from a bottle. When Elliott was small he had a few bottles here and there. David fed him when I went to yoga, sitters fed him when David and I went out, and so I considered the bottle thing "learned". And so, for the last three or four months, I have become a little lazy. He stays home with me during the day, and if I leave he comes with me too, so rather than pump and bring bottles, I just bring a blanket with us to cover up with and feed him. This, my friends, was a very stupid thing to do.

I am planning to go with some friends to Chicago the weekend after David gets back. I am terrified to leave. Not because David isn't perfectly capable of caring for his son, or because I am afraid something terrible will happen, but because I have no idea how easy or monstrous Elliott will be once I leave in someone else's car and drive five hours away for two days. Poor David could have the easiest baby on earth, or a little t-rex just waiting to happen.

I thought that we would start a routine a few nights ago, so I gave David a bottle and had him deal with Elliott at the 10 pm feeding. Elliott did fine for a few minutes, but then he started clamping down on the nipple and chewing on the bottle and his fingers. He forgot all about being hungry and instead decided to figure out the chemical composition of the silicone nipple using only his jaws. David came back up with a nearly full bottle and Elliott went back to sleep, and I have been practicing ever since.

On two occasions he drank the entire bottle in one shot. Every other time he does what he did to David that first time, gnawing on the end of the bottle. I'm sure he'd figure it out if he was hungry enough, except that sometimes he loses his mind when he's too hungry and screams until you give him what he wants. I have tried different bottle/nipple combinations and can't get consistent results. He knows how to drink from a bottle- I figured this out by giving him watered down juice, which he gobbled down in five seconds- but he just doesn't usually want to.

Any of you have any tips or advice on this?

Seven Months

Dear Elliott,

This Halloween marked your seven month birthday. October was a pretty packed month, mostly because I was trying to cram in as much activity as possible before Michigan magically transforms into the North Pole. We started out by taking you to your first Texas A&M alumni gathering. Unfortunately, this also happened to be a renewed rivalry game between the Aggies (where mommy and daddy both went to college) and University of Arkansas, our home state. The Aggies lost, which gave all of our friends a reason to call or text us and laugh at the outcome of the game. A low blow, really, when you consider the people you are taunting now live in Michigan.

We are also coming up on your first holiday season (which, by the way, is complete CHAOS in our family due to the number of relatives we have, how far away we are from them, and the amount of things I feel compelled to cram into the week that we go home), so I decided to try to start new family traditions. Ann Arbor is all about apple orchards and pumpkin patches, so we ventured out to the closest one.

Unfortunately for Daddy, it was also the most crowded and crazy one, with a country fair and petting zoo and karaoke (really, really bad karaoke). You seemed pretty uninterested and were a little doped up on Infant Motrin since you were cutting teeth, so in reality the trip was mostly for me. But next year, I'll show you how to feed the creepy llamas and cute little baby goats. Or I'll have Daddy show you, since he informed me that I was doing it wrong.

As far as milestones, you had your first cold, started teething, and learned to sit up. And your crawling abilities are pretty amazing too, which means I have to constantly watch you to make sure you aren't splashing in Jack's water bowl or cramming Dad's laptop charger in your mouth or trying to crawl down the stairs. You try to eat shoes and steal your friends' pacifiers and if I don't watch you with Jack you WILL lick his back. Which, by the way, is so GROSS- and even though Jack runs away when he sees you I think he likes when you do this because you always manage to lick the spot he can't reach.

Once we got home with some pumpkins, I decided to let you in on the experience by bringing you outside when we carved them. I dressed you in play clothes and put you on a blanket while we sat up, and you promptly crawled off of it and proceeded to try to eat all the leaves around you.

I let you touch the pumpkin guts, which were freezing, and you were interested for half a second and then started trying to eat leaves again. I finally put you in a chair beside the pumpkin guts and let you put your hand in the bowl, and proceeded to watch you shove raw pumpkin in your mouth, cringe, and then repeat. You obviously did not like how it tasted, but kept putting it in your mouth until I finally pulled the bowl away so that you would stop eating the stuff.

I made your halloween costume the week before Halloween. It was not my best effort, but I was glad that I didn't spend money on a costume that two people would have seen you wear. Next year, when you are walking around we will beg for candy from our neighbors in a much better costume. And I will not buy 5 bags of candy either, because I have had Snickers and KitKats for lunch everyday so far this week.

You have started to show preferences for things in the last month, too. You have a favorite food- Blueberry fruit puffs, a favorite person- Daddy, and a favorite toy-Nesting cups. You want to drink from a cup by yourself. When I go get you in the morning you are always peeking over your crib bumpers, waiting for me to pick you up and smiling and kicking in delight when you see me. You think that sticking your tongue out is the way to greet Daddy, because he has done it for the last few months to get you to laugh. You hate when I take away things you aren't supposed to have, when I feed you peas, and when I throw you into the air (most kids love this! I think you suspect my lack of coordination). I love watching you unfold into a little boy.

Love,

Momma

Our Monkey

Hope you had a great Halloween. We bought five bags of candy and had two (count them- one, two) trick or treaters, and Elliott crawled around our living room in his costume until an hour after his bedtime. We'll probably actually trick-or-treat next year, and I'll still eat most of his candy, but for his first Halloween I'm glad we kept it low key. Especially since our car broke mid-day.

When Delirium Sets in

There is a point, with most kids anyway, where they get so exhausted they become silly. I love this, because the kid will be teetering on this tightrope of emotion, laughing one minute and then whining or crying the next. Elliott is currently on that tightrope. I sat down with him for his midday nap, and he decided to play a game with me, kind of like a mute peekaboo game. He would peek up over the bumpers in his crib, giggle for a few minutes, and if I didn't duck out of his sight he'd slam his head down on the mattress, kick his feet, and then peek over the bumper again. He thinks this is hysterical, until he ducks down and bumps his head against the crib bars. I started to worry that he hurt his head, until he peeks over the bumper to see if I'm still there, and starts giggling again. Since I'm still there, but haven't picked him up yet, he ducks back into the mattress to "cry", then peeks over the bumper to laugh, and then repeats his new game over and over.

Monkey

I decided to try to make Elliott's Halloween costume this year, since if it turns out terribly he can't really complain, and he'll look adorable despite my questionable costume making abilities. I hunted down a plain, brown set of footed pajamas, and made a curly tail and hat to attach. I'm hoping that if I put a banana in his hands, the monkey vibe will come across, instead of Ewok or unfuzzy bear. And for now, I am putting it on his head and giggling as he crawls around. What do you think?

Budding Fisherman

Hey Grandpa Ingram and Granddaddy Gossage, you have a new fishing buddy to train.

Elliott loves the fishtank from Nicki Ingram on Vimeo.

Inked

This is what happens when you decide not to pick up after yourself after doing a crossword puzzle.

He crawls over to your pen, sticks it in his mouth, and decides to chomp on it until you look over and OhmygahElliottgimmethat GIMME THAT! And he looks at you like, "Whoa lady, you need to take it easy."

You get what you pay for

I have been growing my hair out since before I got pregnant with Elliott, which is a testiment to how monumentally slow my hair grows. Of course, I will try to get a trim or a minor cut to get through the awkward stages, but I like being able to do more than two things with my hair. That brings us up to last Friday. I decided I wanted to get a little trim, to pamper myself a little, so I made a last minute appointment with our local stylist school. I've been going there for years, since I hadn't yet fallen in love with a stylist since we'd gotten here, and although the cuts aren't usually the best quality, for $16 you can hardly complain.

HOWEVER. Oh, however, I had cause to complain after that appointment. Dear Lord, I have never had such a bad haircut experience. I told the student that I wanted a long version of the bob I normally rock, which would mean she'd take the back up an inch and call it a day. She picked up a pair of scissors before even washing my hair and started her work.

At this point I take a minute to fully evaluate my stylist. Her long, wavy hair is dyed black, except on one side where she has cropped it an inch from her scalp and dyed it blond and green. An artistic one. That's cool, I guess, I thought. In her ears were holes the size of a dime, spaced open with little plastic rings. She doesn't talk to me, just snip snip snip snip snip until I'm wondering when she is going to put those snazzy thinning shears down and wash my hair. Hair is flying into the coffee mug I am holding and I am bored with no one to talk to and no magazine to read, and I'm reminded of those scenes in Edward Scissorhands where hair is just flying and Johnny Depp looks totally creepy and you see topiaries in his backyard that he's practiced on. Finally, she talks:

"I'm about finished with the cut, but we can wash it and style it and see what you think." She hands me a mirror and I see that she has taken off most of the hair I have been growing for over a year and left a scraggly fringe of it underneath "to give the illusion of length and movement". I stroked what was left of my hair and started stuttering.

"I. Uh. It's. It's so thin. I. Um."

So she washed it. And fixed it. And it still looked awful. So I asked her to adjust the fringe. She trimmed a little and gave me the mirror. Still bad. By this time, I think she started to hate me. She told me "It's not like I can glue your hair back on". She told her instructor, who was obviously trying to save my shag, "I think I know how to cut 1/4 of an inch of hair off her head."

Finally I just told her to stop and that it was fine. I got in my car and called my sister and used a few choice words to recount the experience. Then I told David about it. Then I started crying.

David: Why are you crying?

Me: I (sob) look (sob) so (hic) UGGGGLLLLLYY (wail)!

David: No you don't. It looks fine. (David looks a little bewildered at this surge of total hormonal overreaction)

Me: I have a MULLLLETTTT! It looks terrible! I am ugly...(Sob, wail, moan)

David: Is something else wrong? I just don't think you would normally react this way.

Me: (indecipherable blabbering about mullets and Joan Jett and being UGGGGLLLLYY)

David: (Shrugs and goes to bed.) (this is not the right reaction)

I went to a real salon with real stylists three or four days later, and it's much better now. We also had a talk about his job when this kind of thing happens, which is to pretend like I am NOT overreacting and to hug me and tell me I don't have a mullet or look like Joan Jett until I believe him. And I learned that $16 haircuts are $16 for a reason.

Sweetness. Sort of.

Elliott just worked really hard to scootch over to me on the hardwood. When he finally got to me, he laid his head down on my leg and looked up at me. I thought about how sweet it was that he had worked so hard and was snuggling with my leg, and then looked at me and smiled-

and threw up on my jeans.

5 and 6 Months

Dear Elliott,

This month you get two newsletters in one, because momma has been seriously busy lately. August went by fast, because we got to spend ten awesome days with your Auntie Nicki, who swears she taught you to roll over. Then I started trying to figure out packing our house, and before I knew it, August was already over and our house needed to be moved across town in three days. So we called some friends and they did most of the work for me. We moved into our new apartment and you got your own bedroom and have slept pretty well since that, and then your Grandma Peggy and Aunt Sissa came to visit us.

They did a lot of the unpacking for us and helped make our house look like our home in record time, because apparently they are physically incapable of sitting still. They are champions of getting stuff done, and one of these days I'm going to have to try to copy them so that I can keep up with you.

You started to get up on your hands and knees that week, and I had to fight the urge to tip you over so that you couldn't figure out that you were thisclose to figuring out how to crawl. Then I watched you practice every day, watched you turn red and start yelling at the toy that your fingers just couldn't quite grasp that got pushed further and further away from you, until one day I noticed you had developed a technique. You would get on all fours, wait a second, and then fall forward an inch or two, then repeat until you managed to get close enough to whatever you were going for that your flailing hands could knock it toward your mouth.

And so now, I guess, you are kind of a big boy. A six-month-old, who can get into the toybox and pull the dog's hair and charm people's socks off by grinning a big, gummy grin. And I have managed to survive the first six months of being a mother. I am learning the fine art of respecting nap- and bedtimes but being flexible enough to not become a total anti-social hermit. I am thinking of traditions that I want our family to have since Halloween, Thanksgiving, and Christmas are all speeding our way. I am trying to figure out how to babyproof our apartment and have it still be a good place for adults to live, too.

While it is sad to see you outgrowing tee-tiny baby things and getting closer and closer to being independent and not needing me for everything, it is also pretty exciting to watch you growing and learning and opening up into a little boy.

Love, Momma

Settled in

Well, we have just about gotten everything settled in the new apartment, and i think we finally got all the kinks worked out with our internet, which comes and goes every few days. Elliott is super busy lately trying to coordinate his arms and legs in order to crawl over to things he should not have and taste them. Of course, this is VERY hard work and he wears himself out pretty quickly, and then resorts to much shouting and mumbling and frustration. I've been trying to coax a "ma ma" or "da da" sound from him as well, but this has only resulted in what looks like a poorly dubbed kung fu movie, where Elliott says "AAAAAHHHH" but moves his mouth afterwards without making any sounds. I guess it's a start.

We took him to a "infant swimming class", which was really an infant sing-a-long in water, ending with me towing Elliott from one side of the pool to the other while saying "kick kick kick!" or "scoop your arms!" or "blow bubbles like Momma!" and him looking at me blankly and then staring at whoever was in the next lane.

I don't have any pictures, but I've been taking him to the library with me a lot since I discovered that the library is way cheaper than blockbuster for movies. The branch downtown has a pretty awesome children's library, so I took Elliott in to pick out some books for bedtime stories. They have a pretty big aquarium with a couple of puffer fish and some other really colorful ones so I stood him at the table surrounding the fish tank to see if he would notice them. He stood there following fish swimming around the tank for several minutes, and would tense up and get mad when they disappeared from his view and got still and followed them across the glass when they appeared again. I thought for a millisecond that maybe we should get him some fish, but then reconsidered when I remembered who would be responsible for cleaning the bowl. I don't think David wants any more chores.

This post brought to you from my rooftop

Attention world:

After a week of settling into a new apartment and one really cranky weekend, my baby has officially slept from 8:30 to 8 am twice now. Which means, I have slept for 7 hours, uninterrupted, for two nights in a row. I haven't had that much sleep since about this time last year. I have been feeding him a bowl of cereal before bed, and then nursing him again before I go to bed, and miraculous things have happened. Both mornings I have woken up thinking "YES!" and then "ohmygosh I need to go make sure he's still breathing". But he is. I love that kid.

Home sweet home

Well, we are finally officially out of our old apartment, thanks to our amazing friends and David's hard work. We aren't remotely close to being unpacked yet, but we have it set up so that we can get around in our new place with only a few obstacle courses, take showers, and wash laundry. And speaking of, I have done so much laundry. I've become obsessive, and have probably done ten loads or so thinking all the while how much I would have spent at our other place to do the same amount of laundry in the coin operated machines. I've washed our clothes and towels, sheets, comforters, couch pillow cases, Jack's bed- you name it. David also got those handy Purex sheets that have the laundry soap and dryer sheets in one, and although they are sort of pricey, I love them. My house smells like laundry and has clean pillow cases. I can die happy now.

The second day we were here David spotted a yard sale a couple of blocks from the house so I loaded up Elliott in the stroller and we walked down there. The only downside to the new place is that there isn't a sidewalk on our block, so I have to stroll in the street, but once I got out I realized all the lovely things that make up for it. For example, our neighborhood is crawling with kids. Almost every house we passed has a stroller, bike, or plastic picnic table in the front yard. We are less than a block from two really nice parks. I'm excited to take Elliott to try out the baby swings, but as he's still a bit wobbly when I try to sit him up I haven't done it yet.

The second bedroom is working out very nicely too. Bedtime is at 7:30, and although the first few nights didn't go as planned due to the loud bumps of us moving furniture and Elliott knowing this was NOT the place he went to sleep, he is settling into the new surroundings. I feed him before I go to bed, and he has been waking up once (last night was at 5 am) and continues to sleep until 9 am or so.

Jack is slowly adjusting, but for a while he kept getting in the car once all of the boxes were cleared out. It was like he was telling us, "That was fun. Let's go home now." He is trying to sleep on the furniture too, and David thinks Jack is guessing that with a new house comes new rules. But what Jack doesn't realize is that I just washed those couch cushions, buddy, and I didn't do it so he could have a fresh palette to stink up.

I'll post some pictures as soon as I find the cables to the camera.

Hey, I remembered how to type!

Look at that. I've completely forgotten to update my blog. Things are a little hectic right now, since we are planning to move this weekend and I have become hopelessly addicted to finishing the Harry Potter series. I requested eleventy billion library books thinking they would stagger in, giving me a steady stream of entertainment, but they all came through at the same time. Thinking I would start with the fifth book of the series since it would be a fun, quick read lead me into reading 600 page books any spare minute I have because good grief is this story addicting. I'm obsessive about books that way.

Anyhow, I did have a new little adventure last week. Once a month the local theater has a baby-friendly movie showing, and I tagged along with a few other mom friends and watched the Time Traveler's wife. The concept (Catch up on the latest movie with your baby and you won't be glared at when he cries/eats/makes embarrassing noises) was amazing, the movie was not. I've heard the book is better (and isn't it always?) but I was trying hard not to poke the nearest lady and say "Seriously? What the heck?" Luckily another like-minded friend was laughing pretty heartily too, and so we both made fun of the movie when no one else was listening.

Also, packing- with a baby? Not fun. Let me clarify. I am a disaster when it comes to packing. I stand with a box in a room full of stuff and freeze. My sister packed me for college. My mom packed for me once too. David bears the burden of most of our moving work. I'm just baffled as to where to start. My packers always say the same thing: ANYWHERE. For the love of all things, just throw that stuff. in your box. and keep doing it until there is nothing left. THIS IS NOT ROCKET SCIENCE. And I just stare at the pile and imagine what will happen when I pack away the sheets, and then Elliott throws up in our bed. Or I pack away the medicine cabinet and come down with ebola. THEN WHAT?

So add in some more writhing, hollering, spitting up distraction, and yeah- I fail at moving.

Quiet in the fitting rooms!

Elliott and I just got back from a trip to the mall so that I could get some more clothes. It isn't like I don't have clothes, or even that they don't fit, because most of them do. It's just that most of my wardrobe was not purchased with nursing in mind, so if Elliott gets all riled up in the middle of some public place, it is usually helpful to be able to feed him without too much fuss. Because if you have a hungry, screamy baby people look at you like are OBVIOUSLY starving that poor baby. I remember once upon a time looking at women in Ikea or Target with screaming kids and thinking, "just take him home! He's tired!" I apologize, random shoppers, for judging you. I had no idea. And all you wanted was a shelf, or some toilet paper. You even brought a bottle, but your kid got all uppity about his method of feeding and wants you to get naked here in the middle of the store. If I saw you now, I'd haul over a pillow from the bedding section so that you could at least be comfortable.

It's stuff like this that you just wouldn't know until you lived it. A friend of mine had to literally sit in the middle of the sidewalk on the way to the bookstore that we were walking to and turn her back to traffic to feed her screaming baby, who refused the bottle. She was so embarrassed, but saw no other option. Thankfully it hasn't gotten to that point for me yet, but I do get it now.

Anyway, the stores. I found great stuff, and didn't spend too much, and decided to press my luck by going to Kohl's afterward- even though Elliott hadn't been able to catch a nap in his stroller. Off we went, and halfway through the trip Elliott started to cry, and was not having the bottle I brought. I checked out the "family restroom" and the ladies room, but the only option for sitting down to feed him would have been a toilet seat.

Absolutely Not. Barf.

Anyway, it dawned on me that I could use a fitting room, and so the other mom I was with came along too. Both of the babies fussed for a minute (and when I say fussed, I mean Elliott WIGGED OUT for two minutes) and then Elliott ate and calmed down. Apparently some girl in the fitting rooms was trying to talk on the phone but couldn't hear over the noise of our children. She seemed annoyed by the noise we were creating, and told her friend she would have to call them back since she couldn't hear anything. It was interesting that she either didn't know or didn't care if we could hear her end of the conversation and deduce that the annoying people she was referring to were us, but I'm slowly getting used to the fact that people aren't generally excited to see women with strollers sharing their space. Or at least, not while those strollers are generating so much racket.