I claim this mouth in the name of incisor!

Every night Paudie gets really pink cheeks. We're not sure if it's teething or he's just warm or what it is but it's pretty damn cute if you ask me. Between the cheeks and the crazy long lashes, he's pretty glamorous.

Given Paudie's proclivity towards wanting to chew, clearly his gums must be sore. The other night he was crying and miserable and making odd faces that we interpreted as gum pain so we busted out the baby orajel and within seconds of me applying the smallest amount he fell sleep. Must be good stuff. Like I always say... better living through chemistry.

In other Paudie news, he had a decent bath Saturday because he was scheduled to have his photo taken Sunday. The photog cancelled due to illness and the first thing we thoughts was, damn, what a waste of a bath. I know, babies are supposed to love baths and get all sleepy etc. Paudie tolerates his baths and that's about as far as it goes. And I can't say I blame him. It's humiliating having to bathe in the kitchen sink. The hardest thing about giving him a bath is getting under the fat rolls of his neck and armpits and into the palms of his hands. You wouldn't believe what accumulates in those places. The other day I pried open his fist and there was a little plastic piece stuck in there, the kind used to adhere price tags to clothes.

The raspberries are still a big hit and the child still refuses to roll-over. I am trying not to worry about him missing that milestone for 4 months. I look at it like... it's not that he can't roll-over, he just has no interest. I don't think he yet understands the purpose it would serve. He's quite happy being able to see everything that is going on even if that means a slightly mis-shapen head from spending all his time laying on it. We try to work with him to accomplish the roll-over and if anyone were to hear the goings on, they would think we were training a dog.

Paudie gets baptized this weekend. We'll see if I hold it together. I know I will have flashbacks to our first son's funeral, which I don't remember much about since I was so deep in thought about his baptism which had been held at the same church only 6 months earlier. All I kept thinking about was how on that day, with all the 'welcoming' rhetoric, I assumed my son's life would be measured in decades, not months.

Some days I think... clearly we were chosen to be made an example of. I don't even bother with the 'why' anymore. I just try and accept it as fact.