Happy Birthday, Natertot!

Two years ago today, Sara gave birth to Nate. It was a long labor (18 hours), and by the time he actually popped out, it was late (about 10:30PM).

He came out a screamer, which Sara’s mom thought was funny, but we were too tired to appreciate it. Lucky for us, that first night he slept great, barely crying, and providing no clues of the horrible 4 months in store for us.

After that first night, Nate was up randomly throughout the night, didn’t sleep well during the day, and only did more to develop his lungs. He can still let out a piercing scream if you try to put him in his chair and he really, really doesn’t want to eat dinner because OH MY GOD DID YOU KNOW THERE’S AN OUTSIDE TO THIS HOUSE? WITH GRASS?

He’s since developed into one of my favorite people. In the last two years we’ve helped teach and watched him learn to eat, crawl, walk, talk, dance, splash, throw, run, jump, laugh, give hugs, demand kisses, request cake at every meal, bark, meow, squawk, ribbit, tickle, knock on doors, and sleep in his own bed.

He absorbs a lot more than we give him credit for, and every day one of us asks, “how did he know that?”

Happy birthday, Natertot. Hopefully this year we figure out how to use a toilet and get those sentences down. Cause and effect might come shortly after. Who knows.

And the obligatory birthday party pic:

Nate’s Wedding Debut

Two weekends ago, Nate and I were lucky enough to be in Cookseys’ wedding (that’s right, it’s plural now, because there’s two of them). I was a groomsman; Nate was the ring bearer.

Traveling with little kids is tricky. Nate moved into a big kid bed only about 2 months ago, so going to a hotel room or a friend’s house (thanks Meezies!) is scary to him. You have to coax him into going down for the night, and naps are really hard to get at all.

Since the wedding was at night, we decided we’d have to work to tire him out, hopefully give him sufficient time for a nap, and then he’d be good at the wedding. So we took him swimming.

The pool was freezing. Sara didn’t stay in very long, and opted to hang out with Evie, poolside, instead. This meant that I spent an hour with Nate in the pool, so I was his hands-down favorite for the day.

Our plan for tiring him out was moderately successful, and the little guy slept for about an hour as we drove in a loop through a neighborhood in Irving. About the time he woke up, it was time to head to the chapel to get dressed and take pictures.

I don’t think anyone’s quite sure when it happened, but after a while in the chapel, Nate decided he needed to be attached to me. If I put him down, he was grabbing my leg and crying. He didn’t want crackers or a toy, just his daddy.

This would all be fine, except for the quickly arriving ceremony, where I’m supposed to be standing up at the chapel – sans Nate – and he’s supposed to walk up to me and then walk back to hang out with Sara. As we were called to get into positions, Sara decided to take the Natertot off by himself so he could get over some of his poorly timed separation anxiety.

So after we all walked up to the front of the chapel, it was time to let Nate loose. Sara released him from the back of the chapel, and the poor guy looked lost. After he was about ten feet in, I walked in front of Cooksey to try to persuade him to come up front. He noticed the hundred and fifty or so people in the room, and saw me at the altar, but was so tired and upset (though not crying) that he just drifted up to the front.

He finally got to me, and I picked him up, and everything was good again. But (being anal and thinking that, you know, everyone should be in their positions), I motioned Sara over to the side of the chapel so she’d be able to take Nate into the pews.

That didn’t work.

At all.

Nate freaked out, began to scream, so I did as Sara directed and picked him back up. I ended up holding him through the bridal procession and the opening prayer and message.

It was a Catholic wedding, so they were nice enough to let the bridal party sit during most of the ceremony. So I was sitting in the pews and, to the left of me, brushing up against me, was Nate, kicking his legs back and forth and bouncing and pointing to the stained glass windows to tell me that they’re bright. Meezy was sitting to Nate’s left, so he’d occasionally get the leg pat and the same message.

It was great. What started out stressful (this is just how I think, I can’t help it) turned into one of my favorite memories of Nate so far, with us both in tuxes and him eating goldfish and holding his newly acquired tiger from the Fort Worth Zoo while bopping his head back and forth to church music. Every time he noticed something he’d try to tell me about it, and I’d have to say “shhh,” but I was laughing the whole time.

There’s not that many years of that kind of innocence and unadulterated affection, and I’m thrilled that I wasn’t too dumb to keep from looking up and noticing it.

Here, for the record, is how cool we looked:

All dressed up, ready to go