To Simon at Fourteen Months

Just look at you!

Simon makes mischief of one kind and another in his Tata-made bear suit.

Our boy is no stranger to dirt. Here he is at the end of a serious puddle-ducking session.

Simon makes a drum out of everything, but this was just BEGGING FOR IT.

Your Papa and I are two of the happiest grown-ups you'll ever meet. We're also tired and exhausted much of the time. We knew we'd be busy your first year, but then Papa's work really picked up, and we're all so busy trying to take care of one another. You would be very busy no matter what; signing, speaking, laughing, making friends, playing and listening to music, knocking things over, celebrating your mealtimes. But these days, Zak and I are very busy too. And happy.... and tired.

You are transported when you see them.
It finally happened. You noticed that there are trucks and trains in the world and that they are the most fascinating things around. They are like dinosaurs that have not yet gone extinct. (You haven't yet learned about dinosaurs, but that's fine. One at a time.) When we were playing in the rain and puddles the other evening before dinner, you watched a train go by, as we have many times. We play at a playground and often walk on a path that are very close to the tracks. But for the first time, you watched the train go and then frantically signed "More! More!" the way you do when we play "Trot, trot to Boston" or feed you blueberries. You have joined the league of toddlers in earnest now, Simon. We are very proud.

...and by cats I mean seals.

Your aunt Jordanna tells a story about a woman who called the UW biology department to tell a story of microwaving a bee and bringing it back to life. (I know, I know... ask her to tell it, it's much funnier.) The woman started off by saying something like "I was feeding my cats, and by my cats, I mean my chickens..." This joke will never stop being funny to your Papa and me.

Today you and I were visiting with the harbor seals at the aquarium when you signed "Cat" over and over the same way you do when you see a cat. Later, when we visited the fur seals, you signed "cat" for the females and "dog" for the (ENORMOUS) males. This was a sign of great affection, because you love cats and dogs, but also this wonderful insight into how you categorize and sort things in your mind. For instance, you also ask us to "work" the guitar rather than "play" it. I also love that ways that similar (to you) signs become the same. You use virtually the same sign for banana, bread, and egg. We've discussed that you used to use the same sign for dog, bird, water and full diaper, but things have changed. You have different signs now for dog (patting your chest, which is similar to patting your thigh, which is part of the "real" sign) and water (one finger to your lips, which is close to three fingers to your lips). You still sign bird that way (it's really close) and you now say "Poop-uh" when you think you might have a full diaper.

You've moved on from the duh-duh-duh's to the buh-buh-buh's. You love talking about bubbles, balls, books and baths (which to someone else would sound like the same baby talk but to us are clear words). You call both your Papa and me "Baba" at this point, although the P's are sometimes reappearing in Papa's name. You say things like "kitchen" "blueberry" ("boob") "balloon" ("BOON!") and mimic much of what we say.

Morning Madness

We are morning people. If it were up to you (and on mornings like this one, when I felt a little under the weather and wanted a cup of tea and breakfast right away it kind of is) you'd be playing and talking before you even got out of your sleep sack and pj's as soon as you were done with our first nurse of the day. Today, you grinned at me, then toddled over to the music box your Grandpa bought you and turned it on. After a little dancing, you were ready to play with magnets for 10 minutes or so. When you were tiny, our friends visited an we thought 4 year old Cayden would enjoy some Magneatos, a toy I bought used for you because they were available, and I love them and knew you'd enjoy them in your later toddlerhood. Ever since we got them out for Cayden, though, you've been playing with them and by now you have a pretty good intuitive sense of magnetism...which makes you a genius.

In the morning we laugh, talk about our belly buttons, have more hugs and kisses than any other time of day, talk about Papa before he wakes up, read books, look out the window, dance and prepare breakfast. You are learning to really use a fork and spoon, by the way. We're all really impressed.

I should probably stop there.
Thanks for 14 months. I'll love you forever.

Trust

Recently I hired a stranger to watch my son. She was from a cool website that we had to pay, and she sounded great (the site calls references and interviews them and records the interview so that you can hear them). We were traveling to visit some friends, and wanted to go out, mostly after he'd gone to bed, so we hired this sitter to come over to our friends' house. It was kind of amazing to reflect on all the stranger's children I've watched, started watching when I was a very young teenager. Z and I thought hard about it and did our due diligence and then...

I was trusting the stranger with my only child.

My friends were trusting me to find someone who was safe to leave in their house.

Simon trusts all of the above... completely, about everything.

It all worked out. Simon really enjoyed his time with the sitter. (She came a couple of times and he got excited to see her each time.) We're home again, and he is learning (still/even more) to trust himself and his strong body. He can climb up the stairs to our third floor apartment. He can climb all over the place at the park. I like to think that he's making our trust of him and his baby judgement, his baby body part of himself.

These days he trusts us to read a book, turn on music, play a game, lift him up, put him down, give him food, hugs, kisses when he asks us to (through an amalgam of sign language, sounds, "words" and enthusiastic empathy). He trusts that when we do something he doesn't like, we'll eventually stop and we'll usually warn him first. It feels really good.

I'm constantly realizing how much faith I have in the world. I don't think I've got more than before (less, actually, because the stakes feel higher) but I'm more aware... when Simon was playing on a hanging bridge at the playground I didn't worry (after testing it) that it would fall. When he approaches another child, I imagine they probably won't damage one another (although some slight damage might occur). I don't worry he'll get disease by chewing wood chips, or tasting the handrail. I'm rewarded... Simon catches himself when he falls, mostly. He's had good luck playing with other people's dogs. It's been a safe, healthy fun year.

I worried that, well, that I would worry a lot more as a parent. In fact I resent it when people occasionally assume or imply that I make the choices I make out of fear, or worry or concern. I wondered why it mattered, but I guess I'm kind of happy to discover how much faith I've got in the world I'm raising my son within.

another beginning...

This year has been full of Zak and I saying to one another "Here we go... it all changes now... look out!"

Tonight was another of those moments. 

We have been signing to Simon since he was 3 months old or so. Starting with "Milk"and "diaper". Zak liked to use big strings of signs together and we often wondered what, if anything, he might pick up. (Experts recommend families starting with one and adding them slowly. This appears to be about helping the adults to be consistent and learn the signs. We had no problems with signing consistently, and knew quite a few signs already from my work with a child whose hearing was impaired, so we just had at it.

Simon first signed "milk"while he was nursing (which is when I would sign it to him). For a long while, he wouldn't sign "milk" when he wanted it, but if I guessed and signed it to him, when he was hungry he would smile, grab my signing hand and stuff it in his mouth. So, basically, he improvised his own sign for "HELL YES!" After awhile, he got tired of that, and has been "signing" milk, by tugging at my shirt and unsnapping my bra for the last few months. 

He learned "water"and signed it by opening and shutting his hand in front of his mouth, often while making a gurgly sound. We were ecstatic. Occasionally he has signed "Papa"and "Mama", although he can  now say those words. Very soon, the sign for water also meant bird, and full diaper. (We can show you the three signs and you can see how his sign is very close to water, bird and dirty.) then he generalized  from "bird"to "bird or dog". So, occasionally throughout the day, he'll sign this sign and we'll look around for context clues to tell us if he needs his diaper changed, is thirsty, or is thinking about a bird or a dog. 

He's really excited about dogs. He's been seeing them around our neighborhood and is big enough to walk over to them and pet them if the owner is cool with it. He always signs "bird" and then we sign "dog" back. For the most part, we've used ASL signs, but I have occasionally wished we'd used the "baby sign" for dog. ASL is to snap your fingers and slap your leg as if calling a dog, and baby sign is to stick out your tongue and pant. Since it'll be awhile before Simon can snap, I had been thinking this was a mistake.

Tonight we went out to dinner and saw a dog on the way home. After it was gone, Simon kept trying to look over my shoulder (I was carrying him on my front facing me.) to see the dog. (Yesterday a dog walked behind us for a few blocks and this method helped him to see it the whole way.) He frantically signed "bird/dog". Zak signed "dog"to him every time and said "dog"too. "duh" is a common sound for Simon to make and a big part of his daily, conversational babble so it was no surprise when he responded to Zak with "duh"and his "bird/dog"sign. Zak emphasized "Daw-GUH" a few times. There was no dog present and the two just kept signing and talking to each other

Simon: Dah! ("bird/dog")

Zak: Daw-GUG ("Dog")

over and over 100 times until... Simon said "Dog-guh". We all got excited. We walked down the street all chanting "Daw-guh" sign language forgotten. I hoped that we'd run into another dog, and we did. Our neighbors had their two puppies out playing and they ran over to Simon and he said to them "Dog-uh". And that was it. The beginning of a child who can definitely think with others about things that are not present, the beginning of a hunger for language, an enthusiasm for naming and describing. Language is hugely important to Zak and me and it was so exciting to walk through the dark  talking together with our little one.

The latest in a long line

 Simon is not the first child to "help" his parents unload the dish washer.










Today he curiously surveyed the dishwasher and then removed this pot.
















He hollered and laughed.
















He likes participating in daily life. After months of a helpless infant who lived only according to his needs, only on his own schedule, it's really marvelous to see him finding his way into our rhythm.







He seems to like it too.

Dear Simon, This month has been such an exciting one, really. You have blossomed into an eater and a mover. I finally feel really like a mother, instead of a fraud, or like I'm playing house, or... I'm not sure how I felt before. The other day, though, when you started crying when I left you with JB and I knew it was because I'm your mama and you didn't want me to go? THEN I felt like your mama in a whole new way. Here are some pictures of your moving, visiting your buddies Dalton and Cayden, and eating.

Dear Simon at 5 months

Dear Simon at 5 months,

I meant to do this earlier. I sat there, on November 13th, while you slept on your little cosleeper in the middle of our big bed, staring at the screen, thinking about a future version of yourself reading the blog I was about to write. (No pressure, though!) An electronic record seemed too cheap, I couldn't imagine that I could type anything that would approximate how I was feeling about you and about your father, that could describe how fascinating I found your every sigh and hiccup. I gave up after about 3 sentences (when you awoke). This blog has always been about me and a way for me to think about things and share them with the people I love, so it seems a little strange to record your life here. I couldn't begin, on November 13th, or on December, or January 13th, to talk intelligently about how it felt to become a mother, to watch Z become a father, to watch as you showed us little glimpses of who you are.

This month, as you nap away. I feel totally ready. You are this incredible person, and you now have anecdotes. (A newborn's anecdotes, let's face it, are pretty dull.) I know more about who you are. You are intensely interested in everything around you, especially living things. (Luckily, people find you intensely interesting too. I have to add an extra 10 minutes to my grocery store trips to account for strangers who want to talk to you and admire you.)

You are becoming more physically capable every day. You can roll over from front to back and back to front, and you can finally hold onto your feet these days (though you can't get them to your mouth). You can wiggle and lurch your way in a circle, and get two or three feet from where we put you (although you don't have a lot of directional control at this point). Every day your father or I sees the potential for crawling. You are socially aware; helping us to change your clothes and watching us when we talk to you. You spend time on your own with your toys on the floor, and enjoy "helping" me cook from the comfort of your ergo. You recently became interested in reading board books, and you watch your father and I when we sign to you. (Who am I kidding? You are interested in EVERYTHING.

Here is the story I really want to tell that sums up your life right now:

Last Saturday, I made a fart noise at you and you laughed. I was so delighted. (The first time I heard you really laugh (you frequently chuckle one or two syllables at a time) I tickled your belly with my nose (this still works)about a month ago. But on Saturday, I made a noise (and a face) and you cracked up! I called your papa in to see. He believes fart noises are universally funny, and was unsurprised (bullshit) but I wondered what about this sound was funny for you. The next day, it no longer worked. (You smiled for the sound, but didn't laugh.) by the end of the day, you would spit and I would reflexively make a fart noise for you. I soon realized that I had accidentally reinforced spitting and brought this up with Z. I thought I should stop, but he said "What's the harm, really?" compared to the powerful experience of you being able to order up a fart noise when ever you want one. (COMMUNICATION!)

Then, your nanny, JB was here on Monday and saw you spit this way. He apologized to Z and took responsibility. He explained that when you are sad, he beatboxes for you! So, you were laughing at me (perhaps) because I don't usually beatbox, JB does! And you were ordering up more! So, now YOU have basically trained your caregivers to beatbox to you. It clearly gives you joy to make this spitting sound (which started as aspirated drool on Sunday, and is already a vibrating lip "motor boat" action) and get the people you love to beatbox for you. (I'm not Rahzel, or anything, but I do my best.)

So, that's where we are 5 months into this adventure, my little darling.

Until next month!
-Mama

Things I love about not being pregnant

This list has been running through my head for awhile now. I loved being pregnant, and not being pregnant has opened me up to enjoying things I never thought much about before.

Taking the stairs not the escalator

rediscovering the waist belt on my backpack

walking between tables in a crowded restaurant

tackling small children/picking them up/general rough-housing

eating spicy food and then lying down right away without heartburn. In fact, tomorrow I think I'll eat some spicy food WHILE lying down.

standing on a crowded train without hating every able-bodied looking person sitting in one of those seats that are supposedly reserved for the disabled, aged... and pregnant.

Smelling fumes/Standing near a microwave/feeling angry without a feeling of dread that I'm ruining my offspring

Demim

Hugging people without having to reach over myself to get at them

Sleeping/Reading on my stomach

Not talking to strangers about my condition (although, admittedly, I missed this for the first few weeks)

Tying my shoes with nary a care in the world (although my pregnant shoe-tying skills are very helpful when I'm carrying Simon in the Moby)

Not having to ask Zak for help with really silly things

Urdva Danurasana (Although with my rotator cuff issues, that was a short-lived love affair... but that's another post entirely.)

Riding my bicycle FAST and without being a spectacle.