And Now, a 1 -Year-Old

Our little baby turned 1 yesterday!

I was much more emotional about it than I expected. Munch was as well, looking at the newborn pictures and saying "Oh, I could cry." Me too, kid!

Hubs and I took the day off, as was our custom with Munch until he entered kindergarten. What do you do with a 1 year old? LOL. With Munch, we went to the zoo, but it somehow felt wrong to go on such a fun outing without big brother. So, we just spent the day together and that was special enough.

We had not yet gotten Crab furniture for his bedroom. Crazy, I know. Multiple factors, not least of which is that we decided to follow the American Academy of Pediatrics' new recommendation of keeping the baby in our bedroom for the first 12 months. Some may say crazy, but it was nice. So there was no need for a crib yet!

So, we went to Buy Buy Baby and found a convertible crib and dresser for our boy. Soon he will have a room all his own! I'm not sure he'll be happy with that, since I'm sure it'll be a transition... After that, we grabbed subs and the baby took a nap, so I wrapped his presents and watched Law & Order: CI for an hour LOL.

Then, off to our default go-to, Barnes and Noble. We walked around the pond and then hung out a bit. I bought more books (oopsie) and a cool one for Munch for Christmas. We had Starbucks and the baby played takeaway with Hubs' hat.

Then, it was off to Gramma's for dinner, cake, and presents. Crab ate a ton of cake! He just kept eating it LOL. As he sat next to his brother with a piece untouched--a tale of two personalities! He actually opened his presents and really seemed excited! Especially about the remote and the rolly elephant filled with Duplo blocks. It was a great time!

It's crazy to think he's a whole year old. In some ways, this year has seemed so long--we've had a lot of goings-on and changes. We bought a new house, moved, got the townhouse ready for rent, finally found a renter, Munch switched schools, oh and lest we forget I broke my foot 2.5 weeks postpartum, Crab got a cold at the same time, and honestly I had a very hard time with the first couple months of mother-of-two-hood.

Hubs keeps saying "I wish we could go back and re-experience the birth." I'm like, don't you remember Dr. J running in to check the heart rate every 10 minutes? Don't you remember the stress and fear? He was like "Oh right, I forgot about that." Whereas, I was so relieved the baby was born healthy and safely, that he was out and I could touch him, that I in no way want to imagine him back in! The newborn phase was very difficult for me, I remember being on the brink of panic and thinking, "I can't do this!" It took a long time to adjust to being tied to breastfeeding again, having to haul diapers around again, losing so much independence again. And of course the broken foot really complicated things. All because I needed a Jimmy John's sub. *smh*

But yet I remember the later part of maternity leave, when I was able to get around better, those days of long naps as Crab laid on my lap and I binged "Game of Thrones" LOL. Hauling the stroller out at Munch's school to pick him up and then going for a Starbuck. Sitting with the sleeping baby at Barnes and Noble. Those days, I miss.

Crab is the sweetest baby. Headstrong and stubborn, oh yes. I want him to be--I am intensely aware of the "youngest child syndrome," especially since we have two kids of the same gender. Already people are like, what presents do we get him--because of course Munch has every toy under the sun. He wears hand-me-downs and plays with old toys. As a second child myself--and the MIDDLE at that--I want both my children to feel special in their own right, for Crab not to feel in any way overshadowed or that what he is going through is any less worthy an experience because Munch went through it first, and because we went through it WITH Munch first.

As an aside, the other day, Munch was upset about who-knows-what, something we found trivial, and he said to Hubs, "You don't know my life!" No truer statement. I also don't want Munch to feel any less special either, because now we have the baby to dote on. My life is a constant balancing act and I fear that no matter what we do, oldest kids and youngest kids perceive the world how they do and we cannot stop it.

But I digress. The baby has come through his first year with some illnesses--mostly head colds, some fevers, his fair share of ear infections. No tubes (yet). The poor thing has eczema that I wish would clear up sooner rather than later. He LOVES food, most especially pizza and bread. He weaned himself at 9.5 months and is not terribly enthused about the bottle at any rate. He says "keeey" for kitty and loves his brother. He crawls like a champ and I love when he looks down to watch his legs moves as he goes. He pulls himself up and falls forward into waiting arms, but no walking yet. A little cruising. He cut six teeth, the top four all at once. He has a sizeable space between his front teeth because of the lip tie (which didn't have to be cut when he was first born), but that will only add to his charm.

When he's angry or frustrated, which is becoming more often now that he knows what he wants, he throws himself backward regardless of how hard the floor is--this causes serious flares of my anxiety. He will sit and wiggle his head from side to side and squawk like a bird to show you just how displeased he is. He loves balls and dances to music, rocking his hips front to back. He tries to climb the stairs, but then sits down, so someone better be right behind him. He has come into our bed every night since he was about 5 months old--we never really got over the 4-month sleep regression. When he falls asleep, he clenches his hands on the backs of my arms and leaves bruises, but I am willing to sacrifice my body for his comfort. His eyes are hazel and his hair medium brown. Only curly when he's sweaty or has bedhead.

He has a wave worthy of royalty, his arm outstretched high above his head. He loves to drink water. He has been on an airplane and gone to Disney World in the billion degree heat. He has been to Maryland, Pennsylvania, Florida, Virginia, and Washington, DC. He experienced the solar eclipse in the shadow of the Blue Ridge Mountains. He has taken probably a dozen baths LOL. He loves to be in the water with his brother.  He claps on command, but expects you to join in. 

I could not love this second boy of mine more.

Firsts

Crab has had so many firsts already that I am sure I've forgotten some, even though he's only 5 months old. Here are some of the biggies:

First rollover: February 8, he rolled from belly to back. He's done it a few times since, and he's so close to being able to do back to front, but he's not rolling all over the place yet. He still hates tummy time, so that's not surprising.

First dose of Tylenol: January 2, after his 2 month vaccines. Poor baby.

First bath: About 1 week old. Crab has eczema on his cheeks especially, so we give very few baths at this point. 

First state visited: Pennsylvania.

First cold: When he was 2.5 weeks old. Terrifying and infuriating.

First day of daycare: March 1, his 4 month birthday.

First solid food: Sweet potatoes. He didn't really care for them at the time, but LOVES bananas and this week ate a whole jar of sweet potatoes. He also likes pears and apples. Peas, not so much.

First antibiotic: Amoxicillin, for his first ear infection, March 31.

There and Back Again

About a week ago, I sat next to my sunscreened husband on a catamaran boat, our legs swinging over the side as we watched the sun set over the Caribbean Sea. The air was warm and breezy, the drinks refreshing, the sea clear and blue.

Hubs and I just spent 7--but really 9 because of travel times--days and nights away from our little Munch. It was our 12th anniversary on February 1, and it was a perfect way to spend it.

Not to sound ungrateful, (bear with me) but this is not a trip I asked for. In fact, when Hubs called me a year ago and said he'd won the trip in a drawing at work, I immediately began to cry.

Because I knew. I knew I would "have" to go. And I knew Munch would not be.


Winning a trip as a mother is not the same as winning a trip as a free-wheeling single lady (disclaimer: I have never been this person, but I imagine it's not the same). First thoughts were not of snorkeling and excursions and how many bathing suits to bring but OH MY GOD I CAN NEVER SPEND THAT MUCH TIME AWAY FROM MUNCH. I felt panicky and scared and sad.

There was a lot of motherly guilt thrown in at the beginning of trip planning: A mother "shouldn't" "abandon" her child to go off on a vacation. A mother "shouldn't" be able to spend 9 nights away while her son was in the capable hands of another. A mother "shouldn't" "want" to do these things.

And I always get a bit of a twinge when I hear statements from mothers like, "In 15 years, I've never spent a night away from my children." It's a bit of a badge of honor but also sacrifice. To not be in that club, well, frankly it makes me sometimes feel like I'm selfish or I must not care about my kid as much. I know these are false feelings, but they are the ones I hear whispering at night.

But. I've talked before about how I am desperately in love with my husband. We want to believe that this is a "given" and a "duh" in marriage, but I've seen enough marriages that prove this is not the case. But I do love Hubs, like love him, and it's always been extremely important to me for our children to witness this love. We love to be together. And while we love to parent together, this is different from "being" together. Relaxing together.

Hubs and I had not been on a Caribbean vacation where we didn't know another person since our honeymoon, 7 years ago.

Through good, hard work and a lot of support from my family (and, of course, my counselor), I put those "motherly guilt" statements aside. I worked to replace them with statements about how important it is for a husband and a wife to spend one-on-one time together, especially when both are working parents. How important it is for our son to see us enjoy spending time together. How important for our son to know he can spend time away from us, have a great time away from us in fact, and learn how that is okay and normal and good. How important for Munch to know that we can go away and come back.

And so we went. My biggest hurdles were the plane trips. I was terrified, despite all my logic-thinking. "Turbulence is normal." "Flying is a safe mode of travel." I was a mess both travel days, until wheels down in our final destination cities. My panic only heightened as we got closer to seeing Munch again--I wanted it so much, I was sure I wouldn't get to. But, of course, we did.

And it was wonderful seeing our Munch again. He was excited, we were excited. He had such fun at gramma and grampa's, and I thank my in-laws to high heaven for taking such amazing care of him--I never once worried about how he was doing, and that in itself is a blessing. We've had some transition bumps the past few days, like at night when he holds my hand and whispers over and over "Mommy, no go leave." Some meltdowns ("Mommy say no to me."). But, mostly all is back to normal. This is good for him to see, but also good for me to see.

I did it! I made it. It may seem strange to feel a sense of accomplishment after merely going on vacation, which I know we were truly blessed to do, but I do feel proud. Now, with a snowstorm bearing down, St. Lucia is a distant memory, almost as if it was a dream. Did I really lie on the beach for 7 straight hours a day? Did I wear my bathing suit and flip flops? Does the resort really exist?

They are memories Hubs and I will cherish, and we're committed to making vacations like these priorities in the coming years. And, similar to how I feel as a working mom, being away from and subsequently back with Munch has made me appreciate him all the more. The way he smiles and jumps 11 times in a row and plays with my hair and kisses our cats. I am thankful and grateful for the time away, and for coming back to my normal routine.

Pee-Pee on the Potty!

Milestone! Munch went pee-pee on the potty last weekend!

It was one of those accidental things--we are not yet starting potty training proper. We always give Munch "naked time" after his bath. The 20-30 minutes he plays in the nude are among his most carefree--and who can blame him? If I spent every other moment in a diaper, I'd relish a little air down there as well!

Over the past several months, he's gotten good at signalling when he's about to pee, so we can rush him into the diaper (as opposed to when he was younger when we kept cleaner on hand and he just let er rip while he played).

(The time he started pooping, when we were able to stick a diaper underneath him just in time, that was a shining parenting moment, I'll tell ya.)

Now, he'll look at one of us, get very quiet, start fiddling with his weiner, and say "Poopy." (Everything is poopy right now, be it #1 or #2.)

He did this last Friday night, and instead of rushing him into a diaper, we rushed him to the big potty. We held him on the pot and he looked at us like, "What now?"

I said, "Go pee pee! Go pee pee like Daddy!" (Sorry, Hubs.)

His belly tensed and then he peed! We cheered and clapped. It was a big night in our little realm. Now we need to find the perfect training potty for the big climb up Mount Potty Training.

From Cue Ball to Mad Scientist to Hayley Mills

Munch had his first haircut last weekend! We went to a really fun place called Kidville, and he got to sit in the firetruck chair and ring the bell and pretend to drive the whole time. He had a very good time, and didn't seem to care that anything was going on except when the stylist was cutting his bangs and he didn't like that going on in front of his face. So we gave him a Blueberry Dum-Dum and he pronounced that "Nummy" and went about his business.

We've waited a long time for the hair cut--2 years and nearly 2 months. It's been a long journey that started in utero. At one ultrasound, my OB said that Munch had what appeared to be a particularly round and large head. We then started picturing Charlie Brown and I started worrying about birthing a baby with a head like a bulldog's. My husband has a rather round and large head, so we weren't terribly surprised.

Luckily, Munch's head is perfectly normal sized and it's not noticibly round. He was born with a very light dusting of blond fuzz that he promptly shedded. My cousin once had an ultrasound where her daughter's hair was waving in the breeze (I understand that the breeze was fluid, but my way sounds so much nicer).

Not Munch's. Munch had no hair to speak of and he seemed to get balder as the months went on. He had the finest layer of hair and appeared totally bald for the first 6 months. His hair started filling in until his first birthday he had essentially a tiny mohawk on top, where his hair came to a point over his forehead, not much on the sides or in the back.

From his first to second year, Munch's hair took on a life of its own. He grew curls, corkscrewing, wonderful curls along the back of his head. His head of hair thickened, and he fell as in love with it as I did--he often laid on my lap, drinking his bottle, and caressing his own hair. Eventually, when wet, the back of his hair fell down between his shoulder blades. Daddy created rock star spikes with shampoo. He would wake up with bedhead like you've never seen. And I loved my red-blond-light brown baby's hair as much as my own (and that's a lot, since my hair is basically the only feature I'm vain about).

We marked his second birthday pictures as the milestone to get to before the cut. We wanted him to look like "himself" in the pictures. Those happened in mid-April, and we just kept delaying and delaying. Munch grew messier by the day, with his bangs falling into his eyes and his sweaty curls clinging to his cheeks after each muggy May playground afternoon.

It was time. He looked nuts sometimes, with the curls poking out every which way. He had a tangle of curls.

The stylist cautioned against going too short--I think it's like when a woman goes in with hair down to her butt and demands a pixie, the stylist balks. She cut off some of the length in back, but it still curls up. She shortened the bangs and the sides. Munch looked cleaner. I was so happy to get to keep the curls.

Then, he woke up the next morning, with his hair flattened by sleep and his bangs down on his forehead. Hubs said, "I think he looks even more girly now--I didn't expect that."

The thing is, Munch now looks a bit like Hayley Mills in The Parent Trap--after they cut East-coast twin's hair. Google it, I'll wait ....

Yep, that's Munch right now. He looks like a middle-aged woman with a light perm. I think it's the poufyness, along with the bangs. He also looks a bit like George Harrison in the 50s.

I'm not terribly devestated by this, it's just taking some getting used to. And, I told Hubs, this first haircut is a point of reference--next time, we can say, we need it shorter or thinned out. We've at least cleared this hurdle.

The Parent Trap was always one of my favorite movies anyway.

Munch Ate Chicken Nuggets

And the heavens opened and an angel choir sang HALLELUJAH!!

What is a momentous event for me would be what some mothers would only call "dinner." Or, this would be a momentous event for them, say, a year or more ago.

My son is 2 years old. And he is a picky eater. At least at home. At daycare, he's been eating those nuggets for a year or more.

But those nine (NINE!) nuggets were the first morsels of meat Munch has eaten for me in his entire life. HIS ENTIRE LIFE!!

I've tried nuggets before. Usually, his father or I end up eating them after he turns his head away with no interest at all. Like, "Woman, seriously? You thought I'd eat THAT?"

Last night, with less than zero hope that he would do anything but push the plate away, I gave him three nuggets, cut into fours.

He sat on my lap and watched videos of "the baby" (himself) on my iPhone (a post on raising a potential narcissist to come at a later date).

Without batting an eye, he picked up a nugget.

I tensed and clenched my teeth, wanting to give no reaction that I cared in the least whether that chicken passed his lips.

He ate it.

And reached for another.

And another.

When those were gone, he asked for "mo." When another three nuggets were gone ... he asked ... for "mo." And he ate them.

Internally, I rejoiced! I wanted to scream out into the rainy night: MY SON ATE CHICKEN NUGGETS!!!!!! IRON, IT'S WHAT'S FOR DINNER!!!!!!

But, I made like it was the most normal moment of our lives, happens every day, will happen again tomorrow.

No biggie.

After all, it's just dinner.

Front-Facing Car Puke

This post should have been able to focus on a huge milestone--Munch, at 2 years old, is now front-facing in his carseat! Hubs and I have been so excited for this change, yet another step in growing up. No longer is Munch crunched against the back of the seat, his long legs folded over, with only himself in his monkey mirror to look at.

But. The first front-facing car ride was more exciting than Hubs and I ever could have dreamed.

Hubs heroically turned the seat around in under an hour, having to resort to an online reference video only once. Because the weather was finally nice, and to give Munch a treat, we decided to drive up to Wegmans, about a half hour away, instead of going to our normal grocery store just down the street.

At first, everything went as I envisioned: I kept turning around to say hi to Munch, he kept giving me his little "I can't believe I'm doing this" side-eye smile in return. About halfway through the trip, though, Munch's demeanor changed. He didn't smile in response. He hardly made eye contact. I told Hubs, "He's out of it." And I thought he was going to fall asleep.

We got to Wegmans and parked. Hubs and I turned around and I started to tell Munch about this great grocery store when ....

The child puked.

Horrible, wrenching heaves that wouldn't stop for quite some time.

I won't go into more detail. But believe me, it was bad. Puke. Everywhere.

I jumped out of the car and froze. The problem seemed so huge, I couldn't start to fix it. Hubs, bless his soul, went straight to the backseat and started extricating Munch, instructing me to get the extra outfit out of the diaper bag (thank God we still keep that thing kinda stocked!). Then I ran in to Wegmans (we're at a grocery store, self! they sell everything you could need) and got wet paper towels.

I changed poor, shaking Munch while Hubs, again heroically, started scrubbing out the car as best he could.

The biggest question (besides how we were going to make it home in such a disgusting car) was why the puke.

• First thought--car sick. Could it be a coincidence that on Munch's first front-facing ride, he threw up? Although, he's never showed any propensity for motion sickness, either in the car, as Daddy twirls him all over in their dancing and rough-housing, or on the Dumbo ride at Disney.
• Second thought--his medicine. Munch is on a very high dose of antibiotic to try to get rid of this lingering ear infection. 
• Third thought--bug. A stomach bug that could ravage the rest of us? Joy.

His doctor said that any one of these could be the problem. After he got home with no puking incident (of course, nothing was left in his stomach, but), she recommended that we give him his evening dose of medicine and see what happened.

What happened was, he puked in bed at 12:30am. Commence heroic Daddy again, cleaning up the sheets and starting to wash every lovie in Munch's crib. This time, though, Mommy didn't freeze and I washed poor again shaking Munch in the bath and then cuddled the poor thing to sleep.

So, not carsick. But, still could have been medicine. Or, could have been bug. We skipped 2 days of medicine and didn't give Munch any dairy on Sunday. We had no further puke incidents. Hubs and I both felt a bit off, but neither of us had incidents either.

So, the question of bug or medicine remains. And, he's back on the medicine and we're going on a car trip this weekend, so we should find that out in a few days.

Not fun, but yet another parental milestone dealt with--the dreaded car puke. We survived. And the car is being detailed as we speak.

A Windy, Wonderful Birthday

4/6/2013 Update: It's now 2 weeks past the party, and the weather is looking up--not breezy today, of course! I finally got some pictures uploaded. Enjoy!

I can't believe that one week ago right now, Hubs and I were bundling Munch up in the freezing March weather to go to the National Aquarium in DC for his BIRTHDAY!

We had a really fabulous birthday weekend, all told. The party picnic was well-attended DESPITE the horrid wind. And Munch was in a good mood the whole time! He even napped when he was supposed to.

Friday Highlights

Like I said, Friday morning, we went to the National Aquarium. This is not a massive aquarium, by
any stretch of the imagination. It's essentially a room in the basement of the U.S. Department of Commerce building and features aquariums inspired by various parts of the world--the Potomac River, the Great Lakes, the Great Barrier Reef, etc. We'd briefly considered going to the amazing Baltimore Aquarium, but at $30 a pop, we figured we'd save that for when Munch could "get" it a little more.

And that likely was a good plan, as Munch was most interested in the curving blue staircase. He looked at the large enclosure filled with American alligators and when we looked in each window, he said "allo" (water), but then he'd look at me and say, "stairs." So we walked around for a bit, then he ran up and down the length of the room for a while, picked out a stuffed starfish, and then we left, via said staircase.

Munch has been to the National Zoo twice before, which is technically in DC, but this was his first time downtown, near the Mall. We wanted to walk to the White House, which is close to the Commerce building, but it was so windy, and Munch was fighting a head cold, and I didn't want to risk him being sick for his party.

Saturday Highlights

Star cakes courtesy of
my lovely older sister

Saturday, which also happened to be my birthday, dawned at least sunny and, we thought, with calm breezes. Much to our dismay, when we got out to the picnic shelter, we discovered that in an open field, the wind was quite ... roaring. So some things went by the wayside--my MIL had gotten nice primary color tablecloths ... they blew right off, no matter how much tape I tried. I'd gotten some stars to hang up on the posts ... same issue, and they kept hitting people like Chinese fighting stars. I wanted guests to write messages to Munch on star cutouts--no way that was happening. It's a good thing I didn't get balloons.

Party favors courtesy
of my lovely MIL

BUT, there was a lot of room, which was our main goal. People mingled, ate pizza and cake, and watched Munch run around, down a sloping hill and up to the parking lot. Lots of our friends who we don't see too often came, so it was great to catch up, and it was wonderful bringing both sides of the family together. Hubs and I are always so thankful that Munch is so beloved and that our families' love for him brings everyone together.

Gold star for all

Will we have Munch's March birthday outside again? We'll see. USUALLY, the weather is at least 15 degrees warmer right now. I believe this year was an anomaly. And the lesson I am glad I learned before the party: Be prepared to adjust expectations. If I had had my heart SET on certain things, like the decorations, I likely would have been devastated. I concentrated on enjoying what was happening rather than lamenting what "should" have happened. Removing the pressure from myself and the event led to a very enjoyable time!


Amazing Hubs

And though for the past few years, my own birthday has taken a backseat to Munch's (in my own mind), so many people made me feel special for the occasion. My parents, sisters, MIL, and even some friends got me some wonderful presents.

And Hubs gave me one of the most thoughtful gifts he's ever done--a myriad of presents, some over the top and totally more than I expected, that are meant to refocus me on my writing. It feels so wonderful to have a husband who nurtures my interests and cheers me on.

All in all, a successful turning 2 for Munch, leaving me grateful for many blessings.

And Then Munch Turned 2

2 years old!

So many things go through my mind on this momentous day. How FAST these 2 years have gone. How it seems that Munch has been in my life forEVER. How much he's changed since his 1st birthday. How TALL he is. How much he TALKS now.

Over the past year ...

• Munch learned to walk, taking his first long string of steps around 15 months.
• He rode an airplane.
• He served as the cutest ring-bearer who ever wore a baby tank top.
• Hair grew on his head so long, it's near mullet status now.
• Mommy manned up and started laying him down awake for naps and bedtime.
• Teeth sprouted with a vengeance.
• Restaurants have become a distant memory, for Munch rarely sits for long.
• Love affairs intensified with Elf, Monkey, Cow, and other lovies.
• He met Mickey Mouse and the gang.
• Ear infections gave us a reprieve.
• He "swam" in a pool, several of them, in fact.
• His palate expanded, but let's not get crazy.
• Stars, moons, and circles delight him.
• He weaned.
• He stayed overnight with Gramma and Grampa, and Mommy only cried a little.
• He outgrew two sizes (except pants, he can still fit into 18 months of those).
• Walking became an activity all of its own.
• Stairs have been conquered.
• We danced.

This list touches only the very surface of another magical year. The other day, I looked at Munch's sonogram pictures. This tiny little peanut-shaped centimeter is now 34 inches tall. He talks to me and understands what I say. He is a person, when 2 years ago, my body still felt his absence acutely, when 2 years ago, we had only just been separated, one being into two.

Thank you, Munch, for the joy you've brought to me and your daddy. For making me stronger and happier. For teaching me the extreme vulnerablilities a parent feels and for giving me the courage to know that it's worth it, that it's all--from the terror to the exhaustion to the gut-busting laughter--worth it.

Thank you for choosing me as your mother. I promise to do my very best for you, every day of my life.

And Then He Was 23 Months Old!

One more month. One more month until my baby crosses what in my mind is the true threshold to toddlerdom. 

Oh yes, he's toddlier and toddlier every day--from saying that everything he can't see, like the vacuum or the kitties, is bye-bye to wanting to do things like walk and brush teeth and stand on chairs by himself to really, really hating to be told no. 

He's toddler everywhere but in my heart.

One more month until he's no longer 1. 

One more month until the world really doesn't care about months anymore, but years. 

One more month until the world will label him "terrible" but I will label him tenacious and tough.

One more month. One more step up the ladder of his life.

Ahead of the First Overnighter

Today is my husband and my 11th anniversary! Not wedding, but what I call our "organic" anniversary--that of our first date. Some people may stop counting this anniversary after they get married; to me, this is the most important anniversary, the one that sprouted up of its own volition, not the one that is special because I chose a date. Also, Hubs and I were together for 5 years before we got married, and we lived together for most of that time; our life together started long before we got married. I'm not going to erase those five years!

To celebrate, we are going back to Where It All Began--Gettysburg. We're staying at a wonderful little locally owned hotel in their "Majestic Suite"--King bed, jacuzzi, the works.

And, we're not bringing Munch.

Tomorrow night will be the first time I've stayed away from my son overnight. Hubs, because of various work and family obligations, has had to stay away a few times over the past 22 months. I have been with this child overnight and every morning of his life. And, he was with me constantly for 9 months before that.

This is going to be hard, but it's also going to be good. For both Munch and me.

As a child of divorce, one of my biggest priorities is to keep my marriage, the partnership between Hubs and me, strong. Kids are a stressor; I try to ignore all of the articles on studies showing that married couples with kids are inherently unhappier than couples without kids. I would argue that it's a different type of happiness. Kids enrich your life in ways I could not have foreseen; but, you also have a LOT less energy and time for one-on-one devotion to anyone else, even the person you are desperately in love with.

I feel so blessed that Hubs and I were together for over 9 years before we had Munch. That is a long time to focus solely on one another. Our relationship was solid by the time we caused the massive sea change that comes with bringing another life into being.

That being said, since Munch was born, we've only stolen away for a few hours at a time, even on special occasions like anniversaries. And I know it's important for us to take a solid chunk of time to focus on each other, reflect back on some of the best moments of our life together, and recharge. It will make us better parents, and a better couple.

Staying all night with his grandma and grandpa will also make Munch a stronger person. He's already so strong--staying at daycare all day takes strength. But coming to understand that Mommy and Daddy can go away sometimes and that he will be alright, and that we'll come back for him, is a critical lesson to learn. And it's better for him to learn it early. I want him to have fun and find staying with others overnight to be a grand adventure.

This is another lesson in trust for me--trusting myself to go away and enjoy being "me"; trusting myself to not fall into some common emotional and melodramatic pitfalls; trusting our family to take care of this most precious being; and trusting Munch to work through some separation anxiety and come out the better for it on the other end.

Wish me luck!

Munchkin Is 22 Months Old!

And only 2 months until he's 2!

All those 2s are appropriate--Munch has been practicing his "Terrible 2s" behavior! Lots of crying and screaming when he doesn't get his way. AND he's highly in tune to when Mommy and Daddy leave him. Distracting doesn't work so much right now. And he's getting three teeth at once, poor thing.

In honor of this month-birthday, here are 5 of my favorite things Munch does right now:

1) Sings. He has started singing the tune of some of his favorite songs. Some favorites: "yi-yi-oh" (Old MacDonald, e-i-e-i-o); parts of the ABCs; parts of Twinkle Twinkle; and, the highlight: the "la la la la la" part of Cobra Starship's "You Make Me Feel..."

2) Loves his friends--real and stuffed. He talks all the time about Co-Co, Arlee, and Jazzie from school, and he also loves to be surrounded by a growing band of stuffed animals. This stuffed love wins a special place in my heart because I was obsessed with stuffed animals as a kid and really, if I'm being honest, still am. His gang includes some old faves and new: Cow (pillow pal), Elfie, Monkey, Pooh, Puppy (from my grandma for Christmas), Dumbo (LOVES the huge ears and nose), Mouse (Steamboat Willie version of Mickey), Snoopy, and I'm trying to get him attached to Figment.

3) Asks to "ack": walk. He's just started this "ack" thing and pointing to the ground. Right now, he fakes you out that HE wants to walk when really he wants YOU to walk while carrying him. This is a short-lived transition step, I'm sure, and last Friday after Barnes & Noble, he walked holding my hand down the sidewalk almost all the way to the car.

4) Plays with my hair. Munch loves hair in general ("heee-ew"), but he especially loves to run his fingers through mine. He will lay drinking his bottle or going to sleep, fiddling with my hair. He sometimes likes when I have a "teee-ew" (tail--ponytail), but he most often will be like "No, no" until I let it fall to my shoulders.

5) Looks at pictures of the "baby." Which is of course himself. For many months, he's pointed out Daddy in pictures, then he included others, but now he's pointing to himself and saying "baby." I don't know if he realizes that the baby Mommy's holding in the picture is him (though I tell him so). But it's quite heart-warming either way.

On the End of Breastfeeding

I have not nursed my son for 4 days. He's 19 months and 3 weeks old. Before then, I nursed him at least once a day, every day, since practically the moment he was born.

Three weeks ago, I started contemplating weaning. I'd never expected to nurse Munch this long. When he was born, I had decided I would see how my body took to breastfeeding and not see myself as a failure if I needed to turn to formula. But, my body did what it needed to and Munch latched and we were off.

Three weeks ago, when I started feeling like it was time to wean, I was very sad about the prospect. This article about the last time our children do things kept echoing in my brain. With each short nursing session, I tried to enjoy every second, emblazon it on my brain. I felt a little panicked. And I felt a tiny bit heartbroken.

Nursing is something I have treasured. It has been a constant in these first months of motherhood. As my son now runs full tilt and identifies bananas and birds and stars, it is a last vesige of Munch's babyhood. First, he learned to hold his head up on his own. Then, he broke the swaddle. He graduated from the Pack n Play in our room to his own crib. Solids became the primary food source. The sleepsack was packed away. And soon nursing would be gone as well.

So, I reasoned, maybe I wasn't quite ready in my heart, even though I was in my head. I support every mother's choice to breastfeed for however long is right for her. But nursing started evolving for me when my son became very communicative. He's a bit of a late talker, so it wasn't until about 15 months that he started really interacting. With him at 19 months, I felt strange being able to hold a relatively meaningful and lengthy conversation with him and then stick my boob in his mouth.

Also, the teeth. He no longer bit me while nursing for 2 minutes--he grew out of that. But at the end of a nursing session, he clamped down and scraped backwards. This was not good. And last Saturday, he took some skin off the nipple. Really not good. And it was in that moment, I think I felt my heart say good-bye to breastfeeding.

So, I said to myself, I'll only nurse him if he asks for it. (Munch asking is him holding the Boppy or any random pillow out to me, giving me a pleading look, and saying, uh uh uh.) We nursed for a rather long session (i.e., about 7 minutes) overnight on Sunday, when I believe he was having teething pain and difficulty sleeping.

And that's been it. That night likely will be the last time I nurse this child, whom I've cuddled to my chest for God knows how many hours since his birth. It was a nice ending--quiet, dark, with the TV flickering, like it was in the early weeks, when I became very familiar with Willie Geist on "Way Too Early" and SportsCenter, when only paid programming was on every other channel.

We ended nursing the way we began, Munch and I--alone as my husband slept, half-asleep, comforted.

"No"

My Munch is in such a language phase right now. He makes elaborate babble sentences with the most inquisitive look on his face as he looks straight at you. He's quite clearly explaining himself. He's saying many new words this week, including: Daddy (without the middle Ds, but definitely with two syllables), bubbles, bottle. He loves his B words.

Yesterday, I had to change his pants, and we were just rolling around on my bed playing and I said, "Okay, let me put on your shorts" just as a matter of course, as I usually do. He sat up and said, "No." Clear as a bell. I said, "You don't want me to put on your shorts?" He said, "No." Then I laughed so raucously that he tumbled all over me, giggling.

Probably not good that I taught him the word No delights me. But while he's been shaking his head No for a while now, this was the first verbal, purposeful No I've gotten. And I'm sure it won't be the last.

And, as time goes on, I'm sure it won't create quite as much delight in me!

Pumpkin Patch Pictures

This morning, we had Munch's 18 (well, 19) month pictures done at an apple orchard near our house. My very dear friend is a wonder photographer, and she's done his 12month pics and 6 (well, 7) month pics. The latter were done at this apple orchard as well, so we headed back there one year later.

Our 2012 family of pumpkins

I was a bit concerned at first because Munch didn't seem to be having any of it. He pointed to the piles of pumpkins and said "Ball, ball" over and over, but wouldn't get near/interact with said pumpkins. And, he was all about mommy, which doesn't make for good toddler shots either.

Luckily, they had an old green John Deere tractor out and Munch happily sat on the seat and turned the wheel. I can't wait for my grandfather to see these. And we cajoled some smiles out of him with falling leaves, but he still wouldn't explore much on his own.

We'd pretty much given up and said we'd done all we can (and I'm positive my wonder photographer will mine these shots for gems as always) and went back to the patch to pick out our family pumpkins.

Turns out, another friend and her family were there and so we chatted and suddenly Munch was all about exploring the pumpkins! So, when set off on his own, with no expectations, Munch did what we'd wanted him to do all along.

I truly think he knew what we wanted him to do the whole time, so he did the opposite. When the camera was in front of him, he turned his back. When I showed him pumpkins, he pushed them away disdainfully. As always, Munch does things on his own terms or not at all.

I can't wait to see the pictures. I plan to order a three panel canvas from the three stages of pics we have. It's amazing how he's changed over the past year.

18-Month Well Baby

Last night, Munch had his 18-month well baby visit--yes, my pediatrician has evening hours on Wednesdays. Love her!

Here are the stats:

Weight: 23.9 pounds, putting him nearer the 25th percentile than the 10th--yay!
Height: 32.75 inches--my tall boy!

He got two shots--pneumococcal and hep A--that he endured bravely and got two tiger-stripe Band-Aids for his trouble.

The only downside was he couldn't get the flu shot at the same time as the pneumococcal--so we go back in November, and Hubs and I will be able to get them from Dr. H as well.

Our appointment was at 7, but we didn't end up seeing her until closer to 7:30. Munch walked happily around the exam room, eating some banana and fish, exploring until about 7:20. Then he was done. It was incredibly hot in there, and he got pretty tired in a snap. So, he cried for most of the appointment, unfortunately.

Dr. H says all looks good--his ears look normal, now that they're tubeless, so fingers crossed for a good fall/winter for ears.

We talked to her about what we see as his slightly lagging speech development. She's not concerned, as he's definitely verbalizing, he says his version of a few words (ca, do, bbbb--I'll let you figure out what each of those are) and he obviously understands what we're saying. (I believe this child understands exactly everything. I say, want to take off your shoes? Touches them immediately. Want milk? Goes to the refrigerator. He knows.)

So, as with his walking, he's taking his own sweet time, practicing his long, babbly sentences, and one day, I'm sure, he'll look at me and say, "Mother, please turn on Disney Junior."

Okay, maybe, "Mama, up." I'd be satisfied.

Happy Half Birthday!

I have the Alice in Wonderland "A Very Merry Un-birthday" song in my head, but that's not exactly it. Munch turned 18 months old today! How the time has flown.

And, his present to me was:

During his breakfast, I brought out his customary banana. He pointed at it and said with a knowing smile,
" 'nana!"

And my heart exploded!

Prove It!

So, my 18-month-old can identify body parts. My MIL says that some 3-year-olds can't even do that. How smart little Munch is!

He's known "nose" for a while. I worked very hard on this one in the bathtub--he has a little boat with a big red nose and I pointed over and over saying "nose nose nose" then pointed to Munch's nose. Now, Munch points to it himself and almost says it--at least, "No" while he points.

He's known "belly" for even longer, thanks to Lisa, who taught him to slap his Pooh Bear's belly. He now does it to Monkey, himself, and Daddy if prompted.

Lately, he's been very into eyes. We were looking at a book and came upon the letter I and I said, "I!" Munch immediately pointed to his eye. It's amazing to me that he knows these things already.

So last night Munch was in the bath and I said to Hubs how impressed I am that Munch knows his body parts. "You need to be able to do that when you enter kindergarten!" I know that because the one body part I missed in my kindergarten entrance exam was "jaw." (It speaks to my history of academic perfectionism that I'm not even forgiving with that less-than-100% effort.)

Hubs said, skeptically, "He knows nose and hair, but not much else." Me: "He knows mouth and ear too." Hubs: "He knows his mouth?"

I looked at Munch, sitting in his suds, and said, "Where's your mouth?" And held my breath. I've never "tested" him in such a way, in a "prove it" way.

And boy that kid came through--he immediately opened his mouth wide, stuck his tongue out, and pointed. Triumph! It was so cute, and I got the, "boy what a smart kid we have" feeling.

Reflecting on this, I feel myriad jumbled feelings.

1) George Carlin has a bit where he talks about how excited we parents get when our kids POOP! I'm sure he would lump knowing where one's mouth is and being able to point to it on cue as not placing one in the "genius" category. However, George Carlin never saw a kid as cute as MINE, I'm sure.

2) No, there is a wonder in watching what started as a microscopic cell learn the art of, well, living. I understand that billions of kids before mine have rolled over and smiled and eaten a puff and clicked their tongues and stood on their own. But MY kid has a first time for these things. And though you know these milestones are coming and though the novelty wears off and soon they're just walking like most other bipedal creatures, there is something so joyful in watching them learn to do it. The excitement of those first few steps Munch took, for us and for him, are quite nearly unmatched. When he was first walking on his own for about 10 steps, it struck me as so odd to get excited about so commonplace a thing as walking. But it was wondrous.

3) I've said before that I don't want Munch to be the top of his class. I know that sounds so weird from a mother's mouth. But what I wish for him is average. For so long in my family, "average" in school or work equates to "mediocre." What I mean is, I don't want him to feel that he's a complete failure if he tries his best and gets a B. I don't want him to feel like he has to be the BEST at everything. I want him to enjoy life, and find what he is naturally BEST at, whether that's music or tennis or math or science. I don't want him to be a slacker; and I hope he doesn't struggle in school. I want him to be a solid B student. That may be weird, but that's how I feel.

However, was my innocuous question, "Where's your mouth?" the shot across the bow for the "show me how smart you are" trap we parents all somehow seem to fall into? If Munch had simply stared at me or leaned forward and put his face in the water or eaten more bubbles instead of triumphantly finding his mouth, what would that have felt like? Would I have been disappointed that he wasn't further along, that he couldn't "prove" to his father his anatomical knowledge? Did I get too much satisfaction from him knowing the right answer?

I hope not. I hope I felt pure joy that my little man learned another new thing. Because the joy is in the learning. And, as toddlers are wont to do, maybe he's forgotten where is mouth is by now. But the joy, the triumph, I think I take in his body part identification is the progress. He's growing! He's understanding that everything has a name. And he's learning to name it.

Molar!

My little Munchkin has his first molar! I'm so happy and sad for him. Last night, as he was wailing in wait for his medicine, I saw the bony, gummy bumps on his top left side, quite near the front. The edges are broken through, but the center is still working on it.

This may be my answer for why he was writhing so terribly on Tuesday night. I can't imagine how painful this is for him. I froze some washcloths to give him tonight. I feel so bad for the little man!

Baptism Birthday

My sister, Munchkin's godmother, reminded me that today is the 1-year anniversary of Munch's baptism. The story:

He was baptized in our Lutheran church on the first Sunday of August 2011. It was HOT, humid (funny, just like now), and we had a large picnic planned at a nearby state park pavillion. Many people came. Lots of family at the service as well: Us, my parents, Patty, Jennifer (godmother), Tina, Lisa, Ben, MIL, SFIL, Nate (godfather), Remy, and my grandparents. Ben filmed the baptism, but I don't think he got much of it, and we've never watched the video.

Our regular pastor was unfortunately on vacation, but a former bishop did the honors. Munch fell asleep for the service before the ceremony and didn't cry during the water portion. Funnily, the church was set up for vacation Bible school, and so all of our pictures have huge pandas in the background.

Munch wore the cutest little white suit with shorts, a vest, tie, and a hat like a train conductor. He was almost 5 months old.

At the picnic, we had lovely salads, burgers and hotdogs that my dad and Ben grilled, and cupcakes from Lily McGilly's that had ugly fondant block letter Fs on them. I had pictured something pretty and festive, but they still tasted good.

Lots of friends and family came to the picnic despite the heat: Lara, Laura, (with Margaret in tow) Linda, D, Rob, Elizabeth, Ruby, Adam, Jamie, Ed, and Justin. They brought gifts though we said not to. Many of them made me cry with their "little boys are" sentiments!

Munch was shuttled around so everyone got a little cuddle, then I nursed him in the air conditioned car and he fell asleep, flat on his back in his stroller for the second half of the party.

We got cleaned up just as the rain came pouring down! All in all, a successful day.