“One day I was unhappy because I didn’t get enough sleep at night because my baby kept me up.”

It’s impossible for me to not compare Kostaya’s first month with Anya’s. The thing is, I don’t really remember all that much from Anya’s first month. I mostly remember me crying and wailing and wearing only pajamas and Anya crying and wailing and wearing only diapers.

Luckily, this first month with Kostaya has held only small amounts of crying or wailing (from either him or me), and it has seen me wearing regular clothes nearly every day. [I set two daily goals for myself: (1) take a shower and (2) wear real clothes. I am a superhero.]

Now, let’s talk about Kostya and clothes. I was so spoiled with Anya being a late spring baby. When we were at home, all she needed was a diaper, and when we went out, she could get by with a onesie. Late fall babies aren’t so lucky. This guy has to wear clothes even at home! And not just a little onsie. Oh no. His poor skinny legs would freeze. He needs pants. AND socks. And the onsies? All those cute little short-sleeved onesies? When he wears them I have to keep a blanket handy so his poor skinny arms won’t freeze. I actually went to the store and bought him a few more pairs of pants. Can you believe that? Or perhaps a better question to ask would be, “Can you believe it didn’t occur to me when looking at all those cute little short-sleeved onsies that this guy was going to be born in NOVEMBER?”

Before any of you kind readers run out to the store to buy this poor kid warm clothes, and before any of you kind readers out there say, “Dude! I bought you warm clothes for that kid!” let me say that as soon as he grows up a size, he will be SET. Pretty much all of you wonderful people who gifted us with clothing gave bigger sizes, and those of you who gave us newborn clothes are the reason this kid had warm clothes at all here at the start. It was all me looking at a huge pile of cute little short-sleeved onesie hand-me-downs thinking we were set. (I hope I haven’t offended anyone who gave us a cute little short-sleeved onesie, because I have been thankful for them, too, since even in late fall we have had some really warm days.)

Aside from contemplating his fashion options, what has this boy been up to in his first month? He has…

– worn more clothes than Anya did her first three months combined,
– timed his poo diapers so Mommy got to change all but one of them,
– taught Mommy the zen art of chair sleeping,
– been licked by a dog,
– attended his first school function,
– dined in two restaurants,
– taken more baths than Anya did her first three months combined (if anyone ever tells you boy parts have fewer places for poo to hide than girl parts, don’t believe them),
– learned to roll from side-to-side when wearing the right diaper,
– perfected his pterodactyl sounds,
– served as an arm rest for Mommy when she crochets, with a built in timer to prevent overuse of hands, and
– learned how to imitate a turtle streeeetttttching its neck out of its shell.

With a little help from Andy, I’ve managed to assemble a workstation that allows me to type (with TWO hands) while holding the tiny pterydactyl. This is a very good thing because, for the most part, he is not happy unless he is reclining on his favorite piece of furniture — me.

Today is his one month birthday, and I want to keep up the tradition we had with Anya of posting a photo and list of tricks learned each month for the first year or so. However, I haven’t taken that picture yet, so you’ll have to wait until at least tomorrow. Or perhaps February. Another reason for not posting the 1 month post yet is because it feels weird to me to write about month one before I write about day one. I’m really big on the chronology.

One thing I’m not really big on is writing a birth story about the pain and the mess and the pushing and the screaming and all that, so I’m not going to. Here’s my story: We went to the hospital, the medical people did medically stuff, a baby appeared, and I ate lime sherbert.

Okay, so you want a few more details than that? He…

– weighed 8 lbs, 14 ounces,
– stretched 21.5 inches long/tall,
– arrived tangled up in umbilical cord and with a hand/arm up by his face,
– had a decent amount of hair, realllllllly long fingers, and freaky vampirically long fingernails and toenails,
– came with a red birthmark on his forehead (which the nurse baby nurse swore would fade — how does she know?),
– and was pimplier-faced than the pimpliest-faced teenager.

Do you notice yet how I am avoiding using a name for the wee one? See, here’s the problem. When you call a person by a name for seven or so months, it’s really, really, really tough to suddenly start calling him by a totally different name. Mostly we are still calling him Bouncy (his pre-birth nickname), but I tend to introduce him to new people as Konstantin (his formal name — which one should use for introductions). Occasionally I call him Kostya (his post-birth nickname), and eventually I will say it and hear it enough times that it begins to feel more normal than Bouncy. Hopefully this will happen before he is a teenager.