Catch!

Dear Stefan,
On this frigid Monday morning, we had a great game of catch. Our first game that lasted for quite some time and actually involved the ball relaying between the two of us. You would only play this with the rattle balls, of course. The silent tennis ball isn't nearly as exciting. The game evolved into you chasing the balls around the room, and finished up on the little rocking chair. Later this week, you'll play catch with Kelder, too.

I've been so proud of a ton of little cool things you've done recently. I don't think I can remember them all right now, though. We had a great conversation in the car on the way home from Choir School. It's nice to have someone to talk to on that hour ride...even if it is only screams and babbles we share. Every so often I told you to find Jingle Pontuse (the very first toy you ever played with, attached to your seats), and you shook him around.

You've learned to pet the cat so gently and now have been playing with him a little. Both of you like the same toys (pencils, nerf darts, and ribbons...well pretty much every toy can go baby or cat). He's so gentle with you, he's become a mini mommy's helper, entertaining you while I try to get things done. Both of you love rubbing heads together, and you try to follow the cats where ever they go.

You've become a great listener heeding my warnings not to do certain things. I can't get over this...you listen better than many of the middle school students I've taught. You know to leave the "yuckies" around the house alone, despite wanting to taste them.When I tell you to be careful, you cautiously continue what you were doing. Sometimes, when I call for you to come back in to a room, you do!

I love that you devoured curry the other night, with a spoon, and more than ever made it into your mouth. Now if we could get you that excited over the other food you eat...tacos have lost favor, oranges are still pretty great and grapes too, but you're more into their juice then their flesh. Oh and for the first time, you grabbed a cup of water and drank it, without Mom helping to tip it up and hold it steady!

You're so gentle with turning pages of your story books. You've started to point you fingers at the words, swirling it around the paragraphs while I read the other page. And you're becoming much more patient with the long winded books we've been reading. Curling up in a blanket in the rocking chair with you and a book is the perfect way to spend these snowy days.

All about the house, there are so many fun things to point at. Once only the fun strings, chimes, or switches demanded a finger. Now you understand when I ask what you want and point to whatever it is. You're "no" eyes are appreciated too. It is so nice to be able to communicate with you and not have to assume everything all the time. I wonder if all the fabulous babble stories mean anything in Stefanese, and what is this new word "ying" you have?

Morning calf raises at the tub side make me grin. You pop right up on your tip toes. Someday, when dad's out, I'll teach you some ballet moves, but that'll be our secret;). Finally, you've been relinquishing one hand as we stroll about the house, but only when you're in a good mood. You walked this way with Dad today, and then you started kicking a couple of rattle balls around as you went.

Some people may look at a baby and think it's just a dull lump. Some people have told me that it's no use to communicate with a baby under 3 (OK it was a bit of a strange bachelor person that made that obviously erroneous remark). But I can, and do, sit and watch all the little things you do all day, fascinated that only a year ago, you couldn't even hold your head up, 6 months ago, you couldn't sit, barely three months ago you couldn't crawl, and only recently have you started saying Mom and Dad with meaning and consistency. I can't wait to see what happens next!!

Love,
Mom

It's not what he says, it's how he says it

A recent topic of discussion on the pregnancy 'Dec '09 forum, now a "birthday club", was what our little ones are saying these days. Some have up to 12 words, some have sign language thrown in there, us...we have only babbles still. However, they have are filled with meaning. Like I've heard Vietnamese described, one word can mean many different things depending on the inflection used to say it, so is true for Stefanese. For Stefan, a mishmash of poetry styles all in one.

Sun rise, open eyes, Maestro approaches the podium:
a tap of the baton, rather, a pound of the changer, a moment of babble quickly subsides,
there's much to be done, then screams arise.
First chirpy, then sad,
growing louder...now mad.
That "Mom" I long to hear, is still a milk-demanding wail until
the Maestro is released from his cribby prison.
Humming while nursing, singing a song of the morning woes,
he quickly turns happy while letting those frustrations go.
Out into the world  in search of a cat with light, lilting calls,
Squeaks, near a chuckle, turn to soft soothing hums,
cat hugging now, but one day, will be the sound of "Mum".

Off on a mission, searching for toys,
"Dad, dad, ad, add, dad!" and a whole ton of noise.
"Da, da, da, da !" "Ra, rer, re, roar!"
and his toy box is emptied all over the floor.
He pulls from the debris a coveted book,
Flips through the pages, reading, "La, ladd, rad ra ra." I stop to look...
Waving a hand in the air, delivering his speeches,
I believe he's summoning his army of Star bellied Sneeches.
And if we don't heed, him there's a price to pay,
authoritative"ra-ra" becomes a raucous "ayyyyyyyyye!"
That turns to those screams higher than the piccolo can play.
Again on a mission while the kitchen is cleaned, and he's wandered too far,
I hear the worst sound of all...silence. "eh?" I call out...nothing...."eh?'
"...ah" a soft reply, we relay, and I find him deep in his room, hands holding high
magazine feathers which he offers me, full of pride.
"Dad, dad, dad!" he says, pointing here and there,
catching me up on what has happened, while I was cleaning.
"Ste, Ste, Ste" That must be his name,
I smile proud at the diagraph he's made. I pick him up, he snuggles right in,
gives a big hug, on my shoulder his chin.
"Ahhh, mmmmm, aaaaahhh." He hums while he pats my back,
not letting go, my favorite Stefan a kissing and hugging attack.
It changes to giggles and guffaws, eyes rolling, head spinning,
free falling, and dancing, on the Stefan coaster.

Now I've tried everything I can think of to get this straight, and I'm out of ideas. I apologize for the crick you'll get in your neck!

First "Real" Christmas

At barely 10 days old, last year's Christmas and holiday season really wasn't all that much of Christmas. This year, we got a little closer with some family traditions. Overwhelmed by his 1st birthday, since we've only done that type of party once before, Christmas took a back seat, compared to what I thought I'd do with Stefan. I have some definite traditions I wanted to pass on, but ultimately, it just didn't go as I planned. I'm probably 1 year ahead on the expectations of how to celebrate the holiday, maybe even two.

Decorating the tree, I anticipated sharing at least a little with him. In reality, I fought him off the ornaments as he only went for the breakables, de-tangled him from the lights, and removed him from the branches of the tree a few times too many to enjoy it all. Luckily it was coming on nap time. Mid tree, I tossed him in his crib, and sighed with relief, as I could finish on second least favorite holiday tradition. I get tired of the whole thing after I get the lights on and about 3 ornaments. The 1938 version of "A Christmas Carol" was put on, not my favorite, but a staple for tree decorating time, and chilled out in the glow of colored lights and the smell of pine.

The next thing I realized is great tradition is the food...won't get into here, because I plan a whole expose around this: "Holidays, Food Allergies, and Elimination Diets, a deadly combo! Why what is on your plate might KILL you! Story at 11:00." Let's just say, merely from my plate and his, I wouldn't have identified any of our holidays as being such.

We had an advent calendar on my desktop which was really cool (Thanks Liz!!). Every morning we watched the little animated cartoon and listened to the festive music. We're still revisiting it, actually. It brings cute little smiles to Stefan that I love so much!

Ultimately there was way too much that was left out to get all crazy with how I'm passing down any traditions in a post. Like all those walks through the woods that weren't really as much fun as they'll be with a boy who wants to explore under rocks or play in the stream in a few years, I found I'll just have to wait until he's a little older to get excited about the holidays. He didn't  see the actual bearded guy, but I hope his fondness of plush small Santa will prepare him for the excitement of the real dude for next time.

"Love the Dinosaur!"

Child rearing is the ultimate practice in patience, not just with the daily routines, but with all the fun activities he needs to grow into. We'll get there soon enough, as long as the Mayan's aren't correct, and the world is still around after 12/12/12.

Pooh Cake

 It was easy popping up Melissa's birthday montage of Stefan, so easy I thought I did all the birthday picture posting I had wanted. I have so many pictures from the holidays that it is crippling to try to go through them, searching out the perfect for a specific post, so bear with the messed up time line I have going on here...it'll work out with topics in the tags, ultimately.

My first attempt at cake decorating. Not Duff-worthy, but recognizable. Thanks Mom for the dairy-free cake!

The cake that everyone else indulged in was dairy-full, covered in coconut and had some tropical fruit going on, or so I was told. Again, thanks Mom!

Stefan had a great time ripping into the presents, and being decorated. He's in love with wheels.

The Peanut Kid

So I've been remiss on posting. Partly because I'm busy again balancing work and the baby, some days well, others less successfully. Plus it seems when I come off of an extended vacation, I have a really hard time getting back into the groove of things. These snow days aren't helping...though they have made hunkering down in the basement, cozy with the furnace repairing instruments a bearable task that sunny summer days don't lend themselves to. Anyway...

I started blogging in general, as an outlet for all the new early childhood information I was learning. I hoped someone somewhere would find what I said useful. Here too, I've hoped the same, though I haven't really had a "cause". At first, Stefan was "high needs" as coined by Dr. Sears, but that was a bit of a phase, and now that he sleeps so much better, and has a lot less anxiety with people besides me, it's no longer an issue. I hope what little I wrote may help someone still. But now I'm starting to have an actual cause, and I wish I didn't.

Food Allergies. Gah, HATE! Of the gambit of things a child could have problems with, this is pretty tame on the surface. My biggest challenge until recently has been how to locate a grocery store that carries coconut ice cream which isn't a frost bitten snow ball, if there IS any at all, since it costs so much in the first place. I whine about what I can't eat, but really, it isn't that bad taking my favorite food group out of my life for a year...actually I would have made it two, but it's become more complicated. In retrospect, one severe food allergy is easy, 2 a pain, but tolerable...we're up to 3...and all of them have a huge place in my diet. But this isn't about my diet for much longer.

Here, crawling/walking are now one of the kinks in the ease of managing food allergies. His favorite place to graze: that hidden area right under the kitchen cabinets...with potentially 60 years of crumbs worked into the crevice between the linoleum and baseboard. Though 2/3 of our family is allergen safe, my husband still enjoys his American cheese (is that even considered a REAL cheese:), and there can't be Mexican food without cheddar shreds, which opens the door for crumbs on the floor and cross contamination aplenty. Yes, I keep it all hyper clean, but there is always that chance I missed something and that is a constant thought I can't get rid of.

When nuts were added to the list, it was relearning what to be vigilant all over again. Easier to shop for and actually find safe food than dairy, nuts avoidance isn't that hard. It's just that they used to sit out in a bowl on the table without a second thought, maybe one would fall into the cushions and it was OK...and now- well I'll steal the sentiment of a blog post I read recently: Stefan would be safer next to a pit bull than a peanut.

He's been fed primarily breast milk these past 13 months and I'm finding that though I complained about how it limited my diet, at least I had piece of mind that he was safe when he ate. As we're getting more into solids, this whole thing seems to have ramped up a notch. If I made a mistake through breast milk, he developed a rash, sucky, but relatively easy to handle. If I make a mistake with what he puts in his mouth, we need strong medications and an ambulance. And this worry is without even entering the realm of what happens when he's under someone else's care, without me in shouting distance. Not approaching that area of angst until I need to.

So, I used to condemn the "Peanut Kid"...my class didn't have that many allergies when I was a child in school, actually. No peanut kids, but as I hear it, they are the ones that ruin PB&J at school for the rest of us (wink, wink). I always thought people were making too big of a deal of the whole thing. Now I feel the peanut kid's pain, and more, the pain of his parents, who can't watch over their baby's shoulder every second of their life and hope that that he doesn't share his friend's lunch, decide to experiment with the allergen one day, or eat something that a package didn't label the ingredients properly on. I mean cold cuts could have dairy...cold cuts?!? It has made shopping easy in one respect...I can't buy most of the stuff in the store. Produce I KNOW is safe. Most likely fish. But the rest...let's just say I have to do a lot of reading when I go shopping.

Daily management becomes easier as time goes on however where I'm going to lose my calm: Restaurants, Parties, and one day, school. We don't deal with them too much right now. And the few from the holiday season and subsequent eating out have given me a glimpse of the frustration to come.

2 babies, 1 camera

We watched Abby blog and it gave me the idea to recreate a meme not worth discussing if you don't know what this post is eluding to. Anyway, here ya go Melissa:

Table Blocks: A Drinking Game

What else does a new family do in northern CT, besides sitting around at home drinking? It's cheap, no baby sitter required, no packing up to go to "X", forgetting the all too important "Y" at home, and ultimately leaving early because baby is being too "Z".

So here's this developmental time's game. It's pretty easy:
Place blocks around a coffee table, let the baby loose to walk around the table, and replace the blocks before he can remove them all and realize you've replaced them. If you can't accomplish this small feat, then you, "Drink!"

Note: soft blocks ( like the ones he received for Christmas) are pretty important, especially when Baby is actually more like Babe Ruth. No babies were harmed in the development of this game.