Eleven Months
Major news this month: Fritz decided to wean himself sometime between 3:00 and 7:00 on Saturday, November 4.
Seriously, it was that abrupt. Karl tried to put him down for afternoon nap without me and Fritz threw a fit and refused to go to sleep until my boobs and I returned from running errands. Then at bedtime, he refused to nurse, repeatedly bit me, and slapped my chest. Baby child, WHAT THE HECK??? So I dug out the pump that has been sitting unused for two years. Lo and behold, he loves bottles. Never mind that he angrily rejected them for the first four months of his life until I gave up trying. Now they're awesome! Even with formula! Delicious!
So I weaned off the pump, Fritz is getting mostly formula for the next couple weeks until he can have cow's milk, and I'm mourning and celebrating the end of this chapter of my life. Someone has been living off my body almost nonstop for the last eight years. This wasn't the way I expected to end my nursing career; I envisioned keeping at least the bedtime session for a long time as I lingered over the end of our baby days. I suppose that's how this parenting thing goes. Just when we think we know what we're doing, the kids have other plans.
Putting him to bed is still delightful. He holds his bottle and we rock until he's ready to roll over into my chest and doze off. And it's nice that Karl or grandma can put him to bed occasionally. He still naps solidly, about 90 minutes in the morning and 90 minutes in the afternoon. He's also going through the night now, with bedtime at 7:45 and wake-ups highly variable, sometime between 5:15 and 7:15. Our mornings are very nice too. One of us takes him downstairs to enjoy a quiet bottle + coffee on the couch and watch the sunrise. Fritz is mellow and happy to cuddle while he guzzles his formula.
He's still crawling all over the place and shows no interest in walking unless someone props him up behind the walker.
Like a good fourth child, he takes advantage of being ignored, and zooms off to get into things that I never would have let the other kids get away with. We've taken to saying, "Where's Perry?" because it's just like in Phineas and Ferb where they suddenly realize the platypus has disappeared to do something mysterious. We usually find him eating chalk or crawling around with scissors. He also likes to crawl around between the chair legs while the big kids are working at the table. They rescue him when he gets stuck trying to go over the foot rails.
His new form of communicating is to growl like a gremlin. He used to sound like he was leaking air all the time, and now he growls "A-DA!" all day. He might have words for Heidi (he says "a-da" with particular emphasis when we go into her room or school), Izzy ("a-za"), all done (also "a-da," when I take his tray away), and Dad ("da-DA"), but it's hard to tell with so little differentiation.
Still has a ridiculous sad face.
His favorite activities are eating chalk, knocking down block towers, unloading the dishwasher, and going for walks.
Everyone adores him. I mean, it's not surprising, given that he's adorable and good-natured, but everyone really loves him. All three of his older siblings want to share a room with him. The kids' friends play with him and carry him around. Random trick-or-treaters want to pat him.
Being the baby of the family seems like a good racket.
Seriously, it was that abrupt. Karl tried to put him down for afternoon nap without me and Fritz threw a fit and refused to go to sleep until my boobs and I returned from running errands. Then at bedtime, he refused to nurse, repeatedly bit me, and slapped my chest. Baby child, WHAT THE HECK??? So I dug out the pump that has been sitting unused for two years. Lo and behold, he loves bottles. Never mind that he angrily rejected them for the first four months of his life until I gave up trying. Now they're awesome! Even with formula! Delicious!
So I weaned off the pump, Fritz is getting mostly formula for the next couple weeks until he can have cow's milk, and I'm mourning and celebrating the end of this chapter of my life. Someone has been living off my body almost nonstop for the last eight years. This wasn't the way I expected to end my nursing career; I envisioned keeping at least the bedtime session for a long time as I lingered over the end of our baby days. I suppose that's how this parenting thing goes. Just when we think we know what we're doing, the kids have other plans.
Putting him to bed is still delightful. He holds his bottle and we rock until he's ready to roll over into my chest and doze off. And it's nice that Karl or grandma can put him to bed occasionally. He still naps solidly, about 90 minutes in the morning and 90 minutes in the afternoon. He's also going through the night now, with bedtime at 7:45 and wake-ups highly variable, sometime between 5:15 and 7:15. Our mornings are very nice too. One of us takes him downstairs to enjoy a quiet bottle + coffee on the couch and watch the sunrise. Fritz is mellow and happy to cuddle while he guzzles his formula.
He's still crawling all over the place and shows no interest in walking unless someone props him up behind the walker.
Like a good fourth child, he takes advantage of being ignored, and zooms off to get into things that I never would have let the other kids get away with. We've taken to saying, "Where's Perry?" because it's just like in Phineas and Ferb where they suddenly realize the platypus has disappeared to do something mysterious. We usually find him eating chalk or crawling around with scissors. He also likes to crawl around between the chair legs while the big kids are working at the table. They rescue him when he gets stuck trying to go over the foot rails.
His new form of communicating is to growl like a gremlin. He used to sound like he was leaking air all the time, and now he growls "A-DA!" all day. He might have words for Heidi (he says "a-da" with particular emphasis when we go into her room or school), Izzy ("a-za"), all done (also "a-da," when I take his tray away), and Dad ("da-DA"), but it's hard to tell with so little differentiation.
Still has a ridiculous sad face.
His favorite activities are eating chalk, knocking down block towers, unloading the dishwasher, and going for walks.
Everyone adores him. I mean, it's not surprising, given that he's adorable and good-natured, but everyone really loves him. All three of his older siblings want to share a room with him. The kids' friends play with him and carry him around. Random trick-or-treaters want to pat him.
Being the baby of the family seems like a good racket.
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