Silly Baby

December 5th

Action-Packed Birthday Footage

We didn't have a big party for Max's 1st birthday. I harbor a small amount of guilt about that, but only because a kid's 1st birthday is made out to be such a "big deal". Really, as parents, we should be enjoying the year or two reprieve from birthday and holiday madness. He's ONE. He's excited when we sing "This Old Man" three times in a row. And presents? I can give the kid a subscription card from a magazine and he carries it around like its an Academy Award.

The reason the one year mark gets so much press (thank you mama friend Laila for hitting the nail on the head) is because its the one year anniversary of when you became a parent. Therein lies the meaning, the excitement, the nostalgia, and in my case, the tears shed when it began to snow on Max's birthday (the first snow last year was the day Max was born. Those little snowflakes drifting through the air last Thursday afternoon were like a punch to the emotional solar plexus for me. Ah, hormones.)

That being said, we didn't just put Max to bed early and do a shot of tequila to mark a successful baby-rearin' year (success=everyone's still alive). I made a meal. Homemade bbq chicken (thats right, sauce from scratch), cornbread, greens n bacon and carrot cupcakes with cream cheese frosting (also from scratch). I was overly proud of the meal as cooking ain't my forte...my goals for dinner are simplicity, nutrition and relative tastiness. In that order of priority. I've also never made cupcakes in my life, even from a box. It took me all day and every dish in the house, but it was worth it. We had Dave's parents over and opened a few presents (thanks to everyone who showed admirable restraint not overloading us with stuff), then did the requisite singing and candle-blowing out. It was delightful.

I recorded the highlights of the evening on camera and am sharing them below. The footage is pretty gratuitous but its for the aunts, uncles, grandparents and friends who couldn't be here but really wanted to. So put on your party hats, blow up some balloons, sit back and enjoy Max's 1st birthday festivities! (Please tune out my inane mama-chatter in some of these. And my singing. Parenthood really does make you shameless, as I CRINGED when I reviewed these but am posting anyway for the sake of the fans. Eesh.)



Present opening. Globe from Gramma K and truck book from Aunt Kathy and Uncle Dale.





I love the look on kids' faces when people sing Happy Birthday to them. Like, "Have you people gone MAD?"



Yes, I did say "top of the cupcake to you". And if you know that reference, you're as big of a dork as I am.

Thanks

I've been reflecting a lot lately. As the new parent of a small child, one receives a lot of advice. Probably the most oft-heard is to "live in the moment" and appreciate the small things.

So what am I grateful for this holiday season? I could list the many things, but I think its easier to sum it up with this-I couldn't tell you the last time I had a bad day. I've had bad moments, bad hours even (particularly the wee ones). But I honestly can't remember the last time I've gone to bed thinking, "Thank God this day is over." It struck me that this is what happiness IS; good, safe moments that quietly outnumber those of suffering, anxiety or sorrow. I am lucky, and I am grateful for this happiness. I know there will be hard times and I cannot hope to avoid the sorrow that life inevitably brings. But I can hope to get through the bad and always return to this.

That said, I bring you a pictorial of Thanksgiving Day at the Small house. There should be more photos of our dinner with both sets of grandparents but someone forgot the SD card for the camera. Someone being me.


Our wildlife tree! Since the idea of a live Christmas tree in the house with a one-year old inspires visions of constant "no"-ing and/or lights and ornaments on only the upper half, we decorated a tree in the backyard with deer corn, peanut butter birdseed pinecones, barley biscuits and cranberry garland. Hopefully we'll get lots of critters to the banquet and it'll be a fun yearly tradition.


What Thanksgiving would be complete without shooting?





And finally, what I am most thankful for, every moment of every day:

Oh Deer

Its that time of year again. Deer hunting season is upon us. People who don't live in Wisconsin (or the Midwest really), probably don't understand the magnitude of gun season. Particularly up north. I'm trying to be more positive about hunting this year. I still dread seeing the bodies in trucks and strung in the trees outside deer camps. I'm hoping the doe and her two babies who visited our yard all summer survive the bullets. I don't like the macho idiots gun season attracts. I'm annoyed about being unable to safely walk in the woods (no matter what any hunter says, it isn't really safe. Particularly with a small child.) And I'm very glad Dave isn't MIA for a whole week hunting.

However, I remind myself that deer hunting at its best, simplest and most traditional is practiced by thoughtful folks who eat the venison, tread lightly on the land, and kill with humanity and respect for the creatures whose lives they're taking.

As the island prepares for a flood of blaze orange and people from Illinois, Max and I took advantage of the (relatively) balmy temperatures (40+) and clear November sunshine; playing ball on the deck and then a visit to Daddy's job site to watch the machines. In a nod to the season, Max wore his camouflage onesie.


"WHAT'S happening to Bambi??!!!" (Sorry, couldn't resist a Bambi dig)

The Kindest Cut

My skills as a hairdresser were sorely tested this morning. I don't know if you have ever tried to cut an 11 month old's hair, but its not easy. Not easy at all. Even with Daddy holding him straitjacket-style in front of a rousing episode of The Wiggles (fairy dance, look it up), Max wasn't that keen on the comb and clippers around his face. (I wasn't keen on having to cut his sweet, soft, wispy little baby locks. There may have been a lump in my throat.) But it was necessary. His bangs had grown past his eyelashes and he kept scratching the backs of his ears because the hair was tickling them. So off it went. Blending was a challenge. I didn't want to take off any more than absolutely necessary so we ended up with sort of a mullet in the back. With all those obstacles, it turned out okay. Mostly he looks so grown-up.


There's still a lump in my throat.

Saturday

Sick or Treat

My friend Betsy and I have said it time and time again-there's nothing sadder than a sick baby. Max had a fever and we had our first walk down the puke-on-my-parents road (on dad anyway...hahaha). Our weekend was spend cuddling on the couch, watching movies, nursing and napping. Doesn't sound too bad except for the heat radiating off my boy and intermittent crying and moaning. Oh, and the worry. The what if its meningitis or pneumonia or something worry. (Please, other mamas, tell me that eases up with subsequent childhood illnesses).

A highlight was calling Nurse Direct (why do babes get sick on weekends? Why?) and being told to "only breastfeed on one side for 5 minutes every half hour". I spent a short time being disturbed and mildly outraged that that's the advice being doled out by a medical professional and then proceeded to ignore her. I can't imagine denying him nursing when he's sick, especially since it seemed to be all he really wanted to do. It was like having a newborn again. After 2 days he's much better, no fever, no puking, and cruising around jabbering to himself per usual. I credit the constant physical contact with Dave or I, frequent nursing and co-sleeping with his fairly speedy recovery and (in hindsight) mild bout of whatever it was.

Also a highlight, his little snuggly, red-eyed, sweaty-headed, undershirted self on the couch made for some of my favorite photographs:

Full of Beans

"Max loves green beans! He can't get enough of them! And he's having so much fun in his Exersaucer, laughing and playing while Mommy gets some things done around the house! La-di-da-da!"

Musical Stylings

We made the trip to Milwaukee recently and spent a lovely Sunday afternoon with Max's great grandma. One of the highlights was sitting on Great Grandma's lap, watching Lawrence Welk.



He usually reserves grooves like that for his favorite television entertainers, the Wiggles. Upon further reflection however, the similarities are many: both shows feature people wearing brightly colored clothes, using overly expressive gestures and facial expressions, singing, dancing, and neither show employs seizure-inducing MTV-style editing.

Yet another example of life coming full circle...from the Wiggles to Welk.

Gift

"What, Mom? What do you want now? I was going to play with my blocks...its WHO'S birthday?"



"Ok, ok, I guess I'll hold this thing for HER."



"Wait, what does it say?"



"Oh! Yeah! Happy Birthday Grandma!"



*Clap Clap Clap* "Boy genius. That's right."

Lah Low

Dave and I made the call last night-Max has uttered his official first word. He's been uttering it for weeks it seems, it just took the dumb parents that long to interpret. Was it "Mama" or "Dada"??!?!?!

Neither. It seems that Laszlo is my child's favorite member of our household. Only fair I guess. Poor dog never gets a moment's peace lately and handles all baby-related disturbances with relative aplomb. Here's to Lah low!

MTV

Movin' On Up

Max has perfected his crawling and can operate our bedroom door. Behold:



No babies were hurt in the filming of this video. Just frustrated.

Mediocre Martha

Most people who know me even a little bit well know I am not exactly a beacon of domesticity. I turn a blind eye to clutter and dust, and vacuum, sweep and mop only when it becomes apparent my child could make a meal out of the things he's finding on the floor. Clothes have been known to remain in the dryer until wrinkles set in. Permanently. Dishes are the bane of my existence. And my husband is a better cook than I. Don't get me wrong, we hardly live in squalor, I'd just rather do oh, about 8 million things with my free moments other than clean. I'm seriously considering finding someone to trade hair services for housecleaning services. That being said, I've had to get my act together somewhat in the cooking department. I can't expect Dave to cook EVERY night. Besides, with Max eating solid food regularly and becoming increasingly adept at feeding himself, I can't exactly serve him nachos and graham crackers dipped in chocolate syrup for lunch (a perfectly acceptable lunch for myself however). So I've checked out the internet, gotten creative and through trial and error have come up with the following successful, baby-friendly, healthy, easy peasy recipes that us adults like too:

Banana French Toast
Just like regular French Toast, but healthier...
1 very ripe banana
half cup plain yogurt (or milk, or kefir, or whatever you're into)
1 egg
dash cinnamon
splash vanilla extract
a pinch of nutmeg and/or ground ginger if you're feeling exotic (I don't believe in this bland food for babies business. I figure if I expose him to spice at this age his palate will be more open to lots of different tastes as he gets older. And except for black pepper-HATED it-he's been pretty cool with strong flavors. I steer clear of the spicy stuff, but garlic, onion, cinnamon etc is fair game.)
Bread

Blend ingredients (except bread, obviously). Heat butter or oil in a pan. Coat both sides of bread slices with blended mixture. Heat on low/med heat in pan until suitably brown on each side. Voila! Super tasty French Toast that doesn't even need syrup cuz the banana gives lots of sweetness.

Meatballs
1 1b lean ground beef (or turkey or chicken etc. We use island-raised beef because we know where it comes from. I really only like to use organic, locally-raised meat thanks to Jamie Oliver's "pink slime" lecture on Food Revolution-Google it. You'll never look at a burger the same way again. Its worth every penny of expense in my opinion.)
3 eggs (you can substitute applesauce for the eggs-makes it a little sweeter and lower in cholesterol if you watch that sort of thing)
half cup shredded zucchini
half cup shredded carrot
or
1 lb frozen chopped spinach, thawed
or any other veggie you can chop or shred within an inch of its life
quarter to 1/2 cup quick cooking oatmeal
Mix it all together with fork in a bowl. Roll into inch(ish) balls. Put on greased cookie sheet. Bake at 375 for, oh I don't remember, I have to ask Dave every time I bake something. Bake until you cut one open and it looks done.

And finally, I don't know what to call these...Egg Bake Power Bars? Random Shit From The Refrigerator?
Shredded zucchini, carrot, steamed broccoli chopped fine, spinach, again, whatever veggies you want to use, chopped or shredded.
Cooked wild rice
Quick-cooking oatmeal
Eggs
Shredded cheese (sharp cheddar is my favorite because it gives a lot of flavor with a minimum amount used)
(I have no exact quantities because I just threw things in until it was a semi-solid consistency)
Put your concoction in a greased casserole dish and bake at 375 for 30 minutes-ish. Let cool and cut into squares.

Max ate the hell out of all these things. They were easy to handle and broke apart in his mouth so no scary choking-size pieces to deal with. I felt like the most successful chef in the world watching him gobble. And they are all easy to refrigerate and reheat (or eat cold) for on-the-go meals.

Whew. I feel so accomplished. I'd better go eat some graham crackers and Hershey's syrup on the couch until Max wakes up to feel like myself again.

Spaghetti OH!!

One member of the Small family is having a lot of fun with food lately. And by "having fun" I mean "smearing it in one's eyebrows".




And for those of us (me, really) who can't get enough of watching the boy "eat", here's a totally unnecessary video clip. The symbiotic relationship between baby and chihuahua is especially heartwarming, no?

It Happened, It Really Happened....twice

**sigh**

Serves me right for being smug.

Bay Beach

Our recent trip to Green Bay wasn't all hospitals and worrying. We arrived the day before Max's test and spent a wonderful afternoon at Bay Beach. I had never been and wasn't sure what to expect...I couldn't have been more delighted. Bay Beach is an amusement park with a miniature train, carousel, Ferris wheel, wooden rollercoaster (the Zippin Pippin), bumper cars, bumper boats, pony rides (PONY RIDES!! I can't remember the last time I saw pony rides), and myriad other carnival rides. I couldn't put my finger on exactly what makes the place so charming. Its location, in a public park situated on the shore of Lake Michigan? The old-timey feel of the place? The ride tickets for a quarter? The total absence of booths full of crappy toys that entice the most well-behaved children to beg, plead and whine? The 250lb, ponytailed, be-earringed, total stoner dude employed as conductor on the mini train? The history of the Zippin Pippin as Elvis's favorite roller coaster?

Regardless it was a thoroughly enjoyable afternoon.

MR...Ugh

First of all, there really is no question of Max's parentage is there? Second, look at the heads on those babies. Just LOOK at them.

These photos have been on our refrigerator for the last month to help keep me from losing my mind. You see, Max has a big head. An above the 99th percentile head. And until he was 7 months old, it wasn't a concern as he was following the curve. (For the childless, thats the curve on the graph of kids' head sizes. Yes, really.) Then his head grew a half an inch in 6 weeks. Teetering at nearly 19 inches (to give some perspective, the average head size of a year old baby is 18 inches), Max's head growth was now off the charts. I received a phone call from his pediatrician that went something like this:

Ped: "I'm a little concerned. His head growth should be leveling off and its not. We have a couple options. CAT scan or MRI. I prefer the MRI, because there's no radiation exposure, though babies do have to be sedated for the procedure. The risks of sedation are less than the risks of NOT doing the test though, in my opinion. This isn't something I feel comfortable waiting more than a few weeks to do. If there's something wrong, the sooner we know, the better...."

Me: **crying**

Cut to almost 3 weeks of waiting. Waiting for insurance to approve the test. Waiting for the pediatrician's office to coordinate and schedule with the hospital. Waiting to go down to Green Bay for the appointment. Waiting for the results to come back. Waiting, waiting, waiting, with a lead ball in my stomach. Now I know I'm a worrier. Worry is my forte. And for the most part I worry about NOTHING. None of the potential things that could be wrong with a baby's head are "nothing" however. They're all terrible. Hydrocephalus and brain tumors. Brain surgery. Staples in the head. Shunts. Terrible, terrible, and more terrible.


Not to mention the MRI itself. I scour the ingredient list of every single thing I give my child to ingest. We try not to give him too much baby Tylenol or Advil for god's sake. And now he's going to go under IV sedation.

We were reassured over and over again that the test was a precaution. Likely he just has a big head because his parents have big heads and the rapid growth was just a growth spurt. I will not tell you the dark, sad, sick-to-my-stomach places my mind went to upon having my beautiful, joyful little boy's health called into question because those feelings are too intimate and vulnerable. I will just tell you it was terrible.


The scan was scheduled for 10 a.m. but we had to be there at 7:45 for registration, an exam etc. Thank God he's breastfed, because he could nurse up to 4 hours before. At first he was a trooper, flirting with the nurses, playing with all the equipment and toys in the room. Then he got hungry and tired and very very upset when they couldn't find a vein for the IV. Every mom in the world knows how upsetting vaccinations are. This was that times a million. He screamed and screamed and screamed until he was hoarse and gasping. There was this teenage volunteer to there "distract" him, who kept waving a screen playing cartoons in his face, frantically repeating, "Look at the horsey! Look at the sheepy! Look at the doggy!".

I wanted to punch her.

He worked himself into such a state they suggested an anti-anxiety drug. I was like, "yeah, definitely, and can you give something to Max too?"....ba-dump-bum.

Seriously though, it was awful. Watching him go under the anesthetic was awful. Walking with him knocked out, hooked up to things on a hospital bed down to the MRI room was awful. Passing a closed door with a sign that said "chemo in progress" in the pediatric ICU was awful. Leaving and sitting in the waiting room for 45 minutes was awful. Waiting for him to wake up was awful. Waiting for the results was awful.

Me being the psycho that I am, I stared at the anesthesia doctor's inscrutable face as I asked how the scan looked. He claimed no knowledge; "My focus is totally on your child's vital signs blah blah blah". Right.

I called the pediatrician's office immediately after we left the hospital telling them they must call me that day. None of this waiting until tomorrow. Tomorrow?! Are you kidding me...after all this waiting, we were not waiting another 24 hours with those results out there, looming, potentially changing our whole lives. I was giving them 4 hours. Call me dramatic, but psychosis gets results. I heard from the pediatrician by 2:30, a mere 2 1/2 hours after walking out of the hospital. Diagnosis?

Our baby has familial macrocephaly.

Or in plain english, a big head due to genetics.

Beating the Heat

As anyone who lives in this country knows, its been a hot summer. Ungodly hot really. For all of our "built-in air-conditioning" with living on an island in the middle of Lake Michigan, its still been pretty unbearable here. And 90 degrees with 90% humidity does not a happy baby make...but 15 bucks at Menard's does.

Max's Revenge

It Happened, It Really Happened

I've gone back and forth about posting this blog. Something wonderful happened the last 2 nights and I fear bragging about it (because that is indeed what I plan on doing) will probably jinx it and it won't happen again for several years. But dammit I'm thrilled! Shocked! Amazed! Vindicated!

Max slept through the night. Twice!

Well, to be fair, by pediatricians' definitions (5 consecutive hours), he's been sleeping through the night off and on already. But by sane, adult, sleep-deprived mommy definitions, he hasn't since he was 3 months old. He's up at least once, usually twice, sometimes more. And by up, I mean crying, hungry, needing soothing...and there were those few nights, those few, terrible, soul-sucking nights, where he wanted to party from 2 am on. For hours. And he wanted us to party with him. There was no partying solo. I won't go into detail about what we've tried, read, been advised to do etc. Any parent whose child doesn't sleep well (which I firmly believe are most parents. There's a lot of lying/exaggerating/denial out there about baby sleep.) knows what lengths you will go to to get some sleep.

We were advised by many, many, many, many, many, MANY people (including our first pediatrician..notice I say "first". He is no longer our pediatrician, mostly because he was more intent on giving us parenting advice than medical advice, but thats another blog) to sleep-train. For the uninitiated, sleep-training is an approach where you put your kid down drowsy but awake and let him sort out for himself how to fall asleep. The thought is, babies need to learn how to self-soothe and the only way they will do this is if you train them. It almost always involves a combination of timed crying, soothing, patting etc depending on which of the trillion methods you choose to use.

Sleep training isn't for us. The sick to my stomach feeling I get when Max cries (REALLY cries. Not just fussing, struggling crying...screaming, gut-wrenching crying) is not a feeling I feel I should ignore. Instincts are instincts and I've chosen to parent by instinct as much as possible. As a good friend pointed out, I parent as if we lived in a cave. (Stone Age parenting!) Babies are instinctive creatures. Max has no idea the Western world has moved past caves. So until he does, I figure its my job to do things the way he understands for awhile.

That being said, I am very aware I have the luxury of parenting like this. I am home with Max every day, I can nap when he naps, I have a husband who thankfully has moved past the Stone Age and doesn't expect a gleaming house and dinner waiting for him every night (in fact, I'm slightly ashamed to admit he does the lion's share of cooking around here).

Anyway, we commit the cardinal bedtime sin, according to the self-soothing bunch: Max is nursed or bottle-fed to sleep. Every night. We went through 2 hellacious weeks of trying the drowsy-but-awake, pick up/put down, pat and reassure method. 2 weeks. Long enough to "create a habit". And each night was the same. Screaming. Lots of screaming, resulting in an hour plus of bedtime battling, 2 sweaty, stressed, anguished parents and 1 sweaty, stressed, sad, finally sleeping infant. Once we decided "no more", as in no more screaming, sweating or stress, bedtimes have generally been peaceful and sweet and easy. And guess what? He doesn't wake up any more or less.

And for the last TWO nights he has slept like a champ. That isn't to say he doesn't wake. I heard him at around 2 and 4, babbling. I even snuck into his room to check on him and witnessed him rolling around, playing with his feet, "ba ba ba"ing away. So I went back to bed and fell asleep. SO DID HE. By himself! He self-soothed! Twice! In the middle of the night! Two nights in a row! Despite what some "baby sleep experts" (how DOES one earn that appellation?) say, "If you're rocked to sleep, nursed to sleep, fed to sleep at bedtime, you're going to need that every time you wake up."

(Read more: http://www.time.com/time/health/article/0,8599,1904288,00.html#ixzz1Seiykfxf ...or don't. Its articles like this one, entitled "Advice for Coddling Parents: Put Baby to Bed Alone" that led to the 2 weeks of bad bedtimes, and my self-doubt regarding my instincts. I take exception and offense when I read stuff like this now. I get ANGRY. Coddling. Really? Thats really why I'm writing this blog and bragging about my kid self-soothing in his own damn good time despite our "unhealthy bedtime coddling"-puke puke puke bullshit bullshit bullshit-in hopes some poor, self-doubting, sleep-deprived mama is searching the vast interwebs for SOME anecdotal evidence that her instincts aren't wrong. That she comes across this blog and learns if she nurses/cuddles/rocks and soothes her tiny, sweet baby to sleep and responds to his cries he will not become an "anxious adult" [my former ped's words] and will learn to self-soothe when he is developmentally ready.)

Now I don't want to piss off every parent who has sleep-trained their kid. Cuz I know lots of good parents who have done it, and it worked, and the kid sleeps like a champ, no worse for the wear. I know by now what works in one family doesn't work in another. I know what goes on in the wee hours of my house is never going to be the same as what goes on in the wee hours of another. I know I don't have other children to worry about. I know I don't have a job to go to every day (though if you want to tell me what I and thousands of other stay-at-home moms do every day isn't work, I might punch you in the face. But thats another blog.) I know all babies are individuals and some may have a steeper sleep learning curve than others and extra help with self-soothing skills is necessary. I also know Max will probably need us again in the night and there's more sleeplessness in our future...but now I'm even more affirmed that responding is the right thing to do. He is clearly capable of self-soothing, so if he cries it means there is something-be it hunger, thirst, cold, heat, teething pain, tummy pain, developmental leaping, fright, sadness, loneliness-he can't handle on his own because he's 7 MONTHS OLD.

I don't think sleep-training is cruel, not at all. I DO think leaving a baby to cry himself to sleep alone in a dark room is cruel and any sleep researching a@#hole in a lab coat who says otherwise and writes judge-y, scolding articles that get published in national magazines and make parents mistrust their instincts needs their chamomile tea, glass of wine, Tylenol PM, loved one's warm body, down comforter, 1000 thread count sheets, or whatever sleep crutch they use taken away. See how they like it.

Away We Went

We took Max to Milwaukee for almost a week to visit family. The days were chock full of activity and seeing Max's curiosity and interest in everything was a joy. I think its important to strike a balance between stability/routine and spontaneity/new experiences. However, we may have overdone it, as this photographic montage suggests.

I got my Indian food fix and Max tried some. He loved everything but the mint chutney...a little spicy.




Baby's first Summerfest:


Having a go on the bongos...I plan on putting him on the street corner with a tip jar pretty soon:


This is what I used to look like after a day at Summerfest...and about 12 beers:



Eyyyyyy...



A donkey ride at the Kurt Petting Zoo and Wildlife Center (aka my Grandfather's house):



And his first time in a big boy swing:




I'm tired just posting this blog. Max is a trooper, but I think next time we'll dial down the pace a little bit.

Christmas in July

If I were the sort of person who gets around to sending Christmas cards, this photo would be on them. However, I am not, and so...


HAPPY HOLIDAYS FROM THE SMALL FAMILY

Independence Day...Late

Its no big shocker that I'm a tardy blog poster. But as Dave reminded me, writing this blog has been something I like to do in my spare time...and none of my time has been spare lately. Its summertime and the livin' may be easy, but its also BUSY (easy and busy are probably mutually exclusive, but I don't have time to quibble). The island is hopping, the weather is beautiful (finally), and we've been nonstop since Father's Day. The good news is I've been dutifully recording every magic moment.

Dave's family was in town, leading to several adorable cousin encounters, as well as the discovery that tree trunk baby thighs and Stay-Puf marshmallow feet are genetic gifts bestowed on both Emerson and Max.



With some reservation, we took Max to the island parade and fireworks. Its not that I was worried he'd be scared, it was more that the fireworks started at 9:00, two full hours past baby bedtime. What sort of overtired twitching screaming monster would this parenting decision result in? I was semi-convinced he'd become the ultimate baby sleep
horror story: day/night confused.

In typical Max fashion, he surprised me with his adaptability. He loved the parade, waving his little flag with patriotic fervor. He fell asleep right before the big bang began and slept through half of them (without a TWITCH. This from the child who wakes from a dead sleep when we try to lower him 2 feet into his Pack-N-Play.) He was mostly awestruck upon waking, but held tightly to my arm, made a few worried "mmmmmmm"s, and squinted a lot.





Even after getting to bed past 11:00, Max still seems to know the difference between night and day. Clearly he's got my brains.

Daddy-O

Happy Father's Day!

Life's A Beach

We went to Schoolhouse Beach today for the first of what will be many days enjoying the sun, water...and rocks. That's right, for those of you who aren't familiar, Schoolhouse is a stone beach. White stones line the shore, making for a pretty view, but it does require some creative maneuvering (and lots of blankets) to comfortably sunbathe. It was a beautiful day.






Max had watermelon for the first time and loved it. Its the first food he's actually taken bites out of and swallowed.





Per usual, I brought a bucket full of toys which sat ignored while he played with (and attempted to eat) the rocks. Silly mother.

Dear Max

You are 6 months old. In that short (endless) time I think we've done alright. You are almost triple your birth weight and your brain is growing at an alarming rate based on the size of your head. We finally have a semblance of a schedule and you nap for longer than 30 minutes (with only a teeny bit of help from me). You sit up by yourself, roll over (front to back), smile at strangers, emit a variety of sounds other than crying (baa, gaa, shrieking, shouting, and the most annoying bleating/whining noise I can only think means "please Mama, leave me on the side of a mountain.")

I live for your belly laughs, toothless grins and curly little toes. (They were peeking at me while you were napping the other day, just begging to be eaten. You don't know how close you came to being footless.) You're working on your first tooth-I can see the pointy little edges pushing through your gums. You're being pretty brave about it, but I know it hurts you sometimes (see aforementioned bleating/whining noise). You've started crying when I leave your sight, a development that makes the baby jail walls close in around me and my heart expand to bursting all at once.

I love watching you try to figure things out, your little eyebrows scrunching as you realize, "OOOOOOOOHHHHHHH, my toy is UNDER the blanket!". You don't really like (ie: scream bloody murder) getting your diaper changed lately, something that is profoundly annoying considering its something we need to do for awhile. I want you to sleep a little longer at night, but never want our early morning snuggle sessions to end.

You have turned me into every motherhood cliche. I can barely remember what my life was like without you, the time is going too fast, yoga pants and a ponytail IS appropriate for everyday wear, the idea of an afternoon to myself leaves me reeling with the possibilities, I struggle to find topics of conversation other than you, and taking care of you is the hardest job I've ever done.

You are my heart, little boy, out in the world and I love you.

Ketchup

I've really fallen behind in the blogging department this month. Its a lot like what happens when you go too long between talking to an old dear friend. So much happens, and the more time passes, the more daunting playing catch-up becomes. Suddenly years have gone by and you're being invited to the friend's kid's wedding and you're all, "where does the time go?" So before that happens and I find myself at my blog's kid's wedding, here's where time has gone in May:

Max sits up all on his own for long periods of time, happily playing with his current favorite toys-a Playskool bus and an empty box. No end to the delights of watching me put little toys in the box so he can dump them out. No. End.

We just got back from a trip to Madison for a good friend's wedding. It was beautiful. My mom met us and hung out with Max (introducing him to State Street and a homeless Vietnam vet named Stick who is apparently Max's new bff) while Dave and I got dressed up and had a fantastic time. I think it was a first for me since Max was born in several ways. I had my first hangover, first time being called a MILF (in front of my husband who responded by fist-pumping) and my first night out where I didn't anxiously obsess over what my child was doing without me.





Max started solids and I started working. I'm renting a chair at a salon and loving it. I got to make my own brochures, pricing, hours etc. Its exciting to be self-employed and also nice to get out of the house and develop an island identity apart from Max's mom and Dave's wife. It was while I was at work one Saturday morning that Daddy decided to give Max cereal. Without me! I wasn't mad...just surprised. A good time was had by all and I think it was a good "first" for Dave to have with his son. Since then, we've been following the Baby Led Weaning approach (I kind of hate that every single parenting decision has a capitalized title. Why can't it just be "giving my kid the same food we eat, including him in our mealtimes and letting him play with textures and tastes until he figures out what he likes and doesn't like and how much he wants to eat, all while continuing to nurse him on demand as his main source of nutrition until at he's at least one year old"?) So far its messy and interesting. Not really any food makes it into his mouth. He's just experimenting right now...however, he seems to like bell peppers, seaweed and tamari rice cakes (I know. What?), and what he had for breakfast this morning-Cheerios, plain yogurt and breastmilk all smooshed together.



And finally...Max is learning to drive!

Mothers

There are three people I've been thinking about the last few days, with my first Mother's Day being this weekend...

To my mother-in-law, for the nights of sleeping on a nursery floor, lunch breaks expressing milk in your car, working around catnaps, chasing a toddler dashing for the road, comforting night terrors, and the million other things you did to shape the man I love, I thank you from the bottom of my heart. Your son is kind, fair, honest, sensitive, loyal, supportive, funny, smart, patient and a wonderful father and husband. I think about how lucky I am to have him in my life every day.

To my mom, I'm just beginning to realize how impossible it is to thank you for everything. How one day a year dedicated to mom is kind of hilarious considering the blood, sweat and tears (very literally) poured into raising a child. And I've only been at it for five months! Its humbling to realize, as I'm peeling poo-filled socks off my child's feet, someone once did the same for me. I was a tiny, helpless black hole of needs and demands, a wee tyrant who screamed bloody murder (and that's not even covering my teen years), and you unfailingly and lovingly gave and gave and gave, over and over and over. You still do. I'm sorry it took 31 years for me to realize the debt of gratitude I owe you...I don't think I could realize it until I became a mother myself...

Which brings me to my little son...you are a sweet, funny, cuddly handful who is teaching me things every day. So far, lessons include: live in the moment as much as possible. Don't set myself up for disappointment by thinking too far ahead. This too shall pass. Three sleepless nights of being a human pacifier does not mean I'll never sleep again. Temporarily turning off the mom-brain takes exactly two and a half beers or twenty laps in the rec center pool. Coffee is the nectar of life. Grunting and straining ALWAYS means poo. ALWAYS. (Do not ignore this or your husband will end up trying to shove your down comforter into the washing machine at 7 p.m.) I need other people. Ask for help. Breathing a sigh of relief when I leave the house to go work for a few hours does not make me a bad mom. Adapt. Trust my gut. Don't Google. Listen to my baby. And every day is a gift.

Oh, and a wonderful weekend with my little family makes me a very sappy mommy indeed.

Happy Mother's Day!

For Your Viewing Pleasure

I know Dave's not ripping paper, but I think this deserves to go viral.

Why Buy Toys?

Island Spring

We're taking walks again! Max loves being in his carrier (Baby K'tan, highly recommend), loves the fresh air and loves taking in all the sights of his island home. I love the exercise, getting out of the house and watching his little face as he sees and smells and hears things for the first time.

Desperate Times...

"Hello my name is Max and I'm a catnapper."

My son is the master of the 30 minute nap. You can set a watch by him. I've tried everything apart from crying it out (not an option for us). Elizabeth Pantley's "The No-Cry Sleep Solution" was illuminating and informative regarding baby sleep cycles and helped me identify little man's problem-he has trouble getting through the transition from the first sleep cycle to a deeper one-but unfortunately, none of her suggestions worked. I will refrain from going into detail about my psychotic weeks of naptime rituals, frustrations, white noise, sheets over the windows, swaddling and unswaddling, bouncing, rocking, lullabying and sitting in a dark room waiting for a sleeping baby's eyes to flicker. Its too embarassing. Occasionally a car ride or holding him on my chest would work. And then there was that one time he actually napped for TWO HOURS on his back in his Pack N Play. What??!! Why??? How??? I was practically foaming at the mouth with excitement. We had turned a corner! Smooth sailing from here on out!

Yeah well, don't count your nap minutes until they've hatched. Or something. The now legendary 2 hour Pack N Play nap was a fluke. A freak. Never to be seen around these parts again.

I had pretty much given up. Resigned myself to Max's 30 minute nap schedule and proceeded with life around it. Each child is an individual after all. But I couldn't get the nagging thought out of my mind that Max NEEDED longer naps to get the restorative and developmental benefits they bring. Whether I got things done around the house or longer naps myself was immaterial. So I tried one more thing. The ultimate baby sleep taboo. I put Max on his stomach. On the couch, with a crocheted blanket over him (blocks out light but not air) and classical music on the stereo (because I'm highbrow like that). And patted and shush'd him to sleep. Then I sat next to him on the couch and watched his little back rise and fall with breaths. When the 25 minute mark came up I patted and shush'd him more. Got him through the transition and he slept for an hour and a half! I didn't get anything done because I was too busy watching him breathe. But it worked. Then I did it the next day. And it worked again! Next time between patting and shushing I went online, watched TV, did some dishes, all while keeping his little breathing back in my sight line. Now it doesn't work 100% of the time, but it works often enough for me to keep doing it. I know it goes against pediatrician's advice but at my wit's end, with a babe who has a short fuse by the end of a day of 30 minute naps...what's a mom to do? Do the benefits outweigh the risks? I think so. It helps he's 4 months old and can hold his head up pretty well and is rolling over(!) and more mobile. I wouldn't let him sleep on his tummy for nighttime or anytime he wasn't in my sight line. And I do think he'll get to the point where he can transition on his own without patting and shushing, but I'll help him get there in the meantime.

Just one more thing I've learned about my job as a mama-I'm here to watch my kid's back until he can do it on his own.

(And even then, I'll still be watching it.)

Baby-Eating

I could do this all day. Poor kid.

Giddy Up

My husband is a big kid. As a result, his son laughs hysterically at the mere sight of him and his niece and nephew anticipate his visits with great excitement. Their parents do too as Uncle Dave entertains the kids for hours and wipes them out completely. I imagine Tommy and Anna layed around in a coma-like stupor for a day or two after our last visit. They got a couple inches of snow while we were there and a snowman, snow fort (with tunnel) and a snow slide were all created in the yard. And of course, right before bed, roughhousing ensued. I caught some of the antics on camera:

The Family Way

We spent some time with family off-island recently and have the pictures to prove it.


An early lesson in pacifism with Great Uncle Jonathan:



Helping Great Grandma celebrate her 86th birthday:


And finally meeting cousins Tommy and Anna...Max clearly loves them!