Cognosco

When my mom was in town, we (me, hubbie, Albie, and mom) all went out to dinner the last night she was here. I took Albie’s mesh safe feeder with us so he could eat some grapes while we had dinner. At one point, he (of course) dropped the thing on the ground. I picked it up and started to give it back to him and mom said, “No!” because, “you just don’t know what kind of germs are on this floor”.

Okay. Fine. Never mind that my shoes will track what is on this floor onto my own floor, which is why they say you should take off your shoes at home and I just never do. Because I have dogs, for god’s sake, and who knows what kind of stuff they’re bringing into the house! Nonetheless, I said I’d rinse it the feeder off when the hot water to warm his bottle came. So, we gave him his little plastic keys to play with to keep him busy. He chewed on them and slobbered on them, and then (of course) dropped them on the floor. Mom picked them up and handed them back to him.

I said, “How is that any different than the grapes?”

She sort of stammered, but before she actually responded, I said, “Oh, I know, they’re grape-activated germs.”

I thought this was hysterical. She did too, but hid it, and simply replied, “Oh, you and your damn logic. And just to think, I was so happy when you learned to talk”.

My dearest smunchie face,

 I’m just going to go ahead and start this update by talking about your surgery because it was by far the most traumatic notable thing that has happened thus far in your lifetime. You had surgery on August 31^st, and the surgery itself went just fine. It was actually sweet to take you home afterwards, because when I carried you out you were passed out on my shoulder, which is something you haven’t done since you were about 14 weeks old. I remarked to your daddy that it might be the last time you ever sleep on my shoulder. He said no, that it would probably happen at least once more when you’re like four years old and have spent the day at Disneyland. I think he may underestimate your true ability to resist sleep. It is a gift that I have passed down to you, and now I realize how truly annoying it can be.

 The week following surgery was hell. Absolute hell. There is really no other way to put it. Your Mam-ma (my mom) came to stay with us, and thank god she did, because there was an awful lot of “pass-the-baby” going on. Which was not your fault. You were actually such a trooper that it brings tears to my eyes to think about what a special, beautiful, being you are. You are so full of happiness and light and tenacity that I feel humbled to be your mother. You weren’t even all that cranky. But they had to leave a catheter in for a few days, and so you had some bladder spasms that made you scream in a way I have never heard you scream. It was gut-wrenching. They gave us medication for it, but it interacted with the codeine in such a way that there was NO WAY I was giving it to you again. You only had one or two spasms a day, but when they happened, I was absolutely convinced that you would never be the same and I had ruined your disposition forever.

 The surgery also completely screwed up your already wacky sleep schedule. I had not realized you really had a schedule until it totally disappeared. I swear you were saying to yourself, “I fell asleep once, and woke up in pain, and I shall not make that mistake again.” Not to mention that I have no idea how aware you were during the surgery because general anesthesia is a funny thing. For all I know, you were half awake and aware that you were surrounded by strangers. So, for the first time since you were 2 weeks old, there were a few nights where over an hour of screaming preceded you actually going to sleep. None of the usual tricks worked. And it was a fight to get you to sleep EVERY single time, night or day. This lasted for just over a week, and has since passed. Now you are back to your baseline level of sleep resistance. Thank god. At the time, it was only further proof that I had completely fucked you up for life.

The other thing that was an unfortunate side effect of this whole surgery thing is that due to the quantity of different medications I had to squirt down your throat, you are now suspicious of any sort of tool or utensil coming towards your face. And I especially think the antibiotic did not agree with you, so you’re probably suspicious of all substances you are asked to swallow. Which has made introducing solid food quite the challenge. I’ve just given up on spoons, and give you everything in the self-feeder mesh thing or on the end of my finger. You don’t care for rice cereal, but love rice, so I’ve just started giving you little chunks of it. I can’t think of a downside to this, so I’m going to just keep doing it.

On the plus side, you seem to be healing nicely and are back to your old goofy self now. You had a lot of bruising, but my mom said it wasn’t much more bruising that what you see with just a circumcision. This just further affirms that I would never circumcise a boy unless there was a medical reason for doing so. At least you had pain medication! A midwife I know recommended arnica for the bruising, and in one day, it was an amazing difference. I don’t know why doctors don’t recommend it more often. It’s still hard to tell what it will actually look like completely healed, so I have no idea what you’ll be looking at in 10 years or so.

I still don’t know if we made the right decision. I had sort of hoped that this whole thing would be like making the decision to terminate a pregnancy, and once it was over, I would just feel relieved. But instead, I am constantly plagued with doubt. Given that there is a tiny risk of complications all the way up into adulthood, I will probably suffer from these feelings once in awhile, forever. But I will tell you that the surgery was more complicated than they had expected, and that it seems you did have some chordee (twisting of the penis) that could have been potentially painful later in life. So, for that reason, I’m kind of glad we did something. And I’m sure there are plenty of other decisions I will make on your behalf that I will also question, so I should just get used to it now.

 

On to happier things.

Your Mam-ma was here for two weeks, and I’m so glad she was. You hadn’t seen her since you were three weeks old, and it was such a delight to watch the two of you interact. You are lucky to have her as your grandmother. Your uncle Matt also came over a lot while she was here, and you simply adore him. So, he’s going to start coming over sometimes to keep an eye on you so I can get some work done, and so that he and I can spend some time together as well. Your uncle Matt is a good guy—he’s just made some poor decisions.

Mam-ma also brought a lot of pictures of me when I was a baby and we could almost be twins. The resemblance is truly amazing. I know that you’re all masculine and stuff, but son, you are a beautiful baby.

Mam-ma also got to witness so many milestones while she was here. Let’s talk about those, because that’s the good stuff.

First of all, she got to be around for your (re)introduction to solid foods. She got to feed you, and watch you learn about a sippy cup. Or shall I say, drippy cup.

She was also here for your transition from the cosleeper to a real crib. You have so much space now–you love it. You still spend about half the night in my bed, and that’s just fine with me. I like having the crib set up because I know that if I am really exasperated it is a safe place to put you so I can walk away for a few minutes. And the mere thought of that gives me so much more patience with you. Because son, you have a temper. Seriously, I don’t know where it came from (wink, wink). You really are such a happy little guy…until you’re not. It’s that simple.

 But that stuff is nothing compared to the other leaps you’ve made in the last two weeks. You had been struggling to crawl for quite some time. You’d make a step or two, and then fall sprawled on your face. Somewhere between the time of your surgery and one week later, you had totally mastered it. It was such a slow transition, that I can’t even say “this is when you crawled”. But one day, you were just doing it. I do, however, have specific dates for the other stuff you’ve done.

 Such as, figuring out how to sit from a crawling position. That happened on Saturday the 8^th. You still can’t just sit up from laying down—you have to sort of roll to your side first. Which reminds me of when I was pregnant with you, so it makes me smile.

 Then, on Tuesday the 11^th, you just up and decided to pull yourself up to a stand. Just like that. You’d been working on it for awhile, but that was the day that you did it and subsequently became obsessed with pulling up on everything. Even walls. And I’m not even sure how you do that. And I’m pretty sure it’s not safe.

 By yesterday, the 14^th, you’d figured out how to sit yourself back down again. And now, you’ll pull up, let go, and try to balance. You last about 3 seconds, which is still impressive.

 All of this developmental leapage has left me saying, “oh, fuck, I need to childproof”. The baby cage is now really only useful as a place to put you when I just need a confined area for a few minutes, but you won’t tolerate it for long. We haven’t been able to use the neglect-a-tron (exersaucer) for two weeks, and have to wait another two weeks to use it again, because you aren’t allowed to really straddle anything. You still enjoy playing with the toys from the outside. But that really doesn’t help me get a shower.

 Now Albert, I know that you are in a hurry. For what, I don’t know. Just in a hurry. Just like your grandpa. Just like your mother. But seriously, it would be okay if you decided to spread out the milestones a little more. Because learning to crawl, sit, pull up, and sit back down within a two week span of time is a little dizzying for your mama. God help me if you are walking by the end of this month.

 The dogs are also a little concerned about all this mobility of yours. Especially Ozo. He was already mad that I brought two other dogs into the family. Then you showed up, and he’s still not sure where you came from, but it was okay because you just stayed in a bed or in your cage or in my arms. But now, NOW, you’re EVERYWHERE. And dammit, he just didn’t sign on for this shit when he joined this family.

 Mam-ma discovered that we can keep you busy for long periods of time by putting you in your high chair with a pile of stuff to drop. When you’ve dropped it all, we gather it up, and you start again. Seriously, you can do this for an hour or so before it gets old. So, I’d have to say that this month, your new favorite toy is pretty much anything that makes noise when you drop it. This is nice, because I can bring your high chair to the doorway of the bathroom, and keep you busy enough that I can get a shower. You also love the Tigger that Mam-ma bought you to sleep with since you’d gotten poop all over your Froggy. Tigger is so soft that I almost want to fight you for him.

 Your fine motor skills are also advancing. You are now working on your pincer grasp. I am excited about this, as it means I can give you those little rice puff things that every baby I know seems to adore. I’m trying to find an organic, non-Gerber version, but have yet to find one. Rest assured, I am still looking. I’d prefer to avoid Gerber, because they’re now owned by Nestle, and I will explain to you my hatred of Nestle someday when you can understand the politics of breastfeeding.

 Earlier this week, you went to sleep one night, and woke up with a whole new vocabulary, involving many sounds that resemble wild animals. Seriously, I was lying in bed while Mam-ma was playing with you in the living room, and it sounded like there was a coyote loose. You also make a “who” sound like an owl instead of crying when you need something. Such as a new pile of toys to drop. It’s nice, because now you have other sounds besides “fussing” to communicate with. And the coyote noises just crack me up.

 Oh, and before I forget to mention it, you also had you’re first overnight stay at Nanna’s house (your daddy’s mom). It was on August 17^th, so that daddy and I could go to Zappa plays Zappa. I figure we can start taking you to that annual concert when you’re about two. Because I want you raised on a steady diet of Thom Yorke, the Flaming Lips, jazz of all flavors, Mozart, Ani Difranco, and Frank Zappa. It’s a moral imperative.

 Things I have learned:
 

• My mother is not only an awesome grandmother, but also a great mother.

• Grandmothers have all sorts of tricks up their sleeve for getting babies to sleep.

• There is no such thing as a simple surgery.

• There is a huge difference between a cranky “is he in pain” cry and a true pain cry.

• You may not think your baby has a sleep schedule. But you’ll know what it is once it gets fucked up.

• Stress really will affect your milk supply. Especially if you need to pump to replace meals. But the nice folks at the Chakra herb store can make you some tea that will make you start leaking everywhere just like a new mama.

• Arnica is a miracle herb. I already knew this, but it’s nice to be reminded.

• Estimated timelines for milestones are pretty much meaningless.

• Teething pain is apparently uncorrelated with how close a tooth is to actually coming in.

• A simple, silly tune, when repeated enough times, becomes a mindful, soothing, mantra. A phrase such as “little baby Albie with the jiggle in his head, he needs to go to sleep when it’s time for bed” will provoke deep thoughts about the universe right around the 74^th time you sing it.

• This too shall pass (I have to keep relearning this over an over).

I love you so much, little Dude. I hope you know.

 

~Mama