Jack's new favorite toy

Ah, sleep. I had forgotten thee. But now I remember and thou art good. Mom and Dad have been here three nights, and Jack's sleeping pattern has gotten significantly better each night. The first night he was up six or seven times, and the second it was four times. Last night he only woke twice between 9 and 7, then slept for another two hours!


Or so I hear. Ben and I have been down the hall at the Sanders' empty flat (they're in Boston on vacation until Friday morning), so all of our wakeup information is blissfully second-hand. We leave after Jack's first wake up to eat, around 11 then don't come back until 8:30 when Ben starts getting ready for work. It's the longest I've ever been away from Jack, waking or sleeping, but it's worth it.

Jack is absolutely loving all the love and attention he's getting from Nonna and Pops. He's playing nonstop, giggling constantly. He's found Pops's nose, which he loves honking, and he's a pro at playing peekaboo with Nonna.

Saturday after Mom and Dad got here, we basically all slept all day, except for a brief foray out to the KCWC Nearly New Sale, a rummage sale that slightly disappointed me. I had high hopes for it, as some KCWC members routinely buy exorbitantly expensive things for their babies (think Stokke highchairs for $300 and Baby Dior clothing) and would be likely to nearly give away those things when done with them, especially since the proceeds of the sale go to charity. Unfortunately I think we arrived a little late, after a lot of the stuff was picked over. The designer highchair I had hoped to find was not there; in fact, there were no highchairs there. So I suppose it's off to EBay to buy the same perfect highchair that Stacy has for Kaia, just like I should have done two months ago.

We had to rush back from the sale so we could take delivery of Mom and Dad's luggage, which didn't quite make the plane they did--a delay in KC left them literally running through the Newark airport to catch their flight to London with seconds to spare. But we were at the sale long enough for 1) Jack to discover balloons (cute picture but it's on Mom and Dad's camera, so I'll post later), and 2) the lady selling Krispy Kremes to zero in on Dad and Ben as suckers and get them to buy an entire box. They were gone by last night.

Sunday we again lounged around, and the weather was appropriately dismal. Dad and Ben made cheese eggs and bacon for breakfast and were especially adventurous for dinner, fixing Coq au Vin and cheesy garlic biscuits. Delicious. We went to mass at the Italian Church, where the priest confirmed our suspicions that they think Ben is Italian and I am only barely learning the language. I was holding Jack as we went up for communion, and as the priest said the blessing, he said something admiring in Italian to Ben over my head. Needless to say, neither of us quite got what he was saying. Mom and Dad, who are also studying Italian, were able to follow along a little--much better than Ben and I did the first few weeks. The picture is Jack dressed for church in one of his new outfits from Nonna and Pops.

Yesterday afternoon we braved the still awful weather to walk to a Portuguese chicken restaurant and the grocery store. While at the latter, I picked up some oat Cheerios. I had been resisting Cheerios because the latest recommendations on the introduction of wheat vary greatly--some say it's okay between 6-8 months and others say to wait until a year. I'm not particularly concerned about Jack having an allergy, but if he were to have one, wheat would probably be the worst, with milk and nuts a close second and third. So I figure it's best to play it safe and introduce wheat slowly and in small amounts. Our culture is too wheat-obsessed anyway.

But I digress. The point is, I got Cheerios, and Jack now has a new favorite toy. Not to diminish the joy he finds in all the new toys Nonna and Pops brought him, but Cheerios are by far the most interesting thing in the world to him right now. He's already got a great pincer grasp, and he even manages to get about one out of every ten into his mouth. The others go into his lap, up his sleeve, and a few have even mysteriously ended up in his socks. Fun times.

Tomorrow it's off to the NHS well-child clinic to be weighed. I anticipate it being a very good experience, as Jack has visibly chubbed up since his last visit there a few weeks ago. This is an extremely good thing as last time (toward the end of his eating strike) he had lost weight and was in the bottom 2% of weight for babies his age, despite being of above average height. Doctors and nurses can say until they're blue in the face that growth charts are inordinately based on the patterns exhibited by formula fed babies and that breastfed babies show slightly different patterns, but that doesn't do anything to soothe worried mommies of skinny babies. At least not this (formerly) worried mommy of a (formerly?) skinny baby!