Nervously waiting

On this day in my pregnancy with LG (37 weeks 3 days), I spent a Sunday afternoon with my dad's side of the family for Gami Brunch, where I was told by my family that I would either be having the baby the next day (on my cousin's daughter's birthday) or before Christmas (that Friday). I told them they were all crazy, as there was no evidence that the baby was coming soon--I hadn't "dropped," had any real contractions, lost my plug, or even had effacement/dilation checked by my doctor. However, a couple hours later at home, standing at the bottom of the stairs wrapping up a casserole and talking to AD, I felt a giant blub and told AD, "honey, something just happened in my pants." My water had broken, contractions started up, and LG was born the next morning. 

So here I am again at 37 weeks 3 days, one month shy of three years later, with a different set of circumstances. Almost two weeks ago (35 weeks 4 days), huffing my way back to my car after dropping LG at daycare, I was ragged and weary from the pace of working full-time and being a single mom part-time. I called the doctor, expecting them to have me come in, but since I'd been having Braxton Hicks and cramps, they insisted I go to the hospital to get checked out. I was 3-4cm dilated and 70% effaced, and since this was my second baby, they kept me overnight, then released me from the hospital and from work the next morning with instructions to take it easy and try to get to 37 weeks (or more). The following morning, I lost my plug. Almost two weeks later- I'm about the same, though getting even bigger, more uncomfortable, and starting to get anxious. 

I've been having a hard time falling asleep when I lay down in bed at night, even though I tell myself that this could be the last good rest I get before labor begins. I get this nervous feeling in my chest and have to concentrate on breathing. Though I've now read Ina May's Guide to Childbirth two times in the past months, have ideas of what I might do differently this time, have evidence that things might be different this time, and have a positive attitude, I'm still anxious. So, I think it might be helpful to just put out there some of the things that are worrying me:

- AD has not had to work since the 9th. He'll go back to work on the 26th--the Tuesday before Thanksgiving--and work through the 30th--the day after Thanksgiving. If I go into labor while he's at work, he's going to have a hell of a time getting home with the holiday travel. So I'm wondering, should we try to use some natural labor induction methods to get things moving so Baby Girl Meyer arrives before he goes back to work? Or would it be best to just let her come when she's ready and risk AD missing her birth? My next doctor appointment is tomorrow, so I guess we'll just wait and see what she thinks.
- Due to the fact that I have Group B Strep, that I'm already 4cm dilated, and since this is my second baby and my labor (not pushing, unfortunately) with LG was relatively short, the doctor has stressed that I need to get to the hospital right away when I go into labor. But what if this labor is different, and going in right away leads to Pitocin or C-section?
- This is going to sound really silly coming from someone who had her first child, and is planning on having her second child without any pain medication, but the IV I had at the hospital two weeks ago hurt the whole time it was in and for a couple days afterwards. Not looking forward to having another. Also, my doctor has said that I can just have the IV put in and injections of antibiotics put through without having fluids (I swear all of the fluid ended up in my feet last time), but I fear I'm going to have to argue with hospital staff about it.
- Finally, there are aspects of LG's birth and postpartum that I do not want to repeat: I pushed for three hours, different positions did not seem to help, and was really worn out by the end. I tore really badly. 10 days after he was born, I had severe bleeding and clotting, had two excruciating pelvic exams in the ER (seriously more painful than actually having LG), and a D&C to remove placental tissue.

So there it is, my fear. If you're the praying type, please keep these things in prayer for me.

LG the bookworm

If you've ever spent time with a toddler, you have likely experienced the moment when you realize that it's been a while since you been pulled away from the task at hand, and your child is very quiet. Luckily for me, lately when these moments strike while LG and I are upstairs, I can usually find him in his room like this: 

And then one night after LG had gone to his room while I was rinsing out the bathtub, I found him like this:

I had even told AD that LG's reading habit afforded me an extra 20 minutes of dozing one Saturday morning. 

And then this past Thursday AD and I were both up and getting ready for work. I came upstairs from the shower, and no sooner had I sat down to dry my hair did LG start screaming in his room. So I got up and went to open his bedroom door, but was met with some resistance--it was LG! 

I started freaking out, thinking my glorious days of toddler-containment were over because he had finally climbed out of his crib. Thank God AD told me a few minutes later that he had put LG in his reading chair to see if he could get a few more zzzz's (but failed to turn on the lamp for him--Dads!). 

 

A good date

Thirty years ago today, I was baptized.

Two years ago today, AD and LG were baptized. 

We did not plan this purposefully; it was entirely coincidental,

and I didn't realize the significance until after the date was set. 

We chose the date because AD's sister and her family would be visiting that weekend;

that Sunday was actually Palm Sunday, and since our congregation does a passion drama on Palm Sunday

(you can watch this year's here--it was amazing), we had our ceremony at home.

 

LG actually wore the same suspendered knickers and cap his father wore for his dedication some thirty years earlier.

 I may be partial, but wasn't he the cutest little baby ever?

A letter to LG at 27 [and a half] months

Well, LG, it’s been five months since my last letter to you. And a busy five months it has been.

At the writing of my last letter, your Nana and I were busy working on your Halloween costume, which is probably the last costume for which you have no input. Since the first animal noise you could consistently make was a growl and I had a good idea for a DIY costume, you were a lion (tutorial coming later this summer for all you blog readers). You went around the cul-de-sac and across the street; we probably hit about ten houses, and you were starting to the hang of trick-or-treating. 
 

 

Sometime during the fall, owls became your favorite animal, which inspired the theme for your 2^nd birthday celebration. Currently, the animal you’re most interested in is a “durtle.”

Luckily, your father’s one week of vacation (airline pilots bid their vacation, and it is awarded based on seniority) fell during the week before Christmas, so we were able to spend your birthday with Daddy’s side of the family in Maryland. For our owl theme, we had the Dubs next door make you a personalized birthday shirt; the front had an owl on it, and said “Look Whooo’s Two!” and the back had your name and birth date. We also had the Dubs make shirts for your cousins on Mommy’s side of the family for Gami brunch, as shown below with your Birthday Buddy CD:

Mommy made owl ornaments, which served as a decoration and favor for the cousins:

And your father and I made owl cupcakes for dessert. You liked the “cookas” on top more than the cupcake or frosting. 

Your birthday gift from Mommy & Daddy was a camping set, which you and your cousins all crammed into:

Besides celebrating your birthday and spending time with family, I would say the other highlight of our trip was a visit to the village firehouse to see their annual train garden display, along with a glimpse of the fire trucks. 

I’m always surprised that the book of Genesis doesn’t explain why God created little boys to be crazy about anything with wheels (or why all children love Elmo), but it’s certainly the case with you, and “dooh-dooh”s are by far your favorite. You were thrilled that Nona and Pop Pop sent home the wooden train table that has now replaced (two times over in size) the coffee table in our family room. I’m not going to lie, your father hates it and is already trying to get rid of it.  

Maybe because we were with you 24/7 that week, or maybe because you were away from home and out of your routine, but it seemed like your "terrible two" symptoms kicked into high gear while we were in Maryland. Evidence: 

-         Your grandparents keep juice boxes, cheese, and other little snacks in the lower part of their refrigerator for your older cousins to help themselves to while they're over. We don't really give you juice at home, and when we do, it's watered down and definitely not in a colorful box with a straw; however, we thought it would be fine if you had one of these little boxes per day while we were at Nona and Pop Pop's. Well, after you got your fix on the day we arrived, any time someone would open the refrigerator, you'd have a meltdown, crying "my joo, my joo."

-         Your grandparents have put together an adorable room that can sleep all four of your cousins; it has a twin bunk, two toddler beds, and a pack 'n play. Since the pack ‘n play was set up for your little cousin CZ, we pulled one of the toddler mattresses onto the floor for you to sleep on. Getting you down for the night wasn’t too bad, but we struggled with your naps; the biggest contributing factor, I think, is that you’re used to room-darkening shades at home, and the kids’ room at Nona and Pop Pop’s only have shutters across the bottom third of the windows.  So naps were very difficult, and some days they didn't happen at all.

Because your sleeping arrangement in Maryland was different than it had been at home, we were able to switch up your bedtime routine when we returned home. Prior to the trip, we were reading several books before bed, and I was rocking you to sleep and then placing you in your bed. When we returned from Maryland, we whittled it down to just two books each night, and the same books every night (Thomas's ABC Book and Goodnight Goodnight Construction Site). After the books, I rock you for precisely four minutes, and then put you in your bed and tuck you in. Since you have made no attempts to escape, you’re still sleeping in your crib, and will continue to do so until a) you try climb out, b) you’re too heavy to be lifting in and out, or c) someone else needs it.  

So that was our trip to Maryland. The next week, we celebrated Christmas at home in the Mitten with Nana and Grandpa and Uncle BZ (Daddy was working), and the week after that, we hosted Gami brunch for Grandpa's side of the family. The holidays were busy, but not overdone. They were meaningful, but relaxed. Mommy closed out the year feeling very happy and very blessed.

When people ask me how you are, I tell them, "he's two." You throw tantrums, whine, and disobey on a daily basis, and I am frustrated with you on a daily basis. Some days I wonder if every single component of our day together (which is not that much, considering--and this is sad, but true--we probably spend forty-five minutes together in the morning and two and a half hours together in the evening during the week) has to be filled with drama and hassle and tension. It wears on me differently some days than it does others. I try not to take your behavior personally, but sometimes it's hard not to. I think your father and I have done a good job at balancing the routine and structure we provide for you with compassion and flexibility. Your time with us is pretty predictable, but if you show interest in doing something outside our routine, we'll usually oblige. We'll usually let you do things yourself, time and safety permitting. So why do you fight me so?

The biggest thing I've noticed over the past few months is that you have a hard time making and sticking to your decisions. We usually try to limit you to two options; you'll pick option A, then want option B, but when option B replaces option A, you want B again, and then nothing can make you happy. A few examples:

-         Everyone seems to be finished with dinner. We go to take your food away, and you holler and cry for it back. So we put your plate back in front of you, and you push it away. So we take it away again, you want it back again, but you don't really want it.

-         We come upstairs for the evening and go into the bathroom. I ask you if you if you want to try and sit on the potty, and start pulling your britches down. You throw a fit, so I pull them back up and tell you we'll go to your room to get in your jammies and read books, and start heading that way. You do not follow, because you are still in the bathroom, trying to pull down your pants. You will fight me whether I go back in the bathroom and help you with your pants, or take you to your bedroom and try to change your diaper.

I've learned to simply avoid these situations if I can predict them, to be firm, and to ignore your behavior if I've given it fair attention. But some mornings, after I've had to hold you down to get you dressed, pin you down to get you buckled into your carseat, pick you up and carry you all the way to your classroom at daycare because you've refused to leave the the side of the car in 20-something degree weather/leave the sofa or fish tank in the lobby/go through the security doors/run down the wrong hallway/leave your hood in my hand when I try to grab you/kick off one of your shoes as I'm carrying you, and then you throw a fit when I try to leave, I can't help but be riled up. And that's all before 7:30am! Or some afternoons, when you've run back into at least two of the already-tidied toddler classrooms and gotten into stuff, sat on each of the seats on all three baby buggies outside of the infant room, crawled down the hallway, bust into the administrator's office or copy room, and then collapse into a heap of spaghetti when I finally try to carry you to and get you in the car, I yell at you. Stop it! You're hurting Mommy! Other times, there are two swift hand slappings.

I am not trying to say that you're the worst toddler ever; in fact, I'm pretty sure you're a rather typical specimen. I'm not trying to say that I'm the worst parent; I know that's not true. I'm just trying to put out here what out everyday interactions can be like. 

This letter is getting long. You'll probably be in high school before you have the reading skills and attention span to read this, so I'll close out this post with a list:

- Any aircraft you see--whether it's Jeremy the Jet on Thomas & Friends, the Hess helicopter Mom Mom sent you for 
  Christmas, or an airliner cruising at 8,000 feet you see out the car window--is "Daddy's nee." Likewise, any pick-up truck is 
  "Daddy's truck."

- Any phone (or calculator, or remote) is a "lo" (as in hel-lo).

- If we tell you something is like "MacCheese," you're much more likely to try it. If you won't eat something one night, there is 
  a good possibility you'll eat it the next night if we make it into a quesadilla.

- You love "cookas" (cookies), and have applied it to any type of baked good or dessert. Crackers, breakfast bars, muffins, 
  popsicles--all cookas in your book.

- You have the hands splayed/puzzled face expression down to a T.

- While you can't put two fingers up to show you're two, you can cross those two fingers, and are very proud of it.

- You can walk sideways, and sometimes require that I do too (or that I walk backwards) on our afternoon walks.

- Your favorite toys are your play kitchen and parking garage. You do not really like to color :(

- We recently created you a hangout nook in your closet, which you love, and are excited to show visitors.

- You have a crush on a little girl named Abby at your daycare. She sometimes refuses to ride in the buggy at pickup time (she 
  is lovably sassy), which gives you an opportunity to giver her a hug (and sometimes make smooching noises) on our way out. 
  If we mention school at home, you'll immediately start saying her name.

'round here

Here are some snapshots from the start of our day, which I would say was a typical Saturday for LG and I. 

He woke up at 5-something in the morning, which is not typical; I can usually count on him to sleep at least until 7 am. Considering he has not been napping at daycare and this night's rest was the foundation for which we'd be building our weekend on, I said uh-uh. I rocked him for a bit and then let him cry his way back to sleep. He woke up for good around 9am, crying for me to come in.

Of course, when I came in, he didn't actually want to get out of his crib. He wanted to hand me all of his babies (his blanket, his lovey, his turtle, his Hess truck, his Scout, his owl, his two favorite books). He wanted to hold on to the rail of his crib and jump on the mattress. He wanted to grab the curtains that go across his closet and wrap himself up in them. He wanted drop back down to the mattress and go nigh-nigh.

I opened the shade and light was gorgeous, so I went downstairs to get my camera. This is the face I returned to, and this set does a pretty good job of showing LG's progression from tantrum to okay in 6 minutes: 

 

 

The rest of our day was about the same; beautifully sunny with sprinkles of toddlerhood. Hope you had a great day and the sun was shining wherever you are.

A letter to LG at 22 months

Well, LG, the last two months have flown by, and here I am writing you another letter. I can hardly believe that this you [and me, obviously], about two years ago:

All sticking your little butt up under the right side of my ribcage

And here we are again, about a year ago:

All learning to crawl and still fitting in sleep 'n plays

And here you are, about two days ago:

All 'room-room in Grandpa's car and about to watch the Tigers sweep the Yankees in the ALCS

I apologize that I don't have any better recent pictures of you uploaded right now--wait, I haven't really taken any pictures of you recently. We have been "go go go," as you would say. Good thing your Nana has been doing complimentary photo shoots for you; maybe I'll update with some of her pictures later. 

You have learned what a baby is, and have started calling your blanket, lovey, and nigh-nigh Scout your "bay-bee"s. Each morning when I come in your room, you hand me each of your babies before you'll let me get you out of your crib. Most nights, you also insist on taking a book to bed with you, and sometimes your firetruck--on the first few nights you insisted on having your firetruck in bed with you, I was actually able to lay you down before you were asleep. And then Daddy put your firetruck facing the wrong way in your crib one night and messed up your feng shui and you haven't gone down by yourself since. Oh well. 

You're now so skilled at going up and down the stairs [on your butt or your knees] that we've actually taken down the gate between the two staircases, and you can go up and down as you please. In the mornings I still sit down on the second stair from the top before you. From behind, you push my back and tell me to "go."

I may have mentioned before that our hideous main bathroom has a bathtub so deep and vast that Mommy and/or Daddy still accompany you during bathtime.

I'll be honest in telling you that generally your father enjoys baths much more than I do, so I'm sure you find Daddy to be a better bath companion than Mommy. Even still, you and I have a new bathtime game that is quite entertaining. Sitting up, I take my legs and move them back and forth, as if I were driving a pedal car, which creates a wave-pool effect in the tub. You then imitate my movements and say "go go go go" whenever I stop. There is much laughter.

We finally took you for your first haircut last month. We went to a walk-in place and the lady just used scissors. You behaved well and she did an okay job, though I think next time (which will likely be tomorrow, since you have school pictures coming up this week) Mommy or Nana will do it. Nana got pictures and I saved some of your hair in a baggie for whenever I get around to making your baby book (which may be when you leave for college). 

Your vocabulary and ability to identify objects has exploded in the past few months; my favorite words to hear you say are baby [see pronunciation above], cookie [coo-ka], and fish [I can't spell this one phonetically or even say it the way you do, but you don't pronounce the f and get stuck on the s's]. Probably your favorite thing to identify and say is "owl," and you often think Cookie Monster is an owl. That and you call pumpkins "boo." You can link two to four words in a sentence; "my ____" is your most frequent phrase, and last week you told your grandparents "I want my wawa."

Some other random things: 
- Your favorite toys are Mega Blocks and puzzles
- You are going to be a lion for Halloween
- You are now (as of last week) staying home with Daddy two days a week and going to daycare three days a week [instead of five].
- You are finally staying in the nursery during service at church.

Okay, Boo, Mom is off to some cleaning the basement before bed. And since are a few pics of me here, I am Embracing the Camera.

Much love,
Mommy

LG's golden month-iversary

Editorial note: Well, I created this post eleven days ago so that this post is dated LG's 20th month-iversary, and then proceeded to take another eleven days to actually get the content up because I was being a perfectionist and trying to do a fancy photo collage with his 8-month pics from last year. As you can see below, the pics are there but not in a collage or even formatted to my liking, but whatev. If I ever get around to doing a "why I'm blogging" post, it will explain that I'm actually going to get my blog made into a book each year. Our family yearbook, if you will. Much easier to keep up and serves many more purposes than a scrapbook. So here it is, late, but up, so I can move on to some of the other things I want to write about. A preview: camping, NASCAR, evil, and back-to-school. Stay tuned.

Well, LG, you're 20 months old on the 20th. Your golden month-iversary.

Though I didn't have signs, stickers for your onesies, or a stuffed animal to sit next to you for size reference, I did manage to take a picture of you on each of you month-iversaries (or a few days before/after) during your first year. Here are your 8-month-old pictures from last year, taken on 8/20/2011:

 

[The rest of the pictures throughout this post were taken on 8/20/2012.]

Here's whats been haps with you as of late:

After your first day back at daycare after our family vacation last month, we Mommy decided that we she was going to take away your pacifier, cold turkey style (your dad agreed that it needed to be taken away at some point, though I don't think he saw the necessity of taking it away right then, and he definitely had moments of weakness in the days following the split, but I was strong and never once gave it back to you). In the months prior to vacation, we'd let you have your binky at bed/night/naptime, and as needed to keep you quiet in public or to keep your h'anger in check during dinner preparation. However, while we were on vacation our daily schedule got all kinds of cojagulated and a lot of your naps took place in the car, so you and your binky had a lot more quality time together while we were away. 

You threw a tantrum in the daycare parking lot that first day back when I left your binky in the car, then asked your teachers for your "baba" all day, and then threw another tantrum when I picked you up and we had to leave that binky at daycare. That's when the executive decision was made. Though there have been times when I've wished I could just stick the plug in your mouth, you've done great without it. The main post-binky change we've had to make is with your bedtime routine.

Let me say here that I still rock you to sleep, and I really don't care what anyone thinks about it. 

The cleaning and scrubbing can wait till tomorrow. For children grow up, as I've learned to my sorrow. So quiet down cobwebs; dust go to sleep! I'm rocking my baby and babies don't keep.
~ Ruth Hulbert Hamilton

From birth until sixteen months, I'd basically top off your tank with breastmilk before the long haul through the night (you actually started sleeping through the night around 4 months), and you'd fall asleep in the process. For several months there, it was kind of difficult to transfer you to your crib without waking you up, and at one point I determined that the minimum waiting period between sleep initiation/de-latch and bed transfer was nine minutes (with time, we got it down to two or three minutes). As we wrapped up nursing, I'll admit that I was pretty nervous about how you were going to settle down and drift off to sleep without imbibing in that magical elixir, but we transitioned to your post-breast bedtime routine (described in this post) pretty naturally. I was even able to get you, the child who could care less about stuffed animals, to connect with a lovey. But without your binky, you'd just thrash around in my arms long after your projector had turned off, and I'd end up having to put you in your crib to cry it out. This, coupled with your growing attention span and interest in books, led to an addition of bedtime stories (finally!) to your post-binky bedtime routine. 

Every night, we read [at least one page of] the following books [before you're "all done"]:

- If I Were a Puppy by Anne Wilkinson (you point to the puppy's nose, your nose, and then Mommy's nose, and you point and say ball)
- Hickory Dickory Dock by Sanja Rescek
- Nursery Rhymes by Roger Priddy (you like to point out the "wawa" in Jack and Jill)
- Danny the Duck With No Quack by Malachy Doyle (you can point out and say duck, and point out the flowers and trees on the cover)
- Baby Einstein: Pretty Poems and Wonderful Words by Julie Aigner-Clark (Mommy loves reading you old-school poetry)
And you'll actually let me read the entirety of these books:
- Peek-A Who? by Nina Laden (you can point out and say owl and choo-choo)
- Goodnight Moon by Margaret Wise Brown

The last and first word you say each day is "book." You're not talking in complete sentences, but your vocabulary, word linking, and communication skills are certainly growing. You have started saying "hi-eee" and waving [when coming and going]. Whenever we walk past a car, you point to it and say "room room." You can sign please and say "eese." At the table, you like to point out that everyone has a glass of "wawa" (your generalization for any drink). And I'm pretty sure that your term for yourself is "deh-deh." 

You moved up to one of the toddler classrooms at daycare about six weeks ago, and are once again a little fish in a big pond. Especially so, since the age range in this class goes from 18 to 30 months. This transition has been more difficult than when you started at this particular[-ly awesome] daycare a year ago or when you moved up to the last classroom; never before have you cried, clung, or ran up to the door before/after me when I've dropped you off in the morning, but I'd say that's the case about 75% of the time so far. Outside of daycare, you've also been having what I'd consider to be pretty normal separation anxiety when it comes to Mommy and Daddy, and sometimes Nana and Grandpa. I don't know if this has anything to do with separation anxiety, but for whatever reason, you seem to get upset lately when I sit down on the toilet or take off my clothes before your bathtime (our gigando tub requires Mom or Dad take a bath with you).

Another tenet of toddler behavior that we're plagued with are tantrums when you don't get what you want when you want it (usually food, Mommy's attention, or an item you're not supposed to have). In my letter to you at 18 months, the only mention of tantrums was during dinner preparation, and those tantrums still come each an every day, as sure as the sun rises and sets. This past week, it seems like if we're at home and you're not eating something you like (which is hard for Mommy to determine these days), reading books, riding your tricycle/fire rig outside, taking a bath, or otherwise have Mommy's undivided attention, you're not happy. Supposedly, tantrums and whining are completely normal, but I have to admit that one of my biggest concerns right now is that the whining/discontentment will become a permanent behavior or personality trait. As a parent, one of the most important things I hope to instill in you is a general gratefulness and appreciation for the non-tangible and simple things in life: people, laughter, memories, nature, creativity, spirituality, etc.

Other toddleristics that you've acquired: doing what we tell you not to just to push your limits (example: making [a bigger] mess of your food, yourself, the table, and the floor towards the end of a meal, all with that sassy smile aimed right at Mom and Dad), jumping right into a new activity to avoid a less desirable activity (example: hopping on your fire rig when we've just put away your tricycle and are supposed to be heading inside for a bath)--though this is definitely more desirable to me than a tantrum.

And some adorableness: A few nights ago when we were all cuddling (aka Mom and Dad lounging and you climbing all over the place, dropping elbows and knees) in bed, you took the tissue I had used on you and set aside, folded it up just so, and proceeded to wipe your nose. The past month or so, Daddy has been picking you up from daycare after your nap. Some days he'll bring a snack (or have one of the daycare gals put your afternoon snack in a baggie to-go) and take you to the park, where you'll eat your snack on the tailgate of his truck and watch and point and giggle at the cars going by, before you play, of course. Other days you'll follow him around the backyard or the garage (most recently putting his 1957 Johnson two-stroke boat engine that he is restoring back together--or taking it apart, again). As I approached our house the other day after work, I could see you and Daddy walking down the street, little hand in big hand, each of you in an orange t-shirt and jean shorts (which was not planned, as I had you dressed and out of the house before Dad was up), and I thought my heart might burst. I'm so glad you and Daddy have your special time together.

You were handed down a beautiful red tricycle, which is currently your favorite toy. You can get yourself on/off the tricycle pretty well now, and once on, you grip the handlebars, rest your crotch where the seat and frame meet, and push yourself along Fred Flintstone style. And boy, can you haul on that thing; once you get some speed you pick up feet, lean back, and cruise. Mommy and Daddy have been teaching you how to use the pedals, but I think your legs are just a titch too short at this point. Give it a week. You're just about grown out of 18-month size bottoms, and are into 2T/3T tops and a size 7 shoe.



In deep concentration



 

P.S., LG

A few things I'd like to add to my Letter to LG at 18 Months:

You also say uh-oh, all done, I see you, and the week before Father's Day, you said I love you to your daddy when he picked you up from daycare. I think you may have said it to me yesterday.

You have sixteen teeth. Yikes!

Another of your favorite toys is a fridge farm; there are magnetized, interchangable front and rear ends of farm animals that go on a barn--it makes a lot of noise, and I think your mommy might remember some of it's songs and sayings forever ("A horse pig? That's silly!"). One of the things you like do with the animal pieces is put them in these little fabric  slits on our baby gate. Your newest hiding place for them is the bottom shelf on the door inside the refrigerator; you also like putting wooden play food pieces in the drawer beneath the oven. I love finding your little treasures in unexpected places.

This morning when I was driving you to daycare, I was watching you smile and talk in the mirror on my visor, and I was thinking about what a joyous child you are. Like anyone, there are times when you're hangry, tired, or sick, and there are other times when you're just in a more quiet and contemplative mood, but most of the time your happiness shines. At this point in your life, I honestly don't believe there's a grain of malice in you, though there is definitely some mischief and a sliver of defiance. 

 Your father was to pick you up early from daycare today to take you to your 18-month well-child appointment. When he arrived, you were sitting in your teacher's lap and she had an ice pack on your cheek. You had been bitten. Again. For the third time in as many weeks. The first week you were bitten on your left shoulder blade, and apparently the same child bit two other children that day. Last week you were bitten above your left wrist; when I was picking you up, another mom was also signing an incident report because her little girl had been bitten in the same spot, to which I made some jokes about this being a serial biter. And then today you were bitten on your left cheek. If the same child bit you all three times, they definitely like the left side (serial biter!).

A few things. I'm told that biting is a very common occurrence at this age, because children's verbal communication skills are not well developed; children seem to know that their mouth is what they're supposed to use to communicate but don't quite know how to do it, and so emotions and frustrations are often expressed through biting. Your daycare communicates these incidents to both the biter's and bitee's families--though the identity of the biter is protected--and I am thankful for that. I don't have any hard feelings toward your daycare or the biter/biter's parents; it could just as easily be my child that is biting (or pinching, hitting, insert any other aggressive physical behavior) other people's children (and it may one day be, though I hope not).

I was concerned about the first few bites. I consider myself to be a pretty laid back and level-headed mother. I don't coddle you, and I don't worry needlessly about your safety. The only time I ever really worried that something might be wrong was the first time you slept through the night, but I sure as heck wasn't going to go check on you and interrupt such a momentous occasion. 

But I am upset about today's bite. I want you to know that I actually cried when I got off of the phone with your father this afternoon. I mean, this child bit your face. Your beautiful face. You soft, smooth skin that I look upon every night in the dusk light as I rock you to sleep, is now interrupted by red teethmarks (that will likely turn several different colors during the next few weeks as it heals). To me, the location of this bite seems so much more intentional and severe. I asked your father how you were reacting after he'd picked you up; he said it was obvious you had been crying before he arrived, that you started crying again when you saw him, and on the way to and at the doctor's you seemed... melancholy. 

As your mother, that is what I worry about; that someone or something will bring down your joyous spirit, and it will change you. I know I can't protect you from life or hardship or pain, and in fact, I look forward you to seeing you deal with what life gives you and hopefully grow out of those experiences (and hopefully grow in your relationship with Christ, your family and find your true friends as a result). But it's still hard.

 Well, that's enough of that. You and I both have some time off of work/daycare coming up that is much needed and looked forward to. You basically have four more days in the transitional toddler classroom before you move up to the toddler classroom, and I am told that you will not be in the same class as the biter.

Here are the stats from your 18-month well-child appointment today:
- Weight: 27lbs, 6oz ~75th percentile (I think you've actually lost some weight...)
- Height: 32.5" ~60th percentile
- Head circumference: 19" ~don't know what percentile that is, but you've definitely grown into your head.
And you do not need any more shots until you are four years old.

Much love,
Mommy 

A letter to LG at 18 months

Dear LG,

Today, you are eighteen months old. One and a half years you've been in my arms. I can and can't believe it; it seems like a long time when I think back through all of the little phases you've grown through, but then, when we're living through each phase, the days go by quickly. One example: I pumped three times a day at work from the time I went back when you were two months old until you were a year old. For ten months I arrived at work at 7:30am and stayed until 5pm, and I never once left the building during the day. Some days I would also pump at home, because it never seemed like I was making enough milk for you, and then I'd have to clean all of the bottles and pump parts. Looking back, all of that work, every day, seems so grueling and confining. But at the time, I didn't question or even really think about it, I just did it. I nursed you for the last time about two months ago, which I still feel kind of sad about sometimes.

So here's a little snapshot of your daily life right now. Mommy wakes up before you and gets ready. Usually, you sleep, or at least lay in your crib, until I'm ready to get you up. Sometimes I can hear your talking to yourself in your own language. When I come in your room, say good morning and turn on the light, you sit up and laugh, like you've been waiting very patiently for this moment. A lot of times you'll stand up, laugh some more, and stamp your feet and shuffle from one side of the crib to the other. It's adorable. 

We get you dressed and take you to daycare. You are in the transitional toddler classroom, and your teachers are Miss Amanda and Miss Jen. Your best friends there are Jude and Liam, who you've been with since you started at this daycare at eight months. We are so lucky that a daycare like this exists, is close to our home, and is affordable (as far as daycare goes!); it truly is a blessing to our family. Last month, every single child in your classroom got Hand, Foot and Mouth Disease--except for you. I attribute your superior immune response to the sixteen months of breastmilk you received. Anyways, when I come to pick you up from daycare after work, your teacher is pushing you (and as many as five of your friends) through the halls in this really big wagon. Miss Amanda says, "I see someone's mommy," and each of your little heads swivel in my direction. I love the look of recognition on your face when you realize it's your turn, that it's your mommy. 

When we get home from daycare and Mommy starts dinner, it is the most challenging part of our day. I saw something on Pinterest that defined the word "hangry" as "a state of anger and irritability resulting from being hungry." And boy, are you hangry when I'm getting dinner ready. You are at my feet, whining and crying. Sometimes I give you goldfish crackers or veggie straws to snack on, but as soon as they are gone, the whining and crying ensues, and then I run the risk of ruining your dinner. Tonight I gave you the Jiffy mix box, a muffin wrapper, an egg carton, and an empty milk jug as I was making dinner, and it kept you pretty well distracted. However, you still didn't eat much for dinner, which is something that's been happening more frequently, but I'd still say you are a good eater. Your favorite foods are yogurt and sweet potatoes, and you love to dip things in ranch dressing. You are pretty handy with a spoon.

After dinner, we either go outside and you help Mommy water the garden, or we play in the living room. You take a bath every other night. I have been trying to teach you not to run on the bathroom tile, wet or not, but you've slipped twice. Both times you were naked; the first time you fell flat on your face and the second time your feet went out from under you--first your butt landed, and then your head. I felt bad, but I couldn't help but laugh. Sorry, buddy. 

Once you're in your jammies (cotton 2-piece or just a onesie), we turn on your projector and all kinds of animals rotate around the ceiling. We talk about all of the animals we see (you usually roar for the lion), Mommy says a short prayer, and then I rock you to sleep. And that's a typical weekday for us.

Your personality, mannerisms, and speech are really developing, and are adorable. Right now, you say Dada, Mama, Grandpa, Nana, dog, baba (for pacifier or a bottle, as in a bottle of ranch dressing), ball, wawa, and all kinds of other indecipherable chatterings, babbles, and ramblings. You make the best faces, especially at the dinner table. Recently we were out to dinner with your Nana and Grandpa; we were talking to you about something you shouldn't do or didn't want, and you shook your head no. I thought this was funny, so I laughed and covered my mouth, and then you covered your mouth (I never realized I did that; it's funny the things you don't realize you do until you see your children do them). I guess you had to be there, but it was cute. You love to give me open mouthed kisses right on my mouth. You will usually give them to me when I ask for them, and sometimes you will randomly take my face in both of your hands and give me a smooch. I am trying to soak all of this love up while I can. 

You are starting to get excited about toys. About two months ago we were working at your great-Nana's house, and Grandpa told you that he found something for you around the end of the couch. When you saw a pair of matchbox-size cars sitting there, your face lit up, you pointed at them and made a noise that was a cross between a grunt and a squeal, as if to say, "Me? Those are for me?" At the last birthday party we attended, you were very interested in your friend's new gifts, especially his Cozy Coupe. Your favorite toys are a set of wooden food that is held together by velcro, and any type of car or truck. Though Mommy can understand how parents want to buy things for their children to get the sort of reaction described above and also help them develop new skills, we are purposely trying not to buy you a lot of toys in hopes that only receiving toys on special or rare occasions will help you be grateful and imaginative with the toys you have and the toys you receive (for any readers here, The Power of Play by David Elkind has some really interesting ideas about play, toys, and learning).

I am happy to see that you enjoy spending time outside while your father and I tend to the yard, grill, and just hang out. Part of the time you keep yourself busy with the playhouse, lawnmower, and swing we received as hand-me-downs. The rest of your time is spent dragging around the watering can or the basket I put my weeding in, which reminds me a lot of your Uncle BZ when he was a little boy. You love playing with water (last week you were following your father around like Frankenstein trying to play in the water coming out of the watering can) but not in water. I placed you knee high in your kiddie pool last week, and you started screaming. You've also started screaming when I've put you barefoot on the grass, sand, and concrete, and also at the sound of the hose sprayer filling up the watering can. 

 

We went to the Detroit Zoo together for the first time earlier this month. It was an employee appreciation event through my work, so our admission, parking, a meal, and some rides were free; however, it ended up being one of the hottest days of the year. You were a trooper. People kept asking me, "Is he always this good?" to which I answered, "Yes, as long as he's not hungry or overtired"--thus why we ate first when we got to the zoo :)

With the weather so hot, not many of the animals were active, but you definitely noticed the giraffes and kangaroos, and started cracking up when a seal swam by the glass in the Polar Passage in the Arctic Ring of Life. You also got to ride on the back of a tortoise on the carousel, which you loved, and the train, which you really didn't think much of either way. Hopefully your daddy and I can take you back to the zoo on a weekday this fall once school has started.

Thank you for being my buddy.

Much love,
Mommy