Sunny Side Up: Happy Birthday, Owen!

So yes, it is a couple of days past Owen's birthday. Do I get a pass because he was born 5 weeks early? Do I get a pass because I'm in the midst of my busiest year ever?

Ooh, cake.

So Owen's birthday was a couple of days ago, or shall I call it Avery's Second Christmas? Because all of the presents? She pretty much opened. There was no stopping her, she was like a ravenous present beast. But she is sharing his presents with him, sort of, so there's that.

Owen continues to be adorable and good-natured. He's crawling up a storm and decided one day that stairs were made for climbing, so climb he does. And of course, Avery likes to encourage it, so if he even thinks about the stairs somewhere in his baby brain, never mind if he's actually going that direction, Avery is heading there: "Owen's going to the stairs!" as she climbs up herself and encourages him to follow. One day I had to throw a diaper away and I told Avery to yell if he got to the stairs. I know he's a speedy little demon, so I literally ran to perform the diaper task. Avery yelled alright, but by the time I got there the little guy was on the third stair. You'd think we'd get a baby gate or something.

Yes, that is drool on my chin. I still drool less than my sister.

Like Avery, Owen loved the inchworm mode of transportation for a long time, but at long last he turned it into a real crawl. He totally blew the theory that the second child does everything faster...he took longer than Avery did by a few days. For the longest time he would crawl a foot, army crawl, do a downward dog, and a few belly flops to get to where he wanted to go. And as inefficient as that sounds and was, he got to be quite fast. He reminded me of a little zombie, dragging his way to his next victim. Now he's truly crawling like he's been doing it his whole life, like it's no big deal, finding his next victim with ease. His victims are always The Dangerous Thing in the Room. I don't even know how it's possible that in a room full of toys, babies will find the one thing that they shouldn't, like a long piece of thread and then shove it hurriedly into their little mouths.

Now he's graduated to pulling himself up on everything and taking a few steps along the couch, so he'll be cruising on land before long. He just has to figure out how to get his butt back down to the ground.

He's also starting to show more of his little personality, and while he's laid back, he's forming opinions and preferences, oh yes. He loves the bath, and forces me to alligator wrestle him to bathe him. I usually throw him and Aves in together, so I try to minimize his kicking to minimize his splashing Avery in the face, which is impossible, so all three of us end up drenched. He loves it, and kicks madly before rolling over and splashing a few times and then getting an eye, ear and mouth full of water. Drives me bonkers, but he's so pleased with the whole experience.

Owen hits his birthday party limit.

The new crawling experience means that his sleep gets interrupted by crawling practice. Every time I go in his room in the night, which is often, I know exactly where his little head will be. It's like he's got an internal compass, because even in the pitch dark of night, he angles himself directly toward the door, no matter which way I put him down. And boy howdy, the non-sleep. With illness, I'll just say that the sleep got way off track. My awesome sleeper turned into an overnight nightmare only worse because a nightmare means you're actually SLEEPING, which we weren't. So for his birthday, after his 12-month well-baby visit that declared him ear-infection free, he got a little dose of crying. As opposed as I am to the ignore-the-crying baby philosophy, it did earn me one of the best nights I've had in months. I only got up three times! It's sad that that's truly a good--nay, amazing--night of sleep.

Making sure mama's following.

He loves his big sister, although he fears her. Which is necessary. So at least he's got some good survival instincts. He's got the cutest little face scrunch.