Yesterday was Roark’s four month check up, and he passed with flying colors. He is still a chunk and is weighing in at 19.6 lbs. When he’s in my arms, I swear it feels like he’s carrying cement in his britches.
I didn’t record his length, but he’s still holding onto his place in the 95th percentile. This is not a bit surprising to me since he’s outgrows his clothes the instant I put something new on him.
Life for Roark is pretty sweet these days, even though he routinely likes to fuss about it. Someone has told him that you don’t get noticed in our house unless you speak up, and he has grasped this concept completely. I blame it on teeth coming in or just boredom, but I think Ken is convinced it’s just to irritate him. If that’s so, Roark’s plan is working remarkably well.
Besides his love for the changing table, he now loves the bathtub too. He lays on his back and thrashes his arms and legs around, splashing water, and smiling when it hits him in the face. It’s so cute that most times he has an audience of three standing over him, watching him play.
I love that he now responds to my voice. All I have to say is “Hey Roarkus” in a sing song-y voice, and he immediately grins from ear to ear. This makes me smile back at him, and I begin to talk even more like an idiot. Before I know it, half an hour has passed, and I still haven’t finished changing his diaper because I am too busy munching on his belly and listening to him giggle with delight.
Recently he has opened the floodgates and started letting the drool pour out. I blame this partly on the love affair he has with his hands. He is constantly sucking on them…fingers, knuckles, thumbs. He’s not picky. He just wants a hand in his mouth at all times and will shoot a pacifier across the room to get to one.
The drool thing, though, is pretty gross. I have been spoiled in the past because Edie never spit-up or drooled. However, if I hold Roark for a moment, I’ll pull him away only to realize that my shoulder has been slimed. I wish I could remember to grab burp clothes everywhere I go. But that request is on a long list of things I wish I could remember to do and don’t.
We are finally getting some rest in our house, and our nights are pretty quiet. Roark is still waking around 4:00 a.m. to feed, and I’m okay with that. This has become a special time between the two of us. We sit in the quiet, and I enjoy him in a way I can’t during the day. I focus on him and let him wrap his little fingers around mine. I rock him and shush him, while there is no Phineas & Ferb playing in the background or a sister trying to give him kisses with her feet. It’s just the two of us being still and quiet in the night. This is one of the sweetest moments in my day, and it won’t be long before I’ll be talking about how much I miss it.