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.
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