A Decade of Months…A Quick Post

Alexander,

I think that your ten-month letter (or missive, as my father refers to them), will be shorter than most because I just posted your nine and ¾ month letter in my vain attempts to get current again with your blog. So, not a terrible lot to report. This is not to say that you’re not still growing and achieving, but really, how much can a baby do in two weeks?

Well…

You have figured out how to pull yourself up. The first time was on the Fourth of July, and since you have figured out how to use your Dinosaur and the coffee table to pull yourself up on the family room floor. Generally, this is to reach something that your father has placed on the edge of the table to entice you, something that you’re not usually allowed to play with. Remote control, Blackberry, cordless phone. Anything with buttons that you can manage to pick up generally makes you pretty excited these days.


You are also suffering through your second ear infection, this one a bit of a doosy, although suffering for you means that you smile maybe 20 times in an hour versus your usual 60. We had you at the pediatrician’s office on Thursday, where, even with a temperature of 102.4 and an ugly left ear, you were the perfect charmer. One of the medical students joined us for your appointment and you flirted with her for the entire visit. I am fairly certain that she thought we had drugged you, so amazed was she at your general happy demeanor in the face of likely ear pain and fever. It took me until this morning to be able to confirm the ear infection, two to three restless nights, new tooth pattern; upon inspection of your mouth this morning (at 5:45), I found your second tooth peaking out next to your first on the bottom. Two teeth…you are ready for your first hamburger.


Things at Play and Learn are starting to settle into a new routine for you, now that you have graduated to the older infant room. You are getting to know your new teachers and thus far seem to be enjoying the new space and new faces. Many of the babies in this room are already walking and while initially, I was concerned about you being developmentally ready for this room, I think that being around babies who are a little more advanced than you is speeding your development along. I’ve noticed you becoming more comfortable being up on your knees, and although this has not translated into a “belly off the floor” crawl yet (and likely never will, as neither me nor your father crawled this way), you are spending more time there and this has been contributing to your new pulling up skill.

This room has more toys that are stimulating these skills – the activity tables have caught your attention and when I dropped you off one day last week, you were becoming increasingly interested in one as I was getting ready to leave. I stood in the doorway, trying to get your attention, and you glanced up for a split second and shot me one of your quintessential Alex looks. As if to say, “okay already, Mom. We’ve said goodbye, so you don’t need to be checking on me because I’m fine…so uncool.” Next thing I know, you’ll be asking me to drop you off around the block so you can walk yourself into Play and Learn in the mornings.



Your dad and I are generally in agreement that the last ten months, while confusing, exhausting and generally crazy, have been some of the best we’ve ever experienced together. All because of you, and your little crooked smile and those blue eyes that could sink a ship. We’re simultaneously in shock and awe at how quickly the time is flying, that your first birthday is looming around a two-month corner, and looking forward to what the future with you brings.


I love you the little 10-month you,
Mommy

A Fourth, of July and a First, of Sorts

We chilled out in Havertown this Fourth of July. Our town hosts a parade around the neighborhood, and then an afternoon carnival with firetruck rides, food, and merriment.

We ducked out early after the parade to enjoy a visit with Aunt Ellie and Uncle Mick, but still enjoyed our first official Fourth of July at home. Next year we'll get a little more creative with our stroller decorations...


Mr. Skeptical getting ready for the parade. Notice how well the stroller coordinates with his holiday outfit. We totally planned that.








Alex and his Daddy having an important debate about neighborhood parades.




Alex is paying no attention to the camera because he is checking out two really cute little girls (who are two of triplets) who live in our neighborhood.




Skip, patriotic. Alex, Dr. Evil.













It is completely frightening to me how much Alex looks like Jack Nicholson in this photo. I keep thinking I'm hearing an eerie voice saying, "All work and no play make Jack a dull boy..." REDRUM REDRUM!








My cute boy returns. No Nicholson effect.









Conducting an imaginary orchestra with Great Aunt Ellie and Great Uncle Mick looking on.








Watch out, Mick. You're about to be slimed.







Later in the afternoon, Alex figured out how to pull himself up to standing to reach...a plastic water bottle. We have thousands of dollars worth of toys in this house and the water bottle was what provided the critical motivation for this milestone. Awesome.


So very pleased with himself, and simultaneously wondering where to go from here.

Our Little Scholar

Play and Learn Takes "School Photos" Every Season

Here is Alex's Summer Solo Portrait...notice the suspicion in his eyes. My guess is the photographer had a toy of unknown origin.


















And, here is a crop of Alex in his new class photo. Again with the extreme suspicion. This could likely be attributed to the photographer, or just as easily to the fact that this was his first day in his new classroom. My bet is on the photographer, however because all of the kids look kind of apprehensive.

Nine Months…Nine months, three weeks…Whoah.

Alexander,

A tooth is born. Much like Mount Vesuvius erupted spilling molten hot lava everywhere, you have cut (finally) your first tooth, making your face a complete mess of drool and snot. Well, maybe it wasn't of the same sort of devastation as Mt. Vesuvius... You remain adorable, even through the crustiness. Along with your new tooth, you are battling a fancy new ear infection, your first, which was discovered last week at your 9-month well baby visit, when Dr. McIntosh checked your ears and declared your left, “a little scary.” This was my first, official, “bad mommy” moment with the pediatrician, where I stumbled over myself for five minutes to quickly educate her to your lack of symptoms that would indicate an infection of any kind – no fever, no fussiness, general happiness of spirit, etc.

This moment was quickly followed by another I would like to forget. When Dr. Mc asked about your sleeping, I shared that we were still rocking you to sleep at night with your bottle, a practice that she strongly suggested we stop in May when she saw you for conjunctivitis. I can’t begin to describe how the disapproving eyes of the pediatrician make me feel (fortunately, you are completely immune to this, so pardon this paragraph being all about Mommy here). That, coupled with a comment about her concerns about babies who can’t self-soothe were about to put me over the edge because here you are, in all of your glorious happiness, talking up a blue streak and acting like a perfect angel.

Your sleeping through the night has vastly improved, we believe due to the successful introduction of tooth number 1, although we’re holding our breath for when tooth numbers 2 through 24 show their ugly faces. Still, after three or four days of stewing over Dr. Mc’s comments about your bedtime routine, and two nights in a row where you clearly thought that bedtime was playtime taking over 90 minutes to settle down and go to sleep, we decided to start the process of teaching you how to put yourself to sleep at night. This is painful at best, and really depressing at worst. So far, you’ve maxed out on the screaming at about 45 minutes on night number two, which is good because that’s the threshold where I need to be physically restrained from going to comfort you (which all of the books, through overt scare tactics, caution against), or where I am about to throw myself off the roof. While I realize that it will be good for you (and for us) when you learn to fall asleep unassisted, I still can’t help having difficulty managing with how sad it makes me to listen to you cry, and how much this goes against every mothering instinct I have.

The books, again not so subtly, tell me that this protest crying is no different than how you will likely fight with me about wearing a bike helmet, or how you may become really steamed when your father and I try to dress you before an outing, or how you may be inclined to get angry at me when I take sharp objects away from you to prevent your hurting yourself. How could I then, as a good mother, feel any differently about the protest crying you exhibit when trying to fall asleep? I wouldn’t let you play with scissors or run around naked outside, so, why on earth would I perpetuate a bedtime routine that does not have you self-soothing to sleep?


So, this is what we’re doing for now, hoping for the best as we try to figure this one out. My hope is that in a few more nights you’ll have the hang of it, and not see your crib as the most terrible place on earth, however I find this hope dubious when just the sensation of being lowered into it makes you wail as if we’re pulling your fingers off (and no, I have not actually tried to pull your fingers off so I don’t know what you would sound like if I did). Amazingly, this is really the only time of the day that you cry, so we absolutely have nothing to complain about. You remain, by day, a happy, mellow, into everything and completely flirty little boy, which helps. At least this experience of “learning to self soothe” does not appear to be harming you in any way.

You have reached a major milestone at Play and Learn, your graduation from the young infants room, Jumping Joeys, into the older infants room, the name of which escapes me at the moment, likely because I’m still in denial. Last week, your daddy and I both picked you up on Friday afternoon to commemorate your last day in Jumping Joey’s. We took photos, gave your teachers presents, and generally celebrated this achievement in your growing up. I remarked to Miss Tanya that if I’m this sentimental with this small change, how on earth will I get through major events in your life like your starting kindergarten, your high school graduation, taking you to college for the first time, if that ends up being your bag, your wedding, if you get married someday. It’s really hard for met to adjust to the idea that Tanya will not be caring for you every day. She has been a constant since you started at Play and Learn (Miss Valerie is new, having started in the spring), and has always had a special bond with you. From the first day we visited Play and Learn to begin your transition there, she has never failed to make you smile, and never failed to make me feel very comfortable with the care you’re receiving there. I have met your new teachers and they are lovely, but there will be a part of me for a long time that is sad about Miss Tanya not seeing you every day.

This is, officially, the All About Mommy post.

One thing that was really cute about your “graduation,” was the collection of your artwork that Miss Tanya and Valerie presented us with on Friday. They had created a collage of all of your projects from January, which is something we’ll certainly be saving to embarrass you with when your first date comes for a visit. I can see it now…”look at what a talent my son was at 6 months! His footprints show such potential for artistic greatness in his later life.” I think it’s safe to assume that you will need to give your dates fair warning of your crazy mother because otherwise, I’m afraid I’ll have them running for the hills.

Father’s Day this year had us spending the weekend at the beach, where you swam in a way too cold pool and charmed the pants off of your grandparents for three days. You also discovered Chili the dog, and the funniest thing was watching you follow that dog around the house. Whenever you got within six inches of her, she would sigh as if to say that she was only humoring us, and she would walk clear across the room. Undeterred, you would turn around and follow her. This proved to be a great way to occupy you. For whatever reason, you abandoned your usual 20-minute limit with any toy or activity, and followed her around on the floor for considerably longer.

You attended your first birthday party this month, for Ishaan, a boy in your daycare class. The party was a Gymboree party, complete with cheesy Gymboree songs, bubbles and parachute time, all of which we both loved! I remarked to your daddy how fun it was to watch you play with all of the other babies and with all of the fun equipment at Gymboree. So often, we are actively involved in playing with you, it was nice to just let you go and watch you figure things out on your own.

On a final note, I have loved watching you over the past few weeks learn how to feed yourself finger foods. Having mastered infant and child CPR, your father and I felt it was time to start you on the basics. You have mastered Puffs and we’re planning some other fun gastronomic experiences for you involving mashed avocado and way too cooked carrots very soon. Introducing new foods to you and watching you establish your own clear preferences is so exciting to me. As cooking and learning more about food continue to become established as my hobbies of choice, I am so happy that you’re so into trying new things and seem to like a broad variety of foods so far. I am so hoping that this continues and can be something we share, as you get older.

I love you, even if all you’ll eat are chicken fingers when you’re two,
Mommy

Easter Memories

I'm just getting around to posting photos from Alexander's first Easter. Enjoy!

Our lame attempt at a family portrait...


Alex's skepticism about Halloween transcends to the Easter Bunny, it appears.

Seven…EIGHT…Holy Cow! Time is FLYING!

Alexander,

Happy seventh, AND eighth months. I was intending to turn over a new leaf after your fourth and fifth month combined update. “What kind of mother am I that I can’t sit down once a month and write a simple letter to my growing son about his milestones and achievements?” A busy, working, slightly* sleep deprived mother, that’s the kind. In these last two months, you officially started moving around, figured out how to be lazy, learned to sit on your own AND forgot how to sleep through the night. That’s right. You forgot. The skill, or instinct, or whatever it is that had you sleeping all night at 5 weeks just went away. This will forever teach me for bragging at Gymboree about your wonderful sleep habits when you were three months old. This is my comeuppance for seeing overly tired children in supermarkets and thinking (only slightly mischievously) that that wouldn’t be us in a few months because my baby is such a fine sleeper, and can certainly get through the night without a feeding, or a cuddle, thank you very much. He SELF soothes. He’s just that secure. Somewhere between five and six months your amazing sleeping ability gradually went away.

At first we thought it was another growth spurt, because you had experienced those before. So, we fed you. At first it was once, and on the rare case, twice a night. Then you would sleep for three or four nights uninterrupted, and start waking up again.


And the protests. My god, the protests. Your wakeup protests have rapidly escalated from your usual, “Hey, it’s me…I’m hungry/tired/bored/wet/otherwise…so when you have a brief moment to attend to me great, and in the meantime, I’ll be playing with my foot, so no worries here because I’m a self soother,” to “HEY – GET IN HERE – MY LEFT FOOT HAS MOST DEFINITELY BEEN SEVERED AT THE ANKLE AND THERE IS A GIANT PURPLE ELEPHANT HOPPING ON ONE FOOT AROUND MY ROOM THREATENING TO POUNCE ON ME.” On more than one occasion over the last two months your father* or I has awoken, and lunged out of bed and in the general direction of your room, usually stubbing a toe and tripping over a pair of my shoes that end up in the path to reach your bedside only to have you look up from your rant and give us one of your amazingly cute (at normal waking hours) toothless grins. Despite the smiles, we spent about two weeks saying to each other things like, “Our baby doesn’t cry like this in the middle of the night. There must be something wrong.” All stupid and new-parent crazy.


Our initial concerns were legitimate, to some degree. We had a hunch that you were teething. The timing was right, the nighttime wake ups a common indicator, and, of course, there was enough drool to sink a ship. Two months in, attempts at using Tylenol and Baby Motrin, and no teeth later, and we’re beginning to question the validity of the teething theory for now, although we know those days are fast approaching.

Then, we noticed that the waking became a response to rolling over and ending up on your belly. Why oh why, dear child, can’t you figure out that rolling over to your side or back at night is the same as rolling over during the day. During the day, you would roll from here to Baltimore if we let you; you are such a rolling machine. At night, it seems that the ability to roll takes a short pleasure cruise. Perhaps your rolling ability needs a break from all of the rolling you accomplish when the sun is up. Really, and truthfully, it is one of my favorite things lately to watch you spy a toy you want on the other side of your play mat (which is considerably longer than you are) and decide that you’re going to roll to get it. Your face changes from your normal baby happy face to this look of complete focus and determination. You pucker your lips and stick the tip of your tongue through them, screw up your nose and squint a bit. Then you start to roll, and roll, and roll until you can reach whatever it is you want.

You’ve also learned how to be lazy, and I think this is even funnier to me than the rolling, as I see bits of myself in your personality at times like this. Lately if you’re lying on a blanket on the floor and you notice something in the distance that is just out of reach, instead of expending energy to roll yourself to it, you pull your blanket towards you to bring it closer, then with a giant stretch you get it. No rolling required. My favorite part of these moments is the look on your face when you’ve successfully retrieved what you want. It’s less a look of satisfaction, and more a smirk, like in your mind you’re thinking about how much smarter you are than the rest of us.

Your unique and wonderful personality has continued to make you a hit at Play and Learn. Over April and May, Daddy was home more than we had originally expected, thus, you were at daycare much less than was becoming normal. Your teachers were always disappointed when we would call you out, and genuinely so happy to see you when you would return. And finally, I realized that your experiences there are good ones, and really important for you developmentally when one morning, I took you there after you had been away for a few days. When I brought you into the room, one of the babies immediately crawled over to where you were sitting and began waving her arms around wildly, with this enormous smile on her face, a smile that you echoed completely. She then reached out and patted your hand, and you patted her head. These babies have become your friends, and it makes me so happy to think that they miss you when you’re not there and are happy to see you when you return.

Now, if we could only figure out how to help you sleep 10-12 hours a night again, we’ll all be in good shape.

I love you, even at 3:00 in the morning*,
Mommy


* It should be noted that Skip wakes up with Alex about 99.9% of the time…because he is just that good, and I am fully aware that I do not deserve him. He also cooks and cleans. Let the barfing begin.