Boy Oh Boyers

Tom and Rowan were lying on the bed tonight after Rowan's bath. Rowan was just in a diaper, cooing and laughing and rolling around. (He loves to have his toes free.) Tom was talking to him; I was brushing my teeth and eavesdropping. Tom said, "Do you know that tomorrow you turn 8 months old? That's 75% of the way to one year! Woohoo!" Something inside me kind of twisted around for a second, taking that in. 3/4 of the way to a year old? Our baby? Can it be? And then the (probably predictable) conflicting thought: I can hardly remember not having him. It's as if he's been here forever. Like most things in parenthood, this one has me perplexed, with no hope -- and really no desire -- to figure out how a person can be so new and so old all at the same time.

It happened Thursday. We were playing on the floor with Rowan's toy box, the same one he's so fond of tipping over. (It was actually a Christmas gift from Aunt Julie for Mommy back before Rowan was born, but it's been repurposed with great success.) Anyway, Rowan was standing next to the edge of it, holding my fingers for support. He let go with one hand and reached in to pick up a toy, not an uncommon thing for him to do. But this time he swung forward, let go of my other finger, and plunged headfirst into the toy box. It's like something you'd see in a movie -- his little feet were kicking, but from the waist down he was inside the box! Needless to say it scared us both, and Rowan started crying immediately. I knew that on the way down his head had grazed the far side of the box. As soon as I picked him up, I saw it could be a nasty bruise. Besides bleeding, it was already turning purple. I went straight for the ice pack and spent the next 15 minutes icing Rowan's forehead and entertaining him to keep him from crying about the unpleasant coldness. Then, we applied liberal Neosporin several times during the day. The aggressive treatment seemed to work, because as you can see in this picture, we were left with little more than a scratch to show for the traumatic experience. And yes, I know this is only a harbinger of little boy boo-boos to come.

Sometimes there's just nothing better to do than a little layin' around. Sadly, we sent Meemaw back home today after a wonderful visit to keep Rowan while I traveled to Portland, Oregon for a conference. Her departure coincided with Mommy coming down with a nasty virus or something, so today we're home taking it easy. Anyway, this picture is a nice glimpse into some downtime. It's also the first of a few photos taken on Mommy's new Blackberry. It's come in handy sometimes when we don't have a camera around.

I had to go to the bathroom (funny how that happens sometimes, even to moms). I laid Rowan in his crib, turned on the mobile, and came back about two minutes later to this scene! Can you believe it? He didn't make it to his feet, but he stayed in this position for at least five minutes while I took pictures, talked to him, and generally made a fuss over the whole accomplishment. That's one of the perks of the job!

The web hosting company that we use for this web site is moving all their servers to a new building, so sometime this weekend (probably Saturday, but it depends when our actual server gets unplugged) you'll be unable to access Rowan's blog for an unknown period of time. It shouldn't be more than 24 hours, thought it may be. The company assures us they have made backups of all server data and have done everything possible to make sure the move goes quickly and smoothly.

Speaking of smoothly, that's far from how things have gone in the Boyer household the last few days. Rowan has been sick. We don't know whether it's a cold or allergies (we hope for the former since it would run its course in a few days, whereas pollen is here to stay for a while). The poor thing looks like a fish out of water half the time, breathing through his mouth and sniffling at the same time. His little eyes are watering so much it looks like he's crying even when he's happily playing! I think the fact that he's completely unaware of how he looks probably contributes to his minimal fussiness during this time. As long as we keep his nose clear enough so he can breathe, he doesn't seem to mind one single bit that there are snot and tears streaming down his face! He's slightly more restless while he sleeps, but we propped up one end of the crib mattress as Grandmommy recommended, and that did seem to help. There are no antihistamines or decongestants (according to our pharmacist) that are approved in babies Rowan's age, so it's all mattress-propping, steam-showering, nose-wiping fun for now. Did I say steam showering? That's right -- I realized a bath hot enough to steam would be too hot for us to be in, so last night Rowan and I took a hot shower. We sat on the floor of the shower, next to but not really in the flow of water. Tom and I weren't sure how Rowan would react but he had a marvelous time. He played with his bath toys just the same (well, the duckies didn't float, but they didn't care). He really loved being able to play with Daddy through the glass. There may be a midday shower on its way to relieve the nasal stuffiness yet again! Oh, and of course there's a hiatus on the outdoor walks until we know whether the pollen is the culprit for this suffering. :-(

Have a good weekend, and we'll see ya' on the other side of the server move.

Oh, I forgot to mention this morning's near miss on the runway with breakfast catastrophe! As usual, I had been sipping my coffee whlie preparing Rowan's breakfast of oatmeal and fruit. I took all the breakfast stuff to the table (his food, spoon, bib, wipes to clean his mouth, sippie cup, etc.) and sat it next to my coffee cup on a placemat. I got Rowan and was strapping him into his high chair when he suddenly reached (much farther than I thought he could reach!) over and tipped my coffee cup. The coffee poured out onto him, and immediately I had visions of burns and hospitals and I yelled for Tom. Had I thought for one single second, I would have realized that I had been sipping on that coffee for at least 20 minutes, and there was no way it was warmer than bathwater by then. But I didn't think, I just yelled - which of course scared Rowan so he started screaming. (I doubt he would have cried at all over the spill itself, he probably would have been happy to have a wet hand.) Anyway, poor Tom came running in from shaving to a scene of spilled coffee, screaming baby, and hysterical wife saying "I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry!" What a way to start the morning, huh? :-)

Anyway, needless to say Rowan stopped crying almost immediately and the lukewarm coffee didn't injure him in the least. After a quick diaper change (it sounds funny, but my scream seemed to literally have scared the you-know-what out of Rowan), we were back to breakfast and it all went well. We will be moving the high chair farther from the table from now on!! Thank God for lessons learned with minimal trauma to all. (Whew.)