maybe baby: between a rock and a hard place

The past couple of months have been a bit rough … physically and emotionally. The weekend of Daddy’s Day I started experiencing some rockin’ pelvic pain — like leg-numbing, head-spinning pain. I thought my little ovarian cyster was back, but a UTI diagnosis, two cat scans and a sono later revealed that I didn’t have a cyst, but rather a stone — who-hoo.

Kidney stones, my friends — not purty.

When I was told by my urologist — who bares an uncanny attitude resemblance to the crazy OB/GYN in Knocked Up (I almost laughed out loud the first time we met) — that passing a stone is worse than squeezing out a baby sans epidural, I immediately signed up for the kidney stone master blaster. This noninvasive procedure uses sound waves to break apart the stone so that you can pass it in not-so-painful pieces. But, this in no way eliminates the gag factor, but I’ll spare ya’ those details (yay, you).



Anywhoo, turns out, the master blaster isn’t always 100% effective on the first shot … and, as luck would have it, it’s looking like I’m not so much a one-and-done kinda gal. My two-week follow-up showed that my stone was still hanging out and the doc gave me a two-month warning: “Pee It Out, Or I’m Coming In.” Oh, goody.



I have about 4 weeks left to get my rock rollin …

As much fun as this whole ordeal has been, it’s just the tip if the iceberg. It looks like the kidney stone may not have been the pain culprit after all, but rather just a fun little bonus. All signs are now pointing to endometriosis — a little insult to injury to someone who’s already battled infertility. Sigh.

The hubs and I have always said that this December we’d start working on baby No. 2. And though I blogged earlier this summer about some unexpected struggles with this decision, Chris and I both long to have another baby. I can’t even put it into words … I get huge crocodile tears just thinking of Coop holding his baby brother or sister … he would be such an amazing, loving brother (as long as we hide anything that can be used as a weapon).

Now that we’re committed to moving forward, I am absolutely terrified of going back … of diving head first into a sea of infertility issues, especially with this fun little female friend tagging along for the ride.

And because kidney stones and girl gunk aren’t enough for one post … there’s this minor little detail of potty training. We are all potty talk, all the time. And I hate it. I mean I love it, but I. hate. It.



I want Coop to be the big boy who uses the big boy potty and wears the big boy pants, but I also want to cling to his rapidly dwindling days of babyhood with every fiber of my being. Every day brings about change and growth and maturity and it’s exciting and beautiful and painful all at the same time.

This weekend, out of nowhere, Coop started saying, “I don’t want that.” I was floored. The day before all he’d mutter was “No” to voice his objections. And a mere 24 hours later he seemed so cognizant, so capable … so big.

He used the potty for the first time at school today (as opposed to simply sitting there, happily flushing clean water down the drain). So, we went to the store and got his first pack of pull-ups. I cried (such a sap). After bath time, Coop sat on his “thrown” (the hubs got him a music-playing potty complete with a crown on the lid), while I read the book he picked out — The Potty Train — specifically for moments like these. By the time the last “chugga chugga poooo pooo!” was read, Coop went pee pee and the potty sang out like royalty had just entered the room.

He looked at me and said, “I deed it.”



I never imagined that peeing could bring me so much pride. But, then again, I never imagined I could ever love someone the way I love that little “man” o’ mine.

It’ll be interesting to see what the next few weeks bring – with Coop making the potty sing, with me hoping I make a rock roll and with the three of us waiting to see if we’ll become four...

What about bob?

A good friend called late Friday afternoon and wanted to know if I was interested in some tickets. Once upon a time, the idea of snagging last-minute free entrance to a concert/theater production/tractor pull … would’ve piqued my interest, but I probably would’ve passed (I’m more of a planner, a plotter, rather than a fly-by-the-seat of her Hanes her ways kinda' gal).

Now, however, give me nearly two years in the trenches of mommyhood, take away one daddy for five days and hallelujah I’m singing your praises all the way to the front row (or row T, as it were).

Last Saturday, free tickets in hand, my friend Lindsay, her cutie patootie 3-year-old, Connor, Cooper (now 21 months) and I made the long pilgrimage from the ’burbs to downtown Dallas for an afternoon showing of Bob the Builder.

Coop and his sudden OBSESSION with Elmo has had me curious as to whether or not he was ready for a live-action, cartoon(ish), $30-plus-per-ticket kind of thing, so I was beyond thrilled to have this opportunity to scope out the situation on someone’s else dime (yee-ha!).

Let me say that my excitement over bob was quickly tempered when I realized—a whopping five minutes into a 90-minute show (plus a 20-minute intermission)—that Coop was in nooooo way ready for “Broadway.”

Sippy cups rolled down the aisle, prompting the ever-attentive usher to scurry after them with a flashlight. Raisins were tossed on the floor, causing shoes to glob together with the floor. Coop crawled up and down (up and down, oh Lord the up and the down) three flights of lobby stairs instead of watching bob, generating beads of sweat and throbbing thighs (hmm, a hot-mama workout in the making?).

But, the few pockets of bob Coop actually sat through were great. I snagged a few pics, helped “blow” the wind turbine into action and the song about recycling took me back to the hand-jive days of Grease—luv it!

Maybe we’ll give ol’ bob another go in another year (or 2, or 12). Until then, it’s all Elmo, all the time, safely tucked behind the TV screen.


Bob and crew working to create a recycling center (or at least that what's I gathered from the 10 minutes we saw).


Lindsay caught me and Coop in a rare moment ... sitting still! Who-hoo!


Coop's favorite part of bob ...


Lindsay and Connor post-show. Before we even left the theater Connor was asking Mom if he could see it again ... aww! So worth it!!!

the last day

The last day of 2008 is also the last day in our apartment … we’re (finally) moving baby, who-hoo!

As excited as I am to kiss the big, white box good-bye, I’m a bit sad about it, too.

We celebrated anniversaries, birthdays, holidays, happy days, sad days, any days in Apt. 426. We lost jobs in Apt. 426. We found new ones, too. We loved (and laughed with) family and friends through cancer, heart disease, heart break, major life changes, minor life changes in Apt. 426. We embraced new loved ones, said our final good-byes to others and rejoiced in the blessings each brought to our lives in Apt. 426.

But above all of the living, the laughing, the loving, there’s one thing that matters most …

we became a family in Apt. 426.

On May 18, 2007, a tiny ball of squirming wonderfulness entered our lives and four days later we walked through the door of Apt. 426 as proud and petrified parents.

Over the next 19 months, up at all hours gave way to full nights’ sleep, bottles gave way to baby food, sitting-rolling-crawling gave way to walking, which gave way to running, inconsolable gave way to temper tantrums and silence gave way to the most beautiful sounds ever heard … Coop’s first coo, his first laugh, his first word, his first zerber on mommy’s cheek. It all happened in Apt. 426.

Here’s to last days. And here’s to first ones.

happy last day in 2008, everyone, hope it's a great one!

big step

It’s official. I’m now the mommy of a toddler. It truly seems like yesterday that I was all misty eyed and overwhelmed with emotion as I carried and cuddled Cooper in my arms as we entered his infant classroom at daycare for the very first time.

And now, here I am, more than a year later, reflecting on the events of this morning … the morning I walked beside my little boy as he said good-bye to his infant classroom and hello his new room. The toddler room.

Aside from taking one nap instead of two and getting to go outside, the big leap, in my mind, is that Coop gets to wear shoes to “school” now. We got him a new pair last night to commemorate the occasion and, well, as a child who hates ANYTHING on his feet, wearing shoes all day is going to be quite the adjustment (on top of new teachers, new friends, new routines).

Before we even made it to daycare today, Cooper had managed to yank off one of his new tennis shoes and he was bound and determined to get to the remaining sock. He was kicking his feet a mile a minute when I went to get him out of his carseat.

I’ve been a little heart sick about how Coop would do today — especially with the shoes. I was worried that he’d kick them off so much (and have a subsequent meltdown every time the teacher had to put them back on) that she might just sell him on eBay before I could pick him up (a feeling I know all too well). ;)

I called earlier to see how my little shoe-loather was adjusting. His teacher said, “He's prancing around like he's king of the world.”

With his shoes off ... that's my boy. ;)

p.s. The first pic was taken today, on our way to Coop's first day (at 17 months) in the toddler room (shoes still on, but not for long). The second was when Coop was 9 weeks old and headed to daycare for the first time (socks still on, but not for long).

hey good lookin'

Bless the genius who came up with the car-shaped hair-cuttin' chair complete with a steerable wheel! I can't say that Coop loved getting his little goldy locks lopped off yesterday, but he LOVED the car he was in. In fact, he pitched a fit when it was time to go. So glad the fit came AFTER the hair cut! He did great!!! I was so proud of him, and, though he looks soooo much older now, he looks handsome, handsome, handsome. I'm still shocked that the hubs and I made such a cute kid! ;)

Coop is sky-rocketing toward toddlerhood, a reality which is always tinged with sadness, but his babyhood was so amazing, I know this next chapter will be just as beautiful (now, if only we could get this wanna' be toddler to um, toddle, full time! LOL!)

so long, mullet man

Today is the day ... the day that the business in the front and the party in the back goes buh-by!

It took weeks of convincing the hubs, but the day is finally here ... 16 months and two days and Coop's finally getting his first hair cut! Who-hoo!

We have an appointment at one of those funzie, for kids-only places this afternoon and I can't wait! I know my lil' baby will suddenly look like a little boy with just a few snips of the scissors, but it's time ... it's waaaay time.

Wish me luck (hope Coop doesn't make the hair lady run for the hills!).

Pics to come later.

walk like ...

you mean it. ;) Yesterday was the American Heart Association Heart Walk and, though it seemed like Hurricane Ike was going to unleash on the festivities (well, he did just a touch ... at first), the rain and wind couldn't dampen the spirits of those in attendance.

Team PPAI was out in full force representing the company and walking for our loved ones ... um, well sort, of. Our original 10-member team shrank in size due to the start of soccer season, sick kiddos and concern over parents who were experiencing Ike head on. But three of us carried on, with two honorary members. =)

It was a great experience (as always), however I was a bit bummed because Chris and Coop could't join me. Daycare called (AGAIN!) on Friday saying Coop was running fever. He was congested and coughing and all kinds of yuck, so dada stayed and tended to the snot rocket.

But ... by last night Coop was in better spirits and, after bath time, he decided to do a lil' walk of his own!!! Aww, that's my boy (he's nearly 16 months, but he's getting there, one step, one fall, one crawl at a time).


Pics from the AHA Start! Heart Walk Our team shirts (thanks Suze!!!)

Melissa and her adorable daughter Terra

The crowd ... great numbers despite the impending threat of a tropical storm.

The team walking it out for heart disease

At the finish line ... we made it!

potty talk

So, Coop, Mr. I’m-Not-Gonna’-Walk-Until-I’m-Good-And-Ready, is focusing his attention away from his lack of upright motor skills and toward getting into every freakin’ thing not nailed down (well, even that stuff isn’t safe).

He’s OBSESSED with the kitchen cabinets and drawers, the fridge, dishwasher, clothes dryer and the shower (especially when I’m in it!) but my personal fav has to be the toilet. Ugh. Why the fascination? I mean I get it, there’s a lid, it bangs (loudly!) when you lift it and let gravity plunk it down, there’s water, there’s a lever thing that makes the best noise ever when you yank it, and there’s a random black hole, but. Come. On. I have to race that little turkey to see who can get to the seat first … Mommy who has to pee (really, really badly) or Cooper who wants to play. Well, at least I burn a calorie two in the Great Potty Race of 2008.

Hmm, the next amazing Olympic sport?

p.s. (at left) Coop found the doggie door at Nana and Pappy’s house over the weekend. Crack. Me. Up. (just glad we don’t have one!)

HUH!

This past weekend at my mom's, something strange happened - Coop became a mover and a shaker. OVERNIGHT. From Friday afternoon to Saturday morning my lil' guy started incorporating his KNEES into his "crawling" technique ... he actually looks like a quasi normal baby now! HUH!

He started pulling up ... on everything! HUH!

And, as the pictures below will show, he bypassed jumping in his jumper and instead opted for climbing THROUGH it. HUH!

So much progress in so little time, Coop just left my baffled. And in awe. Love this guy!

sweet seat

Last weekend was big. Not just because it was our family’s first experience with ear infections (bleck!) or because it was Memorial Day (thank you!). But because Coop hit a milestone. A major, Major, MAJOR milestone! He finally got to face-forward in the car! Who-hoo! Yippee! Yee-ha!

Age requirement met? Check!
Height requirement met? Check!
Weight requirement met? Check!
Ready to face the world? Check! Check! Check!

I was so freakin’ excited to get Coop a “big boy” car seat that I could barely stand it. During the 30(ish) minutes that he wasn’t screaming and/or sleeping on Saturday (yes, he’s been known to do both at the same time … quite talented that lil’ man o’ mine), we made the trek to the best store in the world — Target — and snatched up a sweet seat I’d been eyeing for awhile.

It’s black and grey (so it coordinates perfectly with my mommy mobile … hubby, stop rollin’ your eyes!) and has a removable cup holder that Coop is obsessed with! He looks so little in his big boy seat and I know it’s only a matter of time before he’s filling out every nook and cranny.

I love, love, love being able to glance in the backseat and see Coop’s little face; no longer having to guess whether he’s sleeping, playing, zoning or just ignoring me because he can. The best part? Whenever I flip down the visor mirror, I catch Coop’s eye and he gives me the biggest, snaggle-toothiest grin ever to warm a mommy’s heart.

It. Is. The. Absolute. Best.


“Dada” installing the new car seat.

“Dada” sweatin’ AFTER installing the new car seat in 99-degree weather with 800-million-percent humidity.

Coop checkin’ out his new chair … already trying to see how to detach the cup holder.

I think he likes his new digs. So cute!

Aaaannnddd we’re back to the screaming fit. Poor baby.

he did it!!!

cheeri oh's

well, this was quite the weekend.

I won't go into how I cried all the way home after picking Cooper up from daycare on Friday because I (again) felt like the crappiest mom ever (the solids "thing" was brought up again and I was told that my child was still hungry after he'd eaten all the food I'd sent ... blah, blah, blah). I won't mention how Chris and I had a fight about how crappy I felt and how, as a Dad, there was NO WAY he could possibly understand how I felt as a Mom. I won't discuss the gut-wrenching feeling that overcame me, when, in a fit of mom-sanity, I tore through my What To Expect The First Year book and realized that my son should've been feeding himself a cracker, oh, um, 5 freakin' months ago!!! And, I won't dare go into the guilt-ridden, type-A, we-will-overcome-this-setback-this-weekend shopping spree that didn't end until I'd loaded a cart with more than $100 in baby-friendly finger foods (oh, and a ball for funzies!).

Now that I've outlined everything I won't talk about, here's what I will ... this weekend Cooper and I both triumphed! He, after much protesting, gagging, coughing, nasty faces and one heinous puke session, is now, happy to munch on crackers, cereal chunks, bananas, Stage 3 foods, yadda, yadda, yadda. And I, after pushing through the protesting, gagging, coughing, nasty faces and one heinous puke session, am happily serving my little guy all the foods he should've been eating all along, without being poised in the ready-to-administer CPR position should Coop start choking (AGAIN!).

I've realized that Cooper is not as little, and certainly not as fragile or delicate, as I previously believed him to be. He's a big boy, ready to tackle big things. And now that I've learned that an awful fate will not be found in the likes of every finger food that crosses his lips, I'm thrilled to let him tackle on. In fact, he hit a major milestone at lunch out today ... one that brought a tear (OK, several!) to my eye. The waiter asked if the "child" (um, what happened to "baby"???) would like something to drink. He brought Coop some milk. In a big kid cup. With a straw. And with daddy's help, he downed that milk. THROUGH THE STRAW!! A week ago he couldn't figure out which end was up on his sippy cup!

Before I know he'll be ready for steak and a glass of wine.

growing pains

Coop is growing. And I’m in pain. Sigh.

Over Easter, Coop made the transition from car seat-in-the-stroller rider, to big-boy-in-the-stroller (sans car seat) rider. That was a big adjustment for me. I felt completely out-of-sync not having his little face staring up at me as it had during every other trip to the mall, store, park during the 10 months leading up to this fateful day.

It sent shocks to my heart when shoppers would walk by and say, “Aww, such a peaceful sleeper.” Huh? What? He’s asleep!!?? We walk and I wonder what he’s doing, what he’s checking out. I glance longingly at the newer newbie parents with their tiny bundles still tucked sweetly in their sights and wish to have those days back.

Then, another milestone. We lowered Cooper’s baby bed. He was starting to get scary-wild in his movements … he was doing flips and turns and I knew it was only a matter of minutes before he catapulted straight over the side of the bed. So, Chris lowered the bed to the next level. The next level doesn’t even look like a baby bed. It looks like a cage! A big boy bed with bars. I HATE it! We took the bumpers off, but now that he loves to stick his legs through the slots (and get his chunky monkey thighs stuck), I’m thinking they need to go back on … they will help keep him from becoming permanently affixed to the railing AND give this mommy some semblance of a baby bed back. It’s a win-win, right?

I am sooo thrilled with the amazing little man Coop is growing into, I just wish my heart could keep up with his pace. Thankfully, for now, he still wants to hug and cuddle and fall asleep together and that helps my heart better-handle the other stuff. The growing stuff. The big boy stuff.

s(no)w baby

Can inclement weather be a milestone in your little one's life? How about in a new mommy's life?

In my off-beat universe the answer is a resounding hecka yeah!

Since I was little, I have been obsessed with snow (probably because its appearance is as rare as finding that most-coveted round-toe wedge in MY size at the 75% off sale rack in Nordstrom!).

Anywhoo, last winter when I was preggars with Coop, it seemed like ice and snow came and went weekly and I loved every minute of it. I secretly counted down the days until I could share the love of the fluff with him in my arms, rather than in my belly.

My first chance came (and went) on Monday with no commemoration, no celebration, no pomp and circumstance. The little guy petered out hours before the snow started falling and the hubby threatened me with a month-long, solo stint on diaper duty if I woke the baby for pics.

I pouted. But you know what they say, "NEVER wake a sleeping baby."

Poo.

Well, when the blizzard blew in this afternoon, there was SNOW WAY in HELL (yes, I really just wrote that!) I was gonna' let Coop miss it.

I was like a kid again as I excitedly, feverishly constructed a little eskimo joe snow fort for Coop to pose in for pics. I couldn't wait to see the flakes gather gently atop his cheeks and eyelashes. I was breathless at the thought of seeing him pound the drifts with his tiny palms.

Chris and I got him all bundled up, took him in the frozen air and ...

nuthin'! No excitement, no joy, no fits of jubilant laughter.

Just a fussy baby freezin' his ass off.

Even the pics are slow-motion lame (except for the side shot of Coop - that one's a keeper).

This year I didn't snag those precious snow baby moments I'd been dreaming of ... (note to self: he's only 9 months old!!), but I do have years and years of snow balling, fort building, drift pounding moments to look forward to.

And those thoughts will always keep me warm.

p.s. The too-short snow fort? Mine. The too-cute snowmen? Built by the neighbors.

Sittin' Up and Takin' Notice

"We've" been practing "our" sittin' up skills for quite awhile, but on Monday - the day Coop hit 9 months - was the first sit on record that lasted longer than 5.6 seconds. Who-hoo!!!

He's actually progressed into minutes ... providing, of course, that he's in the mood to sit on his own. Otherwise, he flops back like a fish outta' water.

bite me

Concerned that my little roly poly wasn't progressing in his crawling, sitting up, holding his own bottle business, I grabbed my much-loved copy of What to Expect the First Year to make sure I shouldn't be freaking.

After all of the "babies progress at different stages ... blah diddy blah diddy blah" mumbo jumbo, I stumbled across a feat I hadn't even thought of:

Baby Should Be Able to Feed Himself a Cracker

Huh? When did we get to upgrade to human food???

Well, the book said give it a go. So we did.

I grabbed the box of biter biscuits I'd had stashed for just such an occassion (even though it says for 10 months and up), propped Coop in his bumbo chair, grabbed the camera and prepared to snap away happily while he went at it.

And boy did he.

Despite the fact that he'd just downed a dinner of apple-enhanced oatmeal and a purple-hued assortment of bannanas and berries, that chow hound went to town.

In under 5 minutes he was an ooey, gooey disgusting mess and had managed to whittle that little biter down a slimey nub.

Then all hell broke loose.

The two-teethed tot decided to be an overachiever. Bored by simply drool-melting the biscuit, Coop decided to bite it ... and the chunk went straight to the back of his throat.

And stayed there.

"Honey, do something!" Chris hollared FROM THE COUCH (umm, hello, GET UP!).

Coop was choking, Dad was freaking and I silently prayed I wouldn't have to recall what I learned in infant CPR over 9 months ago (think I need a refresher before we dive back into solids!).

I stuck my index finger in his mouth, fished out the offending biscuit bite and peace was restored.

For about 5.6 seconds.

I don't know if it was all the excitement from choking, the taste of the new food or the fact that it looked like the NY Giants were gonna' win the Super Bowl, but that little turkey puked.

Projectile.

Everywhere.

It looked like Coop had eaten Barney and now that damn dinosaur wanted back out!

"Honey, do something, he's throwing up!" Chris called again from the couch (um, no shit sherlock!)

Little tears pooled at the corner of Coop's eyes and he looked so sad. It broke my mommy heart. (damn book!).

"Start the bath water," I told the now off-the-couch Chris as I gathered my puke-covered babe.

"The mess is alllll yours." (Teach you to tell me to "do something.")

By the time Coop was stripped (and me, too ... it's impossible to carry and then disobe a squirming tot and not get covered in the goo!) and in the tub, my happy baby was back. YAY!

While I could tell Coop LOVED the biter biscuits, I think he secretly wanted payback for the near-death-cum-vomit escapade. Bedtime is usually between 6:30-7.

Tonight? After 6 trips back-and-forth to bed (and several screaming fits), Coop finally called it a night around 9:15.

I promise babe, only regergetated goo from now on (well, at least until you have more teeth).

All I Want

... for Christmas are my Two Front Teeth!

Coop, as evidenced by the yucky rash on his lil' chin, has been drooling like c-r-a-z-y. Just in time for Christmas, my little guy has cut not one, but two tiny little chompers. And, just ask his Mimi, he already knows how to use them - yowzer! That's gonna' leave a mark, lol.



Coop is all smiles as Mom comes in for a close-up of those pearly whites.



"Ha! Ha! Mama, I blocked you." =)



Yes, success! Photographic proof of the new teeth with no bite marks in sight. Aww, it is a Merry Christmas. =)

-smell you later-
Coop's Mom (aka Tessa)

Bulldogs & Horses & Cows, Oh My!

This past weekend was a big one for Coop. He had his first experience with Friday Night Lights as our high school alma mater, the Wylie Bulldogs, creamed the Decatur Eagles in a playoff game 46-16. I was afraid the boisterous crowd and the ridiculous amount of noise makers (a la beans in empty milk jugs) was going to scare the poop outta’ him (or leave him with a hearing impairment), but he was great! Looking back now, I should’ve been more worried about him getting whip lash from swiveling his head so much to take it all in. =)

After the game, we headed to Stapp Ranch to spend the weekend with our BFFs, the Stephenson’s, and their buddies, the Hanna’s. And what a weekend it was! Cooper has been outside the city limits for all of about 5 minutes (for his Aunt Amy’s wedding); so being in the wide-open range in the middle of West Texas nowhere was a total treat — for all of us. Living in the metroplex and constantly stuck in traffic and on the go, you forget how blissfully peaceful and rejuvenating the country quiet can be.

We spent Saturday morning (6 parents, 4 kiddos and a baby) down by the creek, skipping rocks, basking in the sun … skinny dipping (OK, so that was the three-pack of dirt-loving boys ages 3-8 in their underoos. Coop and I missed the swim session because it was nap time, but the pics are too precious … this time next year Cooper will undoubtedly be right there with them digging in the mud and catching froggies with his bare hands!). The lazy afternoon gave way to a beautiful evening. We took Cooper on a walk through the field where he saw his first moo cow, pet his first horse and saw Mommy step in her first pile of poo … in flip flops no less — niiiice! Then 8-year-old Taylor took us for a spin around the pond on the ranger (a rigged-out all-terrain go-cart type of thingy). Her lead foot had me fearing for our lives as we turned the corner of a steep(ish) elevation that I swear was all of about 2-feet-wide. But, rest easy, Tay Tay, always the little adult, rocked the ranger and we enjoyed the view of the setting sun reflecting off the water. As darkness fell (yes, the verbiage is all countrified, lol) the manly trio of men took to the grill, cooking up stuffed jalapenos and steaks atop an open flame. Coop even dined al fresco, noshing (and ultimately spitting up) a concoction of water-down carrots. Yum.

In the morning as we were packing up, I decided that 58 pictures was just not enough for one weekend and had to have that 59th. Oops! Coop had his first brush with “8 Seconds.” I wanted a pic of Cooper sitting atop this ceramic roping steer and Brock, the most precious 3-year-old you’ll ever see, wanted to join. And then Taylor wanted in on the action, too. So, there they were, Taylor, Brock and Cooper, posing for what I hoped would be one of the cutest pics ever when, whoops. Just after I clicked and was readying myself for a second shot because Brock and Coop’s eyes were closed (of course!), hands let go and the baby went boom. The world went into slow motion as I watched my little guy slip from atop the cow straight to the ground, landing with a heavy thud. Thankfully, he’s bottom-heavy and landed on his diapered behind and completely missed bonking his head. So all was well, just a little scare — more for me than for him (guess you have to get that first oops outta’ the way some time, lol). Chris and I have now decided that Coop can cross bull riding off his list of career aspirations — that baby just can’t hang. =)

>

-smell you later-
Coop’s Mom (aka Tessa)

good times

There are those days as a mom when you feel you’re going out of your ever beloved mind. You know, like when the baby won’t stop screaming, he pees every time you take the diaper off, he won’t eat, sleep, play nice and you’re convinced that you’re just not cut from the right mommy cloth.

But, then there are days like today when motherhood is effortless, beautiful, where you are so blissed out by the joy your baby brings that you think you’ll go out of your ever beloved mind trying to soak in every second.

Coop has been in rare form. From the moment he woke up this AM to the time I tucked him in he was giggling and cooing and squealing in delight. And all of this verbal fun was punctuated by several peaceful naps (which means I snuck in several peaceful naps – whoo-hoo).

Bonus??? Coop rolled over. He rolled over. He rolled over. Yes, this is a feat he accomplished several weeks ago (see “The Rollover Kid” for back story), but has yet to replicate. But this evening, during our nightly blanket bonding, I rolled him onto his tummy and he flipped back on his own, over and over again, squealing all the while. It was so awesome.

Most Sunday nights I get pretty bummed because Monday means my 24/7, all-you-can-get Coop buffet is over. I love being a working mom, but I hate the all-too-quick 2-3 hours a night I get with my little guy. I miss him so much while at work that I visit my blog several times a day just to see his precious face, to watch his videos, to remember what it is I’m working for.

Tonight, however, there are no blues-worthy feelings, just a rockin’ natural high that only one’s own baby can bring.

-smell you later-
Coop’s Mom (aka Tessa)

Coop chats up a storm.



Look out world, Coop's on the "move." =)