This lapse in blogging is totally not acceptable but if running from hurricanes, ER visits and hospital stays aren't a big enough excuse, I apologize. August was rough. Too much travelling. Too many colds. We were evacuated from our yearly trip to Point O' Woods since Irene had her eye on Long Island. My flight with the children was cancelled and we were forced to drive 16 hours through the hurricane dodging flying debris and fallen trees on the highway. Don't mess with Mother Nature. Lesson learned. And to finish off our summer with a bang, Benham was rushed to the ER Labor Day weekend for acute abdominal pain. It was 8am and he was enjoying his exersaucer when he suddenly started screaming a scream that every mother knows IS NOT normal. His legs were pulled to his chest and he was inconsolable. Within a few minutes, he was feverish and lethargic. We suspected intussusception which could have been triggered by his viral cold, and spent the night without ever getting a definite diagnosis. By the time the abdominal ultrasound was done, the pain had resolved. Our little man is completely 100% back to normal and he's charging through this whole infanthood entirely way too quickly. He is ALL boy! He drools, he farts, he kicks, he punches and he's stolen his momma's heart.
He lights up when Maryn walks in the room.
Did I mention he's ALL boy? My sweet daughter sitting like a proper girl, knees closed reading a book, while my son eats paper.
But I am utterly, unabashedly in love with this beautiful child of mine, paper eating and all.
As cute as these faces are...I feel like I'm constantly cleaning and bathing little body parts. When Maryn was 5 months old, I typically bathed her every 2 to 3 days. She didn't spit up, she didn't drool and she was a neat eater. Bah...this boy requires daily baths. I mean, they're like totally two completely different creatures.
He's got a thing for mirrors.
He yells at you in between bites of baby food because what he really wants is a continuous straw infusion of pureed sweet potatoes. He can't eat fast enough. And at the end of his meal when I pull out his sippy cup, his eyes widen, his fists pump, his legs kick and he snatches it out of my hand. Quite frankly, I wouldn't mind a continuous straw infusion of a little Benham Austin.
Oh, and he found his feet this month.
And oh, he can sit up. Assisted.
Be back soon with a little more Mimi:) She's got her first school pictures tomorrow.
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