Cognosco

Today, I am grateful for these women.

They give me hope.

Personally, I’d rather a friend nurse my baby than give him or her formula. It would be nice if that were viewed as an "normal" option.

Dear Albie,

Wow, did I drop the update ball or what? Here I was, all obsessive and reliable about posting a monthly update, and then I went and skipped FOUR MONTHS. Because that’s how I roll. It’s all or nothing. Someday, when you read these posts, you will probably sympathize with that sentiment, because you are the same way. The mother’s curse has come true—my child is just like me.

So many things have happened since your last update. In June, we went on a road trip that lasted 18 days and spanned over 5,000 miles. We drove through up through California, and you got to see Redwoods. We continued up through Portland and Seattle, and then stayed a few days in Bellingham with MB and her lovely daughters. You had a great time with them. You got to cross the border into Canada, and so you have officially been to another country. I couldn’t claim that until my teens.

Your Daddy met us in Bellingham, and we continued east through Idaho into Montana. It was during this phase of the trip that you caught herpes from my cold sore. Turns out that herpes is a real bitch for little guys. You had a “real” fever that got high enough for me to watch closely, and your mouth was so swollen that some of your hard-earned teeth threatened to disappear beneath your gums. You also happened to be cutting your 7th tooth (3rd bottom tooth) during this time, and had a huge cold sore thing where the tooth was coming in. What was particularly sucky is that you were stuck in a CAR in a CAR SEAT for a large portion of this time period, and you couldn’t even have snacks to distract you because your mouth hurt. There was much heartbreaking screaming and crankiness and overall tension. We still made it to Glacier National Park, and because it was a freak year with snowstorms in June (we even drove THROUGH a snowstorm when we were travelling from Washington to Montana), the park had snow on the ground and it was simply beautiful set against all of the spring growth.

The original plan had been for you and your Daddy to fly home from Missoula, and then Ozo and I were going to take our time driving home, and I was going to get extra work done while I stayed in hotel rooms along the way. By myself. Then you got sick. And I couldn’t’ bear the thought of being away from you because I was kind of freaked out about you being sick . And I didn’t want your poor Daddy to fly home with you because you were prone to screaming. A lot. So, we ate the plane ticket, and I forfeited four days TO MYSELF to instead drive home with a cranky toddler. THAT was when I really realized that I was a mother.

Overall, the whole road trip was amazing. I got to know you out of our normal context. It’s one thing to know how you react to events in your normal routine. It was quite another thing to find out how you react to unpredictable events. We had a good time.

After we got home, my best friend Dani visited for a few days, and you two had a great time together. Someday, when you ask about the tattoos on my ankles, I will tell you that “anam cara” means soul friend, and that my soul friend, known as your “auntie Buddon”, got the same phrase tattooed on her back, and that we got those tattoos during this particular visit.

You are what so many of the celebrity pediatricians (Dr. Karp, Dr. Sears, Dr. Greene) call “spirited”. That means that you FEEL things. You don’t just get a little happy. You absolutely shine and radiate love and generosity. You have a HUGE heart. It also means that when you are pissed, it is a mess. Your Nanna (your Daddy’s mom), who birthed and raised eleven children and now works as a nanny, has commented on the intensity of your resistance and protest. My mother, after watching you for a week, said you were indeed, “not an easy child”. Here, all this time, she had thought I was exaggerating. She was amazed by your passion and your tenacity. It’s one thing to have a temper (like your mama). It’s quite another to be so damn tenacious with your tantrums (like your father). I hope it serves you well later in life. The challenge for me is to try to teach you coping skills and emotional management skills that I myself have never mastered. I will try my best for you. I am not always calm. I am not always kind. I yell more than I like and other times I just completely shut down. But I am trying to be something else, something more, because I love you, and I know that the most powerful way we learn is through example. I am learning about deep breaths and just LETTING. IT. GO. I am trying to teach you to do the same.

My mother also told me I was good mother, as evidenced by the fact that I am convinced I am a bad mother. She explained that truly “bad” mothers aren’t worried about their mothering skills. That’s the problem. They don’t care. Good parents agonize and ruminate and struggle to be the parent they want to be. If rumination is really a key component of parenting, then maybe I’m in the top percentile after all.

At the end of June, we all traveled to Washington, DC so that I could go to a conference. It was your first flight experience. You are, for the most part, what I would consider a good sleeper. You go down without a struggle, and love your crib. In fact, you won’t sleep anywhere but a crib, unless it’s perhaps a pack-n-play or car seat. You like your own space. The down side of you being a good sleeper is that you won’t fall asleep, or stay asleep, in arms. When I initially booked the flight, you were at an age where you could still be fairly entertained on my lap. Not so by 16 months of age. You wouldn’t sleep, and you were pissed about being confined. It would have been ABSOLUTELY worth it to have purchased a ticket for you, because you actually like the car seat. And you probably would have slept. The irony is that on 3 out of 4 of our flights, there were empty seats. I should have taken Leigh’s advice and schlepped the car seat along. In any event, for all of the struggle, you at least got some plastic wings. And you met some very nice older grandma types who offered to try to entertain you. I let them take you. And thanked them enthusiastically.

During July, you spent a lot of time with your uncle Matt because I had a teaching job that required me to be gone for about 6 hours every day, and your Daddy was working a lot too. You two had a lovely time together. In August, your Daddy and I travelled to Boston for six days, and your Mamma (my mom) came to stay with you. She simply adored you, in spite of your tantrums. Although I missed you, it was nice for your Daddy and I to have some time together to rediscover ourselves aside from being parents. There have been considerably less arguments since we returned, and I think that’s probably a good thing for you too. You were so excited when you and Mamma picked us up at the airport, you just giggled nonstop and kept giving me big noisy “mwah!” kisses all over. I didn’t realize how much I missed you until I saw you that day. I’m smiling now just thinking about it.

In terms of random developmental stuff, you cut your 7th tooth during the road trip and your 8th tooth followed the next week. You cut your first four molars AT THE SAME TIME right after the Boston trip. You are now cutting two more.

You are very sweet when you want to be, giving great big hugs and loud sloppy kisses. You also have a bad temper (I cannot emphasize this enough) and are prone to lashing out by hitting or throwing things. The “Happiest Toddler on the Block” book and DVD by Dr. Karp have helped considerably, but when you are upset, you often get completely out of control and don’t know how to stop. Sometimes, giving you some time alone helps. Sometimes, you just need space, and will calm down if put in your crib. Maybe it helps you save face in front of me. Other times, I don’t know what you need, but we’re working on it.

You used to use the potty pretty consistently, but around the same time the tantrums escalated, the pottying stopped. We’ve backed off of the whole thing for awhile, but in the last few days, you’ve actually signed “potty” and wanted to go to the toilet. We are careful not to praise you too much, lest you feel pressured or decide to not go just to spite us. I think it’s amazing that you use the toilet at all.

You stopped nursing in May, but even now you occasionally pretend to nurse. You have totally lost your latch, so you don’t actually get very far with that (even though I do still have milk). You mastered a spoon and then a fork, before you decided to just start using your hands. Sunflower butter hair gel, anyone? You are pickier about food lately, but overall still a good eater. You do not seem to care for milk. You love berries, bananas, cheese, crackers, and peaches.

You love the dogs, cats, babies, and books about animals or babies. You love your blocks, and are fascinated by things that go (trains, planes, automobiles, bicycles, buses, etc.). You want to fill things, empty things, push and pull things. Anything. You still love water, and love to blow bubbles in the water. Now you’ve developed a fondness for bubble baths. You love your sleep sacks, and won’t let me take them completely off in the morning, so I unzip them, turn the bottom inside-out, and make them into “capes”. You love hats, necklaces, scarves, and anything that you can easily put on your body as a fashion accessory. You were obsessed with washing your hands, and love your toothbrush (though you suck on it more than brush with it). You love music. You love the movie Monsters, Inc. You will watch the entire thing in one sitting. It’s kind of creepy. You love turning light switches on and off and pressing buttons of any kind. You are fascinated with electronic devices, and are especially enamored with the espresso maker.

You can run. You try to climb everything. You can use the big boy slide at the playground. You are trying to jump. You have great balance. You are very physically engaged with your world. You sometimes resist your naps lately, and September 8th was the first time in your short life that you went the entire day without a nap of any kind. The end of the day was a disaster. You still need naps, even if you don’t know it yet. We went to a toddler “yoga” class, which was kind of like herding kittens, but since then, you love to at least lay on a yoga mat. With your Tiggy. Because Tiggy still goes everywhere with you. You aren’t always willing to point to your own body parts, but you will point to them on Tiggy. You know how to point to your nose, ears, eyes, mouth, belly, hands, and feet. You will give high fives, or “footie fives” that are just high fives with your foot. You can stack five blocks. You enjoy chasing birds and hugging other children. Sometimes you knock them over with the force of your love, but that’s okay.

We started a once-a-week parent-toddler class at the university, and on the first day of class, you managed to climb into a bin of tiny pom-poms. The bin was designed for filling cups with the fluffy things and dumping them out and just playing with them. Nope. Not good enough for you. You climbed right in without any warning. The teacher said, “now there’s something no one else has thought of”. And that is how you roll. You do things just a little differently than many other children. The second time we went, I was glad that I brought a change of clothes, because you climbed into a water bin and lay down. This was after you had been intermittently obsessed with playing in the sinks. The teacher now calls you “our water boy”. How appropriate for an Aquarius child. You really are the poster child for that astrological sign–science be damned. You also refused the little shakable bells that everyone used for the good-bye song, seeking out a drum instead. People remarked on your sense of rhythm. You rock.

My favorite time of day with you is bedtime. You have a bath and then we read books and it’s one of the few times of day that you are consistently snuggly. Many other kids your age will still sit on their mama’s laps and want to be held, but you want to go, go, go, on your own unless something frightens you. Then you turn into Velcro. Briefly. Before you run off to do more of your experiments.

You know about 50 signs, but only say a handful of words. I have been kind of worried about that lately, but since you don’t show a lack of communication skills, I am less worried than if you were showing warning signs of autism. I think you are just working on other things and signs are easier than words, so that’s what you choose. You will say cat, dog, mama, dada, bath, car, and binky. Mostly you just say the first syllable. When you say cat, you sort of squeal it in a high-pitched voice, as if the tone and the syllables are inseparable. It makes me laugh every time.

We had a well-baby visit this week, and after hearing about your tantrums and tenacity, our lovely naturopath asked a few other questions about your physical health and suggested a homeopathic supplement for you to try. We’ll see how that goes.

I have made it a habit over the last few months to take time after you have gone to sleep to just go and look at while you sleep. I do this because it reminds me that you were once so very tiny, and now you have tripled in size (27 and a half pounds, 34 and a half inches as of yesterday). It reminds me of how quickly the time passes, and that I will long for THIS time the same way that I long for the times when you were younger. It also reminds me that even now, you are still just a baby. It’s easy to forget how fragile you are when we are moving through the day and I am putting out emotional fires. But when I watch you sleep, it is so clear to me that you are still so very small, and that I am so very lucky. I work to carry that feeling with me into each and every new day. I strive to just live each day as it unfolds, rather than struggle to make it conform to my plans. I want to ENJOY you, rather than just parent you. Because there is so much to enjoy, when I just let us be.

I also recently revisited my pregnancy journal. It was filled with so much hope and anxiety, and it’s surreal to revisit it now that you’re actually HERE and have been for some time. At one point, I remarked that I hoped you would be filled with curiosity and love to laugh. Both of these things are definitely a part of who you are. So I try to remember that I WANTED you to be curious, even if it means that I have to comb strange things out of your hair, worry about whether fruit pits will work their way out, and rescue socks from the VCR. I asked for it. As for your laughter–hearing you laugh is the highlight of any day. I hope that as you grow and look back on your childhood, the ratio of laughter to tears will be ridiculously disproportionate. I would consider that a huge success, considering our temperaments.

I love you Albiegondas.

Love, Mama

I’m just going to skip the part where I apologize for being late on your update…

You’ve been through a lot of changes since your last update. First of all, you weaned yourself. There are many who would say that it wasn’t “true” child-led weaning because you use binkies and sippy cups. I think babies are not so easily fooled and I am just prone to guilt-tripping myself. If the average age of weaning worldwide is between 2 and 3, then for every child who nurses to the age of 4, there should be one who weans at 1. That’s how averages usually work.

I wasn’t sure at first if it was a nursing strike, or a real weaning, but since the days kept rolling by without you nursing and I wasn’t engorged, I figured it wasn’t really all that sudden. It just seemed like it to me. You’d really only been nursing once a day, if that. Of course, I was devastated. But I’ll get over it.

On the plus side, you actually hug me more and cuddle more than you did when you were still nursing. I am more than happy to provide that comfort for you.

My favorite story from the last month is a Tale of Two Tiggers. You have had a stuffed Tigger that you absolutely adore since last September. The problem is that it’s not really washable (though we washed it anyway) and we could not find a spare. I finally found them at Target and bought about 6 of them. Just to be safe.

We presented you with a “new” Tiggy while you were holding “old” (now stashed in a sentimental box) Tiggy. You picked up one and then the other. You squeezed the paw on one, and then the other. You squeezed the beanie butt of one, and then the other. You picked each one up and tasted it. Then you cast the new Tiggy aside, rejected. I laughed so hard I almost peed myself. Toddlers are natural scientists. Luckily, we snuck the newbie into your crib while you were asleep, and without having the old one as a comparison, you were fooled.

Sometime in the last month, my sweet boy was replaced with a tantrum spewing pod person. The onset of tantrums coincided with two other events that I think are significant (recall that I am a psychology grad student). First of all, you were no longer fooled by the baby in the mirror. You know it’s you. Second, you started pointing to yourself when you wanted something. In other words, you now know that you exist. And by god, you have opinions and you will not be swayed. When I tell you no and remove you from a situation, I just go ahead and gently lay you on the floor, because if I don’t, you will fling yourself on the floor and bonk your head. So I just go ahead and help you out with that.

Other random stuff:

You love to climb. Everything. You love to dance, and have your own sign for music that looks kind of like you are conducting the song. You are pickier about your food, but still a great eater. Your favorite food is whatever is on my plate. Or peaches. You love playing hide and seek or chasing games. You love car rides. You love pushing a stroller around. You have no new teeth (still 4 on top and 2 on bottom). You love the Cosby show more than Sesame Street. All these years later, I can say that it is really a great show, but good lord, the clothes are awful. You still want to wake up at 5:30, but it’s easy to get you to lay back down until after 6. You scream when initially put down for a nap (you’re down to one per day), but then will sleep for 2 to 3 hours straight. You don’t scream when put down at night. You love your bedtime routine. You love water. You love books—all books, my books, your books, magazines, whatever. You can stack 3, sometimes 4, blocks. You are running now. You try to jump but can’t quite do it yet. You like to brush your own teeth and are fascinated by shoes. You covet electronic devices of all kinds. You reliably say Dada, Dog, and Bath. You squeal with delight when I let the dogs into the house, when your Dada gets home, and when you see a cat. You love stacking things, emptying things, and scribbling.

What don’t you love? Limits. The word “no”. Having your face wiped. That’s pretty much it. It’s the “no” thing that really pisses you off. Even your Nanna, who had eleven children and is a nanny, commented on your temper. I have no idea where you got it…

You don’t have much interest in speaking, but know soooo many signs:

More, book, ball, and shoes are all pretty much signed the same, but in different contexts. Dad and phone also really close, but one involves your thumb to your ear, and the other is your forefinger. You will also sign finished, Tiggy (which is awfully close to “sleep”), Mama, eat, drink, bath, sleep, brush teeth, cereal, milk (which you now use for anything you want really badly—I take it as a compliment), water, car, bus, music, diaper, dog, bird, bye-bye, train, baby, cat, help, wash hands, binky (your own sign—you put the back of your hand to your mouth), cracker. Some of these signs you use more reliably than others, but you have successfully used them all at some point. You will also shake your head “no” and blow kisses.

Things I have learned:

• Every day is a new adventure.
• There is no "catching up" on housework–just learn to roll with it.
• My mother told me that there are times your child will be replaced with someone you do not know, and don’t really like. She was right.
• Just like I have never gotten used to the summers in Phoenix, I will never get used to waking up before 6 a.m.
• In the dictionary, next to the definition of "toddler", there should be a picture of a tornado.
• That happiness I felt when you could start entertaining yourself? It’s been replaced with horror by the level of destruction you can accomplish in five minutes.
• You know that one tone of whining that makes you want to bang your head into the floor? Your toddler will find it. And use it. Liberally. With glee.
• If all else fails, crank the music.
• If that fails, just leave the house.

Some days, I feel like I am absolutely the wrong mother for you, and others I feel like I am THE champion at toddler motherhood. There seems to be no in between. We either have good days, or horrible ones. We’re either in the groove, or NOT. But I feel blessed to have all these days with you.

Thank you, Albie, for being YOU. I don’t always like you, but I always love you. And you have made me into a better person that I would have ever been without you.

Love,

Mama

It’s only fair that I also post links to stories that inspire me and give me hope for our species.

Here’s a video (nice and short if you don’t have much time) clip of a police officer in China who took it upon herself to nurse hungry infants in during the chaos following the earthquake. She is still nursing two babies (in addition to her 6 month son).

Do you think she would be sued for doing that in the U.S.? 

Thanks to Navelgazing Midwife for the link. 

I read a great personal account of postpartum nursing (as in being a nurse caring for a pospartum mom…not postpartum breastfeeding, which would be a terribly redundant term).

This is the funniest breastfeeding related photo I have ever seen.