Dear First-Time Expectant Mom

My niece is having her first baby very soon, and I was thinking of something to write in the card for the baby shower. What I want to say seems a bit long-format for that particular venue, so I am going to write it here, and if you're an expectant mother (some of this might apply to fathers, too, but I haven't experienced that angle and don't feel confident to proffer advice), please please try to remember at least some of this. If you read it and take it seriously, it might make your first year of parenting easier (in a way that allll of the books can't and don't).

Dear First-Time Expectant Mom:

Congratulations! You almost made it through your pregnancy! You've no doubt thought about the ways in which your life is about to change. Maybe you've taken classes. Maybe you've read stuff. That's all good. Unfortunately, most of it doesn't do much to address the reality you're about to face.

In my experience, much of pregnancy prep deals with practical issues: Planning for birth, and then utilitarian things like feeding and diapering and other childcare issues. That's all important. However, they're not the most important. They feel huge, and they are huge, so this sounds insane. But I promise you, it's the truth.

Here are some things I never saw addressed during my pregnancy, but they actually are pretty vital, so I'll share them with you. One, so you'll know that you're not alone. Two, so you can rest assured that everything passes (and comes back... and passes again, etc.).

1) You know your life is about to change, but you cannot possibly anticipate how. With my first child, I could still go out to eat. I could go shopping, I could travel. I could mostly operate (on less sleep) as before, toting my easy-to-please child around. Yes, it was 9 months before I got a full night's sleep again, but everything else was pretty smooth. With my second, we couldn't do anything in public because he cried. And I'll let you know when I start getting a full night's sleep (for the record: it's been 3.5 years, and I think twice he's slept about 6 hours in a stretch).

The best way to "prepare" for this change is not to try to anticipate anything. Have no expectations, and be ready to go with the flow. Maybe you'll be one of those moms blithely pushing a cart with a sleeping baby around Target, but maybe you'll be the one riding your bike around the neighborhood in the 90-degree heat because that's the only time your kid isn't fussy. That kind of leads into the second point...

2) There will be moments of unprecedented joy and magic, to be sure. But there will also be times when you feel deep regret and wonder if you made a mistake. After my first trip to Target with my younger, I sat in the car and cried with him, after he'd screamed his newborn(ish) scream our entire time inside of the store. I thought, "We have made a huge mistake! We were almost free!" My older child was coming of the age where doing stuff with the parents isn't super cool, and the hands-on parenting finish line had been in view.

Babies, even good-natured babies, are hard. They need every literal thing. They are demanding, and they do not offer positive feedback for months. You only hear from them when they're uncomfortable or unhappy or bored. There's no "high five for anticipating that one, Mom" from them. Ever.

With my first, I remember crying at the first bout of baby hiccups. They hiccups themselves didn't bother me, but just regarding this tiny human, I thought, "Why did they let us bring this person home? We don't know what to do." And then once, a few months later, I looked upon a "safe haven" sign at an urgent care... one of those places where you can relinquish your child with no questions asked. I wondered, "Why don't they have a 24-hour program? I'd come back. I really would."

I think there's a lot of pressure to "cherish every moment." Especially if you went to extraordinary means to have a child, or if you adopted, or if you had several failed pregnancies before you had a baby. Under that pressure, those totally normal moments of grief for the life you might have had can lead to extreme guilt, and with pregnancy hormones (or post-adoption exhaustion, or whatever your situation might be), this can lead to a downward spiral to the tune of "I'm a terrible mom. I don't deserve to have this child." False. You're a normal mom. In a few minutes, or days, or years, you'll feel sorry for your former self for not knowing this amazing person. Just maybe not immediately. Which dove-tails into the third point...

3) Maternal love might not be instant. Have you read things to the tune of, "The first time I saw those precious eyes, my entire heart melted!" I have. In fact, recently I saw a picture of a friend's daughter that was taken shortly after her third child was born. In the picture was her, in the hospital bed, holding the baby; her husband; and their other two children. It was captioned, "We're already in love!" Very truthfully, my knee-jerk was, "Honestly? Already??"

After my first was born, the nurse showed me the baby, and my mental monologue went, "Huh." Seriously, my deepest thought was, "Well, that's a thing that just happened." A few days later, when we were looking at having to be readmitted to the hospital for jaundice and failure to thrive, I wept over that baby, pledging my undying love and protection for as long as I lived. But I don't think that's the same thing as affection.

For me, the maternal protection (sort of "mama bear" thing?) was instant, almost instinctual. But the love built over time, as love does.

(Incidentally, and this note is specifically for my niece, one reason I include this point is that Nan told me I was the first person she'd ever heard say out loud that I didn't feel a deep emotional connection to my child at birth. She'd felt the same way, apparently. We're in good company.)

4) There are a lot of "experts," but you're the expert of your child. People have lots of ideas about parenting, especially babies. All sorts of very strong beliefs about feeding (breast, formula, or a mix? child-led weaning? veggies first? 4 months? 6 months?), sleeping (bed-sharing? sleep training? naps?), scheduling (important? comforting? necessary? parent-led?), waste management (cloth? disposable? elimination communication?), training (set habits early? spoil a kid?), caring for your child (stay home? nanny? day care? preschool?). The advice can be overwhelming.

Knowing your options is great, and then knowing your family so you can make the best choice for you is the best thing. People won't always agree with your choices, and sometimes vocally. I've had homeschool mom friends who were reluctant to admit they'd put their kids in school lest they be looked down on by other homeschool moms. I've also had friends not admit they homeschool lest they be seen as "one of those moms." You can listen to well-meaning input as much as you want, then, by all means, kindly shut it down, saying something like, "Thank you for caring, but this is the best decision for our family right now."

Whatever you do, don't internalize it. There's a lot of fear that the wrong step might "ruin" your child. "If they go to daycare, they'll never bond properly with me as a primary care-giver!" "If I let them sleep with me, they'll never go into their own bed and they'll need therapy just to go to college!"

There was a podcast a few years ago on Freakonomics that bears a listen. The short version of what they found is: As a parent, it actually doesn't matter a whole lot what you do, in terms of reading to your kids or putting them in enrichment programs, or working full time, or staying home, or teaching them three languages as they grow up, etc. People basically turn out fine, regardless. That might sound defeating, like, "Why even bother?" but to me, it's extremely comforting. I have good intentions and might make some missteps, but my kids are not going to suffer inordinately because of them.

What these economists found is that people *do* remember whether or not their parents were kind to them, and that their ideas about drinking and smoking were affected by their parents. But, really, that's about it. So do your best, be kind to your kids, and don't turn them into emphysemic drunks.

5) "A mom has to take care of herself before she can take care of her kids." Can we just call BS on this right now? Granted, you need to eat food. And watch for signs of illness. But there are times, occasionally long stretches of time, when you simply cannot care much for yourself. Sometimes, you can't make yourself sleep when the baby sleeps because you have too much to do. There are times when you just want five minutes in your own quiet head, but your baby has a different idea, and you wonder about those moms who confess to using the restroom as a getaway, because whose kids respect a closed door? You will reach the point, once, twice, multiple times, where the thought occurs to you, "If I don't get XYZ soon" where XYZ is a full night's sleep, an afternoon with no responsibility, an entire meal eaten sitting down without holding a baby in your lap, etc., "then I'm going to lose my freaking mind."

The good news is: You won't. Not permanently, anyway. Yes, you'll forget commonplace words when you're trying to have a conversation. Yes, you'll feel like a zombie and wonder what happened to your energy. Yes, you'll cringe when Nana tells you that she just woke up from her second nap today... nope, sorry. That one's a bit too specific for the general public. But you get the idea. The good news is that the human body, especially mom's, is resilient in ways you never would have imagined.

One thing that really helps is to release the "I need" mentality. Or, worse, the "I deserve" one. As in: "I need at least seven hours of uninterrupted sleep." "I deserve a break!" "I can't survive without two hours to myself every day." Accept that you have a new normal and lean into it, finding rhythms that work for you and your child. It likely won't be ideal for either of you. For you, you now have an entire new human reliant on you for every single thing. From the baby's perspective, he was just somewhere all of his needs were met with no bright lights or scratchy clothes or loud noises and everything is overwhelming. But you can find a comfortable place. Together.

And that's another thing...

6) Always give your child the benefit of the doubt. You will, mark my words, think (or say out loud), "I just fed you and changed you and you got a bath and you're comfortable right now, so WHY ARE YOU CRYING?!" And you might even mentally, or verbally, add, "Are you TRYING to make me crazy?!" Because that's how it can feel.

Just remember what we said above about your child's former home. It was literally tailored to him and meeting his needs. Everything is new and scary and he needs your empathy and support, even when you feel like you've reached the end of your ability to provide it. You will never look back and wish you'd been more severe. As disconcerting as the sound of your baby crying is, it is the only means they have to communicate with you.

7) You can fight your baby's natural inclinations, or you can accommodate them. Your child might be awake from 4 AM to 6 AM. Every day. For months. You can spend that time saying, "Go back to sleep!" and trying to rock them, nurse them, and cajole them back to sleep, all the while becoming more frustrated and desperate, or you can figure out a way to make it work. Go to sleep at the ridiculously early hour of 7:30 PM. Take a short nap before heading to pick your child up at daycare. Drink lots of coffee. Use that time to play, to be present, to bond.

Back when my younger child cried 4+ hours per day for no discernible reason and with no apparent fix, someone encouraged me that during those most stressful times is when your bond with your child is forged the strongest. I didn't fully understand it at the time, and maybe I still don't. But I do know this: When that child is upset now, even with me, he will still cry in my arms. Is it because he knows, from the day he was born, that I don't run from his crying? I'm not sure. But guess what? I know it.

Same with your baby not being prone to napping, or only wanting to fall asleep in your arms, or never wanting to take a "full" feeding (whatever that is). Help your child learn to listen to his own body by taking his lead on these things when you can.

That old phrase, "You can lead a horse to water, but you wan't make him drink" applies to so much. When I hear a parent talk about how they spend half of their day trying to get their kid to sleep (a couple of hours at nap time and a couple at night), I just wonder, "Why?" There's a lot of pressure to "develop good habits early" or else. The implied threat is your child's inability to be disciplined or function normally, but that's a load of garbage. Most adults can sleep when they need to (absent medical or mental issues preventing it), sit at a table for an entire meal, etc.

Don't make your life difficult now because you're trying to insure against an imaginary future disaster that is not likely to happen.

8) Your child will inevitably bring about the most joy you will ever experience. He will also uncover your weaknesses and challenge you in ways that no parent, sibling, or romantic partner ever could. I'd never say, "Be grateful for the opportunity to grow" because I hate to hear that kind of garbage (and I don't want to get punched in the face). But I mention it so you can be on the lookout for it. When you feel the most strong resentment or frustration toward your little one, stop and ponder, "Why is this causing such a reaction in me? What is making me feel like this?" (And sometimes the real answer is simply "I'm beyond tired and have zero energy for myself, much less another human." Welcome to parenting!)

I've often said that having a kid forces you either to grow up or to be a lousy parent. It's your choice, and it's one you're going to have to make over and over again. Just know that a failure here and there doesn't mean you've messed it up irreparably.

Finally, I want to leave you with this assurance: I know a lot of moms. I know moms who stay home and make kid-raising their full time job. I know homeschooling moms who work full time and have a nanny. I know moms who've worked from the beginning so that their kids have grown up "in" daycare. I know moms who have done a combination of things as their lives have changed. And all of those kids know who their mom is, they love them dearly, and every one of us finds ways to make our relationships with our children the obvious priority. All of our kids feel this. They all know they are cherished. There is no one right way.

Do your thing. Accept help. Reach out. Be honest. Enjoy as much as your heart can handle, and don't feel guilty when you're bored senseless. Recognize that you can guide but you cannot control another human being, even a tiny one who needs you for everything. Rest assured that he will turn out all right.

Best of luck, and happiest of days.

With love,
Aunt Sister

Let's Talk

Mal was slow to the verbal game, but now that he's off and running... He seriously cracks me up every day.

Today, he was having me be "the horse." Okay, sidebar story: "The horse" is actually a beautiful giant white pegasus puppet. When D was little, we bought it on Amazon (before Prime) for a friend's birthday. It had been like $65 but was on sale for $5. I used to have a limit of $7 on any birthday gifts for D's friends, and I always managed to come up with some cool stuff. Anyhoo, the pegasus didn't get to us until after Ansley's birthday party, and we'd gotten her something else, but D loved the pegasus, anyway, so we kept it. And now Mal loves it.

So.

I was being "the horse" and Mal was showing her (Mal says she's a girl) around his room. He got to this toy boat he has for his (at this point theoretical) baths, and said, "Horsey, here's the door, and here's the steering wheel, and here are the stabilizers." Um, what? I'm pretty sure that's from Peppa Pig. And they're actually where you'd tie up to the dock, but I'm not correcting him.

Tonight, I defaced a $30+ pair of Hanna Andersson pajamas (I didn't pay full retail, though!) because Mal REALLY wanted to wear his "stars and Ms" PJs (Wonder Woman; look at the logo and think of it from his perspective, viewing it from above), but they're winter pajamas and we're looking at near-record heat from now until the earth ends, apparently. So I cut off the arms and the legs. It's not like he could have worn them this winter, anyway. He's growing like crazy.

Look at this! The picture on the left was a year ago today, and the one on the right was last Tuesday, I believe. Now, he has been wearing those shoes for a year, but they are almost too tight. The clothes he outgrew long ago.

Before James got home this evening, I put on makeup for the first time in a long time. He doesn't usually notice/care about that kind of thing, but I was feeling mehh and wanted to spruce up. A couple of hours later, we were all in Mal's room, James finishing up his dinner, when Mal came over to me to hug me and said, "Mommy, so beautiful! Wearing makeup!" Hey, at least one guy in this house notices.

He's a fun kid, and he likes to go out and do things, but he can also be a homebody. Several times, he'll ask to go somewhere (the pool, Nana and Pappy's, the library) and once we get all dressed and ready to go, he's on to his own other thing and acts affronted that I'd suggest we go anywhere.

Lately, he's taken to saying "I'm scared" when he doesn't want to do something. I have to be careful with this one, because I do want to be sensitive to any fear he has. But also, he says it about going places and doing things he loves.

He DOESN'T love taking baths, but today was the first time he's told me he was scared. That, I get. He thinks the water is too loud. So I'll need to start filling it up before he gets in. We need to do that tomorrow. He has dirt tracks down his legs. Seriously.

Although I don't think it's therapy-worthy, Mal definitely has some sensory quirks. He is weird about noises being "loud." HE is loud. Loud isn't what bothers him. It's unexpected or prolonged or something out of the ordinary that bothers him. He will often turn his tablet down so low there's no way he can hear the words. The "air kites" down by the lake make him nervous, and although they're likely loud if you're riding in them (paragliders with fans), they're by no means "loud" at our house.

Mal has this battery-operated "drill" that has been slowly winding down for weeks. Finally, Monday, it stopped working altogether, so I had to switch out the batteries. On and off for four hours, he cried about how it was "too loud! Make it quiet again!"

Also, if it's windy, he thinks it's cold and that we need jackets and hats and gloves and scarves. There's no convincing him that it's hot and windy. He will say "brrr" when the wind blows, even if it's 85 degrees and 75 percent humidity in the full sun.

So I try to pay attention to what he's actually experiencing and take it seriously as a mystery to be solved, because he's trying more and more to communicate how he wants things. It's exhausting but fun work!

An Adventure Missed

This afternoon, James and Mal walked outside to get a left-over sucker from the car. About 45 minutes later, James texted me that he thought The Natural Gardener was having some kind of party.

Apparently, he and Mal had wandered around the parking lot, following music that kept getting louder as they walked toward the back of the complex, and finally across the street. As it turns out, they were having a customer appreciation day. There was music, snacks, and free beer. Seriously.

They walked around a lot, they swung, and it sounds like a blast. I'm sorry I missed it. I kind of wanted to walk over and join them. But I get adventures with Mal all of the time, so this one was special, for him and his dad.

And, just as a bonus, here's another picture from our threesome adventure earlier today. Highly recommend the Seafood Shack at Hudson Bend.

Exhaustion

Can I tell you something? I was ready to go back to bed by the time my husband left for work this morning.

"You're taking him with you, right?" I asked as the grown male person grabbed his keys.

I love my son. I adore him. He's my favorite. But I'm tired. And I don't mean "we're still not sleeping through the night" tired (though that's a huge part of it). I mean complete physical and emotional exhaustion, and I don't see an end within sight.

First, a few months ago, Mal had gotten to the point where he was only waking 4-6 times per night (those of you who have children who, like my first, are great sleepers, will cringe at that "only," but it was a definite improvement). Some times, he'd sleep through from the time he went to bed at 9:45-10:30 until 2. Once, he even slept until 4. Now we're getting somewhere!

Then he started skipping naps. At first, a couple of days a week. Now, he might nap once a week, but his norm is not to. If he falls asleep in the car, he might catch 20 minutes or so, and that's preferable to nothing, but typically, he's just up from whenever he gets up (which was 6:15 yesterday, but is usually closer to 7) until he goes to bed at night.

When THAT is varies, too. Yesterday, he tried to drift off at 5:30, but 6:30 is really the earliest I feel comfortable letting him doze off. So I kept waking him. He ended up staying awake until 7:40.

The nice part of the early bedtime is my having a few moments to my own thoughts and pursuits after he goes to bed. The down side is that 3/4 of the time, instead of sleeping through a few hours, he sleeps a while, wakes up, needs help resettling, and it ends up being a 2-3 hour process, like taking a true nap before he settles in for nighttime sleep.

Last night, by the time the Presidential Debate was over, he'd awakened 3 times (once it was a matter of my putting him back to sleep, using the restroom, and as I was walking back into the living room to watch, he was already crying for me). I was so tired and frustrated, I ended up just going to bed at 9:30.

Then Mal was awake very often, more times than I care to count, but I'd guess 10-12 times before 5 AM, after which time he woke up any time he unlatched from nursing. So we nursed constantly from 5 until he was ready to get out of bed at 7:15.

Now you can understand why I don't feel rested most mornings.

And if he were groggy and slow to wake, we could muddle along together in the mornings. But that's never the case.

He jumps out of bed with an enthusiastic, "Eat!" or "B!" (computer) or "Pak!" (park). This morning, it was all three. And he cried when I was physically unable to produce food, log into the computer to pull up a video, AND make sure he could swing simultaneously, eight seconds after I'd first sat upright for the day.

I started a video for him and pulled some food together, then started James' coffee and toast and sausage, and Mal and I headed into his room. After a few, Mal wanted to read a book, which he brought me, sitting in my lap regardless of the fact that I, too, was eating.

I closed the laptop to read the book, but he didn't like that, so he abandoned the book and opened the laptop. After about 1/4 of a song, he got the book back and closed the laptop himself. I read the book and said I was going to go finish up James' breakfast, at which time Mal said, "Deedees!" (which is how he's referring to "nursies" this week, I guess).

So.

We nursed, and I got up. He came into the kitchen crying and demanding. He wanted his dad's breakfast, which was exactly the same as his. He wanted a frozen yogurt tube. He wanted an apple. He wanted juice. He wanted a spoonful of sugar. He wanted a carrot I was peeling for our slow cooker roast dinner.

He wanted to ride on his horse. He wanted to watch more videos. He wanted to sit in a different seat. He wanted to stand on the cabinet. He wanted me to put toothpaste on a toothbrush he'd found in a drawer in his bedroom.

I went and got him toothpaste, and he chewed on the toothbrush for a moment before throwing it down and coming back for more food. He looked in the freezer and didn't like what he saw. He wanted his dad's lunch.

Then he disappeared around the corner to our room and I got the dinner prep finished. I knew to be afraid of what I'd find in the bathroom, but I loaded the dishwasher and started it before I went into the other room.

Fortunately, he was just standing in James' sink, talking about brushing his teeth, and gumming up the mirrors (which I clean on Mondays, anyway). I got him down, and we went into the other room.

He wanted this. He wanted that. He wanted to go to the gym, and the trampoline park, and the park with the swing. And I'm exhausted; I don't want to go anywhere for a while. I want to go slowly. He wants James' guitar. Not the one that's out and that he can play with, but the electric one that's in a case and that, every time he gets out, he gets so mad and screams because he wants to do something with it that none of us understands.

He cries in frustration when he can't open the case by himself. He cries in frustration when his attempts to bring me the case don't work as it's wedged in behind a chair. Then he SCREAMS when I tell him we're not opening it right now, and set it back up.

As a distraction, I go into the bathroom to clean it. He follows me in there. He usually likes to wipe stuff down. This time, though, he decides he wants to use the toilet. While I'm cleaning it. And it's pretty nasty, so I tell him to let me finish cleaning it, then we'll use it (if we were actually potty training, I'd drop it and throw him up there). He doesn't like my idea and keeps trying to put the seat down on top of my hands.

Finally, I get him set up and he's actually pooped already, so I have to go get stuff to clean that up. Fortunately, he sits still for all of it, but then I have to reclean the toilet, anyway.

When I finish that up, he decides it's time to go somewhere. He asks me, "Pak. Opu?" "The park is open, but we're not going anywhere right now." He goes to the door and when I don't follow him, he cries.

I go back into the bathroom to get the rest of the cleaning stuff, and... it's quiet. When I return to the kitchen, Mal's up on the counter, heading toward the sugar. This time, I tell him that I'll just get him some sugar, which I do after I put him on the floor. Two teaspoons later, and he's no longer obsessed with the idea. Sometimes it's easier that way.

I see that he's once again scratched his face, so we head into his room to trim his nails (again) and have a nice few minutes playing with a teddy bear book his grandma made him.

Then he gets out a toy drill whose batteries are dying. I go get the mini-tool kit to open it up. AAA. Go back to get batteries, and when I get back into Mal's room, he's pulled every mini screwdriver, bit, and attachment out of the tool kit.

We get the drill back up and running, and by the time I get the tools reorganized, he's bored with the drill and wants something else. I don't remember what. But I remember his crying.


It's 10 o'clock and I am ready for lunch. I've thought about that a lot lately. One reason I think the calorie-tracking and cutting back is so not freaking fun for me is that I don't get many breaks (James did take Mal on several "adventures" this weekend, so I *do* get some down time, and I appreciate that), and eating food I really enjoy is that my taste buds can have a big old party, even if the rest of me just wants to crawl back into bed.

Oh, also, I'm on DAY TEN of my period. And this convergence of stuff is why I had pb&j trail mix, a Little Debbie bat brownie, and a Hostess cupcake for lunch. And, yes, I counted it all. I'll still be within my allotment. The cupcake was an accident. I meant to grab a brownie and grabbed the wrong thing. And, yes, I had to eat it. I didn't want to hurt its feelings.

I was doing something in the living room or kitchen or bathroom or something when Mal went into his room and after a few minutes started fussing. He came into the living room and was frustrated that he couldn't get the rest of the yogurt out of the tube on his own. I helped him, then went into his room knowing what I'd find. It wasn't as bad as I thought it might be, but I gotta remember to take messy food out of his room when I leave.

Anyway, at one point, Mal wanted some of my soda, which I gladly (kind of) offered to share. He got a bamboo straw, but I don't like the feel of that straw, and I didn't want it in my soda, so I got a silicone straw instead. That's typically what he uses, anyway, but because he hadn't picked it out this time, he was infuriated. He started screaming and crying --

(Aside: D showed me a video once, a game play-through. It's some horror game, and is supposed to be scary, but this one glitch makes the whole thing accidentally hilarious. Anyway, there's this dead baby ghost running through the house crying, and even when you can't see it, you can hear it. D said, "That's my life: a baby vaguely crying in the background." Guys, this kid cries A LOT. It's demoralizing. I get that it's how he communicates. I get it. But, still... it wears on a person after TWO YEARS.)

-- And I said, firmly, "You have to stop screaming because you're not getting your way!" I crouched down in front of him to take the straw, and was grabbing it rather roughly when I noticed his genuine tears. I said, "Mal, it doesn't always happen the way that you want it to happen. You have to learn how to be patient while we get things ready, and learn to appreciate things the way that they are. We're trying our best." Then I just sat there and kind of rubbed his back. He kept sobbing, but I could tell he was trying not to wail.

Eventually, I pulled him in for a hug, and he wrapped his arms around my neck and climbed into my lap.

When he felt better, he hopped up and ran into his room. I just sat there, crouched in the floor, absolutely no energy. He noticed, came back, and leaned in for another quick hug.

I think God gives me those moments to help recharge me; otherwise, I'd probably just lie in the fetal position some days.

James said this weekend, "I never thought I'd be a TV-babysitter dad." And he's not. But Mal likes to watch music videos (and, recently, PBS Kids, which is a nice change to the 20-something songs we've listened to over and over again for a year) and, frankly, at times it's the only way to divert his intensity away from demanding things of us. So we never suggest, "Let's watch some TV!" but if he asks for it, we almost never refuse him, unless we're trying to get out of the house for something.

It's how I was able to write this blog post.

Not sure this post has a point. Mostly whining. And now Mal wants "Deedees," so I have to go.

This is Mal's first superhero. He looked and looked and he wanted one with hair. :D

Some Baby Boy Anecdotes

See that kid? I spend about 28 hours a day with him, and he still amazes me.

His vocabulary is expanding, but even when he doesn't know or use the right word, his communication is pretty successful. Just like when he was a newborn, man, does he have opinions. And he expresses them all of the time.

Yesterday, when we were changing his diaper, he said, "Bye bye, poop!" and that was the first multi-word sentence he's ever said. If you prefer "Bye-bye, poop!" then it was his third or so two-word sentence. The one that he uses most frequently, almost as much as he used to say "babum" (praise all the sweet goodness in the universe that the Year of Babum has passed) is "habeet," which is to say, "Have it." This is how he lets us know he wants things, and he wants all of the things.

I'm pretty sure last weekend he said "my daddy," but that was one time and it might have been a stammer or something. Still, it was cute.

Mal is really big on possessions. He fiercely needs people to "habeet" if it belongs to them, to the point that he will cry and yell, "Bobby! Bobbby!" over and over if James uses my (I'm still Bobby) phone. This is one reason I couldn't let him see our van being permanently towed away this week. He got upset enough when the oil change dude drove it into the garage a month or so ago, and he really didn't like it when the tow guy hoisted it to take us all to Walmart to get the tire fixed a couple of weeks ago. So I knew he couldn't handle seeing Barney leave forever.

We've been driving James' old car all week, and still when we go outside and see it, he says, "Daddy." Yesterday I reminded him, "Well, yeah, but we're driving it now and Daddy's driving the new car." This morning, when we went out, he said, "Daddy," but then squatted down and pointed to the tire, saying, "Bobby." I guess he's giving it to me one piece at a time?

He knows which computer is whose. His Chromebook died last week (might have something to do with the fact that he took a cup of water from his water table and sprinkled it all over the keyboard), so we got the Macbook that I bought about six years ago and that D used when I switched over to a PC so I could work from home. D hasn't used the laptop in a couple of years, maybe almost three. But she did recently get her own Macbook, and as little time as Mal spends in her room, he figured that out, too.

I got the old Macbook out and he said, "D." I said, "Well, yes, D has one like it, but this is a different one." Then he said, "Daddy." I started to correct him, because James has a Dell. Then I remembered that James' work laptop is a Mac, and he's brought it home a few times. Mal's pretty observant.

He was upset enough about the Chromebook that I finally hid it yesterday. We've been waiting to see if it will dry out and work, but it's quirky. So now, he makes sure before he asks to use the Mac. "Works," he'll nod. Yes, that one works.

We went to the park today, and he was talking about everything. His swing was yellow. The other swings were blue. "Push." Oh, my goodness, he says "push" a billion times when we're at the park. Like even while I'm pushing him. I'd forgotten what demanding little boogers kids are before they can pump themselves.

Mal has used the potty several times lately, when he's asked to sit down or we've just sat him on it. He strains like he wants to poop, but never has (according to a blog post I read yesterday, D did for the first time the day after her second birthday). He knows when he's getting ready to go/going/gone, though. He will still say, "Poop!" or sign it right after, and increasingly he doesn't fight when we want to change his diaper. He's ready to get out of that, unless he's having a lot of fun.

The other day, I was making dinner while he was watching videos, and he'd pulled his diaper down around his knees. Thank goodness he didn't decide to sit anywhere.

It would seem that Mal might be leaving his nap behind, which will be fine if he can hold it together the second half of the day, but is sometimes being quite the challenge.

First of all, I have to say: We bought a car on Saturday, and he held tough the whole three hours we were there. Oh! We were treated so well at Onion Creek Volkswagen, too, I should give them a shout-out. It was taking the financing stuff a while to process, so I asked James if there was any reason we couldn't go get lunch and come back. He asked the finance guy, who then invited us to their staff break room to eat Chicken Express with them. It was awkward but delicious.

Anyway, Mal kind of napped on the way home, but that was it for Saturday. He didn't nap much last week, which tends to put his bedtime to 7-7:30 PM. It's better than him being awake until 10:30 (which can happen if he gets a long nap... and he is HARD to wake up, ironically), but, again, only if he's not spending the hours from about 4:30 PM until then crying about everything.

Yesterday was sort of perfect. We had a nice quiet morning, we went to the store to get him some watermelon, then to the gym, then to Trader Joe's for all things pumpkin, and he fell asleep on the way home. He ended up napping for a couple of hours, and we went to the park for a bit after his nap. He didn't even think of asking for videos until after dinner, then he watched for about an hour, and at 9:25 asked me to come lie down with him and "shushies," which is how he's saying "nursies" now. He's never said anything before except "babum," doing the sign, and sometimes "lala," which tends to mean "the other one."

Anyway, he was asleep within ten minutes. Nice night.

Today, he was exhausted most of the day. We went to the park this morning, and he wasn't ready to go after an hour and a half, but it was starting to get hot (again. Thanks, ATX, you big tease). He asked for French fries, so we went to McDonald's and hung out a while so he could eat. I realized that if he's focused on fries, he'll sit still a long time.

Here he is, waving because I was taking the picture to send James and told him, "Tell Daddy, 'hi!'"

Of course, later he got up, then sat back down, the wanted me to get him, and he put his foot into the ketchup and it was a big mess and ketchup smells AWFUL when it gets on skin but whatever. We lived.

After that, he wanted to go to the gym. Actually, I think he wanted to go to the trampoline park, for which my sister gave him a gift card but James happened to have it at that moment. Then when we got to the gym and he realized we weren't back at a place where he could swing ("deem"), he cried and cried and cried. I got him out of the car, anyway, but he wanted me to hold him. I put him down to get his bag out of the car, and he was so distraught, I decided, "Nope," packed him back in, and just came home.

He wound down a little here, nursing often and watching about an hour's worth of videos. Then we played in his room, and he would get so upset about... well, everything. Then nurse some more. Ad infinitum from about 1:30 until 6. Fortunately, he got a second wind about 6, and was in a pretty good mood for James when James got home from work.

Mal ended up going to bed a bit before 8, not as a basket case, but just a tired little boy. He still needs that midday nap, but I don't have the tools to help him unwind, so he'll start to nod off, then get up and re-energize, even when he's weepy and clumsy and miserable.

One more exciting thing: Mal is starting to eat more, in terms of quantity and of variety. When we went to Trader Joe's yesterday, they were sampling pumpkin waffles (we knew he liked frozen waffles: one day I walked into my bedroom and he was sitting on the bed chomping on a waffle he'd pulled out of the box he'd just taken out of the freezer without my noticing) with pumpkin cream cheese, and he loved those, so I bought them. They were also sampling their ghost and bat potato crisps with spinach cream cheese dip, and he liked THAT, so it was a sale, too.

Tonight, he ate some pumpkin ravioli, an orange, and chips and dip for dinner. Before that, he'd had a Mamma Chia pouch, half an apple, a few veggie nuggets, French fries, some goldfish, and a few M&Ms for lunch and snack. And he had a pumpkin waffle with cream cheese and a slice of Dave's Killer Bread with butter for breakfast. This is in addition to "shushies" allllll dang day.

Oh, yeah... I was so excited about the awesome hoodie I got Mal at the Hanna Andersson opening. Then I went to hang it up after I'd washed it and realized: I'd bought him two hoodies at Once Upon a Child already! Oh well, the one from HA is lined and much warmer, almost like a proper coat. Maybe he can wear it at least once or twice here in Austin.

Gratitude, a Struggle

Typically, I am an easily-thankful person. I recognize blessings, angels in disguise, general good fortune, what-have-you. But, today, guys, I had an internal issue.

Today, my husband was going to hang out with our toddler son so that I could take our teenage daughter out for lunch. We haven't been out or even at home alone together in months (I don't think a trip to the doctor's office for lab work really counts), and we were both looking forward to it.

So, this morning, as I was getting ready, I found myself overflowing with gratitude toward my husband for his "willingness" to hang out with a sweet little kid who can, admittedly, be a handful, especially if he's not happy, and especially especially if he's not happy about being unhappy that I'm not around.

I know, looking at this picture, you'd not believe he could have an off moment, right?

So my issue was this: When I realized how EXTREMELY thankful I was to my husband, and I realized that in my thanking him, I was almost treating it like he was doing me a huge favor, I started to get mad at myself. After all, he's the child's dad. He SHOULD do stuff with him. Alone, even.

Then I felt like a jerk for second-guessing my gratitude. Then I felt kind of resentful that I honestly did feel like my husband was doing me a solid on a pretty big scale to be "game" to try to occupy the boy for a couple of hours.

Meanwhile, my husband never treats it like he's "helping out," but he does, I can tell, kind of get a little pre-freaked-out about being alone with our son. Then, of course, he does fine, and it's all good. So everything in my mind is just that: in my mind. But I was thinking, even before I went, that James would be worn out after this, and that I'd probably need to let him rest after (he *did* take a nap).

And that's when it's the worst kind of struggle, because I don't want to think, "Must be nice! I never get a nap!" as 1) I'm not a martyr and 2) we've made it a deal that we won't try to compete over who works hardest/is the most tired, etc.

All of this to say, I did thank him several times for... see? I was going to say "letting" me have some alone time with the teen, but that makes me roll my eyes. Do you see what I mean? I can't even write this blog post because it's making my head hurt.

I have a great husband. Let's leave it at that. His wife? Maybe less awesome. Maybe. Just a little.

Bedsharing and Illness

I'm going to answer a question literally no one has asked, but I'm sure it's only because people are too polite to ask. Well, or they don't care. Either way, it's my blog, so I'm going to answer this hypothetical question and you can read it or don't, but let me assure you: There are pictures.

Okay, so here we go...

Mal has been sick a very few times in his little life. Since we moved into the apartment, he's gotten ill two or three times where he will be physically ill several times during the night, and otherwise seem fine.

Yesterday was one of those times. He, James, and I were up at the clubhouse when Mal gagged and threw up. We calmed him down, cleaned it up, and came back home. He was fine for a while, but then ended up being sick two more times before he went to sleep (early, for him).

As you know, he still nurses a lot, and we cosleep, specifically bed-sharing. So how do you handle bed-sharing with a barfy kid? We learned some tricks the first time he got sick, and now we have it down to an inelegant science.

First of all, our bed already has a waterproof mattress cover (from the days when he'd drink SO MUCH at night, he'd overfill his diaper; that hasn't happened in months, knock on proverbial wood) and a fitted sheet. On top of that, I put a couple of blankets. Like this:

The blankets are only on one side, because James sleeps on the outside, and he is a HARD sleeper, so it's easier if we can fix things without waking him up. Which we can, for the most part. Except this next step, if it comes to that...

On top of the other stuff, I put ANOTHER fitted sheet, cover the pillows with a towel, and then place a towel where Mal is most likely to lie down.

Finally, we do the halfsies on sheets, too, and have a spare waiting, if necessary. We also have a stack of spare towels waiting.

So, last night, when Mal would wake up, I'd pull the towel up kind of between his legs and hold the end of it to his mouth. I'd catch what I could (it wasn't a lot; he hadn't eaten much and what he had eaten was already gone), and then hope that the towel caught what I missed. Then I'd wipe Mal down with a diaper wipe and hold him while James changed out the towel for a new one. This happened three times.

The fourth time it happened, James didn't wake up, but switching the towel out myself isn't a big deal.

The fifth time it happened, I messed up! Mal woke up asking, for the third time that night, for "deeda... draw" (which is to say "soda, straw"). I'd put him off before, saying, "Okay, we'll get some later." But when I tried to put him off again this time, he repeated his request, and I could hear how dry his mouth was. My mistake was not remembering that he was waking up to be sick, which he had not done yet. Oh, but it was in the works. Had I waited and THEN given him soda, all would have been fine. Instead, I held the straw to his lips, he drank a couple of swallows, then, without warning: EXPLOSION! (I'm letting a soda flatten right now, so if he has the same request tonight, I'll wait him out and then comply.)

So we DID end up having to take off the second fitted sheet, and he slept on the two blankets, which ended the night unscathed.

There are definitely things I don't like about bedsharing. Like, you know, that there's a move-around-y kid in my bed, and I'm a light sleeper. But there are benefits (like not having to get up to resettle him, which is more often than not VERY frequently throughout the night), and, honestly, when they're sick is one time that it's so much easier.

Today, I was reading an article about why kids' fevers spike at night, and it started with: "It started around 1 A.M. My son was 14 months old, and the noises coming from his room didn't seem completely human: There was a sort of honking bark followed by a whistle-y kind of breathing... I ran into his room, my heart racing with worry, and I found him sitting up in his crib, looking scared and tired."

I don't have to do that. The second Mal wakes up, I'm awake. I can't prevent him from being sick, but I can hold him while he's sick. I can reassure him from the instant he's uncomfortable. There's no lag time. Mommy's here. It's not great, but it's going to be okay.

Later in the article was this: "I put him back in his crib, and he slept through the night. I, on the other hand, kept checking in on him every hour or so, but that's what mothers do." Nope, it's not what I do. I sleep. I sleep confidently, knowing that if there's a problem, I'll wake up because he's right there.

James had said, before we went to bed last night, "We'll need to make sure he doesn't sleep on his back." Well, you can't do that with a toddler. But I didn't have to worry about him drowning in his own sick or anything horrid like that that mothers can imagine, because I was able to sit him up literally every time he started that tell-tale cough.

With our set-up, we are able to rid of things and get back to sleep quickly, which is good for all of us. Yay, sleep. Even sleep with a hot ninja ramming a heel into your bladder at 2:30 AM. It's what works for now.

On Boobies and Babies and Bungles, Our Saturday

First, I want to tell you something: I believe in personal choice, parental choice, family freedom, and individual responsibility. A lot. So I'm going to tell you what I did this morning, and some of it is associated with the World Breastfeeding Week, designed to "normalize" breastfeeding. I want you to know what that means to me, then I'll get on with the crazy half day I had.

I've mentioned often that I formula-fed my first child. I'd planned to breastfeed, but it wasn't working and they were threatening to put her back in the hospital, and she took to a bottle so fast, then remained awake and alert for like half an hour, the longest she'd stayed awake in the four or five days since she'd been born, and I was so relieved that I just fed her with bottles from there on out. I was called several times by people I'm sure meant well, but I felt an incredible pressure that I wasn't doing things "right," and it made me angry. The people telling me I could still do it the "breast" way hadn't been there in the panicked hours when I thought I might have to take drastic measures just to make sure my kid thrived. Now she was doing well, and I was not going to change anything. I just wanted to get on with our lives with our healthy kid.

So, please believe me that if I'd exercised my rights to decide and wanted to bottle-feed my second from the get-go (and, believe me, there are days...), I'd totally to go a "Formula's F**ing Fine!" feed-in, too!

Here's the stupid/weird part: Women ARE encouraged to breastfeed, to the point of formula shaming. When their baby is small. But somewhere between 6 months to a year, the pendulum swings swiftly to the other side, and you need to get that kid off of your boob! He's going to need therapy! Freak.

To me, celebrating choices is about just that: celebrating that I have the personal liberty to do a thing, and I appreciate that. I don't assume that any of my choices (in respect to parenting, faith, finances, etc.) are superior to anyone else's. So please don't think that. I support you. Unless you're a jerk to your kids. I don't support that.

So, anyway, on to my morning:

It started by my discovery that the cream I'd had turning magically into clotted cream overnight... hadn't. I don't know whether it was because the cream was ultra-pasteurized (it didn't say so on the label), or because my oven runs cool so it wasn't actually 180 degrees and never scalded the cream. Whatever, I'd wasted 12 hours at 180 and an entire quart of cream. Oh well.

Next. Mal got up and we were getting ready to go downtown to hit Voodoo Doughnut before we went to a toy store for The Global Big Latch On as a part of World Breastfeeding Week. When we went the first time, we got there around 8:30 and the place was dead. Today, we got there around 9, and there was only one parking spot in front of the building. Unfortunately, someone was double parked by the car in front of the spot, so I couldn't line up to parallel park. I tried a couple of times, then angrily realized I'd have to take the block and figure something else out. When I pulled around the vehicle, I saw that there were people in the car waiting! Aargh! I know they saw me (and the person before me) try MULTIPLE times to back into the space even with them in the way. They could have pulled up or driven around the block. Rude.

I found a spot a couple of blocks away, got Mal in the stroller, and we headed over. This time, unlike last time, there was a line. We waited about 15 minutes, and were at the front. Ish. There were two parties in front of us, and one at the register. The one at the register was taking forever. They must have ordered 2 dozen and a bunch of coffees. It was another good 10 minutes, and I was starting to panic that we were going to be late, even though I'd originally given us almost an hour for the doughnut stop!

Finally, they opened two more registers, I strapped Mal back into the stroller before I ordered, explained to him that we were going to have to RUN back to the van and eat our doughnuts there, and even then I forgot to get one of the doughnuts I wanted to bring back to share with James. Oh well.

We trotted back to the car, where my awesome little kiddo climbed up into his car seat and waited for me to buckle him in while I stowed the stroller and then handed him as much of a doughnut as I was willing to trust him with.

We drove over to Enlightened Baby (super snooty name, very awesome store) and got there just a bit before ten. We finished our doughnuts and headed in, as we'd received a couple of reminders to be there by 10 o'clock so we could sign in and be counted. As it turns out, they were just getting set up and we could have waited 15-20 minutes. But whatever. Mal loved looking around the store, and we bought their last set of silicone straws. Mal adores drinking out of whatever we're drinking out of, and he's taken to saying, "traw" and trying to pull random items out of the silverware drawer, so now he has a stash.

There were probably 20-30 moms there with babies ranging in age from pretty new (4 weeks?) to a little older-looking than Mal (but he's so big, it's difficult to tell). We all latched on at around 10:30, and they counted us, and... um, I got a free t-shirt, and I bought another one. So. Yeah.

About 30 moms. I was sitting near two or three. It seemed like there were several groups there, like maybe from birth month mom groups or something? The ones who weren't obviously friends/acquaintances of the store owner were talking to each other in smallish packs, and seemed to know each other's kids. I tried talking to a couple of women while we waited, but it just wasn't happening. I really hate that. It's exhausting, but I try sometimes. I just don't know how to connect with other women, I guess. So my commiseration, light-hearted take on something, or explanation of why I had brought doughnuts in (they were in disguise, but I think a kid smelled them) were all met with polite smiles before looking away and connecting with other people. Pppth.

After the sort of anti-climactic count, we headed right out. Mal was in a good mood, so I decided to press my luck and go to the mall for a quick return. We'd bought James a pair of Crocs online, and those are the first shoes I've gotten from them that are just uncomfortable! They also don't fit right. They're weird. I can mail them back, but they forgot to include the return shipping label, so I was going to have to print one out... and decided just to take my 20% off coupon and enjoy tax-free weekend whilst also returning the shoes.

We got to the mall, and I once again got Mal's stroller out so he could ride in style. We walked through Macy's toward the center of the mall, and I see this "coming soon!" boarded-up store where I expect to see a Crocs store. Well... apparently, the Crocs store at the mall CLOSED and I'm at the mall for no reason. On a Saturday. When the parking lot is full because of a farmer's market. Seriously.

So I tell Mal, "Well, let me go to the bathroom, and then we'll get some soda." He's still being an awesome trooper.

As per usual, the family bathroom is either in use or just locked out of spite. Since Mal was born, I have never once used a family bathroom because they are always locked. I don't think they really exist. They are just doors put there to give me false hope.

We go into the women's room, and all of the stalls are taken but one. I get Mal's stroller mostly in there, but because I have a big bag with useless Crocs in it hanging off of the back of the stroller, I can't close the door. Also, there's no hook to hang my purse or this giant bag. So I decide just to wedge him in and do my business with the door open. We're all ladies here, right? Stupid bathrooms.

There's a long line at Chick-fil-A, where I could get a free soda because of my calendar card. Instead, we walk out of the noisy food court and over to Auntie Anne's pretzels. Nothing looks good, food-wise, and so I just order a large Diet Coke with very little ice.

Um, it's disgusting. It tastes watered down. I let Mal drink some because he's very thirsty, and I let the next people in line order, then I tell the lady that the soda tastes like maybe they need to switch out the syrup. She tells some dude, and he tests a little of the Diet Coke himself. He then tests the Dr. Pepper. He then tests the Root Beer. He seems to think everything is fine. "Would you like something else to drink?" he asks. NO.

And he gives me back my money with his apologies.

OKAY, I GUESS WE'LL JUST GO HOME THEN. THANK YOU FOR NOTHING, BARTON SQUARE MALL.

Back out to the car. Have I mentioned that my son was an amazing kid today? I told him as much on the walk back outside. He threatened to drift off to sleep about 2 minutes from home, but it was only 11:30 (as much as it felt like 3 PM!), so I asked, "Mal! Are you going to tell Daddy about that disgusting soda we got?" And Mal said, "Blech!"

Here's where his sensitivities to stimuli come into play: As good as he was when we were out, it overwhelmed him and he was a wreck about every single thing once we got home, until he took his hour long nap which just ended. Hopefully we have a more chill evening!

The best thing about the day: my boy. Hands down.

Closing in on Two

We're in the final stretch of Mal's second year, and it seems like every day, he surprises us with something new.

He's still "behind" where he "should" be, verbally, if you go in for that sort of thing, which we don't. He communicates a lot with sign, and I understand what he means when he tries to talk, as long as there is some context. For instance, on the patio "mo-ee beebah" means "more bubbles." In the living room, "dee-dah" means "guitar." But in the bathroom, "dee-dah" means vitamins (which he calls "fruit snacks," which is also something that "dee-dah" means).

As, or perhaps, more importantly, he understands *everything*.

A couple of days ago, Mal was in the stroller as my sister and I were walking up a trail and chatting. She'd just helped me up a steep ravine and said it reminded her of being in China and getting the boys around. She mentioned reading her blogs from the time and remembering how much she just wanted to be home, because the kids were so new, and they were all so tired, and it was so hot (kind of like here, now), and everybody was staring at them. I said, "I get it on some level. I feel it on some level when we're just out and about and I don't think I can chase him down anymore. I want to go home, because at least there, I'm comfortable and the worst he can do is climb up on the cabinets--" "DIE!" Mal interrupted cheerfully. "That's right, Mal, you could die." It looks like that lesson is sticking, though I don't think he's taking it very seriously.

He also got onto one of the cats the other day when she hopped up onto the kitchen counter. "Die!" he warned her. She was nonplussed.

The other night, he cracked me up because I was sitting in his room playing with him, and I was having a protracted, though mild, asthma attack. I told him, "Mal, I'm going to have to go take a breathing treatment." He sucked up a lot of air and made an "o" shape with his mouth, laboring to breathe in and out. Um, I hope that's not how I look when I"m medicating, but it was very cute on him.

Today, he did several things that were funny.

We had gotten into the car to run to the office to switch our our gate remotes (yes, after ONE YEAR, it looks like they're fixing the gates), so I let him ride up front with me (save your comments; it's a private road and everyone else was at work). I was putting on some lipstick and Mal had already sat down and put on his seatbelt. I was listening to NPR's recap of the DNC last night, and some of the President's speech. Just as he got to a good part, Mal wriggled out of the seat belt, leaned forward, and pushed a button. The first channel was music, that's what he wanted, so he sat back, satisfied. 

I let him have his choice, then backed up to go. Mal kept saying, pretty agitatedly, "Bee bat, bee bat." I looked and he was pointing to my hip. I said, "Oh! I need to put on my seat belt!" He nodded and stopped as soon as I clicked in. What a sweet reminder.

Inside the office, he got a Jolly Rancher. I walked him around to where there's a trash can and said, "Let's throw away your wrapper." He dropped it on the ground. I said, "No, not on the ground. Please put it in the trash can." He picked it up, came around the corner, and put it in the can. The assistant manager was impressed, but he shouldn't have been. At home, Mal will pick up cat hair and trash, open the pantry, lift the trash can lid, and throw trash away all by himself.

After the office, I put him in his car seat (so you can relax now) and we went to his gym. He was jumping on the trampoline, and I noticed that his hair was kind of clumping together on top. He'd eaten a lollipop yesterday, and I'd noticed he'd gotten some of the sticky in his hair. I said, "Mal, we're going to have to wash your hair today. It's really yucky." He nodded, hopped down, went into the bathroom, got his hands wet, and threw water up onto his head, rubbing it in. Man, that kid is on top of things!

The nodding/head-shaking thing is such a great improvement over not knowing until we tried. In the past week, he's also added a strong, "No!" to his head-shaking, when something's really important.

He'll sign "poop" to me when he's pooped and wants to change his diaper. He'll sign "poop" and shake his head no when he's pooped and doesn't want to change his diaper.

Mal has been playing with Starfall for a while now, and he's getting old enough to appreciate some of the stories. There is one part at the beginning of Zac the Rat where Zac hums. It's just a silly little tune, but it used to crack D up so much that we'd watch it over and over again. Guess what? It has the same effect now on Mal!

This, to me, is the fun part of parenting. I don't miss the baby days. I don't miss the pre-semi-verbal and/or signing days. I like being able to interact with my kid and watch him develop into the person he's going to be.

In case you're interested, he still doesn't sleep through the night. He actually slept six hours in one stretch two nights ago, and it was the longest he's done in 22 months. I got about 4 and a half hours of sleep, so that was great. Otherwise, he sleeps 2-4 hours when he first goes down, then wakes multiple times per night after that. Whatever. We're used to it. He sleeps with us, so it's easy enough to get him back to sleep.

I find I keep buying more nursing clothes, because that doesn't seem to be likely to stop any time in the near future. I am letting him lead the way, and he's still very much a "boob monster."

He has started doing something different with his nighttime routine (but not the nap time, which is interesting). At night, he'll nurse, then unlatch and roll over, or crawl to the foot of the bed, get comfy, and then go the rest of the way to sleep. Last night, he did something new. He nursed, unlatched, played with this Melissa and Doug peekaboo panda for a few minutes, laid it down, rolled over, and went to sleep.

One of these things is not like the other

Sunday morning, I had Mal in the cry room at church, and he did something for the first time... He went over to the big wooden rocker and pointed to it. I said, "Chair," and did the sign. Then he pointed at the 70's wrap-around mint green cushioned rocker. "Chair," and the sign. Then he walked over to the chair that's part of a set you link together to form rows. "Chair," sign. He pointed to the leather office chair I was sitting in. "Chair," sign. Then he went to the little plastic kid's chair. "Chair," sign." Then he came back to where I was sitting, pointed to the table between my chair and the row chair, and shook his head, "No." I said, "You're right! That is NOT a chair!"

Since then, he's done it with several things. He will point to James' chin and James will say, "Beard." Then he'll point to his own chin and shake his head, "No." Same with me (for now, anyway; menopause is calling).

When we went to the airport to pick up his Grandma yesterday, Mal pointed to her black shoes and made the sign for "shoes" himself. Then he pointed to my shoes and did the same thing. Then his own. THEN he got to the stuffed dinosaur Grandma had brought. He pointed to the dino's feet and shook his head. "Right, the dinosaur does not have shoes."

He's also taken to hugging randos. Fortunately, they've all been kids, but we're trying to figure out a good way to teach him boundaries. Today at the gym, he put his arm around a little girl in a kind of side hug that would have been cute if they'd been facing the same direction. As it was, she was facing opposite him, and it kind of looked like he was trying to choke her. After the "hug," he leaned in for her to kiss his head. She had no idea what to do with that.

I was going to write more, but Mal's nap lasted about 20.5 seconds today.

Oh! Speaking of which... I didn't want to say anything earlier, but it might be a thing now. Mal's been sleeping 4-6 hours at night before his first wake-up! He's been sleeping until just after 2 or just before 4 the past 4 nights. This gives me hope that I might be able to have more time to chat with D at night, not having to listen for Mal to wake up so I can put him back to sleep.

I really thought that when he slept more, I'd sleep more and be more well-rested. What's happened instead is that he has A LOT MORE ENERGY. This is not fair. A trade-off, I guess.

Unschooling Preschool

Whole-life unschooling wasn't a philosophy that was on my radar when D was small, but I realize now that a lot of its tenets came naturally to me. Now, with Mal, I use them with intention, going even further to eschew the sort of "teachy/educational" videos aimed at littles. I mean, he likes the Starfall website, and many of the "Little Baby Bum" videos talk about colors and shapes and stuff, but I don't make him watch anything he doesn't want to. Often, we forward through the videos that start out with an over-enthusiastic, "Want to count from 1 to 100 by tens?! Let's go!!" No. Shut it.

Anyway, one thing that is consistent (more or less, as much as can be with a toddler) between when D was little and now with Mal is that we have "morning sessions" and "afternoon sessions" in their rooms. I mean, I go in there with them, sit down, and let them set the tone for what we do.

Mal might pull out a book for me to read, I might get four pages in, and then he might decide that he wants to go pretend to cook on his stove. I never insist that we finish the book we started; I just let him do what he wants and help him when he needs help.

Full disclosure: For me, it's a discipline thing, but I try very hard not to take my phone in his room during these times unless I'm expecting a time-sensitive message (like from my Instacart shopper or a visitor). I want to be present for these particular times.

Mal likes to pull every bit of "food" out of his refrigerator and talk about it: What it is, what color it is, whether he likes it or not. I very rarely ask, "What color is that?" And if I ask but he doesn't answer or doesn't answer correctly, whatever. I'm mostly just making conversation. Sometimes he wants to pretend to cook stuff, and if I try to pretend to eat it before it's cool, he'll be shocked and remind me that it's hot. 

Sometimes, Mal wants to get the really big stuffed Pegasus or Hagrid and Fluffy out of his closet. Other times, he plays with his drill and screwdriver set. Or the Playmobil RV with the bicycles and the tiny flatware. He often "cuts himself" with the itty bitty knife, much to his own amusement.

There might be a time when I pull out a ball and ask him if he wants to catch it, but if that's not on his mind, I never make him do anything during these play times. They're his time, and I do what he wants. 

When I was in my 20s, I worked with a boy who had Autism, and his mom had tried everything, including painful shots. Her last best hope was this kind of Playtime Therapy that involved just sitting in the floor with her child and letting him pick what to do, then using those things to interact with him. It never occurred to me until recently that it's very close to what I'm doing with my own kid.

Obviously, there are times in the day when I need to do things: chores, personal care, errands, etc. Mal is usually right there beside me. He loves to sweep (really, Swiffer... but NEVER with the cloth on; it is an abomination unto him). He most of the time makes things more difficult when he "helps" this way, but it's important to let him learn and feel a part. He also likes to shake open trash bags, and is actually really great at bringing the liners from our bathroom trash cans out to the bigger trash can.

When we go out, there are times when we're on a schedule or in a hurry, and I have to get all bossy and demanding, but if we're not in a time crunch, I try to let him have the leisure to explore things. For instance, very often, when we go to the gym, he wants to go behind the building and look at the air conditioners. Or he'll want to sweep the snack area, which is not why we're paying $20 a month, but as long as no one's over there, I usually let him (if there are people, I don't, because concussions, and this usually results in much sadness from the boy).

"Yes, I know there's a playground over there,
but this dude outside is riding a loud monster that eats grass! It's AMAZING!"

A big part of the unschooling philosophy is just mindfulness and being in the moment. And this is what was intuitive for me when D was little. We might plan a trip to the zoo and spend three hours with the birds, an hour in front of the lions, another hour in the gift shop. and then go home. If there was something I especially wanted to do or see, we did. But otherwise, there was never an expectation of exactly what any experience needed to look like from the outset.

I'd feel sorry for the kids (we went to a lot of homeschool day events, and a LOT of homeschoolers are super married to curricula and timetables and wringing the dang educational value out of every second) who would amble up to the otter display, get to watch one cute thing and be totally enthralled, then have a parent bark at them, "Okay! Let's go! Come ON!" Even though it was clear they could have watched those things for fifteen minutes. Poor kids barely had the time to write down a note about the otters in their mandatory binder they had to carry to prove they were at school and not just having frivolous fun.

So, with Mal, it's more of the same, only we don't spend time "singing" the alphabet or purposefully "studying" colors or anything like that. What's neat is that, even without my introducing it, he wants to know, and he asks. And when he stops asking, I stop telling him.

Although we went from relaxed eclectic homeschoolers to unschoolers to radical unschoolers over the course of D's lifetime, it'll be interesting to see how it goes with Mal, doing this from the start. Of course, we'll probably change things up, tweaking them as we go, just like everyone does.

It's interesting: As we've looked at housing and considered leaving options open in regard to a Sudbury (un)school or a Waldorf school, something hit me in the feels the other day: When Mal brought me a book and sat down in my lap for me to read it. I just remembered all of the times D did this until she was 7 or 8, and really we only stopped my reading aloud much when she became voracious about wanting to hear literature to the tune of 4 hours per day or more, so we switched over to audiobooks. And I realized that no matter where we might send Mal, he probably won't have that luxury in any school environment (except maybe at the Sudbury school, he could get an older kid to read to him if he were charming enough), and it made me think we need to keep him home! Then it further occurred to me that if we are truly to unschool, his preferences play into it and he might WANT to go to school, so we need to be prepared for anything. Just like always.

These are pretty fun days, and I'm glad that I get to spend however many we have with Mal, watching and learning alongside of him.

A Day in the Life

Hi, guys. This is my horse. I'm the one on the horse. That's me, Mal. Pretty cute, right?

I'm twenty months old today, and I thought you might like to know what my days are like. I'll tell you one thing: When I'm in charge, it'll be a lot different. Right now, I'm captive to the whims of my mom, who doesn't like to have as much fun as I do. Apparently, at some point, she tires of picking me up to look at air conditioners. Someday I'll be tall enough to see myself, but you want to know a secret? I'll still ask her to pick me up. See that face up there? She can't resist it. Until her back starts hurting.

So here goes... I usually start waking up as soon as the light starts to peek over the horizon. I require a lot of milk during that hour or two. I'm ready to get out of bed before my parents are, so I crawl all over them for a while, trying to wake them up. Mom sometimes has to go to the restroom before I'm ready to let her go; how rude. Then she heads into the kitchen to start coffee (yuck!) for Dad, so I usually ask for Bee.

Fortunately, my mom knows that "Bee" means what they call the "computer," for some reason. My favorite thing to watch is videos from Little Baby Bum, but I also like Starfall. We can only do Starfall if Mom doesn't have too much to do because she has to press the buttons for me. I try, but when I bang on the keys, it just messes up the screen. Stupid Bee.

After a while, we usually go into my room and I play with my stuff. I have a lot of cool things, and sometimes I just like to take inventory of several drawers or my closet by pulling everything out. Also, there are cool fake food things in my play kitchen, and I quiz my mom by asking her to name them all. Every day. She does it, too! I like to tell her the colors, though. I am not sure whether the corn is yellow or green. Can it be both?

I have a ball pit, a table and chairs -- ooh! If I climb up on the table ("Use the chair, not the cushions!" my mom always says. She can't even handle the slightest goose-egg on my forehead! She should get used to it.), I can see the air conditioners under my window. Whenever I hear the a/c come on in my room, I scramble up and look. That fan goes around and around! Sometimes I see squirrels and bunnies. Sometimes people are walking their dogs.

Also, sometimes in the morning, if it's nice outside, we sit on the patio. I can pull the top off of my sand box now, but I keep forgetting to put it back on and Carol pees in my sand! Oh, and we have these really thick bubbles that don't pop as fast as the ones we had before. I like to chase those down.

Usually, if we don't go anywhere, I also want to walk up to the office before lunch. They have a neat work-out room and a big bowl with hard candies Mom calls "Jolly Ranchers." I get one every time we go, so it's pretty important to go every day. There's also a red felt table with very heavy balls that make a loud noise if you drop them on the ground. They have fun long sticks you can use as vacuums. In back, there's a big pool of water in the ground. I take off my shoes and sit on the edge so I can soak my feet on days we don't swim. There are a lot of air conditioners by the office, so we have to go there, too. They're tall, and Mom has to pick me up or I can't see the fans going around and around.

Words are hard for my mouth. I say "hot" for "hot," "on," "off," and "light." Usually, Mom and Dad get what I mean. I say "hot" a lot when we're walking back from the office, because I want to see all of the air conditioners. I know where they are. Every one of them in this whole complex. There are twelve buildings, and some of the units are hidden behind hedges, but I have seen them. I climb through thickets if I have to. Those things are fascinating. My parents seem to have a weird thing about climbing into bushes outside of neighbors' windows, but come on... they can't even see me, so I don't care.

For lunch, I usually just eat whatever mom is eating, which is usually pizza, plus some fruit. I love fruit. I love all of it. I will eat it all right now. Just kidding I saved you some. But not much. My favorite foods are blackberries, grapes, bananas, fruit snacks (as in "we'd better not run out or there will be scream/crying"), soda (some people think this make my Mom a bad mommy; I think it makes her a GREAT mom. Plus, I think she's just too tired to fight me on that one). I like string cheese, but only if Mom cuts it into chunks. If it's whole, I will play with it but not eat it.

We usually play some more in the apartment before my nap. You never know when I might go to sleep. It could be noon; it might be three. It could be never! Ha ha haa!

We read books I pick out. I usually know within a few pages if we need to abandon it or if we'll be reading it five times in a row. And my tastes change from one day to another. Loved the book yesterday, will fuss if you insist on reading it today. I'm fun like that.

Used to, when I was a little kid, I didn't like it for my mom even to go into the other room to throw away my diaper, but now it's kind of fun to play by myself. I can pretend I'm cooking something, or that I'm playing a concert with my ukulele and amp. In fact, sometimes I'll leave the room she's in just so I can have some privacy to play. And poop. Not on the toilet, though. I don't like that at all. Well, I like to sit on it because it's fun to throw the toilet paper into the potty. But I don't actually use it in there.

When I go to sleep. I usually stay asleep for just under an hour before I need help getting back to sleep for another hour... Or I might just be awake after that. OR I might nurse for a full hour, fooling my mom into thinking there is more nap to follow. Heh heh.

In the afternoon, I like to watch videos when I'm relaxing, or sometimes, like today, I ask to go to the gym. I can't say that yet, so I just pantomime jumping on the trampoline and dancing to music, and Mom knows what I mean. We communicate great like that. When we go to the gym at 3, no one is there because they're picking up their brothers and sisters from school. I can do whatever I want! Whenever I see other kids on the things I want to use, I don't hesitate to tell them to get off. That makes Mom frustrated, and she keeps saying something about how everyone gets a turn, but I don't believe that's how it works.

When my sister is awake, sometimes she hangs out with us in the living room and I show her all of my neat tricks. She acts unimpressed, but I know she's secretly loving it. She's going to be so proud of me!

I can tell it's about time for Daddy to get home when mom starts putting dinner together. I usually eat some fruit or sample what she's making for dinner because by the time Dad gets home, it's pretty late and I'm running off the rest of my energy for the day.

A lot of times, we go downstairs and walk around to look for my Daddy, like this. <<<That's a video.

My Daddy hurt his feet and sometimes we walk around after he gets home, but sometimes we drive around and I get to steer. I show him the air conditioners, too, since he's not here during the day when I show Mommy. Sometimes we see doggies, which I like, but mostly from farther away.

When we get home, it's time for dinner. I don't enjoy sitting down much, so while my family eats, a lot of times, I'll climb on my slide or play dinner music. After dinner, Daddy and I jam together.

At some point, my mom arbitrarily decides I need to go to bed, and I am not a fan. It takes me a long time to wind down. I usually get out of bed at least once or twice after she lies down with me. The other night, I brought her a purple block from the living room. She didn't want it and tried to give it back, but I wouldn't take it. Instead, I ran back into the living room and got another block. I brought it in and put it on the bed. Then I ran back into the living room and got a third block and put it on the bed. Eventually, I had lined two edges of the bed with more than thirty blocks, running back and forth for each one, before the block box was light enough just to bring the whole thing into the bedroom. Mom helped me clean up the blocks, and I'd used up the remainder of my energy so was able to fall asleep.

I don't remember much about when I'm sleeping, but Mom complains all the time about how I wake up something that she calls "half a dozen to a dozen" times a night. I am not sure she's telling the truth about this. If it were real, why wouldn't I remember it?

Oh, goodness. I didn't even talk about our cats, or how I help Mommy do chores, or any of that. We'll have to save it for another time. That's my average day in a nutshell!

Growing, growing, growing

That kid. Oh my goodness, he's learning at an astonishing rate.

Last week, for the first time, he started being territorial with the toys at the gym. He was going up the slide and another kid was going the opposite way. Mal held his hand out and said, "Na na na na na na na." That's me, I'm afraid. When he's doing something and I want him to stop, I notice that I repeat, "No no no no no!" really quickly, I guess to get his attention.

Also, in the past week, kids have twice pushed him off of things. He's looked at me both times like, "What just happened?" but moved on. As opposed to when a kid starts to use something he wasn't even interested in before but now wants, in which case he starts to throw a fit until I point him elsewhere.

Actually, a kid hauled off and hit Mal, too, but Mal didn't really notice. The kid's mom was mortified, and kind of chased us all around the gym, demanding that her son apologize, which he did not. It was... Well, I would have handled it differently. Anyway, no harm, no foul.

Mal doesn't always "obey." If he'd rather do something besides what I'm asking, he will often carry on. However, more and more, he *is* doing what I ask, even when he doesn't like it. He will typically respond now if I call out (in a pretty stern voice) in a parking lot. Actually, if we're walking in our complex and I say, "There's a car," he'll come stand next to me until it has passed.

A couple of times last week, he obeyed but wasn't happy about it, which was adorable. One time, we'd just gotten home from the store and he wanted to walk around the parking lot but I had an armful of bags. He was motioning that he wanted to go up to the office for a Jolly Rancher, and I said, "Mal, we can't go right now. I have to take this stuff upstairs. Please come this way." He started bawling and yelling, but came with me. I'l take it! It's progress.

I was thinking about it, about how now it's developmentally appropriate for him to start understanding and sometimes bending his will to mine and wondering: Would he have gotten it any sooner if I'd punctuated my requests with swats when he didn't comply, or some other form of "discipline" to get his attention? I don't think so. And I think our relationship is stronger for not having had to resort to those things.

Also, yes, I do expect him to run full out into traffic next time we leave the apartment, now that I've waxed philosophical about that.

In the past couple of days, he has cracked me up so much.

The day before yesterday, I had gotten an outfit to put on his baby doll. He didn't want her dressed, so he took it from me. I said, "Mal, she's half naked and the elastic is worn out of her drawers. She wants some clothes!" So I picked the outfit up again. He took it AND the baby that time. He then went on to play, and I was going to put the outfit back into the drawer. When he saw me pick it up, he shook his head, took it, walked across the room and put it down on his couch, where I couldn't reach it, and went back to what he had been doing.

Yesterday, we were getting ready to go to the gym. He hates wearing clothes right now. I don't blame him. It's already hit the 90/90 death zone at least once... 90 degrees, 90% humidity. Take me home, Jesus. Anyway, he had his shorts on but had decided to go play with his kitchen instead of putting on the shirt. I followed him over and put one arm into the sleeve of the button-up you see in the picture above. He pulled the shirt off and threw it down. I picked the shirt up and tried the opposite arm, then he took the shirt from me, shoved it up under his arm so he could keep track of it, and continued to play.

That kid cracks me up.

He will pretend to be asleep, too, when he's nursing and I mention either his changing his diaper or that I need to go to the restroom. Suddenly, he's in sleepland and I guess none of those awful things are going to happen. But if I say, "No no! Don't go to sleep!" he'll start grinning, which isn't a great thing to do when you're nursing, if you're at all interested in your mother's comfort. But it's on me for cracking HIM up, and it's so cute, I still do it.

He's fallen asleep twice this week shortly after nursing, but not with the milk dispenser in his mouth at the time.

He is increasingly interested in his dad, and spent a whole hour with him last night while I ran to the grocery store for snacks. He didn't even notice I was gone until I was on my way home. That is the first time I've left him on a weeknight like that, and the first time I've gone to the store alone since he was born, and the first time I've been out of the house at night alone in like two years. So it's a pretty big deal.

James has always wanted to practice his guitar "more," and one great thing about Mal being so into his daddy is that Mal asks to play with him a lot, and James has gotten back into it. Mal has a ukulele that he plays while his dad works on songs he used to know, and scales, and learning new stuff.

Mal loves to sing and play and wants music going pretty much all of the time. In the gym, between songs, he always looks at me and signs "more." It's like he forgets that they always follow one song with another song. But I'm glad he's into music. Maybe he'll like it enough to want to learn to play an instrument or two, unlike his mom and sister.

Because he'd had a very late three-hour nap yesterday, Mal didn't go to sleep until ten. Consequently, I didn't go to sleep until midnight, knowing I'd regret it today. Of course, Mal woke up earlier than usual, as he always does when he goes to sleep late. It's weird. His "normal" bed time is 8:30-9:15; in that case, he typically sleeps until 6:45-7:30. When he goes to sleep after 9:30, we can pretty much know we'll be up before 6:30. I guess he just misses one whole sleep cycle in that case.

Well, I was so sleepy this morning, so I got up and moving. Because Mal was in such a great mood, I was able to dust the house, do "deep" vacuuming (where you move everything but the biggest furniture), get a chicken ready for dinner, empty the dishwasher, get the recycling ready for pick-up (we had a couple of Amazon deliveries, so there were boxes to break down, etc.), do a load of laundry (that's still in the dryer because I'm on break, dang it), and clean up where my sweet boy soiled the carpet (but at least we saved a diaper, I suppose). That was in addition to watching some music videos together, playing in his room, reading some books, having breakfast, and wrestling on the bed while he wound down for nap. And I got twenty minutes of sleep at the top of his nap!

Now I need to go do some retirement stuff for my hard-working man...