Monday, June 25, 2007
Sunday, June 24, 2007
happy burfday to me
I'm officially holding up the beautiful side of 40.
My boys gave me the greatest gifts a mother could ask for today. K made me a delightful 1 liter bottle of perfume in a garden spray bottle.
I was a little afraid of spraying it on my skin, but upon further questioning I gathered it was made from water and some sort of liquid lavender soap.
Q made me a true treasure. It is a 2-qt rubbermaid container filled with water and bits of grasses and herbs from the garden.
They were besides themselves with joy to celebrate my birthday with me. Again, another 'bits of joy' experience.
Today I took them to one of those ceramic painting places so they could make some tiles for me. We painted for over three hours.
When we got into the van with all of our artistic elements spent, Q said, "Mama, I forgot it was your birthday while we were in there! My brain was so full of other stuff."
My boys gave me the greatest gifts a mother could ask for today. K made me a delightful 1 liter bottle of perfume in a garden spray bottle.
I was a little afraid of spraying it on my skin, but upon further questioning I gathered it was made from water and some sort of liquid lavender soap.
Q made me a true treasure. It is a 2-qt rubbermaid container filled with water and bits of grasses and herbs from the garden.
They were besides themselves with joy to celebrate my birthday with me. Again, another 'bits of joy' experience.
Today I took them to one of those ceramic painting places so they could make some tiles for me. We painted for over three hours.
When we got into the van with all of our artistic elements spent, Q said, "Mama, I forgot it was your birthday while we were in there! My brain was so full of other stuff."
Friday, June 22, 2007
someone to herd em
the dog is great. really.
he does some things however i wonder about.
we suspect he is a Labrador retriever mixed with a border collie.
he has a sweet gentle disposition like a lab, but is really smart.
he does this thing though that is a mystery to me. it appears he tries to herd us, particularly the kids. sometimes he'll just knock his head into them and nudge them one way or the other.
sometimes if the kids are running, or flailing about he'll nip at their heals. OK by "kids" i mean Mr. Q the 4 year old.
With the baby, I've seen them standing next to each other then suddenly move him straight sideways with the trunk of his body.
if I were smarter, i'd learn how to use this herding thing to my advantage....
"Leo....get the boys! Make them go potty! put on their shoes and get into the van before I have to raise my volume"
he does some things however i wonder about.
we suspect he is a Labrador retriever mixed with a border collie.
he has a sweet gentle disposition like a lab, but is really smart.
he does this thing though that is a mystery to me. it appears he tries to herd us, particularly the kids. sometimes he'll just knock his head into them and nudge them one way or the other.
sometimes if the kids are running, or flailing about he'll nip at their heals. OK by "kids" i mean Mr. Q the 4 year old.
With the baby, I've seen them standing next to each other then suddenly move him straight sideways with the trunk of his body.
if I were smarter, i'd learn how to use this herding thing to my advantage....
"Leo....get the boys! Make them go potty! put on their shoes and get into the van before I have to raise my volume"
Wednesday, June 20, 2007
lost diapers
"How was your day?" my friend asked me today knowing that there was a story to be had in there somewhere.
As she asked this, one brother hit the other with a guitar sending shock waves through the dry wall. And then the baby walked into the room with nothing but a smile on.
I neglected to reinforce his diaper as I've had to do lately. I use industrial strength tape to keep the diaper on the baby. It really is a necessity.
Of course the first child would never think to take off his diaper all the time, since I was on that kid's every move.
The second child had this same issue with diaper removal. I used the blue painter's tape on him too.
I start the roll at the back of the diaper and wrap it around his waist to keep him from pulling the tabs open.
Sunday, June 17, 2007
The summer of survival
I want to post video on my blog, but that would require a new skill. I don't have time for new skills right now. I focus on the survival. It is summer afterall.
Tonight as I tucked the oldest into bed I said, "Good night, my sweet boy. My first-born child."
To which he replied, "Yeah, I had it good back then didn't I? I had three years all to myself, before my bossy little brother came along."
Oh yes, I'm thinking of a cliche, wait....oh yes something about the pot calling the kettle black.
This month marks the first full year of the sibling fighting. I remember it well....last summer was clearly the first time the two oldest brothers started to fight.... and they really haven't stopped since.
I wrote this little note.....
JUNE 2006
This is the summer it begins, I suppose. It was bound to happen, but how was I to know it would be so soon?
This morning my two oldest boys woke at their summer sleep-in time of 8am and came downstairs to the excitement of another morning. This week they are going to vacation bible school, which they just love, better than school with more crafts, songs and yummier snacks.
There comes a point of time that every mother with two children dreads. Mine came this morning. I call it the yogurt splitter reckoning. They make six packs of kids' yogurt with three flavors on one side, three different ones on the other. My boys need to have most things they same or better than they other guy. So in the case of yogurt, each kid can eat the same flavor twice, but then there comes the dreadful day when one will have to get a different kind than his brother. You think, no big deal, yogurt is yogurt. Ah yes but that would mean you do not have a child under the age of say, seven. Because one you see has an alligator guy with sunglasses and the other may have a polar bear playing an electric guitar, which if you are three-years-old makes all the difference in the world.
I can usually head off problems by saying, “you get what you get and don't have a fit.”
This morning I thought that perhaps the ebullient mood would distract the junior occupants from yogurt flavor. Oh how wrong I was.
As I'm doing some banal job in the kitchen K, the 6-year-old, says in that poke you in the eye, sing song voice, “I have strawberry banana, and you don't.” Oh no, here we go. Did the president of the United States walk into this room with THE briefcase nicknamed “the football” and push that big red nuclear bomb button by mistake? There is no turning back. The order of what happens next is a blur of tears, finger pointing and banishment to the garage to work things out, and then I had to deal with the kids. You know, I am the grown-up, and as I sit here drinking my Diet Coke in the air conditioning while they are in bible school singing “Love is patient. Love is kind.” I can tell you there are better ways to handle things. I ended it all with an empty threat to never buy yogurt again.
Who would have thought that real sibling rivalry would have begun so soon? They are after all only 6 and 3. We were in Target last week and I spotted the t-shirts that said it all, “Sister for Sale.” “It's my brother's fault.” I could have thought of that. Why not capitalize off of your struggles? My t-shirt would say, “How many times do I have to tell you?” “Please don't touch the cat's butt,” or “Please take the salami off your brother's head.” All words that have actually come out of my mouth.
My husband and I happened to come across some video clips we had saved on our computer last year. The boys were in the midst of preparing for one of their many musical shows in the family room. The shows are complete with instruments, vocals, live microphones, canned background music and are almost always performed in underwear. As two-year-old Q knelt readying his microphone, the older brother rushes up behind him, grabs his arm, peels the mike from his fingers and heads to the fireplace hearth to become the star of the show. Without complaint, Q finds another microphone; it is a broken headset microphone with no headpiece. He shoves it in his mouth and holds it between his teeth to gurgle the backup lyrics to a made-up song by his older brother, while strumming a blue electric guitar.
This year however, we are entering a new era. Three-year-old Q has developed a very vocal mind of his own and very keen sense of injustice. Though he stills spends most of the day following his older sibling around being the student to his brother's teacher, the doggy to his man, the passenger to his' bus driver/engineer, you name it. The minute Q tries, does or suggests something different is when it all begins.
At first, K does try to explain the reasons why he must be the boss and the leader calmly at first, but lately it usually just goes into the full-blown argument. It usually escalates until Q shouts, “I'm gonna trade you for a sister.”
Sadly though he doesn't know that would probably be just the beginning of his problems. Being one and having a sister of my own, I remember the rough spots with both my brother and sister. I am the youngest by about a decade. Despite the age span we still found ways to fight without a problem.
Remember this one in the days before the remote control? “Hey, go change it to channel five,” my teenage brother would order from the white pleather chair. “Why do I have to always be the one to change the channel, ” I would lip back.
“Because you are closer,” he would say. Upon which I would get up and move across the room to the distance the furthest from the TV and say in true bratty little sister form, “No I'm not. Now you are closer.” The inventor of the TV remote clearly must have been the youngest sibling.
Somehow I can talk myself into the fact that the arguing is good for them. These are the battlegrounds for later in life. Siblings are the safe zone where we learn how to get along or not get along with others and pick up the skills for conflict resolution and problem solving.
In the meantime, I wait until my boys leave the kitchen and alone at last, eat all the cotton candy and kiwi banana flavored yogurts by myself.
Anything in the name of peace.
-end-
Tonight as I tucked the oldest into bed I said, "Good night, my sweet boy. My first-born child."
To which he replied, "Yeah, I had it good back then didn't I? I had three years all to myself, before my bossy little brother came along."
Oh yes, I'm thinking of a cliche, wait....oh yes something about the pot calling the kettle black.
This month marks the first full year of the sibling fighting. I remember it well....last summer was clearly the first time the two oldest brothers started to fight.... and they really haven't stopped since.
I wrote this little note.....
JUNE 2006
This is the summer it begins, I suppose. It was bound to happen, but how was I to know it would be so soon?
This morning my two oldest boys woke at their summer sleep-in time of 8am and came downstairs to the excitement of another morning. This week they are going to vacation bible school, which they just love, better than school with more crafts, songs and yummier snacks.
There comes a point of time that every mother with two children dreads. Mine came this morning. I call it the yogurt splitter reckoning. They make six packs of kids' yogurt with three flavors on one side, three different ones on the other. My boys need to have most things they same or better than they other guy. So in the case of yogurt, each kid can eat the same flavor twice, but then there comes the dreadful day when one will have to get a different kind than his brother. You think, no big deal, yogurt is yogurt. Ah yes but that would mean you do not have a child under the age of say, seven. Because one you see has an alligator guy with sunglasses and the other may have a polar bear playing an electric guitar, which if you are three-years-old makes all the difference in the world.
I can usually head off problems by saying, “you get what you get and don't have a fit.”
This morning I thought that perhaps the ebullient mood would distract the junior occupants from yogurt flavor. Oh how wrong I was.
As I'm doing some banal job in the kitchen K, the 6-year-old, says in that poke you in the eye, sing song voice, “I have strawberry banana, and you don't.” Oh no, here we go. Did the president of the United States walk into this room with THE briefcase nicknamed “the football” and push that big red nuclear bomb button by mistake? There is no turning back. The order of what happens next is a blur of tears, finger pointing and banishment to the garage to work things out, and then I had to deal with the kids. You know, I am the grown-up, and as I sit here drinking my Diet Coke in the air conditioning while they are in bible school singing “Love is patient. Love is kind.” I can tell you there are better ways to handle things. I ended it all with an empty threat to never buy yogurt again.
Who would have thought that real sibling rivalry would have begun so soon? They are after all only 6 and 3. We were in Target last week and I spotted the t-shirts that said it all, “Sister for Sale.” “It's my brother's fault.” I could have thought of that. Why not capitalize off of your struggles? My t-shirt would say, “How many times do I have to tell you?” “Please don't touch the cat's butt,” or “Please take the salami off your brother's head.” All words that have actually come out of my mouth.
My husband and I happened to come across some video clips we had saved on our computer last year. The boys were in the midst of preparing for one of their many musical shows in the family room. The shows are complete with instruments, vocals, live microphones, canned background music and are almost always performed in underwear. As two-year-old Q knelt readying his microphone, the older brother rushes up behind him, grabs his arm, peels the mike from his fingers and heads to the fireplace hearth to become the star of the show. Without complaint, Q finds another microphone; it is a broken headset microphone with no headpiece. He shoves it in his mouth and holds it between his teeth to gurgle the backup lyrics to a made-up song by his older brother, while strumming a blue electric guitar.
This year however, we are entering a new era. Three-year-old Q has developed a very vocal mind of his own and very keen sense of injustice. Though he stills spends most of the day following his older sibling around being the student to his brother's teacher, the doggy to his man, the passenger to his' bus driver/engineer, you name it. The minute Q tries, does or suggests something different is when it all begins.
At first, K does try to explain the reasons why he must be the boss and the leader calmly at first, but lately it usually just goes into the full-blown argument. It usually escalates until Q shouts, “I'm gonna trade you for a sister.”
Sadly though he doesn't know that would probably be just the beginning of his problems. Being one and having a sister of my own, I remember the rough spots with both my brother and sister. I am the youngest by about a decade. Despite the age span we still found ways to fight without a problem.
Remember this one in the days before the remote control? “Hey, go change it to channel five,” my teenage brother would order from the white pleather chair. “Why do I have to always be the one to change the channel, ” I would lip back.
“Because you are closer,” he would say. Upon which I would get up and move across the room to the distance the furthest from the TV and say in true bratty little sister form, “No I'm not. Now you are closer.” The inventor of the TV remote clearly must have been the youngest sibling.
Somehow I can talk myself into the fact that the arguing is good for them. These are the battlegrounds for later in life. Siblings are the safe zone where we learn how to get along or not get along with others and pick up the skills for conflict resolution and problem solving.
In the meantime, I wait until my boys leave the kitchen and alone at last, eat all the cotton candy and kiwi banana flavored yogurts by myself.
Anything in the name of peace.
-end-
Friday, June 15, 2007
Monday, June 11, 2007
Wednesday, June 06, 2007
blog
I've played a little with the look of the blog, just for fun.
The new picture is taken at the Georgia Aquarium last week.
I discovered today that they make Baked Cheetos and Baked Doritoes.
Have I mentioned the baby is in to everything? My house looks like Goodwill threw up in here.
I've figured out a new name for Starbucks...."A three dollar vacation"
The new picture is taken at the Georgia Aquarium last week.
I discovered today that they make Baked Cheetos and Baked Doritoes.
Have I mentioned the baby is in to everything? My house looks like Goodwill threw up in here.
I've figured out a new name for Starbucks...."A three dollar vacation"
Thursday, May 31, 2007
Sunday, May 20, 2007
There was a time, BC (before children) when I pictured summer break with my handsome well-behaved children.....it went something like this.....
Rising in the morning naturally by our own bio-clocks....mixing our own organic granola in the morning, crafting macrame wall hangings, swimming, catching fire flies....maybe one more trip to the craft table before bed time.......
And then my reality set in....really the only thing we do on this list is go swimming.
I really have every intention to let them catch lightning bugs, but the West Nile mosquitoes swarm at that time. Also with the coming climate apocalypse, there aren't any to be found. Perhaps because of all the chemicals we douse our lawns with .
Now I look at my summer calendar and see vast expanses of gloom and doom, I must find something for these rascals to do. Last summer was the first year the two oldest ones began to fight. It was exhausting before that, but it became even harder mentally last year.
I used to scoff at the moms who sent their kids to these summer "camps." Something, I may add, we never had growing up. We just drove our parents nuts. "I'm bored."....."Go out and play."
And we did usually. I'd be gone from morning til night....coming back occasionally to eat.
Anyway....This is the first year I'll be entering the world of the summer camps. The older two will do two Vacation Bible Schools, one science and technology camp and one soccer camp.
This is why I work....to have enough money for the extra stuff...for Q to go to a special kindergarten, for soccer camps, organic fruits....and good shoes for the baby.
Plus I get to eat my Chick fil-A salad and Diet Coke in peace.
What a blessed life I lead.
Rising in the morning naturally by our own bio-clocks....mixing our own organic granola in the morning, crafting macrame wall hangings, swimming, catching fire flies....maybe one more trip to the craft table before bed time.......
And then my reality set in....really the only thing we do on this list is go swimming.
I really have every intention to let them catch lightning bugs, but the West Nile mosquitoes swarm at that time. Also with the coming climate apocalypse, there aren't any to be found. Perhaps because of all the chemicals we douse our lawns with .
Now I look at my summer calendar and see vast expanses of gloom and doom, I must find something for these rascals to do. Last summer was the first year the two oldest ones began to fight. It was exhausting before that, but it became even harder mentally last year.
I used to scoff at the moms who sent their kids to these summer "camps." Something, I may add, we never had growing up. We just drove our parents nuts. "I'm bored."....."Go out and play."
And we did usually. I'd be gone from morning til night....coming back occasionally to eat.
Anyway....This is the first year I'll be entering the world of the summer camps. The older two will do two Vacation Bible Schools, one science and technology camp and one soccer camp.
This is why I work....to have enough money for the extra stuff...for Q to go to a special kindergarten, for soccer camps, organic fruits....and good shoes for the baby.
Plus I get to eat my Chick fil-A salad and Diet Coke in peace.
What a blessed life I lead.
Monday, May 14, 2007
For these reasons, we are best friends
It is not uncommon to find these two getting into things. I just happened to notice they had snuck away and were very quiet. When I walked upon this scene.... in fact if I weren't around them, who knows what they could get into. mother's day is everyday
Hello,
Happy birthday to my So.Cal sister!
To celebrate, I spent the day purging. I am overwhelmed by the clutter.
When the boy that Q carpools with asked him what he wanted for his birthday. He sighed and said, "really, we have too much stuff. The toys are just everywhere." The girl I share driving duties reported said it was as if MY voice was coming from the back of the SUV.
So this dear heart of a friend kept Q for a playdate and I tackled the toy room.
I'm ready to get real about the clothes in my closet too. It is true by the time I can fit into stuff again, I'm not going to be the same person anymore.
Here is one tidbit from the kids' traditional mother's day papers they fill out.
My mom is as pretty as....."MY DOG LEO."
Speaking of Leo, have I mentioned I've got the best dog EVER.
Happy birthday to my So.Cal sister!
To celebrate, I spent the day purging. I am overwhelmed by the clutter.
When the boy that Q carpools with asked him what he wanted for his birthday. He sighed and said, "really, we have too much stuff. The toys are just everywhere." The girl I share driving duties reported said it was as if MY voice was coming from the back of the SUV.
So this dear heart of a friend kept Q for a playdate and I tackled the toy room.
I'm ready to get real about the clothes in my closet too. It is true by the time I can fit into stuff again, I'm not going to be the same person anymore.
Here is one tidbit from the kids' traditional mother's day papers they fill out.
My mom is as pretty as....."MY DOG LEO."
Speaking of Leo, have I mentioned I've got the best dog EVER.
Thursday, May 10, 2007
the asylum
It really is a wonder I'm not crazier than I already am.
Sometimes I wonder if I have unwittingly been put into one of those psychology experiments, where scientists are observing me to see if I will really lose it.
The characters walk around here in imaginary states, babbling gibber-jabber, creating strange new characters and voices. My 7-year-old greets me in the morning with no good morning or hello. It is, "you know, if you rode on the alien express backwards you would end up 750 billions years ago."
My four year-old utters strange expressions at nearly every utterance. Lately he finds the words "yell" and "fart" particularly amusing. So imagine greeting the clerk in the grocery line, she will make some sweet comment and ask the small child how he is doing. He responds, "Yelling." blink. blink. stare.
She looks at me for a translation or an explanation of his Torette's Syndrome.
Words in sweet children's songs are laced with the words, "fart" or "yell." So much so that I don't even notice anymore. In fact, I'm not even sure I know what the right words are anymore.
Sometimes I wonder if I have unwittingly been put into one of those psychology experiments, where scientists are observing me to see if I will really lose it.
The characters walk around here in imaginary states, babbling gibber-jabber, creating strange new characters and voices. My 7-year-old greets me in the morning with no good morning or hello. It is, "you know, if you rode on the alien express backwards you would end up 750 billions years ago."
My four year-old utters strange expressions at nearly every utterance. Lately he finds the words "yell" and "fart" particularly amusing. So imagine greeting the clerk in the grocery line, she will make some sweet comment and ask the small child how he is doing. He responds, "Yelling." blink. blink. stare.
She looks at me for a translation or an explanation of his Torette's Syndrome.
Words in sweet children's songs are laced with the words, "fart" or "yell." So much so that I don't even notice anymore. In fact, I'm not even sure I know what the right words are anymore.
Wednesday, May 02, 2007
Saturday, April 28, 2007
did i do this to him?
I thought I had given the baby measles.
I had the doctor split up the MMR vaccine for KC. So instead of getting all three vaccines in one stick, I'm drawing out the pain and the copays over time.
Honestly, this little baby is not really where he should be with his verbal skills. I'm only mildly worried since he does seem to understand many things, can hear, point out body parts, do a little sign language and afterall he is my THIRD.
But until we are out of the autism woods, I didn't want to take any chances.
He had the measles part of his immunization series a few weeks ago. This week he spikes a temperature for a few days and then Friday his fever went away and he had small pink dots all over his face and truck. By the evening, his dots were red and multiplying.
Last night he really just didn't want to be asleep which is WHOLE other story.
It could be roseola....measles....chicken pox....I just want it to go away
I had the doctor split up the MMR vaccine for KC. So instead of getting all three vaccines in one stick, I'm drawing out the pain and the copays over time.
Honestly, this little baby is not really where he should be with his verbal skills. I'm only mildly worried since he does seem to understand many things, can hear, point out body parts, do a little sign language and afterall he is my THIRD.
But until we are out of the autism woods, I didn't want to take any chances.
He had the measles part of his immunization series a few weeks ago. This week he spikes a temperature for a few days and then Friday his fever went away and he had small pink dots all over his face and truck. By the evening, his dots were red and multiplying.
Last night he really just didn't want to be asleep which is WHOLE other story.
It could be roseola....measles....chicken pox....I just want it to go away
Thursday, April 26, 2007
Sunday, April 22, 2007
where's my baby?
I uncovered this little essay....I wrote it 9 months ago when my baby wasn't even a toddler yet.
This was clearly a mother that had not yet discovered the joys of Zoloft
.....................................................................................................................................
I walked by the computer today and a screen saver picture caught my eye. In the endless loop of snapshots that have been saved on the computer, I saw the face of a baby I didn't know anymore.
My baby is now nine months old. He is pulling up and rolling and inchworm crawling his way around the house despite my attempts to keep him corralled.
The baby in the picture was smiling and lounging in a bouncy chair. The baby couldn't sit up on his own. He needed me to move him every which way, to hold him upright so the burps could come straight up, to lay him on his back and keep the SIDS monsters away. Now he wriggles from room to room, scoops Cheerios with ease and crams them into his mouth.
I know it is too soon to start the lament of where has my baby gone? After all he still is very much a baby. Last night I rocked him slowly in my arms and wept. I felt so sorry for this sweet baby. He has me, the tired older mother of THREE boys. Nowadays I try to plan my summer days with enough activities to keep the two older boys from fighting. I feed them, wipe them, clean their messes; I survive.
The first boy got the young, newer fresher me. I read to him for hours, bathed him daily, changed his clothes at the first evidence of a drip, planned baby play dates, and enrolled him in Gymboree. What was I thinking?
I never left my first son K except for maybe when I had a doctor's appointment. My husband kept him in the car and waited for me until I could return. God forbid I would have to take him in there with me because of the dreadful viruses and diseases that doctor's offices breed. K didn't have a babysitter until he was nearly three. And that was only because I had to attend my mother's funeral.
Child number three knows all the fine ladies in the church's nursery very well. He smiles, cooes and holds his arms up to complete strangers. He's already stayed on his own with his godmother, a neighbor lady and a 15-year old babysitter with ease.
They say you are more relaxed the more children you have. Relaxed is a nice word for exhausted. Exhausted is what I really am.
I know you are not supposed to compare your children, so here goes.... My number two son Q started walking at the age KC is right now. I was shocked to watch our little Q race across the floor at nine-months, way before I was ready. I was thrilled and panicked at the sight. No, no, no....this is too soon. Please stop what you are doing I told him. He's been moving ever since.
My sweet baby hasn't appeared to be in any hurry to get anywhere until this week. He started doing this odd yoga-like plank position, where he would do a push up with a stick straight body on his tippy toes. For a while that was all he did, just a little mini-push up and then back to his belly to play or eat the carpet fibers.
Now he has expanded this push up to a push up /propel motion that flops him forward on his belly each time but somehow manages to get him around with some speed. He inchworms himself towards me with a big open gummy smile.
He has started eating quite a bit of table food lately. What a change this is from the first baby too. When I took my oldest for his nine-month check up, the doctor told me I could start giving him yogurt, cheese, Cheerios and other table food. I practically pinned the doctor against the wall until he swore to me that he had never heard of a baby choking on a Cheerio.
Flash forward six years, this child by sheer survival of the fittest eats fists full of food. I put him in his high chair throw some cheerios or those terrific new fangled food puffs they've invented since my last child in his tray and away he goes. I prepare food for the rest of the troops while KC studies and concentrates on the process at hand. I keep fixing things and putting them in front of him and he eagerly swoops in and devours things.
He is down to nursing just twice a day now, which is such a bittersweet milestone for me. He doesn't need me for everything in his life now. The breastfeeding is one more thing the baby is taking physically and emotionally on his own and pulling away from Mama. Somehow that thrills and saddens me.
-end-
This was clearly a mother that had not yet discovered the joys of Zoloft
.....................................................................................................................................
I walked by the computer today and a screen saver picture caught my eye. In the endless loop of snapshots that have been saved on the computer, I saw the face of a baby I didn't know anymore.
My baby is now nine months old. He is pulling up and rolling and inchworm crawling his way around the house despite my attempts to keep him corralled.
The baby in the picture was smiling and lounging in a bouncy chair. The baby couldn't sit up on his own. He needed me to move him every which way, to hold him upright so the burps could come straight up, to lay him on his back and keep the SIDS monsters away. Now he wriggles from room to room, scoops Cheerios with ease and crams them into his mouth.
I know it is too soon to start the lament of where has my baby gone? After all he still is very much a baby. Last night I rocked him slowly in my arms and wept. I felt so sorry for this sweet baby. He has me, the tired older mother of THREE boys. Nowadays I try to plan my summer days with enough activities to keep the two older boys from fighting. I feed them, wipe them, clean their messes; I survive.
The first boy got the young, newer fresher me. I read to him for hours, bathed him daily, changed his clothes at the first evidence of a drip, planned baby play dates, and enrolled him in Gymboree. What was I thinking?
I never left my first son K except for maybe when I had a doctor's appointment. My husband kept him in the car and waited for me until I could return. God forbid I would have to take him in there with me because of the dreadful viruses and diseases that doctor's offices breed. K didn't have a babysitter until he was nearly three. And that was only because I had to attend my mother's funeral.
Child number three knows all the fine ladies in the church's nursery very well. He smiles, cooes and holds his arms up to complete strangers. He's already stayed on his own with his godmother, a neighbor lady and a 15-year old babysitter with ease.
They say you are more relaxed the more children you have. Relaxed is a nice word for exhausted. Exhausted is what I really am.
I know you are not supposed to compare your children, so here goes.... My number two son Q started walking at the age KC is right now. I was shocked to watch our little Q race across the floor at nine-months, way before I was ready. I was thrilled and panicked at the sight. No, no, no....this is too soon. Please stop what you are doing I told him. He's been moving ever since.
My sweet baby hasn't appeared to be in any hurry to get anywhere until this week. He started doing this odd yoga-like plank position, where he would do a push up with a stick straight body on his tippy toes. For a while that was all he did, just a little mini-push up and then back to his belly to play or eat the carpet fibers.
Now he has expanded this push up to a push up /propel motion that flops him forward on his belly each time but somehow manages to get him around with some speed. He inchworms himself towards me with a big open gummy smile.
He has started eating quite a bit of table food lately. What a change this is from the first baby too. When I took my oldest for his nine-month check up, the doctor told me I could start giving him yogurt, cheese, Cheerios and other table food. I practically pinned the doctor against the wall until he swore to me that he had never heard of a baby choking on a Cheerio.
Flash forward six years, this child by sheer survival of the fittest eats fists full of food. I put him in his high chair throw some cheerios or those terrific new fangled food puffs they've invented since my last child in his tray and away he goes. I prepare food for the rest of the troops while KC studies and concentrates on the process at hand. I keep fixing things and putting them in front of him and he eagerly swoops in and devours things.
He is down to nursing just twice a day now, which is such a bittersweet milestone for me. He doesn't need me for everything in his life now. The breastfeeding is one more thing the baby is taking physically and emotionally on his own and pulling away from Mama. Somehow that thrills and saddens me.
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