Sunday, January 28, 2007

My sick brain

I saw a news story today that a man had escaped jail and hijacked Crystal Gayle's bus.

And my honest first thought was "Seriously, Crystal Gayle is still touring?"

Wednesday, January 17, 2007

Sleep Training, take two

Nate was really sick a few weeks ago and his sleeping got off-track. Our trip to New York this past weekend didn't help; he ended up sleeping in bed with us at night. Now we're home, and the hammer came down.

It is much harder this time than it was the first go-round. I was able to comfort myself last time with the understanding that nothing except the boob was going to comfort the little man. And it's true; if Stewart or I tried to rub his back, or hold and cuddle him, it just seriously pissed him off.

Now my mere presence can comfort him, and it's really hard to deny it to him. Plus I had the experience of him sleeping with us over the weekend, and it wasn't all bad. The sweetest part was when he'd claw his way into my arms, lay himself on top of me, and fall asleep on me.

Am I doing the right thing, having him in his own room? I was 100% sure before, but now I'm not. But I still think it's the lesser of two evils, so I stuck it out. He cried for about a half hour from 11 - 11:30, and that was it - woke up cheery at 7:15.

Will I regret this when I'm older, missing this sweet time with him? I might; I already do. I don't know. I'm making the decision that I hope is right, for him and for us. I know that's all I can do.

Friday, January 12, 2007

Babbling boy

Yesterday Nate said his first sentence: "More food." With all of that Wagner and Abbott in him, I'm not surprised.

His language has really snowballed. He tries to repeat everything we say. We're at that cliche point where we know what certain words mean but there's no way a stranger would know what he's saying. For posterity:

Words Nate Knows and Uses Appropriately:

Food - "Fffffffffff"
Milk - "Muh" (with the sign for milk)
Ball - "Bah!"
Dad - "Dah!"
Bye-bye - "Bye! Ba bye!"
Bumper (ie: Crib Bumper, love of his life) - "Buh bah"

Words Nate Can Repeat But Probably Doesn't Understand:

Baby - "Ba ba"
Water - "Wah woah"
Hi - "Ha!"

Yes, I'm proud.

Sunday, January 7, 2007

Monthly Newsletter, Month Sixteen

Dear Nate,

Disclaimer: I can this truthfully: every day with you is a joy. There are bad parts sometimes, these days lots of times, but it never even comes close to overshadowing the great parts. Every day I'm grateful to be able to stay home to take care of you; I just can't imagine missing the beautiful/ugly/silly things that make up our day.

That said, you're driving me crazy. You want to be held all the time. But I can't hold you and sit down, I have to hold you and stand and walk around. You weigh 27 pounds. You're killing me. And when I put you down, you burst into tears and scrabble at my legs for me to pick you up. This is the face I see about 10 times a day:

A few days ago you had a 45-minute tantrum, standing in the corner and crying, because I wouldn't pick you up. Nothing I did, short of picking you up (which wasn't happening) would soothe you; you charted a course and were determined to stick to it. This weekend I'll be picking up some books on "How to Handle your Willful Child Without Turning Him Into A Brat or (Conversely) Scarring Him For Life."

When you're doing something that you know you're not supposed to be, you continue to do the thing but you chant "No! No! No!" the whole time. The food is raining down from your highchair tray, the key is heading towards the electrical socket, "no, no, no, no!" It's helpful for me since you give yourself away; if I have my back turned I can still tell you're doing something wrong. It's also infuriating. Stop it.

About a week ago, your talking started snowballing. Every day is a new word. "Da da" is your most reliable - when Daddy comes home from work, I say "Who's there?" and you yell "Da!" When I ask you what your name is, you say "Nah!" You clap your hands on command and demand "ba!" whenever you want to be picked up.

Weirdly enough, coupled with the horrifying willfulness, you are turning into the sweetest boy on the planet. You love to run into my arms; my favorite is after Daddy gives you your bath, you run naked down the hall to me and I sweep you up. You have been known to put your head on my shoulder for actual minutes at a time. About 1/3 of the time we ask for one, you give us kisses. It's something, right?

We had fantastic holiday season. Grandma got you eight wonderful presents for Chanukah; my favorite is this adorable rain-slicker.

Aunt Susan went crazy and got you at least 8 presents at Christmas. She said she had so much fun buying for a boy, for a change! The girls doted on you and everyone admired your flexability, cheerfulness, and independence.

You are best entertained with a few random household items that you can manipulate. Today you spent 15 minutes stacking cans of beans on top of each other. I swear on my Father's fantasy football team that I did not assist, in any way, with the building of this bean tower:

Seriously, that tower simultaneously freaks me out, makes me giggle, and makes me think you're the most skilled baby/toddler/person I've ever heard of! Who else has a kid this coordinated? Nobody, that's who. If anyone has a suggestion of a job that corresponds to bean-can-stacking-ability, let me know.

You are all about fine motor control. You love it when Daddy leaves the tools out; it's like Heaven for you. Mama's not such a big fan, but Daddy promises he'll handle the hospital visit.

You also really like standing or sitting inside of things that don't seem, to me, like anything a person would want to sit or stand in. I don't really get it, but as long as you're happy I guess I am, too. Your love affair with the broom and dustpan continues, as all good affairs do.

But your greatest love affair of all, with Crib Bumper, seems to grow with every passing day. You wind it's ties through your fingers while you suck your thumb and gaze dreamily into the distance. When we let you take it out of your crib, you trail it behind you as you go. We often look over to find you lying on top of it on the floor, thumb in mouth and ties in hand. I truly hope this beautiful relationship never ends.

I love you more than you love Crib Bumper, Natey.

Friday, January 5, 2007

Counting my blessings

In these wild and wooley days of tantrums, wilfullness, demands, and whining, I want to count my blessings:

1) My husband, who comes home from work early whenever I ask him to and who gives me the day off, the entire day off, whenever I demand it, and

2) Long naps. He's at 2.5 hours now and still silent. Thanks be.