Guess who's coming to dinner?

Had a hard time getting Zac motivated for school today.  They are building a new Fred Meyer behind our house, he really just wanted to watch the "confucktion site" to see "W'at dumb fuck doin?" (translation: Construction site - what dump truck doing).  I put on my best excited voice and said "DO YOU KNOW WHO'S GOING TO BE AT SCHOOL TODAY?"

It's true, it's Friday, and good things happen on Friday's.  There's dance class, for one thing.  There's a couple of children who are not there other days of the week, not to mention his beloved teachers.  I honestly expected a logical answer from my two year old.

His eyes lit up, and he said "SANTA?!?!?!"

He's developed a cute way of saying no, it's a "I'm just joshin' ya," sort of "naaaaaaw" no.  He answered his own question about Santa with a "NAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAW."

He thought for a second.  "BARACK OBAMA?!?!?!?!?!"

"NAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAW." Not Barack Obama.

He thought a little more. "MAMA! Is it GRANDMA?!?!?"

I feel like a total jerk for being the one to have to tell him it's not Grandma, either.  It's just the same people you see every day.  Maybe I can make up for the Grandma disappointment by taking him to the pediatrician this afternoon.

Speaking of snuggling.....

I read this on the scary mommy blog this morning - it sort of sums it up.

My husband has told me time and time again to cut the cord… no f*****g way! I’m waiting until that thing rots and falls off. I mean, for how much longer is he going to say “I love you” when he walks out the door, or hug me in front of his friends, or ask me to lie with him at night? Frankly, I don’t know, but I won’t be the one to stop it.

If he’s 40 and wants me to lie with him and scratch his arm, I’ll be all “Move over, Megan,” or whatever his unappreciative, son-stealing wife’s name is.

Holding hands with my boy
 

Songs my mama sang me

Tonight's bedtime was spectacularly better than last nights, but still a bit off-routine from what has become the norm. We had a busy morning at Seattle's Pacific Science Center, then a late nap, late dinner, late bath all added up to tears when we put him into his crib.

"No! No! Need mama! Need Mama snuggle on couch!" He cried, the tears were barely contained by his long lashes. He reached for me. "need Mama! NEED MAAAAAAMAAAAAA!"

We snuggled for about an hour, talking softly and singing songs. He picked his favorite stuffed bear, Poppy, and let out a sigh of content. His eyes were droopy.

"Mama snuggle Thackie. Thackie snuggle Poppy."

He fell asleep with me singing "Shenandoah" to him. I keep saying I want to record a cd of songs I sing to him regularly, included the silly ones we've made up together. I want to call it "songs my mama sang me". Many are unique to me and Zac, but many are songs my mama sang me, too.

If I ever DO this, I believe we took the album cover photo today. We found a giant acoustic guitar, and climbed in it.
















Sweet dreams, my son.

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Location:NW 85th St,Seattle,United States

Potty Training

Zac has become very interested in the potty.  He's asks to sit on the potty, and tells me when he needs a diaper change.  We've had multiple success with getting to the potty in time to urinate, no pooping yet.  In Zac's world, everything that happens in his diaper is poop. 

A few weeks ago, he asked me about underpants.

"Thackie got underpants, mama?" He asked.

"Do you want underpants, buddy?" I replied.

"YEAH! Underpants" He gave me his best big boy grin, so enthusiastic!

"What will you do with underpants?" I was honestly curious how much he knows about the whole potty thing.

"No pooping mama.  Underpants not for pooping.  Diapers for pooping."  He was really serious in his reply, like he's got it all figured out.

Santa brought Zac 14 pairs of underpants for Christmas - 7 cars themed, 7 Thomas themed. He immediately went from being a toddler to being a college student, and promptly put a pair on his head.

A week or so ago, I got a wake up in the middle of the night over the monitor.

"Mama! MAMA! I POOPED OUT MY PENIS! MAMA! MY JAMMIES WET! Maaaaaaaaaaaaaamaaaaaaaaaaa!" he called out.

When I got upstairs, he was standing in his crib, pulling his wet jammies away from his body.  I asked him what happened. 

"I POOPED.  OUT MY PENIS. Change diaper, Mama?"

While getting him changed, I talked about pooping and peeing, and how pee is just wet, while poop is smushy.  I didn't go into which body parts make what happen, but I did tell him we had much bigger problems if he'd actually pooped from his penis.
Over the weekend, he had over 2 hours of time in underpants with no accidents (no using the potty, but no accidents, either).  What I don't know about potty training would fill a book, but I'm pretty sure his awareness of what has happened and what is needed means a step in the right direction toward diaper freedom.

Bath night

Z has started tucking his fork away in his shirt when he wants both hands free during a meal. It's both practical and weird.

Tonight, he insisted on sitting on his potty, completely naked except for a blue tube sock on his right foot, and a penguin themed slap bracelet of his left wrist. He then took his keyboard and balanced it on his lap, like only a little rocker who's currently sitting on the toilet can, and proceeded to play and sing into the microphone. He was attempting to sing "row row row your boat" (which he calls "whoa whoa"), but he kept getting lost in other modes of transportation. My favorite was "whoa whoa whoa whoa twain"

Once his creative muse had left him, he handed me the keyboard and barked an order. "Mama sing! Mama whoa whoa,", hopped up off the toilet and ran into the bathroom for his bath.

Brings new meaning to the phrase "rock out with your cock out"
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Merry (belated) Christmas!

Also, this.  Because I can.  And because he's just SO STINKING CUTE!!!!!!!  It seems the reality of Santa's "naughty list" hit home while sitting on Santa's lap.

Aquarium Trip

Over the Christmas break, we took Zac to the aquarium.  It's small enough that it's easy to see everything, and big enough a two year old can get a good run on, just in time to tire him out for a nap.  He really liked the otters, the seahorses and "Nemo".

Literally, nose to the glass, watching "Nemo"

He was decked out in his Ohio State track suit, a Christmas gift from Grandma and Grandpa.  When we stopped to get our tickets, the lady at the counter said "OK, two adults and one little buckeye".

We stopped in the gift shop on the way out (cleverly, the most direct way out of the aquarium is through the gift shop.  "Know your audience" - it's the first rule of stand-up, and apparently the first rule of public attractions, too.)  After a fair amount of deliberation, Zac picked out a stuffed spotted baby seal as his new friend to take home.

After lunch, we were driving home, and he started with the questions.

"People make 'dat?", he asked, holding up his seal.

"Yep, a nice Chinese lady made that," Mark told Zac.

"China lady make 'dat?" Zac repeated.

He spent the rest of the afternoon asking about various things in the house - "China lady make 'dat?", "China lady make 'dis?"

Our little sponge continues to soak things in at a rapid pace. I just hope he's not at childcare asking "China lady make 'dat?" at this exact moment.

It's a good thing he's cute

Wow.  That was one shit-assed bedtime.  Mark's out tonight, and my boy was seriously off his game.  During the bath, he slapped at the water and cried, "I DON'T WIKE BUBBLES!", cried through the drying off, cried through the pajamas, then cried through the first story.  "I WANT DADDY! I WANT DADDY!"

After two rounds of milk, and him taking off his own pajamas to throw them into the dining room while laughing maniacally and a truimphant yell of "THACKIE EMMERT DID IT!" he is finally asleep. 

It's a good thing he's cute.



Photos by Craig Larsen



The beatitudes of beans

My son loves jelly beans.  Back in February, his pre-school had a half day, and I met up with another parent for lunch and playtime at an outdoor shopping mall.  One of our stops was at the Confectionary, a high-end candy store.  I told Zac he could pick out one thing, and he picked a small bag of jelly belly jelly beans.

When he was younger, he could make a jelly bean last for a very long time.  He would suck the candy coating off, happy to just carry a slime covered bean around, clutched in his little fist.  He rarely asked for more, and he rarely asked for beans in the first place.  He treated each one as a joyful surprise.

Now that he's two, he has incorporated beans into the car routine, and it makes me slightly mental. It doesn't matter what time of day it is, it doesn't matter if he's full or hungry.  He climbs into his car seat and says "BEANS, MAMA?!? BEANS?".  I explain nicely how beans are a sometimes treat, for after dinner.  He attempts to negotiate, shouting out numbers at random, and non-sequentially.  The requests escalated, then deteriorate, until he's whining and I want to either cover my ears and sing "la la la la la la" to drown him out, or snap out "enough with the fuckin' beans already!"



One bean, mama

I'm trying to turn it into an opportunity for a lesson.   I'm calling this lesson "The Beatitude of Beans".  The term Beatitude comes from the Latin adjective beatus which means happy, fortunate, or blissful. I offer up six beatitudes, for consideration.

1) Blessed are boys who are present:  Be happy for the one bean you have, not sad about the beans still in the bag. There will always be something faster, better, more technologically advanced, or sweeter out there, just on the horizon.  Don't be so busy looking at what you don't have that the good things in your lap get overlooked.     

2) Blessed are boys who have faith: There are more beans out there, my son.  The world is your bean-oyster. Have faith, the good things will come to you, in the form of beans, and many other blessings.

3) Blessed are boys who trust:  Mama loves you and would never let you go without, Trust in that.  It covers the basics - food, shelter, warmth; The extravagances - toys, beans, fun trips to the zoo; and your birthright - unending love, support, and joy.

4) Blessed are boys who are patient: Things in life do not always come at the exact moment you want them.  We talk a lot about "two minutes" - two minutes until cleanup, two minutes until bath time, two minutes at the playground.  Mama's default timer on the phone is for two minutes.  I promise to be mindful of what I say to you and to help you understand patience by executing the promised event in the time frame.  In the meantime, hold your water.  Beans don't fall from the sky.  Seat belt first!

5) Blessed are boys who are gentle:  Kicking mama in the head with your hard little spider-shoe clad feet is not a good way to make your bean-request known.  Use your words.  Maybe even try adding please in.  Your partner will thank you for this when you are all grown up, too.  Be gentle with the ones who love you - you have a responsibility to take care of their hearts.

6) Blessed are boys who say thank you:  It's good manners, but it's more than just words.  My mommy, your grandma hoo hoo, used to tell me "A poor man has to be as good as his word.  It's all he has."  When you say "thank you", let your heart be thankful.  When you say "I'm sorry", let your heart be contrite.  When you say "I love you", let that love stretch your heart just a little wider.

I love you, Zachary, with all my heart.  I will gladly be the teacher behind your beans, in the same way you are my teacher in so many ways.



Celebrating being TWO!
 

Haaaapy burf-day, ahhhneeee

We tried like hell to get z to record a little birthday message for his beloved Auntie Jennifer (he calls her ahhhhhnee). There were a couple moments of near compliance, but he was not in performing monkey mood, plus, his leapfrog fridge farm is just so mesmerizing!

My favorite part is when he dances a little jig.

Zac's video for his ahhhhhneee

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Oh, the words you will speak!

Zac and I have started having conversations, like real conversations with reasoning and requests.  Our talk this morning went like this:

Zac: "Mommy?  Mooooowk?"
Me: "Sure, sweetie, I'll get you some milk."

(I had him a cup, fresh from the fridge.  He tastes is, shakes the cup, and holds it out to me.)

Zac: "No.  Cooooooo-wd"
Me: "Would you like it to be warmer?"
Zac: "YEAH! WAAAAAAHM-ER-ER!"

(I take the milk into the kitchen to pop it into the microwave for a few seconds.)

Zac: "Mommy?"
Me: "Yes, Zac?"
Zac: "NOT haaaaawt, Mommy.  NOT HAAAAAWT."

I couldn't help but laugh.  How is possible he's learned cold, warmer-er and hot?  And that he has a preference that he can express about the temperature of his milk?  He amazes me every day!

New words

Z's vocabulary is growing leaps and bounds, and not just in swear words!
Some new words he added this weekend:
* goooookie (cookie, which was actually a cupcake)
* iced tea
* nyat-meeeee-an (batman)
* duper- meeeee-an (superman. He also threw his arms up in the air and grinned from ear to ear while I played the movie theme song to him, as he sat on his toilet and we read a book about superman)
* Ning nong! Ning nong! (Ding dong! Ding dong!)
* "I is reading!" - it got quiet, we asked what he was doing.
* "another booowk mama!"

* we worked hard at singing twinkle twinkle little star. It went a little like this "tinkle tinkle yeeetle tar. What. Are."
Mama! Where tars?!?"
* this morning he was 'I pooped mama' and sitting on his toilet. He heard daddy vacuuming, and he popped up, wearing Thomas the train socks and his shirt and chased his daddy down, bare -assed. "Wanna heeeeeeewp cweeeeean!" (Want to help clean)

Something very important I forgot To add! Zac now says his own name! Thackie. Today he was wearing a super Grover shirt, with super Grovers body and his head sticking out. He deemed himself "THUPER THACKIE" we all applauded


- Posted using BlogPress from my iPad. Fueled by coffee.

Pushing 2

It's been a while since I last checked in.  I could pretend that it's just that my son keeps me so busy, but there's been a free-floating spirit of ennui coursing through my life, which makes it hard to sit down and concentrate.

It's hard to believe there was a time where I worried that Zac didn't talk enough, or that I would beg him to say "Mommy" instead of "Daddy" all the time.  I think he broke a world record for the number of times one person can say "mommy" in a 60 second time frame.  After the 932 reiteration of "MOMMY?" I said "Jeez, Zac, WHAT?!?!" (I was on the phone while he was doing this, of course)

He smiled sweetly and said "HI!" Yep.  That's an almost 2 year old for ya.

He got to spend a fair amount of time with Papa & Granny (My dad & his wife) this summer, and the attraction between Zac and his Papa was almost palpable.  Upon first re-meeting, Zac walked up to his Papa, reached for his hand, and said "Hewwo Papa!" They spent some time reading stories, playing cars, and walking around, holding hands and talking about things.  Zac became very aware that they were a matched set - there is no Granny without Papa, and vice versa.  He also named their RV "Harvey" and likes to check random RV's to see if Papa is inside.  The old ones are back in Arizona for the winter, and they are already missed. 

 

Zac and I also spent a few nights on the Olympic Peninsula with Ahhhhh-neee (Auntie Jennifer) Nom (Uncle Tom).  They had rented a house on the water that was absolutely gorgeous.  Zac enjoyed the boats, seeing wa-wa everywhere, and at one point he exclaimed "Oh My GAWD.  The Tweeees!" (trees). Fwwwwwwy-innnnn kiiiiiiiii-yites! on the beach was a huge hit. 

Fwwwwwwwwwy-innnnnn kiiiiiii-yites! with Nom

He parrots everything I say.  EVERYTHING I SAY.  I've heard him admonishing other drivers from the back seat ("Beep beep, atttttth-hoooooo!") and he met me telling him he could not have Ma-Means (Jelly Beans) for breakfast with a scrunched up face and "Puck you, Mama" (yeah, I'm not gonna translate that one.)

He's sleeping in his own room 100% of the time - we had a sitter over a few months ago and rather jokingly suggested she feel free to get Zac to sleep in his crib.  He went right to sleep for her, and has been sleeping there ever since.  Naps and bedtime have one of three possible outcomes: Really easy, One check in, and fucking awful.  There is not a lot of middle ground with my little man.

Yay! Potty!

He's very interested in the potty.  He likes to tell us to poop, and he likes to undress his doll and sit her on the potty so she can poop.  Last night, he told me he had to go, so I got him undressed.  He peed on the floor NEXT to the potty, yelled "uh-oh!" covered it with a book, and ran away.  It's a start!  My previous experience with cats has not really prepared me for this, I know if a cat was peeing next to his litter box, it would be his way of saying "I'm not particularly happy with you."  For Z, I think he just didn't QUITE make it in time.  I'm pretty content to let this go on his own schedule, with no real pressure about potty training.

He has a fine fashion sense, which is to say he wears what I buy for him without too much of a fuss. He's figured out that he gets fawned over A LOT when he's wearing a hat, so he will keep a hat on.  And while he likes his own hats quite a bit, there's nothing quite like getting his hands on one of my hats, or Daddy's hats. If ever you see him wearing a baseball cap backwards, it's not because I put it on him that way, he has his own sense of style, and he will not be limited by what Mama and Daddy say is "right".  Backwards caps are COOL, you guys!

 

Wearing Mommy's Hat (and Tigger slippers), an Animal hoodie (complete with mohawk), and Mr. I-Do-It baseball cap.

 

It's been an amazing almost two years, a frustrating almost two years, a happy almost two years, the most exhausting experience I've ever had, and more joy than I thought my heart was capable of.

I showed this picture to my primary care doctor.  He said "kids can't fake that happy look."

To forward face, or not to forward face.

Zachary is almost 19 months old, and he's actively rejecting any and everything that might indicate we may be treating his like a baby and not like the big boy that he's fighting to become.  He idily pushes around food that we've cut too small, and aggressively devours food that is in it's original form.  He sighs, patiently, and indulges in our over-protective need to hold his hand while he's going up and down stairs, and his new favorite phrase is "NO MAMA!"

The latest multiple times a day struggle is the car seat.  He's still rear facing, based on newish findings that childrens should stay rear facing until 2 years old.  His legs do not straighten out when he's seated, and it gives him A LOT of leverage for squirming.  I sit him in the car seat, and he pistons his legs out, launching sideways, throwing himself out of the car seat and into the passenger back seat.  He sits there, like a big boy, and starts fumbling with the seat belt.  He KNOWS he needs to be belted in, just has no interest in doing it in a car seat, looking the wrong direction.  When I drag him back into his car seat, I'm pretty much physically restraining him while he screams and I strap him in.  This adds a lot of stress, guilt, and general anxiety to both of our mornings.

Buckle up, Mama!



So, here's my dilema.  He is 35 3/4" tall and 30.5 pounds.  He's off the growth charts in ever category.  Do I continue to fight him for the next 5 months, or do I go ahead and flip him around to forward facing - where the view is more interesting, and his legs won't be up against anything, giving him the momentum to get away faster.  His safety is top priority to me, but there's something to be said for my sanity in this whole deal, too.

P.S. - Look, Jennifer E! 324 words! :-)

Vroom, Vroom!

Where do little boys learn to play cars and make car noises?  We do not have a preponderance of gender specific toys, and the car collection only started once he really got into his first car.  The other night, Zac was wearing pi's that had trucks on them.  It was like light dawned on Marblehead.  He looked at the cars, looked at me, then pinched his fingers together and ran them up his arm, making the "vrooooooooom" noise.  He moved the car to my leg, smiled and said "Beeep beep!  Vrooooooom" then ran it up my leg too.

He's become fascinated with spaces where he doesn't really fit.  He likes to sit in the smallest toy box, he also likes the open nook under the counter.  Last night, he got the empty cardboard box that the delivery of diaper wipes arrived in, and drug it into the kitchen where I was making dinner.   He worked out getting into the box on his own, then started to scoot himself across the floor by bending his knees and scootching his butt.  "VROOOOOOOOOM!"

This was all fine and good until he figured out he was stuck in the box.  "Uh OH!  UH OH!  DAAAAAH-EEEEE! DAAAAAH-EEEEE!" he called.  It took me a moment to stop laughing and lift him out of the box.  He then decided it was a better plan to put Elmo and Cookie Monster in the box, and to push/drive it around the kitchen.

I wish I understood more about how he learns.  He amazes me every day with some new thing.  And whenever I am convinced he's a genius and we should go ahead and enroll him in college, he does something like shoving a super hero down his diaper and laughing maniacally. 

Is that your final answer?

Zachary still doesn't talk as much as I'd like, or as much as I think he should.  I remind myself that I don't actually know the correct amount that he "should" be talking, and when we saw his pediatrician at the 18 month visit, the doctor said his 12 words are absolutely within normal range, so I try not to worry.

In the last week or two, it seems we've had a few words added to the vocabulary.  I sometimes think we assign meaning to sounds he makes repetitively and they aren't really words, but he uses them consistently and contextually, so I'm going to say the B sounds: Ba (bottle), Bee (JB, his bear), Bay-bee (Baby), boo (boots/shoes), burr (bird), are words to him.

He's been asking "was dat?" for months, but he's recently added a new question "Ahh we dere?" (are we there?). He repeats it non-stop while riding in the backseat of the car, as if I gave birth to Bart Simpson.

very stylish, in one of my socks, with a straw fedora, 

and preparing to roll some lint

We spend some time most days looking at pictures of family.  We name all the people on the fridge, and all the people on the dining room wall, mostly with us telling him who they are, then asking "Where's Papa?", "Where's Grandma?", "Where's Auntie Jennifer?", etc.  We were playing this game the other day when he pointed at a picture of Mark and said "Daaaah-eeeee!"  Mark asked him "Where's Mama?"  Zac leaned his head against my shoulder and said "Wight dere."

He love listening to music, and tries to sing along with me, particularly on sustained notes.  He can come close to matching pitches, and he loves songs with sound effects.  A recent favorite is The Beatles "Hey Bulldog", he loves to throw his head back and howl like a dog along with the sounds at the end.

We've been spending a fair amount of time at the zoo, as we renewed our family membership.  It's great because there's plenty of room for him to run, and not really a lot of trouble he can get into.  He likes to watch the penguins, and to visit the sloth bears.  We actually made it past the sloth bears to the meerkats and komodo dragons on the last trip.  He was underwhelmed by the lizards on rocks, but seemed to think the meerkats were fascinating. 

He seems to really like all the pretty flowers blooming, and he asks me over and over "Was Dat?" when we go on walks.  I answer to the best of my knowledge: Tulips, Daffodils, Iris', Dandelions, and I make up what I don't know.  Sometimes I quiz him when we see a flower a second time.  I'll ask "ZAC! What's that?"  He sometimes answers "Ummmmmmmmmm, Fah-wer", which always amuses me.

He's been very intent on learning to blow on dandelions, no unblown dandelion is safe from his hands. 

For Mother's Day, Zac brought me a pack of 12 paper towels and a card he made.  He also took a 4 hour nap, which was a pretty awesome present in itself.

One of his teachers today said "Wow, he's really left all vestiges of babyhood behind, he is a full-on toddler now."  I said "That's not exactly a compliment, is it?" She laughed and said "no, not exactly."  He is showing every sign of a strong-willed only child, pushing boundaries and learning limits.  It's fascinating and insanely frustrating at the same time.

We've come a long way, baby.

17 months ago today, we brought our son home from the hospital.  Zachary was born via scheduled c-section, and it was an uncomplicated and normal birth.  He had some problems the first night - after nursing, he would fall asleep and then make horrible choking noises.  I still remember the terror like nothing I'd ever felt the first time that happened.  I was still attached to an IV and catheter and could not get out of bed, his bassinet was out of my reach, and I couldn't GET TO HIM while he made these awful noises.  It was my job to press the panic button and communicate what was going on.  The nurse came in, took one look at him and grabbed him up to literally run him down to the NICU.    As a C-section baby, he had some amniotic fluid that hadn't fully cleared because he didn't travel down the birth canal and have that compression.  This, coupled with the fact that he had undiagnosed reflux, was causing him to choke a bit on the thicker fluid.  He cleared that incident on his own without having to have a tube into his stomach.  After the heat of the moment, the nurse turned to me and said "OK, you have this panicked look on your face.  Talk to me.  What's going on?"  I couldn't really put words into the absolute helplessness I felt, being connected to tubes and unable to get to my baby, unable to help him.

Nursing was not an easy adjustment for either of us, and Zac lost 12% of his body weight in the first two days.  I was instructed to wake him every two hours to nurse, and we supplemented with a little formula while waiting for nature to do it's magic, my milk to come in, and for the whole thing to get easier.  On the first day home, we had snuggled up for a nap together and I had an alarm set to wake me up to nurse him.

The alarm went off and Mark and I woke up, but we could NOT get Zac to wake up.  I played music for him, stroked his face, we clapped and snapped, I poked and prodded, we even put a cold washcloth on his face and he was having nothing to do with it.  I started to get scared, and we called the consulting nurse line.

I went through their script of questions, and I provided answers.  "No, he has not had a wet or poopy diaper in the last 2 hours.", "Yes, he's breathing", "No, it doesn't seem like he's in distress."  After about 10 minutes on the phone answering questions, she told me it just wasn't worth it to take a chance with a newborn, and that we needed to return with him to the urgent care immediately.

As I was hanging up the phone, there was the tell-tale sound of a soiled diaper and we changed him while he was still refusing to wake up, and returned to the hospital.  I couldn't tell if the diaper was wet AND poopy or just poopy, so I bundled it into a bag and put it in my pocket, and off we went.

I sat in the back seat with him, shining the light of my cell phone on him so I could see if he was still breathing, and could assess if there were any changes to his skin color.  It was a silent ride while Mark drove with focus back to the hospital.

By the time they got us into triage, he had started to wake up. By the time the pediatrician got into the exam room, he was wide awake and ready to chow down.  It turns out, we had brought our baby to the emergency room because he was just really soundly asleep. It became a story we shared with a lot of chagrin and self deprecation.

Fast forward 17 months.  A couple nights ago, Zac tripped and took a header into the door jam, resulting in a scrape and a SPECTACULAR goose egg.  I held him to comfort him while he cried, and blew gently in his face when it seemed like it had been too long since his last sobbing inhale.  He looked up at me with the giant eyes that I love so much and he wailed "BAAAAAAAAAA?"  Even though it was dinner time, I said "Absolutely, sweetheart.  You can have a bottle."  Mark heated him up some milk and I continued to hold and rock and shhhhsh him and tell him he was ok.

"Do you think we should take him to the emergency room?  Does he need stitches?", Mark asked worriedly.

"I think he's fine.  Let's just put some ice on it" I replied.

Zac calmed down, and then I got the shakes and started crying.  He was playing happily on the floor while the tears dripped off my cheeks and nose and I put my head in my hands.  "I just worry about him SO MUCH", I told Mark.

We reassured each other that he really was acting fine, and I went forward with preparing Z's dinner for him.  By the time he sat down to eat, he had completely forgotten about the whole thing, outside of a little annoyance at me for putting a band-aid on his head.

I was out for drinks with a few of the moms from our parenting group, and I showed off the picture of Z's goose egg.  One of the moms asked if we took him to the emergency room, and I shrugged and said "No, we just kept an eye on his pupils and how he was walking and gave him a little tylenol before bed.  He shook it off pretty well."

She said "Wow, you've come a long ways from taking him to the emergency room because he was asleep."

I thought about that, and I thought about this journey.  We really HAVE come a long way!  Emotionally, mentally, and physically for Zac, we are not the same parents today that we were when we brought him home.  Neither one of us worry any less, but I like to think we've all changed for the better as we've got to know each other.

Phone Etiquette

Z is very into the phone.  He likes to carry my phone around and chew on the case, depositing loads of baby drool directly into the charging port.  He loves looking at pictures of himself on my phone, and he will chatter away at videos of himself.  In case of true emergency, we've been known to use the Badger Badger Badger website to calm a dinner time tantrum (it mesmerizes him).

Mommy and Daddy also like their respective phones very much.  We've bought and received a variety of toys for Z that look like their grown up counterparts.  He has not just one but TWO cell phones, two remote controls (one of them is a dog toy that looks like a real remote, he loves it) and a toy set of keys with keychain tools, like arming the alarm, a flashlight, and the sound of a doorbell.  As much as he likes picking up his leapfrog phone and hearing Scout the dog sing to him, he seems to know it's not nearly as cool as the phones that Mommy and Daddy have.

When his toy phones are in the on position, they ring randomly.  The other evening, his phone rang while we were sitting on the floor playing with blocks.  He picked it up, flipped it open and barked "WHAT?" into the receiver.  He listened for a moment, smiled and said "Oh, hi!" then handed the phone to me.

We try so hard not to actively laugh AT him.  But how can you not?  What sort of behavior are we modeling for him that he would answer the phone and bark in annoyance because he's been interrupted at play?  The first time he spouts off with an obscenity, I will probably choke to death in an attempt to not laugh at him.

On the other hand, Z brings me so much joy, so many times throughout the day.  He also thinks it's very funny when Mommy laughs, and tends to laugh along with me.  The sound of his infectious little giggle mingled with my own laughter is a highlight for me.  I think he knows he's a bit of a comedian.  He knows that grabbing his nose and saying "MEEP!" will crack me up every time.  He knows the value of a well timed fist bump.  It's the first law of stand up, "know your audience".  And my little boy knows his Mama.

Snuggle Time

Z took a fantastic nap at daycare today (5 minutes shy of 3 hours!) and was in a very chipper mood this evening, up until the point where I dropped the container of wipes on his head, and made him cry like crazy while changing a poopy diaper.  (For the record, the container of wipes was nearly empty, and I think I startled him more than I actually hurt him, but still.)  Daddy got home very late, Z was almost done with dinner when Mark got home.

While we ate dinner quickly and Z amused us by slapping his hands on his head and squealing open mouthed in an unwitting parody of "Home Alone", I told Mark "I have GOT to do some writing tonight!  I've got a call with my blogging buddy in the morning, I'm at least 2 posts behind, and I need to spend time on it."

Normally bed time is a surprisingly easy ritual.  I'm still trying to move the actual "down into bed" time back to closer to 7:00, after reading a post from a wise friend about sleep training, but we didn't hit that benchmark tonight.  We put Z down about 7:30, and he laid down for all of 7 minutes before popping back up and grabbing the power cord of my laptop and tugging enthusiastically.  I encouraged him, softly, to lay back down and rest his head, but he was not having it.

After a few more tugs, he started fussing.  I texted Mark, who was upstairs finishing up some house chores "It's like he HEARD me say I need to write tonight.  He won't lay down and is fussing!"  I slammed the laptop closed, and let out a tortured sigh.  "Fine.  FINE.", I muttered, and I scooped up Z to go over to the rocking chair for some snuggle time.

I pulled his favorite blanket off the back of the chair, a Winnie the Pooh fleece blanket that I bought for him 15 years ago, before I even knew there was a him in my life.  I covered him, and we settled in with his head on my shoulder for a few minutes before he pulled the blanket over his face and lurched sideways with his head in the crook of my arm.  We rocked, and I sang softly to him while he nuzzled into his blanket.

Then he grabbed my hand and brought it up to his cheek, wrapping his arms around my wrist and let out a big sigh.  I stroked his cheek and kept rocking and singing softly to him while he drifted off, holding onto me.

A few weeks ago, another wise friend posted a link to this story about "savoring every moment" with your child.  I try, I really do, but the complete and total loss of self gets overwhelming sometimes.  I want to do what I want to do, when I want to do it.  I don't want to go to bed every night by 7:30 because I don't want to leave Z alone downstairs.  Sometimes I want to watch TV, or write, or read, or play a game on my computer.  I want to listen to music too loudly and sing at the top of my lungs and stay out late and drink too much.  I want to be selfish.

And then there are these moments.  Moments when my little boy needs nothing more than my heartbeat, my hand on his cheek, and the sound of me singing softly to him for all to be right in his world.  It's my own moment of Kairos, and the one that I will remember as I go to sleep tonight, and I'm sure one I'll reflect on when he's too grown up to want anything to do with me at bedtime.  I'll hold this one close to my heart and be thankful for it.

Thank you, Zachary, for reminding me to stop and enjoy this moment outside of time with you.

SNOW MY GOD!

Seattle gets maybe one good snow a year.  This years was not all that bad, in volume, but it was the hardest one we've had, so far.  The difference with this year is the addition of a baby, who is in a daycare that follows the Seattle Public School closure guide for incliment weather.  We've heard lots and lots of advice about how important it is to maintain routine for your toddler, and that advice was hammered home with Monday as a holiday (MLK), Tuesday late opening and early closure, and Wednesday and Thursday closure. 

We bundled Z up in his new (used) snow suit, and took him out in the snow on Wednesday. Watching him discover it was pretty darned awesome. I love the look of pride on his face when he gets to a standing position!

We tried really hard not to laugh at him, we just laughed NEAR him.

We went for a walk down to our local hot chocolate shop (And yes, we are incredibly lucky to have a HOT CHOCOLATE shop in our neighborhood.  Standing invitiation to anyone that wants to drop over for a cup).  Z had a sippy of milk while we had hot chocolate, and he practiced walking holding Daddy's hand on the way home.

My heart breaks a little bit to see him looking so grown up!

We really did try to keep things "business as usual", but by Thursday afternoon, we were in a bit of trouble.  Naps had gone out the window, and at one point, Z was walking in a circle in the living room, clutching his Sesame Street remote control and sobbing.  Snow had turned to rain and it was absolutely nasty (and bordering on freezing/icy) outside, so we stayed inside, which just wasn't enough variety for him.

On Friday, school was still closed, but both my work and Mark's work reopened with a late start.  I called our previous part time provider and asked if she could take Z for the day, which she was happy to do.  It actually cost me $100 to go to work for 6 hours, but I was just as stir crazy as the boy at that point, I was happy to do it. 

Snow melted away on Saturday, and we're back to our normal Seattle day-to-day.  Two new teeth (molars on top) are on their way in, and Z can gnaw through a banana peel and start eating the banana sideways if I don't do my banana-peeling-and-cutting-duty fast enough for his taste.