Is it too early...

To think about The Boy's schooling?

I am happy to admit that I'm a big proponent of educational activities. I got The Boy a DVD of some strange, French teaching panda when he was about 5 months old. I've been playing him French nursery rhymes and showing him flashcards in French and English for about 6 months. I'm a big fan of alphabet blocks and toys with letter buttons.

I'm a little less happy to admit that I will, most likely, be a bit of a helicopter parent. I'll try to be cool about The Boy going out into the great big world, being a regular kid and learning from his own mistakes, but I can already tell I'm going to be more involved than he might like. I never had to deal with my parents pushing me into sports(I tried almost everything, but proved to be a spectacularly bad athlete) or attempting to assert themselves too forcefully into my academic career(the PTA was anathema to them and the 80's wasn't exactly the heyday of parental involvement).

The Boy won't be so lucky. I've been spending an embarrassing amount of time looking at websites that rate schools; some that rate just high schools and some that rate entire school districts. Some that list property values in the school district. Some that rate private schools.

It's overwhelming. Part of me wishes my nomadic, anti-hipster family was already well-established somewhere so where The Boy was to be schooled was already a faite accompli, but we're still as rudderless as we were in 1999. That means where we go is wide open, yet entirely based on some weird school calculus that is way above my head.

Bah!

(And my younger self is mortified right now)

Being a Mom With MS

Last week's bout of stomach flu made me realize many things; that Hubs does get sick sometimes; that I can, with great difficulty, look after The Boy even when suffering from a nasty MS relapse(fever is the devil for folks with MS); that the awesomeness of In N Out is not so awesome as to be able to withstand the stomach flu.

Mostly it made me realize, or come to terms with - I'd long ago realized - that no matter how hard I try or how much I wish, I am not like other mothers nor will I ever be. I am a doting, motivated devoted mom, but I am sick. Chronically sick, and my heart absolutely breaks thinking about it.

I will never get to walk through the park hand in hand with my son, teach him how to ride a bike or do any of the other things I mentioned in this post and that sucks more than anything else has ever sucked! Ever!!!

I just really felt like getting that out there. So now I can move on from debating the merits of getting a maid or a "mother's helper"(I decided against them) or using a harness for walks if I'm in my scooter(I got one, but haven't used it yet as he's still relatively fond of his stroller), to figuring out the ideal time to get an adapted van.

Oh well, I guess I'd be looking at mini vans in a few years anyway.

Foodie Friday

We were terribly sick this week, first The Boy, then Hubs, then me, so I’ve been seriously slack in keeping up with the blogging. We all had a stomach bug that the wee’un picked up from somewhere, presumably by chewing on something he shouldn’t have.

Needless to say my big plans for eating little fat have taken a serious nose dive. Our Friday night at the fair was a nutritional disaster. The days that have passed since then haven’t been particularly healthy either. I tried making some healthy turkey meatballs but they were so dry and terrifying that I have yet to try them(The Boy has enjoyed a few though). I had some In N Out on Wednesday, but promptly threw it all up. I went to bed shortly after.

The waste of a perfectly good burger, fries and milkshake notwithstanding, my main lesson of the day was that I will never get a day off. Ever! Well, at least not for the next 18 years or so.

As bad as I felt, The Boy still needed to be fed, changed, red to and played with. His own improving condition neither knew of nor cared that I felt like I’d been hit by a bus. The bug alone made me feel like a gigantic pile of poo, but the fever the bug brought meant that I moved at the speed approximating that of a glacier, that my limbs felt as though they were tethered to lead bricks.

We got through it, but only just. But as horrible as that sounds, I’m proud of us. I was incredibly sick, knocked on my butt by both the stomach flu and MS but we managed okay. In fact we managed better than okay! I never broke down in tears and The Boy seemed quite happy so, it was actually a success really. Go team!

In Search of Cloth Trainers

Though I bought my first Bum Genius 3.0 at a fancy schmancy boutique in my hometown and filled out the rest of my early stash of Bum Genius 3.0s from diapers.com, the place where I learned the most about cloth diapering was a website called jilliansdrawers.com – the online arm of a shop in Ithaca, New York. (Also a place made famous by THIS post at Young House Love – I’m not one to normally give a shout-out to the popular kids, but I thought it was cool that they actually visited the shop).

It was from Jillian’s Drawers that I got almost all of my wipes(Imse Vimse), my Kissaluvs dipes and my Thirsties covers. Love them!

At first I was looking at them again when I started researching cloth trainers, but then I discovered a local store has cloth trainers as well. The bad news is that the local store doesn’t have the cloth trainers that seem to be the most highly recommended – Imse Vimse brand.



They do have Little Beetles though



So what should I do? Just order some Imse Vimse from Jillian’s Drawers? Get a few of the Imse Vimse dipes from Jillian’s Drawers and a few of the super cute Little Beetles(a brand that is front and center at both Jillian’s Drawers and my local store) to see how they work and to support local business? Should I see if his cloth diapers hold out until he’s old enough to slip effortlessly into using big boy underwear? Am I over thinking this?

What to do? What to do? Good thing The Boy, despite making huge developmental leaps as of late, is nowhere near ready for training pants.

First Trip to the County Fair

We went to the fair this weekend. Hubs was fairly dubious about the whole thing, but was curious to see if The Boy would be more aware of the animals than he was when we went to the zoo a few months ago.

He was! And our trip to the fair was a huge success. He snorted at the pigs, baaa'd at the sheep and goats and mmmmm'd at the cows. And there I was thinking the animals from his Little People farm didn't resemble the actual animals enough to teach him anything meaningful.

Anyway, here is The Boy taking in some of the fine culinary offerings at the fair.


And looking at some cows


And taking a break with Mama in front of a ferris wheel.


It was a good time.

And Some Pics of Cuteness

Just 'cuz.

Coming back from a lunchtime walk with Dad



Showing off my teeth



With Mama at the zoo

The Best Thing Ever

My sweet boy

Listening to the sweet baby sounds he makes while sleeping, then listening to him talk to himself, or maybe to us, when he wakes up.

Seeing his eyes light up when he plays.

Seeing his eyes light up when his dad is done working, then running over to give his dad a hug.

Dancing and giggling to any and all songs – even the ones his tone-deaf mama sings to him.

Watching how excited he gets when I go anywhere near the fruit bowl, and saying “nananana” to let me know he’d like a banana.

Baby smell, even though he’s a toddler now.

Super soft baby hair.

Saying “Mama” and reaching for me.

Being so transparent when he’s tired, rubbing his eyes and sticking out his lower lip.

Letting me give him kisses even when he would rather play.

Touching my face and smiling when I nurse him.

My Boy is too wonderful for me to be able to list all the things that make him the best thing ever, but this is a start.

Walkie Wednesday

Today is Walkie Wednesday, but I thought I’d also do a Boy word-check today.

Just shy of 14 months, my clever little love now says mama, dada, nana(banana), haaa(hi), daaaaa(bye), uhf(woof), baa(for what goats and sheep say), snort(for what picg say), ooh(for what monkeys say) and he can sign “eat.”

That’s nearly 10 words! Clever little lad.

Anyhoo, someday I’d like to take The Boy for a walk along the Seine, but we have to get to Paris first. In the meantime lunchtime walks with Hubs by our house and walks near the café with Grandpa will do quite nicely.

But when we do get to Paris, I think I’d like to start out by introducing him to Notre Dame, then by stopping off at Shakespeare and Co to get a book or two. We’d then round the corner and get a coffee(hot chocolate for he boy) at the café on Place St. Michel just like I did all those years ago, when I was so poor that I’d nurse a cappuccino for hours and write in my journal, because that’s all I could afford to do.

After pushing The Boy’s boredom threshold, we’d then continue traversing the quay along the Seine, me in my scooter and my boys walking beside me – rolling their eyes at my nostalgic rambling. We’d see the Louvre and Toilleries across the river and walk past Les Invalides and the Musee d’Orsay, before finally rounding a corner and being at the base of the Eiffel Tower.



Awesome!

A little cuteness

I'm testing my ability to upload pics to my blog, so I thought I'd start with this. None of the promised walking, but it sure is cute.


And I failed. Will keep trying, but have learned my lesson about posting things before previewing them.

Walkie Wednesday

Let me preface this by saying that I swore up and down that The Boy would be taking his first steps by 10 months.

Though he wasn’t actually crawling, preferring to belly flop to get from Point A to Point B, he started cruising along furniture and pushing around his wagon when he was just over 8 months. So I kept saying, “mark my words, he’ll be walking within a few weeks.”

I was soon saying that he’d be walking by 12 months. Yup, he’d be ambulatory by his first birthday. And he did me proud be taking his first independent steps on Independence Day. Hooray!

But then he retreated back to the world of crawling, actual crawling(as opposed to belly flopping), but crawling nonetheless.

What a relief it was for my back when, seemingly out of nowhere, The Boy decided to start walking like it’s his job a week after his birthday! That was a month ago, and now that he’s walked on the beach and has a pair of walking shoes I gotta say I miss the cuteness of the crawl.

Ps. I’ve been trying to get my camera to upload some recent piccies and videos of walking cuteness, but am not having any luck. Hopefully Hubs can help me sort it out after work,

Some things a mother should never take for granted(but often does)

Going on a morning walk and pointing out the birds, flowers and trees.

Taking your baby to the beach for the first time, holding your baby’s hand as they walk in the sand, wading into the surf and dipping your baby’s toes in the water.

Strolling around the mall and giving your child their first taste of frozen yogurt.

Visiting the zoo and holding your child as they get their first eyeful of monkey.

Going to a museum and showing off your favorite works of art.

Dancing to your favorite 80’s tune with your baby in your arms, because it’s never to early to teach them to love their inner dork.

Visiting a park, laying in the grass and enjoying time with just the two of you. Cuddling in the sunshine the way that you can only do when they’re small.

Hopefully you'll get to do at least one of these things over the long weekend. Enjoy it!

Walkie Wednesday

I’ve decided pay weekly homage to my old favorite pastime: walking. Sounds silly and facile, but I used to luuurrrve walking back in the day. And now, though I may not be so good at the walking anymore(but I can still walk, for those of you that are wondering), it’s definitely become one of The Boy’s favorite things to do.

Yup, walking’s a big deal in our household, so welcome to Walkie Wednesday.

I’m currently in the throes of desperately wanting to plan The Boy’s first trip to Europe, so I’ll begin with a bit of nostalgia by writing about walking in Europe; Prague, to be specific.

A million years ago, when Prague was still part of Czechoslovakia and not part of the Czech Republic, long before Hubs and The Boy were even a glimmer in my eye, I packed a flimsy backpack and took my teenage self to Prague.

This particular walk started in Old Town Square, the gorgeous geographical center of Prague. It was July so it was warm, and I left Old Town Square after dinner and set out on Karlova Street, which extends in a west-ish squiggle from the Square.

The cobblestones were fairly uneven, making for many spills and tumbles when I walked the route a few years later between my job – at a bar – and my best friend’s job – also at a bar. But even in my sober state that last night of my first trip, the cobbles were still a tricky endeavor.

The sun was setting as I wound my way down Karlova Street, filled even then with trinket vendors and tourist wares housed in Baroque buildings. It was awesome and romantic and everything my suburban hometown was not.

And then I crossed Smetanovo Street and ended up on Charles Bridge. Looming ahead of me, atop the big hill in Malastrana(Lesser Town), was Prague Castle, with St. Vitus Cathedral hugging it tightly. The whole thing was lit up perfectly, like the icing on an immaculate cupcake.

I’m not fudging the truth at all by saying that it brought tears to my eyes, or that my life was completely altered by that walk and THAT view.

Hubs has visited Prague with me a few times and remains moderately impressed, but I cannot wait to take The Boy! By the time we take him I’m sure he’ll have grown tired of my stories about backpacking around Europe and living all over the place, but I will still be super excited to show him, in person, some of the life I lived before he and his dad came into my life, and before MS got the better of my walking ability.

As awesome as our day-to-day life may be, I can’t believe how much we have to look forward to. And that walk from Old Town Square to Charles Bridge is at the top of the list.

(Once I get a scanner I'll upload some pics of me and That View

Playdate-tastic!

We don’t get out that much and are rarely around other kids, save for The Boy’s weekly Gymboree class, but this weekend we had a play date with a nineteen month old.

It went much better than expected. They played outside and The Boy got dirtier than he’s been since the poop-in-his-nose incident at birth. He ate a muffin, fell into a bush and had his first argument over sharing a toy car.

It did my heart an enormous amount of good to know that he can communicate with other kids, that our MS-related semi-seclusion doesn’t mean that he can’t keep up with day care-raised social butterflies when he does get to spend time with other kids. The Boy didn’t freak out and come running to me or to Hubs when the older kid bounded into our house and grabbed all of his toys. I’m so glad that he held his own against an older kid whose favorite word appears to be “mine!”

Yup, yesterday was everything I imagined it should be. Lots of giggles and squeals, lots of dirt and destruction, and tears of exhaustion followed by a nice, long nap at the end of it all.

My Happy Life

::Warning! The following post may come off as achingly smug to working mamas. That is genuinely not my intention::

I was suffering from a bit of insomnia last night. While tossing, turning and trying to clear my head of all the junk it accumulated during the day(stupid internets), I got to thinking about the very best truism of my life; I am a stay at home mom and I get to spend almost all of my time with my little boy.

Simple, yes. Obvious, most definitely. But how lucky am I?

What an absolute luxury to be here for every milestone, smile and giggle. What an honor to get to teach him things, prepare all his food and endure the mess it makes when feeding him or letting him feed himself.

When I was younger I never imagined I’d be a housewife or SAHM. I thought I had too much to do. Nothing concrete exactly, just stuff. Important stuff.
But now I’m shaming my younger self by admitting that there is nothing I will ever do that is as important as making sure The Boy grows up to be a good man.

So, as The Boy naps, I am thanking my lucky stars to be fortunate enough to be his mom and, more than that, to be his primary caregiver. We are a non-stop, 24-7 Mom and Boy team and, as tired and frustrated as I may get at times, I wouldn’t change it for anything.

Now, if only he’d wake up so I could give him some of that tuna salad I slaved over.

13 Months

The Boy’s First Birthday Post – One month late

My son was born thirteen months ago, more than a week late and weighing 7 pounds 11 ounces. It was a med-free vaginal birth, a testament both to my stubbornness to let MS affect my birth experience and to my fear of needles.

After 36 hours of labor I finally got to meet my son, screaming and with meconium coming out of his nose. I blubbered to Hubs, “look at what we made.

I bled a lot, so much I nearly needed a transfusion. I also tore badly and had trouble getting rid of all of my placenta. So, after holding him all too briefly, they took The Boy from me and sent me to have surgery.

Hubs went with The Boy and I went under, waking up a short time later totally looped(it was not long after Michael Jackson died and I kept asking the nurse if they gave me what killed him) and wondering where my family was.

Here's a picture of him when he was new:



We brought the Boy home two days later. Both completely ill-prepared, I relied on Hubs’ diaper changing experience. It entailed only the few diapers he’d changed since The Boy was born, but it was greater than mine.
Since then I’d venture to say that we’ve both changed hundreds of diapers – though it feels like thousands, or even millions.

Always super alert, The Boy smiled at two weeks and laughed not long after that. He rolled from tummy to back at his one month check-up and back to front around five months.

He started belly-flopping around six months and relied on that as his means of getting around until he was almost a year old, where he quickly went from crawling properly to walking. He pulled himself up and scooted around on furniture and people from around seven months, but has been a bona fide walker for several weeks now.

He has gone from loving his playmat to his Jumperoo to his wagon to his bike.




Pic of bike to follow

He began his year relying on breast milk and now he resembles something more like a garbage disposal unit, eating everything he can fit in his mouth.



He is clever and sweet and silly and mischievous and dramatic. He is more than we could have hoped for when we decided to get pregnant two years ago. I love him more than anything and am so grateful to have him in my life and to be able to call him my son. I can only hope that I am worthy of such a blessing.




Happy 13 month birthday, Baby Boy!

Love, Your Devoted Mama

Sad baby

The Boy and I have both been fighting colds since the weekend. He picked some bug up whilst sharing baby slobber at Gymboree and passed it along to me. His face is covered in snot. I’ve got a killer headache. We’re both rattling the walls with our coughing. It ain’t pretty.

Life goes on though, and, despite his congestion, he can still concentrate on his alphabet flashcards for a half dozen letters . He also still thinks that all animals, not just pigs, say oink, but never mind.

About the big push to start using my brain again, I’ve actually started reading Madame Bovary, despite my dad’s protestations that it’s depressing drivel. I gotta say, at only 40 pages in I already feel like it’s going much better than the populist book club crap I tried too get through at the start of the year.

I’ve been reading Beatniks by the divine Toby Litt at bedtime when I’m not too tired to keep my eyes open. That’s, admittedly, not very often, but I’m slowly making my way through it. That said, I count Mr. Litt’s books as my kind of brain candy, so I can hardly feel like I’m benefiting from too much intellectual growth by reading his work. Love him though.

The Boy has just bought me the fixin’s for a cloth diaper. That’s a first. If it’s a sign that he wants me to change him there might be hope that he may one day be receptive to potty training.

Pins and needles in my arm

I have Multiple Sclerosis, a degenerative disease that strips my nerves of their myelin sheath and my life of the kind of fly-by-the-seat-of-my-pants get-up-and-go that used to define me. I was diagnosed more than seven years ago now. I was living in the London at the time with the love of my life. Since then I moved to Canada, then back to my native Southern California, I married my aforementioned love and I gave birth to the coolest baby ever.
Not bad for a gimp.

Like I think I heard them say on some hideous reality show, I can(still) do what everyone else does, I just do it slightly differently.
Like this morning, for example. My baby, angry from the molars growing in his mouth, awoke at 7 30. I nursed him, ate my Mini-Wheats while giving him some Joe’s O’s(Cheerios for Trader Joe’s lovers), took a shower then had Hubs(who works from home) help us downstairs to the car.

Boy and I then met my dad for coffee. Dad moved Boy from the car seat to his stroller. I can do that, but even my 70 year old dad can get it done quicker than me.

We do all the same stuff in reverse, ending up planted in our living room where I’m left to look after Boy until Hubs finishing work – usually around 7 pm.
Depending on how pissed off my disease is on any particular day, I find keeping up with Boy fluctuates. I loved when he started crawling and I could trick him into coming to me instead of wobbly picking Boy up and killing my back in the process. There are days when I’m too tired to move the chairs that form our baby barricade to the table for lunch time, so I feed him free-range style. It’s messy, but nothing a ton of tea towels and some slipcovers can’t handle.

We have to deal with all the normal stuff of life a bit differently, but the final product remains pretty much the same.

Take the smash cake at Boy's 1st birthday party, the end result of which can be seen above. Good times.