Thanksgiving (in redux).

Some people don't update their blog because they're very, very busy.  I don't really have an excuse, so rather than bore you with non-excuses, I'll jump right in on a long-procrastinated account of Colin's comings-and-goings.

We spent Thanksgiving in Portland with Brad's family.  Colin filled his time thusly:

Visiting friends.  This is Colin's friend, Scottie Worth.  Scottie asked Colin to stay at his house and sleep in his "down bed" (lower bunk).  Scottie seemed really into the idea till he held Colin. Once he got a feel for how much Baby Colin weighed, he retracted his offer to be roommates.  

Going on doggie-back rides.  This wild beast belongs to Colin's Uncle Rob and Aunt Carla.  The ride was short-lived.  It ended as soon as Dori (the dog) got distracted by some of Colin's cousins.

Playing with his grandmother.  This pop-up toy (from the 70s) was such a hit, we came home and bought him the 2008 version, which is surprisingly not different.

Being cute.

Playing with his Uncle Kent and Aunt Amy.

And learning to play the piano.

Not on the list: sleeping.  At least, not till the very end of the trip.  While the family met for a very long, very noisy birthday lunch for Brad, Colin did this:

Mug Shot.

Here's Colin's most recent mug shot.  Enough said.

The Ultimate in Color Coordination.

This is a shout-out to Anne, who got Colin* this nifty little get-up.  Here's what great about this outfit:

1. It's adorable.  I mean, just look at it.

2. Anne had the good sense to get a 5-month-old baby an outfit for a 9-to-12-month-old child.  She must have read up on Colin's most recent weigh-in.

3. Although Anne has never seen our house, our new couch, or the throw pillows purchased to match the new couch, the outfit she bought is the ultimate in color coordination.  Throw in Colin, and you've got a splendid package.

* For those interested, Colin is looking at the TV.  Specifically, he's watching "Gilmore Girls."  He and I did so much watching of Gilmore Girls while I was on maternity leave that he knows Lorelai (Lauren Graham)'s voice and watches her intently.  The boy's got taste.

Photofunia.

I finally found displays worthy of Colin's cuteness.

A billboard:

A museum installation:

His own community-access channel:

(My thanks to www.photofunia.com for jumpstarting Colin's modeling career.)

What Statistics Really Mean.

Colin had his four-month check up on Friday.  

I've never fooled myself.  I know Colin is big.  Like, really big.  I think this because strangers on the street will stop us and say things like, "Wow, he's big. Like, really big." 

But on Friday, I found out exactly how big.  He is 26 1/4" long and 19.2 pounds.  That's the 89% and the 96%, respectively.  I took it in stride at the moment.  "Sure," I thought.  "Ninety-sixth percentile.  Who isn't?"  But then I got home and realized exactly who isn't: 99 people in 100 aren't in the 96th percentile.  And then I got to thinking about what those statistics really mean.

If there were 100 babies in a room (and let's be honest: that's a lot of babies), and someone patiently lined up all 100 babies in descending order of weight, Colin would be the fourth baby to be lined up.   The fourth!   He'll fall asleep waiting for the other 96 babies to be organized. And by the time the job's done, he'll be ready for snack.

If you're the 4th-heaviest baby in the room (or, if it makes you feel better, the 96th-lightest), raise your hand!

Shout-out.

This entry serves as a shout-out to Maren, who bought Colin this totally rockin' Nike leisure suit.

In addition to being super cute, the outfit is functional, too. See, Colin is commonly mistaken for a girl* and, despite Serena Williams' lucrative endorsement deal, nothing says "boy" like Nike.

* Brad thinks that it only happens if the person asking has a daughter.  I think it's more widespread.  I think it happens because Colin is super-naturally pretty.  

The Music Man.

Colin's been standing more and more, and we thought he'd dig being in a standing position while playing.  So,  Brad and I took the plunge and bought him an exer-saucer.  The exer-saucer we bought has a music-playing, push-button (for lack of a better word) device.  It has five buttons, all with an animal's picture on it.  The first time you hit a button, it mimics the sound the animal makes.  The second hit gives you the name of the animal in English.  The third - the animal's name in Spanish.  On the fourth, it plays classical music (or totally non-classical music made to sound classical, in the case of the cow playing "Old McDonald Had a Farm"). 

Colin has loved music since he was born, and he's a huge fan of not the exer-saucer as a whole, and not that particular device, but that particular device while playing music.  When music is playing, he's happy as a clam.

When music isn't playing, this happens.

After getting sad enough often enough, Colin is now expert at slapping the button three times really fast, all while grimacing.  After the fourth hit, when the music starts, he's super-psyched. (He has yet to play with any of the other toys.)

"Jeans" is a dirty word.

On Saturday, my mom went back to Las Vegas. While she's gone, she left her cold behind. On Sunday, Colin went from a blissfully sweet baby boy to a total fuss-budget. He fussed and squirmed his way through Sunday and Sunday night, and, on Monday, when I ought to have been dropping him at a friend's house (our nanny was out of town), I decided to call in and work from home. If Colin was that fussy for me, there's no way he'd be keen on being at a strange house with someone that he's only met 15 times.*

* Colin is a like a short-term amnesia patient. He's "met" Jenn 15 times, every Sunday of his life. But his memory is so short that every Sunday is like meeting her for the first time.

Colin ended up doing better for most of the day. Until Monday night. He fell asleep on the couch next to me, so I picked him up and plunked him in bed. Usually, mid-sleep, he'll wake up, squirm, stretch, grunt, and go back to sleep. After twenty minutes or so, he woke up, squirmed, stretched, grunted, and then began to cry. And cry. And cry some more. He might have doubled his lifetime crying total in one night.** He was nearly hysterical for about 15 minutes, and I was totally befuddled. It wasn't his hungry cry, not his diaper cry, not his gassy cry, nothing. It was a new brand of hysterical crying. As a last ditch effort, I laid him down on the changing table to see if it was his diaper. As soon as I took off his jeans, he stopped crying. Like, the instant the jeans slipped off his legs, he stopped. Not only stopped crying, but started smiling. All that fuss over sleeping in jeans? Brad said that any kid would fuss over sleeping in jeans, but he fell asleep in them, so how bad could they be? And stayed asleep for a while before he decided they were (apparently) crazy uncomfortable. I have decided that it wasn't the discomfort, but the color. Colin's an observant kid, and I think he decided that he doesn't like the lighter rinse jeans. "It's 2008!" he's screaming at me. "Get me some dark rinse jeans!"

** Colin, being the easy kid he is, had probably only cried for two hours total prior to this incident. So, sure, I exaggerated a bit, but not by much.

Trying to see the silver lining in all this, I decided that we must be good parents because I have never heard Colin cry like that over his honest necessities - he's never been so deliriously hungry that he cried like that. He's never been so soaking wet that his diaper doubled his body weight. So, for Colin, the only thing worth truly crying over is jeans. His life must be pretty good.

Colin's Big Weekend.

Colin got blessed at church this weekend. It was a big to-do, with family up from Las Vegas and from Portland. Here's a recap of his big day.

He woke up, and he was a little nervous.

But then he had something to eat. While his hand was his first choice, he eventually settled on milk.

Then, he spat it up.

So he did some exercises to get his mind off things.

Turns out, it was nothing to be nervous about. Brad did a lovely job, and Colin had a great time, and they both looked great while doing it!

The Sweater Post.

For those who know me well, you know my unending appreciation of sweaters, especially cardigans. I am pleased to announce that Colin has inherited my love of fine knits and is the proud owner of many a sweater. This one, though, deserves special note.

It's not just that he looks dapper in it, but that's a nice perk. This sweater is special because it's Colin's first custom-made article of clothing. Some people never get a custom-made piece of clothing. Others may have to wait years. But not Colin. He only had to wait three months.

One of Brad's patients* made this sweater for Colin, and we're really grateful. From yarn selection to the buttons, it was all chosen especially for him. It's a great memory for us, and a great sweater for Colin. Many thanks!

* Names have been changed to protect the innocent. And by "innocent," I mean Brad. No HIPAA violations here!

Lucky 13.

This was an especially good week to be Colin's mom. I got to watch him be this cute all week.

Colin: Big and Small

Occasionally, I see a photo like this one

and I think was a sweet, tiny, delicate bundle Colin is.

Then I see a photo like this one

and I change my mind. Still sweet; not tiny.

Twins.

When I was first pregnant with Colin, Brad said he wanted it to be twins.  While the thought of a two-for-the-price-of-one pregnancy was somewhat appealing, buying two of each baby item wasn't.  So, I, for one, was grateful for a single baby.  However, Brad's hankering for twins must not have gone away because, when I got home on Thursday night, this was waiting for me:

Beyond realizing that Colin has clearly outgrown his three-month onesies, we took another lesson from all this: with the plunging neckline, Colin looks like he's on his way to ballet lessons.  Maybe I'll get a prodigiously talented son after all.

Acting Casual.

We couldn't decide on just one caption for this photo, so we present:

a) Colin's first attempt to get close to a girl. Not Amber, but the 29-week-old one just under Colin's elbow.

b) Colin's entry for an "Acting Casual" contest.

c) "So, guys... what's up? You like stripes?"

A Week-by-Week Guide to Colin

Since Colin was already 9 weeks old when we started his blog and because I was totally remiss in posting during the last couple of weeks, we have decided to play a game of catch-up. Following is some of what you've missed by not living with Colin during the last 12 weeks.

Newborn: calm, quiet, and peaceful.

1 week old: Colin's first photo shoot. He slept through the entire thing and still wound up looking cuter than 99% of people.

2 weeks old: Colin meets his JoJo. While she was here, I spent my first time away from him. I was gone for four hours; he slept for three hours and forty-eight minutes of it. According to my mom, his first twelve minutes away from me were successful.

3 weeks old: He’s enjoying his time at home. He is calm and quiet. We go on walks nearly every day; he generally falls asleep on his dad’s chest each night. They fill each other’s cuddliness.

4 weeks old: Colin tried to smile all week but didn't quite get it. Watching him practice was hilarious. Having met Grandma Gini when he was only a few days old, he also met his Grandpa Dave, aunts, uncles, and cousins in Portland.

5 weeks old: Colin smiles for the first time. But not for the camera. The boy's got opinions about cameras.

6 weeks old: Attends the Evergreen State Fair. While there, he watched 6-week-old pigs race. They've already been trained to run around a track for their food; Colin can barely see 18” in front of him. After the fair, he gets his first taste of ice cream when I get a drop of ice cream on his pacifier. He didn’t exactly say so, but he seems to like it. He also caught sight of the Team USA v. Argentina basketball game during the Summer Olympics and couldn’t take his eyes off the screen (we think he’s a Chris Paul fan). Last, despite many beautiful homemade and store-bought blankets that are fine candidates for a security blanket, Colin makes his official pick: a dishtowel.

7 weeks old: Colin takes his first bottle during sacrament meeting from a friend in the ward. He took to it like a champ. No questions asked, so long as there’s food. He also started coo-ing.

8 weeks old: He gets his first cold. He’s a trooper and suffers through it beautifully. We could only tell he was sick because of his runny nose and his Darth Vader-esque breathing while he ate. He also starts with the nanny while I go back to work.

9 weeks old: Begins using his “infant gym.” He learns cause-and-effect really quickly, figuring out how to make the music and lights go off by kicking. He owns that infant gym. He's also getting better and better with his hands. His motions are more controlled, and he’s able to grasp items that catch his interest. He’s also able to save his binky if it’s falling out of his mouth, though, usually, his uncoordinated swats are the reason the binky is falling out in the first place.

10 weeks old: The raspberries and the spit bubbles. Oh, the raspberries and the spit bubbles!

(thanks to Aunt Becki for this great photo)

11 weeks old: Colin gave projectile vomiting a try. After two days, he decided he didn’t like it anymore. He also gets his 2-month check-up. Official stats: 16.1 pounds (93% for weight) and 24 1/2 inches (79% for height).

12 weeks old: Despite his girth and his double-digit age, a Sunday afternoon walk is still enough to tire him out.  

Master Archer? Probably not.

Colin is a tremendously easy baby. He's so easy that we can tote him along on all our errands and to friends' houses, and he happily hangs-out, listening to what's going on and contributing with various coos, gurgles, snorts, and growls. After nearly 11 weeks like this, I was starting to think that, maybe, Colin was really something special. Not just special, but, like, really remarkable. Like maybe he'd talk especially early or discover a prodigous ability in math (... or music... or archery... anything) by age 3. He just seems so put together, how could he not? But then, this happened:

We spent Friday night hanging-out with our friends, Shawn and Andrea They have two kids, so Andrea has a stockpile of age-appropriate toys for C-Monkey. During one of Colin's more sage moments - in which he looked like he was lapping up all that was going on around him and filing it in some sort of impressive mental filing cabinet - Andrea hung this toy* from the handle of his car seat:

All contemplation was lost. Colin went berserk for that frog. He stared at it, enraptured, for at least three minutes. So, I take back my aspirational speculation that Colin might be a master archer at 3. Apparently, Colin's mental machinations are far more humble; they're more like, "That frog is off the hook!"

* Some facts have been changed for the ease of storytelling. Mostly, what changed was the type of animal. In reality, it was a striped blue tiger. But apparently, Bright Starts no longer makes the striped blue tiger clip-on friend. It was replaced by a (far less imaginative) green frog. So, really, Colin thinks that a blue tiger is off the hook. I wish I didn't have to resort to artistic license in only my fourth blog post, but I didn't have a camera handy to show the real toy, and I had to rely on finding what I could on the internet. If you have a complaint, I suggest you take it to Bright Starts.

Popeye.

I have been back to work - in either part-time or full-time capacity - for almost three weeks. For the first two weeks, my co-workers heckled me for not having any photos of Colin in my office. So, this week, to make amends, I brought in some of my favorite pictures.

It's worth noting that, while Colin is smiling now and has been for several weeks, he doesn't smile at just anything. His smiles are hard-earned. As a result, he isn't smiling in any of the pictures. He is, however, doing this:

I'm crazy about this picture. I think it's hilarious. However, in just one day, three of my co-workers (three!) said he looks like Popeye. I didn't know three people in one office could even remember what Popeye looks like - let alone, compare Colin's shrewd, discerning smirk to Popeye's whatever-he's-doing.*

* Apparently, there's some debate on this. Wikipedia says that early renditions of Popeye had him with only one good eye (he lost his right eye in "the mos' arful battle" of his life). Later, his right eyewas just squinty. Either way, Popeye isn't supposed to be a good-looking dude.

Clearly, I'm biased. And clearly, I'd rather think my son looks like Brad. Or me. Basically, anyone who isn't a one-eyed, 1950's cartoon character. Even with that disclosure, I don't see the similarity. But what do I know? I'm just his mom.

Colin.

Here is my reason for blogging. He's a pretty cool customer. His favorite past times include looking out the window (especially at trees), staring in the mirror (especially at himself), kicking (especially his mom, usually right in the stomach), and upper right cuts (especially his dad, usually as a way of waking him up in the morning).