rivka

I am crazy exhausted and overwrought.

Something is up with Colin. He hasn't been eating much and has been sleeping like an amphetamine addict on payday. Last night he went to sleep promptly at bedtime, and then was up mostly screaming from 10:30-11:30. I still haven't the faintest idea what was wrong. He was just miserable.

He is still going strong with the night waking. I am going to have to come up with some sort of plan for nightweaning and/or sleep reprogramming, because This Is Not Working for me.

Also, he figured out how to take the childproof cap off a pill bottle. Fortunately we were all right there in the same room and he didn't get any of it in his mouth before we noticed that there was Claritin all over the floor. But WTF, if he's going to be this awful couldn't he at least be dumb so I have a chance to stay ahead of him?

He was up at 6:30 this morning. I'm supposed to get to sleep in on Sundays, but it was Easter and Alex woke right up excited about egg hunting so I had to get up or miss Easter.

Colin has been clearly exhausted all day. He went down for a nap at 9:45 and I said I would just miss church and stay home with him but then at 10:15 Alex decided to play the fool and run away from Michael, who was trying to get her dressed, and then she jumped out and yelled "Peekaboo!" at top volume right at the foot of the stairs leading to the baby's crib. And he woke up, and I couldn't get him back to sleep.

This is of a piece with Alex's general heedlessness and disobedience, lately. Friday night I said "anyone who isn't working needs to get out of the kitchen now." Alex: "But I'm working!" She kept on with what she was doing, which turned out to be trying to pick up a jar of baby food with my long-handled kitchen tongs. A glass jar. Guess what happened.

I know she's only (almost) five, but for God's sake why can't she just do what she's told for once without looking for goddamned loopholes?

Anyway, back to today: I missed most of church anyway because Colin was on the move, and too noisy for the sanctuary.

I tried twice this afternoon to get him down for a second nap. He is so, so tired. He almost drifts off, and then pick two of three: screams/bites/laughs, and he's up again.

I have no patience for either one of them, or for anything else in my life right now.

I keep thinking that surely more sugar will make me feel better. Surprise surprise, it isn't working. But I keep trying anyway because I am not very bright.

Michael took them out after the second failed afternoon nap attempt. They've been gone for an hour and a half. It's absolutely silent in the house. I am enjoying being quiet and not touched and responsible for no one too much to go to sleep. I am starting to regain some sanity.

ETA: Michael just came back. Colin fell asleep on their way home from the playground, just a few minutes ago. The parents here will know just how fucked a 5:30pm nap is going to make us. But he's basically unrousable.

I don't know. At least they're cute?

When I got home last night, Michael wanted to show something off. "Colin, do you want to go to Mama?" he asked. Colin's head bobbed up and down in an enthusiastic nod as he reached for me.

I said I'd noticed a nod or two myself, and Michael proudly described how Colin had answered several questions (e.g., "Do you need a diaper change?") with a nod. We discussed how useful this was going to be from a communication standpoint, and how Colin's receptive language must be much better than we'd realized.

Then I asked Alex a question. (I think it was "How was school?") And felt Colin's nursing head go nod, nod, nod.

Oh.

We tested it out a few more times. And yep, Colin will nod in response to anything said in a questioning intonation.

I suppose that the helpful, nurturing thing to do would be to now give him lots of concrete experience with being offered something, nodding, and then getting it. But frankly, we'd have to be much, much better parents than we are to refrain from using this new skill of his for our own entertainment, instead.

Colin walked partway across the study this evening - a remarkably steady six- or eight-foot journey. He must have known that I had a developmental update in the works.

This has been a long time coming. He's been so steady on his feet: standing independently, reaching down to pick something off the floor from a standing position, even dancing while standing. A few times he's taken a few little side-steps, edging himself along crabwise. Then, suddenly, this (relatively) long, assured walk. He's walking.

He's been preoccupied with the large-motor stuff in general. The latest obsession is climbing onto the furniture. We have a couple of child-size straight chairs, and Colin likes nothing better than to climb on, crow at his achievement, climb off, and then climb on again. He can almost get up on the low futon in the study and the low rocking chair in the living room. He cries with frustration when he can't. If we give him a boost, or he finds a toy to stand on, he gives us his biggest grin and his crowing laugh. He absolutely loves to climb into the little wagon we gave him for Christmas. I thought he'd like to push it, and he does, but he likes to get in and out of it even more.

Colin also loves to open and close doors. Cabinets and drawers, too, but doors are his favorite. Most of the doors in our house don't latch properly, and he patiently works his fingers into the cracks until he can swing them open. Then he's very proud. And he should be; he's ingenious and persistent, and it pays off. He can easily open things like Rubbermaid storage containers with snap-down handles.

He's developed a real love of books. His first love was Moo, Baa, La La La, and in honor of that, I guess, he consistently says "lalala" when he wants to be read to - no matter which book he's brandishing. He likes the same book read over and over and over. Sometimes he is so excited about rereading that he can't wait for us to finish the first read, and he snatches the book, closes it, and hands it back over for us to begin again. When he settles in to be read to he grins and clasps his hands in front of him. It's unbearably cute.

He's very focused on the pictures in books. Alex, as an infant, was much more focused on the words. When Colin is being read to, you can watch his eyes intently scanning the pictures.

He loves dolls. Baby dolls get hugged and cuddled and touched and brought to an adult for cuddling. But he also loves Alex's tiny Polly Pocket dolls. I've seen him hold one of them in one hand and a dress in the other and sort of bash them together; it's clear that he knows that you're supposed to dress them. He also likes to play with toy vehicles, balls, nesting cups, and stacking rings. And anything of Alex's, really.

He has three clear and recognizable words: Dada, Mama, and A-leh (Alex). I also think of lalala as a word because it definitely means something consistent. He is also good with communicative gestures: he points and gazes intently when he wants something, shakes his head "no" when you get something wrong, tugs on the bottom of my shirt when he wants to nurse.

He nurses enthusiastically, but these days he's also very much about regular meals of table food. He has strong opinions about getting to try everything that we eat; he'll point and make urgent noises until we hand over bits of pork roast or whatever else we initially thought was unsuitable for babies. He's started to demand to have his bowl or plate set on his tray so he can help himself. He hasn't eaten baby food for a while now. Interestingly, he's also resistant to taking bottles of breastmilk from our nanny. I am psyched about that, because if we can transition him to taking cow's milk from a cup when I'm at work I can STOP PUMPING. He already drinks water well from a sippy cup.

For all these mature eating habits, he's still marching steadily along at the 10th percentile for weight, 50th for height. He's a little string bean. Today was his one-year-old well baby visit, and he weighed 18 pounds, 10 ounces.

He's been sick for a week or two, so that's probably partly why he's less unfailingly happy than he was before. But he's also become less laid back. He has a definite will, and he cries when he's thwarted. He is still super affectionate and snuggly, though.



He still thinks Alex absolutely hung the moon.

This evening, as I was sitting on the floor with Colin, he picked up a doll and held it to my shoulder. I took it and snuggled it. Then he leaned his head against my other shoulder and wrapped his arms as far around as they would reach.

I kept trying to put down the doll. He would patiently hand it back to me, nestling it against my shoulder. Then he'd rest his head against my free shoulder again and hold on.

Man. I didn't even know such sweetness was possible.

As Is Well Known, baby walkers are deathtraps. Babies who are too young to walk are too young to have that kind of mobility; they wind up falling downstairs, getting tangled up in electric cords and tipping the walker over, rolling themselves into a hot radiator, etc. etc. etc. We'd never have one in the house.

However.

Colin does not read baby safety advice. He has figured out that he can stand up holding on to a small table, child-sized chair, highchair, laundry basket, or even a large toy, and walk wherever he wants by pushing it in front of him.

For extra credit, he crawls up onto the top of our toy garage and then attempts to climb from there onto the furniture.

We are so very dooooomed.

We got home from Memphis last night. I'm in the office - the only day I'm coming in this week - and I must admit I'm kind of enjoying the peace and quiet.

I finally snapped at Michael's stepmother. As we were packing up to go she kept very persistently trying to get me to take Michael's bronzed baby shoes. I smiled and said nice things the first several times. "Oh, we'll definitely want them eventually, but I don't want to take them away from Bill." "Yes, but I really think Bill likes to have a reminder of Michael's babyhood around." She kept insisting: "Oh, don't worry about that. We've got plenty of reminders of Michael around." (Like the picture she hung back behind a cabinet, I guess.)

So finally I just looked at her without smiling and said flatly: "Betty, if you want them out of the house, then yes, we will take them."

So of course she backpedalled. And had the nerve to try this one out: "You just insulted me, saying that I want them out of the house." Uh huh.

Michael's father came in to talk with us about it. He said that he wouldn't take any amount of money for those baby shoes, but that we could have them if we wanted them. Although he would worry about them getting broken in transit. Anyway, he just wanted to make sure that we understood that they weren't trying to get rid of them. I felt bad because I really try not to put him in the middle, but.

Our flights home were beautifully uneventful. There didn't seem to be any increase in security at the main screening lines, and when I got pulled for secondary screening (I always do, because my artificial hip sets of the metal detector) the TSA who screened me seemed perfectly relaxed and easygoing. They had a TSA at the gate pulling some people aside for random pat-downs, but it was the most ludicrous security theater imaginable: he only stopped men, didn't stop anyone who had a ton of stuff to carry (presumably so he wouldn't inconvenience them too much), and only patted them down above the waist. He would've found someone carrying a gun in a shoulder holster, but that's about it.

Our kids are beautiful travelers. When I see other people dealing with screaming tantrums on a plane, I feel very lucky.

I did learn an important lesson about Colin and traveling, though. (Did I know this when Alex was his age and then I forgot it? Maybe so.) Yesterday I gave him solid food for breakfast at my in-laws' house, and then I nursed him throughout the day as we traveled home. He got frantically unhappy in the car on the way home from the airport; I nursed him again and he cheered up, so I decided to give him some solids even though it was already 8pm. And that boy ate: a full slice of deli cheese, three handfuls of Cheerios, a jar of baby food (chicken-apple compote, one of the higher-calorie options), and at least a quarter-cup of mango bits. He was starving. I think of solids as being kind of optional to his diet, replaceable by nursing, but it's now obvious to me that at this point they really aren't.

I have a big important meeting in an hour and a half, and I am nervous. To give you an idea of how important a meeting it is, I am wearing a blazer to work - something I do about twice a year. Some of you will be coming along in the form of a silver otter pin which you chipped in to give me at alt.polycon 12, so, thanks. It's nice to feel like my friends will be with me.

Now that I have a webcam on my work computer, I can show you what I look like when I'm trying to appear professional! Here I am:

Man, is this kid ever the sweetest, happiest, cuddliest, most loving little boy in the world. I love the way he crawls up into my arms, wraps his arms as far around me as he can reach, and puts his head down on my shoulder for a snuggle.



He is an easygoing, happy, sunshiny kid. He definitely knows and loves his family and Nia, our nanny, but he's also willing to go with the flow and let a lot of different people take care of him. He made a friend for life in the church nursery on Sunday - the first time we ever left him in the nursery, by the way - by playing and laughing happily and then abruptly cuddling up to one of the workers and falling asleep on her shoulder. Because he's just a friend to the world like that.

He's got all the "big baby" achievements now: pincer grip (picking up tiny objects with thumb and forefinger), clapping/playing pat-a-cake, playing peekaboo, waving bye-bye, passing a toy back and forth, turning board book pages and lifting flaps, banging two toys together. He loves to take things apart (like ring stackers) and just today made a pretty good effort at putting a ring back on the stacker. He can scoot a toy car along the floor. He likes rattles, cars, dolls, books with flaps and/or photos of babies, animal sounds, hugging, lap bounces, watching Alex run, and being passed back and forth between two loved adults. He loves his bath.

He is very strong and agile. He likes exploring - he crawls fearlessly out of the room that we're in, tries to climb over and behind things, gets himself stuck under the furniture. He opens doors that aren't firmly latched. He inevitably twists himself out of shopping cart and restaurant highchair seatbelts, and stands up. Then he looks thrilled with himself.

Twice, now, he has stood unsupported for just a few seconds. He doesn't seem to be aware that that's what he's doing.

He babbles to himself and to us a lot. He has a few things that sound like proto-words, but right now they aren't consistently applied. I do kind of think that he's saying "A-leh" for Alex. He says Dada and Mama - sometimes he's looking at us or reaching for us, but other times he isn't. Sometimes they're distinct words, and other times they're part of "dadadadada." He is starting to echo sounds a bit more - for example, Nia was having him wave bye-bye to me and he said "bah" in imitation of her "bye." So, you know. Talking is going to happen at some point in the not-so-distant future.

He eats well, all kinds of solid food. He loves cheese, rice, soft bits of fruit, Cheerios, oatmeal, and peas. It seems that he will only take pureed baby food from me. He doesn't eat huge amounts of purees - a 4oz jar or two a day, mostly meat-and-veg blends. He still nurses quite a bit.

Seriously, though, he could not be any sweeter or more darling. He is such a little love. My Colin.

My parents are visiting this weekend. They came down for two reasons: Colin had his child dedication service at our church this morning, and on Friday my father had an appointment at the National Federation of the Blind to learn about screenreading software from Michael's old colleagues.

It's been a joy of a visit, without the emotional stress that's hung over my relationships with my family for a while. They're just hanging out, enjoying the kids, helping, being good company. The kids adore them. My father has taken Alex to the park two days running now - it's a great partnership; Alex has vision and he has good judgment, so they help each other across the streets.

Colin's child dedication was just beautiful. When Alex was dedicated, our ministers gave us a big booklet of potential liturgy elements and let us choose what to have. This was our new minister's first dedication, so we didn't know what to expect. The only input we had into the ceremony content was asking for Alex to be included, and asking that he not use his favorite child dedication hymn because I hate it. He and acceberskoorb put together a lovely service. I'll share the text of the ceremony, and the pictures our friend Adrian took, if/when I can get them.

He was a preturnaturally good baby for the service, too. Saturday he was cranky all day and cried a lot, and I worried that his dedication would be a nightmare. But he went perfectly happily into the minister's arms to be blessed and paraded up and down the church aisles, and afterward he crawled happily around on the floor of the sanctuary, and after that he entertained himself happily for an hour and a half while we entertained a few close friends for his dedication lunch. What a good boy.

I am exhausted and burned out.

Yesterday was a lousy day. I expected to finally get the H1N1 vaccine at work - they'd sent out an e-mail saying that all faculty and residents in the department of medicine should come to grand rounds to be vaccinated. Even if you thought you'd already had H1N1, unless you could produce proof of typing. So I showed up, only to discover that they didn't really mean faculty - they meant MDs. "I have direct patient contact with immunocompromised people," I said. "Sorry," they said. "What do you suggest that I do?" "Find the vaccine somewhere else." Gee, thanks.

Worked late. Found out some things that, although not surprising, were tiring and discouraging. Came home to discover that I had forgotten that Michael would be spending the evening at a church meeting (including the dinner hour, so I'd be feeding myself and the kids on my own), that Colin was STARVING ZOMG NO ONE FED ME ALL DAY, and that Alex was STARVING FOR ATTENTION ZOMG NO ONE PAID ATTENTION TO ME ALL DAY. Tried to get Colin down for a nap and failed. Tried to get Alex to be quiet for ten minutes so that I could nurse the baby down and failed. Lather, rinse, and repeat for the rest of the evening. Colin did a lot of extraneous crying. Alex did a lot of extraneous loud neediness.

I honestly was ready to go to bed when Alex did. But a couple of friends called who are in very stressful situations themselves and instead I was up kind of late.

Colin woke me at five this morning. I got him back to sleep, but not myself. He was up for the day at six.

I am trying to write a grant in difficult circumstances, and I also have a lot of extra burdens at home because everyone keeps being sick, and "everyone" includes our nanny and our nanny's daughter which means that my childcare has been extremely shaky. I am stretched very, very thin.

Also: I have somehow managed to lose my Prozac. I can't find the whole bottle. Both Michael and I have looked. No idea how that happened, because it's supposed to live on my desk right next to my keyboard so that it's impossible for me to forget to take it. I've been without it for... maybe a week? I can't really remember when I took it last. Somewhere in the middle of everyone-is-sick-but-me hell.

I am, unsurprisingly, symptomatic: anxious and also very short-fused. When I'm off the Prozac I get absolutely furious about things not going my way, because the consequences seem so dire. Like, the only way the world won't fall apart is if everything is under my perfect control. Fun times.

Yes, I have e-mailed my psychiatrist to ask her to call in a replacement prescription.

Not loving my life right now.