Well, we're already behind. I can see it now... Jake will be asked years later why he never did anything with his life. His sorrowful response will be, "Well, I never had a reason to. You see, my mom didn't get me on a waiting list for the preschool in time, so I've just failed out of everything since."
Okay, so it's not that big a deal. However, I did find out some new information that shows just how unprepared we are for the academic experience. The private elementary school where we plan to send Jake has a waiting list such that kids have to be signed up by their 2nd birthday. Okay, a bit steep, but no rush, right? Well, the private elementary school has its own preschool program for the kids to take when they're 4 years old. The preschool feeds into the elementary
program, so it's advisable to sign up for the preschool if you plan to send your child to the elementary school.
NOW I've found out that there's a pre-preschool program that feeds into the preschool program. I kid you not. Jake would enter the pre-preschool program at the ripe old age of 3 to prepare for the rigorous coursework of the preschool program. So, it follows that if you want your child to attend the elementary school, he must first attend the preschool, for which he must first attend the pre-preschool. I don't think my vector calculus class in college was quite this complicated.
The sad thing is that the pre-preschool program seems to have more stringent admissions standards than my old college of engineering did. Firstly, we were supposed to put Jake on the waiting list at birth. Seeing as how he's already a year old, I don't know whether they'll even consider the application. Secondly, the number of enrollment slots for morning and afternoon sessions is 16, for a total enrollment of 32 children. And that's only if they have enough staff to handle that many kids; there's a probability that it could be even less.
Finally, the admissions policy states that "Independent toileting skills are desirable." We all know that means if Jake waddles into the admissions interview in pull-ups, he'll be politely passed over. Can I really promise that 2 years from now, having never attempted such a feat before, that Jake and I will have successfully finished toilet training? I read the "Girlfriend's Guide to Toddlers", and laughed over the section where the author concealed her daughter's lack of toilet skills by sending her to nursery school with big-girl panties pulled on over top of the pull-ups, and a nice fluffy skirt to conceal the whole thing. Now I'm wondering if Dan would object to the addition of kilts to Jake's wardrobe.
Worst of all is my realization that the main reason for sending Jake to the private school is that most of his buddies from playgroup will also be attending there. I thought it would be nicer for Jake to start school knowing that he already had friends in his class. (Plus the school does have a really good academic standing.) Right now though, all the hopeful expectations of all the playgroup mommies, including myself, seem particularly fragile. What happens if the other kids get in and Jake doesn't? What happens if Jake gets in and his friends don't? Neither prospect seems very pleasant; I think I might cry either way. Private school boasts many things, including higher test scores, better environment, less disruption and violence. But the one thing it doesn't have is inclusiveness. And that seems like a hard lesson to learn when you're only 3 years old.
Sunday, August 12, 2007
Sunday, August 5, 2007
Gulping and Galloping
MILK MALAISE
My husband and I have survived probably the biggest disappointment in our parenting experience thus far. Our precious, wonderful little boy.... has developed an intolerance to milk.
I should start with a conversation with a friend of mine in our playgroup. We were at her house, discussing the introduction of milk into our little ones' diet. Her little boy had problems with digesting milk, and I was sympathizing and lamenting with her the fact that her sweet little boy wasn't going to be able to have any rich, creamy milk to enjoy for a while. Meanwhile, I was relieved and rejoicing that Jake seemed to love milk and drink it easily with no problems. Nevermind that this was only Day Two in his new relationship with the white stuff. As far as I was concerned, there was only smooth sailing ahead.
After all, my husband and I are consummate milk consumers. Every trip to the grocery store involves the purchase of no less than 3 gallons of skim milk. In addition to that, I sometimes have to call my husband and ask him to pick up more milk on the way home. I've sometimes woken up groggily in the morning after a grocery trip and been confused: Did I forget to bring the milk up from the trunk of the car? No... the milk has just already been consumed in that brief 16 hours or so.
So, you can understand that after our playdate, when Jake started to act cranky and whiny the next couple of days, I just assumed it must be teething pain. I was also equally sure that his new multiple nightly wakings were just a sign that we'd been "spoiling" him too much by letting him come sleep in our bed. Even when my husband pointed out that Jake seemed to be rather gassy one night, I explained it away by pointing out that we had just subjected him to Mexican food recently.
But there was NO mistaking his latest round of poopy diapers as anything other than what they'd become: extreme toxic nuclear waste! There was no sniffing Jake's pants or lifting the elastic to peer inside necessary to determine if Jake had soiled his diaper. All he had to do was come stand next to me and my eyes would start to water.
Finally I grudgingly admitted that Jake *might* have a problem with milk, although it could have been the massive amounts of watermelon I'd let him eat too, you know. So I called a moratorium on both foods for a few days. Almost immediately, Jake went back to his regular napping and sleeping schedule (minus one midnight waking per night, as a pleasant souvenir of the experience). He reverted back to his usual active, happy-go-lucky self.
I did buy some more watermelon the other day at the grocery. I haven't fed any to Jake yet because I'm afraid to finally confirm what I know to be the inevitable truth: milk is no longer Jake's friend. After all, it *could* still be the watermelon, right??
TRUE TODDLER TIME
On a side note, Jake truly is a toddler now. After being through the exhilirating experience of witnessing Jake's first baby steps, I can determine now that those are not what defines toddlerhood. See, back then, Jake *could* take steps, but when he needed to get somewhere quickly he'd revert back to crawling. It's like Jake considered walking fine for entertainment but not sufficiently utilitarian to meet his transportation needs. Sure, taking steps was great for that wobbly feeling of being tall, but when you need to get to the refrigerator door quickly to grab the ketchup bottle before Mommy shuts the door, walking is too slow and unsteady, right?
The true turning point for being a toddler, I think, is when the child prefers using walking as a means of moving around. Lately, Jake has demonstrated such a preference. Grinning wildly, he'll push up on his feet to swagger across the room toward us. After a few steps, he'll crash on his bottom. Undaunted, he'll promptly push back up to toddle a few more steps before the next crash. Jake will keep repeating this process over and over in his determined attempt to walk
all the way across the room.
Now, sometimes later in the day when his poor little leg muscles are tired and his little feet are sore from trying to walk so much, Jake will revert back to crawling again. But there's no mistaking from the huge grins on his face when he is walking that it's his favorite activity, skill, and pasttime. Also, after a couple hours' crawling break, Jake is eager again to pursue us on his own two feet.
Now begins the true pitter-patter of little feet; let the race begin!
My husband and I have survived probably the biggest disappointment in our parenting experience thus far. Our precious, wonderful little boy.... has developed an intolerance to milk.
I should start with a conversation with a friend of mine in our playgroup. We were at her house, discussing the introduction of milk into our little ones' diet. Her little boy had problems with digesting milk, and I was sympathizing and lamenting with her the fact that her sweet little boy wasn't going to be able to have any rich, creamy milk to enjoy for a while. Meanwhile, I was relieved and rejoicing that Jake seemed to love milk and drink it easily with no problems. Nevermind that this was only Day Two in his new relationship with the white stuff. As far as I was concerned, there was only smooth sailing ahead.
After all, my husband and I are consummate milk consumers. Every trip to the grocery store involves the purchase of no less than 3 gallons of skim milk. In addition to that, I sometimes have to call my husband and ask him to pick up more milk on the way home. I've sometimes woken up groggily in the morning after a grocery trip and been confused: Did I forget to bring the milk up from the trunk of the car? No... the milk has just already been consumed in that brief 16 hours or so.
So, you can understand that after our playdate, when Jake started to act cranky and whiny the next couple of days, I just assumed it must be teething pain. I was also equally sure that his new multiple nightly wakings were just a sign that we'd been "spoiling" him too much by letting him come sleep in our bed. Even when my husband pointed out that Jake seemed to be rather gassy one night, I explained it away by pointing out that we had just subjected him to Mexican food recently.
But there was NO mistaking his latest round of poopy diapers as anything other than what they'd become: extreme toxic nuclear waste! There was no sniffing Jake's pants or lifting the elastic to peer inside necessary to determine if Jake had soiled his diaper. All he had to do was come stand next to me and my eyes would start to water.
Finally I grudgingly admitted that Jake *might* have a problem with milk, although it could have been the massive amounts of watermelon I'd let him eat too, you know. So I called a moratorium on both foods for a few days. Almost immediately, Jake went back to his regular napping and sleeping schedule (minus one midnight waking per night, as a pleasant souvenir of the experience). He reverted back to his usual active, happy-go-lucky self.
I did buy some more watermelon the other day at the grocery. I haven't fed any to Jake yet because I'm afraid to finally confirm what I know to be the inevitable truth: milk is no longer Jake's friend. After all, it *could* still be the watermelon, right??
TRUE TODDLER TIME
On a side note, Jake truly is a toddler now. After being through the exhilirating experience of witnessing Jake's first baby steps, I can determine now that those are not what defines toddlerhood. See, back then, Jake *could* take steps, but when he needed to get somewhere quickly he'd revert back to crawling. It's like Jake considered walking fine for entertainment but not sufficiently utilitarian to meet his transportation needs. Sure, taking steps was great for that wobbly feeling of being tall, but when you need to get to the refrigerator door quickly to grab the ketchup bottle before Mommy shuts the door, walking is too slow and unsteady, right?
The true turning point for being a toddler, I think, is when the child prefers using walking as a means of moving around. Lately, Jake has demonstrated such a preference. Grinning wildly, he'll push up on his feet to swagger across the room toward us. After a few steps, he'll crash on his bottom. Undaunted, he'll promptly push back up to toddle a few more steps before the next crash. Jake will keep repeating this process over and over in his determined attempt to walk
all the way across the room.
Now, sometimes later in the day when his poor little leg muscles are tired and his little feet are sore from trying to walk so much, Jake will revert back to crawling again. But there's no mistaking from the huge grins on his face when he is walking that it's his favorite activity, skill, and pasttime. Also, after a couple hours' crawling break, Jake is eager again to pursue us on his own two feet.
Now begins the true pitter-patter of little feet; let the race begin!
Sunday, July 22, 2007
FREEDOM AND ACCOUNTABILITY
It had to eventually happen. For weeks the buzz has been over the predicted date. Nonstop speculation has overshadowed every family gathering for at least a month. And finally, yesterday, what everyone has sensed approaching arrived at last. Jake took his first steps!!!
Now, yesterday was not the first moment of steps, per se. Jake's taken the odd random step between furniture as an extension of cruising. However, yesterday Jake took 5 consecutive steps in the living room before finally collapsing on his diapered rump. It was amazing. It was spectacular. It was Jake's finest achievement to date.
And I missed it.
I was in the bedroom putting up the latest batch of clean clothes I'd hauled upstairs. Dan was sitting in the recliner enjoying a book when Jake decided to expend the extra energy to toddle over to see him. I got to hear the joyous raptures of Dan describing the event proudly, and to applaud Jake as he happily beamed up at his Daddy. Was I jealous? Well, let's just say that for a brief moment, the phrase "Daddy's Boy" flickered through my mind with some brief envious overtones.
So, yes, we're all very proud of Jake's achievement. He's always been the baby right on cue. Sometimes I used to think Jake would sneak peeks at the baby books to determine what age he *should* accomplish milestones before attempting them.
But I've had a sudden realization. As Jake becomes more accomplished at walking and talking, I'm going to be more accountable. Babies are given much more leeway than toddlers, when toddlers need it so much more. Mommies toting around fussy babies are given sympathetic looks and helpful advice, because the problem is obviously with the baby himself, and not bad parenting on the mother's fault. When a Mommy is chasing a rampant screaming toddler through the grocery store, people tend to "tsk" and shake their heads. "That lady needs to learn how to control her child better!" Admit it, before parenthood, you know you've at least THOUGHT something similar in such circumstances.
So, I expect to lose more and more control over Jake's behavior over the course of the next year, but to be held more and more liable for said behavior. What a lovely paradox!
FOREWARNED IS FOREARMED
On that note, I've already been busy studying toddler behavior books, just to get an inkling of what's on the horizon. These books are all quick to point out that no child is the same, and that every child goes through the stages of toddlerhood at his own pace and in his own way. So what sense of foreboding causes me to shudder slightly whenever I read about the worst case scenarios? Why am I assuming automatically that my sweet, friendly, social little boy is going to suddenly morph into the aforementioned rampant screaming toddler in the grocery store?
I'll tell you why. I've got the curse. In fact, I happen to be one of the few unique people on this planet to have a double curse: both the Mother's Curse AND the Father's Curse. Both of which are the same simple prophecy: "I hope someday that you have a child exactly like you are!"
Let's just say that I had the kind of childhood that generated hundreds of amusing stories to be told at dinner parties. These are the kind of stories that are gleefully "requested" again by younger siblings and distant relatives that didn't get the dubious pleasure of experiencing the horrors firsthand. "Tell us again about that time that Michelle [insert embarrassing incident here]."
I'm in big trouble.
I think the best coping mechanisms I've been able to devise for the upcoming toddler years is the following simple mantra: Jake is not a finished product; we both still have a lot of learning and growing to do.
I have a feeling I'm going to be repeating this mantra over and over and over the next few years, both to myself and maybe to other grocery shoppers as well.
It had to eventually happen. For weeks the buzz has been over the predicted date. Nonstop speculation has overshadowed every family gathering for at least a month. And finally, yesterday, what everyone has sensed approaching arrived at last. Jake took his first steps!!!
Now, yesterday was not the first moment of steps, per se. Jake's taken the odd random step between furniture as an extension of cruising. However, yesterday Jake took 5 consecutive steps in the living room before finally collapsing on his diapered rump. It was amazing. It was spectacular. It was Jake's finest achievement to date.
And I missed it.
I was in the bedroom putting up the latest batch of clean clothes I'd hauled upstairs. Dan was sitting in the recliner enjoying a book when Jake decided to expend the extra energy to toddle over to see him. I got to hear the joyous raptures of Dan describing the event proudly, and to applaud Jake as he happily beamed up at his Daddy. Was I jealous? Well, let's just say that for a brief moment, the phrase "Daddy's Boy" flickered through my mind with some brief envious overtones.
So, yes, we're all very proud of Jake's achievement. He's always been the baby right on cue. Sometimes I used to think Jake would sneak peeks at the baby books to determine what age he *should* accomplish milestones before attempting them.
But I've had a sudden realization. As Jake becomes more accomplished at walking and talking, I'm going to be more accountable. Babies are given much more leeway than toddlers, when toddlers need it so much more. Mommies toting around fussy babies are given sympathetic looks and helpful advice, because the problem is obviously with the baby himself, and not bad parenting on the mother's fault. When a Mommy is chasing a rampant screaming toddler through the grocery store, people tend to "tsk" and shake their heads. "That lady needs to learn how to control her child better!" Admit it, before parenthood, you know you've at least THOUGHT something similar in such circumstances.
So, I expect to lose more and more control over Jake's behavior over the course of the next year, but to be held more and more liable for said behavior. What a lovely paradox!
FOREWARNED IS FOREARMED
On that note, I've already been busy studying toddler behavior books, just to get an inkling of what's on the horizon. These books are all quick to point out that no child is the same, and that every child goes through the stages of toddlerhood at his own pace and in his own way. So what sense of foreboding causes me to shudder slightly whenever I read about the worst case scenarios? Why am I assuming automatically that my sweet, friendly, social little boy is going to suddenly morph into the aforementioned rampant screaming toddler in the grocery store?
I'll tell you why. I've got the curse. In fact, I happen to be one of the few unique people on this planet to have a double curse: both the Mother's Curse AND the Father's Curse. Both of which are the same simple prophecy: "I hope someday that you have a child exactly like you are!"
Let's just say that I had the kind of childhood that generated hundreds of amusing stories to be told at dinner parties. These are the kind of stories that are gleefully "requested" again by younger siblings and distant relatives that didn't get the dubious pleasure of experiencing the horrors firsthand. "Tell us again about that time that Michelle [insert embarrassing incident here]."
I'm in big trouble.
I think the best coping mechanisms I've been able to devise for the upcoming toddler years is the following simple mantra: Jake is not a finished product; we both still have a lot of learning and growing to do.
I have a feeling I'm going to be repeating this mantra over and over and over the next few years, both to myself and maybe to other grocery shoppers as well.
Tuesday, July 17, 2007
Birthday Wishes and Cake Dreams
I've not written anything for a couple of weeks in this journal. For future reference, in case you ever read this in the future, Jake, know that your father and I spent many hours planning your first birthday party to perfection. Now that I have a few quiet moments for contemplation, I find that I have mixed feelings about this milestone.
EVERY NEW BEGINNING...
Our house has never looked better. Dan and I installed new mini-blinds in most windows, painted the remainder of the main entry and hallway walls, hung most of the wall hangings, framed and hung Jake's studio portraits, rearranged all the furniture, packed the remaining unpacked boxes in the spare bedroom and basement, bought new linens for the master bedroom and the main bathroom, and cleaned, cleaned, cleaned as though our lives depended on it. We ordered Jake's birthday cake and balloons, planned the party menu, delegated some food preparation to family members, and wrapped all Jake's birthday presents. By the end of that week, we were barely running on fumes. But the day of the event was a wonderful success, and what's amazing for us is that we actually managed to relax and enjoy the festivities ourselves.
Poor little Jake was so hyped with the flurry of pre-party activities that he wasn't able to take his morning nap. So by the time the guests arrived, he was rubbing his little eyes like crazy. My mom fed him a bottle and he napped while everyone ate. An hour later I woke him up, and once he got over the grumpy period of "I can't believe you woke me up", he was entranced at having such a large audience. His lunch consisted mainly of a large helping of birthday cake. Jake nibbled and messed happily as he looked wondrously around at everyone filming, taking pictures, and proudly cheering on his efforts. Clearly, Jake was in heaven.
After his cake luncheon, present-opening began. Jake half-heartedly tore at one package's wrappings only to wander off and play with his riding toys, much to the chagrin of his parents and the delight of his cousins, who then assumed the all-important duty of tearing wrapping paper off enthusiastically. To the amusement of everyone present, the youngest cousin even responded to my prompts to Jake to "Say thank you, Grandma" by shouting out "Thank you, Grandma". Hilariously, he did this for both sides of the family, even thanking perfect strangers he had just met with endearments like Aunt and Uncle and Granny. So Jake had his own Official Present Openers and Thankers. Wonder if the cousins would be willing to drop by and help with the thank you notes as well?
So Jake threw his first successful party, with the help of many others. It's now official; he's no longer a baby. From now on, everything will be repeats. No more first Christmases, first Halloweens, first Valentines. Oh, I know that everything is still fresh and new to his mind, it's just that I see some of that wonder and awe now being replaced by familiarity and confidence. Not that it's a bad thing, mind you, but it is definitely a new era around here.
... COMES FROM SOME OTHER BEGINNING'S END
To swipe Semisonic's semi-philosophical end about the cyclic nature of life, the end of babyhood is necessary to begin toddlerhood, which must end to begin childhood, etc. What goes up must come down.
Now, before I'm accused of becoming maudlin, or the fact is pointed out that not too long ago on this very journal I wished for Jake's rapid advancement into childhood, let me say that I do not retract the previous statement. I am still very much looking forward to the fun we'll have together in the years to come. I guess right now I'm just having a moment of sentimentality concerning all the baby things we'll be leaving behind soon forever.
I'll miss the way he snuggles in my arms while sucking down a bottle. I'll miss how when Jake nursed, he used to get this look of drugged-out ecstasy on his little face. I'll miss the way Jake would stare intently into the eyes of whoever held him, like he was trying to figure the person out. I'll definitely miss the way he used to actually lie still during diaper changes... no wrestling involved! I'll miss how soft his skin used to be before it got roughed up from crawling and climbing everywhere.
At the same time, there are things I WON'T miss about Jake's babyhood. I won't miss how his boredom and frustration in the car seat led to endless screaming on car trips. I won't miss how easily Jake would awaken from sound sleep when I tried to carefully lay him in his crib for a nap. I won't miss all the times I frantically tried to figure out WHY he was crying again, and the helpless feelings it caused. And above all, I won't miss that sleepless haze we stumbled through at the beginning.
So I realize that wishing away the discomforts of infancy also wished away some of the joys. Soon I won't be stuck for hours on end holding him to comfort him, but then I won't have much opportunity to cuddle an active toddler. Soon I won't have to continually prop a bottle in his mouth, but then Jake will be an independent little person who will want to do it himself. Soon I won't have to carry his heavy weight everywhere, but then he'll be running out of my reach. Soon I won't be able to cuddle him whenever I want, but then soon I'll be able to hear those words I've waited a lifetime to hear: "Mommy, I love you." And yes, those more experienced parents out there are saying now, "Just wait until he's old enough to say 'Mommy, I hate you'." But let's just take these stages one at a time, shall we? Otherwise I MIGHT become downright maudlin, and in my current state of sentimentality, I'm not willing to look that far down the road just yet. So...
HAPPY FIRST BIRTHDAY, JAKE!
It's been a wonderful year. Life is so much better with you around. It's like discovering dessert for the first time, or riding that first roller coaster, or falling in love for the first time. You've got us all swoony and giddy and wowed. All of your family and friends love you very much, but Daddy and I love you the most!
EVERY NEW BEGINNING...
Our house has never looked better. Dan and I installed new mini-blinds in most windows, painted the remainder of the main entry and hallway walls, hung most of the wall hangings, framed and hung Jake's studio portraits, rearranged all the furniture, packed the remaining unpacked boxes in the spare bedroom and basement, bought new linens for the master bedroom and the main bathroom, and cleaned, cleaned, cleaned as though our lives depended on it. We ordered Jake's birthday cake and balloons, planned the party menu, delegated some food preparation to family members, and wrapped all Jake's birthday presents. By the end of that week, we were barely running on fumes. But the day of the event was a wonderful success, and what's amazing for us is that we actually managed to relax and enjoy the festivities ourselves.
Poor little Jake was so hyped with the flurry of pre-party activities that he wasn't able to take his morning nap. So by the time the guests arrived, he was rubbing his little eyes like crazy. My mom fed him a bottle and he napped while everyone ate. An hour later I woke him up, and once he got over the grumpy period of "I can't believe you woke me up", he was entranced at having such a large audience. His lunch consisted mainly of a large helping of birthday cake. Jake nibbled and messed happily as he looked wondrously around at everyone filming, taking pictures, and proudly cheering on his efforts. Clearly, Jake was in heaven.
After his cake luncheon, present-opening began. Jake half-heartedly tore at one package's wrappings only to wander off and play with his riding toys, much to the chagrin of his parents and the delight of his cousins, who then assumed the all-important duty of tearing wrapping paper off enthusiastically. To the amusement of everyone present, the youngest cousin even responded to my prompts to Jake to "Say thank you, Grandma" by shouting out "Thank you, Grandma". Hilariously, he did this for both sides of the family, even thanking perfect strangers he had just met with endearments like Aunt and Uncle and Granny. So Jake had his own Official Present Openers and Thankers. Wonder if the cousins would be willing to drop by and help with the thank you notes as well?
So Jake threw his first successful party, with the help of many others. It's now official; he's no longer a baby. From now on, everything will be repeats. No more first Christmases, first Halloweens, first Valentines. Oh, I know that everything is still fresh and new to his mind, it's just that I see some of that wonder and awe now being replaced by familiarity and confidence. Not that it's a bad thing, mind you, but it is definitely a new era around here.
... COMES FROM SOME OTHER BEGINNING'S END
To swipe Semisonic's semi-philosophical end about the cyclic nature of life, the end of babyhood is necessary to begin toddlerhood, which must end to begin childhood, etc. What goes up must come down.
Now, before I'm accused of becoming maudlin, or the fact is pointed out that not too long ago on this very journal I wished for Jake's rapid advancement into childhood, let me say that I do not retract the previous statement. I am still very much looking forward to the fun we'll have together in the years to come. I guess right now I'm just having a moment of sentimentality concerning all the baby things we'll be leaving behind soon forever.
I'll miss the way he snuggles in my arms while sucking down a bottle. I'll miss how when Jake nursed, he used to get this look of drugged-out ecstasy on his little face. I'll miss the way Jake would stare intently into the eyes of whoever held him, like he was trying to figure the person out. I'll definitely miss the way he used to actually lie still during diaper changes... no wrestling involved! I'll miss how soft his skin used to be before it got roughed up from crawling and climbing everywhere.
At the same time, there are things I WON'T miss about Jake's babyhood. I won't miss how his boredom and frustration in the car seat led to endless screaming on car trips. I won't miss how easily Jake would awaken from sound sleep when I tried to carefully lay him in his crib for a nap. I won't miss all the times I frantically tried to figure out WHY he was crying again, and the helpless feelings it caused. And above all, I won't miss that sleepless haze we stumbled through at the beginning.
So I realize that wishing away the discomforts of infancy also wished away some of the joys. Soon I won't be stuck for hours on end holding him to comfort him, but then I won't have much opportunity to cuddle an active toddler. Soon I won't have to continually prop a bottle in his mouth, but then Jake will be an independent little person who will want to do it himself. Soon I won't have to carry his heavy weight everywhere, but then he'll be running out of my reach. Soon I won't be able to cuddle him whenever I want, but then soon I'll be able to hear those words I've waited a lifetime to hear: "Mommy, I love you." And yes, those more experienced parents out there are saying now, "Just wait until he's old enough to say 'Mommy, I hate you'." But let's just take these stages one at a time, shall we? Otherwise I MIGHT become downright maudlin, and in my current state of sentimentality, I'm not willing to look that far down the road just yet. So...
HAPPY FIRST BIRTHDAY, JAKE!
It's been a wonderful year. Life is so much better with you around. It's like discovering dessert for the first time, or riding that first roller coaster, or falling in love for the first time. You've got us all swoony and giddy and wowed. All of your family and friends love you very much, but Daddy and I love you the most!
Sunday, July 1, 2007
Paging Dr. Mommy
A SEASONED MOM AND HER LITTLE SNUFFALUPAGUS
Jake's been sick this week, although we're not quite sure when it started. Tuesday night or Wednesday morning when I dropped him off at my mom's for the day, I thought in the back of my mind, "Hmm... his nose seems a bit runny." Consumed with planning the Big First Birthday Party, I picked him up later in the day, completely forgetting about it, and catching up with the day's anecdotes with my mom. She also seemed not to notice much about it either. Her day was highlighted by the epiphany that even a modern swim diaper will not contain the after-effects of feeding Jake an entire sippy cup of undiluted apple juice. Guess I forgot to mention dilution percentages. Oops, sorry, Mom!
On Thursday, Jake was noticeably drippy, developing his own little nasal waterfall. He was also incredibly cranky. (I'm not sure if his crankiness was illness-related, or just boredom from being stuck at home with me and missing playgroup activities.) My mind flew over plausible cold and allergy options and landed square at teething effects. "Gee," I thought to myself. "I know it's been a while since he's gotten any new teeth. Guess I forgot how much his nose would run while teething." My theory seemed confirmed when Jake woke up in the middle of the night screaming, sending me on a midnight trip to the store for Infant Tylenol.
Friday morning, Jake woke with a "bubbling crude" coming out of his nose. When my mom called to chat later I mentioned that Jake seemed to have developed a runny nose. She said she noticed it too, but we both chalked it up to teething. That is, until Mom watched him again for me a couple of hours that evening. Then when I arrived, she pointed out that Jake had become slightly wheezy. It was now official: Jake was sick. Only took 3 days to figure it out!
Mom gave me the immediate advice to set up a humidifier in Jake's room, with specific instruction not to "blow it directly on him". Admitting that the now-greenish, thick mucus was probably not resulting from teething any longer, I followed the instructions that night. Neither one of us thought it necessary to call the doctor.
On Saturday, Mom watched Jake again so that Dan and I could finish painting the interior walls of our house. Immediately suspicious when a drippy Jake was placed in her arms, my mom demanded to know whether we used a humidifier. Yes, we did, Mom. No, it hasn't seemed to help, Mom. Yes, we'll keep trying to use it tonight, Mom. It was then that I suggested the idea that if Jake wasn't better by Monday, I might have to call the doctor.
Now, let me pause to acknowledge any brand-new mothers out there who are reading this story. You're probably horrified that I haven't already dashed to the pediatrician to demand medical attention for that poor, sick baby. But other than the drippy nose and occasional wheeze, Jake has been as active as ever. He's not been feverish at all, or lethargic. He's had plenty of fluids and as much rest as we ever can convince him to take. And it wasn't until the mucus started to turn a bit greenish that I ever considered that it might be anything other than teething. In fact, Jake's been so actively, happily playful that several times today Jake has "helped" Dan install some new mini-blinds, much to Dan's chagrin.
I've been on the "new mommy" side of the fence. After a few times of rushing to the doctor's office or calling late at night over concerns, I've learned a few Basic Questions that are always asked: What color is the mucus? Is he having any trouble breathing? Is he lethargic, or has it affected his eating habits? Unless the anwers to these questions are alarming (which they've never been), the usual response is to give him lots of fluid, aspirate the mucus out of his nose as much as possible, and just to call them back if he seems to be getting worse or new symptoms develop.
So, to any new mothers out there, I assure you that I am NOT neglecting my child, or denying him needed medical attention. I have simply become a well-seasoned mommy by watching my delicate little newborn thrive and develop into a usually-healthy, hardy almost-toddler. This occurred despite runny noses, head bumps, diaper rashes, a case of cradle cap so bad I continually referred to it as "Cradle Crap", and an emergency phone call to Poison Control over ingested cat food (thankfully not all at the same time, mind you). So I feel fairly comfortable now putting aside the panic button, and calmly calling the doctor's office only whenever Jake develops problems or illnesses outside the realm of my experience to handle.
So, yes, if the snot's green, I'm taking him to be seen. If the snot's clear, we're staying here.
(I can't think of any clever rhymes for wheezing, but I'll probably call the doctor's office on Monday anyway, if only to listen to the Basic Questions again.)
Jake's been sick this week, although we're not quite sure when it started. Tuesday night or Wednesday morning when I dropped him off at my mom's for the day, I thought in the back of my mind, "Hmm... his nose seems a bit runny." Consumed with planning the Big First Birthday Party, I picked him up later in the day, completely forgetting about it, and catching up with the day's anecdotes with my mom. She also seemed not to notice much about it either. Her day was highlighted by the epiphany that even a modern swim diaper will not contain the after-effects of feeding Jake an entire sippy cup of undiluted apple juice. Guess I forgot to mention dilution percentages. Oops, sorry, Mom!
On Thursday, Jake was noticeably drippy, developing his own little nasal waterfall. He was also incredibly cranky. (I'm not sure if his crankiness was illness-related, or just boredom from being stuck at home with me and missing playgroup activities.) My mind flew over plausible cold and allergy options and landed square at teething effects. "Gee," I thought to myself. "I know it's been a while since he's gotten any new teeth. Guess I forgot how much his nose would run while teething." My theory seemed confirmed when Jake woke up in the middle of the night screaming, sending me on a midnight trip to the store for Infant Tylenol.
Friday morning, Jake woke with a "bubbling crude" coming out of his nose. When my mom called to chat later I mentioned that Jake seemed to have developed a runny nose. She said she noticed it too, but we both chalked it up to teething. That is, until Mom watched him again for me a couple of hours that evening. Then when I arrived, she pointed out that Jake had become slightly wheezy. It was now official: Jake was sick. Only took 3 days to figure it out!
Mom gave me the immediate advice to set up a humidifier in Jake's room, with specific instruction not to "blow it directly on him". Admitting that the now-greenish, thick mucus was probably not resulting from teething any longer, I followed the instructions that night. Neither one of us thought it necessary to call the doctor.
On Saturday, Mom watched Jake again so that Dan and I could finish painting the interior walls of our house. Immediately suspicious when a drippy Jake was placed in her arms, my mom demanded to know whether we used a humidifier. Yes, we did, Mom. No, it hasn't seemed to help, Mom. Yes, we'll keep trying to use it tonight, Mom. It was then that I suggested the idea that if Jake wasn't better by Monday, I might have to call the doctor.
Now, let me pause to acknowledge any brand-new mothers out there who are reading this story. You're probably horrified that I haven't already dashed to the pediatrician to demand medical attention for that poor, sick baby. But other than the drippy nose and occasional wheeze, Jake has been as active as ever. He's not been feverish at all, or lethargic. He's had plenty of fluids and as much rest as we ever can convince him to take. And it wasn't until the mucus started to turn a bit greenish that I ever considered that it might be anything other than teething. In fact, Jake's been so actively, happily playful that several times today Jake has "helped" Dan install some new mini-blinds, much to Dan's chagrin.
I've been on the "new mommy" side of the fence. After a few times of rushing to the doctor's office or calling late at night over concerns, I've learned a few Basic Questions that are always asked: What color is the mucus? Is he having any trouble breathing? Is he lethargic, or has it affected his eating habits? Unless the anwers to these questions are alarming (which they've never been), the usual response is to give him lots of fluid, aspirate the mucus out of his nose as much as possible, and just to call them back if he seems to be getting worse or new symptoms develop.
So, to any new mothers out there, I assure you that I am NOT neglecting my child, or denying him needed medical attention. I have simply become a well-seasoned mommy by watching my delicate little newborn thrive and develop into a usually-healthy, hardy almost-toddler. This occurred despite runny noses, head bumps, diaper rashes, a case of cradle cap so bad I continually referred to it as "Cradle Crap", and an emergency phone call to Poison Control over ingested cat food (thankfully not all at the same time, mind you). So I feel fairly comfortable now putting aside the panic button, and calmly calling the doctor's office only whenever Jake develops problems or illnesses outside the realm of my experience to handle.
So, yes, if the snot's green, I'm taking him to be seen. If the snot's clear, we're staying here.
(I can't think of any clever rhymes for wheezing, but I'll probably call the doctor's office on Monday anyway, if only to listen to the Basic Questions again.)
Sunday, June 24, 2007
Grand Achievements of Mommyhood
MOMMY GENIUS IN THE MAKING
You ever have one of those breakthrough moments in parenting? It sure makes you wish that there were a Nobel Prize for Grand Achievements of Mommyhood, because you know that in that moment, you'd clinch it. Sure, your "invention" wouldn't actually improve anyone else's lives, but for you and your baby, the improvement in quality of life is vast. You've solved a centuries-old problem (hey, in baby years a couple of problematic months can feel like centuries) simply through your own ingenuity and perserverance. You should at least get a cookie or a sticker or *something*.
My grand accomplishment this week has been to improve the Changing of the Dirty Diaper. Our previous routine went something like this:
-Unfasten diaper and groan when you see that poop is smeared front to back.
-Grasp both baby ankles in one hand to hoist the little poopy butt in the air.
-Do the famous First-Pass Wipe with the soiled diaper itself.
-Continue holding baby's ankles in the air to keep still-poopy butt from smearing all over the changing table mat.
-Pause to catch and restrain your little boy's grabby hands when he suddenly realizes that he's free down there.
-Alternate between wiping poop off with wet wipes and keeping boy's hands away from poop-covered genitals, all the while keeping his ankles aloft and butt off the mat, until the twisting baby is ready to fling himself off the table in screaming distress and you feel like jumping out the window yourself.
As you can see, this routine had some obvious need for improvement. Even when offered a toy as distraction, Jake was still not too wild about being partially hog-tied for several minutes, and who could blame him? But it seemed my only alternatives were either to let Jake grab his poop-covered self with little hands that always find their way back to his mouth, or to buy enough mat covers to have on hand to change after every dirty diaper. Since the first option is just plain gross, and the second option would cause Dan to question why I needed to do a laundry load of nothing but mat covers every day, I knew there had to be a better way.
Okay, so I didn't *know* there had to be a better way, but I pleaded with the universe at large to please let this whole experience get a little easier. And miraculously, it did!
Our most recent dirty diaper change routine was drastically changed by the use of one extra baby wipe:
-Unfasten diaper, still groaning over the mess one little boy can make.
-Use the diaper to wipe away poop from the genitals only, keeping the rear end covered.
-STOP, and wipe poop off genitals with wet wipes before he realizes he's free.
-Once genitals are poop-free, allow the happy little boy to grab himself at will while you continue cleaning.
-VERY quickly, hoist the baby up by the ankles JUST long enough to finish the dirty-diaper wipe, and to spread a clean wet wipe under his poopy butt, which can now be set down.
-Leisurely wipe off remaining poopy areas with wet wipes, eventually discarding the now-poopy spare wet wipe from under his now-clean butt, while he happily continues to play with himself and to babble to the wall about the experience.
Of course, like any new breakthrough with a baby, this will take repeated testing to verify that it wasn't just the novelty of the situation that pacified the baby. I've bragged before about wonderful routine changes and how much better Jake behaved, blah blah blah. Almost as soon as the words are out of my mouth, Jake quickly gets used to the new routine and rebels against it with every bit as much vigor (and sometimes more) as he did before.
So maybe we shouldn't have Nobel Prizes for Grand Achievements of Mommyhood. After each annual award acceptance, the next week's newspaper headlines would feature an internationally embarrassed mommy returning the award because her little darling figured out a way to overcome her improvements. No pat on the back would be worth that much potential risk of humiliation. It's bad enough facing the glint in your little one's eyes when he knows, and you know, that he's got you figured out yet again.
You ever have one of those breakthrough moments in parenting? It sure makes you wish that there were a Nobel Prize for Grand Achievements of Mommyhood, because you know that in that moment, you'd clinch it. Sure, your "invention" wouldn't actually improve anyone else's lives, but for you and your baby, the improvement in quality of life is vast. You've solved a centuries-old problem (hey, in baby years a couple of problematic months can feel like centuries) simply through your own ingenuity and perserverance. You should at least get a cookie or a sticker or *something*.
My grand accomplishment this week has been to improve the Changing of the Dirty Diaper. Our previous routine went something like this:
-Unfasten diaper and groan when you see that poop is smeared front to back.
-Grasp both baby ankles in one hand to hoist the little poopy butt in the air.
-Do the famous First-Pass Wipe with the soiled diaper itself.
-Continue holding baby's ankles in the air to keep still-poopy butt from smearing all over the changing table mat.
-Pause to catch and restrain your little boy's grabby hands when he suddenly realizes that he's free down there.
-Alternate between wiping poop off with wet wipes and keeping boy's hands away from poop-covered genitals, all the while keeping his ankles aloft and butt off the mat, until the twisting baby is ready to fling himself off the table in screaming distress and you feel like jumping out the window yourself.
As you can see, this routine had some obvious need for improvement. Even when offered a toy as distraction, Jake was still not too wild about being partially hog-tied for several minutes, and who could blame him? But it seemed my only alternatives were either to let Jake grab his poop-covered self with little hands that always find their way back to his mouth, or to buy enough mat covers to have on hand to change after every dirty diaper. Since the first option is just plain gross, and the second option would cause Dan to question why I needed to do a laundry load of nothing but mat covers every day, I knew there had to be a better way.
Okay, so I didn't *know* there had to be a better way, but I pleaded with the universe at large to please let this whole experience get a little easier. And miraculously, it did!
Our most recent dirty diaper change routine was drastically changed by the use of one extra baby wipe:
-Unfasten diaper, still groaning over the mess one little boy can make.
-Use the diaper to wipe away poop from the genitals only, keeping the rear end covered.
-STOP, and wipe poop off genitals with wet wipes before he realizes he's free.
-Once genitals are poop-free, allow the happy little boy to grab himself at will while you continue cleaning.
-VERY quickly, hoist the baby up by the ankles JUST long enough to finish the dirty-diaper wipe, and to spread a clean wet wipe under his poopy butt, which can now be set down.
-Leisurely wipe off remaining poopy areas with wet wipes, eventually discarding the now-poopy spare wet wipe from under his now-clean butt, while he happily continues to play with himself and to babble to the wall about the experience.
Of course, like any new breakthrough with a baby, this will take repeated testing to verify that it wasn't just the novelty of the situation that pacified the baby. I've bragged before about wonderful routine changes and how much better Jake behaved, blah blah blah. Almost as soon as the words are out of my mouth, Jake quickly gets used to the new routine and rebels against it with every bit as much vigor (and sometimes more) as he did before.
So maybe we shouldn't have Nobel Prizes for Grand Achievements of Mommyhood. After each annual award acceptance, the next week's newspaper headlines would feature an internationally embarrassed mommy returning the award because her little darling figured out a way to overcome her improvements. No pat on the back would be worth that much potential risk of humiliation. It's bad enough facing the glint in your little one's eyes when he knows, and you know, that he's got you figured out yet again.
Sunday, June 17, 2007
Food For Thought
I'M WITH THE BABY
Dan and I had our first date night in a while last Sunday. The evening was a wonderful success. My favorite part was walking to and from the movie theater with empty arms... unheard of! However, the service at the restaurant felt a little flat. The server forgot our bread and was somewhat oblivious to our empty beverage glasses. It was no big deal, we simply had to remind her, but we still felt slightly bereft. Then I realized why.
We didn't have Jake with us.
Dining with Jake at a restaurant is like dining with a mini-celebrity. Servers and patrons alike fawn and coo whenever he's around. Servers swarm to attend to his every need, and sometimes crowd around two rows deep to entertain him and coax flirtatious smiles from his sweet little face. I can easily summon someone from the outer edges with suggestions like "Could the baby have some water?" or "Do you have any crayons?" and a couple of servers will peel away with the fervor of a Pony Express rider, eager to accomodate Jake's slightest whim or comfort. Of course, we tip generously, but still we realize the servers' true reward comes when Jake deigns to flash those six little pearly whites in their direction.
IF THEY ONLY KNEW
Jake is so pleasing and entertaining when we dine out, that it's hard to imagine the change in personality when he's seated in his highchair at home. Perhaps the illustration would be best described by a comparison to Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde:
Dr. Jake In-Public bounces happily up and down in his booster chair.
Mr. Jake At-Home bucks and arches his back to get out of his highchair the moment he's in.
Dr. Jake In-Public flirts happily with the servers before coyly accepting bites of offered food.
Mr. Jake At-Home refuses all bites and eventually tastes the tidbits on his tray, only to spit them out in his lap.
Dr. Jake In-Public will quietly sip his beverage while peering around docilely at his fellow diners.
Mr. Jake At-Home will reach for his cup of juice only to screech and turn his head when it's proffered.
Dr. Jake In-Public is too distracted by his surroundings to play with his food.
Mr. Jake At-Home revels in smearing and staining his highchair tray, clothes, his hair, Mommy, his inner ear, and the floor with his food.
People might find it hard to believe that I would happily volunteer to get a root canal in someone's place if they were willing to feed Jake at home for me for a couple days. At least with the root canal I'd have access to painkillers.
WAIT JUST A MINUTE, MISTER
Father's Day is here, and to help Dan relax and enjoy his day I planned to do some of the things he did for me on Mother's Day to relax. I thought about volunteering to do all the diaper changes for the day. Wait... I already do that. So then I thought about taking care of all Jake's feedings. Wait... I already do that too. Hmmm... bathing, temper tantrums, boo-boos... I was started to feel put-out and miffed.
But only for a minute.
Then I realized that a lot of the day-to-day work I do around the house is echoed by all the work that Dan does to support it. Sure, I do most of the diaper changes, but Dan works to provide the money to pay for those diapers and wipes. I handle most of Jake's feedings, but Dan provides the means to feed all of us, including treats that we might not need. Through Dan's support, I'm able to dedicate my days to caring for Jake, and I can avoid the worry and stress of finding someone else to care for him. Even the sheer number of hours Dan works to allow Jake and I a typical day of grocery shopping, swimming at the Y, and going to playgroups are mind-boggling when all added up.
Fathers are often listed as secondary parents, as also-rans in the final credits of a grown child's life, with mommies receiving top-billing. The visible hours I put into raising Jake are matched by the mostly invisible work Dan puts in to provide for and protect us, yes, both Jake and myself. Every family is different, and every family member has different roles to play. In our family, Dan is the steel infrastructure, the metal and gears, the precision circuitry that keeps the delicate machinery of our family life running smoothly.
HAPPY FATHER'S DAY, DAN!
Jake is so lucky to have such a wonderful daddy as you. I will do my best to make sure he realizes this as he grows through childhood. And I hope that he grows into your fortitude, selflessness, and love when he becomes a man himself.
Dan and I had our first date night in a while last Sunday. The evening was a wonderful success. My favorite part was walking to and from the movie theater with empty arms... unheard of! However, the service at the restaurant felt a little flat. The server forgot our bread and was somewhat oblivious to our empty beverage glasses. It was no big deal, we simply had to remind her, but we still felt slightly bereft. Then I realized why.
We didn't have Jake with us.
Dining with Jake at a restaurant is like dining with a mini-celebrity. Servers and patrons alike fawn and coo whenever he's around. Servers swarm to attend to his every need, and sometimes crowd around two rows deep to entertain him and coax flirtatious smiles from his sweet little face. I can easily summon someone from the outer edges with suggestions like "Could the baby have some water?" or "Do you have any crayons?" and a couple of servers will peel away with the fervor of a Pony Express rider, eager to accomodate Jake's slightest whim or comfort. Of course, we tip generously, but still we realize the servers' true reward comes when Jake deigns to flash those six little pearly whites in their direction.
IF THEY ONLY KNEW
Jake is so pleasing and entertaining when we dine out, that it's hard to imagine the change in personality when he's seated in his highchair at home. Perhaps the illustration would be best described by a comparison to Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde:
Dr. Jake In-Public bounces happily up and down in his booster chair.
Mr. Jake At-Home bucks and arches his back to get out of his highchair the moment he's in.
Dr. Jake In-Public flirts happily with the servers before coyly accepting bites of offered food.
Mr. Jake At-Home refuses all bites and eventually tastes the tidbits on his tray, only to spit them out in his lap.
Dr. Jake In-Public will quietly sip his beverage while peering around docilely at his fellow diners.
Mr. Jake At-Home will reach for his cup of juice only to screech and turn his head when it's proffered.
Dr. Jake In-Public is too distracted by his surroundings to play with his food.
Mr. Jake At-Home revels in smearing and staining his highchair tray, clothes, his hair, Mommy, his inner ear, and the floor with his food.
People might find it hard to believe that I would happily volunteer to get a root canal in someone's place if they were willing to feed Jake at home for me for a couple days. At least with the root canal I'd have access to painkillers.
WAIT JUST A MINUTE, MISTER
Father's Day is here, and to help Dan relax and enjoy his day I planned to do some of the things he did for me on Mother's Day to relax. I thought about volunteering to do all the diaper changes for the day. Wait... I already do that. So then I thought about taking care of all Jake's feedings. Wait... I already do that too. Hmmm... bathing, temper tantrums, boo-boos... I was started to feel put-out and miffed.
But only for a minute.
Then I realized that a lot of the day-to-day work I do around the house is echoed by all the work that Dan does to support it. Sure, I do most of the diaper changes, but Dan works to provide the money to pay for those diapers and wipes. I handle most of Jake's feedings, but Dan provides the means to feed all of us, including treats that we might not need. Through Dan's support, I'm able to dedicate my days to caring for Jake, and I can avoid the worry and stress of finding someone else to care for him. Even the sheer number of hours Dan works to allow Jake and I a typical day of grocery shopping, swimming at the Y, and going to playgroups are mind-boggling when all added up.
Fathers are often listed as secondary parents, as also-rans in the final credits of a grown child's life, with mommies receiving top-billing. The visible hours I put into raising Jake are matched by the mostly invisible work Dan puts in to provide for and protect us, yes, both Jake and myself. Every family is different, and every family member has different roles to play. In our family, Dan is the steel infrastructure, the metal and gears, the precision circuitry that keeps the delicate machinery of our family life running smoothly.
HAPPY FATHER'S DAY, DAN!
Jake is so lucky to have such a wonderful daddy as you. I will do my best to make sure he realizes this as he grows through childhood. And I hope that he grows into your fortitude, selflessness, and love when he becomes a man himself.
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