No Milk Please!

I am finally starting to catch my breath at the end of this crazy, stressful week. Tuesday Max decided to wean himself. From everything. He wouldn't nurse, wouldn't take formula, and wouldn't take cow's milk (he despises all things dairy). After two and a half days of his milk strike, I rushed him to the pediatrician. I was in a major panic because I thought he was going to die. They carefully examined every inch of his body and pronounced him to be in perfect health.

The doctor gave me a very interesting speech stating that cows are a different species than us and we really don't need to drink their milk. He went on to say that we are the only country that gives cow's milk to our children after they are weaned, and that most humans on the earth don't drink it. All we need is food and water. He also said that American children drink too much cow's milk and that it causes a lot of problems such as anemia, ear infections, asthma, diabetes, etc. Who knew?

I have been doing research about milk since and it turns out that there are lots of problems with it. What concerns me most is that 89% of the dairy herds in the United States have cows infected with leukemia. The infected milk is pooled with non-infected milk, but luckily the leukemia virus is rendered inactive by pasteurisation, if done correctly. Don't drink raw milk!

Today I made pesto for lunch in celebration of the end of this miserable week. It could quite possibly be my favorite food. It reminds me of the summers of childhood when we would go out to the garden to pick basil so we could eat fresh pesto for lunch. Max(he who eats only oatmeal) gobbled up the pesto as I watched with my jaw hanging open in shock and awe. I guess it makes sense, I ate so much of it during pregnancy that he was probably swimming in it in utero.

Security Sock?

Max loves socks. Lately he has been taking this blue one with him wherever he goes. He doesn't want anything to do with pacifiers, "blankies", stuffed animals...but socks he likes. We don't get it, but we laugh every time we see him crawling around with one.


Yesterday I was folding laundry and he climbed into the basket and started throwing things out. As soon as he found one of J-P's socks he shrieked in delight and crawled away with it as fast as he could.

If only I could get him to keep them on his feet!

Crazy Days

We knew Max was strong when the nurse couldn't hold his leg down to give him his PKU test when he was 2 weeks old. We knew he was really strong at four months when it took 4 people (including J-P) to hold him down for head X-rays when he cracked his skull. We had to re-do the X-rays several times because they were blurry from his protest wiggling. Now he is stronger than me. Sad, I know. I can't hold him down to change his diaper. He manages to wiggle free and crawl away every time, even though I am using my whole body to pin him down. Bath time is even more impossible. I can't hold him still long enough to wash anything, and I spend most of the time trying to stop him from crawling out of the tub.


The latest news is that Max and I are both iron deficient. I guess all of that iron fortified oatmeal isn't doing it's job. We are also in the painful process of weaning. Max is losing weight and I am freaking out as my milk is drying up and he is refusing to take a bottle. He has sunk down to the 95th percentile for weight, and his once too-tight pants are now falling off of him. Yesterday a lady came up to me and said, "it sure looks like you're starving him." I almost burst into tears. I wanted to explain that it wasn't my fault, but I tried to be gracious and smiled. Then she started pinching his cheeks and I breathed a sigh of relief as I realized she was being sarcastic. At least I hope she was. I felt even better when someone else came up and asked if he was 2 years old.

Anyway, there will be lots of red meat in store for this closet vegetarian... If you have any good recipes, send them my way. All tips on getting your baby to take a bottle are welcome as well.

9 month update

(if you have an email subscription to Max's updates, just scroll down to the previous entries for the latest haps at Chez Scoville)


There is one word that can be used to describe Max this month: picky. He is so particular. What is he particular about? Let’s start with books. Thanks to friends and family, Max has a large collection of books. Sadly, he only likes 8 of them. We call it his top 8. If we try to read Max a book that is not on his top 8, he throws a tantrum like a two-year-old. The good news is I have them all memorized. Word for word. If you want to hear “Hop on Pop” Mary Ann-style, just give me a call. I’m pretty good.

Max’s caretaker of choice is J-P. He loves his “da da da da.” If J-P walks into the room and doesn’t go directly to Max to pick him up, he starts wailing like his heart is broken. If J-P puts him down, he cries. If J-P leaves the room, he cries. If J-P ignores him, he cries. If I am holding him and he can see J-P, he starts flapping his arms and squealing in delight. If I don’t hand him over to his dad…you guessed it, he cries.

Max is very picky about food. In fact, he is an oatmealitarian. He will eat oatmeal until he throws up. Our pediatrician pointed out that overeating was probably causing his vomiting episodes, not the stomach flu. At one point we were even suspicious that bulimia was a hobby of his. One of his favorite activities includes, but is not limited to: sticking his fingers down his throat and making loud, dramatic gagging noises. I think he loves to see me jump up and run to him with panic in my eyes because as soon as I pull his hand out he starts laughing his head off.

Thanks to some coaxing from his crawling coach (me, the second favorite), Max started cruising on all fours a few days before his 9 month birthday. I’m sure he is so glad to be done with my daily crawling therapy. Now it’s time for walking, I bet he can’t wait for those lessons.

Arizona is hot. Today we hit the 90’s. That means we are counting down to pool time! Aside from the sizzle, J-P and I are doing well. We hardly get to see J-P because he is traveling so much for work. On the bright side, we won’t have to buy shampoo for, like, the next five years—our stockpile of hotel toiletries is ginormous.

Until next month,

Mary Ann, J-P, and Max.

Desert Living

It's been a long week. Max and I have been trying to survive without J-P since he has been travelling for work. I have been inexplicably exhausted and as soon as I can get Max down for bed I grab a magazine and veg to an episode of Lost or Get Color. Somehow I feel more productive if I'm folding laundry, eating dinner, reading a magazine, and watching T.V. at the same time. Sometimes I wish guys (I won't mention any names) could multi-task the way I can. I really believe it is a talent.

The good news: summer is here. It was a beautiful 85 degrees yesterday. We had a grand ol' time running barefoot in the park, eating hamburgers, and chewing the fat with friends at our ward BBQ last night. I really love living in Arizona. The bad news: our desert vegetation is dead. We had a freak freeze this winter and it killed every lovely thing living in our landscape. The only thing that survived is the one thing that I wanted to die: our white oleander. I am so paranoid about it that I won't let J-P prune it because I'm afraid it will kill him. There have been adults who have died from roasting hot dogs on oleander branches.

The palms by the pool didn't make it, we are hoping they come back. You can also see views of the dead Hibiscus and Bougainvillea.

Who knew a freeze could kill a cactus.

It got the best of our Aloe as well...

Our rocks made it.

So did the agave. It's my favorite plant. I love the color.

We are off to Home Depot right now to get some tomato, basil, and zucchini plants for the garden. Then we are off to mow the lawn and have a planting party. It's finally warm enough to plant the lemon and orange trees that have been patiently parked on our patio.

New Hairstyle

J-P gets Max ready for church every week. It's always interesting to see what clothing ensemble he comes up with. We usually get in a brief argument about why it's important to wear matching socks, or long sleeves when it's cold outside. I explain that red and white socks just don't go with a blue and green striped shirt. J-P tells me it really doesn't matter. I say "it matters to me" and he is off with a huff and a puff to make the change. Today J-P decided that it was time to give Max a little style, so he wet a brush and gave him a comb-over. He must have thought he did a pretty good job because I just found these pics on the camera.


Check out the long eyelashes. They are longer than ours already. Who knows where he got them...


He just woke up from a nap so he is still looking a little somber. The red mark on his cheek is a battle wound from "crying it out" last night. It's working though, he slept 11 hours Friday, and only cried for a little bit last night around midnight.

Here sure is happy when he gets good sleep!

Who needs sleep?

Last night I decided to let Max cry it out...again. We have let him cry it out so many times, and it works, at least for a couple of days. Right now I feel like a horrible parent who tortures their child in the selfish hopes that I can get some extra hours of much needed sleep. The whole time he cries I'm online googling every baby sleep solution out there to ease my conscience, make sure I'm doing the right thing. My brain is so foggy from the incessant howling that all the letters on the screen seem blurry and my head feels like it is going to explode. What should I do? Am I traumatizing him for life, am I impeding his brain development by exposing him to all those stress hormones? Oh, the guilt.
Max used to be a great sleeper. In fact we were bragging to the doctor at his 6 week appointment that he was sleeping 8 consecutive hours at night. Such proud parents we were...I suppose we jinxed ourselves. Now he is so stubborn, he fights sleep like it is public enemy #1. Even after he "cries it out" he just plays and babbles in his crib. He is exhausted and his eyes are huge black holes, but he will not surrender to sleep.

The problem with letting him cry is that we have to keep up a constant surveillance. He bangs his head, gets tangled in the crib slats, chokes, etc. Unfortunately J-P is dead to the world at night. Completely useless. The responsibility is all mine, but last night I couldn't take it. I needed his help. I shook him as hard as I could, got his attention and explained the situation. "I can't take this crying anymore, what should I do...should I just feed him?" J-P cleared his throat and in a very business-like tone said "Well, I guess that depends on the structural compartments of his civil authority." Brilliant. Why do I even bother?...and before I could finish my thought he was snoring again. I started laughing because it was the only thing I could do to keep from crying. Finally Max cried himself into the oblivion of sleep and I went back to bed. The lyrics to this BNL song played over and over in my head until I fell asleep.

Here is pic of Max sleeping through the night at 5 weeks. I turned the flash off so I wouldn't wake him up. He was so big he almost filled the whole pack n play. He outgrew the bassinet at 2 weeks, but we weren't ready to move him to his room so that's where he slept.

Free to a Good Home

I can't take it anymore, I need my garage back! I can't take the anxiety of parking on the sinkhole that resides under my driveway. Very soon it will be a thousand degrees out in Arizona and Max and I will pass out upon entering a vehicle with an internal temp of 145.

Where did I get this beast? It is one of many things I've inherited through marriage. Some things I don't mind, like the big screen TV. That can stay. So can the Tivo. I'm sorry to say the 1967 Landcruiser and expensive electric guitar will not share the same fate. I asked J-P the other day why he would spend $1500 on a fancy electric guitar when he doesn't even know how to play and there are starving children in Africa. His reply, "I wanted to learn." Ebay here I come. I'm cleaning out the closets and there's no turning back.

The Landcruiser, unfortunately, his been sitting on Craigslist for months. It's next to impossible to sell a car without air conditioning in Arizona. For this reason, it's free to the first person who will come pick it up. There is not much time, you have to hurry and come get it before my husband gets home from work and deletes this post!