37 posts tagged “baby stories”
And two more on the way. It turns out, The Boy was waking up in the middle of the night with teething pains. This would also explain why he would put both hands in his mouth, his pudgy little fingers pressing down on his bottom gums as he tried to relieve some of the pressure. It's the canines this time. It figures; we breezed through his first molars and his upper canines, so why shouldn't he torment us with the lower ones?
So, he's back on Tylenol before bedtime. It worked marvelously last night; he didn't wake until just after 6 this morning and I was able to get a (relatively) good night's sleep. I kept having weird dreams.
It's so weird to think that just a year ago, he didn't have any teeth, and that he'll have half of his teeth in just a few short weeks. Isn't that crazy? I mean, I know he'll start losing his baby teeth in a few years and all, but almost half of his teeth are in!
[sigh] He's growing up too fast.
I don't think there is anything that makes me feel more helpless than listening to my child's cries, knowing there's nothing I can do to help him and that Mommy's presence doesn't fix everything.
The Boy gets night terrors every now and then. Thankfully, it's not frequent, but when they hit, boy is it a doozy. They usually happen when he doesn't nap well or goes to bed very tired, as he did today. Knowing this, I make it a point to monitor his naps and adjust bedtime accordingly. Of course, since we attended a birthday party for his friend C today (at which there were several balloons), he only napped for about 20 minutes in the car this afternoon. He had plenty to eat all day, that I knew, so I put him down at 6 instead of 7. He protested until about 6:30, then finally fell asleep. Then the night terrors kicked in at 8. He just now has settled back down to sleep.
The screams are the worst, followed by the flailing. When I heard him cry out, I rushed into his room, expecting him to be tangled in his blanket or caught in one of the crib railings. Instead, he was lying down, thrashing about - and no amount of hushing from me or calm, comforting words would help. If anything, it seemed to aggravate him more. Instead, I sat in a corner of his darkened room, just watching and waiting for him to go back to sleep.
It's a terrible feeling, knowing that there isn't anything you can do, knowing that this is something he has to do on his own. Even worse is that I have no idea what his night terrors could involve, no idea what his dreams include.
And now that I'm back in the living room, I hear him cry out sporadically and hold my breath each time, wondering if another bout is pending.
I've spent the bulk of this past month silently congratulating myself each morning at the ease at which I can get The Boy up, changed, fed, and out the door with minimal fuss and little delay. I could even get his toys (mostly) picked up, and he would even help me!
But, as my sister is quick to remind me, as soon as I have his routine figured out, it changes. Instantly.
He had a really busy weekend, but Chris and I were conscientious about his schedule and made sure we didn't deviate from it too much. On Friday, he skipped his morning nap (too much excitement at IKEA) and didn't take his afternoon nap until around 3, but he slept in an extra hour the next morning. On Saturday, he took his morning nap but skipped his afternoon nap (note to self: do not sit in the back seat if you want the baby to nap in the car) en route to the wedding, but he was back in the car and fast asleep before 7:30 and at home in his crib just after 8 - plus he slept in until 7 the next morning. On Sunday, he took both naps and went to bed at his normal time. We made sure he stayed on schedule.
Yesterday afternoon, it seemed like there was a change in the air. Now, granted, I was home (which rarely happens when he comes home from school), but Chris even said that he seemed a little off his regular routine. When I crawled out of bed at 6, he didn't want to have any dinner at all; he just wanted to nurse and cuddle with Mommy. I was able to get him to eat a tiny piece of chicken, a few pieces of cheese, and half a pear - hardly enough to sustain this growing body considering how much he normally eats. But, I chalked it up to his not feeling well, and he did, after all, eat a hearty breakfast and drink a lot of milk, so I just doubled up his diaper insert and put him to bed.
If ever I questioned a shift in this child's routine, it was verified this morning - and then some.
I let him sleep in until 6:30. This was his usual waking hour for a while, so it didn't seem odd to me. Once he awoke and I collected him from his crib (Tommy Bear was left behind for once), he wanted his pacifiers (one in his mouth and one to carry, of course), then he wanted to be put down and allowed to wander the house. The first stop was my bedroom, where he sought out Daddy and threw himself on the floor in a fit when I told him Daddy had gone to work. (Apparently, that's just not acceptable.) I left the room, and he closed the door after me. Nice, huh? When I opened the door and beckoned him to come out, he obliged, only to throw himself back on the floor in a heap of invisible tears after I closed it.
But, no matter. DJ Lance and the rest of the gang were on TV, and it was the episode where Broby gets to eat lunch! (He perked right up for that!)
After the diaper came off, he decided Yo Gabba Gabba! looks better while standing, so I was treated to my very first standing change this morning. The diapering part wasn't so bad; it was the ointment application part that was ridiculous.
At any rate, once I got the diaper on, he decided the TV was no longer interesting (he's seen this episode before, after all) and went to his room to get a book: Sandra Boynton's Birthday Monsters. As you can guess from the title, it's a book about monsters coming to celebrate a birthday. Only he wasn't interested in the story, just in the pictures of the balloons. At which he kept pointing, over and over and over again.
"Yes, baby, that's a balloon."
"Ah SAT!" ("What's that?" for those who don't speak Toddler.)
"That's a balloon, too."
"Uh tuh SAT?" ("What is that?")
"That's a green balloon."
"Ah SAT!"
"And that's a blue balloon."
"Ah SAT!"
"That's a pink balloon."
"Uh tuh SAT?"
You get the idea.
Oh, and the pages with no balloons? Boooooor-ing. Who knew?
After the book, he crawled into my lap and wanted to nurse. I let him nurse for a little while, then moved him to his high chair... where he proceeded to scream and cry the entire time. He ate a few pieces of pear and three scoops of yogurt, but as soon as pears went flying, I plucked him out of the chair and let him sit on the ground. There, he happily ate three more pear chunks and drank a few sips of milk before returning to the family room and the (now off) TV.
"O abba!" he demanded, pointing at the television.
"It's not time for TV anymore, it's time to eat," I explained, offering a pear chunk. He shook his head, then started to cry and grunt.
When the grunting stopped, I waited about half a minute, then laid him down to change his diaper. Hooray for poops! This time, he didn't fuss, and I was even able to get some socks on him! But no sooner did I get the second one on his foot that he rolled over and crawled to the Little People bin (which I just filled) and began emptying it.
Since he was content, I decided to finish off his uneaten yogurt while he played, thinking that he would surely come back to the kitchen once he saw me eating. And he came to me several times, each time to hand me a different toy. Oh, it wasn't to play with him, though; he just wanted me to hold it for him. After the third time, I got wise and popped a pear chunk in his mouth before he could walk away, and he sat down to chew it, then reached for more.
Success! Or so I thought.
After another half hour of cajoling and pleading for him to eat, he finished half of his pears and most of his milk. At that point, there really wasn't a whole lot more I could do. I put shoes on his feet, then let him guide me out the door to the car.
On our way to school, I decided to listen to normal (read: not children's) music for a change and put the soundtrack to Cirque du Soleil's Love in the CD player. The Boy wasn't a fan. He didn't cry the whole time or anything, but kept talking over it and certainly didn't dance the way he does when Joy Division or the Offspring plays.
And when we got to school, I thought I was home free. Oh, no no no. Silly Mommy! You see, all the kids were outside when we got to class, and The Boy decided the classroom was so much more fun without the other kids there, and he just wanted to sit on the little Dora couch and play with the toys and look at all the books, so he wasn't at all pleased when I took him outside to join his classmates. In fact, he didn't want to be outside at all, but a cup of cold water distracted him until the end of outdoor play (there were only a few minutes left, anyway).
Once he was back indoors (with all his classmates), I was finally able to make my escape. This morning, my ever-so-easy 45-minute morning routine with The Boy was stretched into almost three hours.
Don't get me wrong - I'm not saying I want those three hours back. (No, that's the feeling I got after I finished watching Jumper - horrible movie.) I like hanging out with my son and, fits aside, couldn't think of a better way to spend three hours.
I just wasn't ready for this change!
I don't know how, but I managed to pick up a really bad sinus cold this weekend. And now The Boy has it, too. It's the second cold I've passed on to him. It's only fair, I guess. Lord knows he's given me a lot worse!
Yesterday was my friend Todd's wedding. It was outdoors. In Florida. In the beginning of July. Is there any wonder, then, that The Boy was bright red (even though I kept him in the shade)? He was just really hot. He survived it splendidly, though. I constantly fed him ice water while we were outside, and after just a few minutes inside, he was back to his normal color.
Anyway, he was very well-behaved throughout the ceremony and reception. My husband was told (again) that we need to get The Boy into modeling. I just don't think it's a good scene, really. There's just too much pressure for a little kid, you know? But I told Chris that I wouldn't be opposed to sending in his picture for a Parents Magazine contest. Even then, though, I don't know that I could handle the rejection. He wouldn't care, but I'd be all sorts of annoyed.
We left just after the cake cutting. The Boy was getting tired (it was bedtime, after all). I put him into his pajamas before we left, and he (thankfully) dozed off within minutes of getting into the car. Once we got home (it was an hour drive), I only needed to gently get him from his car seat and deposit him into his crib. He protested a little when I lifted him from his seat, but he seemed grateful to be able to stretch out in bed.
My friend Bekki told me the most exciting news on Friday when we went to their house... She and her husband are expecting a little bundle of happiness sometime in January! I'm so excited, words can't begin to describe. For as long as I've known them, the two of them have repeatedly said that they're not interested in having children. And even after The Boy was born, she was still disinterested. But now she's pregnant! And I'm incredibly stoked for her.
So, The Boy has had an eventful weekend. Friday was a trip to IKEA and an afternoon at Aunt Bekki's and Uncle Doug's where he repeatedly climbed up the stairs (I'm still trying to teach him how to crawl down) and chased their cat - even tracking her under the couch! Chris was feeling poorly, so he took The Boy home while I went with our friends to Todd's rehearsal dinner. (And there was no fuss going down for a late nap, eating dinner, taking vitamins, or any other part of the bedtime routine.) Someone from the bride's side asked me where my husband and child were, and I told them that Chris took him home and put him down. I then added that tuck-in time is one of my favorite parts of the day, but that I was glad to have a night off from being Mom.
Then Saturday was the wedding. I don't want to talk about it. Suffice it to say that I kept The Boy amused throughout the ceremony by blowing bubbles while he fanned them away from him. I wish I had a video camera or asked someone to take pictures because it really was adorable. Oh, and my little cheese connosieur really liked port wine cheese.
Actually, there is one notable thing that happened during the reception. Any time we let The Boy wander on his own, he would make a beeline for either Uncle Doug or Uncle Lipman. It was the funniest thing. He wanted either Uncle Doug or Uncle Lipman to hold him, which is not usual at all. He was also happy going to Aunt Bekki (though I'm putting a stop to that very soon because she's not used to picking up 24 pounds of squirminess - and I'm going to make sure she gets the kid-glove treatment during this first pregnancy) and Mommy and Daddy, of course, but when left to his own devices, he sought out Uncle Doug.
Today, I made him sleep in until 7 (I wanted to sleep in), then reluctantly plucked him out of bed and began our day. Save an hour morning nap and an hour afternoon nap, he was going non-stop for the entire day. It was constant jabbering, constant running, constant playing... I took naps while he napped and still couldn't keep up with him. (Never mind the sinus cold handicap. I still think I ought to be able to keep up with an almost-15-month-old!)
Anyway, a part of me is glad to be heading back to work tomorrow. I need the rest.
I'm feeling rather blah today, and I'm not entirely certain why.
When I woke up this morning, I thought of my laptop and of all the work I needed to do this morning, and I wanted to cry. Not that crying would have done any good, but I was just that frustrated.
The Boy was very easy this morning, thankfully. He didn't fuss too much during his diaper change, he ate breakfast like a champ, and even enjoyed walking from the car to his classroom this morning. (He also helped himself to a pancake when we got to school, too. Hey - the other kids were still eating, and it would have been rude to turn down all that food. I just hope the teachers heeded my warning about over-feeding him, but as I haven't received a call from either husband or school, I think we're in the clear.) We saw some cranes in the bushes in the parking lot, and he stopped to watch them, completely engrossed. It wasn't until they moved out of sight that he was willing to continue.
I jumped into work this morning and pushed out the things that needed to go out immediately... Now I'm in the "wait" part of "hurry up and wait".
My laptop is downstairs with my buddy J (who promised not to rename it Donkey Kong but a more fitting name instead, like Princess Peach), and he said he'll get it working again. If anyone can do it, he can.
Maybe seeing my laptop working again will cheer me. Cuz I'm just feeling bummed right now.
I'm a little ashamed I didn't stop (or really think) to take pictures, but there it is.
Anyway, I had a house full of little boys and their moms today. It was really just three other little boys and their mothers, but four wee 'uns are a lot to handle - even when the Mommy to kid ratio is 1:1! I have no idea how the teachers manage it at daycare.
My friend Alyne brought her little boy (let's just call him C), Jen brought her little boy E, and Jen's friend Erica brought her little boy J. (One of the moms that I like from daycare initially accepted the invitation but canceled at the last minute because she and her husband were meeting with a realtor today. It wasn't a big deal, and we're still planning on getting together for a playdate, anyway.)
The Boy was a little taken aback when everyone arrived at once. He's used to seeing adults coming to our house (usually the same group again and again), but seeing the kids kind of threw him off. It was a good half hour before he was comfortable enough to get off of my lap and join the others. J started playing with toys right away, then E joined in, then C, and finally, after much persusasion, The Boy began playing, too. I found this particularly interesting because this is his house and his toys, but he was very cautious about the whole thing.
Once he warmed up, I enjoyed watching them all play in tandem.
Some observations:
- Kids this age don't really grasp the concept of "mine" or "yours", which is nice. But they also don't understand the concept of not taking something from somebody else, or using something already in use.
- The Boy certainly has his favorite people. He cuddled with Alyne for a good part of the afternoon, but wasn't interested in cuddling with Jen (whom he's seen numerous times) or Erica.
- Kids this age like to do what the other kids are doing. Alyne said that C ate more chicken at lunch today while watching The Boy eat than he did all day yesterday. Meanwhile, The Boy became very interested in certain books on the bookshelf because he watched J continuously take them off the shelf. As soon as J left, The Boy made a beeline for the bookshelf and attempted to take down several of the same books.
- Kids this age will accept boundary reinforcement from anyone. It's not just limited to Mommy. This is a nice thing if all the adults are on the same page and are okay with other Moms enforcing boundaries for their kids. It's also kind of funny to watch.
I also noticed that The Boy is a very careful child in walking and in play. Movements are very deliberate for this child.
Oh, and the most coveted toy of the afternoon? It was the handle of a bucket that houses all of The Boy's Monster Blocks. The Boy managed to take it offf the container after lunch, and the kids each took a turn at creatively playing with it.
Some things will never cease to amaze me.
Thus sayeth The Boy (I think - stuff gets lost in translation, you know).
I hear him in his room, clicking on the buttons of the musical toy in his crib, the base of his mobile long after the circling jungle animals were removed from his far-reaching grasp.
He pauses every now and then to cry out, letting everyone near and far know that he does not want to be in his room, and certainly not in his crib - and that he is certainly not tired. Never mind that he has been rubbing his eyes and is increasingly all around cranky. No, this child does not want to sleep, and all should know what torture I, as his mother, am making him endure by removing him to a quiet, darkened room, for what he clearly does not need or want: rest.
The cries don't last long; they're the cries of a sleepy little boy who continues to insist that he's not at all tired. They're short in duration, stopping for a few minutes before resuming, each time getting a bit quieter.
Eventually, he'll cry himself to sleep. Right now, though, he's strongly protesting the notion that he needs to rest in the middle of the morning.
(Now I can hear him blowing raspberries, something else to keep him awake. This is a new tactic.)
One day, God willing, the tables will turn and he will tell me that I need to slow down, take it easy, maybe rest. I only hope I'm still keen enough to remind him of days like these, days when I have to struggle to get him to sleep for just a few blessed minutes.
What's this? There's silence from the nursery?
Could it be that Mommy does know what she's talking about?
Nah... He must have just changed his mind.
I've been saying The Boy is 14 months old for some time now, but today is his 14-month birthday.
Let's see... What is The Boy doing these days?
The most exciting thing is that he's walking very well these days. He's walking less like Frankenstein or the Mummy and more like someone who's had a little too much to drink, but he's more stable each day. I came home a little earlier than usual today, and he walked as quickly as he could from the other side of the house to greet me. If he could run, he would have. It's nice to get greetings like that!
Also of note is that this child is constantly talking. If it's hereditary, he got it from me. Don't expect him to talk on command, though. He's not a trained seal.
The Boy now has 12 teeth. Well, okay, only 11 - but #12 is right there and just waiting to come out. That last tooth is is lower left lateral incisor, and you just know he's anxious for it to come out by the way he sticks his fingers in his mouth as if to try and ease the pain. But as far as teething goes, he's been a champ. A very drooly champ, but a champ nonetheless.
He's doing exceptionally well sleeping through the night. It's not uncommon now for him to sleep soundly for 11 hours straight. If I'm really lucky, he's down for as many as 13. And bedtime is like clockwork for him. If we're not beginning the end-of-day routine by 7, he let's us know. And if he's not in bed by 7:30, well, let's just say he becomes a very cranky little man.
Daycare is going well. His teachers absolutely adore him and continuously remind Chris and me what a great child he is. They also like to marvel at this child's appetite (most people do) and assure me each morning that he is does a great job eating his lunch and snacks each day. He's recently started reacting to bananas, though, so those have (sadly) been shelved for a while. Not to worry - he enjoys eating peaches, pears, and watermelon, too, and is still a big fan of applesauce. He's been in this strange mode where he refuses to eat green beans at home but he's still eating them at school. It's the same thing with carrots, but he'll eat one or two before tossing them to the floor.
Right now he's getting over a cold and recovering from hand, foot and mouth disease. The latter sounds worse than it really is; he had a blister on his left hand and, we learned after taking him to the doctor, some blisters in his throat. The symptoms began showing up last weekend, and, just as the books and websites said, they're starting to go away. Thankfully, he hasn't been kicked out of school for it, though they sent him home last week because of his banana reaction... One's contagious, the other isn't. Go figure. Anyway, his doctor told us to go ahead and let him go back to school since that's where he contracted it, anyway - and if he was already symptomatic, chances are all the other kids already have it. You gotta love daycare.
It's amazing to think that I've been back at work now for just a little more than a year. It's hard to believe that a year ago, he was still so helpless and completely dependent. Now, he's far from helpless and only partially dependent - though don't tell him that because he won't believe you and would probably throw himself down on the ground for a hearty tear-free cry.
Tonight was a big surprise for Chris and me.
After a smaller than usual dinner of cheese, bananas, and pears (hey - at least it's healthy), I started gathering The Boy's things for the last diaper change of the day and a change into pajamas. Once I had everything in place (in the family room, of course, because there's really no better place to change a little toddler), Chris put on Yo! Gabba Gabba, and The Boy immediately cruised over to the TV the instant the opening song began playing. Chris put out his arms to catch him, asking, "What's this?"
Much to our surprise, The Boy answered, "Oh Ababa!"
I immediately called my sister to tell her. Funny moments like these have to be shared.
[sigh] My little boy is certainly not a baby anymore!
I've discovered two things that are guaranteed to make my little boy happy: good food and balloons. I've written quite a bit about food, but I don't think I've written much about his newest fascination with balloons.
My friend Bekki was the instigator in all of this. I hold her fully responsible, anyway, even though my husband was really the one to introduce The Boy to balloons.
Bekki brought him a Mylar balloon for his birthday, in addition to other toys. (I tell Bekki she's The Boy's Auntie Mame, and then I have to remind her that's a good thing.) The balloon was a hit! Sure, he loved all the Little People he received, too, and he enjoyed his cake tremendously, but the balloon was the gift that kept giving... until the helium started running out, anyway.
Now, whenever Chris takes him to Publix, The Boy points at and screams for all the balloons in the store. I don't witness this personally, but I can totally picture it. He also seems to find every balloon on Main Street in the Magic Kingdom, spotting them long before Chris or I see them. Oddly, though, he doesn't care about the red balloon in Goodnight Moon. But I digress.
Earlier this week, there was a Yo Gabba Gabba! episode called "Love", and the first part of the show featured balloons. Let me back up a moment and say that putting Yo Gabba Gabba! on TV is a sure-fire way to get this child to stay still for 10 to 15 minutes. I know it's terrible to let your child watch television, especially one as young as The Boy, but if you could just see how fixated he is with the show - and how much he enjoys the music - you would relent, too.
So back to the "Love" episode. Like I said, the first part of the show featured balloons. There was even a song about balloons during the Super Music Friend Show segment. The Boy was transfixed. He was so mesmerized, in fact, that I changed his diaper, changed his clothing, put on his socks and shoes, and clipped his nails - and he didn't fuss one bit. It was like he was watching the best episode of the best show ever and couldn't be bothered to be annoyed with me!
If a fascination with balloons is hereditary, he gets it from me. I absolutely love balloons, though I don't know exactly why. In fact, I prefer balloons to flowers, and I always have. Weird, isn't it?
