We were wrong. My baby ate his first cheeseburger today.
Aug 16, 2008
Five Guys
Alex, Skip and I stopped at Five Guys for lunch today, fully expecting that we would buy Alexander a cheeseburger which he would refuse, given that they contain something other than carbohydrates.
We were wrong. My baby ate his first cheeseburger today.
We were wrong. My baby ate his first cheeseburger today.
Aug 12, 2008
One from Two (or 23 Months)
Alexander,
Today is your 23rd month-day, and I actually remembered it today just as I was concluding a rather boring meeting, about 10 minutes prior to the time of day you were born. I was sitting in a room full of people, and I just remarked to no one in particular, "it's my son's 23rd month-day." It was yet another example of how I seem to have no inner monologue when it comes to you lately, much to the chagrin and dismay I expect, of my colleagues. They'll just have to deal - you're far more exciting to discuss than business cases, testing methodologies, or aligning our technology strategy with our corporate objectives. Blech.
Recently you've fallen head over heels for Thomas the Tank Engine. Thomas is on your mind morning, noon and night. You wake up asking for him, and the second I buckle you into your carseat in the afternoon to return home, you start talking about playing with the "Thomas trains, Mommy!." Tonight, I suggested we head up to the park before dinner as the evenings have been beautifully non-humid lately, and you remarked, "no, Mommy. Thomas trains." I never thought that something would come along that would take priority over the "SWINGS" but there you go. Such is life with a near-two year old.
I have to add here that Thomas is the greatest gift to parents, and if I could give a kiss to the creator of Thomas, I would, gladly. On Sunday, you spent 180 minutes (consecutively) playing with your new trains, track and Sir Topham Hatt. Daddy and I were amazed. We would join the fun for a while, then sit back and watch you discover new things to do with your new favorite things. Only once did we have to correct you for riding Thomas over the walls (and yes, those lines do come off with some elbow grease). Thomas might actually mean that I can cook a real meal for you when your Dad isn't here, in contrast to throwing together whatever is in the fridge that will be ready in less than 5 minutes, which has been your attention span of late with other things.
I had a moment tonight with you that made me want to sit down and write this as quickly as possible before the thoughts flew out of my head. It was one of those moments that I longed for desperately in the early days after you joined us, one of those moments when you know that the planets did indeed align correctly and parenthood really can be the magical wonderful thing that everyone says it is. I have to admit, that for the bulk of your first year of life, I actively doubted that I would ever feel like that. I was too busy worrying about trying to be the best mommy, too obsessed with worry over your diet, sleeping, pooping, your head, and any other thing that I chose to obsess over that week.
When you passed your first birthday, things shifted somewhat for me and I was able to see more of the forest for the trees. I became able to stop and take a breath and CHOOSE what to worry about. Many reading this will think that was no big deal, but for me it meant the absolute difference between sanity and a downward spiral of terrible horrible craziness.
So, getting back to tonight, we were in the midst of your bedtime ritual, and you were begging for a fourth book, and I was busy explaining to you that three is the bedtime limit, so you could not have another book, no thank you very much. You were fairly persistent about the book thing and started repeating "this, this, this," over and over which is what you do when you want something and are tired. So I hugged you and lifted you up to my shoulder to snuggle in the hope that you would abandon the book pursuit. You rested your head on my shoulder and looked at me and then said, "Blackbird song, Mommy."
What you were asking for was for me to sing you the Beatles song, Blackbird, which I've been singing to you since you were a tiny baby. Often, while I was on maternity leave and looking for things to worry about, I would pace around the house with you in my arms singing Blackbird, and various other songs from the 60s that I remember for whatever reason. Hey Jude was another favorite, along with John Denver's Annie's Song.
So tonight I started singing Blackbird to you, as I have hundreds of nights before, but tonight right around the second line, you joined in and started singing with me. It was every second or third word, but you were clearly singing along with me this song that has become one of our nontraditional lullabies that I probably enjoyed much more than you at first. I can't begin to describe how full my heart felt at that second when I heard your little voice chime in, and how much I realized that no matter what the worry, what the heartache, what crap we went through together in your first year, how much that was all worth it. So there it was - that feeling that everyone said I would have. It just took me nearly two years to get here.
I pray you have a moment like that someday too...And that you don't have to wait as long as I did for it.
I love you, my little Blackbird,
Mommy
Today is your 23rd month-day, and I actually remembered it today just as I was concluding a rather boring meeting, about 10 minutes prior to the time of day you were born. I was sitting in a room full of people, and I just remarked to no one in particular, "it's my son's 23rd month-day." It was yet another example of how I seem to have no inner monologue when it comes to you lately, much to the chagrin and dismay I expect, of my colleagues. They'll just have to deal - you're far more exciting to discuss than business cases, testing methodologies, or aligning our technology strategy with our corporate objectives. Blech.
Recently you've fallen head over heels for Thomas the Tank Engine. Thomas is on your mind morning, noon and night. You wake up asking for him, and the second I buckle you into your carseat in the afternoon to return home, you start talking about playing with the "Thomas trains, Mommy!." Tonight, I suggested we head up to the park before dinner as the evenings have been beautifully non-humid lately, and you remarked, "no, Mommy. Thomas trains." I never thought that something would come along that would take priority over the "SWINGS" but there you go. Such is life with a near-two year old.
I have to add here that Thomas is the greatest gift to parents, and if I could give a kiss to the creator of Thomas, I would, gladly. On Sunday, you spent 180 minutes (consecutively) playing with your new trains, track and Sir Topham Hatt. Daddy and I were amazed. We would join the fun for a while, then sit back and watch you discover new things to do with your new favorite things. Only once did we have to correct you for riding Thomas over the walls (and yes, those lines do come off with some elbow grease). Thomas might actually mean that I can cook a real meal for you when your Dad isn't here, in contrast to throwing together whatever is in the fridge that will be ready in less than 5 minutes, which has been your attention span of late with other things.
I had a moment tonight with you that made me want to sit down and write this as quickly as possible before the thoughts flew out of my head. It was one of those moments that I longed for desperately in the early days after you joined us, one of those moments when you know that the planets did indeed align correctly and parenthood really can be the magical wonderful thing that everyone says it is. I have to admit, that for the bulk of your first year of life, I actively doubted that I would ever feel like that. I was too busy worrying about trying to be the best mommy, too obsessed with worry over your diet, sleeping, pooping, your head, and any other thing that I chose to obsess over that week.
When you passed your first birthday, things shifted somewhat for me and I was able to see more of the forest for the trees. I became able to stop and take a breath and CHOOSE what to worry about. Many reading this will think that was no big deal, but for me it meant the absolute difference between sanity and a downward spiral of terrible horrible craziness.
So, getting back to tonight, we were in the midst of your bedtime ritual, and you were begging for a fourth book, and I was busy explaining to you that three is the bedtime limit, so you could not have another book, no thank you very much. You were fairly persistent about the book thing and started repeating "this, this, this," over and over which is what you do when you want something and are tired. So I hugged you and lifted you up to my shoulder to snuggle in the hope that you would abandon the book pursuit. You rested your head on my shoulder and looked at me and then said, "Blackbird song, Mommy."
What you were asking for was for me to sing you the Beatles song, Blackbird, which I've been singing to you since you were a tiny baby. Often, while I was on maternity leave and looking for things to worry about, I would pace around the house with you in my arms singing Blackbird, and various other songs from the 60s that I remember for whatever reason. Hey Jude was another favorite, along with John Denver's Annie's Song.
So tonight I started singing Blackbird to you, as I have hundreds of nights before, but tonight right around the second line, you joined in and started singing with me. It was every second or third word, but you were clearly singing along with me this song that has become one of our nontraditional lullabies that I probably enjoyed much more than you at first. I can't begin to describe how full my heart felt at that second when I heard your little voice chime in, and how much I realized that no matter what the worry, what the heartache, what crap we went through together in your first year, how much that was all worth it. So there it was - that feeling that everyone said I would have. It just took me nearly two years to get here.
I pray you have a moment like that someday too...And that you don't have to wait as long as I did for it.
I love you, my little Blackbird,
Mommy
Aug 9, 2008
Beachy #2
Skip, Alexander and I spent some time in Ocean City to celebrate the birthdays of Skip, Nanny (Jeanne) and Cappy (Gordon). We had beautiful, albeit hot, weather, and enjoyed a lot of beach and pool time.
Alex preserves his skepticism of the ocean, however has really taken to the pool. He is still talking about swimming with Nicolas and William (his cousins).
Happy Summer!
Alex preserves his skepticism of the ocean, however has really taken to the pool. He is still talking about swimming with Nicolas and William (his cousins).
Happy Summer!
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