The boy likes music a lot. Since I don't have that much experience with little kids I don't know if this is run of the mill or sort of special.
He particularly likes the piano a his Auntie Zosia's house, and Android's drum kit that is set up in our basement. I really need to get video of their little jam sessions. The boy will sit on the stool with his feet hooked under the snare drum to keep him steady. He'll hold a drumstick in each fist and will wave them around gleefully and bang each drum or cymbal in turn.
Android always said he'd never push his kid into playing the drums but he'd be supportive if they wanted to. And as he said the other night "Do you know how convenient it would be if he wanted to be a drummer?"
He also said "All he needs is a little sister on upright bass."
I never really thought of a baby being a bit like a dog until one day I called him by making kissing noises. "C'mere bud! *Smoochsmooch* C'mere!!".
He came, too. What a good boy.
We've started teaching him tricks. He points to his belly and his nose, he plays "fetch" pretty well, and he knows "No" even if he doesn't abide by it.
He's not really talking which doesn't concern me... yet. "Mama" "Noooooononono" and "Ya. Yayaya." are in his repertoire at the moment. Not a huge vocabulary, but he has a good handle on what things are and what to do with them.
I read somewhere that 15-18 months is chock full of milestones - looking forward to that.
Last night I told your Dad that I wanted to set my alarm for 1:16am so I could go in and kiss you Happy Birthday at the exact time you came into this world. I didn't do it because I figured I'd end up waking you up and no one likes to miss out on birthday sleep.
Then the weirdest thing happened: you woke me up at 1:15. You were crying in your crib and I went to get you and bring you back to bed with us. You fell asleep as soon as I picked you up. I probably could have put you back in the crib for a few hours, but instead I woke Papa up and he kissed your forehead and wished you a very happy birthday.
The last year has been like that, kid - every moment has been a little odd, a new adventure, or leaves us completely floundering in a sea of parenthood.
This is the baby gate we have been living with for two and a half months. We call it the Ghetto Baby Gate. It is, in fact, the bathroom door held open by a Rubbermaid filled with books and blankets and spare sheets.
It worked fine - he never went tumbling down the stairs. However, he managed to wreak havoc on our bathroom by opening the shower door (usually with one of us in there), unfurling entire rolls of toilet paper, and splashing about in the toilet bowl.
Now we have a beautifully installed real baby gate. I'm thrilled to bits. We actually live here now.
He is officially a walker now. Until today he took some steps, he could pivot while standing, but the falling would ensue.
Today he walks* -with purpose and with glee. Today he crouched to pick up a toy and stood back up. Today he stood up without any help from a parent or a piece of furniture.
The weirdest thing happened: I was reading a book on the couch and I saw something out of the corner of my eye. I swear to Pete is was like that scene in Signs when you see the alien for the first time and it's walking past an alley and you only glimpse it for a few seconds but that is enough to freak you the hell out.
Know what I mean?
*I probably could have gotten video, but the demon child sucked on the end of the USB cable that uploads pics to my computer. Nothing works now. I'm researching a new camera and he will not be allowed within 100 yards of it. I shall buy a telephoto lens.
A lot of parents say they miss the infant stage. The innocence, the baby smell, the general smallness. The immobility.
I remember the infant stage. They can have it.
I don't miss the infant stage because it made me uncomfortable to have someone depend on me so completely. I can't be everything to this small person, are you kidding?
So now, when he spends 45 minutes on the sun porch talking to himself and the cats and watching the buses pass, I can relax. He's going to be okay - at least until he bonks his head and wants Mom to kiss it.
He's not little anymore. I can see the four, five, ten-year-old boy he will be. All legs and blond hair and a smile that will break a thousand hearts.
Three years ago today I married my best friend in a beautiful garden. There was an upright bass and an acoustic guitar and a whole mess of people around who were deliriously happy for us.
It was a nearly perfect day, but the best part was going home to our apartment after the whole damn thing was over. We were married, and life continued on pretty much as it had for the five years prior.
Since then we've had a baby, bought a house and gotten a joint bank account. Still, we're basically the same kids who fell in love in Duluth.
I guess all I can say is: I would do anything for you, Love. But I won't do that.
I dyed my kid's hair with Kool-aid today. It was supposed to be red on one side and blue on the other (with the white blonde 'hawk in between) but I got impatient and annoyed that my fingers were getting stained, and then I was worried he would look like Massive Head Wound Harry, so I put him in the tub before the "dye" really took.
Now he's kind of tinted pink and baby blue. Maybe I'll give him a patriotic tattoo as well.
Perhaps I will try again for Bastille day.
What else? Oh, he is so close to walking. He can even go a good three or four feet before he starts overthinking things and collapses to the ground.
Oh, and my computer and my camera aren't on speaking terms right now. No idea why. Until they work things out there will be no pictures.
And I deleted both my Myspace and Twitter accounts. I only ever used MySpace to stalk people, and I only signed up for Twitter so I could follow my friend's account of her labor and delivery. Cate is now several months old and I haven't used it since. Time for me to let go. I'm just not cool enough to be so connected. I'm contemplating weeding out my Facebook friends, but that seems kind of ruthless.
My kid choked on a piece of pear yesterday. At first I thought he was playing - sometimes he sticks his tongue out at me while he's eating, so I thought he was flirting with me until his face started turning red and he gave me the crazy eyes.
Anyway, I stayed totally calm and did exactly what I remember from CPR class - I took the tray off his highchair, unbuckled him, flipped him over and whacked him on the back. When the piece of pear emerged from his throat hooked it and swept it out with my finger.
The boy was scared and sad, but I gave him a sippy of water and put him on the couch. He kept glaring at me like this whole ordeal was my fault. Then he rolled off the couch and crawled over to the discarded highchair tray and finished his snack. It was a good snack, I guess - yogurt melts, graham crackers and (of course) pears.
I did everything exactly right, but all I could think of was that I'm not certified in infant and child CPR anymore and that scared the living shit out of me.
Let's say you're trying to transition your child to a sippy cup. Let's say he hasn't quite grasped the mechanics of holding it up and tipping his head back and swallowing all at the same time.
And, just for fun, let's say you've bought six different brands of sippy cups.
Want to bypass all that? Put your baby in a car seat on a sweltering June day in a vehicle with marginal (at best) air conditioning. Hand him a cup filled with cold water and a few ice cubes. See how fast he figures it out.
Today my kid called me "Mama" because he needed something. He's said it a hundred times before, but mainly in terror (f I leave for the store without him), exasperation (if I dare to wipe his hands and face after a meal), and general babbling (cruising around the coffee table with a spoon in hand).
Today I was feeding Max and the Czar was at my elbow. I heard him talking, but I was busy and he had to wait. A few minutes later the "Mama" was coupled with rhythmic jabs to my side. He was poking me!
I vacuumed the living room rug today. The Russian Mafia (My new nickname for the Czar and my nephew Max - clever, nyet?) were displeased by this. Max objected by lying stock still on his play gym and hoping the monster would go away.
The Czar was pissed. He immediately burst into tears and started flapping his hands at the wrists in a totally panicked way. Then, instead of running away, he started crawling toward the vacuum. I think he was trying to get to me and he was really mad at the mean loud thing that was in the way.
I was doubled over laughing. I actually kept vacuuming a little longer than necessary because I was laughing so much. I'm such a bad mom.
There may be a dearth of pictures for the foreseeable future. I think the camera has kicked the bucket and I need to convince Android that we need a new one. Shouldn't take too long as I am not above throwing a full-on temper tantrum.
We moved out of our apartment and into our house today. The house, once spacious and echo-y is now crammed full of boxes and mismatched furniture. Still, it feels like home.
We're strangely split between the two houses for a while, though. For example, as we have no internet at the house, our computer is still in the apartment. All of our dishes, utensils and other kitchen paraphernalia are in the apartment. I imagine we'll be snagging things as needed for at least a week.
The cats are confused, but we're leaving them here at least until after the housewarming party tomorrow. Poor things don't have anything soft to sit on. Finn is sleeping on a cardboard box. Sad.
I'm so very very tired. There is too much to do and not nearly enough hours to do it in.
Did I say I would post every day of April? Really?
I lied. I didn't even check my email while we were in SC. It was a good trip - nice to get away from Minnesota, but I have decided that if we're going to go somewhere to get away from the Minnesota cold, I want HOT. I want at least 80 degrees every single day. I don't want to put jeans back on until we have to get on the plane to go home.
BUT - South Carolina is truly beautiful. We stayed on Harbor Island in this beautiful beach house, we day tripped to Savannah on day (not enough for me - what a cool town!), we went to Hunting Island beach, saw alligators and horseshoe crabs and fiddler crabs and turtles and snowy egrets. We ate more grits than I've ever had in my life, and Android is hooked on them.
I'm exhausted and there's a LOT of stuff coming up in the next few weeks, but here are some pictures to tide you over.
Went to the second game of the Twins home opener series last night. It was a boring game with a spectacular 9th inning - just the way I like it. The boy fell asleep at 7:30, woke up at 9:30, was perfectly pleasant until the last few seconds of the game when the Twinkies totally pulled it out and people were screaming.
Poor kid. I had him in the front pack, I was jumping up and down yelling and I looked down and the kid had burst into tears. We scooted out of there pretty quickly.