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.

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!

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.)