I guess child locks technically need to be “locked” in order to keep children out, but feel these pictures do not bode well for their actual childproofness in the future.

So if month 1 is an exhausted blur, month 4 you start to get the hang of things, and month 6 is when you can start buying them all the good toys, month 8 of baby care is when you no longer remember what sitting down feels like. In the past 24 hours, Baby Evan has:

– Eaten a piece of yarn
– Fell on the cat
– Pulled the recycling can over on top of himself
– Dumped all the dog food out of the bowl
– Ripped up a roll of wrapping paper
– Fallen on his head at least four times
– Hit himself in the face with the baby swing
– Hit me in the face with a baby hammer
– Pinched his hands under the rocking chair
– Tried to put a knitting needle through his ear
– Climbed onto the bottom shelf of the changing table and threw everything on it on the floor

And all of that was before E got home from work. At 2 pm. I picked the wrong month to (re)give up Diet Coke…unless I’m planning to replace it with speed. Or maybe breastmilk, because apparently it makes you super strong – the better to hit you in the face my dear – and super fast – the better to escape the confines of the baby gate. This afternoon while I was unloading the car Baby Evan actually managed to push the back door open a couple inches and was seconds away from falling right out onto the (cement) back porch face first. As much as I DON’T love his sharp little baby teeth, I think it’s better if we keep them intact for at least a few more years. He may actually need them for eating something someday. Not now, or tomorrow, or probably next week, but some day. I mean, he can’t exclusively nurse forever, right? NO baby has ever survived entirely on breastmilk until kindergarten…right? RIGHT??

So besides the violent puking, thrashing, gagging and general crankiness regarding solid food (or really, anything besides milk straight from the boob – still no bottles, cups, spoons, shot glasses or straws either) let’s see how he’s hitting his 8 month milestones:

Mastered Skills (most kids can do):
• Says “mama” and “dada” to both parents (isn’t specific) – No, not really. We’ve both heard “dada” or “daddy” but nothing even close to mama, unless High Pitched Screeching Velociraptor Noise is what he plans to call me.
• Passes objects from hand to hand – Check.

Emerging Skills (half of kids can do):
• Stands while holding onto something – Lord does he ever, and he gets there on his own. The couch, the chair, the rocker, my leg, his play table, the baby gate, the handle on the stove, the dishwasher, your mom. Anything.
• Crawls – He finally got the hang of real crawling, which means my plan to tape a Swiffer cloth to his stomach is out.
• Points at objects – Meh? He reaches, but there’s no actual finger pointing.
• Searches for hidden objects – Do immaginary objects count? He is totally convinced I am hiding something WONDERFUL and DELICIOUS under the rug and one of these days he is definitely going to find it.

Advanced Skills (a few kids can do):
• Pulls self to standing, cruises – See above for “pulls self up”. But he’s finally got the hang of cruising, although sometimes he forgets he has to move BOTH legs and unintentionally ends up doing a very impressive center split.
• Picks things up with thumb-finger pincer grasp – Then shoves them in his mouth, then throws up. Really awesome.
• Indicates wants with gestures – Not so much “gestures” as EAR-PIERCING SCREAMS. I took the disgusting car keys he was gnawing on away from him in Target yesterday and the noise he made sounded so much like the fire alarm he almost cleared the building. I hope he gets the hang of gestures soon.

Speaking of gestures, I’ve been meaning to watch that Baby Signs DVD my friend Amanda let me borrow and get started on making Baby Evan into a genius child. Or at least a child who understands the word “no” or “danger” or “for the love of GOD STOP PUTTING THAT IN YOUR MOUTH”. I felt a little silly signing to a baby that clearly didn’t understand the difference between actual sign language and crazy hand waving, but at this point I think I need to either really make an effort or just forget about it all together. I should at least teach him the sign for “nurse” – he’s GOT to understand that one at this point.

We’re going to get our tree tomorrow (weather permitting) and then I’ll attempt some family holiday pictures in which everyone is showered, dry, dressed and happy. It’s going to take a Christmas miracle. I need to get our holiday photo cards ordered ASAP so there’s a chance they’ll arrive before Christmas. I’m going to call my mailing skillz successful if they at least make it before 2009, especially considering last year’s cards are still in my desk.

Just in case I can’t manage to take a family picture in which I look less than whale sized nice, E and I took Baby Evan to the mall for his first picture with the man in red. Because we want to make sure he has plenty of stuff to talk to his therapist about some day. Please enjoy my Santa Baby.

P.S. He was a really good Santa – real beard and belly and ho ho ho – except that after we took the pic he told us the best part of being Santa was when the hot college girls sat in his lap. Bad Santa.

Baby Evan is finally at the age where he’s starting to notice the television and it is making me a very sad panda. With a list of reasons kids shouldn’t watch tv as long as my arm and the revelation that even Baby Einstein is more like Baby Paris Hilton I fear it may be time to kick my viewing addiction habit. Or at least cut back. A little. Maybe.

If I was the kind of parent I feel like I SHOULD be, we would pack up this 60-inch monstrosity dominating our family room right now and I would spend my days listening to classical music while reading Voltaire (in the original French) aloud while Baby Evan recites his Latin verbs and colors inside the lines of his Art of the Masters coloring book. But first I need to find out what happened on Glee. And who wins Top Chef. And whether or not Tyra’s models will ever learn to smile with their eyes. And if this guy spins $1.00 on the big wheel. And if Chandler and Monica ever get married. Ok I know that last one but all those Friends reruns aren’t going to watch themselves.

We’re never going to be a tv-free family and I’m comfortable with that decision. I’m not using the tv as a babysitter for my 8 month old. I’m not relying on Dora or the Teletubbies or Barney to teach him the alphabet. I just need to find a balance between using television as a constant background noise to keep me from feeling isolated during the day and making sure Baby Evan’s first words aren’t “THIS….is American Idol!”

Last night I was having a lovely talk with an old high school friend when he mentioned someone we used to know was teaching college while working on her doctorate. While also raising two daughters. By herself. Now, this is someone I remember best as getting in trouble for sneaking her boyfriend INTO her house after getting grounded for sneaking OUT of her house. Our deepest conversation ever was a lesson in visible panty lines. And did I mention she’s younger than I am? The whole situation just made me feel like I was staring at a giant sign that says “Welcome to Inadequacyville! Population: YOU”.

No matter how much I love being a mom – especially a stay at home mom – it just doesn’t feel like an accomplishment. You don’t have to be smart to have a baby. In fact, stupidity really seems to work in reproduction’s favor COUGH16andpregnantCOUGH. Sure it may be hard to be a GOOD mom but you don’t get any fancy letters after your name for the three hours you spent caring for a sick baby last night or your infinite patience cleaning up spit-up or the pain you went through for the sake of breastfeeding. Ok SURE you get a happy, (mostly) healthy, well-adjusted child but the only people who really appreciate that are their teachers, future spouse and the person who sits next to them at work some day. Blah. Would anyone even notice if all I wrote for the rest of this post is whine whine whine complain complain so ungrateful for all I have annoying self absorption whine whine whiiiine?

This is why the only people who look forward to their high school reunions are Bill Gates and Barack Obama.