Ollie is now almost 10 months, so I'm going to commemorate 9 months by posting a bunch of pictures from the last month or so.
Here he is dressed as a pixie for one of his little friend's birthday parties.
It truly takes a village. To keep Ollie's Plumber Crack under wraps, that is. That's Nelwyn doing her duty. Here you can see his little ragamuffin pixie elf wings. I know, elves don't have wings. But Oliver = Elf Army, so we had to allow for his elven nature.
wearing a cape at another friend's birthday party. You should know that after this picture was taken, he was totally, painfully uninterested in the hippie play silks and only wanted to play with the plastic, electronic talking ride-on car. Le sigh. I can only do so much.
on Jack's porch
his new hobbies are: standing on everything, and screaming and screeching at the top of his lungs until he starts coughing. awesome!
I have way more, but Flickr Uploader kept crashing (as usual). I even managed to take some nice portraits of him this week, in the rare split seconds in between lurching towards the camera or crawling off towards electrical outlets. One day! This time I won't delete them from the camera until they're good and backed up.
In other news, Ollie is currently recovering from a bout of The Pukes. It was pretty bad - fever, severe dehydration, etc., and it involved the quintessential middle-of-the-night ER trip wherein I pretty much fended off their crazy interventions with a stick. Formula! Catheter! Anal tylenol! Actually, we let them do the anal tylenol. At least he wouldn't barf it up. Pretty soon he was all better and flirting with the nurses again, who were all, "you wash those diapers YOURSELF?" No, my servant does.
I was kind of alarmed at the lack of a system for getting ER patients a breast pump. Their reasoning for the formula was that they only wanted him to eat a small amount - 2 ounces. I then said, "you know, I can express breast milk!" Enlightened by what seemed like BRAND NEW INFORMATION, they looked into getting a pump and bottles down to us. By the time we left 6 hours later, the pump still hadn't arrived. And the best part was that as they were telling me that my only option was formula, the doctor was all, "don't get me wrong, we love breast feeding!" When we all came to terms with the fact that the pump wasn't coming, they finally just allowed me to nurse him for 2 minutes at a time. Whatever. I highly doubt that I have enacted or inspired any change there. The only thing they probably weened from the event was that Julia is a dirty hippie.
Oh well. All (seems to be) well now.
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