One Fish, Two Fish

Everyone Cross Your Fingers March 31, 2009

Filed under: Mom and Dad,Month Ten,Neurotic,Sam,Travelin' Travelin' — leighnut @ 7:30 pm

Sam and I are getting on an airplane tomorrow to go to Traverse City for a few days. Sam is a seasoned flyer at the tender age of ten months, and all the trips have gone very well so far. Here’s the thing. Sam’s not a lump anymore. He’d rather be walking than sitting, and if he can’t walk, then he’d like to crawl, please and thank you. So now imagine him on a plane, in a little seat, pulling the glasses off the stranger sitting next to him with his sticky saliva-covered fingers. Not pleasant. Especially for our poor seat mate. I hope-hope-hope that the person I sit next to is a baby-lover. As for me, I will be armed with Cheerios, books, and shiny apologies. Just in case.

So, here’s the deal, readers. I want you all to stop what you’re doing tomorrow at 3:21 ET and cross all of your fingers and toes for, oh, ninety minutes. That should do it. 🙂

 

Like Something Out of A Dr. Suess Book March 30, 2009

Filed under: Month Ten,Photo — leighnut @ 8:12 pm

Do you remember the Dr. Suess story about the pants with nobody inside them? I loved that story when I was little. I think this is the pants’ little brother.

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Violet Beauregarde’s Breakfast March 26, 2009

Filed under: Mom and Dad,Month Ten,Sam — leighnut @ 3:16 pm

So I experimented with Cream of Wheat the other day, adding fruit. One day, I put some mashed peaches in and Sam loved it. The next day, I thought adding some blueberries to the peach sensation would be a good idea.

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It turned a gorgeous shade of electric purple. No wonder he wouldn’t eat it.

 

The Perils of Unsteady Walking March 23, 2009

Filed under: Goofball,Month Ten,Sam,Travelin' Travelin' — leighnut @ 3:48 pm

Sam’s walking confidence has blossomed since he took his first steps on Friday. He loves to try out his new skill whenever he can. When we try to help him by offering our hands, he’ll grab a finger in each hand, steady himself, then let go and walk holding onto one finger. Many times he’ll drop that last finger and go it alone. This often leads to spills and awkward moments. His face is getting well-acquainted with the floor, the grass, the spongy playground turf.

Today, for example, he was showing off to Lucy a little 12-month-old we met at the park, and totally face-planted into the hard rubber edge of the playground. I think he cried more for his wounded pride than his smashed face. I gave him a squeeze and checked for blood, then sent him on his way. He still prefers to hook babies in the mouth like a small-mouth bass, but will take redirection without a mini tantrum.

And then there was the awkward moment with the Gap employee last week. I was helping Sam walk with one hand, when he made a beeline for a very short employee. (She must have looked like a kid to him.. Kids fascinate him.) When he got to her, he lunged for her legs, and buried his face in her crotch. (She was short! It was head-high for Sam!) She jumped back, exclaiming, “Oooh hohoho!” while holding onto Sam. I was trying to reach for him without grabbing her hmm-hmm. It was awkward for everyone. The employee was flustered, but happy to play with him. And I was extremely happy that she didn’t let him fall face-first into the tile, even though he was reaching for the goods mouth first. What a peach.

There are more falls and awkward times in his future. Hopefully the falls will be few and relatively painless. And, well, junior high is coming, so… awkward times here we come!

 

Rob Saw It First March 21, 2009

Filed under: Firsts,Milestones,Month Ten,Sam,Travelin' Travelin' — leighnut @ 8:57 pm

We’ve been traveling this week. (That’s really neither here nor there, but it does set up the setting for today’s story. Otherwise, why would I be referring to the Toledo Zoo? I mean, it’s not like we randomly go on adventures to zoos unseen.) Anyway, we were at the Toledo Zoo. The polar bear and seal exhibit, to be exact. I was in the bathroom, because that’s what I do in these days of weak pelvic floor muscles, but I digress. While I was in there, I heard Sam squeal, then Rob cheer. I came out (yes, I washed my hands) to find Rob swinging Sam around and kissing him all over. Because he walked. Yes, friends, our little monkey took five solo steps yesterday. He was so proud. We were sooo proud. It was incredible. (Do we have it on video? No. We were at the zoo, for goodness sake!!)

Oh and by the way, Sam loved the zoo. But after his Great Solo Walk, he was exhausted and slept through the Africa exhibit. This spring I think we’ll take him to the Pittsburgh Zoo for another round of animal-viewing.

 

Idea Guy March 15, 2009

Filed under: Goofball,Month Ten,Near Death Experience,Sam — leighnut @ 8:45 pm

At this very moment, I am watching Sam pull open the lower drawers of the bookshelf in the living room, then try to step into them so that he can climb the shelves.

I’m no clairvoyant, but I believe the future looks dangerous for this one.

 

Month Ten March 13, 2009

Filed under: Firsts,Goofball,Letters,Month Ten,Mushy,Photo,Sam — leighnut @ 9:19 pm

Dear Sam,

This is big. You’ve hit double digits! Ten months, wow. It was right around this time a year ago that I went into the hospital to sit around and wait for you. It seems like a lifetime ago and yesterday all at the same time. I got to see your little face twice a week for many weeks, Peanut. You were cute then, all squished up and pruney from amniotic fluid, and you’re even cuter now. You still get pruney, but from playing in the bath tub for a long time. We got you these stacking cups for the tub, which you love. They make a great clicking sound when you bang them together and are easy to grab as they float by you in the water. I also use them to rinse you off when you’re all soapy. They’re highly functional. And that’s totally why we have them: for the function, not the fun. Riiiiight.

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The best thing about this month is that you are communicating more. Up until this point, it’s been a grand guessing game of What-Does-This-Cry-Mean?. Now we are adding the very exciting Guess-the-Meaning-of-the-Grunt game. Well, it’s not really a grunt, more like a short “Mmm.” Example: part of your bed time routine involves reading a book. One day a couple of weeks ago, when I was putting you down for a nap, I read you a book like our night time routine. Later that day, when it was time for Nap #2, I sat with you in the glider and started to feed you. Well, you sat right up and leaned over the side of the glider, staring at the book and saying, “Mmm.” Like, “Hello, Mother, you need to read to me before we start in on the eating. You know the drill.” So we read, and you ate, then fell asleep.

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This new communication thing brings with it definite preferences. Gone are the days that we can feed you any old thing. You want choices. And you will be heard. If I put a chunk of banana on your tray, but you are ready for a piece of toast, oh, the reaching and squealing begins. If I offer you a piece of food and what you’d like is a drink of water, it’s “Eeeeeeee!” until the cup comes to your lips. It’s very cute. And if we don’t figure out what you want, minor trauma ensues. If you’re on the floor, you throw your head back and sprawl on the floor and cry, then sit up to make sure we are aware of the injustice of it all. Your mini-tantrums are few, and secretly, Daddy and I find them very funny, though we’d never insult your dramatic acting with laughter. It is, after all, a tragedy, not a comedy.

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We’ve developed all sorts of games this month. We wave to baby Sam in pictures around the house, we play the mimic game at the table while you eat. If Sam grunts, Mommy grunts, if Sam waves, Mommy waves. Then if I do something unexpected, you squeal and laugh like I am some sort of comedy act. I don’t think I’ve ever been funnier in my life.

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You have quite a little sense of humor, Sam. Daddy still makes you laugh the loudest. He is your favorite toy, I think. You like to climb all over him and wrestle with him and roll your big red ball back and forth with him. The best thing, though, is when you sneeze you giggle a little afterward, like it’s your own private joke. It’s not an all-out giggle, but more of a “heh heh heh, did you hear that?” When we read I Am a Bunny, on every page I ask you “Where’s the bunny?” and you will point to him every time. Except for the frog page. I ask the question, you look at the bunny on the right page, then point to one of the frogs on the left page. Same thing every time, same frog every time. If you didn’t look at the bunny first, I’d think you had a bunny block on that page, but I think it’s your own private joke to play on me. I love it.

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I’m pretty sure this is the month that you will start to walk. You cruise the furniture like an Olympian (if there were such an event) and stand for long periods of time without holding onto anything. In the last week, you’ve started looking like you’re thinking hard about whether your body would stay upright if you took the leap and stuck a foot in front of you, but haven’t quite gotten up the courage to make the move. Daddy and I give you lots of encouragement and opportunities to try. So far, your greatest attempt was the step-and-launch. You put one foot forward and leap-launch into our waiting arms. But not walking has not stopped you from climbing. You try to climb everything — your horsey, the media console, the front hall table, Daddy, the coffee table, your crib. We are in trouble when you finally figure it out. I don’t know where we’re going to store all the furniture when that day comes. 🙂

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Your language skills are increasing daily. The other day, I handed you one of your shoes to distract you during a diaper change. You looked at it, then lifted your foot to put it on. You knew right where it was supposed to go! When I tell you to put your cup on the table, you do it. You may not have the words to say what you’re thinking yet, but you certainly understand what is said to you. It’s amazing to watch it all happen.

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The best thing for me this month happened just last week. You, Daddy, and I were in our room, where Daddy was playing with you. He said, “Sam, where’s Mommy?” and you turned around and looked right at me. I couldn’t believe it. In that moment, everything blurred around me as I stared into your beautiful little eyes, looking right back at me, knowing me by name. You are my bestest boy, Sam. I love-a-love-a-love you.

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Love,
Mommy