Two!

Weston turned two months yesterday and I'm starting to remember how much I love two-month-olds. The random crying doesn't happen anymore--when he's fussing, it's almost always because he's tired now. Before he was born, I thought, "Oh, when the baby cries, I'll just nurse him and whether he's hungry or sleepy, that should take care of it because babies LOVE to nurse to sleep." As usual, the Universe decided to thwart my plans by giving me the one baby on the planet who does not, in fact, like to nurse to sleep. Instead, he prefers to be rocked with a pacifier. I mean, do you KNOW how much time and effort I spent making sure Luke took a pacifier because I didn't want him to be too reliant on nursing for comfort? And now that I'm over that particular brand of insanity, when I'm perfectly willing to nurse my baby to comfort him, I get the baby who wants a pacifier. Are you kidding me?!

He still doesn't like to sleep anywhere other than on my person, but that works out just fine for us because it means that I can still put him in a sling and go about my day, instead of being stuck at home when he's napping. He particularly enjoys napping in the great outdoors--parks, hiking trails, the backyard.

He started smiling about three weeks ago and since then, McMoose, Luke, and I have been making fools of ourselves trying to get him to smile. McMoose can make him smile almost instantly and he'll smile at Luke, as long as Luke doesn't get too close. (This might have something to do with the fact that when Luke DOES get too close, he tends to try to pick Weston up by his head or poke his ears or hug him with entirely too much enthusiasm and it's pretty hard to smile when you're being manhandled by someone who's almost three times your size.) When he sees me, on the other hand, his first thought is, "Holy cow, it's been FOREVER since I ate. I might even be starving. Must have food...WAAAAAAHHH!" So all of his mama-smiles are strictly reserved for AFTER he eats.

He enjoys his swing and seems to believe that the little stuffed animals hanging above it are his friends. He smiles at them. He talks to them. He tries oh-so-hard to reach them. Unfortunately, his limbs don't quite do what he wants them to yet, so while he's busily trying to get his arm to reach up and grab the stuffed animals, it comes and smacks him on the head instead.

He likes it when I put him in the carrier and sweep or mop the floors. He doesn't like it when I try to put away the laundry, possibly because I keep bumping hangers into his head. He's still not a fan of riding in the car--especially in the evening. I don't know why, but he's much more willing to sit in the carseat in the morning than he is later in the day. His favorite time of day is bath time and there comes a time every evening when he starts grumbling at me and the only way to fix him is to give him a bath. (Actually, he calms down as soon as he hears us turn the faucet on. What can I say? The kid knows what he wants.)

He gets called all kinds of nicknames, but he's starting to look at us when we say his name. We have his two-month doctor visit next week, so I don't know what his official weight is right now, but here's what I do know: the pants he's wearing right now? Have dirt stains on the knees. Why, you ask? Because Luke was wearing them WHEN HE WAS CRAWLING. And just as a point of reference, Luke started crawling when he was seven months old, which means that Weston is wearing the clothes Luke wore as a seven-month-old at the ripe old age of NINE WEEKS. I'm pretty sure that if he could talk, he'd ask for a steak.

I do have pictures for the month, but what I don't have is any idea where the camera cord might be packed, so pictures will be up at some point in the (hopefully) not too distant future.