Alex and I both survived his first month!

Warning: There are a lot of pictures, guaranteed to bore anyone but the most interested parties. That being said, there will NOT be a quiz, and my feelings won't be hurt if you don't make it all the way through the page. You may want to get yourself a cup of coffee or tea while the page loads. If you are on dial-up, you may want to grab a good book.

Jan 1, Day 3. Here is the newborn in his cage. He enjoys sleeping with his arms flung out to the sides. At this point, he still was dressed in a hat.

Jan 5. Here's my mom with Alex in his "Little uppy" (sic) outfit. My mom has a closeup of his head and hat, which makes him look like a gnome.


Jan 6. The Leapfrog Nursing position. At this point, it was whatever worked. He has since settled into the more common "Cradle" position. I describe his rooting reflex as the "Hungry Hungry Hippos" approach, and encourage him with the phrase. "Where's my hungry hungry hippos?" I ask him when he's having difficulty finding and latching on.

Jan 6. We've seen more of my mom and Mikey this past month than we had the entire time we've known them. Not that they were here to see anyone but the grandbaby.



Jan 9. Caira is investigating the baby, probably wondering why he's on the t-shirt. (She views clean t-shirts on the bed as her perogative to lie on.) At this point, she is bigger than Alex.

Jan 9. Here I am holding the baby in one of his favorite sleeping-on-a-person positions. - Although he has become adept at the sprawl-across-the-lap position as well.


Jan 10. Resting on Papa. At nearly 2 weeks old, I think he still resembles Winston Churchill more than either Travis or me... (picture)

Jan 10. In his cage with a stuffed animal. We're not sure how much attention he pays to his fluffy companions, but he does appear to occassionally stare at them. "Fluffy", by the way, is one of my nicknames for him when he's being adorable. When he's hungry or fussy, he's sometimes referred to as "Mister Mouth", and when he's being a messy eater, "Milk Mouth", "Milk Face", or "Milk Monster", depending on the quantity of milk on his face, his clothes, my clothes, and if applicable, the surroundings.



Jan 11. Travis's parents Jack and Barbara stayed with us for about the first two weeks. Without them, I don't think I would've survived. Meals were cooked, and I had the luxury of pawning off the baby midway through the morning watch, and could get some sleep. Grandma didn't seem to mind. With his unerring sense of humor and irony, Jack dubbed Alex "Sports Fan". Because grandparents praise how strong the boy is, I call Alex "My little Rugby Player" when he's being physically active, or "My sumo wrestler" when he's consuming vast quantities of milk.
Jan 13. Here's my  Lamb, with my Lambie-kin. Travis has commented that I make up lots of nicknames.



Jan 19. He he is going through some of his expressions. The next day, he went to the pediatrician for his two-week checkup (yes, it was around 3 weeks). "He appears to be eating well." The doctor says. No kidding. Weight: 10lbs, 12 oz. Who cares about the other stats.

Jan 21. Mikey's sister Kathleen, Travis, and Pope Alexander IX. (Alexander VIII was pope from 1689-1691.) While the puppy hat made him resemble a gnome, this 'bear' hat made him look like a pope. Or is it a bishop that wears the tall white hat?




Jan 21. Papa with his baby. Does Travis take care of the baby? Mostly.


Jan 22. Travis, Alex, and Caira. Caira tried fitting herself onto Papa's lap next to the baby, but it just wasn't working. She finally came over to my lap in disgust.
Jan 26. Here's the baby in Mama's lap. It's gratifying that he calms for me as soon as I pick him up. It occurred to me that I also become calm and contented as soon as I pick him up - a useful biological device for when Alex calls to me in the middle of the night. I'll go from being cranky and exhausted to concerned and attentive as soon as I pick up my little darling.

Jan 26. When he's straining to get something digestive out the bottom, his forehead gets a purplish V shape. Whether he's looking at Papa or just concentrating, I can't tell.

Jan 26. More Papa holding Baby. He (Alex) will often contentedly look around, and doesn't always require 100% of the attention of the attending parent. I think by this point, he looks a lot less "newbornish".

Jan 27. Quality time between Papa and Alex, with Caira investigating. Josh, by the way, has taken an active interest in Alex, but there aren't many pictures of the two of them. Josh sniffs Alex, and watches him, and waxes hopeful when Alex is placed in the stroller.




Jan 27.  Some of the endearing facial expressions Alex makes. Whether anyone else would find them endearing, I don't know.





Jan 30. Alex in his jeans. Since most of his clothes are the 3-6mo assortment, I thought his jeans should be the same. Well, they're a little long. "Little Munchkin" is his nickname here, which goes along with a made-up song to the tune of "The Muffin Man".


Jan 30. Alex and his Boppy. The Boppy is one of the more useful baby tools, an adept multi-tasker that Alton Brown would surely approve of. A couple of times each day, well after a feeding, Alex is placed on the pillow to give him a different perspective - and practice looking at the world the right-way up. The Boppy has all sorts of prohibitions on it... "Never use on bed", "Never allow baby to sleep in Boppy"... which Travis points out is like Q Tip saying "Do not stick in ear".

Go to Tara's Home PageTara's Photo Album Home Page, courtesy of Mark at Halibut


Tara's comment:
"I'm tired." Says Travis as I attempt to thrust the baby upon him, sometime between 10 and 11am. Alex was still on an approximate 2 hour schedule, and I had 'hit the wall' sometime around 7am. And Travis says he's tired? Who's been in bed for at least 10 hours (according to my calculations). And the maximum amount of consecutive sleep I had gotten over the past couple weeks since Alex's arrival was probably 3 hours? My eyes had visions of an imminent decapitation, thwarted by my brain which kicked in, washing the vision away with tears and constricting my throat so that the decapitating words could not escape. Perhaps sensing how close he had come to annhilitation, or perhaps just through pity for seeing such a miserable me, he reluctantly took the baby, allowing me a couple of hours of sleep. Later I advised him that he would not receive any pity for his 'sleep-deprivation', and I haven't heard a complaint about it since. He might have more enthusiasm when he takes the baby when I need him to... but then again, I can sleep without his enthusiasm.

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