April 20, 2016
Puppy-in-training
LB will stop dead in hir tracks whenever Seamus gets his dinner. These days, it’s less the calculating “Can I get there in time to see what he’s eating and grab a handful?” and more of a thoughtful, head cocked, wheels turning in hir head expression. I don’t think it’s any coincidence that ze is now experimenting with eating face-first or carrying hir plush toys in hir mouth. Also I think ze has now established that dog kibble is not actually a super treat. The hard way, of course.
The Negotiator
This kid can count like a dog can count. When I pull out crackers to share, ze gets one and I get one. Except not. Ze stuffs hir cracker into a cheek and immediately flings out a chubby, imperious hand to demand the other.
When offering hir one of two toys, ze maneuvers so that ze accepts one and then swipes the other one before you have a chance to pull it back.
Ze will accept offers of trade, except it’s a bait and hook scheme. Ze offers me an item, clearly wanting what’s in my hand, and then refuses to relinquish the proffered toy. The toddler always wins.
Food is good, unless it’s not
Even as ze is more opinionated about having to examine all food that goes into hir mouth, most of it is eaten pretty happily. Most rejections are of the Eh boooooored variety in which case it goes over the shoulder or is casually dropped down by hir side. Life’s too short for boring food, I guess.
We share meals with LB, ze doesn’t get a special meal or special preparation beyond cutting up spinach so ze doesn’t choke. And like Seamus was extra motivated to take his medication as soon as Doggle started cruising by and asking for some, it’s motivated hir to eat more and better through the conviction that I’ll eat hir food if ze doesn’t.
I will.
And it’s great.
Su comida es mi comida
Last month, my food in my bowl was hir food for hir mouth. Now ze is insisting that what ze eats, I must eat, pointing hir fork at me with an insistent “ey!” Ze is slowly learning “no thanks” because ze already knows the command for “put it in YOUR mouth” so the two of them together means I won’t be eating that twice-slobbered banana please, thank you, and ewwww.
Yes, I said “command”. Ze is like a puppy. These are useful commands.
Give it up, puppy
Ze demanded the orange slice I was going to eat. Fair enough, I’d stolen it from hir bowl in the first place. Ze held it flat on hir palm then SQUEEZED! as if to say “I just didn’t want you to have it.”
The juice splattered everywhere and one stream hit hir right in the eye.
Never try to dominate Mom. The universe is on my side, kid.
Independence
You know that feeling when someone’s doing a thing that you can do much better but you have to sit on your hands because they’ll never learn if you do it for them? It pays off. After months of practicing pincher movements and accidentally flinging food over hir shoulder, ze can steer a small spoon with its contents into hir mouth AND pick up the crumbs that didn’t make safe landing.
April 13, 2016
Everyone is down. I repeat, everyone is down.
PiC’s taken to bed with a high fever, LB’s the one who brought home the fever and is still sick, and I’m pretty broken as well. Seamus is the only one still going on all pistons. You’d think he’d have more concern for his survival in this situation. Instead, he steadfastly sticks by us with an air of unconcern.
LB has been waking around 3 am, right at 6 hours past Motrin o’clock, crying pitifully. Ze’s congested, and burning up again. I stumble around prepping the syringe of Motrin and a small bottle of milk. Ze will be thirsty and hungry to boot. PiC’s woken up and came to refresh the humidifier, cuddling LB so I can administer the dose and changes hir diaper. My heart breaks for hir small hiccups and cries as ze struggles to find a way to be comfortable. I send PiC to bed, he’s far worse off than I am, and send Seamus off as well. He’d woken up sometime after I did and came to join us as we tended to LB, sprawling bedside.
Seamus ambles off, amiably and LB dozes fitfully on my chest. Ze hasn’t slept on me since ze was four or five months and as terrible as we both feel, this brings back fond memories. Except now ze is three times larger and heavier. I roll hir off me gently and tuck her into my side so I can breathe too.
We manage four hours of restless but blissful dozing, and we’re up again. PiC stumbles in as I change hir diaper. He of the functional immune system feels better after a few hours of unbroken sleep so it’s my turn. He takes over while I catch a couple hours, then we switch again. He has to go to work for a few hours, so he leaves for the office while I clear up and get caught up on the morning’s work. The tidying can wait, I only have so much energy and my brain needs it all for work.
LB is so exhausted that the nap stretches an unheard of 4 hours, and I can relax a little bit. I’ve gotten so much done, despite a raw throat, roaring headache, and multitude of aches, that it feels like we can survive this day.
PiC gets home around 1 pm and makes us all lunch. Reluctantly, thinking ze will take up the rest of the day, I log off and we have a quiet meal together.
He’s in charge of hir now so I can carry on working and resting but he’s lucked out. Ze is still so worn out barely two hours after waking, we hear a pitifully tired “put me to bed” cry. We comply and he collapses for a short rest.
We’re not usually this sick and this is definitely as sick as LB has ever been. What a rough induction into cold and flu season? Whoever thought “what better way to challenge our Team Parent skills than to kick out our legs and push us down a hill”, if I find you, there’s a punch coming to your nose.
What did I learn?
Many of these days are about survival, and that’s ok. We don’t have any help other than paid daycare a few days a week so we are careful to spell each other and are maybe more considerate of each other’s needs than if we had more help.
We don’t have to navigate family and complicated related feelings because we’re isolated and don’t have family help. It’s occurred to us that this has actually worked out for us. We’re stronger as a team because we’ve learned to work through our strengths, weaknesses, assumptions, and all of the complications that naturally come up through a long relationship. As much as we miss our parents, far or gone, this hasn’t been without its benefits even on those really hard days.
:: Are you in close proximity to family? Is that a good or bad thing?
April 6, 2016
Around 6 am, the snorfling starts. This kid is nothing like me – goes from asleep to wide awake in less than three winks – so any waking movement is The Real Deal.
PiC’s already up and initiating the daddy+baby morning routine so I pass out again, dozing until 7 am.
I brush my teeth and check email for any emergencies. Nothing this morning so I take over feeding LB, give Seamus his morning meds, and strap LB into the stroller and head out for a walk. PiC usually takes them for a walk before I get up but since I’m up early, he might as well get a head start on getting ready.
We come back 30 minutes later for blocks and song: ze stands at the block box handing me one at a time, bobbing hir head to my song. Ze hands me one block, I hand hir another. Rinse and repeat.
Ze spies PiC around the corner, not paying attention to either of us. Opportunity! Ze makes a crawl-dash for the dog’s water bowl. Seamus’s water bowl beckons to hir irresistably. We head off some dashes, the others result in flying hir to the sink after ze has a good splash in his bowl. Seamus is NOT amused.
Hands washed, it’s book time. I start to read Tremendous Tractors at the book bench, ze leans up against the bench to listen for half a page, then starts sorting. This book is for … you. This book is for … you. This book is for … Seamus. This book is for … you. Halfway through reading, Busy Hands has handed me the entire stack of books. Rinse and repeat for the second half of the reading.
Next up: musical toys. Some toys are for sharing, like the blocks and Legos, some are for pulling apart and flinging about. This is one of the latter. Ze prefers to fly solo as ze wrestles the rings off the stand and discards them over a shoulder. Naturally I very helpfully undo all hir work as ze finishes, placing the parts all back on the stand again. This is worth about 20 minutes.
One of hir other musical toys goes off. Over my shoulder, I see Seamus grin and tuck his paw under his chin. THANKS.
A frown, an eye-rub. Then a bigger frown and a double eye-rub. Ze won’t admit it but the fatigue is upon hir and it’s time to warm a bottle. We’ll be weaning off the bottle soon, so we’re in a transition period of bottles before naps and sippy cups after. We bounce on the yoga ball on the way to the sofa. Bottle clutched in chubby hands, tiny feet propped up on my lap, we relax for a few minutes. And I check email again. All’s quiet, just routine stuff, so I enjoy a moment of almost-cuddling with my squirmy worm.
Bottle polished off, ze hands it to me and contemplates hir full belly with a half smile. Time was, ze would finish bottle and throw it like a football. I like this new development. LB settles down after 9 am and Seamus gets breakfast. Now, it’s my time: get a glass of water, find my glasses, my computer, and dive into work. But first: sweatpants!
I get an hour and a quarter on Nap 1. I mowed down all urgent and important emails, jot to-do list for the rest of my work day. Caught up on some projects and even unexpectedly finish a call early so I process an Amazon return and package up the box to drop off at the post office. Prep the first load of laundry, it’ll be ready for drying sometime when ze gets up.
A wail. That’s never good. Ze normally wakes up and plays for a while, then yells for rescue, but ze has been running a fever the past few days and evidently ze’s miserable again. I hold hir for a while. Ze doesn’t want food or water, doesn’t want to be put down but doesn’t want to be held like that either. We sit on the ground with some toys, sadly looking at one, then another, until my silly song and toy rattling coaxes a smile to the surface. Soon enough it’s submerged under tears, again. This calls for a change in scenery, and we also need milk.
Seamus is appalled. We’re obviously going outside, but we’re not taking him with us??? It’s literally unbelievable. He walks out the front door to wait outside because surely we don’t mean to go anywhere without him. Except, we must. We’re going to walk to the grocery store and he’s not allowed inside. I’m certainly not tying him up outside, someone might steal him. And I can’t tie him outside with LB. I think that’s frowned on.
Heavy with guilt, I lock up, leaving him to contemplate the traitorous nature of Humans.
The outing helps hir mood. I pick up groceries, then we struggle our way back home. It’s a long bracing walk but I seem to have caught hir bug. Everything is heavier, more exhausting. It takes us 45 minutes, round trip.
I get a text from PiC as we arrive home and start coaxing some food into the somewhat refreshed baby. Between bites, we realize that he’d failed to plan his day all the way through and now needs to be picked up. He’s tried asking a few friends if they were in the area but I thought it unlikely so I dose hir up with ibuprofen (doc’s orders!), strap hir into the harness, and we plod back outside to the car.
Mom and baby to the rescue: we pick up PiC from the nearby transit stop, and we make a quick stop at the pharmacy for my meds before getting back home.Usually I have them mailed but the pharmacy screwed up this refill.
Snack time part two commences with a bun and a pinch bowl of raisins. These are perfect for letting hir feed hirself: small enough to fit infant-appropriate serving size snacks, the bowls are sturdy and flexible, ze thinks they’re toys as much as food vehicles. Ze upends the bowl, wears it as a hat, chews on the side thoughtfully.
It’s been 3 hours since Nap 1, so I prep another bottle for hir and peel my shoes out of hir hands again. Someday, this child will stop trying to lick my shoes. Until then …. I cuddle hir on my lap with a bottle. Usually ze lays on the ground snuggled into hir Boppy but today I’m too tired to pick hir up again so lap it is. NOPE, ze struggles back up. I push hir back and offer the bottle again. Well, ok. Ze drinks, pops the bottle out to show me hir progress halfway through, squirts hirself in the face with milk, and finally finishes.
Off to bed. There are some protests. There may be some bar rattling. But once I’ve initiated naptime procedures, I don’t look back. That ze knows of, anyway. *glances at the monitor*
2:11 pm: Silence. Ze has passed out. I might, too. But no, I have work to do. I could eat but am dragging-tired so peel a couple of clementines and dive back into work.
Ze sleeps two whole hours, waking in time to go on a walk with Seamus. As he chows down on early dinner, LB and I work on snacks. I cut up bananas and ze shakes up the yogurt cup. We have fruit, yogurt and some toast. Ze makes a complete mess of drinking milk from a sippy cup, again, so I mop up the milk spattered floor while ze pulls out the Legos for another pass at “building”. This means clapping them together and putting them back in the box, waving a special one at me every so often.
Hir patience seems unusually good for being under the weather so I take advantage of the free hands to prep dinner. He never expects it but the night feels like it goes so much more smoothly if dinner is ready just as PiC’s getting home. Most LB & me nights, that doesn’t happen, but ze is hanging out and entertaining hirself with the Legos so the stove and oven are fired up.
PiC rolls in a bit after 6, some surprise thing held him up, but we’re still on track for a quick dinner and put LB to bed by 7:30. Excellent! I hide in the bathroom to decompress for about 20 minutes, and then get back to work. Meanwhile, PiC puts together LB’s lunch for the next day. I usually do that but he’s got it today.
My concentration is excellent the first three hours, then call it an early night closing in on midnight. My aches are getting the better of me and I’ve cleared the day’s work, go go efficiency! It’s best to lay my broken body down for actual rest.
What did I learn?
Being flexible is the only way to survive combo days. If I try to stick to a rigid schedule like I might set for a daycare day, my focus is fractured and I do nothing well. Being present in the moment means ze and I are fully engaged when ze needs me, and then I’m fully engaged with my work when I’m working.
PiC handles all the out of the house chores like dealing with all the auto chores, picking up milk or medication, or dropping off packages. This leaves me free to use my energy where it’s most needed. Don’t get me wrong, he does plenty around the house, too, but that’s for another post.
I used to think we should hire out some of the work at home but honestly as we settle into routines, it doesn’t feel like we need to anymore. Which is good because as it happens, there’s not much extra room in the budget anyway.
We had a long discussion recently about our routine, it gets a bit flabby when it seems like you’re doing the same things over and over, but you’re really slipping into chaos bit by bit.
We’re committing to an 11 pm bedtime and to carving out specific hours on the weekend for my work. Unrelated? Not at all. We rely on each other heavily but if we’re both sleep deprived, then we’re no good to each other. So, more sleep. And more dedicated time on the weekend to engage with my work because sometimes I just need more hours on that front.
:: How set is your daily routine? Do you prefer a set schedule or taking it as it goes?
March 30, 2016
I’d been wondering something in my quiet moments. Why I haven’t started that business yet, or finished a creative project? Surely I’ve not gotten lazy and complacent?
It’s possible but it doesn’t seem likely.
Despite knowing that I’m awfully tired from constantly being on the go, oh and also you know, health, it’s hard to fight the sneaking suspicion that my lack of greater achievement’s down to a personal failing.
To get to the truth, I decided to Time Study myself. What do I do all day? Where can I make improvements?
Between two full jobs, a full toddler, Seamus, and the odd hobby or two, there is no such thing as a typical day.
Our days fit in three categories: both of us are home and I have work, I’m home with LB and have work, I have work and no LB.
So let’s dive right in!
A day where I work without the baby around
PiC gets to sleep in until 6:20 am, could lay abed even later if he wanted because LB doesn’t stir until 6:30 but he likes to get started ahead of hir.
It’s 7:47 before I hear it. The door creaks open and a cackle floats in. It’s time for my morning kiss and goodbye, it’s a Daddy and LB day, which also means it’s a Mom and Seamus day.
I sit up. “Can I have a kiss?” Obligingly LB leans in and suckerfishes to my cheek. Little lick, little nibble. Baby kiss!
“Can I have one more?”
Ze convulses in a silent laugh, then twists upside down and sideways out of PiC’s arms to dangle over me, expectant.
I catch hir blithely trusting form and ze grins. One last kiss for the family and they’re off. Seamus and I look at each other, and flop back in bed for another ten minutes of cozy peace.
Sooner than I’d like, I crawl out of bed. It’s time for Seamus’s morning routine.
Checking email on my phone for emergencies, I brush my teeth and get dressed. The favorite part of my telecommuting schedule is usually living in my pajamas but somehow getting dressed in the morning feels more efficient than waiting til we have to go outside later.
Within 15 minutes of waking, Seamus has his medication and we’re headed outside. This used to be a quick dash to take care of business while I distractedly checked email on my phone. Thanks to a reminder of OHIO, I’ve adopted a firm stance about time wasted on rereading emails, so this is now our time to contemplate and appreciate nature in companionable silence. We move slowly at first in the morning chill, watching the last bits of fog lace through the tree branches, letting our old joints warm up.
By the time we find our stride, it’s time to mosey on back. Our morning jaunts take 25 minutes, and then Seamus prances at the door, anticipating breakfast. I get him started, start a load of whites in the wash, get a glass of water, find my glasses, and settle in to work.
Thirty seven emails and 4 hours later, it’s time to hydrate and grab a mini chocolate bar from the fridge. As an afterthought, and a placatory gesture to the adult somewhere in me, I also take the yogurt cup with me. Funny how when you set the yogurt and candy on the desk together, I end up eating the yogurt first. Don’t get me wrong, the candy disappears an hour later, too.
Think about eating a real meal. Keep working.
Early afternoon brings a quick flurry of activity: put clothes in the dryer, wash the dishes, prep the veggies for tonight’s dinner, open, recycle, and shred mail. Put together the week’s to do packet for bills. Then, back at the computer for three more hours.
Seamus dines early these days, but he always starts the dinner dance 30 minutes before just in case I can be wheedled. Most of the afternoon is dog-naps, but his internal clock is something to behold as his perked ears bob up behind my computer screen five minutes before I intend to take a break. Dinner for him is the work of a few minutes, then I’m back into the computer glare for another hour.
By 5 pm, a break would be welcome, as would be dinner, so I head into the kitchen to throw something together. Starch, veggie, protein!
Put the pot pie in the oven and sit back down to quickly draft about two-thirds of a blog post from that scrap of an idea that bubbled up with the pot pie fixings. 30 minutes later, the oven is cozy just in time for LB and PiC to get home, exclaiming about the buttery pastry scents wafting out the door.
LB hands me the contents of the daycare bag, one by one, and I quickly wash up hir bottles and lunch boxes.
LB’s still unbelievably upbeat after a long day with hardly a nap, so ze cackles hir way through deconstructed pot pie, and then experiments with gravity. Hey look! The chicken will SPLAT just like the carrot did, and so does the green bean! That’s hilarious! *cackles*
We know it’s a necessary phase but child, stop that!
We bundle The Messy One off to hit the showers once the play time turns to boredom and most of the food now gets rubbed in hir hair. A bottle of milk warms during shower time, and the non-bathing parent clears up the dinner mess.
By 8:20, ze’s creaking and chirping from bed, falling asleep, and I get a shower! I wryly think back to the early days of newborn life when a shower was a complete luxury and give myself a full 10 minutes before it’s back to work while PiC does post-dinner washing up.
My concentration starts to waver around 10:30 and I realize that the last ten minutes were lost to mindless oblivion. It’s time to call it, so I check everything one last time to make sure I hit my deadlines and head to the kitchen.
Usually packing LB’s lunch is still amusing: ze eats everything so I just compose a sort of balanced collection of snacks in bite sizes and that’s set. (Yes, I’m easily amused.) I’m the most underachieving bento box packing mom ever and I’m only that because it totally entertains me. If I could justify it, ze would be carrying hir own R2-D2 to daycare. Heck, if I had to pack a lunch that sucker would be MINE. PiC is in charge of the bottles and labeling everything according to daycare procedure.
Oh and Seamus needs his meds so I check on the supply and make a mental note. Second half of the month is always time to figure out if we need more medications or pill pockets, or basically anything on Amazon’s Subscribe & Save. I’m aiming for that 15% off, if we get a delivery.
The kitchen’s cleared up, lunch is packed, and we’ve made it through another day. I deserve bed and a book. If only sleep came to adults as easily as it does to the dog whose been snoring for the past 2 hours! These hours of the night are the most wasteful part of my 24 hours: I have to read to relax enough to sleep. There are days, though, sleep eludes me til past 2 am.
Yesterday, I worked til 2 am so at least trying to sleep is an improvement for this hour of the night.
What did I learn?
As much as I love seeeing LB’s face all day, when it comes to working, daycare is a blessing. I get so much done when it’s just me. I have so energy left at the end of the day to snuggle hir and do bedtime routines. If only daycare wasn’t a petri dish but that immune system needs to be built sometime and early is better than later.
Daycare has made a huge difference in our ability to get things done and not be exhausted every second of every day. It’s been absolutely critical in letting us both have our alone time professionally, and therefore have the energy to give each other personal time.
I’m not a morning person but sometimes my pain drives an extra early morning whether I intended to or not. This means that it’s not always a good idea to insist on getting everything done the night before. For the first time, I’m becoming relaxed about doing as much as I can, when I can, and trusting that the rest will get done in its own time.
:: What morning routines work best for you? Are you decidedly at your best at any particular time of day or day of week?
March 23, 2016
For months after LB’s arrival, the sum total of my aerobic exercise was taking Seamus for daily walks with LB strapped into the stroller or the carrier.
I didn’t have the energy for more than that and, particularly when breastfeeding, there was no motivation for yet another thing in the list of things to do.
PiC and I have access to at least one basic gym as part of non-optional fees we pay, but taking a solo trip to the gym when you have two critters at home begging for your time and attention? They’re really good at the oogly eyes, thing. Well, Seamus is. There was that once I strapped LB to my chest for a jaunt on the treadmill. It was fun in that rickety roller coaster kind of way. Turns out wearing a 20 lb weight with grabby hands leads to unexpected (totally predictable) events like the Grand Yoinking of the emergency STOP pin, or *beep beep beep* Run faster!, or the equally stumble-inducing *beep beep beep* Slow it waaaay down!
But taking a ramble outdoors, that’s easy, right? It’s free, and more importantly, free of major dangerous opportunities for the kid to kill you. Bonus: the dog can come along.
That’s the ticket! Buuuut as a sleep-deprived and chronically fatigued mom, what really happens is we mosey outside and down the road, then shuffle our shanks back into the warm once Seamus has stretched his legs and done his business. Rather than trotting a brisk mile or two, a lot of the time we (ahem, I) ended up making a beeline to the nearest appropriate spot and then turning back like Eeyore. Seamus didn’t complain but he didn’t need to. My guilt prodded me sharply – you know he’d love to do more! and of course, anything for my dog, so in the later months of last year, I made it a point to stop working before I hit the mental wall and take him for longer and better walks. It’s gone well enough that I’ve made it a part of my personal goals this year to carry on and do a bit more training.
That was well and good but both PiC and I were still feeling the flobs.
Once LB was holding hir head up easily, we created the Little Workout Routine. Give it a try with yours, so long as you’re careful and don’t hold me responsible for hurting yourself! Need a baby? Borrow a baby! (I have one right here. Seriously, borrow hir. Please.)
Disclaimer: Know yourself, know your baby. My child thinks all of these are hilarious but yours may not. If your child does think it’s hilarious, be forewarned, you might pull something because the laughing is contagious. My child is also more wriggly than a kitten, so if that’s your baby, this could result in injury. Be careful!
ARMS!
Little-lifts: Brace our feet about two feet apart, lift LB under the armpits and reach for the ceiling. Bonus points if you can do this smoothly and toss hir up in the air without straining something. Repeat until your arms like cooked spaghetti noodles and the baby can’t catch hir breath from giggling.
ARMS + CORE!
Little-bell: Pick LB up under the armpits and holding hir straight out in front of you, do a deep knee lunge forward. Keep hir steady, even if ze is giggling and kicking hir legs, with a tight core. For the ambitious, add in a baby-curl: smoothly lower the baby toward the ground as if ze was a hand weight, curl hir back up again. Repeat until the dog looks at you disapprovingly for “dropping” his human sibling. (This will take longer and longer until he no longer cares so probably stop after a few sets.)
LEGS + CORE!
Little-legs: when ze is big enough to hold on (kinda), sit down on a chair or stool where your knees are bent at a 90 degree angle but your feet remain flat on the ground. Put the baby on your lower legs, probably hold onto their arms just in case if their grip is as bad as LB’s, then lift your legs up, straightening them out. This is a massive upper leg and core workout. I go to jelly in about ten lifts.
LEGS + ARMS + CORE!
Little-lunges: Pick LB up under the armpits and holding hir straight out in front of you, do a deep knee lunge forward. Keep hir steady, even if ze is giggling and kicking hir legs, with a tight core. For the more ambitious, add in a turn and baby-dip: turn your torso to the right or left, still maintaining the lunge position with the baby still extended, dip the baby down to about waist level and then bring hir up again smoothly. Repeat on alternating sides, until you’ve gone across the room or collapse. Tuck baby close to your baby as you collapse into a ball, protecting the hapless but usually cackling infant.
Enjoy? Those of you with older ones, is the toddler and child exercise routine half as fun or do we go back to doing normal adulty exercise?
March 16, 2016
The Gymnast
LB confidently climbs onto and off of furniture now, safely, and faceplanting only rarely. Except that one time onto concrete. Oops. That was sad. Ze pivots on hir face a lot. All in service of a greater cause: climbing onto furniture and making a grab for the remotes, the books, and the tissue box. Oh lordy the tissue box is the BEST. 5 seconds of silence means ze made it and is pulling fistfuls of tissues out, shaking them on the floor, taking an experimental bite out of one or the other handful. If you time it right, ze will turn and stick hir be-tissued tongue out for you to scrape out the latest indiscretion.
We <3 books
We’re constantly reading to LB, several books a day, and ze normally “listens” while cruising for the latest bruising. These days, the listening is active and participatory. Ze wants to help turn pages, really looks at the pictures, sometimes touching them, sometimes just urging us to turn pages faster. A lot of the time ze will shut the book on my hands just to be able to open it up again. Ow.
Lapbaby, lapbaby, where are you?
Today, ze picked hir plushie, pivoted, and plopped hirself into my lap! This is a new thing. Since the day ze discovered self-locomotion, we haven’t been able to get the kid to sit still. We suspect this is a by-product of fighting for attention at daycare.
They’re decently staffed, but the kids there compete for attention as kids do. When a kid crawls toward an adult, it’s a cue for the rest of them to converge on that adult. PiC said it looked like being pursued by a tiny mob of tiny zombies.
Big Brother
Ze still isn’t cuddly with us but is trying to form an alliance of affection with Seamus. When he sniffs hir face, ze leans in with an open mouth to lay a kiss on his nose. He never lets hir land the kiss, deftly dodging like a submarine dodging a calf and thus thwarted, ze will crawl to his back and lay hir face on it instead.
Independence and (un)coordination
We haven’t lost an eye to fork stabbing yet but it’s not for lack of flailing. Ze’s use of spoons and forks involves much banging on the tray, excited waving in the air, and holding both ends of the utensil while biting down on the middle. Most attempts result in half the food on the ground and half down hir front. Never mind, ze will carefully place bits of food on the utensil and try to steer it into hir mouth, oftentimes flipping the fully loaded spoon face down and getting absolutely nothing to each. That’s alright, ze carries on with determination.
The clean-up crew knows to (literally) shake hir down for food scraps after a meal.
Our Baby Pestilence, ye bringer of disease
We had some of our worst sick days yet. So many middle of the night wake ups and so many pitiful little sobs. We tended to hir and cuddled hir as best we could, sleep-fuddled and clumsy, but most of the Motrin ended up inside hir, at least. (Thanks, daycare.)
Pirate-raccoon-kitten
Most small things are unsafe around hir. Everything goes into the mouth: hair clips, binder clips, small toys. Hair ties on my wrist are pulled right off, gets clamped between hir teeth as ze pounces for a water source like a pirate of old, cultass clenched in mouth, there to … wash the object?
Yep.
Have shiny object? It will be stolen and washed for you. Possibly returned, but only after a thorough wash.
Some of our favorite things
Bright & Early Board Books: These are great. LB loves to read AND chew on them, win win.
It’s not getting a ton of use specifically as a walker, but both LB and Seamus rock out to this learning walker.
We have some great hand me down alphabet toys that LB likes to chew while we decide what “B” stands for. This combines two of LB’s favorite things: magnets and letters!
March 2, 2016
Over lunch, a friend asked me if we do “Good cop, bad cop” with LB and for the life of me, I couldn’t wrap my brain around the idea. Ze is one year old. Is there a point to doing a good cop / bad cop routine? For 3 minutes, I stared at her, silently pondering what that would look like for an infant.
Besides, I’m no one-note mama. I am all the cops. Sometimes the good cop, mostly the bad cop, always the tickling cop.
I’ve made some first year remarks already but as I said then, there’s a lot about parenting that you just don’t viscerally get from a babysitting or professional aunt/uncle role until you’re there in the thick of it and there are no returns.
Experience has changed my viewpoint on some, not at all on others. It’s been a lot of “ohhhh that’s what that looks like,” or “what, exactly, is happening right now?”
Discipline
Pre-kids: My sibling’s the Exhibit A of The Bad Seed or a cautionary tale for the ages. It’s hard to know which.
It’s a Pyrrhic victory to hear your parent admit that everything you’d warned them would happen if they wouldn’t listen to you did happen, after they wouldn’t listen to you. I don’t know, can’t know, if we’d still have the same end result had they listened to me, but we know it all went to hell when they didn’t.
Post-kid: LB first heard “NO” at four months and hasn’t stopped hearing it since. Ze still doesn’t care what no means but soon enough ze will understand how to use language and I want hir to know there are times that are “yes”, and times that are “no”, and NO MEANS NO. From us, from anyone else, from hir.
Ze may act clueless or disregard the first admonitions but repetition is our friend here. When we’re consistent, we see the results of that efforts months later.
We don’t enforce *discipline* (punishment) specifically at this age, ze is too young, but we enforce the boundary of No especially when it comes to hurting others (*caveat: Unless they hurt or intend to hurt you, in those cases, gut ’em), or hurting hirself.
Responsibility
As in, having it. And then teaching it.
Pre-kids: This felt like an anchor around my everything. I don’t know how to motivate a kid to care about something that’s not a fun thing. From early on, I’ve always been the intrinsically motivated kid, competing against myself, but I’m necessarily an extrinsic element to LB so how do we foster that intrinsic drive? We cheer ze on for trying things, even if ze falls down or fails a lot, because we want hir to keep trying. And ze does. But how do we avoid turning hir personal motivation into a praise-seeking situation?
Post-kid: The responsibility is still daunting. I still don’t know how we’ll teach hir everything we hope to. But I have to hope that talking to hir, honestly and carefully, and demonstrating the desirable behaviors will have an impact. Maybe I was lucky to have been the passive kid I was; Mom and Dad always seemed pretty reasonable, I never wanted to rebel even if their rules chafed a little, and by the teen years, I assumed that acting like an adult would mean they’d treat me like one, so I did, and they did. For the most part.
We have to shape LB so that ze is prepared to succeed in a world we probably won’t understand in 20 years, being the outdated geezers that we are. We have to guide hir to build character, to have compassion, to be money savvy, to work harder and smarter than those around hir. I’m not sure how we do that. And in this world today that’s full of bile and anger and horrible people, how do we protect hir? Every single day I read another horrifying story about how someone abused, killed, and hurt their spouse, child, boy/girlfriend, complete stranger that looked at them wrong or was in the wrong place at the wrong time. We can’t wrap hir up in bubble wrap forever but it’s a scary damn world out there.
I don’t have any of the answers. To some degree, you can do it all “right” and still lose your child to whatever’s out there. But today, right here and now, I’m ignoring those what-ifs and soaking up the baby goodness and trying to get it right one day at a time.
Love
Pre-kids: Everyone says “it’s totally worth it” but it always sounds like they’re trying to rationalize the choice to have kids when it was prefaced by a story of how frustrated or annoyed they are by the kid. Which I’m sure all our parents felt at one point or another.
Post-kid: I absolutely adore this kid. Even when ze is difficult or confusing or frustrating. It didn’t happen the second ze was born like it does for some people. We needed time. I needed time to heal. I will never forget my fear and despair in Months 2-3. We needed time to get to know each other. Ze needed time to be more than a baguette.
Right now, it’s easy for me to feel both love and frustration at the same time and roll my eyes at weird infantile things like licking the dog or having a meltdown over having hir ankle grabbed as ze tips over the edge: “You won’t let me sustain a concussion waaahhhh!”
It’s interesting that one of my oldest friends knew bonding could take some time but didn’t tell me until I was past the 4th trimester. A mark of how well she knows me, and respects boundaries, that she wasn’t going to dictate to me what my life experience was going to be like some people do with their “wait until you … !”
So far, it’s hard work and it’ll only get harder. I think we can make the call in 30 years whether we did a good job and if it was all worth it because it’s way too soon to tell but right here and now, I’m just glad we took the chance and aren’t regretting it.