I might run out into traffic

To soothe a baby, go on a car ride, right? Not if the baby is Sam! He hates riding in the car, and he doesn’t let us forget it. He screams the entire time he is buckled in. He could have just been fed and changed and be the happiest baby around, yet the second we get rolling, he starts screaming.

The kid has stamina, too. One might think he’d eventually wear himself out, but not so much. Tuesday night we drove to Cincinnati (a trip that should take an hour but took two thanks to traffic) and he did not stop. The whole time. Between him and the horrible traffic, when we finally got to the Reds game my nerves were shot. I was about to take to the drink.

He’s always fine (albeit a pool of sweat) as soon as we get to our destination and get him out. He just wants to be held, which I understand, but occasionally we do have to be in the car.

I feel so bad for him when he is upset like that, but I really don’t know what to do. We’ve tried sitting back there with him, singing, playing music (and radio static), holding his hand, talking to him… everything we can think of, but nothing helps. Even if we stop and get him out and settled down, he starts up again as soon as he’s back in the car seat.

I am scared to death of our upcoming trip to St. Louis (for a Cardinals game… do you see a pattern here?). It’s six hours of solid driving.

I am open to suggestions!! Actually I am begging for them. And help me decide this – on a long road trip, how long is too long to just keep chugging along even though he’s crying??

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It’s official – boys are gross.

I have come to the conclusion that boys are just born gross. All this time I thought it was a learned behavior, but if my son is representative of his gender, I now know they are that way from birth.

Sammy spits up. All. The. Time. Jenny can confirm this, as he ralphed all over her the other day. And it’s not just a little bit… the sheer volume amazes me. If his cheeks weren’t so chubby, I would swear that none of the milk he ingests was being digested. I suppose this could be the reason that he nursed from approximately noon to 10 p.m. yesterday. Ugh.

I don’t know how to put this delicately, so I won’t bother – the kid is a farting machine. Jenny can also attest to this, as she witnessed his would-make-a-14-year-old-boy-jealous farting prowess just today. Some people have to stretch before they can completely wake up, some must drink coffee. Not Sammy. Sammy must fart 9000 times before his eyes will completely open.

And then there’s the peeing. I know I’ve mentioned it before, but jeez! It’s just amazing to me. The other day, we were visiting my grandma and I decided to give Sam a bath in the kitchen sink. Yeah, nothing like pee in the cookie jar. Lovely. Come to think of it, I’m going to need to get a new toothbrush from Jenny’s stockpile, seeing as how the rest of Sam’s baths have taken place in my bathroom sink. Awesome.

As I wrote this, I paused for a moment, concerned that Sam or his friends might someday read this and he would be embarrassed. Then I remembered the moral of the story – boys are gross – and realized that his aptitude for all things relating to bodily functions will probably make him quite proud of himself.

Boys. Ugh.

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Does anyone know how to freeze time?

Today, Sammy is six weeks old. Six weeks!! How did that happen? We just weighed him, and he’s up to 13 pounds. Where did my little baby go? Last night our pastor commented that he’s not a little newborn anymore and I about cried.

My sadness over his growth doesn’t make any sense to Andy. He looks at it as proof that Sam is healthy and is thriving, and that is great. And it is, I know, but it’s just going by so fast. So fast.

As I wrote that last paragraph, it reminded me of when Sophie turned one – Jenny was feeling the way I am, and Bobby told her that he wasn’t sad at all… turning one meant she was that much closer to turning three. Men.

They have a point, really, I suppose, and day by day things are already getting easier with Sam. Last night he slept the best yet, and hopefully that will continue. He’s so aware of what’s going on around him now, and he’s starting to think about smiling at us (I don’t blame him for taking a while on that front – we’re not very funny.) So while there is and will continue to be a bright side to his growing up, it still breaks my heart.

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