I love you more today...

I want to meet the person who made it through the first two years BEFORE the adjective "terrible" came to mind. Personally, I believe I am trying to survive the " I'll show you lady - how about terrorizing, traumatic, testing all before 2" phase. I have said before how we breezed through the first year. Months 12-18 were mildly interesting. I am finding 18-24 months to be incredibly difficult.

One moment, I am confronted with a sweet, docile, toddling, babbling boy who is so in love with the world around him. The next day, I'm furiously googling for a therapist who will take patients who are babies 'cause I am CONVINCED he needs one! Yesterday was a bad day. He came home from Christmas festivities with his dad and his family. I had to get him out of bed well before 7 am, took about a 30 minute nap, and probably had a lot of excitement. By 3pm when we got home, I was left with a volatile child - frustrated with his own exhaustion and unable to control his emotions (not that he has much control of them under normal circumstances). At one point, he was throwing such a screaming tantrum, my neighbors came over to see if I was okay. My neighbor said she was worried from his crying he hurt himself (she knows about our bone disease) but she said when I answered the door - she could tell by the look on my face that HE was fine and I was the one suffering. When he finally went to bed (early, at 6:40pm) I collapsed on the couch, mentally and physically exhausted.

Its hard to let a day like that go, but you have to. You can't wake the next day, pissed at a toddler. You can't begin the day dreading a repeat performance. But its not easy. It seems bizarre that I consciously have to "let it go", but I do. Maybe its because I do this job alone, and no one else is here to bear the brunt of any tantrums or bad days - its always me. After a rough day, I just take a few minutes to be pissy about it, then its done. After a rough day, I always make it a point to find something new to love about him. Today, I had to find two things, because he really drove me crazy yesterday :-)

So, here it is - you screamed until your head nearly exploded and kicked your feet on the floor yesterday - but I love you more today because....

1) You knock on the wall and say "mama...mama..." in the morning when you wake up instead of crying to get out of your crib.

2) When we read together, you always snuggle your little head against mine in the exact same spot.

Love ya peanut!

Blizzard 09

I wish I could say "can't believe its been so long since I posted" but I believe it. I'm not the least bit surprised at myself. Things have sort of been one little tornado after another. Nothing life-altering, just enough to keep me running, then time to catch my breath to only run some more. Still waiting for the tornado that will actually sweep us (condo and all!) off to Oz!

D and I just rode out a different sort of a storm - the DC blizzard of '09! I was so swamped with work, I didn't even know there was going to be flurries, let alone a crippling storm until the morning of! It started around 9pm on Friday, and stopped snowing early Sunday - leaving about 22" of snow behind. We woke up Saturday to near whiteout conditions. After a big breakfast and some playtime, D showed interest in investigating this white stuff. I started shoving him into layers (think Christmas story) and forced upon him the size 2T-5T mittens and hat that completely eclipsed his vision unless I tugged up on the top.

At first, he loved the snow drifts and flakes - this was because we live on the 2nd story of 3 story garden-style building. He was getting the best of both worlds - the blizzard, snow drifts, and a roof. Our steps were treacherous - so I threw our sled down, then carried him down. He walked out into the snow...gave it a few seconds of contemplation, then screamed as if being stabbed by ever little flake. It was pretty funny. He ran for cover, re-evaluated the situation, gathered some courage and went back out to continue his investigation. He was so cute - kept looking at me and yelling "ma! Ma! MA!" pointing around to make sure I was seeing what he was seeing. Then "ma? Ma? MA?!?!" wanting an explanation - a word. I told him again it was "snow", which of course comes out his mouth "no".

He spent a few minutes visiting my neighbors who were out - pointing and yelling "no" in case they needed an explanation of the white stuff. He got pretty irritated when he saw our car buried. "uh oh" "UH OH" I assured him it was okay, and he shuffled off to go back up to the comfort of playing in the snow piles under our roof.

We ventured out to play on Sunday - which was nice for him since the snowfall had stopped, and there was a narrow path on our sidewalk with the snow on each side nearly up to his chest. Armed with his beach bucket and tools, he "helped" dig out our car until he deemed a nap to be the better option while my friend and I finished the chore.

Oh, and if you're wondering how our sledding adventure went - it didn't. I forgot he has been afraid of it since he peed in it a few weeks ago. (we were air drying a little diaper rash!)

6 months and counting

I mentioned early that my friend Gayle (of Oprah and Gayle fame) told me that every other year is a good one with young kids, and you just learn to love them in between. For a few days, I thought I was off the hook! I thought we were on a 6 month rotation - but alas, we are not.

We had about 9 days of AH-MAY-ZING baby behavior. So sweet! So pleasant, so fun! He was starting to say please and thank you and was transitioning so well between playtime, clean up time, time to leave, time to eat... Those days have come to a screeching halt, and I am back to counting the days until he turns two. I swear, I am looking forward to the 'terrible twos' - anything to get me out of the 'my child is a crazed, flesh eating, tantrum throwing, impatient, and self centered' one a half year old phase.

Within the span of three days, he learned "mine". He started saying "no". He started saying "no, mine!" in glorious harmony. He has gotten rougher with his little buddy at daycare, and his tantrums have gotten very physical, very abrupt, angry, and frequent. Today, I felt like a complete and utter failure as a mother. I picked him up from daycare and he flew into a total rage. Nothing helped (distractions, force, tricks, toys...). There was biting, kicking, thrashing, and clinging to the car. If I wasn't on my way BACK to work, I wold have cried my eyes out with him.

Im not sure where we are going wrong. I am consistent. I do not give in to his tantrums (every book says they will lessen if the child doesn't get his way). I also pick my battles. However, the battle to leave daycare is non-negotiable. The battle to not hit or bite me is non-negotiable. I am sick of the 'its a normal phase' crap too. I know that, but it still has to get under control.

So, here I am, getting ready to dive into my three favorite parenting books - "The Everything Guide to Tantrums", "What to Expect, the Toddler Years", and "the complete single parent". I have decided to attack it this time like a teacher ;-) I am making making note cards to laminate. I shall put my parenting tips and tools on paper! I shall carry them with me to study at red lights! And, the next time he terrorizes me at Target, and I can look down at my note cards and remember that leaving him in the display of pack and plays will not, in the long run, be effective.

I think my first note card with address the no sharing issue. The front will read:

Your child is egocentric, self-centered, and impulsive. Congrats - he's developing normally.

The back will list all the techniques for dealing with that (when I figure it out!).

My next card will be my friendly "naughty corner" tips from Supernanny (although, thanks to repetition, I pretty much have that down, and thank goodness its still pretty effective!)

I will continue my cards, and hopefully keep my sanity! I know tomorrow, for at least the first 10 minutes of the day, when in his eyes, I can do no wrong, I will not be an epic failure of a mom.

How to make a toddler stationary

In just a few easy steps, you to can have a child that is essentially glued in place. For this situation, I used a cell phone, however, I believe any 'forbidden' item that can be attached to a wall will work.

1) dangle cell phone in front of child
2) lure him to desired location
3) plug cell phone into the wall
4) allow child to handle forbidden item-watch and enjoy

This photo was taken 4 minutes after he was lured to the chair. This is the longest amount of time he has spent sitting (unrestrained) since learning to walk on his cast. 4 minutes of mommy heaven. Enough time to pee AND wash my hands!!!

Boo boo part 2 (also known as advice from the dairy aisle)

I think my last blog post jinxed my poor sweet baby. He got his cast on Friday and fumbled around for two days, figuring out how to make his little Frankenstein leg work. By Sunday, he agreed to sit and crawl across the ceramic tile and to avoid the marble front of the fireplace all together. I felt a little better when he got that much figured out, but the running around outside still made me edgy - and rightfully so.

10 days into the cast, he tripped and fell. The sitter said he cried a bit, and then wouldn't walk after that. He would stand, but no walking.

Our wonderful sitter was concerned - but she couldn't imagine him breaking a leg while already in a cast. I couldn't believe it either, but, I also doubted that he suddenly decided to be complacent and sit down and play quietly.

After a trip to the ER that night, and then a trip back to his ortho specialist, he was diagnosed with a small fracture in his femur. His below-the-knee cast was cut off, and replaced with a long cast ending at the very top of his thigh. We did get lucky though; our buddy in the cast room hooked us with a waterproof cast without the extra cost. We also got lucky on our way out the door, when the doctor realized he would be on vacation when Daniel was scheduled to get his cast off. After a bit of negotiating, he knocked a week off - yay! Only 3 weeks of peg leg toddler fun!

His new cast has drawn attention, since it is bigger, and since it is red and blue with giant white stars (NOT my choice...the guy who put it on wanted to match the cast to Daniel's outfit). I have been approached by complete strangers every time we have been in the grocery store since he broke his leg.

It always starts off the same....

STRANGER: "oh no! What happen to your baby's leg?"

ME: "he fell down"

STRANGER: "and broke his leg? did he fall off of something?"

ME: "No, actually he has a genetic condition. His bones are more fragile because of defective collagen"

STRANGER "Oh thats too bad! Poor baby! Do you think milk or extra calcium would help?"

Then I'm forced to explain why they're an idiot, when the entire time I WISH I SAID:

ME "My GOD! You have just saved my son and thousands of others from years of suffering. Clearly, NO ONE has thought of that until you just did...amazing, since we're standing in the f'ing dairy aisle. You are a genius. Please take your findings to the OI foundation IMMEDIATELY so we can finally cure this disease. After that, nominate yourself for a Nobel Prize"

I mean, seriously?!?!?!? What part of "genetic defect" made you think cheese and yogurt was the way to go? AND, you really thought dairy was a cure-all, do you think his leg would be broken now?!?!? Today in the store, a teenage boy saved his mother from me spurting out some horribly rude reply. She was going through the usual questions, and right when I thought she was going to say something stupid about milk and calcium, her skater/punk teenage son who had been giving Daniel high fives interupts her and says "dude, that kinda sucks, huh buddy? Guess you should stay off a skateboard when you get bigger". The mom looked mortified, but, I however, enjoyed his completely logical, appropriate, and non-dairy related suggestion. I told the kid he was right, and scooted away before the yogurt lecture could begin!

Sounds like a plan - no skateboarding so things don't suck. I love it!!!

Running with scissors

Running with scissors would be safer than what my child does. My child runs with a broken leg in a cast. He runs with his Frankenstein boot on one foot, and his Nike shock on the other. It drives me crazy! We are only 3 days into this fracture, and my blood pressure is up. Way up.

It seems my son has either re-injured an old boo boo, or he has not been allowing it heal properly. The original break was not casted, because it was so small, it couldn't be seen. So, we played it by ear knowing if he continued to have a problem with it, we could do another xray and would be able to see the new bone growth if it was a break. Daniel did really well, and I assumed he did NOT have a break. After about three weeks of normal behavior, the limp returned! Off we went, back to our fabulous ortho for xrays. The doctor saw the fracture in some state of healing and said it was up to me about casting. Based on his past behavior, I decided to just get it in a cast to give this thing a chance to heal properly.

We picked out a nice 'Carolina Blue' and went with traditional fiberglass (no waterproof this time). He sat there so nicely, watching his leg get bundled up in cotton and cast. It made me sad that he's already accepted this as normal. The minute the last piece of fiberglass is on, he says "done done! down! down!" and he is off. Off and RUNNING. My child is running on a broken leg with a cast that is not even dry. He runs down the hall, peeking in doors (sorry HIPA violations!) and finally gets to the end of the hall, where his doctor is. "Done done!" he says, waving bye bye. That is his way of saying "I prefer not to have to wait for you to come back and check on me. Mom knows the drill, we're leaving". He gives and gets his "high fives", and I get the "we'll bill the copay or catch you next time!" and he drags me out the door.

At home, the real fun begins. Tripping as his feet 'stick' to the carpet. Falling as he regains his balance. Flying head first and biting the dust because his upper body went he faster than his new, heavier, left foot. He heads for the kitchen, and nearly does a split, as we both realize, he has no traction on the tile. I am sweating from chasing him. Repeat this process about 60 times, and that was my weekend :)

He has mastered walking, and almost mastered running. I let him fall today and skin his knee. I felt, badly at first, but he needs to figure out his limits so he can be safe. There was no comprise on the tile floor. He has learned to stop where the carpet ends, to sit down, and crawl across it - and I am proud of him. Now if only he would agree to sit and do puzzles all day....

Visiting "the old guy"...

...and by 'old guy' I mean my Dad. And by the way, am I the only person that has family unwilling to commit to some form of "grandma" and "grandpa"? My mom signs cards "Grandma D'Lux". Daniel doesn't know that many vowels. My dad, although he is the appropriate age to be a grandfather, still thinks he is too young. But he likes being called 'old guy'. Whatev.

My dad is staying at a VA hospital right now. He is (was?) a non-compliant diabetic. He is staying there to complete a work program, have his diet and meds strictly monitored, etc. So far it has been a really good thing for him. For the first time since I can remember, he is taking care of his diabetes appropriately. The wing he stays in is filled mostly with vets who are recovering from substance abuse or who have some sort of manageable mental illness. Some of them are sort of sad, and remind you of people you would find in a less than wonderful nursing home. Some are very haggard, others just a little weathered. Most are 50-60, but a few younger guys passed by.

I had taken the baby there once before to visit, and he was pretty shy and was afraid. But today was a beautiful day so we stayed outside. Several guys were with my dad, anxiously waiting for us to arrive. Apparently they had all heard about him from my dad and were excited to meet us. Suddenly this group of guys who were sitting around chain smoking are now yelling at each other to "put that shit out" around the baby. Guys in wheelchairs and scooters whose eyes were cast down were now coming over to see if the baby would let them get close, or if he was afraid of their wheels. My son chased after them going 'brrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr" and they all laughed into fits of coughing.

They all waited for the baby to warm up to them then went in for their "high fives". One of them who is friendly with my dad insisted on playing ball with him. It was so funny to see them chase after the baby, so worried he'd hit his head on the picnic table, or fall on the sidewalk.

They all had stories to relay about their own grandkids, and they all had their bits of advice: "thats good - give him strawberries instead of all that candy and cookies". "Teach him to hold hands in the street". They all cracked up when the baby would flash his big cheesy grin and giggle at them.

It was a fun afternoon. Hopefully some seeds of respect have been planted in my son, and hopefully he brightened the day for few very important people. We left such an impression, that we were invited back to "jam" on Saturday. I hear there is karaoke involved....

Adventures in a plastic playland

Recently my son attended a birthday party at chic-fil-a. He quickly became completely fixated with the playland. He was a man on a mission - he refused chicken nuggets and cake all to be in the playland. Leaving resulted in the most major tantrum - complete with hitting and biting.

I guess he needs some desensitization therapy. Today we were invited to meet up with my friend Erica and her daughter Eileen (aged 3 and in LOVE with Daniel) at McDonalds. Perfect! Post-work snack for me and a playland desensitization therapy!

Let me set the scene.

90 degrees, high humidity. The sun directly over head, heating up the playland. My kid-already dirty and sweaty from a day full of play, ready to tackle this adventure. Mom-less dirty but also sweaty in a denim skirt and sandals.

The kids are playing nicely and Daniel is crawling up the slide a foot or so and then sliding down on his own. Eileen takes off for the enclosed spiral staircase to the top - Daniel follows. I allow him to go, thinking he will chicken out. Suddenly - Daniel takes off at full speed, my sandal falls off, and I'm losing ground! He gains the edge, gets to the top and goes crazy with glee. He is pounding the Plexiglas and smooshing his face on it. I am hunched over trying to maneuver over some plastic bench at the top. Then it hits me 1) I smell poop, and 2) there is no way in HELL I'm going down that scary twisty slide with a 15 month old with OI on my lap. I wouldn't even do it by myself! I hate twisty slides! But I'm trapped like a gerbil in this plastic fiasco, with the smell of poop gagging me - and since my only company in was 3 and under, I had to be the adult, and retrieve my child. Thank god he found going down the steps as fun as going up. We made it down without a fight. Because he was so hot, I was also able to lure him out of the playland with his sippy cup of ice water without a battle.

For the record, I think this brings the score for the week to baby 6, mommy 1 (but mine was a hard fought battle!).

Every other year...

A friend once told me every other year of childhood is a good year, and you just learn to love them in
the years in between. (Okay, so my 'friend' is Gayle, of "Oprah and Gayle" fame, and when I say "told me" I guess technically I heard it on her XM radio show....but whatev. Oprah and Gayle are my friends, they just doesn't know it yet.)



I agree. I think I am living that. When talking to other parents, I used to hear how lucky I was- "oh he is so good!" and "he's such an easy baby" . And it is true! Looking back on his first year, he was AMAZING - always slept well, transitioned from my room to crib perfectly, weaned himself to a bottle, then to sippy cups, always ate well, always liked to nap, he enjoyed going to daycare, NEVER had stranger anxiety, gave his pacifier up on his own, social beyond his years...

And, now, year two: I get hitting, biting, late walking, little talking, and the most fiercely willful attitude ever. Such a desire for independence accompanied by frustration at mommy-imposed boundaries. I am trying to convince myself that we are just getting our "terrible twos" out of the way early. There is just such a marked difference. I am just thankful that I able to breathe deeply,be consistant, and be firm. I don't feel badly about giving him time out, or saying no, or insisting on some words before he gets things - but it does make for some long and difficult days.

Despite our trials and tribulations of pre-toddler (gosh - everything comes with "pre- " now!) I also have new and wonderful things to love and enjoy: Learning to walk comes with lots of falls and gleeful tumbles into my arms. I also get intentional hugs with little pats over the shoulder. He likes to share his snacks with me and cracks up with when I say "no thank you" and turn my head like he does. We have our own little games that only we play together that make us laugh. He isn't clingy, but I love when he is toddling around and clings to my pant leg. Story time is more fun now - we sit in the corner by his bookshelf and read together before bed, taking turns picking books. He 'car dances' like his mama, and it makes him laugh when I catch his glance in the mirror.

I know we'll survive, and we'll make it to two. Maybe I'll get to brag how easy the 'terrible two's' went, or maybe I won't. I will love him more and more everyday.*






DISCLAIMER*more love will only be given days that I don't get bitten; on days were biting occurs, mom will maintain level of love. Increase in love will occur the following morning when I get hugs from the crib. Increased level of love will be that of the day of the biting plus the day on which the additional love is given, so as not to fall behind due to biting days.

Baby's First Beach

I feel really lucky to have been able to take the baby on vacation this year. I'm also very blessed to have wonderful friends to spend it with. This summer, we headed to my favorite vacation spot EVER - the outer banks of North Carolina. I loved it from the first time I was there with my good friends Danielle and Scott. I have been looking forward to sharing this beautiful place with my son since he was born.

My master plan was to leave home around 630 p.m. so he could sleep the entire 5 hour drive and I could just transport him peacefully into bed when we got there. What actually happened was we left at 9 pm, he slept the whole way, woke up when we got there 2 a.m., and cried and slept restlessly until 6:45 a.m. Oh well. I am happy to report that was the worst part of the whole vacation.

The first time we took him to the ocean, he headed straight in. He splashed in the surf and looked around with his big eyes, taking it all in. He had many ocean adventures (mostly because his Aunt Dani is determined that he be more ocean-brave than me!). One day the tide left a pool on the beach for him to romp around in. He splashed furiously. Occasionally a seashell found its way to his mouth, but he did pretty well. He spent hours playing in the sand, and destroying my pathetic attempts at sand castles.

He seemed to grow so much in a week. He played hard and he slept hard. He ate like a champ at the seafood buffet - crab legs, crab imperial, mahi-mahi - he tried everything we put in front of him. He cut two teeth, and learned that lots of people beside mommy say "no no!". Scott taught him to swing a wiffle ball bat (in the house), and he took his first little step on his own. He developed a love for peanut butter toast and went to his first aquarium. He had his first ride on a ferry. He loved the Christmas Store, and picked out his own ornament (a car, of course). He fed seagulls and yelled "eeee eeee" at them. He started to point at things he likes, and realized that dipping fries in ketchup is yummy. He learned to climb up steps, and to slide of furniture 'feet first'.

It was a wonderful week, with so many memories that I will always cherish.

New Recipe for Mama Pasta

Dinner plans were foiled. I had planned on stopping to pick up some fish to pop in the oven - a favorite of the baby and I. But alas, a mini tantrum on the way out of daycare made me forgot to stop. Once home, I got a crazy craving for soup (in the summer - wierd) All I wanted was some soup from Pei Wei. BUT, as bed time approached and he got fussy, the idea of leaving the house became more and more unattractive.

I set water on to boil, and went on soothing munchkin, knowing once he went down I'd have a mama pasta project on my hands!

1) Boil 1 1/2 servings of pasta (I like rotini)
2) A few minutes before the pasta is done, stir in frozen veggies of your choice ( I did carrots, peas, and handful of soup veggie mix)
3) Drain all
4) Use 1 package of frozen creamed spinach as a sauce (I used Birds Eye and it was AWESOME)
5) Top with a sprinkle of Parmesan cheese

After that I divided the pasta into two servings. I crumbled up a left over turkey burger into one, and added some canned salmon to the other serving for tomorrow!

And now, my belly is full, baby bear is fast asleep, and lunch for tomorrow is DONE!!!

More later!

Not fancy, but still good!

Hey guys,

I want to enter the baby in a photo contest. I know, I know, I'm THAT mom now....Don't judge me ;-) There is $ involved for college and/or gift cards to keep him clothed!

Anyways - check it out, leave a comment. I'll take more pics next week - waiting for a little scratch on his nose to fade before I take pics for the contest!

Fancy Photos!!!!!

Yesterday Daniel and I had photos done with Dorie Howell. I follow her page on blogger, so you should see her link on my blog. It was raining, and he was not being himself, so I was little worried - but - the pics look awesome already!!!!! She has posted two little preview pics, and I'm already soooo happy we did it.

This is our *new* Mother's Day tradition - we will have such happy memories!

http://doriehowell.com/

PS-Dorie was great to work with, so if you're in the DC/NoVa area, I hope you will consider her.

Video from December

Below is a link to my you tube video. Its from Christmas - taken in Pennsylvania at my Aunt Dana (also known as Auntie Mom's) house. Not only is my baby and aunt funny, but so is the funeral-like Christmas carols in the background. Also, be warned my grandmother starts singing "doodley doo" half way through. To this day, we are unsure if Doodley Doo is her original composition, or a real song. Regardless, here it is, creepy Christmas music and monotone singing included for free ;-) This is my family, and I love them!

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=2APo3UDK4DY&feature=channel_page

PS-If I can figure out the technical skills required to get videos of my video camera, I will put up "baby pissing on mommy and floor @ baptism" and every one's favorite - "cannibal baby eats Aunt Dana's face" SCOOOOOTTTTTT help!

My Mother's Day

Happy Mother's Day everyone. I hope your day was as beautiful and blessed as mine.

7 a.m. wake up call. I'm greeted by a baby wearing only a droopy diaper and a grin that melts my heart. Perfect.

9 a.m. We walk outside on a day so gorgeous you feel blessed just to be alive. I get darling little smiles as my son peeks up over his head to make sure I'm still there, pushing his stroller.

10 a.m. (likely the best gift of the day) I get to take a shower and get dressed (make up and all!) in peace and quiet and with out hurry - little man is napping (naked again).

noon- Off to dinner with Joey, Jenny, and her mom Kathy at a great Italian place. I was treated to a Mimosa and a yummy meal. It wasn't very busy, a few families. Daniel was having his run of the place (the ENTIRE place) Everyone, employees included, were sweet to him. As we were getting ready to leave, the manager came over to take the baby's picture for their website. My dreams of him being a childhood star have begun!!!!!! I will post a link when the pic is up - and if anyone knows a legitimate agent - hook me up!

3-4pm Nap. Much needed sleep for mama and baby.

4-5pm Outside romp! There is a huge grassy area by the ponds at my place. Its perfect for letting little man run free and explore without boundaries. He crawled over every inch of grass, pushing his dump truck, examining weeds and trees and rocks.

6:45 p.m. Bedtime routine as usual. Bath, lotion, and stories. We read books for about 15 minutes. Daniel was climbing all over me and pulling himself up to get into my lap. He is such a busy, independent boy that I love when he is tender and clingy. He threw himself over my shoulder, put his head down, reach around and gave me a hug - a real hug! He squeezed me and patted my back. What a perfect ending to a perfect day! I tucked him to bed, with chunky monkey and some milk, and lots of kisses.

So sweet

From the start, I knew today was going to go one of two ways. I knew I would survive, or it would be ugly and I would ended up sweaty, with another win for the kid. I didn't imagine it would be wonderful - but I guess that is what motherhood is about (in addition to poop, slobber, and toys). I had rehearsal tonight from 5-630 pm (baby's prime fussy-time), and had to take the baby.

The morning began as usual, until I walked in to his room to a stench that gagged me. I looked around for an exploded toilet or dead animal. Then I saw the culprit; the source of the gut-wrenching stench - my own child. He did what I call "shitting up the back"-which is exactly it sounds like. It is when the diaper cannot contain and the poop comes out the diaper, and up the child's back. In this case, the poop was up to his shoulder blades. GROSS. The only solution is to cut their clothes off and dump them in the bathtub. Not only was this gross, but I took it as an omen to how my day would go.

I packed baby bear's bag with lots of tummy ache goodies - toast, pedialite, fruit, and extra kisses - and took him to his sitter's. The day went fine for him, and I picked up a dopey, sleepy, and slightly cranky baby just in time to toss him in the car, and turn around to get back to school for rehearsal. I had the pack n play and dreams of him being content in it. I stopped and got him some chicken nuggets and milk (cause I forgot food for him!) We got to school and the all kids fussed over him and his face lit up! I set up the pack 'n play, tossed him in, threw in some chicken nuggets - and TA - DA!!!! He was okay! He was actually pretty happy! He fussed some times, and I let him out, afraid he would terrorize the kids, pull a timpani on his head, or electrocute himself, but he didn't! It was amazing! He just crawled up the podium and chewed on a pen, pretending to conduct with me. It was pretty cute, and he was just so damn good, I couldn't believe it! For an hour and a half!?!?! He was content without a single toy, book, or anything. I don't understand, and that's fine. I just hope it wasn't the crack in the chicken nuggets.

All the world's a (my?) stage...

I'm not beyond embarrassing myself for the amusement of others. I'm not the family comedian, but, I do love cracking people up on occasion - I just never had the desire to crack up dozens of people in the grocery store on a Monday :(

My newest 'resolution' is to plan a little more - primarily meals. The baby is eating 3 solid meals and snacks, so I should too. I'm also sick and tired of feeding little man, putting him to bed, and then looking around the kitchen famished and settling for cereal. I also don't like relying on those prepackaged toddler meals for the baby. Looking at my schedule, the only way ANYBODY in my house was eating was if I went shopping today. I had a list, my tennis shoes on, and was ready to run through. (Daniel does not do well between 4:30-6:00 pm)

We barely made it to the third aisle when he started twisting and fussing and yelling. The store was busy, and no one seemed to enjoy the added noise. I tried cookies and toys. He tried throwing them. Then my phone rang (Beyonce is my ring tone) and the baby got happy.

I guess that was my solution. So, I danced my way down the aisles (aisle 3 through 11) singing Beyonce's "Single Ladies" over and over and over. Eventually he settled for the cheap ring tones that came with the phone and I could tone down my theatrics. People were staring a little (ok, a lot - and not that kind of stare and smile that says "oh how cute"), but at least my baby bear was content. Another mom had been following me for a bit I guess - she stopped to tell me how cute Daniel's dancing was and that mine wasn't bad either. Her kid was content with a stupid rattle and some overpriced yogurt melts. Whatever, my kid's got rhythm and a love for Beyonce - and half the town knows it now!

Dedicated to Aunt Dana - cause she showed me the art of the cell phone ring tone dance and SHE IS the family comedian ;-)

Tie Game Baby

Yesterday was a hard day. It hasn't been the best week, and yesterday was just exhausting. He has missed one of his naps, and was pretty irritated when I got home. Why I thought today was the day to work on weaning of that bedtime bottle, I'll never know.

It seems that nothing infuriates my child more than me saying "no" and moving him away from said "no no" item/behavior. Lack of sleep makes him prone to his fits. He goes nuts - screaming, throwing himself on the ground, and thrashing about wildly. If I make the mistake of holding him, he will scratch and smack me in the face. He has also been known to try and bite too. It sounds horrible, but the fit lasts about 30 seconds. He then goes about his business, seemingly content having expressed himself in such a dramatic fashion.

Yesterday, he did this about 15 times in 2 hours, including in the bathtub, while changing his diaper, while trying to feed him, and while trying to get him dressed for bed. I felt like somebody kidnapped my angel and left me his demon twin, and I wanted my kid back. Things had really gotten bad when I was trying to him into his PJ's. He was thrashing about naked - screaming until he gagged himself. I just sat on the ground with him and started to cry. I don't know why I expected empathy from a one year old. I couldn't really have thought he'd crawl over, pat me on the back, and settle down? He did however, stop going nuts - but only to laugh at me. Awesome.

I guess this where you'd expect me to stop crying and laugh with him, and everyone goes to bed happy. Wrong. I tried to grab him in his moment of happiness to get a diaper on. The tantrum continued, complete with kicking, scratching, and ear piercing screams. Eventually I wrestle him into clothes, and get him into the crib. He threw his sippy cup and his stuffed monkey over the edge of the crib and then cried about it.

I gave up. 2 hours of this was enough. I gave him his bottle. He wrong. I guess we start bottle weaning next time.

PS-I don't know what magic I had tonight, but we had a peaceful bath, pj, and bedtime routine - no bottle...only a sippy cup with a few sips of milk!

Baby's First Boo Boo

I can't believe it has been so long since I have been able to post. My laptop has gone on to computer heaven - that place where there power button does NOTHING and no one thinks the hard drive is recoverable. Oh well, it was old, and led a good life. This post is happening thanks to Scott and Dani and Cancun and my convenient location to the airport ;-) No worries Scott, I only used Firefox and I tuck it away safely each night in its little case, far away from the reach of the cats and/or baby!

For those of you who are close to me, you know that both the baby and I have Type I Osteogenesis Imperfect. That's "OI" for short.... I won't bore you with the details. Basically, our bones are fragile. If you have the time, go to www.oif.org and check out the basic facts. I will continue on assuming you know what I'm talking about!!

From the moment I came to really grasp my pregnancy, I had a good vibe. I was never sick, I had minimal cravings, and I escaped a lot of those pregnant lady things. I always called him "he". In fact, when discussing my unborn child, I used to say things like, "What if HE's a girl?!?!?" I had intuition that he was a boy. I had a feeling I would have a good delivery. I thought I'd have an easy pregnancy. I thought he may beat those 50/50 odds of having OI. I was 3 for 4. In July, x rays confirmed he had OI. It was bittersweet. I was, of course, a little sad knowing the physical pain he may have to endure, the possible surgeries, as well as the mental challenges he would face. But, I also knew that he would develop the incredible strength required to live with this condition. Having OI shaped me in many positive ways - it steered my interest towards music (leading to my career) and fostered my outgoing, "i can do anything" attitude - my patience and empathy. Some positive would come of it for Daniel as well. I also knew it was I bond that only we could share - knowing how it felt to lug around that fiberglass cast in the sweltering July heat and to shrug off a broken toe or two as "not that bad".

As we approached his first birthday, I made follow up appointments with his genetics specialist and his pediatrician, both of whom were excited that we had made it one year without a break. Almost...

When I picked Peanut up from daycare on Thursday, his sitter said he was a little fussy and was sort of chill - not real interested in standing or crawling. I felt heat rise from my feet, I saw spots in my vision, and my ears rang. I knew this was it. I woke him up from his nap, and kissed him all over his head, and tried to get him to stand. He refused. My mind went a mile a minute - looking for which foot he favored, what looked swollen, what didn't. What was tender to the touch, what wasn't. I ran through the day in mind, and realized he didn't stand or craw for me this morning - but I attributed it to it being an early wake up and him being mellow. I was mad. I had missed something. Me, his mother! His wonderful sitter was distraught when I told her I was taking him for x-rays. She couldn't imagine he could be hurt, and not cry all day.

Here's where I have a major lapse in judgement. Luckily, it led only to some laughs after the fact instead of a lawsuit. I went to the doctors...at the mall. Yes, that's right. We have an after hours pediatrics clinic right next the JC Penney's catalog pick-up, and I was dumb enough to think that was a good idea! My friend Jenny met us there with milk and cherrios. I was sitting in the car, dabbing my tears, waiting for them to let us back in. They didn't open for 5 minutes and asked us to wait outside while she opened. The doctor quickly made his way to my bad side as he let us sit there for an hour while he wiped snotty noses and looked a rash. Thats right, Doc, boogers and spots before the kid with a rare genetic condition and possible fracture. He asked if I was "sure" we had OI, cause my eyes really aren't blue. I said I'm sure, and that I was 3rd generation, and if he continued to watch, the more angry I get, the more my eyes turn purple. I also assured him that not only was I sure but so was the genetic specialist that diagnosed him!

Fast forward an hour (where I help with the xrays, and he uses google as part of the exam) and he says nothing looks broken, but said if it got worse to bring him back. He then suggested I try to get into a specialist. He recommended a colleauge (who's contact info he had to Google). He also recommended I lie to them and say his leg is broken to see if I could get in faster because they have a long wait list for new patients.

Fast forward to Monday (first day of Spring Break). My angel is crawling, but will not bear weight. He has gotten better, and is standing, but I don't like the way he dangles his right leg in the air. I got an appointment with his pediatrician who says xrays are a good idea. Xrays confirm that he broke the top part of tibia on his right leg. My poor little man! Our Pediatrician, (who is FABULOUS!) was amazed at how he carried on with his leg. He crawled all over her floor and tried to pull himself up on her pants to get a hug.

None of the local orthopedics wanted to take Daniel - that pesky genetic conditon. The amazing office staff jumped into action, calling through the doctors in my insurance plan, aksing to speak with a doctor before sending us to someone who may not be comfortable with OI patients. They even offered to hold Daniel so I could pee (for the first time in 5 hours!) We ended up going 70 miles from his pediatrician to a really great pediatric orthopedic group-ironically the one the quack doctor had recomended.

He was so good all day - even slept the entire way to the orthopedics! Never crying or fussing - just going about his day playing and enjoying his new favorite snack - cheese. We picked out dinosaurs for his first cast. Daniel played physicians assistant and held the gauze and fiberglass rolls.

I have to give my little man credit - he was kind enough to ease me into this whole thing. Everyone if my family got a chuckle out MY kid going 5 days with a broken leg. EVERYONE had to bring up the splinter incident (circa 1988) where I screamed bloody murder and swore I would die if they dug it out. Whatever - it hurt!

(written 4/8, posted late!)

Pox Be Gone!

Whatever maternal instincts I have are good! He does not, and never had, chicken pox. By late Wednesday, his spots faded almost completely. Oma took him to his pediatrician's office, and got the all clear so he could go back to daycare. I guess the diagnosis is 'mystery spots' likely due to cold virus + fever + sensitive skin. He is fabulous, and not really fussy. He's a little up in the air as to whether or not he's really interested in food, but other than that he is back to his old self.

But you don't smell like chicken OR pox?

Allegedly, my son has chicken pox. I say "allegedly" because he has 14 spots and has had the SAME 14 spots for about 36 hours. I thought chicken pox spread all over you? I do remember getting on a plane as a teenager going to Las Vegas fine and arriving in Las Vegas COVERED in spots.

I did take him to the doctors (urgent care, not his regular pediatrician) and two doctors looked at him and diagnosed him with the pox. Worse than the diagnosis is my sentence - banned from work for at least 7 days. You might think it sounds like, vacation, but I don't have enough sick days for a late winter vacation :( Thank goodness, Oma is coming to the rescue Wed. and Thurs. Not sure about whats going on after that, but it helps!

Daniel is doing great with his supposed childhood disease. Aside from the runny nose, he really couldn't care less. We've been couped up a full 24 hours, so I'm breakin' loose! We're off to the store for some formula - so, if you are in my zip code and haven't had the pox....be warned!

Not yet house trained

Above - " Caught in the Act", "On the Run", and "The puddle"

I knew they (meaning babies) didn't come potty trained, but, I guess I didn't know that they truly have no preference where they pee). I found out the hard way...they do not care.

Daniel is totally into his "squirmy wormy" stage and totally loves trying to escape during diaper changes. He does this crazy roll and run deal. This time, since I was about to put him in the tub anyway, I let him go. And off he went, naked as the day he was born, tearing across the living room! It was so cute, I had to grab the camera. A few cute naked baby pics later, he quieted down, reached between his legs, and pissed all over the floor. The look on his face was sheer delight. Wow! I did that!?!?! He beamed. He looked proud of himself for marking his territory. He then crawled away from his puddle on the carpet and sprinkled another drop or two on the kitchen floor.

Maybe I'm not your average mom, because 1) I thought it was HILARIOUS and 2) I didn't clean it up until after I gave him his bath.

Judging from the joy he obtained by peeing on the carpet, I'm guessing he's not ready for the potty. I heard from other moms that a slight feeling of shame when they have accidents is a good indication they are ready for the potty. Oh well, I thought 10 months was a little young for that anyways!

$80 frozen yogurt...

Everyone knows that it is nearly impossible to get out of Costco (or Sam's Club) for less than $100. You go in for your lifetime supply of TP and come out with pillows, rugs, and 100 lbs of granola bars...and you forgot the toilet paper.

My trip to Costco was PLANNED and I PLANNED on leaving with out spending more than $2. Goal: Check out a sleeper sofa my mother law had seen. I told the baby if he was good, we would share some frozen yogurt on the way out ($1.60, including tax!).

We checked out the sofa. Sat on it, layed on it (somebody drooled on it...). Then we walked around, just checking out what they had. Daniel is super social, so he really likes just being out in his stroller where people will fuss over him and talk to him. He likes to show off his new tricks of waving hi and bye. As I was getting ready to leave, I realized I had no cash, and the snack bar doesn't take debit cards. My plan was ruined. Oh well, they had cute baby PJ's and he outgrew most of his... $9. Okay, so I have to spend $9, then get $20 cash back for my $1.60 yogurt. Hmmmmm. As I tried to decide if it was worth it or not, Daniel started yelling. Then crying. He was hungry. Good enough for me! We were both hungry, he needed PJ's. $29 yogurt it will be.

We got through the check out line and thats when I got hit with it.

"Your membership is up. Would you like to renew?" Growl. I must have looked pissed because she decided to point out to me that the expiration date is right there on the card-as if I have no right to look irritated.

No going back now, we're both hungry, he picked out his PJ's and was holding on to them. And I did PROMISE yogurt if he was good, and he was good.

"Fine." I said.

Moments later, we were enjoying our $80 frozen yogurt with strawberries. (and I don't think I want the couch....)

Baby's First Boo Boo

Above - the sympathy balloon!!!!

I guess I should be thankful I went 9 months and 10 days without having to kiss a single boo boo. I am VERY thankful that I was able to cure his first real boo boo with kisses (and a guilty purchase totaling $8.29.

Yesterday I took the baby out for a little adventure - lunch with Uncle Dave and Auntie "K" (thats Keri) and then had planned on spending some gift cards at the mall - I call it "free shopping".

Before heading out, we stopped at the grocery store. Daniel had fallen asleep in the car, so I gently scooped him out, made a bed in the grocery cart out of my jacket and his big blanket. He woke a little, but snuggled down to the corner and closed his eyes, content to just relax in the basket. I checked him a few times - out like a light. Then he startled awake, and quickly tried to sit up, and quickly fell back down, hitting his head pretty darn good on the cart.

The immediate silence before he cried scared the shit out of me. I quickly scooped him up and comforted him and he stopped crying immediately. It was little red, but didn't look horrific or anything. I moved him up to the seat and buckled him. As moved down the aisle, I reached behind his head to see if I felt a bump. WHen I brought my hand around, there was a drop of blood. Okay, a speck of blood. But really, ANY amount of blood would have sent me into the tizzy that followed. I panicked. WHat did I let happen to my baby! There was a scratch, almost an inch long, on the back of his head. I felt the blood drain from my head and for a second thought I would pass out. I panicked - I'm not going to lie. I flipped out, and ran back to the baby aisle, looking for some mom (preferably one smarter than me!) to assess our head boo boo. NOBODY! I'm still panicking, but the baby is laughing - probably had something to do with the speed at which I was pushing him through the store.

As I ran my options through my head (call doctor, call 911, go to urgent care, cry...) I realized there was a pharmacy isle. I headed over and busted open the Neosporin right off the shelf and slathered his head in it. Then I called Aunt Dana. I must have sounded really panicked because she kept asking me if the wound was gushing. "Gushing? No! It's not even bleeding," I said. Then came the laughter as she assured me he was fine. She had me put him the phone so she could ask him what happened. He listened intently, and when she asked if his head hurt, he shook his head 'no'. Good enough for me!

As we head towards check out, I feel like everybody is staring at the bad mom who's kid has a boo boo. I felt bad, so I thought I'd buy him a balloon. One of those impulse buys they put by the candy so your kid screams bloody murder until you buy them crap. He loved the balloon, and was smiling and pulling at it. It rang up over $8. I wanted to rip it out of his hand and steal one of those "buy one get one free balloons" I saw by the mac and cheese. But alas, he was all smiles, and if nothing else I felt better because I bought him a balloon.

As we headed out, people were still staring, but now there were staring because he was yelling and laughing and being super cute. (or maybe there were staring at the clumps of Neosporin globbed on his head)

PS-for any who thinks my balloon purchase will lead to a horrific baby-spoiling trend, I'll have you know this balloon has come in quite handy - he plays with it while we do diaper changes. YESSS!!! No poop on the carpet from a squirmy baby in 2 whole days!!!

Get me a camera crew...

Grab some coffee or cocoa, and settle in for this one! If you are very close to me (or related...even better!) you will appreciate this the most. However, if you are not, you will still enjoy this tale. This true, yet bizarre tale.

The title comes from a phrase my cousin Davey and I were constantly shouting two years ago. I was not yet a mama, and I was going through a rough time. Davey lived in the same town as me, and took it upon himself to drag me through this rough patch - creating the TRUE makings of reality television along the way. We had ambitions of being the next Anna Nicole show, sans drugs and fake boobies. In fact, I bought a video camera and we did document one of our big adventures during Spring Break. Since then I haven't often thought of my life as the type of drama you would see on FOX, but today, I kept thinking - "Get me a camera crew, because THIS is reality".

Let's set the scene. My mom, and her husband Bob were visiting from PA. This is especially fun because my father (as in, my mom's ex-husband) lives with me. Oh yeah, and my dad is weird. Very, very, weird. My mom, Bob, the baby, and I went out to get some lunch. We came home, and I went in to the house with the baby so I could have a free hand to help them into the house.
I hear this alarm-like beeping. BEEP, BEEP, BEEP, BEEP, pause. BEEP, BEEP, BEEP, BEEP, pause. Its sort of like the smoke alarms, but it seems to be coming from - the kitchen pantry?

I plop the baby in his play yard and begin my investigation. There, behind some cookbooks and my George Foreman Grill is a beeping Carbon Monoxide detector. I bought it in college when I moved into a townhouse with gas heat. I never had gas ANYTHING and I was convinced that every time I had a headache, I was dying of carbon monoxide poisoning. I attached it directly to the furnace in my first place :) When I moved, I was pissed off that we had to leave the washer and dryer, so I ripped it off the furnace in retribution and just tossed it in the pantry 2 years ago. I know, I know, the pantry???

So its beeping. I look at the codes and 4 beeps with a pause reads as follows:
"CO alarm. Leave the house. Get fresh air. Call 911"

I couldn't believe it. I pushed reset. 4 beeps and a pause. I still don't believe it. I check the code for battery. Green light and one beep. Shoot. I have a red light and four beeps. I look around for the really reliable CO detectors - my cats. There they were - perfectly alive. At this point, I still haven't decided what to do, but I knew I had to take the baby out. I took him out to the car for my mom and Bob to watch.

I decide to test the battery myself. So i took it out and stuck the 9 Volt on my tongue. Zap - it still had juice. I put the battery back in - BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP pause. Damn it! I decided that the rest of the directions fresh air, 911 blah blah blah were to extreme. I decided non emergency fire department would suffice. So I called, we chatted briefly. I told them about the living cats, and the 9 volt on my tongue (it retrospect, I think these were strange ways to justify my request for help....)

The nice fireman said to go outside, stay warm, yada yada. I reset the alarm one last time, and went in search of my dad. I found him, unfortunately. Shaving his face in his underwear with the door open. Cringe - I hate when he does that.

ME "Did you not hear that alarm"
DAD"Yeah"
ME "And...did you check it??? "
DAD "Well, it wasn't the smoke alarm, so, no"
ME "Its the CO alarm and I called the fireman and they said to get out. They're coming"
DAD (as he continues to shave, and not move) "OK"
ME (staring - cause he is not moving) "WELL GET OUT!"
DAD "yeah, yeah. Everybody's gotta die sometime"
ME "True, but your not dying in my house today. Get out."
DAD incoherent mumbling

Now that I have shuffled everyone out, I get that "unexpected company and the house is a mess panic". SHIT. Ughh. I really really hate that feeling. My mind is racing - "PRIORITIZE" I tell myself. I'm sure I have 10 minutes or less. I finally settle on the litter box. I'm sure they will have to go to the basement, and I didn't want it to smell like kitty poop. So, while the alarm is going off, and my entire family (mom, ex husband, new husband, and baby) are outside, I'm scooping poop and thinking what else I can do if I have time.

I decided that the litter box will have to suffice. I run out to check on the baby and I hear the fire engines.

"Oh my gosh! I can't believe they have the lights and sirens on!" I said. I felt like I had been perfectly clear that this wasn't an emergency...

My mom is laughing (and taking pictures) and I keep screaming how embarassed I am. The baby is loving it. Kicking his feet and squeeling.

The sirens get louder, and closer, and then they come around to my street. A ladder truck, another truck, and an ambulance - ALL WITH THE LIGHTS AND SIRENS ON. I'm mortified. My mom laughs harder, and takes more pictures on her camera phone. Now that the baby sees all the drama, he is absolutely enthralled.

I greet the fireman and we head towards the house. Then I see my dad. Leaning against the house, smoking.

ME "Don't smoke! What are you doing!?!?!?! Get away from the house - oxygen is flamable"
DAD "Nah CO isn't flamable"
FIREMAN "Um, sir, I believe she's reffering to the oxygen tank strapped to my back"
DAD Incoherent mubling again...shuffles off to his car.

He puts on his oxygen mask, and asks me to take him to my alarm. I look at him, waiting for my own puff of oxygen or something, but I just get the "ladies first" arm gesture. I show the fireman my alarm, and he confirms via radio to the guys outside we indeed have a positive alarm, but his sensor isn't beeping, so he removes the mask.

We start to walk through the house, and he says its okay for me to stay as long as HIS alarm doesn't start beeping. Suddenly BEEP BEEP. BEEP BEEP. I'm ready to run or for him to grab my arm and drag me out, but instead, he starts jumping up and down and sort of shaking his hips. "My personal alarm battery must be low". The tour went as follows. Walk, walk hop up and down to stop the alarm. Walk walk, hop up and down!!! Picture it, really...me and the hopping fireman. Jesus.

Now we are upstairs.

"Oh, the baby's room is cool," he says "You have a lot of room up here".

Whaaaa????? Glad you're enjoying the tour...find the CO leak asshole! Strange. This isn't the first time emergency personnel have commented on my house in times of crisis...

"Oh, you have upstairs laundry!? My girl friend would love that."

For REAL?!!? Is this happening? Its bad enough I'm leading this tour without a handy dandy oxygen tank, but, whatever- we can talk about my house!

We finish up the tour in the kitchen where I left the alarm sitting on the table, still beeping.

"Where do you keep this?" He asks.
"Oh, uh, I never put it up when we moved, i just let it sit here, by the recycling." Somehow, this seemed less lame than telling him I keep it behind the George Foreman.

After ripping apart my alarm again, the check battery light comes on, and the alarm stops. Doh! Doh! Doh!

"I did that too, you know. I even licked the battery." Great. I feel the urge to lie about where I keep it, but the words "I licked the battery" roll right out of my mouth.

He laughed a little and said not to worry, that it really was a "positive alarm". He assured me I would not be hauled off to jail or get yelled at by the fire chief on the other end of his radio. He then showered me with compliments for calling (and for NOT using 911). I even got a pat on the back for owning one of these alarms! He then did his civic duty and reviewed the symptoms of carbon monoxide poisoning - headache, naseau, vomitting, flushed complexion, passing out...

So we go outside, where I see my mom has a pulled a minor "Brittney Spears" move. They drove down the drive way so the baby could see the fire trucks up close. He was grinning ear to ear at the lights and bustle of the fireman diconnecting the hoses from the fire hyrdant.

I give some information to the fireman, apologize for about the 100th time, and see them out the door. I was less embarassed by the time they left, but when I list the major facts and characters - its deserving of a camera crew:

Dad, in underwear
Smoking + oxygen tank
The jumping fireman
Poop scooping
Pantry alarm
Lick the battery

PS - an hour later, at the grocery store, my mom is calling everyone in the state of PA to tell them the story while we're in line at the deli. The woman in front of me turns around and says "Oh! That was you guys? I heard the sirens and saw the ladder truck go past my house! I was wondering where they were going with the ladder truck!"

My Beautiful Disaster

It was one of those days. One of those long days where things are so busy at work, I don't even have time to pee. I don't even REMEMBER to pee until my bladder is aching. One of those long days that entailed a trip home from work to get my baby love to bring him back to work (about 100 miles round trip).

I had a concert, and had to bring the baby. That morning I was still fishing for a sitter to watch him at school. Luckily (and, as usual) my friend Jenny came through for us. The baby was a little fussy, seeing as how he was confined to the music office and forced entertain himself with a handful of toys I keep in the car and some tupperware Jenny had in her purse (random, right?!). He was a little screamy, and I had to come to his a rescue a few times when I was supposed to be doing some last minute rehearsing. Finally he calmed down. He never quite made it out of the office to watch my concert, but he was happy playing and yelling with his Aunt Jenny.

After the concert I came running in to fetch my baby to show him off to all my students and their families - and there he was - my beautiful disaster. He was now naked, excpet for a slightly soggy diaper, and stained blue bib that reads "Chicks dig me". His little cheeks were super rosy, and drool ran down his face and belly all the way to his toes (sounds like a dreadful version of the night before Christmas....) He had some baby crust on his nose, and his natural mohawk was accentuated with a little bit of baby vomit he had run through his hair. For a half of a second, I was ALMOST MORTIFIED...I'm a dork and always pack matching "concert clothes" for him so he looks extra cute...and there he was, naked dirty, and a little stinky. Ok, noticibly stinky. But when he flashed his million dollar, zero toothed smile, I saw my gorgeous baby, my beautiful disaster. I scooped him up to show off. Not only did no one comment on the strange smell, but the seemed to enjoy seeing his little round baby belly and chubby little legs. Some parents took pictures. I hope I can get one to add to the post.

Poor Jenny took a real beating that night - he was a true handful, and she had come straight from work. Thank god she's easy to please - I repaid her with a mashed pototoes and a diet pepsi from KFC.

Movin' Movin'

I'm doomed. My baby is mobile. He had been crawling backwards since about Thanksgiving. I predicted he'd be crawling forward (the more dangerous kind of crawling) by New Years. He was a little later than I said. He crawled on Sunday January 4, 2009. You can also mark that as the last day I was ever productive.

Now that he can move, that is all he wants to do. Crawl, and head straight for things that he should not have. His new favorite activity is to craw to the kitchen chair, grab the lower rungs, and shake the chair across the floor and bang it against the table. For slightly safer fun, he enjoys being chased around the kitchen island. It so awesome to watch explore his world in a new way - to see the curiosity on his face when he sees something new. I think he loves watching me run and yell "NO" as he heads for the yet-to-be-baby-proofed electrical outlets.

Along with crawling came a very willful attitude. I guess he believes that since he can get to where he wants to go, he is entitle to do so at anytime, and to have anything he wants. He has been hot pursuit of my cell phone for weeks. He won yesterday when I went to the bathroom. His acid drool has destroyed my phone. So, today - wal mart for some baby food and outlet covers then the sprint store for a new phone...

Mom, this bottle sucks...

It seems like my baby goes through these quirky little 'transitions days'. I'm not sure if anybody else has experienced something like it, but I'd be interested to hear if you have. Its sort of like every 2 or 3 months, he takes 2 or 3 days to work me into a new routine, or pattern, or behavior. I find it hard to describe - I guess its sort of like merge lanes on the highway - a little transition between two paths. His first transition was when he went to sleeping through the night. Then we had a little transition phase when he started taking regular naps. Then we had a little phase when he weaned himself from breastfeeding and found great joy in holding his bottle, by himself, not even in my lap (that was a tough cookie to swallow!). We also went through a phase where he taught me he needed more physical play - mostly standing up time, jumping in my lap time, etc.

The good news is, I've learned to follow his lead. He's such a sweet and pleasant baby that when he gets fussy, I now know he's trying to cue me into something new that he wants/needs. The most recent one went as follows:

My baby loves to eat. Up until the past week or two, we had a really clear routine. 6 oz. formula, a little time to digest, then baby food. Repeat 3-4 times a day with an extra bottle before bed etc. Then I received the following baby communication that I needed to translate:

BABY: Cry like I'm hungry
MOM: Make bottle
BABY: Take two sips and throw that shit across the room. Yell.
MOM: Give baby the bottle
BABY: Take two more sips while growling, then throw bottle and yell. Loudly. Stare at mom like she's dumb.
MOM: Why is he looking at me funny while he yells? Maybe he wants me to hold him while he eats. I pick him up, offer bottle.
BABY: Push bottle away and do my "rapid roll" move to get to my belly to make my escape.
MOM: Hmm...I could have sworn that was his hungry cry...

No worries - we have it worked out. We used to start with a bottle then have baby food, but now we have it reversed and he's happily gorging himself on baby food. I think he's eating more solids than is expected for his age - but he is happy and well nourished and getting enough formula to get the iron and such he needs.

I wonder where our next "merge" will take us...

A boring holiday for a baby...

New Years isn't really a baby-friendly holiday. My son rang in 2009 by sleeping soundly. I guess the only benefit of being a baby on New Years is you don't have to eat hot dogs and sauerkraut.