Yesterday was Roark’s four month check up, and he passed with flying colors.  He is still a chunk and is weighing in at 19.6 lbs.  When he’s in my arms, I swear it feels like he’s carrying cement in his britches.

I didn’t record his length, but he’s still holding onto his place in the 95th percentile.  This is not a bit surprising to me since he’s outgrows his clothes the instant I put something new on him.

Life for Roark is pretty sweet these days, even though he routinely likes to fuss about it.  Someone has told him that you don’t get noticed in our house unless you speak up, and he has grasped this concept completely.  I blame it on teeth coming in or just boredom, but I think Ken is convinced it’s just to irritate him. If that’s so, Roark’s plan is working remarkably well.

Besides his love for the changing table, he now loves the bathtub too.  He lays on his back and thrashes his arms and legs around, splashing water, and smiling when it hits him in the face.  It’s so cute that most times he has an audience of three standing over him, watching him play.

I love that he now responds to my voice.  All I have to say is “Hey Roarkus” in a sing song-y voice, and he immediately grins from ear to ear.  This makes me smile back at him, and I begin to talk even more like an idiot.  Before I know it, half an hour has passed, and I still haven’t finished changing his diaper because I am too busy munching on his belly and listening to him giggle with delight.

Recently he has opened the floodgates and started letting the drool pour out.  I blame this partly on the love affair he has with his hands.  He is constantly sucking on them…fingers, knuckles, thumbs.  He’s not picky.  He just wants a hand in his mouth at all times and will shoot a pacifier across the room to get to one.

The drool thing, though, is pretty gross.  I have been spoiled in the past because Edie never spit-up or drooled.  However, if I hold Roark for a moment, I’ll pull him away only to realize that my shoulder has been slimed.  I wish I could remember to grab burp clothes everywhere I go.  But that request is on a long list of things I wish I could remember to do and don’t.

We are finally getting some rest in our house, and our nights are pretty quiet.  Roark is still waking around 4:00 a.m. to feed, and I’m okay with that.  This has become a special time between the two of us.  We sit in the quiet, and I enjoy him in a way I can’t during the day.  I focus on him and let him wrap his little fingers around mine.  I rock him and shush him, while there is no Phineas & Ferb playing in the background or a sister trying to give him kisses with her feet.  It’s just the two of us being still and quiet in the night.  This is one of the sweetest moments in my day, and it won’t be long before I’ll be talking about how much I miss it.

Two months old

 Today was Roark’s two month check up at the doctor.  He is still holding onto his Sumo baby look and weighs fifteen pounds even.  Since his length (24.5 inches) is in proportion to his weight, the pediatrician has assured me that he is fine.  He’s just a big boy.  This saddens me a little because I want him to be little and cuddly for as long as possible.  He doesn’t look like a newborn anymore, and in fact, could pass for a baby twice his age. 

I thought I would take this opportunity to document what life is like for our little Roarkus at two months.  The question new mommies are always asked is, “How is he/she sleeping?”  Well, he has had a couple of glorious nights where he slept six hours straight, but for the most part, he will go five hours before wanting to be fed.  This is by far much better than the previous two hour feedings we were doing a month ago, and I am feeling less like a zombie these days.  But I look forward to when I can report that he is sleeping through the night.  He’s getting there.

Roark started smiling at us several weeks back, but really makes you work for it.  The only exception to this is when he’s on the changing table.  He LOVES the changing table!  I don’t know if it is the couple of seconds of freedom where he feels the fresh air on his cheeks or what, but when I lay him down he just can’t help himself.  His face lights up with this goofy, gummy smile, and his legs start pumping with excitement.  I know he is my kid, and I am bias.  But I still think you would have to have a heart of stone not to find it adorable. 

Life is good, and we adjusting more and more each day.  I have accepted that I am just a little more frazzled these days.  Ken keeps telling me that it was the same when Edie was young.  Then he gently reminds me of all the times I locked myself out of the house or drove off with my purse on top of the car.  I have yet to do either of those since Roark’s been born, but I did walk out of a public restroom with my skirt tucked into my underwear the other day.  So I wouldn’t say that I am fully on top of things just yet.  We’ll get there, and hopefully I will have a shred of dignity left when we do.