Jack STILL cries whenever I drop him off at daycare. In fact, when I tell him in the morning that we'll be going to Aunti Marie's house, he starts whine/crying. He hasn't quite figured out how to rebel, so he'll just stand there,crying and cooperating while I put his hat and coat on. He cries in the car once he realizes we're on the road. He cries when we get in the house and cries up until I hand him over, walk back down the hallway, and (usually) stops when I get to the bottom of the stairs (out of sight). I hate it. I'm tense when I leave and it takes me a solid twenty minutes to let it go. All I can think is that he hates it there, that he hates not having blankie (we don't take it anymore), and he'll hate me for going.
This morning, after dropping Jack off and taking Ed to BU, Ed said that he cries because he feels good attachment to us. What??!! I told Ed he was talking out of his parenting ass. A bit annoyed-- and rightly so-- Ed went on to explain that it is because of Jack's healthy attachment to us that he has separation anxiety. It would be an issue if he had no problem leaving us, or if he cried and cried and cried. Apparently, this crying is a good thing. I do remember reading something about what Ed is talking about back when I would pour over every parenting book available (I gave that up the night they didn't give me a quick solution for how to understand the individual that is Jack).
I still hate it. Basically, Jack cries because he loves us and his home so much that he'd rather be with us. The thing is, us grown-ups have forgotten what it is like to purely just want to be at home with our family; we've adjusted to having to get things done, go to work, go to school, do all that other stuff that is supposed to make time with family worthwhile. Funny how all that other stuff tends to push family time down the list. Oh, well.
We're heading home to the Northwest for Christmas. I can't wait to be with Jack and all of our family all of the time. I do realize that it will only make daycare that much tougher when we get back, but I think it will be worth it. So, okay, the crying is the result of being loved well. I get it- it's all the bittersweetness our parents talk about. Whew. That's all it is...
Thursday, December 15, 2005
Monday, December 12, 2005
Just Say No
Jack has learned how to "say" no - he shakes his head back and forth.
Me or Laura: "Jack, do you want to go take a bath?"
Jack: [shakes his head back and forth]
Me or Laura: "Jack, do you want some more milk?"
Jack: [shakes his head back and forth]
He's even learned how to say "no". It's more like a emphatic, "nnna". That's usually accompanied with a point of the finger toward the person asking him the question that requires a "nnna".
Of course all of this is still mind-numbingly cute (talk to me in 10 years time)
Me: "Jack, time to come in for dinner"
Jack: "What? Are you kidding me? No way."
Me or Laura: "Jack, do you want to go take a bath?"
Jack: [shakes his head back and forth]
Me or Laura: "Jack, do you want some more milk?"
Jack: [shakes his head back and forth]
He's even learned how to say "no". It's more like a emphatic, "nnna". That's usually accompanied with a point of the finger toward the person asking him the question that requires a "nnna".
Of course all of this is still mind-numbingly cute (talk to me in 10 years time)
Me: "Jack, time to come in for dinner"
Jack: "What? Are you kidding me? No way."
Saturday, December 03, 2005
Jack "Pollock" Kingston
Okay, so I know every parent thinks their child is a genius or the next DaVinci. I am no exception. I admit, though, I am surprised at how easily I've begun to fantasize about Jack becoming a brilliant artist. And not that I need him to be anything more than he is -watching him feed himself is brilliant enough for me. But, lately, Jack has been very busy drawing. That's all he does: draw, draw, draw. Typical toddler art- lots and lots of spirals and circles. Ever since he discovered a certain set of pens (the non-washable, of course), he's been manipulating them whenever he's not sleeping, eating, or having quality mommy, daddy or blanket time. I have these visions of walking into the living room, looking over his work and saying, "you've done it, Jack; you've cracked it wide open..."
The other night, we assembled our new hallway bench/coat rack from Target and Jack barely interupted (other than the occasional hammering "just like daddy"). He laid on the floor, thrilled to be coloring a long strip of white cardboard that came with the packing.
Last night we went out and left Jack with the babysitter. He was drawing on a notepad at the coffee table (of course). I told him that mommy and daddy were going bye-bye and that Lauren would stay and play with him. He didn't look up. I asked him for kiss. While still drawing, he leaned his head my way, still NOT looking up, and accepted my kiss. Did the same for Ed. Didn't cry at all when we left.
This morning, after a somewhat rough night coughing and being stuffed up with a cold, Jack sat on my lap on the couch with blankie watching whatever PBS kid show is on(as is our morning routine). He didn't sit there five minutes before he saw pad and pen- and off my lap he jumped, scrambling for this morning's artistic discovery.
Our house contains a gaggle of 8 1/2 x 11 inch paper, all colored in red, black, or green ink. Once he's finished with one, he throws it on the ground, drawing on the next. And, I have to admit, I like that he has an activity that keeps him so occupied (I've been waiting for this since he was born). I should save some of the "artwork" but they all look the same. I'll grab one that shows spark of his artistic individuality, but then, as a mom, won't they all look like that?
The other night, we assembled our new hallway bench/coat rack from Target and Jack barely interupted (other than the occasional hammering "just like daddy"). He laid on the floor, thrilled to be coloring a long strip of white cardboard that came with the packing.
Last night we went out and left Jack with the babysitter. He was drawing on a notepad at the coffee table (of course). I told him that mommy and daddy were going bye-bye and that Lauren would stay and play with him. He didn't look up. I asked him for kiss. While still drawing, he leaned his head my way, still NOT looking up, and accepted my kiss. Did the same for Ed. Didn't cry at all when we left.
This morning, after a somewhat rough night coughing and being stuffed up with a cold, Jack sat on my lap on the couch with blankie watching whatever PBS kid show is on(as is our morning routine). He didn't sit there five minutes before he saw pad and pen- and off my lap he jumped, scrambling for this morning's artistic discovery.
Our house contains a gaggle of 8 1/2 x 11 inch paper, all colored in red, black, or green ink. Once he's finished with one, he throws it on the ground, drawing on the next. And, I have to admit, I like that he has an activity that keeps him so occupied (I've been waiting for this since he was born). I should save some of the "artwork" but they all look the same. I'll grab one that shows spark of his artistic individuality, but then, as a mom, won't they all look like that?
Friday, November 25, 2005
Hat Man
These are Jack's two favorite things in life: his blankie and his "hat." He'll wear this old ice cream container (it's been washed..) around, playing with his toys, ears folded over, for as long as it will stay on. Good thing, too. With the cold weather, his comfort with head gear is crucial. We'll post more hat picks later - this one's the best and our new favorite. 
Monday, November 21, 2005
Jack Talk
About a week ago, Jack and I went upstairs to visit the landlords and their kids. Jack LOVES Colleen- the four year old. I don't know if it is because she is the same age as his cousin, Lily, whom he also adores, but whenever he hears her, he gets excited.
Colleen was doing very little to make Jack laugh hysterically - running around the house, jumping out behind furniture. At one point, though, she tried to keep Jack from sitting on my lap. Immediately, Jack stood his ground, jutted his pointy finger at her, and exclaimed a very clear, well, something. It sounded like a mix of "mine," "mom," and "no." He was probably saying all three. I was partly shocked, but also pretty impressed with his ability to set a boundary. Strong-willed Colleen cowered to my toddler, and needed some cuddling to get over it.
In the last few days, Jack has made the connection between shaking his head and "no." It's mostly been a game- I ask if he wants something and he'll shake his head no, smiling with his new communication skill. Tonight we read a Blue's Clues book and when I asked him if there was a clue on the page, he would shake his head no - in a somewhat impatient, proud sort of way. Now, I don't know why it is that kids learn how to say no before yes - or maybe that's just my impression. I guess we (adults) say no more than we say yes. (No, don't eat that crayon, No, stay off the street..).
I do love that Jack doesn't have to say yes or no for me to understand him. And, I think he's smiling when he shakes his head "no" because he knows that I'll figure out what he is saying with our without the clear signal. I wonder when that clear communication gets lost- when, in part because of language, we don't comprehend the other as well. Because he can't talk, I have learned ot understand him based on facial expressions or mere inflections in his babbling. I suppose I'm just aware of how much I rely on non-verbal communication because there is hardly any verbal communication. I wonder, too, how much we rely on non-verbal communication to determine what other people around us are "saying" - but are so unconscious in our interpretation of the non-verbal clues, that we don't even know how we arrive at the conclusions we often do.
Here's to hoping that I can hear what Jack says as well as I can understand all that he doesn't say- and to encourage him to be as genuine as possible- so that those non-verbal cues actually match the verbal ones (can you imagine?).
Colleen was doing very little to make Jack laugh hysterically - running around the house, jumping out behind furniture. At one point, though, she tried to keep Jack from sitting on my lap. Immediately, Jack stood his ground, jutted his pointy finger at her, and exclaimed a very clear, well, something. It sounded like a mix of "mine," "mom," and "no." He was probably saying all three. I was partly shocked, but also pretty impressed with his ability to set a boundary. Strong-willed Colleen cowered to my toddler, and needed some cuddling to get over it.
In the last few days, Jack has made the connection between shaking his head and "no." It's mostly been a game- I ask if he wants something and he'll shake his head no, smiling with his new communication skill. Tonight we read a Blue's Clues book and when I asked him if there was a clue on the page, he would shake his head no - in a somewhat impatient, proud sort of way. Now, I don't know why it is that kids learn how to say no before yes - or maybe that's just my impression. I guess we (adults) say no more than we say yes. (No, don't eat that crayon, No, stay off the street..).
I do love that Jack doesn't have to say yes or no for me to understand him. And, I think he's smiling when he shakes his head "no" because he knows that I'll figure out what he is saying with our without the clear signal. I wonder when that clear communication gets lost- when, in part because of language, we don't comprehend the other as well. Because he can't talk, I have learned ot understand him based on facial expressions or mere inflections in his babbling. I suppose I'm just aware of how much I rely on non-verbal communication because there is hardly any verbal communication. I wonder, too, how much we rely on non-verbal communication to determine what other people around us are "saying" - but are so unconscious in our interpretation of the non-verbal clues, that we don't even know how we arrive at the conclusions we often do.
Here's to hoping that I can hear what Jack says as well as I can understand all that he doesn't say- and to encourage him to be as genuine as possible- so that those non-verbal cues actually match the verbal ones (can you imagine?).
Monday, November 14, 2005
Uh-Oh
This is Jack's new favorite saying.
"Uh-oh".
He's gotten pretty good at it too. Of course, we thought it was cute for the first 1000 times he said, "Uh-oh", so we reinforced the "uh-oh"-behavior with smiles and laughes. Now Jack says it over and over and over.
Blankie is thrown on the ground: "uh-oh".
A little bowl of cheerios is dumped on the floor: "uh-oh."
Anything drops to the floor: "uh-oh".
And it's not one "uh-oh", it's a series of "uh-oh's", each increasingly louder than the first. We got to teach him another saying. Maybe, "Go Irish!"
"Uh-oh".
He's gotten pretty good at it too. Of course, we thought it was cute for the first 1000 times he said, "Uh-oh", so we reinforced the "uh-oh"-behavior with smiles and laughes. Now Jack says it over and over and over.
Blankie is thrown on the ground: "uh-oh".
A little bowl of cheerios is dumped on the floor: "uh-oh."
Anything drops to the floor: "uh-oh".
And it's not one "uh-oh", it's a series of "uh-oh's", each increasingly louder than the first. We got to teach him another saying. Maybe, "Go Irish!"
Wednesday, November 09, 2005
Blankie Dilemma
Apparently, Jack is one of the few (if only) children who actually suck on his security object. That darn blankie of his is just digusting- if it doesn't get washed at least every-other day, then it begins to smell like bad breath and hints of mold - not to mention the layers of crumbs that are adhesived to the fabric when Jack puts the thing in his mouth to soon after a meal. What a vile thing that blankie.
Today, Auntie (daycare lady) asked if I had washed Jack's blanket. She was blantantly shocked that I hadn't - I left feeling like one of the lowly germs clinging to the corner of blankie, sure that my son was exposing all the other kids to a bevy of viruses and more cat hairs than they've ever seen. I called Auntie back an hour later, feeling both defensive and guilty about my son's favorite object- I told her that we would have to make some changes. Blankie needs to become a night-time attatchment only. She told me that she gave Jack a recieving blanket with nap - that he wasn't too happy, but fall asleep just fine. I realized that I have no idea what taking away his blanket will do to him- if it will make him hate daycare - dread it and feel completely insecure- or if it won't be a big deal and he'll recover just fine. I wish someone would tell me.
Anyway, next week begins phase one of blankie separation. I hate this - I want Jack to have what he wants and to enjoy all the pleasures of life, and don't want him to deal with any pain, but I also don't want a kid who ends up privleged, spoiled, and, well, with no backbone. The blankie dilemma is just the beginning of dealing with such complex parenting issues - next week it will be the bullies at school.
Ugh.
Today, Auntie (daycare lady) asked if I had washed Jack's blanket. She was blantantly shocked that I hadn't - I left feeling like one of the lowly germs clinging to the corner of blankie, sure that my son was exposing all the other kids to a bevy of viruses and more cat hairs than they've ever seen. I called Auntie back an hour later, feeling both defensive and guilty about my son's favorite object- I told her that we would have to make some changes. Blankie needs to become a night-time attatchment only. She told me that she gave Jack a recieving blanket with nap - that he wasn't too happy, but fall asleep just fine. I realized that I have no idea what taking away his blanket will do to him- if it will make him hate daycare - dread it and feel completely insecure- or if it won't be a big deal and he'll recover just fine. I wish someone would tell me.
Anyway, next week begins phase one of blankie separation. I hate this - I want Jack to have what he wants and to enjoy all the pleasures of life, and don't want him to deal with any pain, but I also don't want a kid who ends up privleged, spoiled, and, well, with no backbone. The blankie dilemma is just the beginning of dealing with such complex parenting issues - next week it will be the bullies at school.
Ugh.
Friday, November 04, 2005
Why does going to the doctor hurt?
This must be the question Jack was asking himself this morning. 15th month check up today and Jack needed 4 shots. Ouch.
You can imagine what this must be like for Jack: [cue wavy scene change] "Hey this is a new place, oh what's this, some kind of tank with fish in it....ok, Mom and Dad with me, good, I'm ok. Hmmm, Dad sure is being nice to me. What's that paperwork Mom is filling out? Lots of people smiling at me. Ok, bye-bye fishy's. Now where we going? Ok, into this room. Take my clothes off? Who's this lady? Hey, there's flowers on the walls, cool. Why am I being measured? I don't want lay on that bench - Hmmm, back in Mommy's arms, now Daddy's- no Mommy's, that's better. Who's this guy? Why are looking in my ears? Hey, what are those little bottles? And what's with those sticks? Mommy looks tense. Hey, why are you - ah CRAP that HURT!!"
Not that our Jack would ever say, "ah crap". You know, I wonder where our discomfort of hospitals come from. Maybe this is it. No more shots until Jack is four. That's what we were told. He's all caught up. But four years old?! Good lord, I can't imagine what a four-year old Jack will look like. Well, I have some idea.
You can imagine what this must be like for Jack: [cue wavy scene change] "Hey this is a new place, oh what's this, some kind of tank with fish in it....ok, Mom and Dad with me, good, I'm ok. Hmmm, Dad sure is being nice to me. What's that paperwork Mom is filling out? Lots of people smiling at me. Ok, bye-bye fishy's. Now where we going? Ok, into this room. Take my clothes off? Who's this lady? Hey, there's flowers on the walls, cool. Why am I being measured? I don't want lay on that bench - Hmmm, back in Mommy's arms, now Daddy's- no Mommy's, that's better. Who's this guy? Why are looking in my ears? Hey, what are those little bottles? And what's with those sticks? Mommy looks tense. Hey, why are you - ah CRAP that HURT!!"
Not that our Jack would ever say, "ah crap". You know, I wonder where our discomfort of hospitals come from. Maybe this is it. No more shots until Jack is four. That's what we were told. He's all caught up. But four years old?! Good lord, I can't imagine what a four-year old Jack will look like. Well, I have some idea.
Wednesday, November 02, 2005
"Aye, Matey, May I Take Your Order?"
I finally downloaded the Halloween pics. Jack's been sick the last two days with a cold (and a nasty cough/croup at night). I took on some of the germs myself today, sacked out on the couch while Jack alone played pretty well with PBS in the background (all day, mind you- he reached his monthly television quota by 4:00 p.m.).
The kid did great trick or treating - mostly because it involved his favorite outdoor activity - climbing up and down slopes or stairs (the other day I was clearning up the front porch, turned around and witnessed Jack's first solo steps down the stairs. I mean reall, how much am I coddling this kid?). Once he figured out that the stairs led to actual PEOPLE and then CANDY, well, he couldn't get enough. It took us about 30 minutes to walk up our side of the street, and then turn around. We hit about half a dozen houses, give or take- it was all quite quaint. I came home with the urge to watch "Meet Me In St. Louis," particularly the autumn/Halloween parts (of course).
Enjoy the pictures (that's not necessarily an order. I just realized Jack looks a bit smug in all of them- could be he's acting the pirate part, or more likely, he's tired from the time change and cranky from a snotty nose). We do realize that his pirate outfit is practically a TGIFriday's waiter outfit without the *flair* (unless you count the skull and crossbones belt).
The kid did great trick or treating - mostly because it involved his favorite outdoor activity - climbing up and down slopes or stairs (the other day I was clearning up the front porch, turned around and witnessed Jack's first solo steps down the stairs. I mean reall, how much am I coddling this kid?). Once he figured out that the stairs led to actual PEOPLE and then CANDY, well, he couldn't get enough. It took us about 30 minutes to walk up our side of the street, and then turn around. We hit about half a dozen houses, give or take- it was all quite quaint. I came home with the urge to watch "Meet Me In St. Louis," particularly the autumn/Halloween parts (of course).
Enjoy the pictures (that's not necessarily an order. I just realized Jack looks a bit smug in all of them- could be he's acting the pirate part, or more likely, he's tired from the time change and cranky from a snotty nose). We do realize that his pirate outfit is practically a TGIFriday's waiter outfit without the *flair* (unless you count the skull and crossbones belt).
Friday, October 28, 2005
Extrovert
Last night we visited our next door neighbors- the ones who have degrees from Notre Dame, and, subsequently, watch the Irish football games on T.V. Ed enjoys their company. As do I. I didn't realize, though, just how much Jack enjoyed their company. Erik had invited us over for mass and dinner (he works at a church and has a strong tie to the catholic community here; apparently everyone takes turns each week to have a mass at home). Everything started at 7:00- just about the time Jack is winding down for bed, but we thought we'd head over a bit early, say hello, and head home before Jack got too tired and/or started babbling during the liturgy. At 6:30, I asked Jack if he wanted to go over to Erik's house and say "hi." The little man immediately walked expectantly to the door, turned around and looked at me as if to say, "well, let's go!"
I've mentioned before how much Jack enjoys social outings. If he's particularly grumpy, but not yet tired, and we have some money in the checking account, we'll head out to dinner where he'll flirt with the waitresses, talk with any willing listener, and *poof* he's in a better mood. Such behavior is alien to Ed and I for the most part. Growing up, I gained strength from sitting in my room, redecorating the Barbie house or reorganizing all my stuff. In grade school, Ed dreaded being asked to take a note to the secretary in the school office- or anything that would involve him having to deal in any small way with anyone outside of his small, familiar surroundings. This isn't to say that Ed and I are hermits; in fact, we are currently on the prowl for a babysitter so we can FINALLY go out and enjoy ourselves. As with most folks, our introvert side balanced itself over the years. Ultimately, though, we both gain energy from retreat, not advance.
Jack, on the other hand, as I've said, THRIVES around other people. Last night, at Erik's house, we were sitting in the living room. Jill, Erik's roommate and Christine, Erik's friend from South Bend, Ed & I were engaging in pleasant conversation. Jack, a bit shy, at first (so, yes, he is our son), kept throwing me the ball the Erik was trying to get him to play catch with. Within five minutes, though, Jack suddenly started performing what could only be some novice form of breakdancing. Seriously. Standing up, he'd lean over, put his right hand on the floor, turn around his hand, his body would follow and then land on all fours, having spun 360 degrees. Then squeal. The five of us laughed, not realizing the affect our response would have; Jack continued to show his new move, throwing in some genuine spins on both feet, and wait for applause. After that, he was walking around the dining room, taking wheat thins from Erik in the kitchen, hardly aware of where WE were, and babbling up a storm to anyone or anything that he thought might be interested (read: he wouldn't shut up).
Where did he get this extrovert temperament? My mom maybe? Who knows. It's fun to watch. And it will be interesting to see how it evolves. By the time he's five, Jack will have more friends than Ed or I together. I can just see it now- we head downtown some Saturday weekened and Jack waves hello to every other kid in a stroller, making playdates, wondering why his parents don't go out more often.
I've mentioned before how much Jack enjoys social outings. If he's particularly grumpy, but not yet tired, and we have some money in the checking account, we'll head out to dinner where he'll flirt with the waitresses, talk with any willing listener, and *poof* he's in a better mood. Such behavior is alien to Ed and I for the most part. Growing up, I gained strength from sitting in my room, redecorating the Barbie house or reorganizing all my stuff. In grade school, Ed dreaded being asked to take a note to the secretary in the school office- or anything that would involve him having to deal in any small way with anyone outside of his small, familiar surroundings. This isn't to say that Ed and I are hermits; in fact, we are currently on the prowl for a babysitter so we can FINALLY go out and enjoy ourselves. As with most folks, our introvert side balanced itself over the years. Ultimately, though, we both gain energy from retreat, not advance.
Jack, on the other hand, as I've said, THRIVES around other people. Last night, at Erik's house, we were sitting in the living room. Jill, Erik's roommate and Christine, Erik's friend from South Bend, Ed & I were engaging in pleasant conversation. Jack, a bit shy, at first (so, yes, he is our son), kept throwing me the ball the Erik was trying to get him to play catch with. Within five minutes, though, Jack suddenly started performing what could only be some novice form of breakdancing. Seriously. Standing up, he'd lean over, put his right hand on the floor, turn around his hand, his body would follow and then land on all fours, having spun 360 degrees. Then squeal. The five of us laughed, not realizing the affect our response would have; Jack continued to show his new move, throwing in some genuine spins on both feet, and wait for applause. After that, he was walking around the dining room, taking wheat thins from Erik in the kitchen, hardly aware of where WE were, and babbling up a storm to anyone or anything that he thought might be interested (read: he wouldn't shut up).
Where did he get this extrovert temperament? My mom maybe? Who knows. It's fun to watch. And it will be interesting to see how it evolves. By the time he's five, Jack will have more friends than Ed or I together. I can just see it now- we head downtown some Saturday weekened and Jack waves hello to every other kid in a stroller, making playdates, wondering why his parents don't go out more often.
Thursday, October 20, 2005
Go! Go! Go!
Jack turned 15 months old the older day. It was the first 'month' birthday that I wasn't aware of on the actual day. I HAVE BEEN aware that Jack hasn't been using many words - well, recognizable words; he chatters all the time, often preaching to us, other kids, or to the sidewalk.
He has said "apple" once and a few months ago sputtered an "all done." Since then, he's muttered mama and dada indescriminately - never actually calling us by name. But, that's it. I started re-reading Martha Beck's "Expecting Adam" the other night. In her memoir, Beck talks about her children, including her 18-month old who talks - even speaks short sentences. All I can think is, hell, Jack's only three months away from 18 months and he has yet to put word to its object.
Not that I'm worried, of course. I'm definitely am not the kind of parent to worry about someone else's general standards for development (well, maybe a little bit).
The real reason I'm not so worried is that tonight Jack figured out a word and said it again and again- repeating it after us. One of his new favorite things is to squeal at the stoplights because of Dr. Suess' book, "Go Dogs Go!" For those of you not familiar with the book, there are two lines that Jack loves: "Stop dogs stop the light is red," and "Go dogs go it's green ahead." At every stop light we say the first line and when it turns green - guess what we say then. Jack loves it. Tonight he was saying something that sounded like "toe" but when Ed repeated "go" I turned around to see Jack trying to form his mouth to say "go" and his "toe" started to sound like "go" (or "tgo"). He said it again and again, with each green light, and after Ed would say it. He NEVER repeats words that we say - almost a kind of "yeah, I know the word, and you know the word so why put on a show?" attitude, which, frankly I can understand. But tonight, it was as if he figured out he could control his own mouth to say a word. And he was clearly happy about it.
I tell you, it was pretty cool.
He has said "apple" once and a few months ago sputtered an "all done." Since then, he's muttered mama and dada indescriminately - never actually calling us by name. But, that's it. I started re-reading Martha Beck's "Expecting Adam" the other night. In her memoir, Beck talks about her children, including her 18-month old who talks - even speaks short sentences. All I can think is, hell, Jack's only three months away from 18 months and he has yet to put word to its object.
Not that I'm worried, of course. I'm definitely am not the kind of parent to worry about someone else's general standards for development (well, maybe a little bit).
The real reason I'm not so worried is that tonight Jack figured out a word and said it again and again- repeating it after us. One of his new favorite things is to squeal at the stoplights because of Dr. Suess' book, "Go Dogs Go!" For those of you not familiar with the book, there are two lines that Jack loves: "Stop dogs stop the light is red," and "Go dogs go it's green ahead." At every stop light we say the first line and when it turns green - guess what we say then. Jack loves it. Tonight he was saying something that sounded like "toe" but when Ed repeated "go" I turned around to see Jack trying to form his mouth to say "go" and his "toe" started to sound like "go" (or "tgo"). He said it again and again, with each green light, and after Ed would say it. He NEVER repeats words that we say - almost a kind of "yeah, I know the word, and you know the word so why put on a show?" attitude, which, frankly I can understand. But tonight, it was as if he figured out he could control his own mouth to say a word. And he was clearly happy about it.
I tell you, it was pretty cool.
Friday, October 14, 2005
Yet Another Reason to Forego the Paternity Test
So, Jack's been cranky this week- spiked a fever of 103 degrees the other night. Today, the fever is down, but he's been hitting his head against the floor and getting pissed off pretty easy. He's either teething, experiencing his first ear infection, having a growth spurt (he inhaled lunch and dinner), or more than likely - some combination of all three.
After returning home from a walk in the rain to change the scenery (and to eat a mum petal from someone's flower basket) , Jack tore into his boca cheeseburger for dinner. About two bites in he grabbed his hair with a ketchup coated grip. I reacted by reaching over to scratch his head to avoid a blob of condiment that I wasn't willing to wash out in the tub. As any one in Ed's family knows - or as anyone well acquainted with Ed's family, the insatiable desire to be scratched is more than prevelant. I've spent at least 1/4 of my married life scratching Ed's back, his head, behind his knee, his big toe (yes). I'm not exaggerating here. Anyway, Jack loved the scratches; when I took my hand away, he grabbed it and then put it back on top of his head to continue what Ed has dubbed "the circle of scratch."
Tonight while playing on "mommy and daddy's" bed before Jack's bedtime, I tried the circle head scratch on Jack to show Ed. Once again, the little guy returned my hand to his head when I thought I was finished.
Ed looked over, slightly proud that this indeed was his son, but also perturbed that his own scratches are now having to be shared.
After returning home from a walk in the rain to change the scenery (and to eat a mum petal from someone's flower basket) , Jack tore into his boca cheeseburger for dinner. About two bites in he grabbed his hair with a ketchup coated grip. I reacted by reaching over to scratch his head to avoid a blob of condiment that I wasn't willing to wash out in the tub. As any one in Ed's family knows - or as anyone well acquainted with Ed's family, the insatiable desire to be scratched is more than prevelant. I've spent at least 1/4 of my married life scratching Ed's back, his head, behind his knee, his big toe (yes). I'm not exaggerating here. Anyway, Jack loved the scratches; when I took my hand away, he grabbed it and then put it back on top of his head to continue what Ed has dubbed "the circle of scratch."
Tonight while playing on "mommy and daddy's" bed before Jack's bedtime, I tried the circle head scratch on Jack to show Ed. Once again, the little guy returned my hand to his head when I thought I was finished.
Ed looked over, slightly proud that this indeed was his son, but also perturbed that his own scratches are now having to be shared.
Saturday, October 08, 2005
Growing with the Changing Seasons
Jack's been quite busy lately- trying to keep up with his busy parents. Somehow, we're managing to document some of his latest "things." Among them, a love (surprise) for ice cream cones, a somewhat obsessive attachment to the swifter cleaning aparatus, and, of course, jumpin in the puddles. Photos, as they say, speak volumes, so you can see the visuals below. What can't be caught on camera is that not ten minutes after I explained to Ed my worry about the fact that Jack barely uses ma-ma and da-da (and hardly ever uses them to talk to us), the kid busts out with "tick-tock" from his car seat after seeing a big clock (duH) on some building.
Friday, September 23, 2005
Poser
I read an article in graduate school about how to deal with the students (boys) who sit at the back of the room, slouched in their desk chair with their legs extended. You know, the ones who could give a shit and want you to know just how much they aren't interested in being in your classroom.
Jack is going to be one of those boys - in posture, anyway. He's got a couch (from Nana W) and a chair (from Grandpa Fijalka) that are made for his size. He loves to sit on them. When he plays in his room by himself, he'll sit on his couch, scootch his butt forward, lay his head back on the couch and extend his arms as if to say, "yeah, "I'm relaxing." During the day, he often eats his meals at the coffee table, sitting in his little fold-open chair. He climbs up by himself, leans back, puts his feet up on the coffee table and slowly munches on the food near his feet. The only time he'll sit up is when he wants to get off the chair, or, apparently, if I take his picture.
Where does he learn these things?
Jack is going to be one of those boys - in posture, anyway. He's got a couch (from Nana W) and a chair (from Grandpa Fijalka) that are made for his size. He loves to sit on them. When he plays in his room by himself, he'll sit on his couch, scootch his butt forward, lay his head back on the couch and extend his arms as if to say, "yeah, "I'm relaxing." During the day, he often eats his meals at the coffee table, sitting in his little fold-open chair. He climbs up by himself, leans back, puts his feet up on the coffee table and slowly munches on the food near his feet. The only time he'll sit up is when he wants to get off the chair, or, apparently, if I take his picture.
Where does he learn these things?
Thursday, September 22, 2005
Growth Spurt
Jack's been sleeping like he's a baby - 12 hours at night (at least) with two substantial naps during the day. Yesterday was the first day in about a week and a half that he only took one nap. Chalk it up to a legitimate growth spurt. I've heard about kids growing an inch in a few days, but I wouldn't have believed it.
Two weeks ago Jack wore his light green shorts- the ones that go perfectly with the cute cricket shirt Nana K got him. As usual, they ended right below his knees. Yesterday I went to put on his outfit and noticed, as he was strolling down the sidewalk, that his knees are in plain view- the shorts end right above his knees.
I'm sure he likes them better that way. Now, he can position his "Little Tikes" bike (from Nana and Pop Pop) at the top of the neighbors' driveway, sit on it, lean back with legs extended, and let the force of the hill lead him into the road. Yeah, the road. At least his shorts aren't getting in the way of his trajectory practice.
Two weeks ago Jack wore his light green shorts- the ones that go perfectly with the cute cricket shirt Nana K got him. As usual, they ended right below his knees. Yesterday I went to put on his outfit and noticed, as he was strolling down the sidewalk, that his knees are in plain view- the shorts end right above his knees.
I'm sure he likes them better that way. Now, he can position his "Little Tikes" bike (from Nana and Pop Pop) at the top of the neighbors' driveway, sit on it, lean back with legs extended, and let the force of the hill lead him into the road. Yeah, the road. At least his shorts aren't getting in the way of his trajectory practice.
Monday, September 19, 2005
You think he's just staring...
Jack woke up from his (two hour) afternoon nap yesterday, about an hour before we were headed over to the neighbors for dinner. I took him outside where four of the neighborhood kids were loudly playing. Our landlord was nailing a ceiling to the porch with a (loud) compression nailer. Jack just stood there, a blank stare on his face. He didn't want to walk around, push his car, or go on the slide. And, I couldn't leave his side. Eventually, we made our way over to dinner, where Jack proceding to.. stare. He stood close to me, just looking. No sounds, maybe a few curious expressions, but just looking around.
After a while, he ventured into the living room where a mix of Miles Davis, Bob Dylan and some other folk and jazz was playing, and he stared dancing. His new dance looks like "the swim" - he waves his arms in front of him- kind of a mix of freestyle swim and modern dance. Then he was picking up the (unlit) candles on the coffee table, lifting them up over his head and grunting as if to let everyone know how heavy they were. By dinner, he was talking and gesturing. By dessert, he was doing his "back up" trick, laughing, and hamming it up, trying to make everyone laugh.
I realized how much Jack is like me and Ed - but better (of course). It takes him a while to warm up- he takes time to soak in his surroundings; the more people and/or the newer the place, the longer it takes him to absorb. But once he does warm up, he turns on the charm. Where Ed & I tend to stay a bit reserved, Jack works the crowd. I love it. Not because he's like us, and not because he is observant first- I'm sure I'd love it if he dove into a situation talking and playing right away- I love it because it's Jack. I love seeing who he is.
After a while, he ventured into the living room where a mix of Miles Davis, Bob Dylan and some other folk and jazz was playing, and he stared dancing. His new dance looks like "the swim" - he waves his arms in front of him- kind of a mix of freestyle swim and modern dance. Then he was picking up the (unlit) candles on the coffee table, lifting them up over his head and grunting as if to let everyone know how heavy they were. By dinner, he was talking and gesturing. By dessert, he was doing his "back up" trick, laughing, and hamming it up, trying to make everyone laugh.
I realized how much Jack is like me and Ed - but better (of course). It takes him a while to warm up- he takes time to soak in his surroundings; the more people and/or the newer the place, the longer it takes him to absorb. But once he does warm up, he turns on the charm. Where Ed & I tend to stay a bit reserved, Jack works the crowd. I love it. Not because he's like us, and not because he is observant first- I'm sure I'd love it if he dove into a situation talking and playing right away- I love it because it's Jack. I love seeing who he is.
Wednesday, September 14, 2005
Phantom Crying & Jack updates (picture below)
When Jack was about eight months old, we decided to "train" him to fall asleep on his own, in his own crib. We started with him in our room, his crib right next to our bed sat on either side of the crib, letting him know we were right there, until he fell asleep (crying, of course). Every couple days, we'd move farther away from him - and after the first week, his crib was at the other end of the room and we were in the doorway reminding him that we'd be there if he needed us. It took roughly three weeks (or so) before he was in his own room, content in his crib, and (thank goodness) sleeping through the night (finally).
In the middle of what the book we read called the "sleep shuffle," I struggled with Jack's crying. One night, when Jack was still in our room, but at the other side, I thought I heard him crying, even though he wasn't. Whenever I shut my eyes to fall asleep, I would hear a baby cry in the distance, and it would take an extraordinary amount of willpower not to go over to the crib and check on him- where I'd surely wake him up and hear actual bawling. Poor Ed; I woke him up about three times to confirm my delusion. "No, he's not crying," Ed would mumble, trying not to let the irritation seep through as his 5:00 a.m. wake up time crept closer each time I'd wake him up. I don't know if it was the fan or a kind of mom trauma, but I swore I heard him crying even though it was in some kind of distant dream like place.
I still have moments where I think I hear Jack crying, even though he isn't. I walked Jack up to day care this morning and even though he's been doing just fine, I feel so many just plain bad emotions leaving him at another woman's house. I miss him terribly, feel guilty that I'm not working yet (unless you count sending out resume and cover letters work - which it is, but I still get caught in the trap of "it isn't work unless you're gettin paid), and I just imagine him wishing he was home in his own comfort zone. As soon as I left the daycare to walk home, I was sure I heard him crying- crying heard in the back of the house from the second floor of a very old, sturdy house (if you saw the house you'd know it was near impossible to be heard from the front since the kids play up and back). Walking up the hill, I heard another baby cry a few doors up. I used all of my logical mental resources to convince myself that it wasn't Jack. "You see, Laura- there's toys and a tree house in their yard- of course that's their kid, not yours."
So, now I'm home, about to dive into the work search, anxious to get rid of the anxious feelings that come with being a mom.
When Jack is home, he's amazing. Here's a few things of note:
1)He said "all done" last week when he was done eating dinner (hasn't said it since).
2)Has re-discovered "head, shoulders, knees, and toes." He still just touches his head, but is now touching his ears, eyes, and nose on occasion.
3)He's developed a somewhat love/hate relationship with Max (our cat) - Jack loves Max and, for the most part, Max hates Jack's persistant grabbing of his tail, headbutting his side ("kissing") and "petting" (hitting) his head. Strangely enough, Max, unlike Mia (the other cat) doesn't leave the room. He just meows and comes back for more.
4) Jack loves to wash his hands in the tub and will wash his tummy - as long as there is plenty of sudsy soap.
5) His favorite toy is the letter "I" from his alphabet magnet collection. It looks like a 1 - just a purple plastic stick basically. He carries it with him everywhere, often using it for a phone, holding it to his head while he reclines on his Winnie the Pooh couch, fake laughing and talking.
6) Last week Ed and I were engaged in a fairly curt discussion - probably about driving, since we were in the car- and our voices got a bit loud. From his carseat in the backseat, Jack started fake laughing really loud - we think to drown out our voices and stop our arguing. It worked.
7) One of the girs from upstairs is eighteen months, and every now and then, she and Jack will parallel play outside. Yesterday, while the little girl was sitting and playing with chalk, Jack leaned down and talked to her, quietly, as if he didn't want us eavesdropping. He leaned in, still chatting her up, then sat down and kept telling her his story. This is one of those, 'you had to be there' moments to fully appreciate.
8) When he wakes up in the morning or after a nap, he'll sit up and read his books. Often, he won't even notice that I've come into his room; his back will be to the door and he'll have one of his books in his lap- the cloth picture book my mom made him with pictures of his grandparents, aunts, and cousins; the baby colors book; "The Little Engine That Could" book- and he'll be jabbering, reading to himself some crazy story to go along with the pictures. Here's hoping there will be a day soon when I show up to day care and Jack doesn't even notice that I'm there.
In the middle of what the book we read called the "sleep shuffle," I struggled with Jack's crying. One night, when Jack was still in our room, but at the other side, I thought I heard him crying, even though he wasn't. Whenever I shut my eyes to fall asleep, I would hear a baby cry in the distance, and it would take an extraordinary amount of willpower not to go over to the crib and check on him- where I'd surely wake him up and hear actual bawling. Poor Ed; I woke him up about three times to confirm my delusion. "No, he's not crying," Ed would mumble, trying not to let the irritation seep through as his 5:00 a.m. wake up time crept closer each time I'd wake him up. I don't know if it was the fan or a kind of mom trauma, but I swore I heard him crying even though it was in some kind of distant dream like place.
I still have moments where I think I hear Jack crying, even though he isn't. I walked Jack up to day care this morning and even though he's been doing just fine, I feel so many just plain bad emotions leaving him at another woman's house. I miss him terribly, feel guilty that I'm not working yet (unless you count sending out resume and cover letters work - which it is, but I still get caught in the trap of "it isn't work unless you're gettin paid), and I just imagine him wishing he was home in his own comfort zone. As soon as I left the daycare to walk home, I was sure I heard him crying- crying heard in the back of the house from the second floor of a very old, sturdy house (if you saw the house you'd know it was near impossible to be heard from the front since the kids play up and back). Walking up the hill, I heard another baby cry a few doors up. I used all of my logical mental resources to convince myself that it wasn't Jack. "You see, Laura- there's toys and a tree house in their yard- of course that's their kid, not yours."
So, now I'm home, about to dive into the work search, anxious to get rid of the anxious feelings that come with being a mom.
When Jack is home, he's amazing. Here's a few things of note:
1)He said "all done" last week when he was done eating dinner (hasn't said it since).
2)Has re-discovered "head, shoulders, knees, and toes." He still just touches his head, but is now touching his ears, eyes, and nose on occasion.
3)He's developed a somewhat love/hate relationship with Max (our cat) - Jack loves Max and, for the most part, Max hates Jack's persistant grabbing of his tail, headbutting his side ("kissing") and "petting" (hitting) his head. Strangely enough, Max, unlike Mia (the other cat) doesn't leave the room. He just meows and comes back for more.
4) Jack loves to wash his hands in the tub and will wash his tummy - as long as there is plenty of sudsy soap.
5) His favorite toy is the letter "I" from his alphabet magnet collection. It looks like a 1 - just a purple plastic stick basically. He carries it with him everywhere, often using it for a phone, holding it to his head while he reclines on his Winnie the Pooh couch, fake laughing and talking.
6) Last week Ed and I were engaged in a fairly curt discussion - probably about driving, since we were in the car- and our voices got a bit loud. From his carseat in the backseat, Jack started fake laughing really loud - we think to drown out our voices and stop our arguing. It worked.
7) One of the girs from upstairs is eighteen months, and every now and then, she and Jack will parallel play outside. Yesterday, while the little girl was sitting and playing with chalk, Jack leaned down and talked to her, quietly, as if he didn't want us eavesdropping. He leaned in, still chatting her up, then sat down and kept telling her his story. This is one of those, 'you had to be there' moments to fully appreciate.
8) When he wakes up in the morning or after a nap, he'll sit up and read his books. Often, he won't even notice that I've come into his room; his back will be to the door and he'll have one of his books in his lap- the cloth picture book my mom made him with pictures of his grandparents, aunts, and cousins; the baby colors book; "The Little Engine That Could" book- and he'll be jabbering, reading to himself some crazy story to go along with the pictures. Here's hoping there will be a day soon when I show up to day care and Jack doesn't even notice that I'm there.
Monday, August 29, 2005
Day Care
Unlike us, Jack has adjusted fairly well to our move to the east coast. In fact, the worst days of transition so far - last Tuesday & Wednesday - when I realized that we had less than two weeks to find reliable day care and we were hiking all over the city to find pay phones in order to call our phone company to find out why our internet and phone weren't working, Jack was laughing, playing in find spirits. He did even better the next day when our furniture arrived (late and busted). He's been sleeping great at night (7-7/7:30) and taking a spectacular nap in the afternoon. Not sure how to transition your toddler from two naps to one? Move across two time zones- it worked miracles for us.
So, despite an obvious growth spurt (Jack toppled the other day- rolled, actually, three times) and some strong teething indications, our one year old is rolling with the changes. Today he spent his first hour in day care. We found (pause for a chorus of hallelujahs) a reliable, clean, loving, affordable day care just a few blocks away run by an Italian American woman with a huge home and established ties to the community. Jack was greeted by two other boys- a three year old and a two year old. Happy to be around boys, Jack barely fussed when we left to go out for breakfast (which I could barely eat due to nerves). Marie informed us that tomorrow might be a bit tougher, since he'll know what to expect, but she's sure he'll adjust just fine.
I actually think that Jack will adjust great. He loves being around other kids, and since he's only there two and a half days, he'll have enough consistency and time with me and dad the other days to look forward to all playmates (that's the hope anyway). As long as all is well in Jack's world, we'll be fine in ours (which, of course, includes his).
I'd post a photo, but we used up our camera batteries taking pictures of our beat-up furniture for the claims forms. I'll be sure and post pics soon.
So, despite an obvious growth spurt (Jack toppled the other day- rolled, actually, three times) and some strong teething indications, our one year old is rolling with the changes. Today he spent his first hour in day care. We found (pause for a chorus of hallelujahs) a reliable, clean, loving, affordable day care just a few blocks away run by an Italian American woman with a huge home and established ties to the community. Jack was greeted by two other boys- a three year old and a two year old. Happy to be around boys, Jack barely fussed when we left to go out for breakfast (which I could barely eat due to nerves). Marie informed us that tomorrow might be a bit tougher, since he'll know what to expect, but she's sure he'll adjust just fine.
I actually think that Jack will adjust great. He loves being around other kids, and since he's only there two and a half days, he'll have enough consistency and time with me and dad the other days to look forward to all playmates (that's the hope anyway). As long as all is well in Jack's world, we'll be fine in ours (which, of course, includes his).
I'd post a photo, but we used up our camera batteries taking pictures of our beat-up furniture for the claims forms. I'll be sure and post pics soon.
Friday, July 15, 2005
No Veggies, Please- It's My Birthday
Not that avoiding vegetables would distinguish today from any other day. But, today was an especially veggie-free, busy day. I just finished putting Jack to bed (exhausted) after our routine battle about not standing up in the bath (tonight, after I told him in my "stern" voice to sit down, he looked at me and started dancing- well, he is one years old afterall). We went to the Woodland Park Zoo this morning- saw some bears, giraffes and hippos - Jack saw a lot of older kids that he wanted to be near (or just be like) -- ate some chicken and cheese (no veggie booty today, thank you), got caught in a bit of rain and headed home for a quick nap before visiting the West Seattle Junction street fair.
Last year, not 10 days after Ed & I moved to our new apartment, we visited the street fair. I was HUGE- about to pop with Jack, so we drove (we drove today, too, because of the rain). It was hot, hot, hot but fun. This year it made sense to visit again, this time with Jack outside the womb. He was a bit tired, but up for socializing. He had his first chicken curry (rice on the side, but no veggies unless you count the tomato, butter-based sauce the chicken came with). He also tried, but didn't care much for, my favorite ice-cream: Husky Deli's swiss chocolate orange (apparently Jack likes the minty ice-cream). He walked quite a bit, and like at the zoo, regressed into crawling - my mom said his legs must be tired; I think he yearns for the early days when he was just a baby.
Well, now that he's one, it's time to think about those resolutions. We've already talked about the zuchinni, broccoli, and carrots about to color the high-chair tray. As for Jack's personal goals this year, I think he would secretly like to be able to grab and hold onto Max's (our cat) tail for at least five seconds before being nipped at (as opposed to the usual 1 second before Max growls his "I'm thoroughly annoyed" meow). I think I'll let them work that out.
In the meantime, I feel a bit like I did the day after Jack was born- quite tired, yet content, and every now and then looking through the "surreal" lenses (you mean this is my son?). The amazement has become somewhat ordinary- it coats days like today with a quiet timelessness. I think heaven must be a little like experiencing your child's first birthday- you still have all the "stuff" of life around you, but it is overshadowed by this little piece of immortality, making all the "stuff" cling to your thoughts like what I imagine the fairy dust does to the characters in Shakespeare's "A MidSummer Night's Dream." In other words, a bit more magical, hopeful, and purposeful. Like the universe is essentially good and, duh, didn't you know that?
Last year, not 10 days after Ed & I moved to our new apartment, we visited the street fair. I was HUGE- about to pop with Jack, so we drove (we drove today, too, because of the rain). It was hot, hot, hot but fun. This year it made sense to visit again, this time with Jack outside the womb. He was a bit tired, but up for socializing. He had his first chicken curry (rice on the side, but no veggies unless you count the tomato, butter-based sauce the chicken came with). He also tried, but didn't care much for, my favorite ice-cream: Husky Deli's swiss chocolate orange (apparently Jack likes the minty ice-cream). He walked quite a bit, and like at the zoo, regressed into crawling - my mom said his legs must be tired; I think he yearns for the early days when he was just a baby.
Well, now that he's one, it's time to think about those resolutions. We've already talked about the zuchinni, broccoli, and carrots about to color the high-chair tray. As for Jack's personal goals this year, I think he would secretly like to be able to grab and hold onto Max's (our cat) tail for at least five seconds before being nipped at (as opposed to the usual 1 second before Max growls his "I'm thoroughly annoyed" meow). I think I'll let them work that out.
In the meantime, I feel a bit like I did the day after Jack was born- quite tired, yet content, and every now and then looking through the "surreal" lenses (you mean this is my son?). The amazement has become somewhat ordinary- it coats days like today with a quiet timelessness. I think heaven must be a little like experiencing your child's first birthday- you still have all the "stuff" of life around you, but it is overshadowed by this little piece of immortality, making all the "stuff" cling to your thoughts like what I imagine the fairy dust does to the characters in Shakespeare's "A MidSummer Night's Dream." In other words, a bit more magical, hopeful, and purposeful. Like the universe is essentially good and, duh, didn't you know that?
Wednesday, July 13, 2005
The joys of Jack's blanket
Jack loves graham crackers and his blanket. You can often catch all three of them (graham cracker, blanket, and Jack) snuggling together. And when there isn't a g.c. around, you're sure to see dried bits of it crushed into the blanket. You see, Jack gets so excited about his blanket, that he can barely swallow his favorite snack before putting a corner of his blanket into his mouth- maybe to soak up the rest of the cracker? Or, more likely, to experience all his favorite things at once.
The kid literally absorbs his blanket. If he sees it across the room, he'll start breathing a bit fast and repeat a somewhat whiny, excited, high-pitched "huh" sound. He'll then grab the blanket, and either inhale half of it or throw it on the ground and face plant right into the middle of it. I tell you, the kid is passionate about his lovey.
I really have nothing profound or insightful to say about his blanket. I just love that he loves it so much. And, the fact that he is unabashadly in love with it. I like that.
The kid literally absorbs his blanket. If he sees it across the room, he'll start breathing a bit fast and repeat a somewhat whiny, excited, high-pitched "huh" sound. He'll then grab the blanket, and either inhale half of it or throw it on the ground and face plant right into the middle of it. I tell you, the kid is passionate about his lovey.
I really have nothing profound or insightful to say about his blanket. I just love that he loves it so much. And, the fact that he is unabashadly in love with it. I like that.
Saturday, July 09, 2005
Just One (of many) Parent Cliche's I'm Fulfilling
I imagine most parents fantasize about how great their child will be. Will he be top of the class, head quarterback, will he win scholarships to a presitgious college, finish law school and become District Attorney, or maybe, become a world renowned photojournalist? Me? I only imagine the worst. I don't even let myself think too far in the future, in the event that something terrible happens. Isn't that terrible? Here's a typical day in my own little Jack mind:
Jack and I take a walk to Thriftway. On the way, I nearly trip over a jagged edge of the sidewalk. I catch myself, but not before I immediately imagine that I could have fallen, hit my head on the concrete, passed out and left Jack in his stroller, crying. Of course, someone would walk by--probably a pedophile--grab the stroller, leave me bleeding to death and run away with my son. I would wake up in the hospital, forced to spend the next 20 years searching for my missing son.
Of course, I then realize how crazy all of this is, and focus instead on the concrete I tripped over, how it is probably a result of a recent earthquake, and how we are bound to have another one (most likely before we move to Boston). And, of course, I will be holding Jack out on our balcony and drop him onto the parking lot three stories below from the force of the shaking earth.
I spoke with another "new" mom who admitted to the same frequent, crazy tragic fantasies and we think that by imagining the worst, it won't happen. It's only when we don't expect it ("I was just walking along, minding my own business") that the worst happens. I suppose I'm a classic parent (mom?) now. I understand why, when I was a teenager, my mom could not fall completely asleep until I got home. She was probably thinking about how my car broke down in the wrong part of town and how I asked someone for help - someone who's idol happened to be Ted Bundy.
When we were pregnant, we would talk with friends of ours (who recently had had a baby) how much we thought/worried about whether or not the baby would be healthy, how anxious we were about labor and delivery, etc. Matt just looked at us and said, "and that's before he's out of the womb- imagine all the worries that come after." Ain't he right.
Jack and I take a walk to Thriftway. On the way, I nearly trip over a jagged edge of the sidewalk. I catch myself, but not before I immediately imagine that I could have fallen, hit my head on the concrete, passed out and left Jack in his stroller, crying. Of course, someone would walk by--probably a pedophile--grab the stroller, leave me bleeding to death and run away with my son. I would wake up in the hospital, forced to spend the next 20 years searching for my missing son.
Of course, I then realize how crazy all of this is, and focus instead on the concrete I tripped over, how it is probably a result of a recent earthquake, and how we are bound to have another one (most likely before we move to Boston). And, of course, I will be holding Jack out on our balcony and drop him onto the parking lot three stories below from the force of the shaking earth.
I spoke with another "new" mom who admitted to the same frequent, crazy tragic fantasies and we think that by imagining the worst, it won't happen. It's only when we don't expect it ("I was just walking along, minding my own business") that the worst happens. I suppose I'm a classic parent (mom?) now. I understand why, when I was a teenager, my mom could not fall completely asleep until I got home. She was probably thinking about how my car broke down in the wrong part of town and how I asked someone for help - someone who's idol happened to be Ted Bundy.
When we were pregnant, we would talk with friends of ours (who recently had had a baby) how much we thought/worried about whether or not the baby would be healthy, how anxious we were about labor and delivery, etc. Matt just looked at us and said, "and that's before he's out of the womb- imagine all the worries that come after." Ain't he right.
Wednesday, June 22, 2005
Weaning Mom
Sunday morning was the last time that Jack nursed. I only wish I knew it then. Driving home from Tacoma that night, I got hit with one of the worst flu/colds I've had in a while. I swear, I could actually feel the germs taking over; it was like a planned attack. They were all waiting in their bunkers, listening to my thoughts. "We'll be moving this time next month, that is, if Ed gets this fellowship, which we find out tomorrow, I need to get a job, we need to find a place to live, what about the cats, oh, should probably pay some bills, wait, is that my throat getting sore? oh, and why am I shaking so much?" Ed & Jack opened the apartment door, I stumbled through and barely kissed Jack goodnight before crashing into bed, delirious with tears and a fever. I had no healthy space to worry about whether or not Jack would miss nursing right before bed.
Apparently, he's fine. Ed's been getting him up in the morning (the other time he used to nurse) and putting him to bed. I got Jack up this morning and he showed no interest in nursing- to my slight shock. I guess I'm the one who needs the real weaning. I just wish I knew Sunday morning that that was the last time- so much so that I'm seriously considering going back to nursing (if Jack'll take me) just for a week so I can cherish it. But, then I've realized how precious the last few weeks have been since we've been on basically a schedule of habit rather than nutritional need.
I keep thinking about the Friday night months ago when Jack was still sleeping in our bed and how he would nurse and nurse and nurse and nurse forEVER and how I finally couldn't take it anymore, and got up, crying, desperate, leaving Jack with Ed and went and called my mom and sister, crazy with the need to have my body back. Both very sympathetic, my mom compassionately laughed, finally able to "let me in" on the kind of complex, intense emotions that come with motherhood (parenthood). Back then, I couldn't WAIT to have MY breasts back (despite jack's clear possession of them). Any nursing mother knows exactly what I mean.
When I first found out I was pregnant, a friend of mine emailed me saying that kids bring out the extremes of ALL your emotions: love, anger, exhaustion (yes, exhaustion is an emotion), whatever. She couldn't have been more right. Here am I now, not five months after my breast-breakdown, and I am craving the lost nursing time. It's definitely not like Sesame Street where you're either "sad," "happy," or "mad." Having kids blends all the emotions even more than they were by just living an adult day-to-day life. Just trying to articulate the feeling that sums up how proud I am of Jack for not being clingy and riding the transition so well, how short my breath is drawn when I remember that we won't nurse again-ever, how nice it is knowing there are other ways to be close, and how great it will be that Ed and I can take turns sleeping in now- well, that's no easy task. I do enjoy trying to find the language for it all, though. But mostly, I'm grateful that I have so many (good) feelings to try and express.
Apparently, he's fine. Ed's been getting him up in the morning (the other time he used to nurse) and putting him to bed. I got Jack up this morning and he showed no interest in nursing- to my slight shock. I guess I'm the one who needs the real weaning. I just wish I knew Sunday morning that that was the last time- so much so that I'm seriously considering going back to nursing (if Jack'll take me) just for a week so I can cherish it. But, then I've realized how precious the last few weeks have been since we've been on basically a schedule of habit rather than nutritional need.
I keep thinking about the Friday night months ago when Jack was still sleeping in our bed and how he would nurse and nurse and nurse and nurse forEVER and how I finally couldn't take it anymore, and got up, crying, desperate, leaving Jack with Ed and went and called my mom and sister, crazy with the need to have my body back. Both very sympathetic, my mom compassionately laughed, finally able to "let me in" on the kind of complex, intense emotions that come with motherhood (parenthood). Back then, I couldn't WAIT to have MY breasts back (despite jack's clear possession of them). Any nursing mother knows exactly what I mean.
When I first found out I was pregnant, a friend of mine emailed me saying that kids bring out the extremes of ALL your emotions: love, anger, exhaustion (yes, exhaustion is an emotion), whatever. She couldn't have been more right. Here am I now, not five months after my breast-breakdown, and I am craving the lost nursing time. It's definitely not like Sesame Street where you're either "sad," "happy," or "mad." Having kids blends all the emotions even more than they were by just living an adult day-to-day life. Just trying to articulate the feeling that sums up how proud I am of Jack for not being clingy and riding the transition so well, how short my breath is drawn when I remember that we won't nurse again-ever, how nice it is knowing there are other ways to be close, and how great it will be that Ed and I can take turns sleeping in now- well, that's no easy task. I do enjoy trying to find the language for it all, though. But mostly, I'm grateful that I have so many (good) feelings to try and express.
Tuesday, June 14, 2005
Car. Truck. SUV?
Jack and I take at least one walk a day- with or without the stroller. He is starting to become particularly interested in vehicles. He knows what a bus is and I think he's learning to distinguish the "big" trucks. I say "car" as the typical corollas and civics drive by, but I'm not sure how much detail I should relay for those vehicles not clearly a "car" or a "truck." For instance, mini-vans. Should I say "van?" After all, what makes a truck a truck is its size or the open back. What about SUV's- they are pretty much a car, but the size factor leans towards truck. And, don't even get me started on the PTg Cruisers. A "SUV car?" maybe. It probably doesn't matter all that much now. I'm just trying to keep things simple, yet honest. I'm sure he'll learn soon enough all the varieties of cars, trucks, whatever. Much like his cousin, Elijah, seemed to learn all the different kinds of dinasours before he was four.
Friday, June 10, 2005
Croup
Last night Jack fell asleep and within two hours started barking. He sounded like the baby in "Terms of Endearment." You know- the scene where Debra Winger's character is up with the baby in the bathroom while her husband (can't remember the actor's name) tells her they need to move to a new town for his job. What an odd coincidence. Anyway, we knew Jack wasn't feeling good because the other night he sat on Ed's lap for about twenty minutes (unprecedented) and just sucked on his blanket. Poor little guy. Poor me. I'm grading SAT essays online this week and next trying to earn a lot of extra money for next month, plus finish grading essays and final grades for my online class. The nurse suggested sleeping in Jack's room for a few nights just be sure he could breathe. I can't imagine. Thank goodness the monitor is a viable option. I keep trying to remember all that is good- and so much is. Our stress derives purely from choices WE'VE made in life-- not seemingly random events that would allow us to soak in victimhood. And our stress is what "they" call good stress: balancing a loving family with available work, planning for a move that will help Ed fulfill his dreams, feeling both exhausted and invigorated by my renewed trips to the Y for spin and pilates classes, oh yeah- and helping a croupy Jack through the days (grump!) and nights. I would hate to see how we'd react if something happened that made us see that we really have no control over life's events.
Thursday, June 02, 2005
Wednesday, June 01, 2005
Memorable Day
Jack took six "free" steps on Memorial Day. Nana Kingston set him down in the grass (standing) and he walked to me. It was amazing. Ed, concerned with his ribs on the Q, missed it. But, Jack was gracious enough to provide an instant replay so daddy could see. Since then he hasn't been as interested in walking; I bet he thinks the crawling is much faster. I'm sure it won't be long now before he's running after the cats.
A few months ago there was a Parenting magazine article about "letting go." The beginning of the article wrote about the pangs of realizing a child could fall asleep without your help (that they didn't need mommy or daddy as much). At the time (when Jack was probably still only falling asleep when I laid down with him-- and stayed in bed with him-- at around 9:00 PM), I literally guffawed. I always read about the guffaw, but until I imgained parents bemoaning their child's ability to fall asleep without them, I hadn't actually let out a true "guffaw." And, when Jack finally did realize that he didn't need me or daddy to fall asleep by himself in his crib, I did not feel any tug on my apron strings. In fact, I think I jumped for joy for a week or so.
Yet, when Jack took those six independent steps the other day, I felt an ever so slight twang. I realized that yes, one day Jack wouldn't need me at all. Sure, he'll always love me (I hope) and we'll be there for him whenever he needs it (maybe not in the way he wants us to be there- but we'll be there), but bit by bit, he'll distance himself from us to establish his own path in life. Those six steps are moving him towards who he is- or, towards "Jack." I read (or heard) somewhere part of a poem or saying that said, "our children are not ours." They may feel like ours for all the years we care, feed, bathe, and clothe them, but really, a parent's role is to give a child the best opportunity to discover who s/he is- with no strings attached. This is hard. I imagine that it will only get harder the more invested I am in Jack. But then, unconditional love is hard- I just didn't know how difficult (and probably won't really know for a long time) it might be. Not because I expect Jack to love us back as much as we love him, but because I'll have to let him walk his way ever so slowly- and just as slowly hold back the worries and the weight of motherly love like I see my mom still doing from time to time.
Anyway, I'm excited that Jack is learning to walk. He is so proud of himself when he does. And I'm thrilled to discover who is is becoming.
A few months ago there was a Parenting magazine article about "letting go." The beginning of the article wrote about the pangs of realizing a child could fall asleep without your help (that they didn't need mommy or daddy as much). At the time (when Jack was probably still only falling asleep when I laid down with him-- and stayed in bed with him-- at around 9:00 PM), I literally guffawed. I always read about the guffaw, but until I imgained parents bemoaning their child's ability to fall asleep without them, I hadn't actually let out a true "guffaw." And, when Jack finally did realize that he didn't need me or daddy to fall asleep by himself in his crib, I did not feel any tug on my apron strings. In fact, I think I jumped for joy for a week or so.
Yet, when Jack took those six independent steps the other day, I felt an ever so slight twang. I realized that yes, one day Jack wouldn't need me at all. Sure, he'll always love me (I hope) and we'll be there for him whenever he needs it (maybe not in the way he wants us to be there- but we'll be there), but bit by bit, he'll distance himself from us to establish his own path in life. Those six steps are moving him towards who he is- or, towards "Jack." I read (or heard) somewhere part of a poem or saying that said, "our children are not ours." They may feel like ours for all the years we care, feed, bathe, and clothe them, but really, a parent's role is to give a child the best opportunity to discover who s/he is- with no strings attached. This is hard. I imagine that it will only get harder the more invested I am in Jack. But then, unconditional love is hard- I just didn't know how difficult (and probably won't really know for a long time) it might be. Not because I expect Jack to love us back as much as we love him, but because I'll have to let him walk his way ever so slowly- and just as slowly hold back the worries and the weight of motherly love like I see my mom still doing from time to time.
Anyway, I'm excited that Jack is learning to walk. He is so proud of himself when he does. And I'm thrilled to discover who is is becoming.
Wednesday, May 25, 2005
Talking & Traveling
At our nine month check-up, the doctor proclaimed Jack's "excellent motor skills." He also asked, assumingly, whether Jack was saying "ma-ma" and/or "da-da" (like, of course he is, right?). Ed & I looked at each other and admitted no. On the drive back home, Ed talked only to Jack, saying "ma-ma," "ma-ma," "ma-ma." We're trying not to get too caught up in what Jack "is supposed" to be doing.
So, since the nine month visit to the doc, we've casually been saying "ma-ma" or "da-da" around Jack. But, his most coherent word- and one he seems to use correctly-- is "hi." That was, until this last weekend when we drove down to Tacoma for my Aunt Dale's wedding shower (she's marrying a man she dated over forty years ago!). When everyone woke up from their naps before leaving for the shower, Jack was (as usual) thrilled to see his cousins whose running, laughing, and playing keep his undivided attention. When he saw Lily, he began to talk and said over and over what sounded very much like "yi-yi." Mmm.. mama and dada don't hold a candle to Lily's power over Jack.
On Monday, Jack and I drove up to Bellingham for the memorial service of the pastor who I worked for while attending graduate school. It was Jack's longest car ride to date. After a LOT of singing, graham crackers, and a potty emergency (mine, not Jack's) at a rest-stop, we finally made it to the church. While I wasn't able to hear most of the service because of Jack's talking and need to explore, it was good to see people and spend a moment remembering Donel. Jack enjoyed crawling around between everyone's legs at the reception and I was able to catch up briefly with some of the women who were so important in my life for those three years at WWU. Jack fell asleep on the drive home, giving me an unusual amount of time to reflect and just be.
We're back on schedule today. He's sleeping well, still a bit anxious/interested in the washer/dryer and the vaccuum, and working on taking a step between the coffee and side table. I'm back to saying "da-da" now and then, hoping he'll just start rambling off those syllables along with all the other talk. Of course there's no hurry for him to talk. I'm just so excited to have a conversation with language.
So, since the nine month visit to the doc, we've casually been saying "ma-ma" or "da-da" around Jack. But, his most coherent word- and one he seems to use correctly-- is "hi." That was, until this last weekend when we drove down to Tacoma for my Aunt Dale's wedding shower (she's marrying a man she dated over forty years ago!). When everyone woke up from their naps before leaving for the shower, Jack was (as usual) thrilled to see his cousins whose running, laughing, and playing keep his undivided attention. When he saw Lily, he began to talk and said over and over what sounded very much like "yi-yi." Mmm.. mama and dada don't hold a candle to Lily's power over Jack.
On Monday, Jack and I drove up to Bellingham for the memorial service of the pastor who I worked for while attending graduate school. It was Jack's longest car ride to date. After a LOT of singing, graham crackers, and a potty emergency (mine, not Jack's) at a rest-stop, we finally made it to the church. While I wasn't able to hear most of the service because of Jack's talking and need to explore, it was good to see people and spend a moment remembering Donel. Jack enjoyed crawling around between everyone's legs at the reception and I was able to catch up briefly with some of the women who were so important in my life for those three years at WWU. Jack fell asleep on the drive home, giving me an unusual amount of time to reflect and just be.
We're back on schedule today. He's sleeping well, still a bit anxious/interested in the washer/dryer and the vaccuum, and working on taking a step between the coffee and side table. I'm back to saying "da-da" now and then, hoping he'll just start rambling off those syllables along with all the other talk. Of course there's no hurry for him to talk. I'm just so excited to have a conversation with language.
Friday, May 13, 2005
First Steps
Today Jack took one "free" step between the window sill and his old babybouncer. I cooed with delight as he sqealed with joy. Though still obsessed with the smoke alarm and the vacuum (and the closet where the vacum resides), he's learning to overcome his fears/fascination by confronting these things face to face.
We went to Mexican for dinner with Maya and Iota and Jack kept trying to feed Iota dinner with his spoon- once he even held the spoon steady enough for her to get a bite. They talked and talked- no doubt Iota was releaved that Jack couldn't scratch her eyes out from the highchair. I still don't know why he wants to grab at the faces of the other kids. I know he's excited to see them, but there's got to be better ways to express his emotion.
This week marks the first full week that Jack has slept through the night (7:00 PM - 6:00/6:30 AM). So, it's the first full week I've slept at least six consecutive hours in about a year. Strangely enough, I'm quite exhausted. I guess the sleep books were right-- sleep begets sleep -- and now that my body remembers, it wants to catch up.
So, time for bed.
We went to Mexican for dinner with Maya and Iota and Jack kept trying to feed Iota dinner with his spoon- once he even held the spoon steady enough for her to get a bite. They talked and talked- no doubt Iota was releaved that Jack couldn't scratch her eyes out from the highchair. I still don't know why he wants to grab at the faces of the other kids. I know he's excited to see them, but there's got to be better ways to express his emotion.
This week marks the first full week that Jack has slept through the night (7:00 PM - 6:00/6:30 AM). So, it's the first full week I've slept at least six consecutive hours in about a year. Strangely enough, I'm quite exhausted. I guess the sleep books were right-- sleep begets sleep -- and now that my body remembers, it wants to catch up.
So, time for bed.
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