The last swimming lesson

William officially finished his first set of swimming lessons today and received a certificate, noting the accomplishments of "SuperWilliam" in the pool.




















I hate that the classes are over because he was finally getting to the point where he was really, really enjoying himself. He was grinning and giggling and laughing today, and for the first time, he didn't even cry when he was getting into the pool. And he was also leaning forward so I could tow him into the pool for "pull-ins", which he loves to do now.

Here's William with his fellow Water Baby graduates:
















And here he is with his buddy Jadyn, the budding Olympic swimmer (they're testing out the baby pool after two solid weeks of the big pool):
















And here I am with William, relaxing in the baby pool. We spent the first half of class doing our usual routines in the big pool--Ring Around the Rosy, pull-ins, passing back and forth to one of the instructors--then got to splash around in the little pool at the end of class. Usually there's a day camp group that takes over the baby pool but not today.















We had a really good time during the entire session of Water Babies. It wasn't a big class, so it never felt too chaotic. And we already knew all the other moms and babies, so it was like a big reunion from the Y and the breastfeeding group at the hospital. I hope we can get in for some swimming lessons at the Y in Nashville once we move back. Now that William is comfortable in the pool with me, I want to try to keep it up. Plus, his daddy hasn't gotten a chance to take a spin around the pool with him yet, so I want to see if we can work that out, too.

Just growing

Watching William continue to grow up constantly amazes me. He literally changes every day, and it's just incredible. Sometimes I just sit there and watch him, as he cruises around and think, "How is it even possible that this is the same person who was a little baby just a year ago?" I mean, you can look at his pictures and tell that it's him, but he's just such a person now. He understands so much of what we say to him. It constantly amazes me that he will tool off to get his sippy cup of milk if I ask him where his milk went. Or get this! Now he's turning books and flash cards around if they're upside down so that he can look at them the right way. I love it when he does that.

We took him in to see his pediatrician a couple days ago for an early 15 month appointment. He weighed over 25 pounds and was over 31 inches tall. William's just about at the 75th percentile for height and weight now. Big kid! Needless to say, he's far outmeasuring his father at the same period in his life. We looked up David's stats, and David didn't hit 24 pounds until he was two years old! So David's hoping that William will at least outgrow him. I'm pretty sure it's looking good for that.

There was something else David wanted me to report on...Oh yes. You know how we always read "Goodnight Moon" to William every night before bed? Well, every time that David gets to the part about "the old lady whispering hush," William gives a soft shriek. We were a bit mystified at first, but then David figured it out. Every time we're in a restaurant and William starts to get bored, he begins to call and shriek in a progressively louder voice (See: Reasons we probably shouldn't take William out to eat for awhile). We always say things like "Hush," and "Sssh," and "Use your inside voice, William" (not that I think a 14 month old really has good grasp on the concept of an inside voice yet, but oh well). And William delights in shrieking louder, usually with a huge smile on his face because he knows that he's doing the exact opposite of what we want him to do. So when he hears "hush," he wants to make noise. That's my boy.

Well, we're off to our very last swimming lesson. Today, we get to swim in the baby pool, so we're all excited about that.

William's First Big Boy Haircut

We marked yet another rite of passage today. William got his very first Official Haircut. A Big Boy Haircut, in fact. I've been snipping off stray pieces of hair, here and there, with my nail scissors since last fall, but it was time for a real haircut. So I took him to the beauty parlor on base for the big event.

And how silly is this? As I was driving to the salon, I started to get nervous! I mean, William really doesn't have that much hair. There was really only so much that anyone could really do to it. So why was I feeling all jittery? I don't get nervous before his doctor's appointments anymore. And I've even become somewhat fatalistic about my own hair appointments (after weathering a few disasters, including one chronicled here last July). So there I was, clenching the steering wheel and shaking my head over the butterflies fluttering around in my stomach.

And of course, I was all prepared to put up my dukes in defending the "no high-and-tight under any circumstances" line, too.

No need to worry, it turned out. Miss Nancy was all ready for him. No one else was even in the salon, so it was nice and quiet and non-chaotic. The perfect environment for a young man about to experience his first haircut (and his anxious mother). And Nancy was the perfect person to cut a young child's hair for the first time. She sat William on this neat wooden horse thing so he'd be positioned correctly. Then she showed him the cape and pointed out all the animals printed on it: the monkeys, the elephants, etc. And then she got to work.

































He looks a little solemn here, doesn't he?




















But there were no tears, no crying, no shrieking. And William was really good, too. (Heh.)

In fact, the whole thing only took about ten minutes. Nancy sprayed his hair occasionally with a spray bottle with a polar bear on top, and William liked that a lot.















She talked to him, told him how he was going to look like such a big handsome boy when she was finished. (But of course, right?)



















Meanwhile, I was clicking madly away, taking picture after picture. During my career as a journalist, I learned from both professional photographers and personal experience that the best way to get a good photograph is to take a bunch. If you take 20 photos, you might get one or two really good ones. But if you only take one, well, you're gambling. Digital cameras are a godsend. Especially when you're trying to capture the elusive and ever-changing expressions on your child's face.

The shutterbugging also had the effect of dampening my nervousness. I was too busy to worry about the scissors.















Nancy moved quickly and gently, and before either of us knew it, it was done!



















While I oohed and aahed over this little boy who suddenly looked so grown up, Nancy gathered all the little wispy blonde locks and put them in an envelope for me to take home. Unfortunately she was out of certificates for boys, but she gave one of the girl's certificates, just in case.

Doesn't he look good? I think William looks a lot more like David, now that he's got a big boy haircut.




















The best after-photo:



















So whew! We got through that, and it was just fine. So many things seem to turn out Just Fine, no matter how much energy I expend worrying about them in advance. There's a lesson to be learned in that. Mothers-to-be who are reading this, you might want to remember that, too. (You know, along with the other important lessons, which are Learn to Love the Bouncy Seat and Always Pack Stuff In Case You Get Stranded in Dallas. And wear sunscreen. Okay, that's not really a lesson. But it's still good advice.)

Goodbye, Chris

William and I had one last lunch with my friend Chris Mahr yesterday.



















For old times' sake, we ate at China Wok in Palm Desert. Back in the olden days (i.e. when we were both still working for The Desert Sun), Chris and I ordered takeout from there at least once a week. We didn't have to look at the menus yesterday; we just ordered our usual. Thank goodness they still serve those! I would have been pretty devastated if I couldn't have chicken with mushrooms one last time.

This time, I had to share my chicken and mushrooms. William was perfectly happy with his banana, veggies and cheese...until the waitress deposited my plate of fragrant food on the table in front of him. If you don't want William to have any of your food, you pretty much have to keep it out of his sight. And sometimes that doesn't even work. You have to be pretty furtive about if if you're eating something that you don't want to share or, for food allergy reasons, can't share. It's no use trying to tell this hungry one-year-old that he can't have any of that delicious-smelling food that you're inhaling. "Sorry, honey, but you can't have any of my lobster burrito because it's not a good idea to introduce a child your age to shellfish. Maybe when you're three." Sure. Good luck with that. Actually, we've done just that. You just have to be firm. And not mind feeling a bit like a heel. :)

Anyway, it was great to see Chris again before we move. She's been a terrific friend to me, and I'll miss her a lot.

* * * * *

David wants me to report that William sounds like the Hamburglar. Remember the Hamburgler? I'd forgotten about him, myself, until we stopped for dinner at Mickey D's in Temecula a couple weeks ago. That's the night that William had his very first Happy Meal. Anyway, the walls had pictures of the Hamburgler, Mayor McCheese, Grimace, and the Fry Guys. Ah, memories from the past! Well, William started babbling some new words (I guess you could call them words) last week, and David swears it sounds like the Hamburgler. William actually says something that sounds like "gogglegogglegoggle," while the Hamburglar used to say "Rubblerubblerubble." But it's the same sort of pattern of sounds. You'd swear, too, that William really believe he's saying something important. And heck, maybe he is. It's not his fault that we just don't speak that language.

(Is that really how to spell Hamburglar? It just looks weird to me.)

William is also standing on his own for much longer periods of time. People keep asking me if he's walking yet, and I have to say that he can, but he only will do it if he's holding my hands or pushing something like a push toy or his stroller. But he seems to be working on his confidence level: he will actually walk when he's only holding onto one hand now. So I think that, for William, this standing and walking thing is mostly about just developing the confidence to just do it.

Also, he knows that he can get places much faster if he just drops to the floor and crawls because he's the World's Fastest Crawler. But I think he's coming around. He stood up and drank out of his sippy cup while helping his daddy unload the dishwasher this morning. I think it's only a matter of time. So he's a late walker. Big deal. He's got the fine motor and social skills down pat. And as I always say, I learned how to read two years before I learned how to tie my shoes. (Er, but I still tie them in the bunny-ears style. Oh well.)

More of the Water Baby

And we have a few action shots of swimming class today.

William prepares to "jump" into the pool:
















William swims!















And here's a group shot of Jennifer and Jadyn and me and William. It's hard to get both kids to look at the camera, especially at the same time.















William was pretty tired by the end of class, when we took these pictures, so he wasn't as smiley as he could have been. Oh well.

Water Baby

We are now on Day Three of swim lessons at the local pool.

Ostensibly, the purpose of the class is to get babies and toddlers to not be afraid of the water. The secondary purpose is just to splash around and have fun. William's got the second part down, and he's working on the first part. It helps that there are only three other mommy-baby pairs in the class, so it's not too overwhelming--and he knows all of them.

Today's lesson didn't start out so great. William objected when I changed him out of his regular clothes and into his swim diaper and bathing suit.




















But he calmed down once he got all suited up (and slicked up with a double coating of sunscreen).



















This is my favorite picture from today. He looks like an imp. Well, after all, He IS an imp!




















I admit, I had figured that it would take William a couple days to get used to getting into the big pool. The water's cold when you first get in, and it can be a little scary to a little guy. He did great on the first day, but he was fussy yesterday. He didn't fuss the whole time, fortunately, but he did get upset a few times.

Today was better. William tensed up a bit when we lowered ourselves into the water, but he didn't cry. He even enjoyed it when one of the instructors and I passed him back and forth, and he grinned when we led the "train" of babies and mommies around our little shallow end of the pool. But there are certain ways that I hold him that he doesn't like very much, and he starts to get agitated. The problem is, I can't always figure out what those positions are, except that I know he doesn't like being on his back. Right now, his favorite thing is when I sit him on the side of the pool and ask him to "jump" into my arms. He doesn't really jump, of course, but he will lean foward and then I can pull him gently by the arms into the water. Then I push off backward and tow him with me, and he thinks that's Big Fun.

And, I have to brag here for a moment. The instructor suggested that we gently let them go underwater for an instant. William's little friend Jadyn is such a water bug that she's already doing that with much panache, but today she wasn't in class. So it was up to William to give it a try. I told him what we were going to do, and then gently sank down until his head went underwater. And then I immediately popped him back up, and everyone cheered and applauded. He blinked and stared as us from underneath the water streaming down his face and dripping from the brim of his hat. But he didn't cry! And he didn't get upset! I didn't do it again, though. Didn't want to push my luck.




















I don't have any in-the-water pictures yet because we have to stay with our babies when they're in the pool. I'll try to get someone to help us out tomorrow and shoot a few action shots. In the meantime, here's one last picture of William--after class, this time, with his wet hair as proof that he went underwater.

The Farewell Tour of San Diego

Well, en route to Nashville, we have concluded one crucial step of the preparations. We just wrapped our Farewell Tour to San Diego. We had the propaganda weather that we never had when we actually lived there, and it was just perfect for playing on the beach in the mornings. It was so clear that there was a really terrific view of the point (Point Loma) in one direction and the Hotel Del Coronado in the other.




























I never did put William in his bathing suit because, unlike all those brave (or deluded; take your pick) tourists who were also staying at the Navy Lodge on Coronado with us, I used to live there and I know all too well how chilly it can get on the beach. Also, the water is ice cold. I walked William down to the water and let him dip his tootsies in the surf, and that was about as much as either of us was willing to take of that.

So we played on the sand mostly.


















It was a little hard to say a final goodbye to San Diego. I mean, I won't miss the desert and 29 Palms, but San Diego is special. We lived there for two years and then visited for another four, so I feel like I really know the city. I'll miss eating lobster burritos at El Zarape, our favorite neighborhood hole-in-the-wall, and I'll miss gazing at the Pacific ocean from the car window or a seat in a cafe. We haven't lived there for awhile, so it's not like we're really leaving San Diego. But yet, we are. Who knows when we'll get back to visit again? It's not that we aren't dancing with joy at the prospect of moving to Nashville (because believe me, we are!). But we have a lot of good memories from San Diego. David asked me to marry him at sunset on a rocky bluff at Sunset Cliffs, and we've licked dripping ice cream cones countless times on the patio at the Hotel Del Coronado. We'll miss it. I told William that he may not remember the times we've taken him to San Diego, but I will. And I'll tell him about playing on the beach and visiting the zoo.

Speaking of the zoo...














I took William to the zoo on Wednesday morning, and all I can say is, what a difference a couple of months makes. He not only stayed awake the entire time we were there, but he was really engaged with watching the animals. He was fascinated by the polar bear that sat right by the glass, and he pointed excitedly and wiggled and strained in my arms when we walked around the giraffe yard. He seemed to recognize the monkeys from the monkeys in his books, and he stared at the panda in the tree for a long time, with wide eyes. In the picture above, he got up close and personal with a peacock. I'm not sure he understood what it was, but he sure did recognize the two ducks that kept parading by his high chair when it was lunchtime. I had a hard time getting him to eat his yogurt and mandarin oranges because he kept whipping his head around to find the ducks. "Du! Du!"

We had one last final meal with our friend Kristin, who we will dearly miss. And yes, I took William to eat at the Hotel Del Coronado, too. I'm glad that William and I tagged along with David while he did the transitional class for the Navy. It was a nice week. Well, except for the fact that William never went to sleep until we turned out all the lights; he just stood there in his Pack n Play and babbled in his happy little baby voice. But the lack of sleep did take its toll. By Friday night, William was standing there, weaving from side to side, with his eyelids at half mast, but he was determined to outlast us, by George. Finally I snapped off the lamp, and he hit the PnP mattress with a thunk a minute later. Poor little guy. He just didn't want to miss a second of his last trip to San Diego, I guess.

Isn't it funny, though, how we've yearned for so long to leave, and now that we're really leaving, we're realizing that we're going to miss some things about California?

Happy Father's Day, 2007 version

Happy Father's Day to all you dads out there, particularly my husband, my own daddy, my father in law, and my grandaddies.

William would also like to wish his own daddy a Happy Father's Day for the second time. (Wow, it's already their second Father's Day together!)















Thanks to David for being a great, enthusiastic, involved father to William. It's David who gives William a bath each night, then dresses him for bed and reads "Goodnight Moon." I think they both look forward to it. And boy, you should see William's face light up when David comes home from work every day. It's like Elvis has entered the building. I always hear about these fathers who are only minimally involved in their children's lives, and I am always incredibly grateful that I'm not married to a man like that! David changes messy diapers, pushes the stroller, sings night-night songs and plays with the toys.

Thanks to my father for raising me, putting up with me (see: teaching me to drive, surviving the year that I took trigonometry), putting me through school and teaching me how to do all sorts of things. For my toolbox. And for always being there for me now.

Thanks to Aaron for raising David and helping him become the person he is today. And thank you for always being so welcoming and loving to me. It really means a lot to me, and I just wanted you to know. (Also, go Braves!)

And thanks to Grandaddy Bill and Grandaddy Dudley for being such terrific grandfathers---and now great-grandfathers! I have so many terrific memories that involve both of you.

And now, to mark the occasion, I am fixing to make David one of his favorite meals: scrambled eggs and bacon. If William plays his cards right, he might score some, too. Hope you all are having a great Father's Day!

This one's for you, Dad

At long long last, we have found a food that William doesn't like.

Drum roll, please.














Lettuce.

Stranded in Dallas

Well, not taking a car seat with me on our flight came back to haunt me. Why, yes, I did get stranded overnight in Dallas on Friday with a one-year-old, how did you ever guess?

So Mom and Daddy drove William and me to Baton Rouge on Friday afternoon. Turns out, the incoming flight was delayed out of Dallas, so we were having to wait on that plane to arrive. But then, the airport inexplicably let another plane full of passengers depart to Dallas on a plane that arrived from Dallas before ours arrived, even though our flight should have bumped that second flight. Of course, I couldn't get a person on the phone to find out what I should do, and they only had one gate agent in BR working the desk. And of course, she was swarmed by other annoyed passengers, including one woman whom I barked at when she tried to get in line before me. I think she was sufficiently scared by the sight of a stressed-out mother because she was ingratiatingly nice to me the rest of the time. She was too old to be dressing like Paris Hilton anyway, if you ask me. But I still didn't manage to get ahold of the gate agent to ask what in the world I was going to do if we missed our connection. So I was starting to freak out a little. Okay, more than a little. What would we do if we missed our connection, I fretted.

Which, of course, we did. By the time we got to Dallas, it was about 40 minutes or so after our connecting flight departed to California. I was especially irritated to see that if they had let me and my fellow passengers depart when they let the second flight leave, we could have made our connection. Grr. The fact that William and I were both hungry because we hadn't eaten dinner yet, due to the delays, was not helping matters.

And because it was Dallas and I have bad luck in Dallas, I couldn't get a single person to help me. There I was, pushing the stroller from gate to gate, from info desk to info desk, just trying to find an actual human being who could freakin' tell me what to do to get on a plane to California. After about six tries, a lovely woman named Bernice finally took pity on me and helped. I was so tired and frustrated that I just couldn't believe we were going to be stranded. I started to cry. There I was, with tears rolling down my cheeks, because I just wanted to go home. But of course, the best she could do was book me on a flight the next morning. I looked at her in horror, then down at the (cranky) baby in his stroller. No way were we hunkering down in the airport all night.

So Bernice called hotels until she could find one that would provide a free shuttle service AND had a crib available, which you would think would be incredibly common in the greater Dallas area but apparently not. But of course, the airline wasn't willing to pay for my hotel. I did get a discount rate, what they term a "distress rate." Boy, is that an appropriate name or what! Of course, my suitcase with all our stuff was locked up and I'd have to do without it. Great. All I had with me was the diaper bag. Luckily, I at least had a clean T-shirt and a clean pair of underwear in there for me, and a clean outfit for William. But I had no toiletries at all. And no milk for William, either, although I did have a few jars of food.

Pushing William in front of me, I forlornly stumbled into the closest airline shop and bought a toothbrush and toothpaste for me and a navy T-shirt for William to sleep in. Then we went outside and waited for an hour for the hotel shuttle. We must have seen fifty other shuttles whiz by, stopping to see if we were their next customers, but ours was nowhere in sight. Finally I called the hotel and said, in very tight tones, "We were told that a shuttle would pick us up at Gate B7 twenty minutes from the time we called. That was an hour ago. When do you expect someone to be here because I have a small child and I need to get him fed and to bed."

The shuttle arrived a few minutes later. I was under the impression it would be an actual shuttle. But nope. It was a minivan. A minivan without any available car seat or booster seat. I buckled William directly into middle bench seat seatbelt and held my breath the entire ride; that's when I was cursing myself for not having a carseat. The one time I don't have one with me. God.

After we arrived at the hotel and checked in, I asked about getting some milk and food. The hotel seemingly only had two staff members: Iwa, the front desk guy, and Jose, who did everything else. Iwa got on his trusty little walky-talky and summoned Jose back again from the shuttle bus driver's seat and asked him to take us over to a 7-11 so I could buy some milk and some food (and deodorant) for me. By that time it was after 9 p.m. After I made a mad dash through the 7-11, Jose the Shuttle Driver dropped us off at the hotel again, and I took William upstairs. But...no crib. I fed him dinner and then called the front desk. Apparently, Jose was the only one who could fetch us the crib...and he was going back to the airport to retrieve more distressed travellers like us. Iwa, of course, couldn't leave the front desk. So we waited another hour for good ol' Jose to deliver the rather scary-looking, Romanian-orphanage-style crib with its iron bars and lumpy mattress.

I gave William a short bath and then dressed him in his new T-shirt. He was not amused by his new bed.















I finally brought him into bed with me, where we fell asleep together, nestled in the pillows, watching "SportsCenter." Then I transferred William into the crib, where he slept the rest of the night. Meanwhile, I tossed and turned in the bed, worrying about whether our suitcase would get permanently lost and if we would have trouble getting home the next day.

The upside of the whole experience was that at least we got breakfast in the hotel before leaving for the airport. William got his milk and Cheerios--and a banana. I had orange juice and Frosted Flakes, a childhood fave. And we didn't have any trouble with our flight on Saturday morning; we even sat next to a very nice grandmother who was happy to play with William and hold his flashcards for him. And our suitcase made it to Palm Springs, too. Also, and thank goodness for this, that should be our last time flying for awhile. Incidentally, the weather on Friday? Just fine. Leave it to me to get stranded in Dallas overnight when the forecast is warm and sunny and perfect.

But man. I hate DFW. It is the Black Hole, the Bermuda Triangle of Airports. I have never had a good experience there. My parents have gotten stranded there before, too, so I guess the DFW bad karma affects the whole Larson clan. I'm hoping it doesn't rub off on the Wyckoff side of my family.

So that's the whole sad tale. Aren't we pitiful?

Here is the moral of this sad tale. Actually two morals: 1) Be better prepared for the worst, because if you're going to be anywhere within 200 miles of Dallas, you can pretty much count on the worst; and 2) There are some things you just can't control. So, stick a toothbrush, deodorant and clean underpants in your carry-on bag, even if you think you don't have room for them. And find a way to be as Zen as possible if the worst does happen, which again, if you're near Dallas, it will. I think I can do the first part. The second one, I need to work on.

Natchez in Review

I think I can safely say that William loved visiting with his grandparents in Natchez. He got lots of attention, to put it mildly.

Here we are at church last Sunday.
































With Grandmama:
































Mom and Daddy really enjoyed his being around too. But Mom did ask me if Diane was exhausted after keeping William all day when we were looking for a house back in March. Hee hee. (For the record, Diane, would you like to weigh in?)

He splashed in the big bathtub...

















And of course, he loved all the food. Here's the photo of William eating grits for the first time. This picture is also important because it was taken at the Marketplace Cafe, my favorite place to eat in Natchez (we ate there at least five times when we were in town).



















He also practiced walking when we visited Mama Lou and Grandaddy Bill in Vicksburg...Mom has a picture of me at the same age in this very location.















I love this picture. It looks like he's just pushing his grandaddy forward...but also checking to make sure that all his fans are watching his every move.



















William, posing with his mama, grandmama and great-grandmama:

















Three generations of Williams, version two:
















He just looks all big and pink and happy, doesn't he? That's probably a good way to describe him most of the time, in fact. William is such a ham. Such a ham, in fact, that it's hard to capture the sheer hamminess on film sometimes. He just moves too fast! Mom and I were constantly trying to capture certain things with our cameras, like the vaunted "all done" and the way he waves to people. Thank goodness for digital cameras.

I'll post the, erm, interesting story of our return to the desert later, when I've sufficiently recovered from it.

"I'm a mommy"

Remember how much I agonized over not going back to work last summer? Remember how much I worried about what it would do to my career, to my identity, blah blah blah? How in the past, I've always said things like it's good for a mother to have a career because she's a good role model for her children, and how in the past, I used to say that I couldn't imagine staying at home with a child?

And lo and behold, I've stayed home with William for over a year now. I don't think he has a negative view of my career goals just yet, though, so I think we're good on that front for the time being. :)

But the other night, I attended Mom's book club meeting with her, and one of the women there asked me what I do. I appreciated the irony for a moment or two, and then laughed and said, "I'm a mommy." But y'all know me. Five seconds later, I couldn't help adding, "But I used to be a newspaper reporter."

The woman (a few years older than my mother, I think) said something to the effect of how being a mother is a very important job. Which it is, absolutely. And now that I think about it, it's kind of nice that someone did ask me what I did first, not assume that I didn't do anything (well, anything official that comes with a paycheck and a 401(k) eligibility). Of course, then the woman asked what my husband did, and I sighed and said, "He's a pediatrician." Because even though I made peace a long time ago that I would be a stay-at-home mom this year and be financially dependent on my husband, when you say it out loud, it does still sound a little bit strange. At least, it sounds strage, based on the Past Me.

And you know what? I still feel some of the conflict internally. Alethea and her friend Caroline and I recently had an email conversation about this whole topic. If you work full-time, you miss your child and wonder if having him or her in day care is the best situation and you can't do things together with your child like swim lessons or weekday playgroups. If you stay home, you worry about saving for your child's college and your own retirement and financially bolstering the family and providing insurance, should anything happen to your spouse. And that doesn't even get into things like personal goals and interests. So what's the best situation? What can you live with? What risks can you take or should you take? Gah. If you really stop to think about it all, it's crazy-making. And if for some reason, you're totally completely at peace with your situation, well, there's a whole raft of books out there on both sides of the fence that are guaranteed to induce some guilt in you even then! It's a case of "damned if you do, damned if you don't."

I guess that David and I will just have to make the decision that is best for our family. That's what we've done up 'til now, and so far, it's worked out pretty well. It's not always easy to know what the right decision is, so we're just trying to do the best that we can.

The News from Natchez

We've been having big adventures here in Natchez, William and I have. We hung out with my brother and grandparents last week when they were in town. We've eaten out a lot and taken walks around the neighborhood and down to the bluff overlooking the Mississippi. We've run him through all his tricks, showing him off, too; you know, "William, can you clap? Can you wave? Can you blow a kiss? All done? Are you all done, William?" William throws his hands up in the air, a la "touchdown" when he's "all done," and it never fails to elicit laughter from people. In fact, Mom and Daddy ask him to do it a lot because it always makes them giggle. William just looks so pleased with himself when he does it. Here, check it out for yourself:















And William attended his first political event last week: a campaign kick-off for a state senator who attends Daddy's church. The event was held at the local Marketplace Cafe, which is my favorite place to eat--you know, the beignet place--and they had a whole huge roasted pig! William was quite intrigued by that, since that's definitely not something you see every day. I let William taste a little bit of the barbecued pork, and he snarfed up most of my baked beans.

In fact, he's getting quite the intro to good Southern cookin' while he's here. We let him have some grits on Saturday morning, and he loved them. Heck, I don't even like grits, and I was born and raised in the South. I haven't given him any fried okra yet, but I guess that's only a matter of time.

We also had a minor scare here last night. Well, it didn't seem so minor to me at the time. William dove off the big bed in the guest room and thunked his head on the hardwood floor. Gah. That noise. I was crying as much as he was, maybe more. Luckily, he's fine. He had a light pink bump on his forehead for a few hours last evening, but it's gone now, and he's been as rambunctious as ever. But oh my God, I was upset.

So that's the News from Natchez for now. We're having a really good time, even though I'm being eaten alive by mosquitoes!

A wonderful idea

You know how I was all grateful last year that more and more places now offer family restrooms and nursing rooms? Well, add the children's play area to that list. After several long hours of wrangling a squirmy baby on an airplane yesterday, it was with much relief that I discovered the children's play area in Terminal B in the Dallas-Ft. Worth airport.

Let's give a big old woohoo to the concept of creating a space for kids to run around and blow off some steam. I'll even ramp up the volume and make that a WOOHOO because it was in an airport where I had a layover. William barely slept on the flight from Palm Springs to Dallas yesterday, and he was oh-so-wriggly when we finally deplaned. I glanced up and saw the play area sign, and it was like seeing a sign advertising the holy grail or free shoes.

We raced through the terminal to get there, knocking little old ladies and overloaded college students out of our way, in our zeal. Okay not really. But I did push the stroller really really fast, which is saying something when you're loaded down with an enormous backpack and purse the way I was. It was just a small area carved out of a waiting area, but it was perfect. Soft cushiony floor, several of those big molded plastic models to climb on, and some games on the short walls enclosing the space.

At first, William just sat there, uncertainly. "Go on, crawl!" I encouraged him. He looked up at me, and then looked out at the other two slightly older toddlers tearing around. Finally, he seemed to realize that, hey, he too could tear around! So he crawled around and pulled up on things and giggled and had a grand old time. We hung out for about 30 minutes, then grabbed some lunch. William then slept the entire time we spent on the second plane, even when we were sitting on the tarmac in a delay. No squirmy baby that time!

For future reference, Gate 13, Termimal B. If you have small kids, it's your friend.

About to leave town

I couldn't leave town without posting just a couple more pictures of William.

Here he is, drinking milk with his monkey:



















He's wearing the monkey that we bought for him on his birthday when we attended the Angels baseball game. When the team is losing, the Angels flash this movie of this crazy monkey jumping up and down on the Jumbotron. They dubbed him the Rally Monkey, and he led them to a World Series victory in 2002. So of course I had to get William his very own Rally Monkey, and here he is with it. He also will hug the monkey if you ask him to.

Back to his old tricks

Thank goodness. William is back to his old tricks once again!




















Here's how you know William is feeling better:

1. He begs for Big People food again. Yesterday, he wanted Mama's ice cream and Daddy's sausage pizza. He pulled himself up on our legs and smiled that winning smile, trying to persuade us to give him a bite or two. (And you get a big gold star if you guessed correctly that I gave him several bites of ice cream and that David refused to hand over the pizza.)

2. He sings and screeches loudly, only to sing and screech even louder when you try to shush him.

3. He happily crams an entire piece of cheese into his mouth and grins widely so that you can see that he managed to fit the entire piece of cheese into his mouth.

4. He dances. And dances. And dances some more.

5. He tries to bounce up and down on the bed when his daddy is trying to wrestle him into his pajamas.

Yes, by Saturday morning, William was really back to his old self (see above). I feel much better too. David kept saying, this is just a virus, but I think it's the prerogative of any mother to worry about her sick baby.

Tomorrow, we head to the Palm Springs airport bright and early to begin our big trip to Natchez. David's going to Nashville to close on our new house. So we're both frantically trying to pack today. I'm trying to figure out which toys and books to pack to entertain William during the course of a long day. I'm a little nervous about flying with him this time around because he's so much bigger and more active. No more long naps in his carseat or in my arms. I have a feeling that we're going to have a much more active experience this time around...

Fevers fevers fevers

Would it surprise anyone if I wrote that William's been sick again this week? Nah, I didn't think so. This time, he's had high fevers all week. It started on Tuesday, around mid-day. David had Dr. Perkins look in W's ears and do a throat culture that afternoon, and we started giving William regular doses of Tylenol and Motrin to keep the fevers down. We found out later that the strep test was negative, but his throat was red and had some white patches on it.

I was pretty surprised, however, that the fevers continued beyond 24 hours. Usually, when William gets a fever, it lasts a day, and that's about it. Poor little guy. This time, the fever would spike, I'd give him medicine, he'd cling to me and shiver in my arms for awhile, and then the medicine would kick in and he'd perk up. But it didn't stop after 24 hours. I've even had to give him Tylenol and comfort him in the middle of the night, and I never have to go into his room in the middle of the night.

In the wee hours of this morning, I was summoned by a pitiful cry--around 4:30. He was sitting with his back against the crib rails, holding Natty and sobbing. His fever was 101.2, which I took as a good sign because it's soared over 103 several times over the last few days. I coaxed some Tylenol into him and read Good Night Moon to him while I waited for the medicine to take effect. Luckily, his eyes were already shutting, so I was able to put him back down again.

I'm cautiously optimistic now, though. He didn't seem to have a fever when I woke him up for the day. And he ate breakfast without a protest, which was very reassuring (he didn't even want to eat his beloved cheese the last couple of days, so I knew he was not feeling well at all). And he gave me a bunch of hugs earlier...all together now....awwwww. He's napping now, but I'm taking him back to see Dr. Perkins at lunchtime, just to make sure nothing else is wrong. We're headed to Natchez on Monday, and I really hope he's back to his normal self by then.

I hate it when William's sick. He's just not himself. You can tell by the way his eyes look sunken in and the way that he will sometimes just sit on the floor and cry, rather than crawl off to find toys. And of course the lack of interest in food. William loves to eat, so when he pushes my hand with a spoonful of yogurt away, there's definitely something wrong with him. I bought him a big helium balloon at the grocery yesterday morning because it made his eyes light up when he saw it, and I was desperate to find something to cheer him up. I wrapped him in a blanket and held him to my chest yesterday afternoon and turned on the Braves game on TV. When David came home, he joked that I must enjoy it when William is sick because I actually get to snuggle with him. I do love the snuggling, but not if it's because William doesn't feel well.

Besides, I will take the hugs any day!

Flash cards for William

In the neverending quest to find stuff to entertain William, I picked up these really cool flashcards at Barnes & Noble on Saturday. Yeah, yeah, mock me if you want to for buying flash cards for my proto-toddler, but check this out:



















He so loves them. Watching William studying his cards this evening on the living room floor, David remarked, somewhate ruefully, "My Type A son. It's already started."



















Okay, they may be flash cards, but they are really cool flash cards. They're the kind of cards that have stuff you can rub or touch. You can rub the teddy bear's furry tummy or feel the texture of a sweater. The "jelly" card is the best because it has a little swatch that is tacky-feeling, just like something might feel after an encounter with a PB & J.

Don't worry. I won't get too much more Type A myself yet. I don't plan to start quizzing William on his multiplication tables anytime really soon. I figure, this will satisfy my Geeky Mom quotient for awhile. We can start on the periodic table next week.

BBS intensifies

Busy Baby Syndrome here has really intensified over the last few weeks. I didn't realize that William could get busier, but I clearly was wrong.

My son the musician, busy with the drum:
















I think that William is well on his way to...dare I say it...becoming a toddler. A toddler in attitude anyway, if not a toddler in actual toddling.

But he's even close to achieving that! He'll take a few steps if you hold his hands.



















At first, he'd only let you do this for a few seconds. But he's gradually developing more confidence, so you can actually help him walk in this manner across an entire room now. David calls it "wiki walky"-ing. You hold his hands, he takes a few rubbery-legged steps, and you say "wiki walky, wiki walky, wiki walky." Then when he decides he's had enough, you clap and say "Good job!" And he does, too. Clap, that is. He hasn't quite managed to spit out "good job" yet. :)

William has also discovered that he can motor across the length of the living room and kitchen with his walking toy, too.
















When he first realized that he could stand up and push the toy, he took these hilarious straight-legged steps. He's gradually getting more graceful. It's amazing how babies learn to do this!

And yes, he's wearing his jammies and a Spider-man backpack in those pictures. I picked out the backpack at Target, and he seems to enjoy wearing it. I love it because it makes him look like such a big boy. It also makes me laugh to see him gleefully padding around the room with his little backpack on. There's nothing in it. Maybe when he starts walking for real, I'll put some of his stuff in it for him when we go places. Important stuff, of course, like some of his books and a binky and maybe Natty.

Despite the fact that his main mode of transport is still crawling, William is into just about everything these days. I can't imagine that he could possibly get into more when he does start walking. Nothing is safe now!

The refrigerator is one of his favorites. If I open the fridge, I can't shut it because magically, there is a baby, pulling himself up on the shelves, grabbing gleefully at whatever he can reach.




















He knows there are CDs and remote controls inside the drawers of the coffee table, and he is determined to liberate them:



















Also, he wants to eat whatever food that David and I are eating. Last night, he had the same dinner that we did, and I made sure that he could see that. We all had chicken fingers and broccoli. And that made William very happy to see that he was eating the Big People Food. Otherwise, he points at my food, clearly demanding that I give him whatever I'm eating. Or he pulls up on my chair, smiles a big smile at me and casually reaches for my plate. It's like having a dog who begs for food. Except that William's persuasive techniques are second to none. He looks at me with this winning smile on his face, and I swear he bats his eyelashes at me, trying to wheedle some Big People Food out of me. Sadly, I'm a great target. He gets cinnamon bread and ice cream this way more often than I'd like to admit.

Bottom line, William is active with a capital A these days. But you know, even though it's sort of exhausting, trying to keep up with him, I have to admit that I'm enjoying it. Yes, part of me sometimes gets all nostalgic and says "oh, my little baby is becoming a big boy." But the reality is...those early baby days were hard, hard hard. I didn't get nearly enough sleep, and I was nursing all the time. Now, I do get a decent night's sleep most of the time, and my son thinks that goldfish crackers are one of the seven wonders of the world.

Honestly, it's really fun to watch William becoming more independent. It's exciting when I say something to him and realize that, hey, he actually understands what I'm saying some of the time. He'll wave if I ask him to wave, clap if I ask him to clap, and--this is the latest, courtesy of a song we sing at the Y--he'll wiggle his ears if I ask him to wiggle his ears. Well, he grabs both his ears, but he clearly understands that the ears are involved. (And I think it's funny every single time.) If I say, "William, where's your water?," he often crawls off to find his sippy cup. And when I put him in his car seat, he waves and says "bye bye" because he knows we are going somewhere. In fact, I told David that I may have to resort to that time-honored parent tactic of spelling certain words in front of William because he knows what they mean now. How many "n-a"s are in the word "banana" again?





















And he always cracks me up. Luckily for me, I can usually make him laugh pretty easily, too. That way, I get to hear his laugh all the time. Little silly guy.