Wednesday, January 15, 2014
He's Walking!!
The little guy walked for the first time tonight! Back and forth between both of us several times. Seemed quite pleased with himself. We're in trouble now.
Saturday, January 11, 2014
Discipline...aka I have no idea what I'm doing
Now that he's very, very mobile, all Foosa wants to do is get into things he shouldn't. We've babyproofed to some extent, cabinet latches and socket covers and what not, but he still manages to access things he shouldn't. While I can deal with most of it, like when he dumps my purse all over the floor and goes through its contents, it concerns me that he has zero reaction when I tell him 'no!' Doesn't pause to look at me, doesn't freeze in place, doesn't act like I'm even speaking.(I know he has no hearing problems, because he reacts to other commands, like the aforementioned, 'Do the pig!') I learned a long time ago that 'the books' are nothing but nonsense, but that doesn't stop me from consulting them anyway, just to see what is supposedly normal. In this case the consensus across a variety of sources is that while he might not stop doing the prohibited task when told no, by this age he should at least acknowledge that it is being said. One of the things he does that worries me the most is when he pulls up on the coffee table, and starts banging as hard as he can on the glass panels that are set in the wood. I'm terrified he is going to hurt himself. I tell him no, and he just keeps doing it. No hesitation. I try to remove him from the situation, and distract him with another task, nope, goes right back to it and tries to bang even harder. I've tried various tones, I've tried explaining to him why its not safe to hit glass (for whatever that's worth), I've even tried giving him commands he does understand as alternatives. Nope. It's seriously his favorite thing to do. I'm about to stash the table in the basement until he learns to control himself, but that doesn't really teach him anything. I just wish he'd stop for even one second and make it seem like he's processing what I'm saying. Oh yeah, I'm really winning at this mom thing.
Friday, January 10, 2014
Foosa at 14 months
My mom keeps telling me I should write things down, and since I'm apparently terrible at the baby book thing (as in, even with the best intentions, I never started it...thank goodness a friend of mine gave me a sticker calendar that I could use to record his firsts...when I remembered), I figured I should force myself to start jotting a few notes down from time to time. (I'll use the baby book for the next child. It's too adorable to go unused.)
So, that said, the little guy is 14 months, 3 days old today. He is not walking yet, but yesterday he did shove himself away from the furniture he was clinging to and stood unassisted, so it's going to be soon. No 14 month drs appointment since he is no longer FTT. Short version of long story I intended to post, but will likely never get around to: at 4 months his weight dropped dramatically off of 'The Chart,' a terrible metric doctors use to determine if a baby is developing properly. This led to monthly weight checks and a diagnosis of 'Failure to Thrive.' Scared his poor parents half to death, especially when he was sent for blood work (on a Friday!) to check for indications of organ failure or something else terrible. Longest weekend ever. Everything came back perfect except for an elevated count of something I don't remember that was indicative of eczema - which it was quite apparent he had because he was already seeing a pediatric dermatologist about it. (I will write about that at some point.) As an eczema sufferer myself, my logic was that since his skin was so bad and his body was working so hard to repair it, the calories he was consuming were going straight to that duty instead of being stored as fat, especially since his plateau in weight gain coincided with when the eczema first presented. So I refused any further testing, and sure enough, the older he gets and thus the stronger meds we can give him for his skin, the quicker the weight gain. He climbed back into the chart, and currently I estimate he is between 22 and 23 pounds, which puts him right about in the middle.
He says 'at' for cat, and can say 'hot' perfectly but doesn't know what it means. Lots of things are 'hot,' even very cold things. We're working on it. Mother in law claims he says up, but it's really more like, 'aahp,' and he says it indiscriminately, so I'm not willing to give him that one yet. Also, both MIL and SIL think he knows 'Santa Claus', which I have never heard and maintain it is impossible, because that's not something we've said around him. Oh, and dadadadada means I want. Said at a higher excited pitch it sometimes refers to his father as well.
He loves looking at pictures, especially of himself. Vain child. :) He eats just about everything you put in front of him. He understands when you tell him to 'do the pig.' (He wrinkles his nose and attempts to snort.) And he knows 'So big!' and how to high five.
Favorite non-toy is the vacuum cleaner. Has loved is since he was a little baby. He babbles to it, and shrieks with delight if you turn it on. He also loves 'helping' with the dishwasher (grabbing spoons out of the silverware holder and throwing them on the ground).
Naps are getting more regular. Usually only one, starting at 1:30 or 2 and lasting an hour or two. Goes to bed anytime between 7:30 and 9. Will wake once, sometimes twice, usually because of gassiness or hunger, between bedtime and about 1am. If we are lucky (and don't have to wake him up to come to work with me) he then sleeps until 9am or later. Sometimes as late as 11. It's glorious.
He is outgrowing his current batch of clothes. Everything he has worn lately has been its last hurrah, when I did the laundry I packed away all of his stuff instead of putting it back in the rotation. He has about six outfits left. So after next weeks laundry I will unpack everything and repack it away. Currently the newborn stuff is at the bottom and the larger items on top, which makes no sense. Then last of the current wardrobe will max out the storage tub, so I will reorder it with the larger items on the bottom and newborn stuff on top. That way whenever baby #2 is born, I can just pull out the top section.
With the clothes go the sleepsacks, which is sad. In the morning we let him crawl around with his legs out but arms still in it. When he was little it looked like a cape. Now that he is bigger and creeping along furniture 95% of the time, it looks like a bathrobe. Too cute.
So there. I've finally written some stuff down. :) Now I have to see how much of the house I can get cleaned before his nap ends.
So, that said, the little guy is 14 months, 3 days old today. He is not walking yet, but yesterday he did shove himself away from the furniture he was clinging to and stood unassisted, so it's going to be soon. No 14 month drs appointment since he is no longer FTT. Short version of long story I intended to post, but will likely never get around to: at 4 months his weight dropped dramatically off of 'The Chart,' a terrible metric doctors use to determine if a baby is developing properly. This led to monthly weight checks and a diagnosis of 'Failure to Thrive.' Scared his poor parents half to death, especially when he was sent for blood work (on a Friday!) to check for indications of organ failure or something else terrible. Longest weekend ever. Everything came back perfect except for an elevated count of something I don't remember that was indicative of eczema - which it was quite apparent he had because he was already seeing a pediatric dermatologist about it. (I will write about that at some point.) As an eczema sufferer myself, my logic was that since his skin was so bad and his body was working so hard to repair it, the calories he was consuming were going straight to that duty instead of being stored as fat, especially since his plateau in weight gain coincided with when the eczema first presented. So I refused any further testing, and sure enough, the older he gets and thus the stronger meds we can give him for his skin, the quicker the weight gain. He climbed back into the chart, and currently I estimate he is between 22 and 23 pounds, which puts him right about in the middle.
He says 'at' for cat, and can say 'hot' perfectly but doesn't know what it means. Lots of things are 'hot,' even very cold things. We're working on it. Mother in law claims he says up, but it's really more like, 'aahp,' and he says it indiscriminately, so I'm not willing to give him that one yet. Also, both MIL and SIL think he knows 'Santa Claus', which I have never heard and maintain it is impossible, because that's not something we've said around him. Oh, and dadadadada means I want. Said at a higher excited pitch it sometimes refers to his father as well.
He loves looking at pictures, especially of himself. Vain child. :) He eats just about everything you put in front of him. He understands when you tell him to 'do the pig.' (He wrinkles his nose and attempts to snort.) And he knows 'So big!' and how to high five.
Favorite non-toy is the vacuum cleaner. Has loved is since he was a little baby. He babbles to it, and shrieks with delight if you turn it on. He also loves 'helping' with the dishwasher (grabbing spoons out of the silverware holder and throwing them on the ground).
Naps are getting more regular. Usually only one, starting at 1:30 or 2 and lasting an hour or two. Goes to bed anytime between 7:30 and 9. Will wake once, sometimes twice, usually because of gassiness or hunger, between bedtime and about 1am. If we are lucky (and don't have to wake him up to come to work with me) he then sleeps until 9am or later. Sometimes as late as 11. It's glorious.
He is outgrowing his current batch of clothes. Everything he has worn lately has been its last hurrah, when I did the laundry I packed away all of his stuff instead of putting it back in the rotation. He has about six outfits left. So after next weeks laundry I will unpack everything and repack it away. Currently the newborn stuff is at the bottom and the larger items on top, which makes no sense. Then last of the current wardrobe will max out the storage tub, so I will reorder it with the larger items on the bottom and newborn stuff on top. That way whenever baby #2 is born, I can just pull out the top section.
With the clothes go the sleepsacks, which is sad. In the morning we let him crawl around with his legs out but arms still in it. When he was little it looked like a cape. Now that he is bigger and creeping along furniture 95% of the time, it looks like a bathrobe. Too cute.
So there. I've finally written some stuff down. :) Now I have to see how much of the house I can get cleaned before his nap ends.
Tuesday, January 7, 2014
Planning: Sleeping Arrangements
Now that the little guy is not so little, sleeping away from home is getting a bit more complicated. For our next cruise we are going to the embarkation port a few days early. The ship leaves from San Juan, which has a special place in our hearts since that is where we spent time before and after our honeymoon cruise. Any opportunity to return is relished, and we have enough vacation days to make it doable, so yay! And instead of staying in hotel we have rented a delightful looking apartment in the heart of Old San Juan. It's a one bedroom, and when I arranged it I planned to just use a page from my cruising tips and tricks playbook - if no access to a portable crib, turn the loveseat against the wall, and boom - sleeping accommodations the kid can't roll out of. (I've never had to actually employ this trick as we have always been able to secure a pack and play, but I've heard it works fabulously.) Up until about a month ago, this would have worked perfectly. But now G3 has decided he has no sense of self preservation and has taken to attempting to swan dive off of every elevated surface he can find. (I haven't let him succeed yet.) So while he couldn't inadvertently roll off the loveseat in his sleep, he could certainly flip over the arm sides on purpose, something I don't intend to let happen. So the couch plan is out. As is cosleeping, as the same concept applies...he could easily squirm away from us and flop off the bed. I found a place that rents baby gear, but they have a minimum order of $45, which we wouldn't meet. Or we could bring our pack and play (checked for free on Jet Blue since we tend to travel so light) but it's a bit if a hassle to worry about hauling it all that way (and back) for only two nights of use. Thus, I think I'm going to try and locate one of these on ebay: http://www.kidco.com/products-page/peapod-plus/ There are a few auctions going on now that would save me at least 50% off the retail price. Looks like it would serve our needs, and is nice and portable - I just hope the whole tent concept doesn't freak the little munchkin out. Updates to come.
Sunday, January 5, 2014
Reflection: Working with Baby
The pilot episode of the Cosby Show, in addition to the hilarious econ lesson Cliff gives Theo, contains a scene where Dr. Huxtable tries to calm down a guy whose wife is in labor. I couldn't find a transcript of it, and I'm too lazy to play back my dvd and do it myself, but basically he says that childbirth isn't that big of a deal and tells a story about women in rice fields who have the their baby in the field and then the child immediately begins helping out. While I don't work in a rice field, I often think about that scene and laugh a little inside when I read online message boards when the topic of how long to take off work before and after childbirth. Barring a medical condition that requires bed rest or something, I don't understand the logic of taking time off before at all. I would have gone nuts tapping my feet wondering when he was going to make his appearance. (I kind of went nuts anyway, despite the fact I was still working and G3 was born on his due date - but at least I made money while quietly losing my mind, and the distraction of having a job to do was a relief.) And as far as after...yeah, I kind of think women that have normal deliveries and are whining about having to return to work after six weeks because they don't feel up to it are kinda crazy. (This is different entirely from not wanting to go back because they don't want to be separated from their child, that I completely understand.)
I worked until 5pm and checked into the hospital a few hours later, had my little guy the next day, and felt absolutely terrible for the next three days or so. Day four the weather was unusually nice for November, so I was outside pulling up tomato baskets and ripping up landscape fabric in the afternoon like it was nothing. I had no maternity leave aside from the two weeks vacation I had saved, which it turns out I didn't really need, but they were use it or lose it days, so I did stay home for two weeks. After a week and half, when my mom returned home and my husband went back to work, I was so bored and felt so ridiculous sitting at home doing nothing I almost decided to just return to work anyway. New babies don't do anything. They sleep, wake up crying, eat, need their diaper changed, and go back to sleep. Repeat this cycle around the clock. Boring! I remember sitting on the edge of my bed, watching him sleep and saying, 'Kid, you are adorable, but you sure don't do much do you?'
I was THRILLED when the two weeks were up. If I would have been at home for six I think I would have had to be checked into an institution because I would have gone insane. I am not cut out to not work. Two weeks from the moment my son was born, I was back at my office - with him in his bassinet beside me. Yes, I was insanely fortunate to be able to bring my son with me to work. It was awesome. He slept, I worked. He woke up, I fed him, changed him, he went back to sleep, I went back to work. Fabulous. Until he was two months old, I worked full time with him at my side. At that point, anticipating he would soon be getting more interesting, I switched to part time. Three days a week. Mondays, Tuesdays, and Thursdays. (On Thursdays G2 worked from home, so G3's hours at the office were cut to two days week.)
For several months it was really still more of the same...if I could do it again I would have stayed full time longer, especially since it was winter and too darn cold to walk him around in the stroller. In the spring when we could get out and about things got a bit better, and his advancing age finally meant G3 was getting more interactive. It started to get a little harder to have him at the office, but usually there were enough people around that it wasn't too bad. He loved watching all the activity around him. And then he got interested in toys, which helped. (And to make things even better, my in-laws moved to a house walking distance from my office at the beginning of the summer, and my mother in law graciously offered to begin collecting G3 on her way home from work in the afternoon on Mondays. This arrangement still continues, and it's great.) There are days that are difficult, sure, especially when he is teething, and I think, well, this is the end, I'm going to have to quit. But so far we've gotten through it. Truly how much longer I'll be able to pull it off, I'm not sure, but I'm enjoying having the best of both worlds for now.
I worked until 5pm and checked into the hospital a few hours later, had my little guy the next day, and felt absolutely terrible for the next three days or so. Day four the weather was unusually nice for November, so I was outside pulling up tomato baskets and ripping up landscape fabric in the afternoon like it was nothing. I had no maternity leave aside from the two weeks vacation I had saved, which it turns out I didn't really need, but they were use it or lose it days, so I did stay home for two weeks. After a week and half, when my mom returned home and my husband went back to work, I was so bored and felt so ridiculous sitting at home doing nothing I almost decided to just return to work anyway. New babies don't do anything. They sleep, wake up crying, eat, need their diaper changed, and go back to sleep. Repeat this cycle around the clock. Boring! I remember sitting on the edge of my bed, watching him sleep and saying, 'Kid, you are adorable, but you sure don't do much do you?'
I was THRILLED when the two weeks were up. If I would have been at home for six I think I would have had to be checked into an institution because I would have gone insane. I am not cut out to not work. Two weeks from the moment my son was born, I was back at my office - with him in his bassinet beside me. Yes, I was insanely fortunate to be able to bring my son with me to work. It was awesome. He slept, I worked. He woke up, I fed him, changed him, he went back to sleep, I went back to work. Fabulous. Until he was two months old, I worked full time with him at my side. At that point, anticipating he would soon be getting more interesting, I switched to part time. Three days a week. Mondays, Tuesdays, and Thursdays. (On Thursdays G2 worked from home, so G3's hours at the office were cut to two days week.)
For several months it was really still more of the same...if I could do it again I would have stayed full time longer, especially since it was winter and too darn cold to walk him around in the stroller. In the spring when we could get out and about things got a bit better, and his advancing age finally meant G3 was getting more interactive. It started to get a little harder to have him at the office, but usually there were enough people around that it wasn't too bad. He loved watching all the activity around him. And then he got interested in toys, which helped. (And to make things even better, my in-laws moved to a house walking distance from my office at the beginning of the summer, and my mother in law graciously offered to begin collecting G3 on her way home from work in the afternoon on Mondays. This arrangement still continues, and it's great.) There are days that are difficult, sure, especially when he is teething, and I think, well, this is the end, I'm going to have to quit. But so far we've gotten through it. Truly how much longer I'll be able to pull it off, I'm not sure, but I'm enjoying having the best of both worlds for now.
Saturday, January 4, 2014
School and Moving
Yup, my child is not even 14 months old and I'm already worried about where to send him to school. More specifically that I don't want to send him to school in the area we currently live in. Which means we will have to move. And relatively soon. Yeah, the grade schools in this area aren't as bad as the high school, but I don't want to uproot the little guy and make him 'start over' somewhere new. I'm sure this has to do with my own personal social anxiety issues, and maybe he wouldn't actually care, but I just hate the idea. Many many moons ago when I was gearing up to start school, we were living in one part of town but were going to be moving to another part within the year. Which meant I would have had to start school in one place and then switch to another. I was five years old and can still clearly hear myself pitching a fit that I did not want to do that. I remember my older brother (already in high school, so he wasn't going to be effected) trying to convince me that School A would be fine, telling me about the fish tank the kindergarten classroom had, etc. Nope. I wasn't going to do it. Five years old and stomping my feet screaming that I wanted to start school with the same kids I would finish with. Never went to preschool, so it's not like I had friends going to School B or anything, so I'm really not sure why I got that idea into my head. I also don't know how I got my way. Again, I was five. At the end of the day, I really had no say in the matter. Much like when I also decided (I was a very decisive child, apparently) that my room in our new house HAD to be pink. It just HAD to. Yet somehow, I got my way. (On both counts - I grew to hate that pink room - the only non-beige walls in the entire house, but I got it.) Since we already owned the property in the district we were moving to (house was being built) I was allowed to enroll in School B. Until we actually moved, my parents would drive me across town to meet the bus. (Not sure why at that point they didn't just drive me all the way to school, but knowing me I probably also insisted on taking the bus.)
Anyway, since I am clueless as to how to raise a child, I'm operating on a 'good enough for me, good enough for my kid' philosophy. So if I didn't want myself uprooted, how can I do that to my little guy? I suppose I will be doing it regardless, because there is no chance of us moving before he starts preschool, but I tell myself that it's okay because the way our current location does preschool, you get mixed in with a different batch of kids every session and it's only a few hours a week, so I kind of see it as play groups and not actual school. (But yes, he will be going to preschool, even though I didn't. I'm fairly certain my lack of socialization as a very small child is what led to my social anxiety in the first place.)
Moving was always the plan. And it wasn't supposed to be a problem. Real estate is the safest investment you can make, right? Sure was the case when I sold my condo years ago. Turned a very nice profit, after only living there for 3.5 years. This house was just supposed be a starter home. The condo was too small, so we moved for more space, not to stay here forever. The price was right, the location is great, the taxes are relatively low. Bad schools, but not a problem for a couple not even married yet, much less thinking about children. We would sell the house at a another nice profit and move when that became a concern. And then the housing market tanked. Practically the entire town is in foreclosure, lowering the value of our house dramatically. I was initially not concerned, figuring that everything would rebound by the time we needed to think about relocation. And it's starting to. Everywhere but here. So while the values here are still declining, they are overall starting to increase. My only consolation at the notion of selling at a loss is that the next house would also cost less to buy. But that may not end up being the case. Argh!
Yes, it's a few years before we truly have to relocate. But time flies so fast, it will be here before we know it. I want what is best for the little guy, and that certainly isn't this town, so staying here is not an option. Sigh...
Anyway, since I am clueless as to how to raise a child, I'm operating on a 'good enough for me, good enough for my kid' philosophy. So if I didn't want myself uprooted, how can I do that to my little guy? I suppose I will be doing it regardless, because there is no chance of us moving before he starts preschool, but I tell myself that it's okay because the way our current location does preschool, you get mixed in with a different batch of kids every session and it's only a few hours a week, so I kind of see it as play groups and not actual school. (But yes, he will be going to preschool, even though I didn't. I'm fairly certain my lack of socialization as a very small child is what led to my social anxiety in the first place.)
Moving was always the plan. And it wasn't supposed to be a problem. Real estate is the safest investment you can make, right? Sure was the case when I sold my condo years ago. Turned a very nice profit, after only living there for 3.5 years. This house was just supposed be a starter home. The condo was too small, so we moved for more space, not to stay here forever. The price was right, the location is great, the taxes are relatively low. Bad schools, but not a problem for a couple not even married yet, much less thinking about children. We would sell the house at a another nice profit and move when that became a concern. And then the housing market tanked. Practically the entire town is in foreclosure, lowering the value of our house dramatically. I was initially not concerned, figuring that everything would rebound by the time we needed to think about relocation. And it's starting to. Everywhere but here. So while the values here are still declining, they are overall starting to increase. My only consolation at the notion of selling at a loss is that the next house would also cost less to buy. But that may not end up being the case. Argh!
Yes, it's a few years before we truly have to relocate. But time flies so fast, it will be here before we know it. I want what is best for the little guy, and that certainly isn't this town, so staying here is not an option. Sigh...
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