But it gave me a chance to use the word neophyte

So we moved Little Baby Henry into his new convertible carseat this week.  We probably could have done it sooner (although he's not over the weight limit for the seat and had a smidge left on the height) but the pull of the convenience of the bucket carrier for car-to-house naps was a little too strong.

I keep telling Paul that Henry looks so little in his big seat!

Yesterday afternoon, the hum of the open road (or ABQ city streets as we ran a couple of errands) and the comfy new seat were too much to resist and the backseat went quiet.  We were about 10 minutes from the house and as Henry is not easily transferable for naps, I wanted to give him just a little more sleepy time.  To the car wash we went since my car desperately needed it.

There was another car in the automatic wash bay and it was showing that she was on the final rinse cycle so I opted to wait.  The blowers came on and the driver eased forward just a bit but not enough that her back tires were off the little thing you drive up on to position the car in the bay.  The dryer did its thing and she still sat there.  Because she'd not moved during the dryer cycle, I'm assuming the mechanisms thought the next car had entered the bay.  As the driver started forward, the "Reverse" light started flashing.  So she did.  And sat there.  For what seemed like forever but was probably just a minute or two.  The "Go" light in the bay wasn't illuminated but it was for me outside the bay.  And so, she sat.  She tried going forward again and again, the "Reverse" light illuminated.  So she did.  And sat there.

At this point, I'm trying to figure out what to do to help this poor clueless car wash neophyte.  A car had pulled in behind me but left when the other driver reversed the first time.  I think she saw the writing on the wall.  I'd already paid for my wash so I wasn't leaving.  I had a sleeping Henry in the backseat so I didn't really want to leave to find the attendant to help the driver.  I debated getting out and running up to her car to explain what was going on.  I honestly had enough time for all these thoughts to go through my head several times because we were still sitting there for a good minute before I did the only thing I could decide to do.

I honked.

And still we sat.  I debated honking a little more forcefully because my first honk had been the polite beep you do to get someone's attention at a light or the car wash bay as the case may be.  After a little bit of hesitation on her part, she successfully cleared the car wash bay, finally ignoring the light and allowing me to enter and get my own car cleaned.  (I can just imagine her telling whomever about her crazy experience at the car wash and how it had her trapped.)

Unfortunately, the extra minutes we had to wait to start the car wash ended up being Henry's undoing.  He's not a good napper--he will catnap throughout the day, generally taking 3 or 4 thirty minute naps.  We think we're doing great if he sleeps 45 minutes and are over the moon at hour-long naps.  (Don't even get me started on the joy of a recent 2-hour nap.)  This was one of his catnaps and as it was already 20 minutes into the nap by the time we got to the car wash so during one of the final cycles, Henry woke up.  And the spraying and the bubbles and the noise scared the bejeebus out of him.  I was trapped in the car with sweet Henry securely strapped into his new car seat and having a screaming fit.  One of my finer parenting moments of the past 7 months.  Thankfully, I know to pull forward when the dryer starts and we got out of the scary car wash and headed home to finish out the afternoon with a 45 minute nap.  Apparently the trauma of the car wash was good for some extra nap time.

Confusing little clothing

On Wednesday evening, Paul and I were discussing the plans for the next day.  Paul was dropping Henry off earlier than usual because of a meeting and as we were talking through the logistics, I mentioned that as it is getting colder, I'd included some socks with Henry's little outfit for the next day.  Paul asked if there was anything special, or confusing, about these socks.  Um, no.  Just a pair of socks.  And then I remembered why he was asking.

One of the first times Paul had Henry solo was in early April.  Henry was about five weeks old at the time and I had a dental appointment.  I knew I'd be gone only about an hour total and while I was willing to take the baby along that morning (and the dentist and dental assistants were all disappointed I didn't bring him), Paul said he would stay home for a bit extra so I could go alone.

Just as I was sitting down in the dental chair, I had a phone call from Paul.  Henry was pretty congested around this time and was spitting up what seemed like bucketfuls.  He had spit up all over whatever little outfit I'd left him wearing, including his socks, and Paul was wondering where more clothes might be.  We had a quick discussion of possible wardrobe changes and things were good.  So I thought.

When I got home, I met an obviously frustrated Paul.  He was trying to bottle feed a baby who didn't really like bottles at the time.  Said baby was wearing a sleep sack because Henry was fussing about the onesie coming off and that was the easiest thing Paul found to dress him in.  I sympathized.  And then I laughed because I saw the socks.  Most of the little 0-3 month socks we had were the kind that the tops fold over and many of the socks had little puppy dogs or paw print decorations on the outside of the folded over part.  Paul didn't understand this (and understandably, as most boy socks don't do this) so he had turned the socks inside out and put them on Henry.  He'd not pulled the socks all the way up because he knew the little decorations were supposed to only be at the ankle.  Then the socks were too long so the foot part of the sock was just flapping around, not actually on Henry's foot.  Apparently it was a rough hour for Daddy.  But it made for a great story that we could laugh about not that much later.  (And Paul, and Henry, are both better with clothes and bottles these days).

so Blogger went crazy

Thanks to my friend Ruta (hi, Ruta!), I was made aware that apparently Blogger thinks I have news. I have no news of any sort to announce so if you read the post "Week 23" and were thinking to yourself that, man, those babies would be close, take heart in knowing that there isn't a Baby #2 in the works. Not now perhaps not ever. I was reading old posts recently and I guess I hit something I shouldn't have. But um yeah. I am not 23 weeks pregnant. Holy cow, if I was, Henry and #2 would be less than 11 months apart. That would be impressive.

Week 23

Last week when I had my OB appointment, I asked about receiving the H1N1 shot. I had been debating as to whether or not I would even get the shot--this was the first year I've ever gotten the seasonal flu shot and I didn't even want to do that much (Paul has gotten one in years past). Because of the shortage, I hadn't done much to even try to locate a place to receive the vaccine. The doctor gave me the number of one of the county public health department locations where he knew vaccines would be delivered soon and I was able to get on a waiting list for the vaccine.

I had a phone call earlier this week to set up an appointment for myself. I threw Paul in just for good measure. He's more susceptible to getting whatever comes down the pike than I have ever been and even when we both get sick, he (honestly) gets it much worse than I do.

Our appointment was yesterday afternoon. Yesterday's appointments were primarily the OB patients so it was a parade of the pregnant and our families. The wait was minimal and we were rewarded with suckers for our troubles. I'm a little bummed that I didn't buy the "Got Condoms?" shirt that was on sale. Oh the irony of wearing that as a maternity top.

I'm glad such locations exist but it is definitely a different world than the one we normally inhabit. Paul was convinced everyone was looking at us. I don't think so but he says they were--because he was watching them watching us (and how boring that must have been because we aren't that interesting). I was slightly irritated at the lady giving us the shot when she looked at our paperwork and saw that we have private insurance. She made a comment about using them instead or some such thing. Yeah, we do have private insurance and a primary care physician and a list of specialists we've conveniently seen. But gosh darn it, I'm five months pregnant. Why can't I use the county's public health department if that is the first location with the vaccine available? It's a free service provided to the citizens of Bernalillo County of which I am one.

Henry's (finally finished) room

For most of my pregnancy, I said we would deal with the baby's room starting in January.  Get through the little remodel project (where I last left off this place) and the holidays and then conquer that chaos.  What is now Henry's room spent the first five years as Paul's office until we remodeled and then it became a guest room/catch-all/overflow from Paul's office.  I didn't realize how much treasures Paul had stored in the closet.

It was quite an undertaking and the room wasn't quite cleaned out before Henry made his appearance. My mom came for a visit in late January to be at my baby shower and to do some little projects in the baby's room.  We installed a custom closet system and she thankfully volunteered to paint the nursery.  I loved the color of what had been the guest room.  It was an aqua blue but we repainted to a yellowy color after the remodel so it would better flow with the living room since it now opens up to that room.  I didn't select the same aqua color for Henry's room but a couple of shades lighter (and love it just the same).  Henry dropped when I was about 38 weeks pregnant and was sitting on my left hip, making walking pretty painful.    I'd gotten most of the furniture put together (it's almost all IKEA) but was having issues with the crib's bottom slats.  Paul's parents came over the weekend before Henry was born and helped finish the crib as well some other odds and ends projects around the house.  I spent the last two weeks before Henry was born doing a few little things that could be accomplished while crawling or walking as little as possible (making up the crib, folding/putting away clothes, etc).   Paul scoffed and told me to stop but was grateful when, during the first week after Henry was born, he commented to my mom that he really needed a burp cloth, pulled out a little basket and voila!  Burp clothes! Of course, I should have been packing a suitcase but that's a story for another time. . . .

When Henry started rolling a couple of months ago, Paul realized he had to get the rest of his stuff out of the room since there were cords and wires and other interesting things for babies.  That got me inspired to finally complete Henry's room. 

Looking in from the bedroom door.  The window faces east so Henry has a great view of the mountains.

Happy boy in his jumparoo.  I love the ABC print and the mirrors.  When Henry's outgrown the jumparoo, I hope to make this a little play area with a table and chairs.

Buckets with toys and books under the window--I'd intended to use brown as an accent color but found these at Target.  They were what I was wanting just in a different color.  And the more I look at them, the more I like the green accents in here.  And we don't call them polka dots but lizard spots (thanks, Paul).

I didn't know if I wanted a glider originally.  Henry slept in the bassinette in our room for the first two months and when we moved him into his bedroom, we put the small recliner from our bedroom in here as well.  Turns out,  Henry likes to rock/glide so we purchased this a couple of months ago.

Gratuitous picture of Jubjub

The crib and the prints from Henry's 1-month photo shoot.  I finally settled on the quote over his crib when I saw it was from Shakespeare's Henry VIII.   Putting it up was another project I saved for my mom to help with.

I made the pillow covers.  Sewing is a skill I don't let many people know I can do (it's not a favorite thing but I do enjoy it from time to time).  I also tailored the valance, joining two panels into one.  A friend made the stick horse that I purchased last December at a holiday fair because I knew it would coordinate with the bedding (and it is really cute and its name is Charger).

Henry's already well-stocked bookcase. :)  The giraffe print was one I purchased years ago and was one I knew I wanted to hang in the nursery.  We used the animals/polka dots bedding because of this print.

The changing station and dresser.  Burp clothes are in the basket on the left. :)

Vignette shot because I was getting arty while taking these pictures.

Another arty shot.  The picture of Henry and Paul was taken in the hospital when Henry was about 24 hours old.  Melts my heart every time I look at it.

We think he likes his room as well.

So six months after he made his appearance, that is Henry's finally finished room that will, of course, never actually be finished as it will grow and change with him.  It isn't quite what I'd first envisioned when I started thinking of how I wanted the nursery--I was considering a mural or polka dots on the wall and different artwork.  None of that happened and that's OK.  While it's not as fancy as originally planned, both Paul and I have found ourselves sitting in there just enjoying what a happy little room it is.

My first encounter with the crazy

I guess I should consider myself lucky in that in the just-over seven months of Henry's life, I've not really gotten unsolicited advice from well-meaning strangers.  I had some when I was pregnant but even then, not much.  Perhaps I put off a vibe.  This morning, I wish that vibe had been a little stronger because this morning, crazy lady in the grocery store decided she knew exactly how I needed to be raising my son. 

I knew this week's grocery trip was going to be a quick one so I took Henry with me when I went about 8:30.  If it's a going to be a more-involved trip, Henry stays home with his dad.  It was mostly empty in the store and we were able to complete our list quickly.  The checker was one whose line I'll frequently seek out--she's friendly but professional, just chatty enough, and she loves babies.  She and the bagger both gooed at Henry who obliged by smiling and gooing back at them.  As I was walking out, crazy lady came rushing over to tell me how cute Henry is and commented that he looks Irish.  I thanked her and said something about Irish being in there.  She then said something about how he looks like me and I look Irish.  I mumbled something again about there being Irish in there somewhere and Henry looking like his dad, thanked her for complementing Henry, smiled and tried to walk by her. 

Not happening.  She started in on how people have all kinds of crazy ideas about babies these days.  For some reason, and I'm still not sure how, the topic of feeding came up.  I laughed that we'd postponed solids mostly out of fear of the diapers and she apparently didn't get the joke just reiterated how people have crazy ideas about babies and she had food at 6 weeks and was fine.  Do we at least feed him cereal?  Does he like his cereal?  I answered yes, he loves oatmeal.  She said, "But what about cereal?"  Um, oatmeal *is* cereal.  I then had to hear how "they" would put it in bottles and cut off the nipple and give to children and I should try that.  Uh, he doesn't really do bottles.  Oh, you were able to breast feed (thank goodness that conversation ended there--would hated to have delved further into that topic with the crazy).  Does he eat?  Yes, he loves most whatever we shove at him.  What was his reaction to ice cream?  We've only been giving him food for a month; he's not had ice cream.  People and their crazy ideas about babies!  It's the doctors you know. They don't want to deal with sick babies. 

Mind you, this whole time, I'm trying to walk out the door.  Freedom was a mere 10 feet away and I couldn't make it.  OH!  And then she said, "No, no dear" and patted his hand as Henry was trying to eat the end of the strap on his little grocery cart seat cover.  I swatted at her hand and said to Henry it was OK.  Seriously.

By now, I'd at last made it to the door of the store and she's following me and prattling on about something while I'm mindlessly uh-huhing and grateful I chose a close parking spot.  She asked his name and responded that it was such a good American name!  And the rest of it?  Mac.  Didn't get any response to that because by now I was standing by my car (she was actually between me and the Subie).  She said something else but by now, my brain and all politeness had shut off.  She thankfully figured out that this was my car without me saying anything and wandered off into the parking lot.

I'm truly grateful Henry was in his usual cheerful mood.  I can only imagine what kind of advice I would have gotten had he been fussy.