We're 2 months, 2 weeks, and 5 days into being parents of two. There is no special significance to that, other than the fact that this is how long it's taken me to get around to his apparently obligatory 2-month update.
It's customary to refer to newborns as "bundles of joy" but I wouldn't say that's completely accurate except as shorthand for "bundles that bring their parents joy". Newborns can actually be a little...screamy. And sleepy. And poopy and eaty. They are really awesome for cuddling, staring at, and admiring their beauty (if you're not too distracted by their acne), and word on the street is you can get really great pictures of them, but I wouldn't know because getting tons of pictures of my newborn is one of the thousands of things that I didn't accomplish that first month.
But I digress. I'd call newborns something more along the lines of "bundles of soft, squishy, goodsmelling, helpless, heartbreakingly sweet coziness."
My point is that while newborn Oz was completely wonderful and oh so much more than any reasonable mom could bargain for (::cough:: 10 lbs ::cough:: 7 oz), he has now officially reached bundle of joy stage. He is bursting with smiles, trying his darndest to laugh (it comes out "Ahhhh...ahhhh! Aaaaaahhhhh!"), cracks a huge grin when he sees his big sister, is showing signs of being ticklish, and more or less only cries when he has an obvious reason. Sometimes that reason happens to be his mother having the audacity to strap him into his car seat, but he's getting better about that.
He started smiling on purpose when he was around a month old. (If you ever think I'm stretching a developmental milestone to make it earlier, just remember the 11 months he spent in the womb.) Those first baby smiles are shockingly delightful--they open their mouths wide, and the little lip curve and eye crinkles show what they're trying to do. It's like they realize that there's some sort of joke going on in the world, and they're not sure what it is, but they're going to smile along to be polite. By now Oliver's moved on to full jovial stage. The changing table is his Special Smiling Spot. We suspect it's because he always receives our undivided attention there. Sometimes when he was fussy as a newborn, just putting him on the changing table was enough to calm him down.
He's still a pretty cozy guy, though. His favorite spot to sleep remains someone's chest, with his legs tucked way up underneath him. He's a big boy--at his 2-month checkup he weighed 14 lbs something and was 24 inches long (that's 96th percentile for weight). And it's all in his torso. It's like a tree trunk. That's extra cool because he's exclusively breastfed, which as many of you know was a complete physical and mental trainwreck with Eva. Like my mom always said...Try, try again!
Eva chose a crackly, rattly, taggy toy elephant for him as a present back before he was born--I'll always wonder if it was because of Oliver the Elephant associations--and it is his mostest favoritest possession. When we put it on his lap he tries to stretch his arms around it and shove it into his face, at which point he roots around rather aimlessly. We're not too great at getting things actually into our mouth yet. But his eyes are smiling the whole time.
He does his best to foil all diaper changes, either through rapid-fire kicking or distracting cuteness. One of his favorite current tricks is to wrap his arms--often with fists, though he's getting better at grabbing--around whichever of my arms is closer to his head and sloooowly bring it to his mouth, with which he exuberantly roots and slobbers on it, all while trying to smile.
Speaking of slobber.
He's a spitter upper, too, but why should I talk about that on here? Gross. If you wanted to know about spitup you'd be reading a tell-all blog, not this heavily filtered thing.
Yesterday he rolled over from his stomach to his back for the very first time. He's not a fan of being on his tummy so he had a little motivation. And he's carrying on the proud tradition of children in this family making it as difficult as possible for me to get pictures of them. (A law of physics they don't teach you in college: The speed of your child will always exceed the speed of your shutter.)
As for which parent he looks like, we've come to the conclusion that he is actually a clone of Noah Emmerich.
His eyes are a pretty ambiguous color--he was born dark blue but more green and brown have been coming in. Sometimes it looks like he's going brown, but for now I'd call them dark hazel.
Well, as you all know, I could go on forever about my kids. That is why I have a blog, after all. (Did I write on here when we lived in Italy? Hardly!!) But I think I have some coffee to brew.