The Hauer Family

For 262 days Jack has been barefoot, socked, double-socked and bootied (yea, so only one of those is a real word, hush). And on the 263rd day, he wore shoes. His very own pair of Robeez, size 3, from Stride Rite.

I must say, they make the outfit. Such a little boy! He’s glad we aren’t holding out on him any longer. And, they have successfully put an end to the “let’s take off my socks” game.

Tangent: Before you make your very own trip to Stride Rite at Springhurst, be forewarned that the store is so small it can only fit one stroller – don’t even think about bringing a double-wide – and about 5 small people, perhaps 6, if you are strategically placed. 

The months are blurring. I suppose that is why we do this blog…of course, that only works if you remember to write — and post. And, really, if you forget to capture the moment, they move on to the “next big thing” so quickly that you forget the awesomeness of milestones past.

Remembering back, here’s what I do know:

• weight check had you back in the 10th percentile. Watch out.
• had to purchase 12-18 month onesies for the photo shoot – belly doesn’t fill it out but those long arms sure do
• food was not your thing: except for oatmeal
• no more bathseat
• you actually started listening and paying attention to books
• made the move to formula full time on January 2
• first “sick day”; weathered a 102 fever for 36 hours. thankfully for mommy, daddy was able to stay home with you
• soak through about 3 bibs a day without any additional teeth to show for it
• sleep is back. yay!

“jack…jack…no, sit…jack…sit…jack”

over. and over. and over.

this is the winner.

It was a pretty uneventful Saturday… until this happened…

Aunt Laura and Uncle Nick were over earlier in the afternoon and I believe the words “he’s going to take off pretty soon” came out of her mouth and, therefore, obviously jinxed us all. No less than an hour later, he saw the PlayStation controller and headed for it. After baiting him with it we were able to capture it on video.

Hard to believe just a couple weeks ago we were in awe of his ability to scoot himself backwards; I suspect the fact that it wasn’t getting him anywhere fast led us to today’s events.

Where you going? Nowhere.

Jack, thank you for saving this milestone for a Saturday so we could witness it. Now stay out of my stuff.

In an attempt to catalog the more mundane yet amusing moments of life, a new blog section: for the record.

For the record: between the hours of 3am and 7am the following things actually happened:

– the kid screamed his head off because he figured out how to sit up in his crib, but couldn’t figure out how to lie back down #smart

– the 55lb dog was found curled up in a boot shoe box in the back of the closet #timeforathundershirt

– received a call from my mom, who is in England at the moment, wondering what size bathing suit she should buy Jack #seriously

7:15 in the evening

is the most magical time.

And hello to plastic, battery-operated toys in a variety of colors.

Before we get into the cuteness, let it be said that I came down with a lovely case of the stomach flu on Wednesday, so my participation in the Christmas festivities was slim to none. Unless you count getting our money’s worth out of Netflix. Thankful for houses full of doting grandparents, uncles, aunts – and, most importantly, Bill – for allowing me to rest and recuperate.

The schedule was packed:

• Grandma and Grandpa Hauer’s house was up first.
• Christmas Eve service at Springdale. Laura and Nick came over to our house for dinner, continuing the Christmas Eve tradition of Indian food.
• Christmas morning at home.
• Christmas day at Nana and Granda Stothard’s house.

At none of these places did we get a picture of us as a family. Seriously. We did get plenty of pictures of the little man though.

Suffice to say the little yellow canvas bin that has been housing Jack’s toys for the past 7 months will no longer do. We’ve entered the land of walkers, blocks, playmats, cars, and funny little singamajigs. All of which cannot be hidden easily. Next project: playroom.

What do you mean it’s not Christmas yet?

You’re telling me it’s next Sunday?

Why am I up so early?

Here we are. Officially 7 months in. A lot has happened since the last monthly check-in:

• having 3 bottles of formula a day — helps mama out and hopefully will get a little meat on his bones prior to weight check in January
• no longer content sitting; now we have started the hands down, rocking back and forth, toppling-over fun that only leads to one thing: crawling.
• first case of diaper rash; thankfully it only lasted a day. guess that goes with the additional use of disposables.
• makes what amounts to a “pfftth” sound all. the. time. it’s quite adorable until he has food in his mouth and said food goes everywhere.
• owns a highchair. goodbye bumbo. goodbye living on the edge.
• is about 3 baths away from finishing the first 8 oz. bottle of Burt’s Bees shampoo & body wash
• loves him some oatmeal
• laughs at everything, except when he’s hungry; then he is just angry
• the jumper is now a jumper instead of just somewhere where he hangs out
• makes this “come here” motion with his hands
• has figured out that arms-up means someone will come to you and pick you up

But enough of the words; here’s the little man in action.

ralphie's other brother

Happy 7 month birthday sweet thing.

You are loved.

We are blessed.

The annual hunt for the Hauer family Christmas tree commenced early morning December 3.  Destination: Scottsburg, IN – Leota Tree Farm. There were promises of Christmas trees, hay rides, reindeer and a potbelly pig. There were all of those things. Only one issue, Clark Griswold and I insist on chopping down our own tree. And all the trees over 2 feet tall were already pre-cut. Sigh. We traipsed around anyhow, just in case there was a decent tree hiding in the far back corner near the mud pit. There was not.

It was at about the mud pit we decided we best start documenting Jack’s first Christmas tree hunt — and it was there we realized we didn’t charge the battery in the camera. Dad was lucky enough to get one shot off before the camera gave in.

So, the tradition of not purchasing a tree at the first tree farm we visit is still in tact.

Back in the car we went. We ended up following a small white sign to “xmas trees” about a mile off the road — ending at Kelley Robbins nursery. After many years of searching, this may be “the” Christmas tree farm. It was full of trees that were pruned, trimmed and at least 6 feet tall. And, best of all, they were okay with Molly off-leash.

We ended up with an 8-footer of the White Pine variety for $50. No pictures of the hunt due to aforementioned reason; but here it is getting prettied-up.

O, Oh, Oooh Ahhh Christmas Tree.

Tree hunt tradition part 2: Molly got her “annual” bath. All is well. Merry Christmas.