Three months old

Luke celebrated his quarter-year birthday this past week. And even though he still seems brand new to me, everyone else is mistaking him for a toddler. Or a teenage heartthrob. Yep, we’ve got a big dreamboat on our hands. Watch out, ladies. Because he LOVES to flirt.

My son is literally growing bigger and bigger everyday. He is filling out all of his six-month clothes, and barely squeezing into size-2 diapers. He is also getting super strong, holding his head up pretty steadily and putting a good amount of pressure behind his constantly kicking legs. And he’s already got the baby-deathgrip mastered, aimlessly pulling at my hair and clothing with such a mighty grasp that you have to pry each of his chubby digits away from whatever he’s managed to catch in order to release it. So here I am, packing away my cute earrings and necklaces again.

And I know I’m a bit prejudice, but Luke really is the happiest baby I’ve ever seen. He is constantly cheesing, giggling and cooing. You barely have to look at him and he’ll crack a big smile, hijacking your attention and forcing you to drop whatever you’re doing to watch him beam back at you with those giant blue eyes.

And other than growing and smiling, we have a handful of milestones to report going into month three. First swim, first time meeting his Uncle Will and Uncle Ryan, getting baptized, first fight. Yep, I just said first fight. Two weeks ago while Luke was snoozing in the baby swing at my gym’s childwatch, a kid Taylor’s age walked up to my baby boy and scratched at his face while the workers weren’t looking. And it happened right before I got back from my workout, so when I go into the room I hear this awful screaming and see one of the workers holding a hysterical Luke, who is bleeding out of his mouth and ear.

Yeah, it’s pretty safe to say I TOTALLY LOST IT. And after snatching up my newborn and trying to console him, which inevitably led to me feeding him in the back room of the nursery, he calmed down and returned to his happy, smiley self. And after a few more giggles from Luke and a few deep breaths from me, we both regained composure and the mother of the perpetrator came in to apologize. And she was more hysterical than I was, and immediately I flipped the switch and repeatedly told her, It’s okay! He’s fine! Because he was totally alright, and because I know that if in three years someone had to pull me off a treadmill because Luke attacked an infant I would feel awful.

And when I called Chris and gave him the details of Luke’s first fight and total recovery, he laughed and said two things, One that this would definitely not be the last time our son would get roughed up while we were away from him, and Two being that that Mr Scratchy-Pants better watch his back as soon as our future linebacker starts walking.

So I survived my son’s first scuffle without any gray hairs, but something that is totally stressing me out on a daily basis is trying to contain his, er, how shall I phrase it? His firehouse? Basically, my son is peeing all over the place. On a number of occasions, my morning routine is wake up, feed Luke, attempt to change his diaper and then scrub the walls clean. One morning he actually peed all over his own face. There he was, all smiley and giggly after waking up and getting his breakfast when – BAM! – in the split-second between me taking off one diaper to retrieve another he started peeing with an exact trajectory that hit him right in his eyes. And if you could have seen his little face, blinking and twitching and trying to figure out WHAT IS THAT?! Oh my, it was hilarious. But after cleaning him up and then jokingly telling Chris what had just happened, my husband balked and said, Ugh, GROSS! And I was all, Really? Your kid just peed in his own face. THAT’S funny. And impressive.

But don’t worry, folks. All of these little hiccups are making my son tougher by the minute. I mean, he has to guard himself against his big sister everyday, who is still giving her little brother lots and lots of love. Big hugs and smothering kisses kinds of love. And as nerve-racking as that is for me, he absolutely ADORES her. And he tracks her movement across the room with his baby blues, and always cracks a smile when she’s pays him any sort of attention. Even if it is aggressive-love, as long as he’s happy and safe, and Taylor’s not feeling neglected, I’m one happy Mama.

So, Wow!, here we are with a three-month old. I seriously cannot believe how fast the past months have gone. And how smooth everything is going. I almost don’t like to talk about it, and am kinda waiting for the bottom to drop out at any moment. But it hasn’t yet. So, for now, I’m just going to soak-up every second of this calm wonderfulness that is our family, and sit back and smile and flirt with my son as much as I can.