Freddie Bear's (Impromptu) Photo Session

Just because I can never seem to find the time to write about them doesn't mean that milestones aren't being crossed every day by the one and only Freddie Bear.

He's gotten his first tooth this week; he's starting to laugh, AND he can sit up, though his "sit" quickly becomes a "hunch," as, in the course of a few minutes, he slumps progressively down-down-down until his chest rests on his legs. Oh, and often, there are faceplants. Still, you can't tell me that doesn't count.

He's started on baby food; he really loves it AND chewing on the spoon I feed him with. I give him a fruit at breakfast and a vegetable for dinner. His schedule is set - up around 7 a.m., naps at 9 a.m., 1 p.m., and 5 p.m. (assuming he'll drop his evening "cat nap" soon? Jones never took one, so I'm not sure when he'll give it up), and bed at 7:30. He turns six months on Monday and is the sweetest little love dumpling I can even imagine.

And his eyes.

His eyes will stop your heart. I know this because they stop the hearts of people everywhere we go. I think a lot about my boys' eyes, because I think they're so beautiful (I can say that because they didn't get them from me!). It's been well documented that, when Jeremy picked me up for our first date, the first thing to stop MY heart were his gorgeous eyes. I opened the door, saw them, and, as the last song sung at our wedding reception says, "'Zing! Zing! Zing!' went my heartstrings!"

Through both pregnancies, I prayed that the babies would be born with their daddy's eyes. It occurred to me recently that God answered my prayers both times but in different ways: Jones has the shape of Jeremy's eyes, and Freddie has the color. Isn't that just like God to show me how creative He is? I pray one prayer, and He can answer it in an infinite number of ways.

That made me think even more about artistry of God. Jones and Freddie were drawn from the exact same genetic pool, yet they look nothing alike. God can take the "raw material" - in this case, my DNA and Jeremy's - and make from it an unending number of variations. Had Jeremy and I had a passenger van full of kids, they'd all have been unique, individual creations made from the exact same materials. Like a jazz musician improvising on a theme, God is truly the great Creator, unlimited in both His imagination and His power.

Anyway, I bring up my thoughts on the boys' eyes, because you can't help but notice Freddie's in these pictures I'm posting. We're going to Nashville in early August for Brooke to take some family pictures, and my plan had been that Freddie would wear his dedication outfit. I quickly realized, though, that the outfit may not, shall we say, make it to early August, as my nearly six-month old is very close to  outgrowing its six-month size. I took these snapshots in the Pressleys' yard, so I'd at least have some second-rate shots of my sweet baby in an outfit that I totally loved.

Enjoy this beautiful baby ... she said in all modesty.

philabo-didda-BUMBO

Jones is finally starting to grow into some of his things.

I say "finally," because, for awhile there, I was thinking that registering for "must-haves," like a swing and a Bumbo seat, had been a complete waste of my time and somebody else's money. Lately, though, he's proven that he just needed a little time to get used to them both.

Here is a (very dark; I'm sorry.) video of him in his swing. He doesn't spend a whole lot of time in it - maybe 10 or 15 minutes a day - but when he does, he's getting better and better at reaching out and playing with the toys on the little lap bar, and, as always, he offers no shortage of his dolphin-like squeals. Either that, or my ears are even keener than I thought, and I'm starting to pick up the silent pings of our neighbor's dogs.

 

"philabo-didda-Bumbo;"
Jones knows ... Jive. His daily cereal
is served about 5:30 p.m.

The Bumbo is the other thing that he's really getting the hang of. I still don't leave him alone in it, even when it's on the floor - YOU try holding up a head that proportionately big for more than two minutes at a time! - but for quick stints (with me standing right beside him, Mom), he's golden.

One of the things that we use it the most for is feeding time. Spoon-training is coming along ... well, it's coming along. Jones doesn't love it at all, or maybe he just hates the taste of that nasty cereal mixed up with that nasty formula, and who can blame him? But I'm finally beginning to remember some tricks from my babysitting days that I think may help him turn the corner.

By "finally," of course, I mean "I remembered them last nite, as Jones was screaming, and, because he's working two jobs, Jeremy wasn't yet home to help out by holding him." Amazing what comes back to you in the heat of the battle.  Regardless, I believe it was Ann Bible who did this with her grandson Brad. Since he, now 20, is a CHAMPION of eating with utensils, I figured it'd worked for her.  Why not try it myself?

Here's how: I'd cram in a bite, and before Jones had time to cry about the foreign object invading his oral cavity, I'd cram in his paci. Every dental professional I know probably just cringed to read it, but by the end of the FiestaWare Fruit Bowl full of cereal, Jones was laughing instead of screaming at the sight of the purple and blue plastic spoon.

That's what I call a win-win! At this rate, we'll have him eating burgers by lake season, though, to be honest, I'd settle for just being able to add in a second bowl of cereal every day.