I'm not sure how many people actually read this blog, but I need some advice about flying with an 11 month old. Don't be shy--please comment! I know I've asked this before, but that was back when James was six months old. The kid has changed drastically in the last five months. So, anyone out there have some good ideas? (Besides drugging him; the last time we gave him Benadryl, it had the opposite effect intended. And besides a portable DVD player. We haven't graduated to luxuries like that yet.). He's a typical 11 month old: he won't sit still, he wants to walk everywhere, and the last time he fell asleep in my arms was probably on the flight five months ago, in which he fought big time when I tried to rock him to sleep. Needless to say, I'm getting quite nervous about flying with our little wiggle worm.
Specifics are helpful, too. If you think books are the best thing, what books did your kids like at this age? What toys keep them entertained for longer than five minutes? What are some specific tricks that worked to get through a long flight? Etc., etc., etc.
Thank you!
Sunday, October 17, 2010
Friday, October 15, 2010
Like Father Like Son
James loves to play with Brian's tennis rackets and he chases tennis balls all around our house. Even if I put the rackets away, he still manages to find them. Last weekend after Andrea and Nicki showed up (an awesome surprise), we took him to the tennis courts (I wish I had pictures of it). I thought he'd get bored and scream after five minutes, but he loved every second of it.
Yes, the kid still loves the binkies that they give the newborns at the hospitals (we're already in the weaning process, don't worry). Although the rackets are still bigger than he is, he drags them all over the place.
James is also fascinated with teeth. Probably because he STILL doesn't have any. He pokes his fingers in our mouths and likes to feel around whenever he gets the chance. 
If he shares any of my interests, they are not readily apparent. We'll work on that.
Yes, the kid still loves the binkies that they give the newborns at the hospitals (we're already in the weaning process, don't worry). Although the rackets are still bigger than he is, he drags them all over the place.
James is also fascinated with teeth. Probably because he STILL doesn't have any. He pokes his fingers in our mouths and likes to feel around whenever he gets the chance. If he shares any of my interests, they are not readily apparent. We'll work on that.
Monday, October 4, 2010
For my mom and sisters
Since my mom and sisters are constantly spoiling James with awesome outfits, I figured I better post some pictures of him in some of them so that they can see how cute he looks.
And, finally, he just got these winter jammies in the mail today from his grandma--just in time for cooler weather.
Also, in other updates, the little pipsqueek is officially 10 months old and started walking last month. He takes a lot of tumbles every day but has slowly but steadily increased his confidence and pace. I am proud of him but it also makes me kinda sad that he is already to this stage. Sigh.
Practicing his new walking skills in his new fall church shirt (still a little big): 
His polo sweat suit Aunt Amy bought him when he was born--it's finally cool enough here for him to wear it, and just in time--he's already almost too tall for the pants.
His polo sweat suit Aunt Amy bought him when he was born--it's finally cool enough here for him to wear it, and just in time--he's already almost too tall for the pants.
His Nike sweat suit from Andrea--I swear, he looks 2-years-old in this outfit. 
And, finally, he just got these winter jammies in the mail today from his grandma--just in time for cooler weather.
Stop Obama
Nearly every stop sign around our neighborhood has been slightly altered (It wasnt me! I swear they were this way when we moved in!). Normally, I would consider something like this vandalism. In this case, though, I'll just call it freedom of speech.
Monday, September 6, 2010
Home
I've been trying for awhile now to sum up my feelings on my new "home," this new place I live. I've never sat down and actually written something out, which would probably make the most sense. Instead, I just think about it. A lot. The truth is, I'm still figuring it out.
Some days I actually quite like Tennessee. Other days, I don't dislike it, per se, I just like it less. Knoxville isn't a large city. In fact, it's quite small. Some days it feels too small. The other day I was listening to Frank Sinatra's "New York, New York" and the phrase "My little town blues are melting away" hit me and I let out a big sigh when I realized that maybe I had the "little town blues" and that part of the "like it less" days are a direct result of missing the bigger city life (which I know I haven't lived in awhile, but has never quite left my system). Sure, there is something charming about lesser populated areas, but I found myself missing the hustle and bustle of city life: taxi cabs honking at each other, the sounds of the horns reverberating from buildings; watching people get off the subway and make their way to work in their suits and fancy shoes, etc. That's not Knoxville. Not at all. (Although I have noticed that there is a large group of women here who dress up super fancy just to go to the grocery store. I think those are the same women who just came from a day of tennis at the local country club, which there seem to be plenty of. Now that's Knoxville. There are definitely the stereotypical country folk here, but there is also major money and I can't figure out where it comes from and how people have so much of it, but that's another story. . . )
But in the end, it's more than just big city life that I've been thinking about in trying to decipher my feelings. I'm not good at being "the new person" no matter what city I'm in. The feeling of being new and out of place doesn't sit well with me. I get stir crazy living in a new place. So every day I try and make an effort to get out of the house. Probably more for my sake than JB's. So in between morning and afternoon naps, my little boy and I go somewhere. Anywhere just to get out. And after an hour or two, when it's nap time again, I always say, "Okay, James, it's time to go home." And without fail, every time I say those words I feel a twinge of sadness and uncertainty. Home. Let's go home. Are we home? Is that what this is? Home? And that's been the hardest part for me. I think I feel the furthest from home I've ever been. A million miles away. So it only makes it harder when your sister and dearest friend come for a visit. A visit that is so refreshing and just what you needed (to be with people who truly know and get you, that connection usually missing by being in a new place). And, of course, as all good visits go, it goes by way too quickly. And so even though it feels like they just got here, the time comes to drop them off at the airport and say goodbye. And as you drive away and say the words "Okay, James, let's go home," you realize, looking through the rearview mirror, that "home" is standing on the curb waving goodbye to you. And then on the rest of the drive back to your house you cry because you are a baby and that's what babies do.
Some days I actually quite like Tennessee. Other days, I don't dislike it, per se, I just like it less. Knoxville isn't a large city. In fact, it's quite small. Some days it feels too small. The other day I was listening to Frank Sinatra's "New York, New York" and the phrase "My little town blues are melting away" hit me and I let out a big sigh when I realized that maybe I had the "little town blues" and that part of the "like it less" days are a direct result of missing the bigger city life (which I know I haven't lived in awhile, but has never quite left my system). Sure, there is something charming about lesser populated areas, but I found myself missing the hustle and bustle of city life: taxi cabs honking at each other, the sounds of the horns reverberating from buildings; watching people get off the subway and make their way to work in their suits and fancy shoes, etc. That's not Knoxville. Not at all. (Although I have noticed that there is a large group of women here who dress up super fancy just to go to the grocery store. I think those are the same women who just came from a day of tennis at the local country club, which there seem to be plenty of. Now that's Knoxville. There are definitely the stereotypical country folk here, but there is also major money and I can't figure out where it comes from and how people have so much of it, but that's another story. . . )
But in the end, it's more than just big city life that I've been thinking about in trying to decipher my feelings. I'm not good at being "the new person" no matter what city I'm in. The feeling of being new and out of place doesn't sit well with me. I get stir crazy living in a new place. So every day I try and make an effort to get out of the house. Probably more for my sake than JB's. So in between morning and afternoon naps, my little boy and I go somewhere. Anywhere just to get out. And after an hour or two, when it's nap time again, I always say, "Okay, James, it's time to go home." And without fail, every time I say those words I feel a twinge of sadness and uncertainty. Home. Let's go home. Are we home? Is that what this is? Home? And that's been the hardest part for me. I think I feel the furthest from home I've ever been. A million miles away. So it only makes it harder when your sister and dearest friend come for a visit. A visit that is so refreshing and just what you needed (to be with people who truly know and get you, that connection usually missing by being in a new place). And, of course, as all good visits go, it goes by way too quickly. And so even though it feels like they just got here, the time comes to drop them off at the airport and say goodbye. And as you drive away and say the words "Okay, James, let's go home," you realize, looking through the rearview mirror, that "home" is standing on the curb waving goodbye to you. And then on the rest of the drive back to your house you cry because you are a baby and that's what babies do.
Saturday, August 28, 2010
August
What we've been up to (okay, what James has been up to) . . .
James finally traded in his pack 'n play for a real bed, or at least a real crib. Yes, that's right, our little boy has been sleeping in a portable crib his entire life (don't judge). He probably would have been fine sleeping in it for another few months but we always said as soon as we got to Knoxville we'd get him a real crib, and, well, here we are in Knoxville. The little rascal learned to pull himself up last month and let's just say that naps have become a little trickier since then. I usually have to go lay him down several times before he'll go to sleep. He thinks it's a game. Yeah, real fun, James! 
Here's his new bed. I think he likes it, don't you?
Sometimes little Jamers wakes up from naps sad. When he does, it breaks our hearts. . .
This is James' chair. He's made good use of it since he was about one month old. We don't put him in it any more, and haven't for months, for obvious reasons. The boy can't sit still and wouldn't even sit in it if we tried to make him. But back in the day, it was the only way I could get things done. Let's compare then and now, shall we?:
Eight months ago:
Yesterday:
James, why are you getting so big so fast? Trust me, growing up is not all it's cracked up to be! Speaking of growing, everyone told me once he started crawling that the baby fat would just melt off. Melt off like butter, they said. Nothing but lies! It's been almost 6 weeks now since he started crawling and some way, some how, this little boy has figured out a way to become even chubbier since then. Can someone please explain that to me? I can't complain too much because I wouldn't trade in those cheeks for anything, but I can't help but wonder if he's destined for chipmunk cheeks and double chins forever.
Yesterday:
James, why are you getting so big so fast? Trust me, growing up is not all it's cracked up to be! Speaking of growing, everyone told me once he started crawling that the baby fat would just melt off. Melt off like butter, they said. Nothing but lies! It's been almost 6 weeks now since he started crawling and some way, some how, this little boy has figured out a way to become even chubbier since then. Can someone please explain that to me? I can't complain too much because I wouldn't trade in those cheeks for anything, but I can't help but wonder if he's destined for chipmunk cheeks and double chins forever. 
Chubby cheeks or not, he absolutely loves to look at himself in the mirror. I think he finally gets that he's looking at himself and it cracks me up watching him laugh at himself. I sure do love this little boy!
Coming soon: Pictures and thoughts on Knoxville.
Thursday, August 12, 2010
A few of his favorite things . . .
The little man has a thing with shoes lately--especially sandals and Nikes--so this morning I finally pulled out the Nikes my parents gave him months ago and let him try them on. They still don't fit but they sure looked cute. I swear, he's looking less like a baby and more and more like a little boy every passing day (he's finally getting hair, but still no teeth). He has started pulling himself up onto things (anything!) and trying to stand. This results in a lot of falls, which don't deter him at all, but consequently result in half a dozen or so mini heart attacks for me.
And, of course, I had to throw in a shot of his classic lower lip bite . . .
His favorite foods seem to be sweet potatoes and a pear/rice cereal combo. I love giving him new foods to try but since he'll eat absolutely everything we give him, I can't wait until he can tell me what he actually likes. The little rascal is so hard to feed these days. Every time I point the spoon in his direction he grabs ahold of it as quickly and tightly as he can and then I have to fight him to get it back. By the end of the meal, we are both usually covered in baby food slime. Fun times. I have finally concluded that kids are just messy and there isn't a lot you can do about it at this age.
But messy or not, if this boy is happy, so am I!
And, of course, I had to throw in a shot of his classic lower lip bite . . .His favorite foods seem to be sweet potatoes and a pear/rice cereal combo. I love giving him new foods to try but since he'll eat absolutely everything we give him, I can't wait until he can tell me what he actually likes. The little rascal is so hard to feed these days. Every time I point the spoon in his direction he grabs ahold of it as quickly and tightly as he can and then I have to fight him to get it back. By the end of the meal, we are both usually covered in baby food slime. Fun times. I have finally concluded that kids are just messy and there isn't a lot you can do about it at this age.But messy or not, if this boy is happy, so am I!
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