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?
Friday, September 23, 2005
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.
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