Five years old!  That is so grown up to me.  No more baby, no more toddler, no more little boy.  Samuel is 5!  I can still remember the excitement of waking up in the middle of the night to my water breaking.  I remember after the quick three hours of labor, the long 3 hours of pushing.  I remember how pleased I was when Erik smiled and told me, "Oh yeah, he has a lot of hair!"  I remember holding my sweet little baby in my arms, looking into his eyes, and saying, "This is Sam."  That was five years ago!  What a blessing this bright, clever, funny, tender-hearted boy has been to us since then.  Love you so very much, Samuel.  Happy birthday!!     

October 9, 2011

Oh this squishy little baby.  We love him so so much.  His tummy still hurts him, but not near as often or as bad; it's usually just for a bit before bedtime.  He has really good awake time, and will hang out quietly in the bouncer, swing, or playmat for good chunks of time.  His neck and back are getting very strong.  He holds himself up great.  He has found his fists and loves to devour them.  He drools.  He blows bubbles, and both of his older brothers think that's funny and worth pointing out every time they see it.  He coos and makes sweet noises if you're listening for it.  He has such a darling smile, and always has a big one for his daddy when he comes home.  If you're lucky, you might get to see his squinter, where his fat smiling cheeks make his eyes squint almost shut.  And ooooh those cheeks.  Mormor called them bulldog cheeks.  I could kiss and nuzzle them all day long.  There are still a few 0-3 month sized clothes he fits into, but just barely.  He slept in his own room last night.  It was time.  But still a little sad to let him go . . .  you know, clear to the other side of the hall.  He doesn't have a good nickname yet.  I'm working on it.  Sweet smooshy little Emmett M.

I went a little crazy with the pictures.  Then I couldn't bear to edit any out.

Two months stats: 12 lbs 15 oz (62%) and 23 inches (75%)

Samuel 2 months, Owen 2 months, Emmett 2 months.

Samuel

Owen

Emmett

I am often blown away with the things Owen says.  Sam had lots of things to say at this age, too, but O is quickly creeping up on him in the funny and clever categories.  It’s always amusing to hear things that Sam never learned to say, but O says because he’s learned them from his big brother.  Right now, it still just makes us hide our laughs when O shouts things like, Watch out!  Out of my way!!  Move it!  My turn now!  Hey, stop it!!  Yay, I did it! (sounds like I DEED eet!) and Oooh, what is it? (sounds like Wuh TIZ zit?)  Owen also knows names really well.  Sam didn’t even call me Mommy until he was almost 2, but O has been using Mom, Dad, and Sam for ages. 

But the other week, Owen said something worthy of the first official Owen Says documentation.  He and I were driving around running errands when we stopped at a light.  A man crossed the road in front of us.  He had on a really long trench coat.  He had shoulder length hair and a pretty thick beard.  O watched him walk past the car, then pointed out the window and exclaimed, “It Jesus!!”

Have I mentioned how much we love Thanksgiving Point?  We tried almost all of August to hit up the farm with our friends Laurel, Lincoln, and Knox for Two Dollar Tuesdays.  It was September before we could match up our busy schedules with healthy boys and who knows what else.  But that was just fine, since the farm is only $3.50 anyway.  So once again we had a super fun afternoon with friends.  And seriously, thank goodness for friends who know what LIFE is like and just GET you! 

Owen loves animals.  He LOVES cows.  Following, is the story in pictures of Owen’s first close encounter with the cow kind.

Getting a closer look.  O loved trying to climb up over and under the fences and gates.

Checking out the baby calf . . .

. . . when a nearby cow let out a HUGE moo.  Owen mooed right back.  Samuel wouldn’t go near the cows again without covering his ears.

Samuel was much less intimidated by the goats.

But got frazzled again by the rooster’s cock a doodles.

Some other highlights . . . Lincoln saying hello to the big cow, Owen saying hello to Knox, successful and unsuccessful pony rides {Sam refused to go, “No, I’m not scared. I just don’t want to right now.” O waited terribly impatiently and the moment I placed him on the pony, he freaked out.  So Lincoln got 2 rides, both of which he did not want to end}, and the new agriculture room where the boys got to ride tractors plant harvest and ship off produce.

Before we left, amidst breakdowns from hot cranky little boys, I made Laurel take a picture of Owen and me.  Compared to the last time I was at the farm, and thought it humorous that I weighed that of a goat and a kid at 6 months pregnant.  Now I think the scale is off.  I swear it is.  Because I’m pretty sure I don’t currently weight 280 pounds, or that of 3 newborn calves.  But Owen’s changed a bit since our last visit don’t you think?

When I was pregnant with Samuel, I suffered the normal motherly fears of “What if my child isn’t cute?!”  All I wanted for my baby was lots of hair and a pretty mouth.  And if I had to choose only one?  Hair!  During my 3 hours of pushing, it was a huge reward to when the top of Samuel’s little baby head was spotted, and the doctor said, “Wow, he has a lot of hair!”  The nurses told me later that he got the Most Hair Award of the week at the hospital.  It was thick and dark, and there was lots of it.  And I loved it!

7 1/2 months

8 1/2 months

Then I had Owen.  He wasn’t born with a ton of hair like Sam, but there was still a good thick fuzzy head of blonde hair.  And then it fell out.  All of it.  Except a teeny tiny strip at the bottom of his neck.  Fortunately, I have been thoroughly pleased with the fact that it is didn’t take long to start growing back.  But not all over his head.  Mostly in a patch right on top, and then a patch over each ear.  I get a kick out of it, and still think he’s cute as can be.  Although sometimes I do kind of think he looks like the Baby Ruth guy from Goonies.

It snowed the other week, and Samuel begged and begged amd begged to play in it.  I’m such a rotten Mom.  I just was not feeling the whole ordeal of bundling both boys up and trucking around outside in the inches and inches of cold.  Every time we walked out the back door to the car, Sam would take off and get his few seconds of play time before I hollered at him to get in the car.  One day O was still sleeping, so I left the car running and told Sam he could play while I unloaded groceries.  Sam took off so ridiculously excited that I finally caved.  It didn’t take us long to realize we needed the right clothes to make the experience bearable.  Although that didn’t stop Samuel from chasing me and trying to hit me with snowballs. 

So a couple days later, we geared up.  By then the snow was yucky and crunchy and half melted, but Samuel couldn’t have cared less.  He was giddy and bouncing with excitment as he got dressed, and bounded out the door, ready to go!  O was a good sport, too.  For a few minutes anyway . . . then he face planted in the snow, and after that he had a death grip on my arm until we were back safe inside.

So who wins the Blue Eyed Contest?! 

Owen 6 months.

Samuel 3 months.

I’ve got a pickle!

I’ve got a pickle!

I’ve got a pickle!  Hey hey hey hey!

The new trick.  {Please don’t make fun of Owen’s poor little head of hair.  He is very sensitive about it.}

 And again, you can tell me my boys look alike {like everyone else and their mom}.  But I won’t believe you.

Maybe, just maybe, there is a reason these toys come with buckles, straps, and harnesses.

I seem to remember Samuel having similar problems.  (3 months, and 4 1/2 months)

I love comparing pictures of my two boys.  On the left is Samuel at 2 months 9 days.  Owen on the right at 2 months 11 days.  I can definitely see that they are brothers, but I think they look very different.  Besides the glaring lack of Owen’s hair, I also see big differences in his eyes, his mouth, and his chin.  And Samuel has adorabley huge dimples that Owen does not.  But, their bodies are like exactly the same.  Maybe my NEXT baby will be a chunker.  Or maybe I’m doomed to have little babies that make me fret and worry about each fraction of an ounce they do (or do not) eat.  But one thing is for sure, chunky or not, I do make pretty dang cute babies.  {I’d say “Just kidding” but really I’m not.  Although I AM humble enough to admit that I am completely and entirely partial.  Hehe.}

[O's having a sleepy day.  2 more posts below!]