Melting Mommy's Heart

If I don't sit down to write this I'm scared I'll forget and never remember...

This one isn't about funny stories or trivial lessons learned in new mommy land...it's simply to remind me one day how great it felt when I sat at the dinner table and felt two little chubby hands on my knees, those of my baby-turned-toddler who had crawled underneath the table and found my knees as support to stand. It's to remind me how sweet it was (so sweet it brought me to tears on many occasion) when I would talk to Evan on our many outings together while he was still rear-facing in the car seat and, since he couldn't see me, I would reach back to touch his head and he would grab my hand and hold it for minutes at a time.

These two things happened just today and it struck me how, with all of my enthusiasm in Evan reaching all the "big" milestones, it would be so easy for me to forget the small things. Interesting that the "small" things are really so big!

Boudreaux's Butt Paste - Breakfast of Champions!

It was a usual Wednesday morning. I got up at 6:30 to get myself ready for my last day of work for the week (always harder than Monday!). Evan woke up on time and I brought him downstairs for his morning dose of Baby Einstein while I made his breakfast. All of a sudden I hear Scott say, "Oh, NO!" A little panic shot through me...

"What happened?" Nothing...again and with a little more volume and attitude I ask, "WHAT HAPPENED?"

Scott then informs me that Evan has potentially ingested butt paste! He was actually very calm but by the time I got to Evan and saw the diaper cream all over his bib and hands I was convinced he had swallowed half the tube! I was in full-blown panic mode. We read the back of the tube which stated we should call poison control if ingested. GREAT! My baby just ate something poisonous!

I jump online to find a number and quickly dial only to be put on hold for what seemed like an eternity (probably 2 minutes, but come on people, you're POISON CONTROL, answer the phone!). Once I finally got someone his first response was, "this happens all the time". Part of me was relieved but part of me wanted him to be just as upset as I was (at this point I was verging on tears). He told me to clean out his mouth and give him something to drink. And that was it! "What if he ate half the tube?" (I could have sworn the tube was almost full but now looked almost empty!) Again, he told me to clean him up and give him his breakfast.

So, that's what I did. I took him to Debbie's and told her the story, again on the verge of tears. She was nice enough to tell me this would be one of many freak outs I would have with regards to Evan and also shared one of her "moments" with her oldest, Mason. I felt a little better. I asked her to call me if Evan threw up or was overly fussy.

It turned out that he was fine. He never got sick or showed any signs of anything being wrong (except for his late afternoon crankiness due to cutting his two front teeth!).

I get asked often lately about having another baby (what is it about your baby turning one that makes people start asking about having another one??). Suffice it to say, based on this little story of over-reaction (and there are many more), I think I'm better off with just one!

Special Firsts

It all started just two short weeks ago when Evan began standing on his own. I was at work and called Debbie (our neighbor and Evan's sitter) to check on Evan. She broke the news to me that he was in fact standing by himself. I got teary-eyed just thinking of it. She was sweet to talk me through it over the phone, probably sensing that I was emotional. She said, "Okay, he's standing, still standing, still standing, oh, he fell!"

The next day I saw it for myself. I was sitting in the living room sharing a snack with Evan as he stood beside me, using my shoulder for support. All of a sudden he let go while he fed himself graham crackers! I was amazed!

Just one week later I called Debbie again to check on our little man. She said, "we have another first". All I could think was that he took his first step and I was not there to see it. Again, I got a little teary. I was wrong, however. Evan had not walked but he had learned to climb the stairs! With Debbie close behind our little baby (I cannot get it through my head that he's more of a toddler now than a baby!) managed to climb all the way up the stairs!

Of course, when we got home I had him do it for me and again, I was amazed. When did he become so independent? We couldn't wait for Daddy to get home so we could show him the newest first! He was so excited that he immediately grabbed the video camera to record the monumental event.

Since that day, Evan has mastered stair climbing. Sometimes he actually prefers climbing the stairs over and over to playing with his toys (wish that was my preference!). Now we just have to figure out how to teach him to get back down...

So just when I thought we were at our peak of newness with all that had taken place in two short weeks, Evan walked. On the evening of Monday, July 7th 2008 our baby took his first four steps toward me. I was completely overwhelmed with pride. I realize that this is no outstanding feat; he was going to walk at some point in time. But just seeing him have the courage to put one little chunky foot in front of the other made me feel so proud.

It made me think of all those times in our lives that our parents have told us they were proud of us; graduation, marriage, and all the little accomplishments in between. It always just seemed like the obligatory thing to say, "We're so proud of you". I never really understood what they truly felt until now. It felt like my heart was bursting from my chest and I just wanted to scoop him up and swing him around and tell him how great he is (which I did!). Hmmm...maybe I'll have to temper this in the future with lessons in humility!

DaDa-SchmaDa!

Since his first "coo" I could not wait for Evan to make more recognizable sounds and words. In fact, as of late, it's been a cause of concern for me that he had not yet said "mama" or "dada" since this is a nine-month milestone (milestones make me CRAZY!). I just knew that, because Evan was quickly approaching 10 months with no utterance of either of these sounds, speech therapy was looming in our future! I am your typical (well, maybe a little on the atypical side!) worrisome, first-time mommy and as many times as books and his doctor tell me that each child is different, I still freak out at the slightest sign of a delay!

This past Sunday as I waited for Evan to fall asleep for his morning nap, I listened to him on the monitor. Did I hear that correctly? Is he saying "dada"??? It couldn't be! To my glee Evan had started saying those words I had waited so, um, impatiently, to hear!! I didn't say anything to Scott right away. I wanted him to hear it himself - mostly to be sure I wasn't making this up in my head! Almost immediately Scott came to me and said, "I think he's saying dada!" And so it happened, Evan's first consonant pronunciation.

Evan seemed to babble his new-found sound all day. Monday morning came and there the two of us were, going through the morning routine before heading off to the sitter and work. There was just something about feeding, cleaning, dressing, and changing him while he happily sang "dada, dada" that made me really want to hear "mama"! I do realize he doesn't necessarily know who Dada is right now and I should have been prepared since I knew that this was the first sound he would make. But it doesn't make me want to hear mama any less!

Oh well, Scott might have the first sound but we both get so much more from his smiles, laughs, cries we get to comfort, and his first-time adventures we get to witness; that'll hold me for a while!

What the POOP? (disclaimer - you shouldn't read while eating!)

I can't believe I'm writing an entire entry about poop, but that's what's going on in my world right now. It's very exciting (imagine deadpan voice here).

Baby pooping schedules are much more scientific than I thought. I imagined for every meal there would be a poop, simple as that. I was wrong. It took me at least six months to crack Evan's pooping code.

When I really stop to think about it, I have been obsessed with this kid's poop since he was born. As many of you know there is the coveted "black poop" just after birth and for a few days following. Aside from seeing his tiny face when he was given to me at birth, my second most exciting moment in the hospital was seeing the glorious, tarry, first poop! This meant things were going well and it was also a ticket out of the hopital!

When he was just a few weeks old I brought him to the doctor at least twice because I was convinced he was having trouble, if you know what I mean (I'll try not to use too many poop-related terms, in case you did not heed my warning!). I tried everything from Karo syrup in his formula to using a thermometer to help things along (don't panic - it was doctor recommended!) to changing formula brands. The lesson learned was be careful what you wish for. In the days following my obsession with his lack of poops I was rewarded, let's just say!

So after that first 4-6 weeks, things seemed to plateau. Until teething...

At around 7 months pooping once again had taken on a life of it's own and brought it's friend, diaper rash, to the party!

Now those of you without infants may not think this is a big deal; just change the stinking (no pun intended) diaper, right? I say to you, think again! Poops come at the most inopportune times, like when you want to make a quick trip to the mall or just after baby falls asleep at naptime. Then there are the changes with poop that always keep me guessing. Honestly, from poop to poop there are changes in at least three categories, but I'll spare you! Should I be keeping a poop journal? Apparently I should since I'm asked about this at every doctor's appointment but I'm never quite sure what the correct response is; is dark and pastey a good thing? And what does that really mean anyway, pastey?

I've become such an expert in the field of baby poop (at least Evan's) that I have mastered what foods best trigger or control poop. It's not good enough to know that bananas tend to "back things up", if you will. You have to also learn when to give those foods to get the best result! For example, I learned that applesauce at dinner causes wake-up poop at precisely 6am. I quickly moved to the "nothing but bananas after breakfast" routine.

So, as soon as I thought I had this poop thing all figured out, teething-round 2 happened. Actually, it's upon us now. At least I think it's teething because things are looking like they did 2 months ago. I think Evan pooped 5 times yesterday. He may not appreciate me sharing that but it helps make the point; I'll pay for his therapy in a few years. 5 TIMES??? For a routinely 2-a-day baby, 5 times is a LOT!

And at 4:00 this morning, guess where I was? Hovered over a changing table by night-light changing yet another poop! Guess who thought it was funny? Hint: it wasn't me! And at 7:00 this morning, I was there again! I just hope to see new teeth soon so that I will know it hasn't been in vain!

The learning never ends with this baby thing. Every facet of baby care is completely trial and error. I've tried to control it all since I brought the little bundle of joy home 9 months ago but I have to remind myself daily that I cannot. What I have learned is as soon as I think I have something down it will change and that if I give things a day, they usually all work out.

Survivor - the "Traveling with Baby" edition!

A bit melodramatic to compare my travels last week to being a contestant on Survivor? Maybe. But I have never felt such a sense of accomplishment as I did on Saturday when we finally returned home. Running a half marathon - simple! Childbirth - piece of cake! Traveling halfway across the country alone with an 8 month old - HEROIC (in my mind, anyway!) I could not have anticipated the amount of strategic thought it would take to get through the trip.

Strategic Decision #1 - How to Pack
My plan was to stick to one suitcase - not too difficult since we're only gone three nights, right? WRONG! Although I did manage it, deciding how to cram clothes, bottles, a swim floaty, toys, formula, and baby food all into one suitcase was not an easy feat! I made some concessions - I left the bottle sterilizer at home (yes - I still hand wash and sterilize Evan's bottles!). Next - diaper bags. So, there I am deciding what must-haves should go with me and what can be checked. I imagine it's like deciding on that one personal item you can bring to the remote island! How many empty bottles should I actually carry on? How many bibs, wipes, changes of clothes (even though I have NEVER used the spare set of clothes since he was born!). With that out of the way I turned to the car seat. This is where I really impressed myself. Since I recently bought an extra seat for the sitter, I installed that one and wrapped up the other so that I would not have to uninstall and wrap it in the parking lot at the airport! Turns out this was a lifesaving idea! With the packing completed, I loaded my car the night before since I knew we'd have to be out early the following morning.

Strategic Decision #2 - How to Get out the Door
After all the great nights Evan had (about a week in a row of sleeping all night!) Wednesday morning he was up at 4:30! It was actually a blessing in disguise, though, because I started the process of getting us out the door at 5:30 and it took every minute until I shut the door behind us at 7:35 (the second time!). Now Scott is usually the one in charge of the traveling checklist. He makes lists and checks them twice. He remembers things like camera chargers and extra batteries (both of which I forgot!). He makes sure lamps are plugged into timers so that it looks as though we're home at night (those are complicated devices!!). Let's just say I really missed him last Wednesday morning as I was leaving, knowing I was forgetting (and in some cases, choosing!) to do all those small, extra little things.

Strategic Decision #3 - How to Get to the Gate
We got to the satellite parking area in good time, considering morning work traffic. Next obstacle - strap Evan into the Baby Bjorn! Now we have not used this since I tried to when he was a newborn and got his leg stuck in the contraption. But, since I decided against lugging the stroller, it was the only way to go. We practiced using it at home several nights before we left, just be safe. I unpacked our things onto the curb before getting Evan out of the car and into the carrier. Can I just say he's a heavy little guy?? So, picture this. I have a 21 pound eight-month old strapped to my chest, facing outward. Next, put on my jacket and backpack diaper bag. Last, get the other diaper bag on my shoulder and tucked under the backpack strap so as not to fall off. I'm sure this was a sight to the two men waiting with me for the shuttle - both of whom had one simple little carry-on! Lightweights!

At the terminal drop off is where things started to get dicey. The driver unloaded my things but then I had to cross the street! Huh?? Similar to some crazy Survivor obstacle course, I had to quickly solve the puzzle (how to get a car seat that is in a plastic bag AND a suitcase linked together) and then run the course(get across the street safely without dropping anything!). Finally, the finish line! We checked in, made it through security (where luckily I did not have to unstrap Evan!) and to our gate with no further incident.


Strategic Decision #4 - How to Successfully take a Potty Break
We sit down at the gate and I unstrap Evan so he can play on the floor. A few minutes later I decide I should go to the restroom. Rather than get him in the contraption again, I just carry him and our things. Big mistake! If only I could have taken a picture of me holding Evan with one arm and trying to go to the bathroom using only one hand. Let's just say that at one point he was dangling horizontally while I squeezed him between my knees so I could get my pants up and buttoned! But we did it!

The flight out was great. Evan was a trooper and slept for most of it.

Strategic Decision #5 - How to Entertain (the extended period/limited resources version!)

I got to the airport at noon on Saturday for my 2pm flight back to Baltimore. We were a little early, but no biggie! As soon as we sat down at the gate I learned of the 45 minute delay! We found ourselves in the jungle alone and bored! Repeating in my head, "I can do this!", I began to think of all the ways I would keep Evan entertained for three hours. Knowing he would be due for a nap around 2pm my plan was to hold him off as long as possible so he would sleep on the plane. First, he had to eat. So there we were, Evan on my lap and his food on the chair beside me, one spoonful after another. We played on the floor until he got restless. It was time again to strap him to my chest, pick up all of our bags, and walk the terminal. My back and neck ached but he was quiet and content. I bounced him, I let him jump on my lap, I fed him countless Gerber Puffs - this cycle continued until we finally boarded at 3pm.

Strategic Decision #6 - How to Form an Alliance

I'll never forget the look on the man's face when I plopped down in the seat next to him. He was by the window and had carefully folded his suit jacket and placed it in the middle seat (which was helpful in that no one sat there!!). He gave us a polite smile but I knew what he was thinking! As soon as we got settled and before the plane left the gate, Evan was asleep in my lap. Amazingly, he stayed that way until we started descending two hours later! When he woke up the man began talking to him and told him how good he was. He told Evan, "You can fly with me any day"! Once we got to the gate and began the process of deplaning, those same people who looked at us hesitantly when we initially took our seats were now commenting on what a great baby I had and how cute he was. My plan had worked!

Strategic Decision #7 - How to be a Diva (on a small scale, at least)

By the time we got to baggage claim I was completely over the, "I can totally do this myself!" BS. I ditched that strategy for the "I'll be a diva" strategy instead! I headed straight to the ATM and proceeded to take out the best $10 I've ever spent. I bought a package of Lifesavers to make change. I then walked over to an employee with a flatbed and asked for help. He loaded my luggage and car seat and waited with me outside for the shuttle, then loaded my things on the bus. He got $5.00! Then the shuttle driver dropped me off and loaded everything in my car. He got $3.00!

We made it home just three and a half hours after leaving New Orleans - not too bad! I successfully outwitted, outplayed, and outlasted little Evan AND all the traveling obstacles I encountered. I was pretty proud of us!

I must say thanks to all the people who helped along the way. Obviously they won't read this, but I want to put it out there anyway. There was the lady who held Evan's formula dispenser while I made his bottle and who insisted that Evan kicking her leg was not a big deal, the lady who picked up my jacket off the floor - several times, the man who offered to hold Evan while I stuffed our things overhead and the same man who steadied Evan by holding his hand from across the aisle while I buckled my seatbelt, and the flight attendant who gave me extra pillows to prop my arm saying, "I remember how heavy their little heads can get!".

The experience reminded me of all those times I was less than patient (shocker!) when a baby was on my flight. Maybe, just maybe, I learned a little something!

Taylor's 15th Birthday!

Good Grief! How can it be that 15 years ago he was just a tiny newborn at my high school graduation? I say the same thing every year...it's a daunting reminder of how quickly he's growing up and also how OLD I'm getting.

I called his cell phone today and left a message. When did his voice become so deep? When did he start referring to himself by his last name? How do I get my cell phone to play cool music rather than just ring? Anyway, I went on and on to his voice mail about how I couldn't believe he was 15, how I used to change his diapers, how crazy it is that 15 years ago I was only 17, blah, blah. When I hung up, I had to laugh at myself. I wonder how fast he deleted the message, how many times he rolled his eyes while listening, how many friends he let listen while they belly laughed at his old aunt leaving a corny message?

I can't wait for the day when I'm 47, he's 30 and Evan, at 15, thinks we're BOTH corny! Hmmm...do people still say, "corny"?

Happy Birthday, Taylor!