Baby paraphernalia, round two

Remember how last summer, I wrote about how I love to spread the Gospel of the Bouncy Chair to potential parents or gift-buyers far and wide? I got the chance to do so again yesterday at Ann Taylor. The best part: the mom-to-be's eyes lit up, and she said, "Oh yes! I so want one of those! I think my sister is going to get us one!"

Ah, that feels good, knowing that others will soon come to love the bouncy chair, too. Now that William is nearly nine months old, he no longer uses his bouncy chair. First of all, he's too big for it, and second of all, it would be boring to him at this point. So his basically just acts as a catch-all for all the debris that has no permanent home because they're in regular rotation: his jacket, his coat, the two or three hats he wears the most, the blankets that I throw over his car seat, a random pair of shoes, etc. In fact, you can't even really see the bouncy chair anymore; it's covered in stuff. But it's there, quietly doing its new job, just as you'd expect it to. We'll probably pack it away pretty soon, though.

But it got me thinking. Now that we're past the bouncy chair stage, new things have come to be the Must Have items in our lives. And I've discovered other things that would behoove all new parents to procure. Knowing some people who might find such a list useful, I thought I'd actually write this down. So, without further ado, and in no particular order, I am going to pontificate on such things here. Okay, in no particular order except for the first one.

Ahem.

The No. 1 thing that you will need, once you get beyond the real do-or-die basics like diapers, wipes, receiving blanketse, and onesies: A Philips head screwdriver. You heard it here first, folks. Everything in Baby Land seems to require this tool. I'm constantly prying off the back of the nursery monitor receivers to put in fresh AAA batteries. The back of the music box that came with the Pack n Play also has to be unscrewed. The swing needs batteries. The classical music box on the exersaucer. And even the sainted bouncy chair has a battery chamber that requires a screwdriver to get into.

Which is a nice segue to the reason fo the screwdriver: the batteries. Now, at one point, I had half thought I'd be one of those earnest parents who mostly eschewed battery-powered things in favor of good old-fashioned learning toys like blocks. Well, I still love blocks, and we do have a lot of them, but so many toys and baby items, including some downright cool ones, run on batteries these days that it's hard to avoid them. And in some cases (see bouncy chair), you probably wouldn't want to. So while William seriously digs playing with his whisk, his Mardi Gras plastic cup (Orpheus 2005, just in case you were curious), his blocks, and his strainer, he also happens to really love some of his toys that run on batteries. Right now, that includes his piano and his piggy bank. I think his brain will be just fine. Anyway, stock up on AA, AAA, C and D batteries. And get a lot, or spring for a charger and a couple sets in each size. Those monitors alone eat batteries.

What else? Well, it couldn't hurt to pick up a Fisher Price crib aquarium. William sort of ignored his for the first few months, but once he realized what it did, he developed a definite affinity for it. He can turn it off and on by himself, so it is ready-made entertainment--plus when we turn it on for him, it serves as a cue that it's time to sleep now.

The swing and the Baby Bjorn (spring for the kind with the lumbar support if you're over 30) were great when William was little (read: when he weighed less). He's spent a lot more time in his exersaucer (the Baby Einstein version) since he basically outgrew those. You all know that we call the exersaucer his "office," since that's where he gets down to the serious business of playing and making calls on his toy cell phone. It takes up a fair amount of floorspace, and yes it's a big old mess of brightly colored plastic, but it is worth it. Trust me. We throw his whisk, his strainer, a couple of rattles, and some other toys on there, and he's happy as a clam most of the time, throwing the extra toys off onto the floor and listening to them clatter around.

We love the Nuby sippy cups with the soft silicone spout, although I bought a new kind with handles by Gerber the other day, so we're going to experiment. I use a random odd assortment of plastic bowls and spoons to feed him with, so nothing earth-shattering to recommend there. But we didn't start using those until William was about five months old anyway, so those need not be on the new parents' radar, I'd think. Hmmm. What else....

Oh yes! They're not cheap, but oh, I love them. Robeez. Darling little soft leather shoes that actually stay on the baby's feet. Well, most of the time. William is devious: he manages to pull his off somehow half the time, and the other half the time, he just chews on his foot, Robeez and all. We have a royal blue choo choo train pair that he's about to outgrow, and someone gave us a gift of the navy blue baseball kind that we're about to pull out. I'm trolling for some new ones for the spring, too, but I can't make up my mind which ones to get. We did have a darling pair of brown Robeez knock-offs from Target, but William cough ate a big hole in one of them, so they've been officially retired. But for new babies, they're just decorative, not necessary. But heck, it's fun to dress up the new baby sometimes. You gotta live a little to make up for the middle-of-the-night feedings, right?

The lady in Ann Taylor asked me about diaper bags, and I realized that I never did find the Perfect Diaper Bag. We've used several, with varying degrees of success. I like the little Day Tripper bag by Lands End because it fits most of what you need for short jaunts during the day. Plus, it has a solid padded strap, and it's a black microfiber fabric, so it doesn't scream "Baby!Baby!Lookattheducksgeesesheepbearspuppieseeeeee!" I bought a larger version of it, but I hate it. It's huge and unwieldy. I carried it on the plane to Natchez last summer, and as I walked down the aisle, I accidentally whacked a few people in the face. I prefer not to carry a diaper bag that could double as a weapon. Your mileage may vary, of course. The current diaper bag in use is a black quilted Amy Coe number from Target that has these two little straps that allow the bag to hang from the stroller handles. In fact, that's why I bought it; I use it when I know I'm going to be using the Maclaren stroller, since that stroller's basket is so small. But you could probably just use a plain old backpack, and do just fine. Whatever works for you. Just make sure you carry plenty of wipes and a couple of gallon ziploc bags.

Diaper Champ versus Diaper Genie? This is only a useful debate if you're going the disposable diaper route. We have a Diaper Champ. It rules. No special name-brand read: expensive) bags required: just use regular old kitchen garbage bags.

And since we're about to make the transition to a new car seat, I'll touch on that, too. You've all probably read about the controversy over a recent Consumer Reports article on infant car seats. Another article came out this week, too, I believe, correcting some erroneous info in the first one. We have been very pleased with our Graco Snugride bucket seat, which always gets top safety ratings and isn't expensive. I'd totally recommend that brand to anyone. Plus, it's so handy to be able to carry the baby around in the bucket, stick the bucket in the stroller, and not have to constantly undo and redo car seat straps. I'll be sort of sad to banish it to the garage in the next few weeks, even though William has nearly reached the height and weight limits. His new Britax Marathon convertible seat arrived with the FedEx guy yesterday. Man, that seat is enormous. But it will be William's seat for the next few years, so we wanted a sturdy, comfortable one. Hopefully, I can fit it into my car. It only has to be rear-facing for three more months. I"ll have to give a review of it later.

So. Those are my off-the-cuff remarks. I know that some of y'all out there have opinions, too, and here's the place to post them. Add a comment and add your two cents. Stuff you love, stuff you hate, stuff you wished you'd known when you became a parent, or stuff you wish you had gotten. Or stuff you never used and think is a waste of money. (For example, we never bothered with a wipes warmer. I think it was Phuong who pointed out that the baby ought to just go ahead and get used to room-temperature wipes since who carries a wipes warmer out of the house with them?)

Opinions? I had to delete a spam comment below that was a "make money fast" come-on, but I would love to have real comments from y'all...

P.S. My screwdriver came from the toolbox full of tools that I've collected over the past 15 years or so, courtesy of my dad. The screwdriver has come in handy many, many times!

If you're happy and you know it, clap your hands

William has started to get the hang of this clapping thing. I noticed a couple of days ago that he finally opened up both hands when he brought them together. David and I have started trying to incorporate clapping into our interactions with him, and he studies us when we do it. He doesn't always immediately imitate us, but his clapping does seem to be getting more deliberate.

He's also getting very proficient in waving. He'll wave if you wave at him, but now he initiates a lot of the waving. He gets a big open-mouthed grin on his face if you wave back at him when he waves at you. Lots of waving and smiling. It's very charming. I'll give him an A in waving. Maybe even an A plus, since he has such verve and enthusiasm.

And all of a sudden, he's just started babbling up a storm. He has done a fair amount of "talking" in the past, but the amount just quadrupled a few days ago. It's funny how much his random syllables sound sort of like words. He says "Ha!" a lot when we say, "Hi!" to him, so we are pretending that it's just his version of "Hi!" And all day long, he's been saying, "Da...da....da...da." Needless to say, David loves that.

But the funniest is when he says, "keee...kaaa..." which sounds like, you guessed it, "Kitty Cat." So of course, we think that's what he's trying to say. This evening, he was in the tub, playing with his boats, when Smokey strolled into the bathroom to make sure David wasn't having more fun with William than he does with Smokey. William lunged toward the edge of the tub and said, "keeeee." Honest to God, it sounded like he was trying to say "kitty." We think that the cats are going to be the big impetus that gets him walking, too. The backwards scooting that he's doing right now just makes him mad, but once he figures out how to move forward--forward toward an unsuspecting cat---I think there will be no stopping him.

The Plague, redux

Well, the plague is back.

William threw up twice last night, and once early this morning. So far, neither David nor I have succumbed to the evil that is the Winter Gastrointestinal Bug this time around. But give it time. David ran to the grocery yesterday and stocked up on Gatorade, just in case.

William has kept all his liquids down all day, and despite sleeping a lot more than usual, seems to be doing okay. So hopefully, this is the end of it. This time. And gosh, I hope David doesn't get the bug. His birthday is the 18th, and it seems like he's always sick on his birthday. It'd be nice to skip that little ersatz tradition this year.


In the meantime, to entertain and delight you, the public, here are some shots that I took on Saturday, before the Plague descended upon the House of Wyckoff:

William, wearing a fetching necklace of Fisher Price pop beads:


















Boys in navy sweaters:


















The king of all makeshift toys and a tried-and-true William favorite: the lowly household whisk:



















More of the boys in their navy sweaters (it was bitterly cold here all weekend):

A long-awaited dream

I'm still reeling a bit from disbelief. I'm a little giddy, in fact. William slept for...wait for it...almost TWELVE straight hours last night. That's TWELVE. Twelve! The big 1-2!

I never ever, in my wildest dreams, thought such a thing could happen. I remember my friend Mary Clare telling me about how her daughter Leland, who's about six months older than William, did that, and how glorious it was when it finally happened. And I thought, "Wow. William will never do that."

He actually slept until about 7:15 yesterday morning, and David and I wondered what was going on. When David crept into check on him, William just smiled and waved at him. Same thing this morning. David couldn't stand it any longer at about 8:30 (I was still luxuriating in bed--my own bed--at 8:30!). He went into the nursery to peek at William, who was playing with his Tigger toy and sucking contentedly on his binky. David is not sure if he was already awake, or if the noise of the door opening woke him up. But still! We last saw him at 8:45 last night, when we put him into his crib with his "Goodnight Moon" book.

And even weirder...William has been taking a nap now for an hour and a half. That's after a crazy long night of sleep.

I know that some sleepless nights do still lie ahead of us. William hasn't started teething yet, so I know that when that starts up, he'll be fussy. I actually dreamed that he suddenly got two bottom teeth, not that my dreams count for anything.

But overall...I love this age. I love having an older baby. William has a more predictable routine now, and I know what to expect, generally speaking. It was so hard when William was little and ate constantly and never slept for any extended length of time. I never really believed that it would improve, even though intellectually I knew that it would. And it did. And thank God for it, too.

And he's fun. William always thinks I'm funny. It's like having the world's best audience for your jokes. The easiest way to make him squeal with laughter is to suddenly say "I'm going to get you!" and then grab him and kiss him all over. He loves the "surprise." It doesn't get old, even after about a dozen times in a row.

He's just a happy little guy. Here are a couple pictures of him in the tub the other night. I don't think it would be an exaggeration to say bathtime is his favorite time of day.



















Every night David pulls him out of his tub so that I can wrap him in a towel, and we both say "whee!" That used to elicit a big grin from the little prince. But now he just looks vaguely dissatisfied because he'd rather stay in there and play with his bath toys (a Baby Lego ship and a boat with three stacking toys that pour water) and splash water all over his parents. If he could talk, he'd probably, say, "Aw, man." I guess we'll have to start bathtime a little earlier nowawadays so he'll have longer to play.

Snow!

When I opened the blinds in William's room this morning, I was stunned to see very light flurries, almost a suggestion of snow, flying sideways through the air.

"Look, William, that's snow," I said, as he sat in his crib and cheerfully banged his hard plastic blocks together.

About 15 minutes later, I started seeing large wet flakes of snow. And I realized that the empty tree branches and rooftops of neighboring houses were taking on a distinct white cast. Real snow!

I picked William up and took him onto what passes for our front porch. "Look, this is snow," I told him. "Like the snow in our Snowy Day book. Look!"

William stretched out his hand and stared at the flakes, which were flying heavier and faster than ever. Finally he spoke. "Caaaaa!" he crowed.

Absolutely, kiddo. He knew it was something new and unusual. He knew the snow was something special. Unfortunately I have no pictures to commemorate William's first snowy day. We had to hustle off to the doctor's office, and by the time we returned, the sun had come out and melted all the snow. Oh well.

Here he is, wearing his warm clothes and his hat, having shed his coat, shoes and heavy blanket.

It's just lunch

I've been going back and forth on whether to introduce a third daily meal for William.

William has been eating breakfast and dinner, in addition to his breastfeeding sessions, for some time now. We're down to four, occasionally five, nursing sessions a day, but William is eating a fair amount of food at breakfast and dinner. He typically has a big bowl of oatmeal or cereal plus a jar of fruit for breakfast. For dinner, he eats a jar of meat and at least one jar of veggies, sometimes two or else an extra jar of fruit.

But I can't quite decide if it's time to start giving him lunch or not. I've encountered moms who are serving their babies three meals a day, and I've also talked to moms who didn't introduce a third meal of solid food until much later. David suggested that perhaps I try giving him something like one serving of fruit or veggies for lunch, see how it goes.

I looked up a sample menu for babies William's age in our American Academy of Pediatrics book--the one with the reassuringly confident title of "The Complete and Authoritative Guide : Caring for Your Baby and Young Child, Birth to Age 5." For babies eight months to twelve months, it recommends the following:

Breakfast: 1/4 to 1/2 cup of cereal or mashed egg yolk, 1/4 to 1/2 cup fruit, and 4-6 oz of breastmilk (or formula)

(Check. We're doing good. Except that William gets his breastmilk an hour or two before he has his sit-down meal.)

Snack: 4 to 6 oz juice, 1/4 cup diced cheese or cooked veggies

(Snack? We're supposed to give them snacks already?)

(Editorial note: David's not big on giving babies lots of juice: too much sugar and extra calories. 4 oz a day, max. I don't even give William juice yet. He's had a little bit, diluted with lots of water, but he's not super-enthusiastic about it, so I rarely bother.)

Lunch: 1/4 to 1/2 cup yogurt or cottage cheese, 1/4 to 1/2 cup yellow veggies, 4 to 6 oz breastmilk

(We're waiting 'til W turns nine months old to offer yogurt. I guess the same goes for cottage cheese, although I hadn't even thought about that.)

Snack: 1 teething biscuit or cracker, 1/4 cup diced meat or cheese

(There they go with that snack again. Well, I know one thing: no more teething biscuits around here. I should have listened to my friends who warned that those Biter Biscuits are unbelievably messy. Boy howdy. I will probably let William finish up the box that we already have, but he's going to be naked or close to it before I allow him to eat them.)

Dinner: 1/4 cup diced poultry, meat or tofu, 1/4 to 1/2 cup green veggies, 1/4 cup noodles, pasta, rice or potato, 1/4 cup fruit, 4 to 6 oz breastmilk.

(Does that seems like A LOT of food to you, or is it just me?)

Before bedtime: 6 to 8 oz breastmilk or formula, and don't forget to wash your mouth out with water or brush teeth afterward.

(We already know about the teeth issue here.)

Of course, W is on the young end of the age spectrum for that menu, so we haven't gotten to all the foods yet. He's a good eater, though, and he's even gotten over his early aversions to things like bananas and apples, so it's not difficult to find things to feed him at all. I just want to make sure I'm feeding him enough, you know?

Er, not that he looks like he's in any imminent danger of starving.

No, he's not crawling yet, and I'm okay with that

Allow me a few minutes to be cranky.

William is eight and a half months old. He's a great kid. He's curious, funny, a good sleeper (usually), a good eater, loves to laugh, and loves to play with his toys and books. He does not crawl yet. He can squirm his way backwards, or around in a circle, and he can get up on his hands and knees. He can even pull up to standing with a minimum of assistance. But he does not crawl yet. This is not a problem. With the current "Back to sleep" campaign aimed at reducing SIDS, it's not uncommon for those back-sleeping babies to not crawl in a traditional manner as early as stomach-sleeping babies did in the past. Some babies never crawl in the traditional way; they combat crawl or scoot around on their bottoms. So the fact that William is now crawling yet is not only not worrisome, it's not even unusual.

So I'm getting a little weary of the occasional random people acting either 1) superior or 2)falsely and irritatingly concerned for my child's development when I report (only when asked, mind you) that no, he's not crawling. No, he's not delayed, you silly fools. No, we're not worried. And you're just pissing me off by acting like he's got something wrong with him. Would you like me to cite the American Academy of Pediatrics on developmental milestones, or would you rather I just ring up my pediatrician husband on the phone and get him to talk some sense into you? Oh yes, and by the way, I wasn't an early walker, and I have a master's degree, so I think my son will be just fine, thanks.

These are the same people who act like it's a travesty that William doesn't have any teeth yet. Um, no. It's not a travesty. A, it's normal, and B, he's still nursing, so not having early teeth is nice for me. As my friend Beth points out, it all evens out, and no kid is going to be waiting for his baby teeth to come in when he's graduating from high school.

Now to be fair, I know lots of people who are perfectly nice when they ask questions about William. They don't act like their child is better for somehow having mastered a developmental milestone at an earlier age (see: Beth, mentioned above, my friend Jennifer, and numerous others). They're just trading notes, asking perfectly normal questions, and that's just fine with me. I learn a lot from those people, and I'm glad to have them around.

It's usually the people who really don't know me or William who use that grating tone of voice--you know the one:"He's not crawling yet??? Oh my goodness. Well..."

Grr. They make me all defensive. Sometimes it's not what you say, it's how you say it that really matters.

So, friends, if you catch me using That Tone when asking a question about your perfectly normal and adorable baby, you just let me know so I can cut it out. Now, if you're doing something like giving your baby scissors to play with or a bottle of Red Bull to drink, I might have a hard time shutting up, but I doubt that anyone I know would do something like that.

All right. I feel better now. Thanks.

W's television preferences

A few minutes ago, I left William on my bed, surrounded by pillows so he couldn't roll off. I dashed to the bathroom for just a minute; I don't normally leave him alone on my bed because you just never know when he's going to discover a way off the bed.

But anyway, I came back to find that he had somehow grabbed the television remote control and switched channels. But he wasn't watching CNN or the Food Network or heck, even Sesame Street on PBS. No, my eight month old son was avidly watching "General Hospital."

And so it begins.

The role of Horowitz will be played by William

Baby Einstein, meet Baby Horowitz.















We finally started giving William his Christmas presents. This is him practicing his music lessons on his piano. We think he likes it. He still hasn't gotten his fire engine riding toy thing that we ordered from LL Bean. We won't be able to get away with this slacker present-giving in the future, so I guess we're just milking it for all it's worth while we can!

Random William news

Let's see...

What can I tell you on the Random William News front?

William recently bit the head off his George W. Bush toy. I found the decapitated head lying next to his exersaucer the other day. No word yet on whether this was some sort of political statement.

He has also decided that he likes to read in bed. Usually we read "Goodnight Moon" to William every night before depositing him in his crib. Earlier this week, he started clutching the book tightly, so we just let him take the book to bed with him. Last evening, he did cry out at one point because the book had slid down and was blocking his access to the row of spare binkies at the crib's edge. That could have been ugly. I mean no one gets between William and his binky buffet. But other than that potentially nasty little episode, he seems to like to have the book with him, and really, who are we to deny the little guy access to books, right? David said that when he checked on William early yesterday morning, William had both of his hands tucked behind his head, with his elbows sticking out, and his book down by his feet. I guess he got tired of reading it at some point in the night, and he doesn't have a nightstand to put it on.

Oh yes. On the developmental milestone front, William is learning to clap. This is fun. It's pretty funny, too. David likes to sing "If You're Happy and You Know It (Clap Your Hands)" to him, and sometimes William will swing his arms together like he's trying to clap. He hasn't quite gotten the hang of opening up both hands when banging them together--often one is clenched like a fist--but I think he'll catch on eventually. He's still doing a lot of waving, and oh my, his wave just cracks me up. So does his babbling. Sometimes, I swear he's saying "hi." That always provokes a flurry of "Hi! Hi! Hi, William! Hi!" from me. I guess that's the sort of thing that makes non-parents look at us parent types like we're crazy.

And William attended his first birthday party this week. I mean, it wasn't his first birthday; it was the first party for someone else's birthday. Our next door neighbor's younger daughter was turning nine, so she ceremoniously brought over a pink and purple Barbie invitation addressed to Ms. Jennifer and William. Of course we went. We bought a bunch of markers and drawing paper for a gift, too. William mostly sat in my lap or in his Bumbo seat, but he seemed to have a good time. No cake for him, which is sorta sad. I mean, isn't half the point of a party to eat cake? I guess his time is coming, though.

I say that a lot, don't I? Ah well.

Reading time

There once was a young boy named Will
Reading gave him a thrill
He took his first look
And stuck his whole head in a book
that came from a store in Nashville.

Okay, no, I'm never going to win any awards for my poetry. I'll keep my day job...er, get a day job.

On a typical day, I try to read a few books to William right after we get up in the morning. We have a decent selection of board books, so I try to rotate them. He likes to scratch his fingers at the pictures and gnaw on the corners of the books, but as long as he's enjoying himself, I figure it's all good. He loves them. He has come to expect us to read "Goodnight Moon" to him every night, but he seems to love reading other books, too. Today, I pulled out Dr. Seuss' "The Foot Book," "Caterpillar Spring," and Baby Einstein's "Neighborhood Animals" and a children's bible.

I, big sap that I am, got all sad when reading part of one bible story to him. You all know how I am with editorial comments, so I'm sitting there reading the story about Noah's Ark to him and trying to not add on comments like "Well, actually, God was very angry at men for being bad, and oh yeah, he actually sent the storm that flooded the earth, and well, many scholars believe this is all an allegory anyway and it's pointless to look for an ark on a mountaintop." And then there's the creation story, and I wanted so badly to say, "Well, there are actually several creation accounts in Genesis. There's the account by the priestly writer, and the one by the yahwehist..."

But I resisted (mostly). This is supposed to be fun Reading Time with Mommy after all, not Dissecting the Bible for Babies. But then I got to the story about Moses. The story tells how Moses' mother feared for the life of her son, so she placed him in a basket and then put the basket in the river. Another woman, a princess, found him and raised him as her own son. The reason I'm a big sap is that I read the part about the mother releasing her son in a flimsy little reed basket into the river, not knowing if she'd ever see him again, and I got a little teary-eyed. I mean, we don't even know for sure how much of that story is true, but man, I'd never thought much about that part of it until now. The thought of putting William in a basket and sailing him down a river, even if it were to try to elude danger, well...let's just say that it wouldn't be too much of an exaggeration to say that it gives me heart palpitations. And why doesn't the bible tell you more about how Moses' biological mother must have felt? What ever happened to her? Did she ever get over the loss of her son? Did she find out what really happened to him? Did she have more children? Why, why can't we know more about this? Think how helpful this would be to regular old readers; it's the sort of thing we can relate to.

Is that one of the things that they never tell you about parenthood until you experience it yourself? Suddenly you have a whole new take on things that you've never really given much thought to, and sometimes it's disturbing? Like I can't watch television shows that have dead babies or babies in serious danger. It makes me upset. I think about how I'd feel in that situation, and my whole stomach clenches up and presses itself into my diaphragm, making it hard to breathe.

The other new, much more mundane thing that I've recently experienced as a result of parenthood is tendonitis in my right wrist. I've been wearing a splint on it for a couple of weeks. See, the books tell you things like oh, you'll lose a bunch of hair after the baby's born (nope) or it'll take a while for the weight to come off after you've given birth (yes, but it did eventually come off). No one tells you that you might get pains in your wrists and lower arms from constantly lifting a heavy baby. I mean, yes, when you spell it out like that, it sounds perfectly logical. But it had never occurred to me. Where's my worker's comp, huh? Seriously, I should write a new-parent book and include all this stuff. Maybe somebody, somewhere, would benefit from it.

Edit: At the behest of my father, I went back and reread the beginning of Exodus in the real bible, not the kiddy version. Turns out that the pharaoh's daughter allowed Moses' real mother to come nurse and take care of baby Moses, so she at least got to be with her son again and know that he grew up just fine. That makes the mother in me feel much better. I mean, it's still lousy that this other woman got to call Moses her son and be his mother, but at least his real mother got to be part of his life while he was growing up...and more importantly, she didn't see him for the last time when she put that basket on the water. The kiddie bible should have added that part for nervous moms like me; after all, who do they think is reading this stuff to their kids?

Happy New Year!

Happy New Year!

David and I woke up this morning just before 8 a.m. and realized that we still hadn't heard from William yet. I had heard him mutter once around 7, and David said he heard him cry out once around 6, but I guess both were false alarms.

I mean, the last time we really heard from him was when he looked like this:

















(Okay, we did wake him up, give him a short bath, feed him and then put him back to bed. And David did give him some grape-flavored Tylenol around 12:30, so I guess technically, William rang in the new year almost on time. But I think that's just a technicality.)

We trooped into his room about ten after eight, and there, wide awake in his crib was the little prince, smiling up at us and churning his legs. He was in a pretty darn good mood for having skipped his typical 5 or 6 a.m. morning feed.

We all piled on the couch together in a cozy bundle of pajamas to watch the Rose Parade. Then I slipped back to our room for a minute, but even down the hall, I was able to hear the following conversation that David had with William:

"It's not 2006 anymore. It's 2007," David told William. "It's not the year of your birth anymore. It's 200. It's a time for new starts, new resolutions."

He continued, "My New Years's resolution is to exercise more...maybe yours could be to learn to walk. That would be a good New Year's resolution, wouldn't it? And maybe to learn to eat big people food. What do you think about that?

When I came back in the living room, David informed me that William's resolutions also included "learning to talk" and "cutting back on his binky addiction."

Sounds reasonable to me. Since William has four resolutions, maybe I won't make any. I'll just help him work on his. I pretty much gave up on resolutions years ago anyway. You know that old saying "Know Thyself?" Well, I know myself, and I know myself has no business making resolutions that I'm not going to keep.

So, resolution-setting over and decided, we settled in to watch the parade. When the mayor of Pasadena came onscreen, the cameras showed a close-up of the mayor waving. William studied the mayor closely and leaned forward. Then he began to wave back at the mayor. For the next few minutes, every time the camera showed someone waving, William waved right back. Isn't he clever? I wonder what he'd think of a real parade, not just one on television...

Too bad he's too little for one of the best New Year's Day traditions: eating black eyed peas for good luck. I ate some extra ones for him, though.

What're you doing New Year's Eve?

I used to work at Talbot's (a dress shop, for those of you not in the know) during Christmas vacations in college, and the song "What Are You Doing New Year's Eve?" was featured on one of the soundtracks one year. It wasn't one of the worst songs on the CD, but I grew to dread it, just the same, after hearing it forty billion times while folding the same pile of turtleneck sweaters over and over.

So, why, you may be asking, would I refer to that song here on this blog, a place where I chronicle the life and times of my son? Er, because I couldn't think of a single other song that had "New Year's Eve" in it, other than all the Christmas songs that tack on New Year's as sort of a required afterthought.

Which is a very, very longwinded way of saying...we're not doing too much to usher out the old year and ring in the new. William is still recuperating from his cold/ear infection/RSV/bronchiolitis/flu/plague, and it's a series of ups and downs. Isn't that what life with a baby is like, though: a series of ups and downs? He was pretty fussy late yesterday afternoon and last night, even with a dose of Tylenol. But this morning, he was all smiles, ready for his cereal and pears. He's been in a better mood most of the day, give or take a little while this afternoon. We're pretty relieved. It's not that we really thought he was that sick, but you just never know. I'm a nervous first-time mom, after all, and David's a nervous first-time dad with too much information, so it was nice to see the temperature on the thermometer drop to a normal level today. And even nicer to see William ready to dance and giggle again.

But I couldn't let the holiday go completely uncommemorated. To let William celebrate NYE, I let him have a new food. Big people food, in fact. I gave him a piece of zwieback toast. (How on earth do you pronounce "zwieback," by the way? No one seems to know. I have to dance around saying it out loud for fear of mispronouncing it, because I dearly hate to mispronounce words and sound stupid or misinformed in front of other people, especially if they know how to pronounce the word correctly. Although I suppose in this case, I'm safe. But I digress.) However it's pronounced, the zwieback toast was a big, big hit.

Here he is, just getting started:















In some ways, I felt kind of silly, acting like giving him a piece of zwieback toast was a big deal. I mean, it's sort of like handing an adult something super exciting like, oh, I don't know, melba toast or fat-free cottage cheese and saying, "Whoop it up, bay-bee!" But since the closest thing William's had to real food is oatmeal or liquid turkey, I guess maybe it kind of is a big deal. Oh wait, I forgot. He did get smushed-up real banana one day. So this isn't his first real departure from baby food after all. But it was his first big experience with food that really looks and mimics real adult food, the stuff that he sees us eating and stares at with great baby longing in his big blue eyes.

By the way, zwieback toast, when gummed into submission by an eager baby, is messy. Messy with a capital M. Messy as in requiring multiple paper towels and baby wipes to clean up. Which I suppose makes it that much more fun for William. What the heck, right? He's been sick. He deserves a little messy fun!















By the way, David would like me to report that William is now attemping to clap his hands. We often clap our hands and say "Yay, William!" when he does something good (or even when he just sits there and looks cute). And we clap his hands together for him when we do "Pattycake." Now he's working on imitating us. He hasn't quite gotten it down yet: he tends to not open both of his hands up, and he doesn't always actually bang them together in front of him at the same time. But he's getting there.

P.S. No. 2: While I was writing this blog entry, I could hear William banging around with his toys in the living room. But I guess I got too engrossed with my writing because I didn't realize that he had become very quiet. Now, if he was a toddler, that would mean Trouble. But because he's still a baby, I just wondered what was going on. This is what I walked out to see.
















I guess there was just too much fun and excitement this evening for one little guy to handle.















Happy New Year's Eve, everyone! I plan to be snoozing, just like my son, when the actual hour of midnight arrives. Hope everyone has a good night.

Sick but happy

William says, "I may be sick, but I'm still happy..."




















And he also wanted y'all to know that yes, he is drinking plenty of fluids and staying hydrated.

















Breaking news: William felt rather warm to me earlier, so I gave him some Tylenol, and he took a long morning nap. This afternoon, David worried that he might have a fever, and sure enough, the thermometer registered 101.9. David dug out his otoscope to have a look in the little prince's ears, and he saw some redness and whatever else signifies otitis media. So David just left for the hospital to pick up an antibiotic for William. Poor baby. I just put him down for his third nap of the day, and you can tell he doesn't feel well. He was starting to fall asleep on my lap, and he almost never does that anymore. Hopefully the antibiotic will knock out whatever's making him sick.

Sick baby, again

It must be lousy to be a sick baby.

It's no picnic, being the sick mother of a sick baby, either, but at least I have control over my ownself. A sick baby, on the other hand, can't paw through the medicine cabinet for some cough drops or blow his nose to get some of that gunk out of his head. He can't change himself out of his sweat-soaked pajamas when his fever breaks, or demand a popsicle to assuage the ache in his throat.

William (and David and I) came down with some kind of cold while we were in Nashville. He wasn't acting overly fussy or anything, but he was coughing heavily, and he was wheezing a bit. But he didn't have a fever and wasn't acting listless or anything too alarming. I wasn't too worried, figuring he had the Typical Winter Cold, but David's pediatrician brain began to go into overdrive. Could be bronchiolitis, could be RSV, could even be the beginning of asthma!

This is what happens when your daddy's a doctor: your symptoms either get ignored with a casual flap of the hand, or else you get hauled into the doctor's office for a battery of tests. Guess which one William was subjected to today.

Poor little guy had to be held down while a doctor pumped saline drops into his nose and then suctioned the mucus out with a bulb syringe. In the understatement of the week, possibly the month, that proved to be very...shall we say, unpopular with young Master Wyckoff. Unpopular, unacceptable, uninvited, downright AWFUL OHMYGODWHYAREYOUDOINGTHISTOME STOPSTOPSTOPSTOP AAAAAAAAAAARRRGGGHHHHHHHHH!


I really sincerely hope that he does not have RSV. If that's what the test is like, I hate to think of the treatments. Dr. Perkins fretted that he'd never want to see her again, since he might associate her with that little procedure. But he's usually pretty forgiving.

To add insult to injury, the nurse had to hold William down again so that he could administer some Albuterol through an inhaler to him. David was worried about the possibility of asthma, given the wheezing, which is why he asked for William to receive some of that medicine. I held William in my lap and tried to hold his arms down so that he didn't batter the nurse too much. After all that effort, the Albuterol didn't seem to make much difference, one way or another. Except of course to traumatize William, since he had to sit there while this big bear of a man clamped a big plastic mask up over his mouth and nose. There are a lot of things that I don't enjoy, and holding down my child while he turns purple with anger and fear and thrashes around, whipping his head from side to side, is pretty much tops on my current list.

David advised me to let William play with the inhaler chamber, so he could get used to it. It might make him less afraid of it, David suggested. So I let William play with it (read: gnaw on it) this afternoon when he was playing with his blocks and his rings. He did seem a little less angry about the inhaler treatment this evening. At least he knew the treatment wouldn't last very long and then he'd be allowed to fling the inhaler around with glee.

And can I just say...God, I love William. After all that trauma this morning, he still gave me hugs and kisses later on when we got home. And I couldn't even sing songs to him because I lost my voice, so I'm all hoarse. He gets held down for scary medical treatments, doesn't even get to hear his favorite song ("The Wheels on the Bus") and yet he still loves me. He's such a good kid.

More Christmas photos

William with Grandaddy Aaron:















William with Mama Dee:




















William with his mommy and daddy:

It's Christmastime in the city

I imagine that Christmas can be a bit confusing to an eight-month-old baby. People start singing overly catchy songs about bells and partridges and stars and stuff, and there are twinkly lights everywhere, even on trees and bushes, and there's this big fat man with a white beard and a loud fuzzy red suit shouting "Ho ho ho." I mean, you can just see William wondering, "What's THAT all about?"

But if William could talk, I bet he'd say that Christmas means two things: silly hats and wrapping paper.
















We had a lovely Christmas trip to Nashville. Well, I say "lovely," but I have to admit that we did seem to spread mayhem in our wake. As loyal readers of this blog know, William had a rather colorful bout of gastroenteritis a couple weeks ago, and well, it seems that some spores might have hijacked a ride on some of his stuff and stowed away to Nashville. David joked that "Typhoid William" brought the plague with him to Nashville. Poor Aaron, then Diane, fell victim to that fun little virus. And apparently Mark was in the throes of it when we left. Nothing says Christmas and holiday fun like puking 'round the clock and gingerly sipping Gatorade. God, I still feel guilty about that.

But other than that...it was great! We attended a couple of parties, visited David's new office-to-be (gorgeous) and visited with my brother, John. David and I cruised around a few neighborhoods, dreaming of our future house and wishing that we could afford this house in that neighborhood or that house in this neighborhood. My parents drove up after Christmas, and while I didn't get to spend nearly enough time with them, at least I got to see them, and they got to see William. William changes every day, and I just hated the thought of them not getting to see him learning to wave or pulling up to standing, with my help.

The Wyckoffs were so lovely to be so engaged with William, too, even when they weren't feeling well. And when Aaron and Diane weren't sick, they got right down on the floor with William and played with him and his toys. Diane held him on her lap so that William could "play" the piano. And Uncle Mark taught him how to make monkey noises--that was an especially big hit. William began screeching loudly, and David speculated that it was his attempt to make the monkey noises, too. John came over to hang out and brought William a stuffed puppy that sings and counts and does all sorts of stuff, and William seemed very enamored with it. And of course, William had a stocking full of presents to explore on Christmas morning...which we rushed through so we could put him down for his nap.

It was so much fun to see William learning how to tear wrapping paper from a present, or gaze up at the lights on the Christmas tree. He's so curious about everything, so observant. He stretches his little chubby hands out to touch things, and I just want to drink in the expression on his face as he fingers an ornament on the tree or grabs for the kitty's tail. It sounds so cliched to describe it as "wonder," but that's really what it is. These days won't last forever, so I'm glad that everyone was willing to risk being sick to spend a little time with William on his first Christmas.


Unfortunately, we all seemed to get sick during the trip. William and David and I all have a cold, and William and I have been doing a lot of coughing the last few days. For that reason, we decided to curtail some of our social activities the last few days. That means that we didn't get to visit with some of my friends. But we're coming back. That was the beauty of this particular holiday trip to Nashville: we're coming back and soon! Usually, I develop a sense of melancholy as our airplane lifts off, but not this time. We're returning in March to find a house, and March is just around the corner.

Cheez-Its

William is all about discovery these days.

He's curious about just about everything. And if someone else has it, he's definitely interested in it, particularly if it resembles high tech electronic gadgetry or food that he's never tried yet. It all goes in his mouth anyway. That, or he beats on it with his fist, then tries to put it in his mouth.

Here he is, playing with Mommy's box of Cheez-Its. Note: he did NOT get to eat any of the Cheez-Its themselves. He just got to enthusiastically gum the box.
















He has a pretty good time, exploring, though.



















Fun fact about the photos posted above: you will notice that William is only wearing one sock--his left sock. No, he doesn't have a weird form of Michael Jackson Thriller syndrome. He just loves to pull on his right sock. If he's wearing a footed sleeper, he tugs at the foot of the sleeper. But when he's wearing socks, it's only a matter of time before he gets at least the right one off. And puts it in his mouth, natch.

Polar Bear William

Here's William in yet another Christmas outfit! This is his polar bear outfit, a gift from his Mama Dee. It has a hat to match, and I'll see if I can get a good picture of him wearing it...

A piggy bank for William

It's not even Christmas yet, and already William is getting presents!

My friend and former colleague Chris Mahr gave this fun little piggy bank toy to William. He doesn't quite understand yet that you're supposed to put the plastic coins into the piggy bank, not eat them. But give him time...

On the mend

The little prince seems to be doing better today. He hasn't thrown up since the early hours of the morning, when it was still dark. But he's been tired and snuggly, so we've had lots of cuddle time and lots of napping today. Also, I've been trying to coax him to nurse and drink some Pedialyte.

He even played with some of his toys in his crib this afternoon after waking up from an extended nap. Thankfully, he seems to be on the mend. He doesn't look that sick, does he?

The good, the bad, and the yucky

The good news: In the past couple of days, we think William has learned to wave. I swear that he waved at me last evening when David brought him into the kitchen. Of course, it may just be that he has learned how to make the motion, and he is not really waving at me, per se, but just waving in general. Still, it's pretty cute.

The not-so-good news: William got sick today. I was driving to the base to take him to his playgroup's Christmas party, and I heard this horrible gurgling, choking noise from the backseat. It turned out to be poor little William, projectile vomiting his lunch all over everything. I screeched to a halt, spraying dust everywhere, and bolted out of the car to get to him. He was just covered in vomit (needless to say, that's the yucky part alluded to in the title), and so was everything in his car seat with him. I called David and rambled some hysterical message about William, then frantically drove home. I extricated the little guy from his gunk-coated seat, plunked him into the bathtub, and began the long process of trying to coax him to take more fluids.

Weirdly, William was actually in a pretty good mood. He got upset the times that he actually vomited, but then he'd be okay. He wasn't overly exuberant, but he was smiling and cooing some. He sat on a blanket on my bed and played with his shape-sorter blocks, just as content as he could be. He took his usual dinnertime nap, but unfortunately woke himself up by throwing up. David came home from work and convinced him to take some Pedialyte from a sippy cup. As David said, you could tell he didn't feel well because he just didn't seem to have that sparkle in his eyes. My poor baby. He did just fine in the tub (again), but when I nursed him before bed, it all came back up. He's in his crib now. I hope he gets some sleep. David warned me to expect a lot of wakeups tonight, and I'm dreading that.

David said that William will be just fine, that it's just a bug that's going around. We think William may have contracted it from one of the kids in his YMCA class, or maybe from the childcare center. Or both. I guess it's also just inevitable that babies (and children) get sick from time to time. I just hope that William starts to feel better soon!

Meow

William has discovered...the cats.

Much to their chagrin, that is. As far as they're concerned, the Golden Age of William is drawing to a close.

William now tracks their movements when they walk across his line of sight. If he's lying on the bed, getting dressed, and Corky jumps up on the bed, he arches his back to watch her. Or if Smokey walks across the sofa when William and I are sitting up there, he wiggles around to try to reach out and grab a tail or an ear.

Not only has he discovered the cats, he loooooves the cats. He reaches out with a slobbery palm to "pet" the kitty, and his whole face lights up. He laughs out loud and "talks" to the kitty. He lunged off my lap to grab a fistful of Smokey's fur this evening when we were all hanging out on the sofa in the living room. Smokey, who was previously curled up on David's lap, decided that hey, maybe the floor was a better place to hang out after all.

Then, Corky got her turn. When David was reading "Good Night Moon" to William, Corky thought it would be nice to snuggle up next to them. William had been reaching out to grab the pages of his book, but then he spotted the ball of black fur. He immediately ignored the book and reached out for Corky. He giggled and giggled and even began his little side-to-side dance that he does when he's really happy.

Just wait, I told the cats. In a matter of weeks, William is going to be mobile. Then you're really going to find out what it's like to have a baby in the house!

Sign language

Ever since I learned about baby sign language a few years ago, I was eager to teach my own child some basic signs. Supposedly it helps babies communicate before they're able to talk and resolves some of that frustration that arises because of the communication gap. I also read that some studies propose that babies who learn signs actually talk earlier than their non-signing peers, although I don't know if that will be the case with William or not.

At any rate, I wanted to give it a try. I bought a box of sign language cards at a bookstore in Natchez this summer, and I pulled them out when William turned seven months old right before Thanksgiving.

So far, I've only been using a small handful of signs with him--and all of them are related to eating and drinking. We do "milk," "more," "food," and "all done." I started "water" and "thirsty" today, and I'll probably start using the sign for "sleep" soon, too. (Although we really don't need the "sleep" sign; when William rubs his eyes, that's his sign for "I'm tired. The clock is now ticking, and you only have a finite amount of time in which to get me into my crib.")

William always smiles when I sign for him. I say "milk" when I hand him his sippy cup. He smiles. I ask him, "More?" when I'm feeding him his baby food, and he grins. I think he just likes it when I talk to him, but if he's not crying when I make the sign, I take it as a "yes." But actually, he has his own sign language for "more." He sticks both arms straight out to the side and waves his fingers. If he's doing that, he's still hungry. Another way to tell if he wants more food is to hold the spoonful of food about six inches away from his mouth. If he wants it, he grabs my hand and pushes it (with the spoon) toward his open mouth. Or he leans as far forward as he possibly can and gulps at the spoon. He likes to go "mmm, mmmm, mmm" while he eats, which is also hilarious. If I slow down too much, though, he gets indignant and cries out and waves his little pudgy hands even more. I take that as his preverbal communication sign for "Speed it up, Mom! I'm starving to death here!"

And when the jars of chicken/turkey/green beans/squash/whatever are empty, I tell him "all done" and make the sign. He'll smile, but I think he usually doesn't realize, "Oh, there's really not any more food" until I stand up and clear away the jars and spoons. That doesn't always go over so well, even if he really isn't hungry anymore. ("What? No more food? That can't be right. I was just hoovering down my squash and turkey. Are you sure there's not any more? Why don't you check again? OH, and be quick about it!") That's why I save "milk" until after the food's gone.

From what I've read, he's still too young to make any signs back to me. But the books say to keep it up, that eventually he'll catch on. So we'll keep it up. The way I see it is: it can't hurt. It's kind of fun, too. It gives us another way to interact.

Another way for William to communicate: via remote control...
















Here he is with his daddy, and both of their remote controls (and one of the kitties), watching Sunday afternoon football:

Christmas lights

Since we'll be spending Christmas in Nashville with the Wyckoffs, I decided not to do the full-metal Christmas at home this year. No tree, no decorations, etc.

Except that I have this sweet little guy, and I started to feel sorta guilty about not having a tree with pretty shiny lights on it. So I bought a little tiny tree at Target, the kind that's "prelit" so I wouldn't have to wrestle a string of lights onto it. It's not much, but at least it's something. A very little something.















I also gamely attempted to string some lights on the house today. Same reason: the guilt factor. We live on a street where nearly every house puts up lights every year, and we've never participated. This year, I realized that I no longer any excuse: I'm not working, and I have a receptive audience in-house.

How come no one told me that it's much harder--and requires more equipment--to hang Christmas lights than I thought? I mean, am I really going to have to get out the ladder and hammer some nails into the eaves of the roof to hang lights? William sat in his Bumbo seat by the front door and stared at me as I dropped little hooks and broke bulbs and wondered out loud how the heck I was going to do this. So far, all we have up is one red/green/white string around the door, but it's a start! To make it up to William for having parents who are non-crafty, non-decorative, non-Martha Stewart types, we piled him into his stroller and rolled him up and down our street tonight so he could look at all the pretty lights.

******

Random William anecdote:

William loves to "kiss" us. It is the funniest thing. I guess he's used to us kissing his little cheeks, so now he leans into us and "kisses" us on our cheeks. Only he hasn't really gotten the kissing motion down yet. He tends to open his mouth wide and frantically gum your cheek, leaving a big old slobbery circle on your face. But oh my, I have to say, it is the sweetest, funniest thing ever. I always squeal and laugh when he "kisses" me, which he loves, and it just makes me so, so happy.

That sounds so lame when I try to write it out, but it's one of those things that makes me think, "This. This is why I am glad I'm a parent. This is one of the greatest moments of my life. This, right now." Last night, David and I were listening to the new Sarah MacLachlan Christmas CD, and William was sitting in my lap. After he finished nursing, he leaned backwards to giggle at his daddy. Then he gave us both some of his famous "kisses." I said to David, "This is one of the best times ever." And it was.

I left my hat in San Francisco

William really is becoming quite the seasoned traveler. He and I tagged along with David last week when he went to San Francisco for a medical conference. And while William is becoming a veteran road (and air) warrior, David and I are becoming experts on Packing With Baby (PWB). We stuffed the Accord to the very brim with toys, baby food, the Bumbo seat, a stroller, clothes, extra clothes, more extra clothes, and so forth, and we set out for a long (very long, but that's a story for another, much more boring day) drive upstate to the Bay Area.

While David studied sports medicine in a big hotel in Japantown, William and I went sightseeing. We shopped in Union Square, ate lunch at a sidewalk cafe, tromped up and down the hills of Chinatown, narrowly avoided being hit by a cable car, rode the bus, and gawked at the massive Christmas tree in the middle of Union Square. I also rescued William's shoes about a hundred times, since he seemed to be determined to leave a souvenir somewhere around the city.

Here is William, kicking up his heels (and going for those shoes) in Chinatown:




















I also got really ambitious and took the BART to Berkeley one day. BART is the Bay Area's version of the Metro or subway. It's actually much easier to navigate than the bus system, plus you don't have to fold up the stroller. Of course, it's also indirectly responsible for William's first exposure to drugs. We exited the train at the downtown Berkeley station and searched for the elevator to take us to the street. When the doors slid open, we both got a faceful of marijuana-scented air. Nice. Breathe in, kiddo. This is what the counterculture smells like! Is that the Grateful Dead I hear?

By the way, I plan to put this on my Parent of the Year application. Took child to Berkeley, check. Exposed child to marijuana at very young age, check. Took child to wineries the very next day, check.

We also lost one of my favorite hats at the University of California. When we got off the train, William was wearing his navy blue hat with the frog on it. By the time I huffed and puffed my way through the main part of the campus (from walking uphill, thanks!), he had managed to take it off and fling it somewhere. To paraphrase the old song, William left his hat in San Francisco. (Har. Thank you. Thank you. I'll be here all week.) No way was this out-of-shape body going to retrace my steps, so we detoured into the Cal bookstore to buy a hat. So now my child has a Berkeley hat. I think it made up for the fact that I was wearing a bright red--Stanford red--sweater on campus on the day of the huge Cal-Stanford game. Maybe. Maybe William's new hat cancelled out my rather poor (given the circumstances) fashion choice.

The funny thing is, it was the one day that I didn't pull the Mom Executive Fashion Privilege and subject him to wearing something that would surely make people go "awwww." All the other days, he wore his Santa Claus hat. It generated lots of comments from people. The good people, that is. I have little respect for people who are so tragically hip and wear ironic clothes in a painfully earnest way that they don't have time to smile at a baby in a Santa hat who's directing a gummy smile up at them. I mean, sure, I'm biased and I think William is practically edible. But really. Can you really resist this face?

















It was a good trip. But oh, we were tired when we got home on Monday night. William is much more fun these days, certainly, but he also doesn't sleep very well at night away from home. We were up and down several times at night with him, and when added to all the walking we did, we managed to wear ourselves out. And the drive home through the Central Valley and the LA area was loooong. Long and boring. But at least we didn't have to deal with the airport. Thank God for small favors.

The Picasso of Star Dune Avenue

I can't believe I didn't think about posting this last week. Man, I'm such a slacker. Here you go!




















This is William's very first piece of artwork. It's not hanging on my refrigerator yet, but don't worry, it will be.

William made this (with my help) during our playgroup's Thanksgiving week meeting. The idea was for the parents to either trace their kids' hands or feet on the pieces of paper and then have the kids decorate them, or the parents could paint their kid's feet and stamp them on the paper. Katie, the playgroup organizer, furnished sheets of contact paper so that everyone could laminate the finished products and make coasters out of them.

Most of the kids ended up just painting on the sheets of paper. At first, I thought about trying to hold William's hand still and trace it on the paper, but I quickly realized that was probably futile. So I did something even sillier: I gave my seven month old child a little sponge paintbrush with paint on it and let him dab it on a sheet of paper.

Let me repeat that. I gave my seven month old child a paintbrush with paint on it. On purpose.

Needless to say, I held his hand very, very tightly in my own hand while he was doing this.

The result, you see before you. Doesn't he have a nice command of color and a good sense of placement on the page? Should this be considered his yellow period, or maybe, given the choice of paper color, his blue period? Heh. Anyway. He had fun. He didn't get too much paint on him. I got a piece of artwork to save for the baby book. Everybody won.

By the way, grandmas, you'll certainly get your fair share of refrigerator artwork in the years to come. I hope you don't mind if I save this first one for myself.

*****

Gratuitous photo alert! Here's the little prince in one of his other Christmas outfits.

PT for me

Today was Career Day for William. He got to tour the local physical therapy office here in Twentynine Palms today, while I had my first physical therapy session for my Bell's Palsy. I guess I should say that today was another Career Day for William. He's already gotten a taste of the medical world, plus he's visited my old office at the newspaper.

The physical therapy session was really interesting. The therapist asked me a raft of questions about the Bell's Palsy---how it first developed, how it progressed, and how I've been regaining function, whether I've had any pain and where, about my past medical history, and so on. And she asked me a lot about my ears and the area around my left ear (my affected ear). She asked me if I'd ever had shingles or chicken pox. I had a monster case of chicken pox in 1979, which I told her about, and she asked if I'd had any pox in my ears. I didn't know, and when I called Mom, she didn't remember. Because there is supposedly a link between a herpes virus and the palsy, the therapist mused that it's possible there could have been a connection between the long dormant virus in my system and the palsy. She detected some inflammation in and around my left ear, and she talked a little about the possibility that I may still have some of the swelling putting pressure on the cranial nerve.

So she manipulated my head and neck to try to work the muscles and to see if she could determine more about the inflammation on my left side. Then I had some type of electric current therapy, where a technician directed a weak current through the muscle in my neck, sort of below my left ear. Then the therapist gave me some facial exercises to work on between sessions. I'm oversimplifying by summing up, of course, but she seemed very enthusiastic about being able to help me. I admit that I was relieved that the therapist called my case a "textbook case" and was optimistic about my regaining even more function. I had worried that she'd tell me that I'd likely never see any better movement in my face than what I have now. Obviously, I look much better than I did even a few months ago, but oh, it would be wonderful to regain even more movement and control.

William was good as gold during the whole session. He sat in his stroller and quietly played with his horse toy most of the visit, only occasionally serenading us with one of his little "songs." When the tech put the electrodes on my neck, however, William stopped playing and stared in fascination at the beeping machine. It sounded a little bit like those old electronic Battleship games to me, but I guess he'd never heard anything quite like it. The therapist laughed, too, when she glanced over at him while she was stretching my neck out because apparently he was gazing up at her with rapt attention, almost like he was memorizing her movements. Maybe! You never really know what goes on inside his little brain.

He was such a good baby today, especially considering that he hadn't had a nap all day, and my appointment was from 1 to 2 p.m. It was really gracious of the PT center and the therapist to let me bring him, too. Some places frown upon children, but not this place. They even told me that they could have an aide watch him if he was fussing while I still was undergoing treatment. For that, I really am grateful. I know that I can always put William in the CDC on base for a few hours, but it's nice to be able to save those occasions for other things.

Next PT is Wednesday afternoon.

On the first day of Christmas...

The Christmas season has begun. Actually, the retail industry decreed that it began back in August, but for most of us, it doesn't really begin until after Thanksgiving. Turkey Day is now behind us, so I can now officially recognize Christmas as looming on the horizon. In accordance with that, I've pulled out William's wardrobe of holiday outfits, which have been sitting in a drawer, waiting for the right time. William just asked me to take his picture in one of his new Christmas outfits, and of course, I was willing to oblige. This was taken just moments ago, while he was sitting on my lap, helping me surf the 'Net....





















Isn't it interesting, how I wouldn't dare be caught dead in a Christmas-themed sweater, but I have no problem dressing up my son (who has no choice in the matter) in all manner of crazy holiday costumes? My excuse is, well, he's cute. He'll be wearing jeans, T-shirts and sneakers all the time soon enough. Stay tuned, we'll be running through the Christmas wardrobe repertoire over the next five weeks or so--you know, to get as much wear out of the outfits as possible during the officially sanctioned Christmas period.

Turkey is just fine with William

We all know that David loves turkey. Turkey is crucial to David's enjoyment of Thanksgiving. So it was only appropriate that William receive his first taste of turkey on Thanksgiving Day.

Well, as it turns out, William is definitely his daddy's boy. Not that there was any doubt, mind you, but this would definitely clinch it. The boy loves--LOVES--turkey.

He took a long lovely nap on Thanksgiving afternoon while the adults were eating. But when he finally woke up, it was time for him to have his own little Thanksgiving feast. The menu: turkey, sweet potatoes and green beans.

I offered him his first bite of turkey (baby food turkey mixed with a little bit of formula, but still turkey), and he opened his little mouth warily to accept the food. But once he tasted it, his eyes widened a bit, and his mouth popped back open for more. He liked the turkey! He liked the gooey turkey mixture that even I was skeptical about. Here I was, all nervous because he's been anything from hostile to ambivalent about fruit, and then I sniffed the baby food turkey with some reservations but served it anyway. And apparently, turkey is A-OK with the little prince. Just like David, William loves his Thanksgiving turkey. He even scarfed up the leftovers on Friday evening, just like his daddy, who ate a big plate of leftover turkey, broccoli casserole, corn pudding, sweet potatoes and mashed potatoes.

Too bad that no commercial outfit makes baby pumpkin pie.

Twas the night before Thanksgiving

It's almost Thanksgiving time once again! I feel like all I've been doing the last few days is running back and forth to the grocery store, picking up items that I forgot to get on the last trip or to search for items that are hard-to-find "must haves." That is, they are "must haves" in David's universe. I'm not that picky about Thanksgiving dinner. Ask me about the year that my family ate lasagna for Thanksgiving. Also famous in Larson family lore is the hamloaf. It's a cousin to meatloaf. Or maybe more of the wacky uncle to meatloaf. But I digress.

And for the record, apricot JellO for the congealed salad that I won't eat is only available at the Stater Bros. grocery store. I know this because my parents braved about a half dozen grocery stores last year, only to forget which one actually sold the stuff. So this year, I trolled grocery stores until I found the silly stuff. Stater Bros. And no one seems to be selling David's favorite pie anymore, so I guess he'll have to settle for a Mrs. Smith's Homemade Pumpkin Pie this year, instead of the Mrs. Smith's Pumpkin Custard Pie. (Sorry, kid.)

Anyway, seeing as how it's Thanksgiving, I thought I'd just write down a few thoughts on what I'm thankful for this year. I'm always thankful for my family and friends, my health, the fact that I've been so lucky in life this far, and of course, I'm thankful for David. Last year, I remember being thankful that I was pregnant and that the morning sickness was starting to taper off a bit. This year, I'm so lucky to have a healthy, happy (most of the time) baby son who gets bigger and funnier every day. I look at William, and I really am thankful that he is here with me and David. Sure, there are times when I'm tired, or he's crying inconsolably, when I forget to be grateful. Usually those times come in the middle of the night, or when William is adamantly refusing to take a much-needed nap. But then there are times when he's bouncing in my lap, wobbling on his legs and "kissing" me all over my face and giggling, and well, it just doesn't get any better than that.

So, once again, I'm grateful for my family and friends, for David--and now also for William. I'm grateful that we'll be moving to Nashville next summer, and I'm grateful that I have a few minutes right now to write this all down, so that I don't forget.

I hope you all have a wonderful Thanksgiving. Don't forget to be thankful for the little things, not just the big things. The devil may be in the details, as the old cliche says, but God usually is, too. And check back here. I'll try to get some shots of William eating turkey tomorrow.

And just because it's a darling and hilarious photo, I'm going to post a picture of William and his friend Madison. A few of us got together this morning at Luckie Park. After a few strolls around the playground, the little ones got to take a few turns on the baby swings. Madison is officially a Big Girl--she can walk all by herself--so she helped William out by pushing his swing for him. Check out his expression. I promise that he really was having a good time!

A friend the same age as William

Here's a really cute picture of William with his friend Mason.
















Mason is six days older than William. I met his mom, Beth, a few months ago, and we realized that we had sons almost the exact same age. Mason's daddy is still in Iraq, so Beth is shouldering the duty of being two parents by herself right now. (I can't even imagine how she does it, but she does.) Since we both live off base, we decided to get together and hang out.

Beth and I are enjoying trading first-time-mom stories and comparing notes on baby products and other stuff. This stroller, that baby food, this toy, that outfit, and so on. How the boys reacted to eating certain solid foods, where to get the best baby outfits, what kind of car seat to buy next, etc. etc. So we get together and let the boys "play together" while we talk. Sure, Mason and William are really too young to "play together" right now, but we like to put them next to each other and let them check out the other baby.

On Thursday, we went over to their house for lunch and playtime. I put William down on a quilt on the floor. Mason's already crawling (!), and he crawled over and began touching William's head and face. Not to be outdone, William grabbed ahold of Mason's head and shoulders a couple of times. They seemed very curious about each other. William hasn't been around any other babies his exact age, so it's fun to watch his eyes widen as he takes it all in.

I've been telling William to take notes, too, since Mason's already got the crawling thing mastered and is closing in fast on standing. But Beth says that it's keeping her on her toes, trying to keep up with Mason, so maybe it's better if William stays put for a little while longer. It's nice to be able to put William on the floor with his blocks and not have to chase after him. Plus, we haven't even started babyproofing the house yet. I need to get moving on that, though, because William is already squirming around some, and I know these days are numbered.

A visit with an old pal

Remember when William was a little tiny guy, and Mr. Froggy was nearly as big as he was? Yeah, I barely remember it either. Mr. Froggy's mostly been hiding out in a remote corner of William's crib these long months, but William rediscovered him the other day when he was looking for something to play with. Tonight, he decided to revisit his old pal. Notice that he's also clutching a couple of other pacifiers at the same time. It's a veritable festival of binkies in William's crib!

Keep that fruit away from me

So it seems that I have a kid--perhaps the only kid--who doesn't like fruit.

For a week, William happily ate applesauce. He ate it plain, he ate it warm, he ate it cool, he ate it mixed with oatmeal. He liked it any which way; with apologies to Dr. Seuss, I think he probably would have liked that applesauce with a fox, he would have liked that applesauce in a box.

Then, on Sunday, William changed his mind. He's free to do that, of course, but man, that was weird. All of a sudden, he made this horrible moue. He gagged and stuck his tongue out, and if he could have grabbed his throat with both hands, he probably would have done so. Instead, it was a series of gagging, rolling his eyes back in his head, and drooling the applesauce back out of his mouth.

Okay, I thought. You're on strike against applesauce. Let's try bananas. So on Monday, we introduced bananas.

Bananas. Strike two.

More of the "yuck!" face. It didn't matter if I setved the bananas warm, cold, or mixed up in oatmeal. He was like, "None of this stuff for me, Mom. No, sir."

Sigh.

David said optimistically, "Maybe he'll like pears. Or peaches."

Yeah. I hope so. How on earth did we have a baby who will happily gobble down suspicious-smelling green beans and peas but draws the gustatorial line at sweet, harmless fruits? Who knows? I warned William that if he didn't develop a fondness for bananas, he'd miss out on one of the great childhood experiences: eating a banana like a monkey. He was not persuaded.

So I guess we'll try the pears or peaches in a couple of days. I plan to keep offering the bananas for a couple more days, in the silly hope that William will change his mind. But David said that we probably could just put the bananas away and offer them again in a few more weeks. Or we could mush up some real bananas and see if William prefers their taste and texture to the admittedly rather viscous mixture that comes out of a baby food jar. I might try that, too.

But isn't this weird? Who choose green peas over applesauce? Squash over bananas? My son, that's who.

So on to the next fruit. Let's hope the little prince finds one that he'll deem worthy of his time.

Floor time

Another day, another discovery. William is sitting up on his own these days. Actually he's been doing it for quite awhile. But we discovered a little trick this week that allows him to sit upright on the floor and play with his toys without requiring us to sit right next to him in case he tips over.
















We just put the Boppy nursing pillow behind him, sort of a just-in-case method of support. If he leans backward or too far to one side, the pillow is there to catch him. This helps him avoid the traumatic head-bonking that has brought other play sessions to an early finish. But he can still lean forward and sideways to reach his toys. This makes him Very Happy. This also makes Mommy and Daddy happy because we can put him down on the floor, and we don't have to sit right next to him with one vigilant hand ready to catch him--or at least break his fall.

Since he's just about to outgrow the bouncy chair (sniff, sniff) and the swing, this is a real godsend. We used to put him in the bouncy chair or swing when we needed to put him down for a little while. Well, he's growing like a weed, and we still need to be able to put him down for short periods of time while we fix or eat dinner, answer the phone, etc. etc. Now we can. With the added bonus of the fact that William really loves to be able to hang out with all his toys. Way more fun than just reclining in the bouncy seat. I'm getting a little nostalgic about the phasing-out of the bouncy seat, but the reality is we've been using it less and less over the last couple of months. His feet hang over the end of it, and he almost never drifts off to sleep in it anymore. I guess that we'll have to put it away soon.



















I do have to admit, William is so much more fun now than he was when he was really little. He's so interactive. We've started playing peekaboo with him, and he loves that. And he laughs so much now, too. One of my new favorite things to do is to hold him up in front of me when he finishes nursing and allow him to "stand" in my lap. Usually, since he's just nursed, he's in a pretty good mood. He then locks his legs and stands on my lap, with my assistance, and just laughs and laughs. Then he sort of buckles forward and hugs me. It's really pretty wonderful.

Vote early and often

William got his first civics lesson yesterday. I took him with me to vote in the midterm election.

I voted in the primary back in June, but Mom was here, and she stayed with the baby while I dashed up the street to cast my ballot. This time, William accompanied me into the voting stall. I remember going with my own mother to vote, back when we were living in Hoover when I was a child. She always voted at our church, and I remember how she stood in line to have her name checked off on the list of voters. I remember being a little envious of the little oval white "I voted" sticker that she would receive, since that was the era in which I was so nuts about stickers that I had about three different jam-packed sticker books. But the message definitely came through: vote, and vote every time that you have the opportunity to do so. I plan to make sure that William learns the same lesson.

So William went to the seventh-day adventist church that is home to my polling station. For his patriotism yesterday, he got a "I voted electronically" sticker, which I promptly affixed to his overalls. He wore it proudly...until he tried to eat it and I had to take it away from him. Ah well. Still. I hope it's just the beginning of William's future as an American citizen taking an active role in shaping the future of his country.

Now, if we can just get him to learn the lesson that it's a good thing to sleep all night long, we'll be doing great. He was sleeping so well, usually going from around 8:30 or 9 until around 6 to...well, I can't even keep track of all the nighttime wakeups that he's had the last few nights. He settles down if he sees you standing over the crib, but then he wails when you walk away. Sometimes he is crying because he has spit out his binky, and then other times, he wails with the binky still in his mouth. I'm not sure what to do.

Last night, after we split about six different trips into the baby's room, David speculated that William's beginning to start teething. So I gave William a dose of grape-flavored Tylenol. He quieted down for maybe 45 minutes. That's it. Nothing seems to be working to convince William that a good night's sleep is good for everyone, himself included. We're discussing sleep-training, but we're wondering if we should give him another night or two to work things out, since we have been out of town so much lately---and that does tend to wreak havoc on his sleeping. All I know is that I really, really want a full night's sleep again, and much as I love my son, I really don't want to see--or hear!--this much of him at night.

Who knows. Maybe last night, he was keyed up about his first voting experience. But hopefully, we'll find a solution to this little problem. As everyone knows, I dont' function very well without enough sleep. It's not pretty.

Rhodes Scholar

I promised to write about my recent trip to Memphis, and here I am, following up on my promise.

My college class held its tenth reunion in late October. It's hard to believe that I've been a Rhodes grad for ten years (and counting) now, but there you go. Since moving to California, I've only made it back to Memphis a couple of times, and I had only barely seen the campus in the last few years. So for months, I looked forward to seeing all my old friends, seeing the campus again, and introducing William to both my friends and my college. He also got to meet his great-grandfather, Grandaddy Dudley, since we stayed at Grandaddy Dudley's house for the long weekend.

Even though David couldn't go with us, I'm so glad that William and I went. William, Mom and I toured the campus on that Friday afternoon. As alumnae, Mom and I both got official Rhodes Homecoming buttons, and they even humored me and gave me one for William. So all weekend, he wore a button that said "William Wyckoff, Class of '28".

But the best part was seeing everyone. Other than Nancy, I hadn't seen any of my friends since becoming pregnant or having William. It felt so good to see everyone again. Of course, William had to meet his auntie Loretta, since she is going to be the bad influence on him as he grows up, heh heh.















And he got to meet so many of my other friends, too...

































And he definitely had to spend some quality time with Phuong, without whom I might not have survived parenthood. If I can one day help a new mom friend even half as much as she has helped me, well, I'll be doing pretty good. Here's a photo of Phuong and William in the traditional Rhodes College Homecoming Beer Garden. Don't worry, William consumed no beer (that I know of).


















So now William has gotten a small taste of what it's like to be a Rhodes Scholar. (Yes, of course, you knew that joke was coming. I guess you can never beat that dead horse too much.) Two college visits in one month. Not bad for a six-month old. I'll give him some more time to decide which one he wants to attend. No rush. He doesn't actually have to submit his application for another, oh, seventeen years. He will have to go back for a future visit, of course. He didn't get a chance to ride the Lynx or eat in the Rat. We did wander through the Rat, but given that we're still introducing basic foods to him, I didn't think it would be kind to subject my young son to Wild Italian Skillet so soon.

I have a bunch of other photos, too, and I'll try to post some of them later. Also, friends, if you have some good ones, send them my way and I'll post them. I have a series of photos of a bunch of the Bellingrath Babes, and in every single of them, someone has her eyes closed (Jessica, Emoke, I'm looking at you!).

By the way, William loved his Great-Grandaddy Dudley. Grandaddy had lots of toys to play with, including a small wooden train engine, that kept William very happy while he was sitting in his high chair, waiting for someone to feed him already.