The kids all call him "baby." Not Solomon, or anything short for Solomon. Just, Baby.
I call him mooch. It might not sound like the most endearing word, but it has become endearing to me.
And quite frankly, Baby has turned into a fussy mess this past month. He had been so quiet and peaceful for so long it has thrown me for a loop. {It could have to do with the fact that the sweet little thing is growing SIX lovely teeth in his precious little mouth.}
He loves to be held... by the Mama... and often times, only by the Mama.
The Cowboy came in late from mowing the farm fields last night and I had spent the afternoon listening to the baby whine off and on for a few hours. He asked how I was doing and I just stared while holding Mr. Fussy Pants. And that sweet man of mine said he'd take the baby in the morning and let me mow the fields. But I always feel renewed after a good night's sleep, so the baby and I have spent yet another day together, side by side.
"It's a short season." The Cowboy always says.
He's right.
But the whining... oh man, the whining. NOT my favorite part of being a Mama.
{This is what he's looked like lately...}
In other news, Baby is not crawling yet.
He's still the craziest eater that I've had thus far. It's been a process getting him to eat solids and sitting with him at each meal has been another means for this Mama to grasp what it means to live patiently... it's no joke that the word literally means, long-suffering...
I give him 2 or 3 bites, then he cries. Then he stops crying, takes another few bites and starts crying again.
It's not every time now. He is getting better. We've actually had several meals this past week where he has not cried at all. Woot, Woot!
Joy all around.
He still has a million happy moments. I live for those moments.
He's handsome and healthy and precious.
10 months of sheer gift,
Even on the crazy days. :)
