Waiting...

I actually have lots to write about- Elliott just turned 10 months old, I spent all weekend working on a project with my new sewing machine, and we had a reunion with our Mom and Baby group yesterday- but instead I'm kind of holding my breath until we hear from the vet.

When we woke up yesterday morning, Jack seemed fine. David took him outside, and when he came back we noticed Jack looked a little stiff. I thought maybe the cold weather was hurting his joints or something, because he sort of shuffled up the stairs and into the kitchen. David gave him breakfast, and he ate it and laid down. Then we set out to fix the issue of the dead battery in our car. We had a friend come over and jump the battery, and David went to go replace it.

Elliott and I were settling in to play, and I noticed Jack was sitting down and looked like he was dragging his bottom across the floor. I was about to yell at him to stop, but then I realized he was really trying to get up to come over to us. He couldn't seem to get off the floor. I ran out and stopped David to come look at him, and he helped Jack stand up by lifting his back legs. His right leg didn't seem to do anything, but his left leg shuffled him across the floor. His body swayed toward the left leg shakily, and he came over to us slowly. David checked him for pain and he didn't seem to have any. I called the vet while David went to the auto parts store, and I decided we would take him in tomorrow, since something was definitely wrong, but he didn't seem to be hurting and was eating and not sick.

Later that afternoon, Jack hadn't moved that much. He could get to his back legs after trying for a while when we checked him out, but by 5 pm he couldn't get up at all, couldn't support his back legs, couldn't go to the bathroom when David carried him outside. We fed him his dinner and I watched as his front legs quaked trying to support his weight while he tried to lower his head to his bowl. He still managed to eat his dinner and drink some water, but it was obvious that he was getting worse. David took him to the emergency clinic at the vet. I had to sit at home with Elliott and google everything I could find about a dog suddenly losing the use of his hind legs, finding everything from a spinal injury to hip dysplasia to a saddle thrombus. Nothing looked super promising.

When David came back he said that Jack had to stay in the vet while they ran tests and gave him medicine and tried to figure out what was wrong. Our house is too quiet. There are no clicks on the hardwood, no water bowl scraping the kitchen floor, no squeaks from Jacks decapitated duck. I miss him.

New toy for Momma

Merry Christmas to ME!!! I used my Christmas money to upgrade my sewing machine this weekend. My first project: Our sad chair. We bought this chair right after we got married when we were living in Bay City, TX, and got it for twenty bucks. Having no children or foresight at the time, I made white cushion covers for it with black piping. I was pretty proud of my handiwork at the time, but after three moves, three Thanksgiving dinners with lots of red wine, and one lovable little boy, our chair was in seriously sad shape. So this weekend I bought thicker foam for the cushions and used some practical, beige fabric for the chair, and now it looks like this:instead of this:

Hooray for upgrades!

Month 9

Dear Elliott,

Okay, again with the late newsletter, but I've never been great with punctuality. You, however, seem to be one of those early people. You were born early, and crawled early, and are apparently trying to add walking to this list. And I am trying to thwart those efforts.

Okay, not really, but it is equal parts thrilling and TOTAL BUMMER to watch you pull up on the couch next to me, let go for a few seconds, and raise your hands in total victory. "I am big! You are heartbroken! Booyah!"

This month was a big one for our family, because we celebrated your first Christmas and you took your first trip to Arkansas. In fact, it was also your first trip to Ohio, Kentucky, Tennessee, and Louisiana, because we decided to tempt fate with a 16 hour car trip with a baby and a dog. You did pretty well, considering you were completely off of anything resembling a schedule and were trying hard to cut your top teeth, but there were a few incidents along the way. You woke approximately 32 times per night, leaving your father and me completely wrecked while I tried to keep you quiet. You managed not to catch the awful, awful stomach virus that Daddy and I caught on our anniversary and then passed around to everyone in Benton, but then we took you Granny's house for New Years Eve so we could recover and you apparently slept for 45 minutes the whole night. This was your Granny's idea- and while she says she did it so you would sleep for us, I know she really just wanted to squeeze every second out of the night that she could. I can't say I blame her.

You met all of your grandparents, Great-Grandparents, and your Great Great Grandmother, who unfortunately passed just after we left town. She was going to turn 109 this month, and she was a really lovely lady. I wish I would have been able to talk to her a little about all the things she's seen in the last century- about how different (or similar) a place the world has become, and how she is directly responsible for the two people I love more than anything in the world.

Now you have spent as much time on the outside as you did on the inside, and in this time have blossomed into this dancing, grinning, attention-magnet little boy with blondish hair and blue eyes and rosy chubby cheeks. I know I am going to turn around soon and you will walk over to me, ask me questions, and develop interests in things other than laptop cords and remote controls. Happy New Year, Ellybelly. You are adored.

Love,

Momma

Holiday Recap

We're Baaaack! I can officially say we survived a road trip with a 9 month old and dog, and it was a relatively smooth trip. Well, aside from teething, waking up eleventy billion times a night, and a wicked stomach virus. Those parts were pretty rocky.

We are now trying to find a place for all of Elliott's new toys and watching Elliott steady himself on two legs. Also, he has started dancing if music is on (even tv theme music), which is so cute. He hears a tune and smiles really big, then starts bouncing up and down. David says he dances like me, and I'm pretty sure that's a dig even though he wouldn't know since he's REFUSED to dance with me since high school prom. I guess that isn't fair, since he did sign up for a country dancing class with me at A&M before our wedding, and he put me to shame in the classes we went to. But whatever- he had an edge. I didn't get line dancing lessons in kindergarten.

Anyway, now my sweet, happy baby has developed rhythm, and also quite a temper. The first night we were home he screamed when I put him in his bed and stopped as soon as I picked him up, showing me that he didn't agree that it was bed time and PICK ME UP WOMAN PICK ME UP is his preferred method of communication. I came in yesterday from picking up groceries, since our freezer crapped out and thawed everything in the freezer, and then resumed working once it had ruined all the food we had. Elliott was screaming the same way as he had at bedtime, and I asked David how long he had been doing that. He had apparently been peachy until David took away the remote control from him, and he responded by alerting our neighbors to his apparent bloody murder.

I think he got this way right before he started crawling, too- just got super crabby and screamy when he couldn't get things to go his way- so I'm hoping these tantrums resolve with his ability to get around on two feet. However, when he does that, He'll be WALKING, and I'm not ready for him to look all big and walk around our place.

ANY

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