What a difference a day (or two) makes!

I've heard the expression (said with your twangiest Texas twang), "If you don't like the weather in Texas, just wait a minute and it'll change." That was our reality this week. On Saturday night/Sunday morning, we received about 3 inches of snow. Gary decided to take the family out to play in it. Gavin and mommy no likey...

But, like the good Texans we are, Gavin and I waited just a minute (ok, more like a day or two), and the weather did change! Today there wasn't a cloud in the sky, and the temperature was 73 degrees. We likey...a lot! Spring could be my new favorite season...sorry fall.

Mr. Independent

At almost 13 months old, Gavin is becoming so independent. He plays by himself, staying busy for what seems like hours! I can only keep his attention for a few minutes with some silly puzzle or singing animal toy. Then, it's off to doing, well...whatever it is he wants to do. Most times, it's playing with things that do not belong to him...the remote (T.V., Wii, radio), cell phones, anything behind the wet bar, Jack's toys, shoes, Gary's gym or work bag, my purse or diaper bag, the DVD's in the coffee table. You get the point.

I love it when he plays the game of "yuck". It's his way of going around and touching the things he's not supposed to. The other day he walked from one thing to another correctly declaring them "yuck". First, he walked to the garbage can in the kitchen. Yuck. Then, he moved to the bathroom and pointed at the toilet. Yuck. He then walked into the laundry room where I heard Gary say, "No baby. That's not yuck". Gary was wrong. Gavin was pointing to and touching the garbage can in the laundry room. That is also yuck.

Another sign of independence came yesterday at dinner time. Normally, I fix things that Gavin can pick up with his fingers (because he will not let me feed him). Lately, we have been practicing with the spoon. This is what happens when dada, uh, "helps" Gavin eat with a spoon.

Good job, boys. I don't think either one of them really get it ;)

I'm happy that he is finding his independence, but in a way, I'm sad to see him grow up. I know I'm going to wake up one morning, and we'll be dropping him off at college...at least that's what other people have said!! I'll just have to make a point to capture, and relish, every moment from now until college!!

Like mother, like sons...

It has been said that Gavin, and Jack for that matter, have my grace and coordination. That's not a compliment. I am about as uncoordinated and ungraceful as they come. Jack, the uncoordinated jerk, and Gavin, the unbalanced boy, don't make a very good team. This team collided Tuesday night and resulted in our first trip to the Emergency room. Tuesday was a great day, so the three of us were going to go for a run. As we were all making our mass exodus out of the bedroom, Jack ran in front of Gavin and knocked him down (the third time that day!) After harshly scolding Jack, I tended to Gavin. He was on his hands and knees crying pretty hard. I picked him up, and he immediately put his head down on my shoulder. When I put him down, he cried and had difficulty walking. I palpated his legs and feet to see if anything was hurting...no reaction. So, I scooped him up, and we went on our run. We went on with the night as usual. It was only when I was giving Gavin his bath that I noticed the giant, quarter size black and blue LUMP on his head! No wonder he was acting so out of it!!! I put him to bed and consulted my baby bible, Baby 411. After reading the section "Trauma", I decided to call the on call pediatrician. He called back and scared the bejesus out of me! He said he thought Gavin had a concussion, and I should wake him up and take him to the ER for a CT scan. Thank God Barbara was here because Gary was out of town, and I was a wreck! To make a long story short, we went to the ER where he was checked out by the nurse practitioner and the ER doctor who both said he seemed fine, and they wouldn't do a CT scan. Whew...

I fully blame the nurse at my pediatrician's office. When we went for our 12 month check up, she was so surprised that Gavin hadn't landed in the ER yet. The next day started what I will refer to as "hell week". First, I lock my son in the car (read previous post for details). Then, as I was opening a box for Gavin, he loses his balance and falls chin first onto the corner of the box resulting in an ugly, bloody scratch. And then, our trip to the ER.

I guess I should really just blame goofy genetics. I have to prepare myself for a lifetime of bumps, bruises and possibly broken bones...especially since I have a boy.

Silly me...

If any one knows me, they know what an air head I am. It's kinda my M.O. I've always gotten through life thinking that nothing was that big of a deal. Whatever happens, it's OK. There are many examples in my life and things generally turn out fine. For example, one week when Gary was out of town (I think it was the two weeks he was in New Zealand), and I went out in our backyard in my fuzzy slippers and robe to enjoy a cup of coffee. As I closed the back door, I realized that the bottom lock was locked. You know the kind of lock...the one you can open from the inside but locks your ass out on the outside. Yep. So, here I am in my fuzzy slippers and robe with no phone, no spare keys in the country and no dignity. I had an "uh-oh" moment, but wondered what was the worst that could happen? I had to walk to the neighbors in all my fuzzy glory to borrow a phone, to wait for someone to come out and break down my door? But no, to my surprise and horror, our bedroom window was open. I was able to climb through the window without incident. I immediately locked the window.

This Tuesday I had another moment. Quite frankly, I'm surprised it took a year. I locked Gavin in the car...sorta. We were leaving Target, and I put Gavin in his car seat so I could put the groceries in the back of the Tahoe. Gavin wanted to play with my keys, and I was happy to oblige. I finished loading the car only to hear the scariest, most horrible sound in the world. CLICK. Gavin locked himself in the car. I panicked. I pulled his door, and then I pulled it again harder as if that would open it. It still didn't open. I ran to the back and tried to open it, and then I ran to the other side and tried to open that door. No luck. By this time, I'm almost hysterical. I called Gary, and he said he would try to make it to Target as fast as he could. I knew Gavin wouldn't make it (he was starting to cry and look a little warm) I tried to call him and text him to tell him he was never going to make it. But, in his panic (and sprint through the building and the garage) he didn't get the message. What he did get was a ticket for going 72 in a 45. In the meantime, I called 9-1-1. They connected me to the fire department who came to my rescue. Four men pulled up in their giant firetruck, sirens blaring. One gentleman stepped off the truck with an axe. The older, more experienced guy peaked in at Gavin, who grinned as big as he could, and decided he was OK. He was going to call a service to open the door for free. While he was on the phone, another guy walked around the car...and opened the drivers door. Just like that. A few jokes were made, but I laughed awkwardly and got in the car and out of the parking lot as fast as I could. How embarrassing. How horrible! It's scary to think of the worst thing that could have happened. Hopefully, we'll laugh about this one day. And, hopefully, there won't be (many) more of these "uh-oh" moments.