Jock Mom

Good Manners

2012-01-22T06:26:00.000-08:00

If TLB wants something, he must ask for it properly. "May I have _____?" He doesn't always remember. Sometimes it begins as "I want _____," but he gets nothing from us until it becomes a request with "please" on it.

This morning, TLB wanted Daddy to go to the play room with him, but Daddy was still eating breakfast.

"Come on, Daddy!" TLB insisted.

Daddy calmly explained that he would happily go to the play room with TLB as soon as he was finished with his breakfast.

Misinterpreting the delay, TLB changed his approach: "May I have 'Come on,' please?"

Blogging on the Go

2011-09-15T12:07:00.001-07:00

Nothing really to say here, except that I can now blog from my phone. Which pretty much makes my blog like Facebook, except I can't play "Who Wants to be a Millionaire" on my blog.

- Posted using BlogPress from my iPhone

How I Spent My Summer Vacation (Part 3)

2011-09-09T11:04:00.000-07:00

It had been my intention to enroll TLB in swimming lessons last summer, but tubes got in the way. This summer, after a clean bill of health from TLB's ENT, I started shopping for swim instructors. By "shopping" I really mean soliciting my Facebook friends for advice.

What my son didn't need was a "Mommy & Me" water class. He was already comfortable in the water. That was part of the problem. He had absolutely no fear. I ruled out the Y's toddler swim class, and other similar courses around town.

Ultimately, I decided on Waterlilly Swim School, which teaches Infant Swim Self Rescue. As soon as I heard about this, I knew this was the program I wanted. Unfortunately, as it was already well into June by the time we were able to start lessons, there was a considerable wait to get into classes. In the meanwhile, we enrolled in another swim class just to pass time, and at the end of the class the instructor informed me that that was pretty much all she'd be able to do with him until he was older. I knew better, but I let it go. TLB had had fun for a couple weeks.

Finally, I got email notification that TLB would be able to begin his ISR classes. It wasn't at the time I'd initially wanted, but I was able to make it work.

The first class was a briefing of what was to be expected, and a short time in the pool with the instructor to get TLB acclimated to the pool and the environment. Ms. Gretchen informed me that sometimes the children get upset during their training, and that the best thing I could do was be positive and encouraging. I assured her that I'm not the sort of mom who freaks out when her kid cries, and that I wouldn't interfere with the lessons.

Throughout the first week of lessons, Ms. Gretchen assured me that TLB was doing really well, but I was convinced he could do better -- or at least do what he was doing without all the typical two year old whining, crying and complaining about stuff he doesn't want to do. Don't get me wrong, TLB loved to swim. He just didn't want to float. And in ISR, floating is kind of key.

So I resorted to bribery. My son will do pretty much anything for a lollipop (poop on the potty, for example), so I informed him that if he did everything Ms. Gretchen asked him to do without crying, he could have a lollipop. We made lots of progress that lesson.

For a long while, I had underestimated my son's ability to understand because of his limited vocabulary -- in my mind, only the stuff that came out was the stuff that went in, kind like that old Far Side comic about what we say to dogs and what they hear. I have since come to realize that my son is not a dog (you'd think the banana episode would have tipped me off), and that he understands much more than he's able to say. So I began coaching him. It began with little pep-talks on the drive to swim school, but it gradually began to work its way into my "encouragement" during his lessons -- to the point that the mom of the child who followed TLB's lesson remarked, "Look how smart he is. He's actually listening to you."

I don't know whether is was Ms. Gretchen's excellent instruction, my mad coaching skillz, or that my kid may be "Son of Poseidon" (according to Uncle Roland), but by the end of TLB's second week of lessons, Ms. Gretchen was convinced he was going to set a record for completing the course. I don't know whether he actually did or not. I do know that, according to the website, the average child takes about 35 lessons to complete it, and TLB did it in 16 (plus two days of testing and resetting).

Here is a link to a video Ms. Gretchen made of TLB's last few days of swim lessons (including one picture of a kid who isn't TLB). I tried to embed it, but for some reason it only wanted to embed half the frame. Yes, he's swimming in his underwear for much of it, as his "reset" lesson was done at the spur of the moment after his winter clothes test and I hadn't brought his trunks.

http://www.onetruemedia.com/shared?p=f13d78f3aae28203149c3b&skin_id=1603&utm_source=otm&utm_medium=text_url

How I Spent My Summer Vacation (Part 2)

2011-08-01T10:24:00.000-07:00

Shortly before my summer break started, my husband and I purchased annual passes for Walt Disney World. Their monthly payment program made it possible for us financially, and as we live only a couple hours away from the Happiest Place on Earth, we are likely to visit frequently.

TLB visited all four Disney parks this summer. Although he had been to Walt Disney World at 6 months old, he was really more like a piece of baggage than a visitor at that point. I don't mean "baggage" in the negative, relationship issue sort of way. It's just that we carried him around, but the trip wasn't really for him.

This time, it was all about him. It was the first time he could really take in the experience and enjoy it. In a way, it was a first time for me, too. I've been to Walt Disney World literally hundreds of times, but this was my first real time experiencing it with my child. The whole experience was different than any Disney experience I remember.

With a toddler, you do different things.

You stand in line for character visits.

You watch the parades, instead of using parade times to take advantage of slightly shorter ride lines.

You ride Dumbo and the Carousel instead of roller coasters.

You stay two nights in a hotel instead of making it a day trip, so your kid can spend midday napping in a dark, air-conditioned room.

And you somehow manage to have the most magical time of your life.

Our trip to the Magic Kingdom was my favorite, because we experienced so much that was new. We ate breakfast at the Cape May Cafe at the Yacht and Beach Club Resorts and were visited by Goofy, Minnie and Donald. We stood in line at the park to visit Daisy, Pluto, Mickey and Minnie. We danced at the "Move It! Shake It! Dance Party" on Main Street and again at Chip, Dale and Stitch's dance party in Tomorrowland. We let TLB stay up past his bedtime to see the Main Street Electrical Parade, but left before the fireworks.

It was our first Disney trip in over a decade that we didn't spend an evening at EPCOT to see IllumiNations: Reflections of Earth. This is tradition for our family, as my dad was the manager of the production team that built the barge that carries the Earth globe. We did see the show when we visited over Memorial Day weekend, but TLB was terrified by it (to be fair, it does start off rather loud, fiery and violent). So we gave it a miss this time -- we'll pick up the tradition when he's a little older.

How I Spent My Summer Vacation (Part 1)

2011-07-25T14:43:00.000-07:00

Right around the time my son turned 2 in April, the manager of his day care asked me what I wanted to do about potty training. There were a couple of little girls in his class about the same age whose mothers were interested in getting them started. She advised that I buy some Pull-Ups so they could start TLB on the system of being set on the classroom potty at regular intervals.

Nobody who has read my previous posts should be surprised that I've done some reading on potty training. My parents tease me frequently about my "information overload" approach to parenting. Yet when I called my mother to ask her opinion on the potty thing, she asked me, quite seriously, "Well, what have you read about that?" What I'd read was that boys generally potty train a little later than girls (average age of 39 months, according to Toddler 411, which I highly recommend to ANY new parent), that potty training was a matter of the child wanting to be clean, and that when a child was ready, it could be done in a day. I'd also read that Pull-Ups weren't particularly conducive to potty training, as they didn't let the child feel when he was wet.

Based on this information, I decided not to start potty training during the school year. I didn't want to start a prolonged process that might be frustrating to my kid who may or may not be ready. When he was ready, he'd be able to tell me or whatever caregive he was with when he needed to go, instead of being reminded on a schedule.

I would be home with him in June, so that seemed an ideal time to give the potty thing a go. We could spend as much time as necessary focusing on the task at hand, and I could do things my own way. I was totally prepared for him to not be ready, in which case I'd just put potty training back on the shelf for a later date.

We started on a Friday morning. I announced to him that starting right then, he would be wearing underpants like a big boy. I had Toy Story and Yo Gabba Gabba briefs ready, and he got to pick which ones he wanted to wear. He picked the ones with Woody. He was very excited to be wearing Big Boy Pants.

"I got Woody!" he cried, pointing to his briefs.

This could be a problem, I thought, but let it go.

I brought the potty out into the living room, told him that when he needed to pee-pee he should tell me and I'd help him go on the potty, and we settled in for a morning of Fresh Beat Band and Winnie the Pooh.

Within the hour, TLB suddenly made the crotch-grabbing proclamation that he was wet. One pair of undies down. Deciding that "big boy undies" on Day 1 might end up being rather laundry intensive, I stripped him naked, put the potty next to my recliner, and reminded him that if he needed to pee-pee, he needed to come sit.

A couple hours went by. Nothing. Then shortly before naptime, he ran to me and sat. And he peed. In the potty. Just like that.

There was much rejoicing.

During naptime, he wore special "naptime undies" (aka Pull-Ups, because sleep-time is a totally different animal that we'll tackle later), but when he woke up it was back down to nothing. By the end of the night we'd had two more successful pees, both announced by him. He had one accident as well, but I figured we'd come out ahead.

The next day, we launched into the same routine -- buck naked in the living room, potty at the ready for whenever he needed to go. There were no accidents that day, and all potty times were decided by him. It was a great day.

And that was pretty much it. Just like the book said, TLB was potty trained in a day -- on #1, anyway, which was to be expected. Poop was, and still is, a different matter. But for the most part, TLB saves it for his "special naptime undies," so it doesn't interfere with anything. Day care, dance lessons, swim lessons, Walt Disney World -- TLB takes them on like a big boy, complete with big boy pants.

And Mommy and Daddy are saving a ton of money, now that they no longer have to buy diapers.

Mommy Wanderings (or: Holy Crap! This Kid's Almost Two!)

2011-04-09T04:13:00.000-07:00

I’m trying to figure out just where in the world the last year went. Last April when TLB had his first birthday, we had a small, understated celebration -- TLB, my husband and I went to dinner with my parents, TLB’s Godparents, and Uncle Roland. He was still a baby then. He barely walked, talked even less, and didn’t like the icing on his cake. It was a fun celebration, but it was hardly momentous.

Now, inexplicably, TLB is about to turn TWO. All of a sudden, it seems, I have a little boy living in my house. Not only does he walk and talk and eat cake, he jumps, dances, sings, plays drums, slides down slides and rides horses. He names colors and shapes, and counts to ten in English, Spanish and Korean (French is a work in progress). He eats with utensils, colors with crayons, throws and kicks balls, says “please” and “thank you,” and insists on doing so many things himself. Where did this kid come from?

He had his two year check-up the other day, and the nurse bombarded me with questions about his development. Can he climb stairs? Can he jump? Can he stack blocks? Can he speak fifty words? My first thought was, “Should I be counting words?” My second was, “Well, I imagine so. Thirty of them are numbers.” Then, “The kid says ‘trombone,’ ‘dinosaur,’ ‘tortoise’ and ‘avocado.’ I really think he’s doing okay, vocabulary-wise.” What I SAID was, “Yes.” I saved my bragging for this blog.

Of course, TLB’s rapidly approaching two-ness isn’t ALL manners and singing and dancing. He can go from “Wow, if I’d known it would be this awesome I would have had kids years ago” to “Oh, so this is why people shake babies” in a matter of seconds. Don’t want to wear those pants (“WANNA PANTS!”). Those raisins don’t have yogurt on them (“NO! WHITE RAISINS!”). I want to put my pajamas on myself (“MY DO IT!”). Any of those scenarios can melt down into an episode of body-flinging, arm-swinging, incoherent screaming. I do my best to keep my cool and get through it in a gentle, reasonable manner. I don’t always succeed, but I feel like I deserve an A for effort. Or maybe an A minus. A solid B plus at the least.

Still, those episodes are few and far between. They happen, sure, but I understand why they happen. Really, the “Terrible Twos” aren’t so terrible. They’re just occasionally frustrating.

Sometimes, I feel worse about my behavior than his – those times when I start talking through clenched teeth and muttering words that aren’t in my everyday Teacher Vocabulary. I get angry, when I know it’s not really his fault. After all, he’s not old enough to know better, but I am.

There are moments, and lots of them, when I wonder if I’m doing things right. After all, I’ve never really been around toddlers. I have no frame of reference. I don’t know what’s normal and what’s bratty. I’m just kind of fumbling through motherhood and hoping for the best. Parenting is hard!

And I wouldn’t trade it for anything. This kid – this dancing, singing, dinosaur-loving little boy – really, really is a gift. I’m not sure what I did to deserve such an awesome gift, but I thank God every day for him.

A Picture is Worth 1,000 Words

2010-10-08T17:27:00.000-07:00

TLB wanted something. He pointed to the kitchen counter from his highchair. "Nana," he said.

He wants a banana, Daddy assumed, and gave him one. Evidently it was adequate, because TLB ate it happily.

TLB pointed to the counter again. "Deh," he said. (Mommy knows that "Deh," and not "Nana," is the word for "Banana." At the time, Daddy did not.)

Daddy picked up a plastic tub of orange slices, and was met with a disgruntled whine. Wrong. He picked up a sippy cup. Wrong again. "Deh!" TLB insisted, still pointing.

It was time for a different approach. "Book," TLB said. There was, in fact, a book on the counter. Daddy handed it to him, and TLB seemed satisfied.

Daddy is a little slow this morning. Maybe an illustration would help.

TLB flipped through the book, found a picture of a banana, and pointed to it. "Deh," he said firmly.

BANANA.

Adventures

2010-09-06T19:28:00.000-07:00

I'd forgotten how much I love being outdoors. I'd let myself get out of shape, and out of the habit. "It's too hot. I'll get a headache. Best wait until the weather is cooler."

But you know what? It's really not that hot. In fact, today was a gorgeous day for adventure in Palatka, Florida, of all places.

The Ravine Gardens State Park is a gem hidden in Palatka. Until a couple weeks ago, I'd had no idea it was there. I just happened to stumble upon it while searching for something online. Today, it became the first of hopefully many new adventures for my family and me.

Building Character (Theirs and Mine)

2010-08-25T16:16:00.000-07:00

Today, the Amazon Kindle store recommended to me a book called The Leader in Me: How Schools and Parents Around the World Are Inspiring Greatness, One Child at a Time by by Steven R. Covey. Always game to read something that will help me become a better teacher and a better parent, I bought it.

I have complained for so long that the problem with our educational system is not educational at all, but societal, that it has become habit. I still believe it, of course -- too many of America's children are raised with no boundaries and no responsibilities, so that this generation of school children has more than its fair share of coddled, enabled brats. But I've come to rely on this mantra a bit too heavily. I spout it without even thinking whenever someone mentions longer school days (or school years) or performance-based salaries for teachers.

Reading even just the first few pages of this book has made me remember something very important: Why I became a teacher. Being an athlete had made me a role model for others whether I wanted to be or not. As it turned out, I liked it, and I decided that I really wanted a career that served others. I wanted to be a hero, in my own way. I was in the process of sorting out how to become a firefighter when a teaching position fell into my lap. I loved it from the start.

I realize that I may be the only positive influence in a child's life. There have been times when this has made me feel a little bitter. Why should I have to be the one who teaches this kid right from wrong? Who encourages the kid to do his work and give his best effort? How can I be expected to do that without any support from his home?

What I need to remember is that, while this is a responsibility, to be certain, it is also an opportunity. Every child is capable of good character. Every child is capable of his best effort. Every child is capable of leadership in some way. And it is my privilege to help them realize that.

It's easy to blinded by behavior issues, unsupportive parents, and academic apathy, but I see the start of this school year as a gift. It's my chance to be a hero.

Social Ineptitude

2010-07-24T04:57:00.000-07:00

My 20-year high school reunion is tonight. I'm not going.

I have this strange sort of ambivalence toward the reunion. It would be cool to see everybody, sure, but not $98 worth of cool. I went to my 10-year reunion, and left early feeling sort of awkward. It was like high school all over again -- all that stuff I didn't like about high school.

A few days ago, a high school friend with whom I've recently reunited sent me a message on Facebook to tell me that there would be a pre-reunion get-together at Whitey's Fish Camp on Friday night and that I should meet her there. Sounded fairly painless, so I went.

Whitey's is a pretty popular place by Clay County standards, and on Friday nights it's especially hoppin'. After being herded to a tiny parking space by a reflective-vest-clad attendant, I went into the packed restaurant in the hopes of recognizing people I haven't seen in 10 or 20 years. I spotted a couple possibilities (including someone who claimed he wasn't who I thought he was -- thanks, Robert, that made things SO much less awkward!), but no Christy, so I went back outside on the bench to wait.

Desperate phone call placed, Christy assured me she was on her way, and that I should go back inside and find a few other people who I'd apparently missed at the bar. I went back inside for a drink with a couple people I'd known reasonably well in high school, and let my social brilliance shine through: "Oh, hi, Mary! I almost failed Zoology because I didn't have the cojones to argue with the teacher that the reason I was looking toward your paper was not that I was copying your answers but because you were left-handed and we kept bumping elbows as we wrote. Good to see you!" Not something smoother like, "Mary! You know, I was thinking about you the other day while I was running down River Road and trying to remember which dock we fished from that time to collect specimens for the zoology class fishtank. Remember that? Oh, zany high school fun that I was actually a part of..."

Drinks in the air-conditioned bar moved to drinks on the sweltering outdoor patio, where it was virtually impossible to walk or even turn around without tackling someone into a table. I packed myself into a corner with a couple of other people I knew, clinging to them like a lifeline. A few more old friends came and went, people I'd been genuinely excited to see.

An inebriated classmate who had been in a much higher popularity echelon than I had been swore I looked familiar to her, and chatted with me for a while about how precious children are. Somehow I ended up at an outside table with a couple people, but when they decided to leave for a bit, I went back in and found myself lost, unable to locate any of the people I felt most comfortable with.

I'm a pretty shy person. I'm not the kind of person who throws parties or invites people to the house or out to dinner. I try not to impose myself needlessly on anyone else. I remember every stupid thing I've ever done or said, and I always assume everyone else does, too. I tend to take things personally. The smallest, unintentional slight can scare me away. I'm not good at showing people or telling people how I feel about them. (I can remember my husband saying once about a student of mine, "I don't think that boy will ever know how much you love him." He was probably right.) I downright suck at mingling.

So I left. I'm not too bummed about it. Big reunions just aren't who I am, and I'm cool with that. I'm going to set a goal, though, of getting together with one old friend a month -- or at least asking. Small groups. Baby steps.

Big Kid

2010-07-19T15:22:00.000-07:00

TLB returned to day care today after being out for six weeks or so. He cried when I dropped him off and the staff of the day care hastened to shoo me away like one of those coddling helicopter moms, which I most assuredly am not. I get that he'll be fine once I'm gone, day care, but could I please have a goodbye kiss before I go? NO, GIMME YOUR KID, BYE NOW.

Anyway, things went fine, of course. I was informed as soon as I walked in the door that Alex had been very excited to see his old infant room teacher, Ms. Novie, who now works in the 1-year-old room in the afternoon.

My son is in the 1-year-old room. He plays with other toddlers, learns letters and colors, eats at the table, and sleeps on a nap mat on the floor. MY BABY.

All at once I'm both like, "No! He's still a baby!" and "Hellz yeah! Potty training next, please, and how about eating with utensils and some organized sports."

He's growing up, and really, I'm totally cool with that because the older he gets, the more fun he gets. He runs and climbs and talks and explores and absorbs things like a jumbo sponge. He's just so much awesome.

It's just that it reminds me that he's over a year old, which means I'm more than a year older than I was when he was born, which means I am quite solidly on my way to that point when I'll be 55 and he'll be graduating high school and people will think I'm his grandmother.

But for now I just have to worry about buying a blanket for his nap mat.

Prince of Naps

2010-06-23T06:48:00.000-07:00

A year ago, I was fretting and reading and trying everything to get TLB to nap during the day. He's been a good nighttime sleeper from Day One, but until late July last year his napping left something to be desired.

Just when I'd gotten him on a decent nap schedule (after some sleep training for him and behavior modification for me), he started day care, which threw everything all out of whack again -- a different environment with different distractions. TLB adjusted, though. He's a trooper.

Toward the end of the school year, TLB was only taking one nap at day care. I was afraid this would stick, even though I was pretty sure he could use a morning and afternoon nap. Around the start of summer vacation he was teething like crazy, too, which didn't help at all. It disrupted his naps and night-time sleep as well. I thought I was in trouble.

I was wrong.

My son has become a napping machine. No matter what I have planned during the day, he'll be ready for naps at 9:30 am and 2 pm. No fighting, no fuss, no preparations necessary. He'll climb into my arms, put his head on my shoulder and stick his thumb in his mouth. "Put me in my bed and take a break, Mommy," he says -- or he would, anyway, if his vocabulary consisted of anything more than "Mama," "Dada," and "ball." He sleeps 1.5 to 2 hours per nap, which gives me plenty of time to pick up around the house (yeah, right!), check Facebook and watch World Cup Soccer. God bless my son for letting me watch the World Cup.

48 Hour Film Project

2010-06-23T05:35:00.001-07:00

When TLB is napping, I pretty much live on Facebook. Yes, I know there are chores to be done, but I totally need to see what all my friends are up to RIGHT NOW, because I am absolutely incapable of picking up a phone and actually being in touch with people and having real, functioning relationships.

Anyway, over the weekend I received two separate invitations to one of the Jacksonville screenings of the 48 Hour Film Project. One was from a kid who was in my 8th grade technology class my first year teaching. The other was from a guy I know through the local community theater. To make a long story short, I had no plans that night, my husband would be working late, and my dad was available to watch TLB, so I figured I'd go.

(Notes to self:

1) Next time, don't buy tickets online. It's not like it's going to sell out, so it's not worth buying in advance and paying double your ticket price in online fees.

2) Next time, bring a friend. It would be more interesting having someone to talk to before the screening and at intermission, and it would be a lot safer having someone to walk back to the parking garage with at 10 pm. )

The 48 Hour Film Project itself is a really cool idea. At the kick-off event, which is held on a Friday night at 7 pm, each team is assigned a genre, and all teams are given a list of components that must be included in the film (this year they were: a character named Tony or Tina Daubert, who is a wine connoisseur; a line of dialogue - "I love a good challenge"; and use of a lamp as a prop). The teams then have 48 hours to complete their films (the only work that can be done in advance is essentially assembling the team and procuring the equipment), which they must turn in by 7:30 pm on Sunday.

So yeah, in theory, this is a really cool idea. But remember those video projects people did in high school? You'll be seeing a lot of this all over again. Some of the films weren't that bad. Some were actually edited well. In some of them, the sound didn't completely suck. Some even had legitimate actors. But for the most part, when a film would start, 30 seconds in I'd be waiting for it to turn into porn.

DISCLAIMER: I am, by no means, an authority on porn, but come on. Admit it. You know exactly what I'm talking about. The bad sound. The thin plot. The horrible acting. All some of these films needed were a bed and the "Lay That Pipe" soundtrack music.

As people entered the Florida Theater, they were given ballots to select the "audience favorite" film. Everybody was require to vote for THREE films -- so people could vote for their own films and then two others that they actually liked. At first, I started to automatically check off the two films I'd actually been invited there to view, but then the critic in me convinced me to actually watch the films and select my REAL favorites.

One of the films I chose was a musical. Anybody who knows me is thinking right now "Well, DUH!" but seriously. They had to make a MUSICAL. With music and lyrics and stuff. And it wasn't painful at all, fairly clever and somewhat compelling.

Another film I chose was a comedy. Oh, many of the films were comedic in one way or another (whether or not they were intended to be), but this one was actually in the comedy genre and I enjoyed it. Admittedly, I think "comedy" is probably one of the easiest genres to do, but the director chose a format really suited to the actors and it played out well. The only line that really sounded scripted was the obligatory "I love a good challenge."

The third film I chose WAS actually one of the ones I was invited to see, but I'm not going to say which one. It doesn't really matter, because I left in such a hurry so I could beat the traffic out of the parking garage (ha ha, joke's on me!) that I forgot to turn in my ballot. Sorry guys.

Vacation Observations

2010-06-15T12:12:00.000-07:00

1. Until I become a mindreader, I will have to just accept the fact that sometimes toddlers just fuss.

2. It is better to sit in front of or behind people who look like grandparents on the plane and bus. Grandparents are far more accepting of my toddler's behavior than younger businessmen.

3. One sippy cup is not enough.

4. A well-rested toddler is happier travelling companion than a tired one. Don't expect him to sleep on the plane. He won't.

5. Hotel suite with 2 bedrooms, a living area and a kitchen is the best idea ever. Hotel that offers free hot breakfast in the lobby is the second best idea ever.

6. Hide-and-seek is just as fun in a hotel suite as it is at home.

7. So is bathtime.

8. If there are steps, he will attempt to climb them.

9. If there is a dance floor, he will be on it, even if he doesn't know how to dance.

10. A toddler will not enjoy touring lighthouses as much as I will (neither will my husband, for that matter, but he'll at least humor me), but he'll sure look cute in the pictures.

Tubes

2010-06-09T16:01:00.000-07:00

So after pretty much near-constant ear infections since November, TLB had ear tube surgery this morning. In some ways, it was a very simple procedure. In other ways, it was quite an ordeal.

Our scheduled surgery time was 9:50 am -- which was horrifying to me when the surgery center called me and told me that, because I knew that TLB would not have eaten since his bedtime the night before, and was therefore likely to be cranky shortly after waking up. We had to be at the surgery center to check in by 7:45 am, which meant more than two hours of wait time once we got there.

I had read that they scheduled the surgeries by age, so I was shocked that they were starting so late, since I was sure that TLB, at his age, would surely be first. We checked in at the front desk and where led to the children's waiting room, where three other boys -- all younger than mine -- were crawling around playing with the toys. Another mystery solved.

In short order we were taken to our room, where we met the anesthesiologist, the surgeon, and were given TLB's spiffy hospital gown. Baby hospital gowns? Hilarous.

There were plenty of toys and lots going on to distract TLB from his hunger... for a little while. At one point, one of the other toddlers beaned TLB in the head and knocked him flat on his Pamper. I maintain that it's funny when someone gets hit in the head with a ball. Even when it's my kid.

We made it until nearly 9 am, at which point there was a meltdown from which no amount of rocking, carrying or cajoling could save me.

Eventually (mercifully) the surgeon found us in the hallway and told us we were next. At 9:54 am, TLB was taken from my arms by a nurse and back to the OR. At 10:18 am, the surgeon came in to tell me how things had gone. Minutes later, TLB was back in my arms, heartily chugging a sippy cup full of apple juice (his second since waking up). The nurse warned me that he might be grumpy, and that he would need a long nap to sleep off the effects of the anesthesia. She was wrong about the grumpiness -- he ate a banana and chatted happily the rest of the way home. She was right about the nap, though -- THREE AND A HALF HOURS.

He earned that nap. So did I.

Cheesy Tots!

2010-06-07T15:12:00.000-07:00

I'm sure it was just God's way of telling me to lay off the fried, cheesy foods, but boy oh boy, there are few things that irk me more than a snarky teen who's sure she's right when she isn't.

BK Chickie: Welcome to Burger King. Can I take your order?

Me: I'd like a 12-piece cheesy tots, and...

BK Chickie: Uh, yeah. Cheesy tots have been discontinued... for, like, a long time, now.

Me: Oh. Okay. They're on your board. So I guess I'll have...

BK Chickie: No. We have funnel cakes up there now.

Me: Um. Alright. But you have cheesy tots on your board, too.

BK Chickie: I'll have my manager check that.

Me: Cool. So, I guess I'll have a cheeseburger and a bottled water.

BK Chickie: We don't have bottled water right now.

Me: Oh. Okay. I guess I'll have... an orange Fanta and a cheeseburger.

BK Chickie: An orange juice and...

Me: No, no, a Fanta orange soda.

BK Chickie: We have Fanta Strawberry.

Me: Do you have Sprite?

BK Chickie: Yes.

Me: I'll have that. Small.

So I pull around, pay the girl, and as she gives me my food she informs me, "I don't know what you think you saw on the board, but my co-worker just checked and there aren't any cheesy tots up there."

What I wanted to say: Well, I'd tell you your co-worker's making you look like a fool, but I think you're doing fine all on your own.

Or: Then one of us is delusional. Maybe she should double-check, just to be sure.

Or: "Have a nice day" or "Sorry we didn't have half the stuff you ordered" would have been better.

What I DID say was, "Okay, if you say so," and drove off with the cheeseburger I didn't really want in the first place.

If I hadn't been in a hurry to get to my martial arts class, I would have gone in and spoken to the manager. After cooling down, I decided to just blog about it instead.

For the record:

Orange Fanta was on the board, too.

Summertime!

2010-05-31T14:14:00.000-07:00

I think I look forward to the end of school and the start of summer even more now than I did when I was a little kid. Oh, sure, when I was a student I always looked forward to summer vacation, when I could play with my friends and swim in the pool all day long, never put on shoes, and stay out until the streetlights came on. But by the end of vacation, I was always kind of ready to go back.

When I became a teacher, I developed the same antsy, drooly summer-lust I had as a kid -- and appreciated the vacation all that much more, because really, it's awfully short. Soon enough, I'd be back to work, teaching everyone else's kids, and don't get me wrong, I LOVE my job, but there's always that one kid (or two, or five, or that whole class) that makes you think maybe collecting garbage might have been a better career choice.

This year, I've been awaiting summer more eagerly than ever before, because it's been TEN MONTHS since I've had TLB all to myself. I know parents joke about dreading summer vacation and loving the start of school, and when TLB is school age I'll probably make the same jokes, but he's at the age right now where everything he does is nothing short of awesome, and now that I'm out of school, there are so many things we can do together.

We can go for longer walks. We can go for more bike rides. We can go to the beach. We can visit a different park every day, and figure out which one we like best. We can meet Daddy for lunch, and I can order TLB something off the menu instead of having to pack bottles and jars of food. We can play music and dance in the play room. We can go to story time at the library. We can go to the zoo, and the Alligator Farm, and Silver Springs. There are endless possibilities.

I've had some pretty good summers, but I think this is going to be the best one yet.

Progress

2010-05-17T02:35:00.001-07:00

Couldn't sleep at 4 am today, so I got up and got busy.

Doubled my running distance today. It was farther than I'd intended to run, but I felt like I could do it, so I did.

Years ago, 1.2 miles is a distance I would have scoffed at, but this morning it felt like a major accomplishment. I ran the whole distance without even thinking about quitting. I hardly limped at all, and I wasn't even wearing my brace. I probably could have gone farther, but I'll save that for next week.

I logged a total of 3.6 miles before 5:30 am -- .6 warmup, 1.2 run, .6 cool down, and 1.2 walking the dog (if I can double my distance, she can, too).

I am reminded that RUNNING STINKS. No, literally. But I've missed that stinkypants smell.

Zombie Plan

2010-05-12T18:27:00.000-07:00

I ran tonight. Twice as far as last night, which really isn't saying that much, but still, it's TWICE AS FAR. And really, running any distance is a huge accomplishment for my ginormous butt.

For the first time in a long time, I feel like I can do this.

I guess I should backtrack a little. It all began when I went to see "Zombieland" with Philip and Roland. I always felt like I had a pretty good chance of surviving a zombie apocalypse. But that was BEFORE. Before the destroyed ankle, before the reconstructed ACL, before the pregnancy.

The #1 rule for surviving a zombie apocalypse is CARDIO. And frankly, after a few years of injury and consequent inactivity, my cardio is crap. So I revamped my Zombie Plan, and set some goals.

When I was training for the 2000 Olympic trials, I used to run about 25 miles a week. It was a nice, comfortable mileage that was merely a supplement to my taekwondo training. For kicks I ran some road races, including the Gate River Run. I'd always wanted to run a marathon, but was advised against it by a doctor and more seasoned runner who said it would affect my kicking speed.

As I'm no longer competing in taekwondo, a marathon seemed like a fun goal. A half marathon seemed like a more plausible one. So in January, I registered for the 2011 Disney Half-Marathon.

The announcer at the Gate River Run this year said you can train for a half-marathon in six months. I figured I'd need it. It's been two years since I tore my ACL, and the strength of my left leg is still considerably less than that of my right. My "running" is really more of a hobble. Not wanting to re-injure my knee, I've been putting off running. And putting it off... and putting it off...

My friend Carolyn, a runner who had ACL surgery shortly after mine, has kept after me ever since I made this commitment. I need to just do it, she'd tell me. Running is the only thing that's going to build strength in my knee. Easy enough for her to say, since she was already in fantastic shape when she injured her knee, and she weighs, like, half of what I weigh. But still... she's right.

So last night I ran. It wasn't very far, and it was pretty pathetic, but it was a legitimate jog.

Tonight, I wore my brace and doubled my distance. And you know what? It wasn't too bad.

I will (once again) be revamping my workout schedule, and increasing my distance weekly.

I can do this.

Alex Stats - Age 1

2010-04-19T10:36:00.000-07:00

TLB is a year old. The birthday(s) lingered for a few days, with our official (albeit low-key) celebration being held on Sunday, when my parents treated TLB's Godparents Uncle Phil and Auntie Liz, our good friend Uncle Roland, and us to lunch at Applebees (TLB loves Applebees). Phil and Liz brought cake, and TLB, while not especially interested in eating it, proceeded to decorate himself and the table with multicolored frosting.

I still can't believe it's been a year since our son came into our lives. So much has changed since those first few days in the hospital and on the bili-bed at home. Now he's a walking (sort of), talking (sort of) toddler.

Here are TLB's present stats:

Age: One year, five days

Height: 30+ inches

Weight: 25.5 pounds

Clothing size: 18m - 2T

Hair: Brown

Eyes: Hazel

Favorite food: Bananas, hands down. He recently became a fan of mini pancakes, however.

Favorite character: Mickey Mouse

Favorite song: "Head, Shoulders, Knees & Toes" and the song that his Tonka trucks play.

Favorite activity: Throwing things (himself included) on the floor, rides in the stroller and on the bike seat.

Favorite book: Goodnight Moon

Words: Lots.

Intelligible words: Mama, Dada, Bye-bye, Hi.

Teeth: 8. Molars are lurking beneath the surface, though. I know you're there, molars.

Steps: A few. He still finds crawling easier and faster at this point.

Minutes needed to completely dismantle the play room: 4.5

Breakfast is the Most Important Meal of the Day

2010-04-05T09:50:00.000-07:00

Last week, I finally got the front-mounted bike seat that I have wanted since I found out I was pregnant. It's an iBert safe-T-seat. It's the most hideous shade of green and orange, but apart from that it's perfect.

Today, TLB and I took our first ride. We'd walked that morning (sort of) with Dad, but I only walked two miles instead of three because I knew I was going to take a bike ride later. After a quick jaunt to Starbucks, we donned our helmets, I threw my keys and my Blackberry in a little backpack, and we ventured out.

By the time we got to the entrance to the neighborhood, I knew I'd struck gold. TLB was having the time of his life! He was laughing and looking at everything, patting my arms and smiling up at me -- it was the perfect mother/son moment!

"Go down the hill, Mommy!" I knew he was saying. "Let's go fast!" So down the hill we went -- the same hill I rode my bike down every day to elementary school. We went so fast! TLB laughed even more!

Out onto Kinglsey we went to try out the bike lane. I've always wanted to ride in the bike lane. As we passed in front of an ambulance on a side street, I thought to myself, "Well, if I were to get hit by a car, I guess I'd want it to be an ambulance." <-- FORESHADOWING

We were about halfway back on Doctors Lake Drive when I started to think maybe I'd bitten off more than I could chew. But I used to run this all the time, the eager part of my brain cried. That was ten years and a zillion pounds ago, the rational part of my brain informed me. Stupid rational brain.

I was already planning my Facebook status upon my return: "-Went for bike ride with TLB. He had a blast. I nearly had a heart attack." The further I went, the more I thought this might be true. But I can downshift, I told myself. Sure, you don't go as fast, but you don't have to pedal as hard!

To make a long story short (too late!), I was soon walking. I was short of breath. My chest hurt. I was feeling very much like an idiot. I was pretty sure I wasn't dying, but I wasn't positive. I was incredibly fatigued. The sun started to look very bright and it hurt my eyes. I realized that I was not going to make it home on my own.

Acknowledging I was a big fat 'tard, I pulled my phone from my backpack. I could call Philip, but he was 30-40 minutes away. My dad was even farther. I was struggling to breathe, let alone push the bike. If I collapsed, TLB would fall. This was my primary concern, followed by the fact that a cardiac episode would really ruin my spring break. Reluctantly, I dialed 911.

The dispatcher for the sheriff's office quickly transferred me to the fire/rescue dispatcher. I calmly told him my location and condition, and that I had my 11-month-old son with me. He told me to get in a comfortable position and have my son flag down the rescue vehicle when it arrived. I assured him that while my son is quite advanced for his age, he could not flag down the truck (though he might wave at it). I told them to look for the hideous green bike seat.

The EMTs arrived in short order and confirmed (as I suspected all along) that I was not dying, but that I simply "overdid it a bit." They reassured me that I was not a moron and that I'd done the right thing, but told me next time I should ride a little closer to home until I was more certain of my capabilities. I recalled the day when I was about 8 years old and my mom and I biked to Burger King for breakfast. It wasn't that far of a ride, really, but I simply cannot function without breakfast. I barely made it.

I was perfectly aware of my capabilities. I had just ignored them.

The EMTs asked if I thought I needed to go to the hospital, but I told them that apart from being stupid, I was probably okay. I told them I'd called my husband and he was on his way, but he was coming from the Southside and it could take awhile. They kindly offered to drive me home (or rather, asked my son, "Want to ride in the firetruck, buddy?").

We arrived at my house with my bike strapped to the top of the firetruck, green iBert safe-T-seat displayed proudly for all to see. They deposited my bike, my son and me in my driveway, advised me to take it easy, and drove away -- with my backpack and house keys still in the cab of the truck.

Fifteen minutes later, I was in my house, safe and sound. The hubby arrived and fed TLB his lunch, and I collapsed into my recliner with a tumbler of ice water to try to pull it together.

Moral of the story: BREAKFAST IS THE MOST IMPORTANT MEAL OF THE DAY.

Baby Athletics

2010-03-17T05:39:00.000-07:00

My son is going to be an athlete. I'm not really giving him much of a choice.

Okay, seriously, I'm not that demanding of a parent, but my husband and I both believe that sports and competition are important. Our son will participate in at least one individual and one team sport. For how long? We'll see how that goes, I guess. I'm thinking at least until high school. Which sports will be up to him, of course. I'm hoping for taekwondo and soccer, naturally, but it will be his choice.

Being the spazzy noob mom that I am, I'm already looking for ways to hone my son's athletic skills. I suppose it's a stroke of good luck that his current favorite toy is a ball. That little guy can throw!

A couple weeks ago, we tried out the "Birds" class at The Little Gym. It was cute, and TLB seemed to enjoy himself, but it wasn't quite what I was looking for. It left me wishing I could have access to all that equipment without the class, the singing and clapping, the yuppy parents, and the other toddlers hitting my kid (Hey, Lulubell's Mom: When your daughter hits another child, she should, at the very least, hear the word "No" from you). On the other hand, that sort of environment is probably good for me, to temper my competitiveness and focus on what my son enjoys instead of what I want him to get out of the class.

Still, I think TLB could have used a little more time on the beam...

At any rate, with TLB's Mad Walking Skillz still in development, there's time to figure out how to approach the athletics thing. "Don't rush him," people tell me. "You'll miss these moments. You'll wish he would have stayed a baby longer." Yeah, yeah. Don't get me wrong, the stuff he does right now is cute and all, but each new thing he does is EXPONENTIALLY COOLER. Soon, he'll be walking. And after that, he'll be running. And when his balance is good enough: KICKING.

Last Saturday was the Gate River Run. Between my knee, my back and my overall Jabba-the-Huttness (and the effect of each on the others), I was in no condition to run. I miss running. I'm trying to get back into it, but it's a slow, slow process. As I was wistfully looking over the event webpage, however, something caught my eye. DIAPER DASH! There was a River Run for BABIES. If that isn't awesome, I don't know what is.

Saturday morning, we were at the Jacksonville Fairgrounds. Admittedly, TLB hadn't done much training for the event, but he's a good crawler and I felt he'd be competitive in the U12(months) division. I had a strategy: I would lure him to the finish line with his favorite beach ball. TLB had a different strategy: He'd play in the dirt. Okay, so it wasn't REALLY a race, or even a "dash," but all the babies and parents had fun, and TLB got a t-shirt and a medal and I got to feel like he'd accomplished something.

Next year, though, those toddlers had better watch out! TLB will be a 23-monther in the 13-24 month division, and we have a year to train!

First Words

2010-03-17T05:09:00.000-07:00

I always imagined that my baby's first words would be a profound and recognizable moment. He would look at me, arms outstretched, and say very clearly, "Mama."

Truth be told, TLB has been saying "mama" for quite some time now -- or rather, he's been saying the "ma" syllable in repetition, as well as "da" and "ba." So what he has been saying to me is not "Mama," but "ma ma ma ba ba da"... which makes no sense whatsoever. I know he's saying stuff. I just have no clue what it is.

This being said, it's very possible that he has been saying words to me for some time, and I, with my ridiculously high expectations of this child, simply have not noticed. This occurred to me the other morning when, as I was bundling TLB off to the car, I said, "Bye-bye, Daddy." We (and by "we" I really mean "I") always say bye-bye to Daddy in the mornings, just like we say hi and bye to the baby in the mirror at bathtime. This particular morning, however, TLB waved to his father and said "bah bah." My husband and I were stunned. The kid actually said bye to him! We were such proud parents!

A moment later, he waved again and said "Hi." This skill obviously needs some fine tuning.

Thinking back, there has been the occasional, random "ma ma" or "da da" that might actually have been words, but as I said, they are not what I imagined. I think I may need to lower my expectations for this poor kid, or he'll surely be huffing by the time he's seven.

Mommy Horror Humor

2010-01-07T18:35:00.000-08:00

I read a few mommy blogs (and even a daddy blog), and basically what I've learned is this: In order to produce an entertaining, funny blog, you need to have kids who do stuff that drives you to the point of near-insanity. Like All & Sundry's author whose toddler won't sleep through the night and stuffs dog hair in his mouth when he's angry.

I don't have stuff like that to write about. Well, okay, there's the fact that he'll say "da da da" all day long, but anytime anybody asks him to say "ma ma" he blows razzberries instead. Or there's the time I forgot to close his closet door and he could reach it from the crib and played with it noisily for a few minutes in the middle of the night before going back to sleep on his own. Or the time he woke up because his pajamas, sheet and blanket were soaked due to an inadequately fastened diaper, but once he was changed and dry went RIGHT BACK TO SLEEP (there's a trend here).

I guess I could write about the bicycle and bike seat I got for Christmas and have only used once due to Alex's wardrobe being ill-equipped for this freakish cold spell we're having, but that's Mother Nature's fault and not Alex's. Or maybe it's my fault because of my refusal to shell out the dough for cold-weather clothes when it'll be warm again in a week or two and by the time it's cold enough again to wear it he'll be, like, five sizes bigger. I'll just wait a couple weeks to ride the bike.

I don't have horror stories. I don't wish I did. I have a happy, tame baby and a boring blog. Somehow, I'll cope.

Christmas 2009

2009-12-28T16:20:00.000-08:00

What was Christmas like before TLB came? I honestly don't remember. Christmas 2009 was the most awesome Christmas ever.

Things I've Learned

2009-11-25T14:38:00.000-08:00

It's been a while since I've updated, but in my absence, I've learned a few things:

Elmo isn't as annoying as I initially believed. Apart from referring to himself in third person, he's really not that bad. Don't get me wrong, I'm not about to go out and buy a bunch of Elmo stuff for TLB's room, but I can totally handle watching "Elmo's World" on Sesame Street. Telly Monster and Baby Bear are annoying as all get-out, though (though the episode where Gabi babysat Baby Bear and his sister and made up that song "Now You're Doing the Bear" was really cute), and I'm convinced Zoe is borderline retarded.

Fevers don't need a reason. Sometimes they just happen, with no other symptoms. Really high ones. For, like, a week.

It takes a village to raise a child. Okay, maybe not, but having a couple extra villagers on hand from time to time is pretty convenient (see "Fevers don't need a reason"). My mom and dad ROCK.

Babies are hams. At least mine is. I don't know how he knows how to mug for the camera, but... he does.

Drama doesn't have to happen. At least, so far. Alex doesn't cry without a reason, and every reason has a solution. Feed him. Change him. Put him down for a nap. Sometimes a combination of those three (bottle + bedtime = magic). I think that a secure baby is a good baby. He knows I'm there for him, so whatever else is happening can't be that bad. I realize the Drama Factor may change when he's a Terrible Two. We'll see.

Bedtime Routine = Bedtime. This is magic. If the proper steps are followed, my son will go to sleep anywhere -- our house, my parents' house, the playpen at Uncle Roland's house, the playpen in a hotel room, anywhere. He knows that after dinner comes a bath; after his bath comes bottle, prayers and story; then the lullabye playlist goes on, the lights go off, and it's time to go to sleep. DO NOT STRAY FROM THE ROUTINE.

Five people cannot go on vacation in one vehicle if a baby is involved. Not if the driver wants to see out the back window, anyway.

There is no life before baby. Or at least if there was, I can't remember what it was like. I can't imagine being without him. Ever. Which confirms my theory that Casey Anthony is an evil, inhuman whore. EVIL.

This list is by no means complete. It probably never will be. Every day brings a new lesson. Luckily, I have always loved to learn.

Silent Night

2009-08-27T16:58:00.000-07:00

So, we've been having some sleeping issues. By "we" I mean TLB, of course, but when he wakes up at 4 am yapping over the monitor, it's really hard for me to get back to sleep afterwards, so his issues are my issues. My first impulse was to point my finger at day care. "His Cuddle-Gram says his last nap was at 11:15 and it was only for twenty minutes!" I'd cry. But people kept telling me that it's just something that happens. Just when you get on a schedule, the baby will change the schedule. THEY say.

I like to think I'm smarter than the average bear. So you'd think when my husband, who is always first up to change TLB's diaper in the morning, starts telling me morning after morning "I didn't put his pajamas back on him because they were wet" a bell would go off? Right? Right?!

It took ME getting Alex out of bed and feeling the sogginess of his Sleep-sack to realize that maybe something wasn't right. So last night, after he chugged 10 ounces of formula like a frat boy at a kegger, I thought I'd try out those size 3 Baby Dry Pampers that Philip picked up at the store the other day.

My alarm went off at 5:15 am as usual. I was asleep when it happened. So was TLB. I woke him up to change his diaper and give him a bath at 6 am as usual, and holy cow! That diaper weighed a TON! But baby was dry and happy. And well-rested.

Another mystery solved.

Hopefully he'll sleep so hard again tonight that he won't roll onto his tummy. But just in case he does, he'll be wearing his new Snuza movement monitor. Now Mommy can sleep better, too.

Peace of Mind

2009-08-23T18:19:00.002-07:00

Alex rolls over now. He's pretty good at it, in fact:

That is to say, he's good at rolling from back to tummy. He HAS rolled from tummy to back before, but he hasn't quite figured out that he could do it at will. So a lot of times he rolls to his tummy, then gets unhappy about it because he can't figure out how to get back.

Unless he is sleeping. He has become a stomach sleeper, just like his mom. Try as I might to put him to bed on his back, I will go into the nursery to check on him and find this:

As I've said before, SIDS terrifies me. While I realize that there is likely many more factors to it than just a mattress and a baby's face, it's still a frightening prospect. And since I cannot spend my entire life watching my baby sleep to make sure he keeps breathing, the feature FOX News did on the Snuza Halo Baby Movement Monitor definitely caught my attention.

My peace of mind is definitely worth $130 with free shipping. I'll just be spending my nights by Alex's crib until it arrives.

Day Care

2009-08-14T07:23:00.000-07:00

Eventually, the day had to come. School pre-planning arrived, which meant day care for my little Monkey. Earlier in the summer, my mother and I spent a day shopping for day cares, and I found one that I liked reasonably well. The big selling point was that it was less than a mile away from school. It was also fairly new, so it was small and clean. Alex would be one of two babies.

My husband went with me the first morning. He said it was so he could meet the workers there, so they'd know him if he ever had to pick Alex up, but it was really for moral support. It wasn't that I was worried. I was just going to miss my baby, that's all. We'd been together ALL SUMMER.

Anyway... I was prepared! I had Alex's bag all packed with his diapers, formula, a bottle, a change of clothes, a burp cloth, a toy... everything I thought he'd need. It's a good thing I packed a change of clothes, because I forgot to pack a bib. I also wrote up Alex's "typical" schedule (naps, feedings, etc.). Not because I expected them to follow it, of course -- I'm not THAT much of a spaz-mom -- but because I'd noticed on the application there was a space for "Is there anything we should know about your child" and I thought my schedule might help them out if they were trying to figure out why he was fussy.

The owner of the center seemed appreciative of the list, but told me, "You'll probably notice that he'll be more tired in the evenings, because we try to keep the babies up doing brain activities." Keep them up?! Strange, I would have thought they'd want the babies to nap. I know I DO.

So it was at that moment I decided to look for another place. The mother of a couple of my students had given me a card for a woman who runs a day care out of her home. We were on the same page for napping, but she lost me when she said I would still be paying for the space if she took a vacation. She decides to go on vacation for a week, and I have to pay her AND find someone else to keep my child? I don't think so.

Anyway, to make a long story short, Alex's first week at day care was surprisingly smooth. The baby teacher is far more accommodating about nap time than I was led to believe, and she seems to do very well with Alex. I like getting his daily "Cuddle-gram" that tells me when he napped, ate, peed and pooped. I like seeing "Alex was [x] happy [ ] sad [ ] fussy [x] other __outside___" (I am assuming someone TOOK him outside, and that that's a good thing). He's going to stay there for now.

Plus, it literally takes me TWO MINUTES to drive there after school. That's less time I have to spend away from my boy.

My Baby's Brain (and other things)

2009-08-04T15:01:00.000-07:00

Because that's really what all this sleep stuff is all about. I'm concerned about my baby's brain development. Especially because I don't eat fishy Omega-3-rich foods, and I'm terrible about remembering to take my vitamins. My little monkey needs every advantage I can give him, and sleep seems like the easy one.

"Cry It Out" has gone well, and now sleep is achieved with minimal to no crying. Monkey-boy is back to putting himself to sleep at night after I lay him down, and he sleeps for 11 to 13 hours. The trouble has been naps. He has only napped for 30 to 45 minutes at a time...

UNTIL YESTERDAY.

Yesterday I laid him down for his late-afternoon nap, which is normally pretty short. At 3 p.m. he laid down without fussing, and promptly fell asleep. HE WOKE UP AT 5 P.M.! A two-hour nap is unheard of, and the fact that he did it so close to bedtime alarmed me a little. But we started our evening routine shortly after he woke up, and he went right back to bed at 6:30 p.m. and slept all night.

I thought it was a fluke. This morning, his 9 a.m. nap was the same 45 minutes it usually is. When he went down shortly before noon, he was awake 35 minutes later. I was eating my lunch, so I just listened to him on the monitor. He tossed and grunted a little, but didn't cry. And then something magical happened. He went back to sleep.

He slept for two hours again. Two glorious hours. I was able to DO STUFF. Like, more than one thing. I didn't have to prioritize my chores and do the one that was most important. I could do several. It was wonderful.

But really, nap time isn't about me. Honest, it isn't. It's about my happy, well-rested little boy... and his brain.

Cry It Out... or not.

2009-07-29T15:00:00.000-07:00

I know it's way, WAY too soon to say "hooray!" but TLB just went to bed without fuss. I thought he was asleep when I laid him down (and maybe he was). I put his Sleep Sack on him, then when I kissed him good night and told him I loved him he opened his eyes and smiled at me -- one of those whole-body, curl-his-legs-up smiles.

Best. Feeling. Ever.

Search Overload: Sleep

2009-07-27T03:14:00.000-07:00

Sleep is my current obsession. If one were to click on my Google history, he would find searches like "baby napping" and "baby sleep schedule" occasionally broken up by something random like "bottle-nosed dolphin" or "Sugar Ray Leonard."

My son is a fantastic sleeper. I always knew he would be. While I was pregnant, I diligently counted kicks. My little Wormie would sometimes go for long periods (like, hours) without moving, but when he did move, there was absolutely no doubt about it, so I never worried. I just figured, "No big deal, he's just sleeping." I hoped this meant he would have a long sleep cycle when he was born.

I had such a horrible time sleeping during my last trimester. I would wake up pretty much every half-hour, and have to completely reposition myself and all the bedding to ease the pain in my back and hips. People thought I was completely delusional when I would say that I couldn't wait for the baby to be born so I could get a decent night's sleep.

When Alex was born, I was in the hospital for two nights afterward. "Enjoy it," people would tell me. "It's not the same after you go home." Thank God for that! The problem was never Alex sleeping. It was the constant parade of people into my room -- nurses, techs, doctors, dietary, lactation consultants, etc. I never got more than a half-hour of sleep before someone else would come in to feed me, take my vitals, or just check on me or the baby. My lactation consultant (who for the most part totally didn't get me, but she meant well, bless her) finally had the nursery take Alex for a while and put a note on my door that I was not to be disturbed. Of course, this didn't stop the geniuses at the front desk from calling my room to tell me that I had a visitor and could they come in or did the note apply to them, too, but that wasn't so bad.

Anyway, we got Alex home finally, and my husband and I fell into the routine almost instantly. Alex would cry, Philip would get up and change him, and I'd get situated to nurse. Occasionally, Philip would volunteer to feed him, too, so I could get some sleep, but I was lousy noob at pumping, had no breast milk in storage, and didn't want Alex to have a feeding that was solely formula because I was a spastic new mom.

Anyway, after Alex's bout with jaundice and our strict two-hour bili-bed cycle (which wasn't always so strict and once or twice turned into a four-hour cycle due to a faulty alarm clock), he became a great sleeper. Within a week he was sleeping for stretches of five hours at night. By six weeks, he was sleeping through the night. Now at three months he sleeps 11 to 13 hours at night.

Alex's nighttime sleeping habits have never been in question, and I wouldn't trade them for anything. He does not nap, however. Oh, sure, a little cat-nap here and there, but he very, very rarely sleeps for more than 30 minutes during the day. He's a goodnatured baby, and this doesn't seem to be affecting his nighttime sleeping at all, but it still concerns me because I know he ought to be napping.

The very first book I got for my Amazon Kindle, on the recommendation of PopMommy, was Healthy Sleep Habits, Happy Child by Dr. Marc Weissbluth -- a fascinating read, which has once again given me some ideas to implement. Unfortunately, this week is going to be disrupted by my summer camp, but I am bringing Alex's bassinet, will black out the window in my office in the gym, and will hope for the best.

Don't Tell My Mom

2009-07-17T19:23:00.000-07:00

If my mom read this blog, she'd tell me to lay off the Google. My father accused me of being one of those "search overload" people from the Bing.com commercials.

This time it was SIDS, which I happen to find terrifying. Gone now is my adorable sailboat bumper pad for the crib. The cute little quilt (which I would never have used as a blanket anyway) is awaiting a quilt hanger for nursery wall. In their places are a breathable mesh bumper and a Halo Sleep Sack. Safer, but not nearly as cute, gosh-darnit.

Okay, well, the kid is just as cute as before.

Nursery Update

2009-07-13T17:18:00.000-07:00

Walls are painted. I was going to put this job off for another couple weeks, but my mom talked me into doing it this weekend. I'm glad she did. Uncle Roland and I made short work of it, and I'm pleased with the way it turned out.

I also bought the first section of cube storage and put it together while Alex supervised.

More cubes to come, but for now, I'm pleased.

The Nursery

2009-07-09T18:34:00.000-07:00

... finally has a little boy living in it!

We have owned nursery furniture since March. It was unloaded from my husband's truck and deposited in our front living room for storage until there was room in Alex's room. Alex's room was formerly our guest room, but has been filled with miscellaneous crap for the past few years.

Two weeks ago, you couldn't even walk into that room. Now a little boy lives and plays in there. Talk about miraculous transformations. There's still work to be done, like painting the walls and adding shelves and storage cubes, but it's a livable room.

Love, love, LOVE the nursery bedding and accessories. Couldn't be happier with them. They're part of the reason there is furniture in there before the walls are painted (light blue).

The dresser, which doubles as a changing table (for now). Planning to mount some cabinets and shelves over it for storage and decoration.

This chair was my grandmother's. She rocked me in it when I was a baby. I love it more than I could love any glider rocker, because it creaks. Rocking chairs should creak. Plus I found those great lighthouse cushions for it. The Winnie the Pooh swing is likely going to be evicted to another room of the house -- mainly because it doesn't match! The wall behind the chair is where I'm going to go nuts with cube storage.

I am also searching for a large wooden toy box that I can paint. It will live under the window on the fourth, unpictured wall.

So the more I think about it, the more I realize that the nursery is far from complete. But hey, Alex doesn't seem to mind.

Woohoo!

2009-07-05T17:05:00.000-07:00

New header, courtesy of Alex's Uncle Roland. Thanks, Unc!

Things for Mommy to Remember About Nail Trimming

2009-07-04T17:14:00.000-07:00

1. Alex's nails grow FAST.
2. Nail clippers are sharp and clumsy.
3. It is hard to be accurate while trimming the nails of a baby who is awake.
4. Nipped fingers bleed A LOT.

This is the second time I've done this. Transformers Band-Aids are now kept in the diaper bag for such emergencies.

A Grain of Salt

2009-06-25T17:34:00.000-07:00

My mom has told me more than once to STOP READING. I can't help it. I hear about something that might affect or is affecting my baby, I want to KNOW STUFF. Polyhydramnios. Group B Strep. Fifth disease/Parvovirus B19. Jaundice. Gas. "Why the heck won't my baby wake up?" (Seriously, I've never seen anyone sleep like my baby slept the day after we brought him home from the hospital.) I've read about all that stuff. Sure, a lot of it's scary, but it's also good to know.

The thing about my reading is that I know how to take things with a grain of salt. I've done a lot of investigation into feeding babies, teaching babies, getting babies to sleep. I don't accept any one book as a "bible." Rather, I've gotten a lot of different ideas. If you read enough, every once in a while you come across something that totally makes sense to you. You'll also come across stuff that makes you think, "There's no way I'll ever be able to make that work." What's cool is that there's no absolute Right Way. But if you read enough, you can find techniques that can work for you.

I know I still have a lot to learn. I'm a total noob when it comes to babies. At the same time? I have a ten week old baby who puts himself to sleep without crying when I lay him down in his bassinet, and stays that way for ten hours. There is definitely something to be said for reading.

Someone who I respect a great deal as a mother, teacher and disciplinarian told me the other day that she is convinced that all babies start out good, and it's parents who cause the bad habits. I totally agree. Oh, sure, there are things you probably can't help. Colic comes to mind. But babies learn from day one, and I am bound and determined to make sure my baby stays a "good baby."

Next into Google: "How do you teach a baby to swallow cereal?"

Summer Days, Driftin' Away

2009-06-22T18:11:00.000-07:00

Once again, I have to wonder how I got so lucky. I really do have an awesome baby. He smiles a lot. He sleeps through the night. He hardly ever cries. He loves to snuggle.

Every summer I run two week-long summer day camps for my martial arts students. This year I am doing so with baby in tow. My little Wormie spent the morning alternating between napping and watching kids train and play in a gym with no AC. When he slept, I let him do so in his stroller in my office, which has a window-unit AC and was considerably cooler. There were times, though, that he simply wanted to be held, and I as I had to supervise ten other children, I had to let him snuggle against me in the 90+ degree heat of the gym. It could have been a horrible day -- but he never fussed. He just ate, slept, played and snuggled. Alex rocks.

Even as miserably and oppressively hot as it's been, I don't want summer to end. The more time I spend with my son, the more I'm dreading sending him to daycare in August. Every day, he does something just a little cuter, or a little cooler, or a little better. I don't want to miss any of his "firsts," and I'm afraid I will.

What I wouldn't give to be a stay-at-home mom! At least I'll have next summer to look forward to...

Pregnancy is Beautiful

2009-06-21T04:31:00.000-07:00

Pregnancy is beautiful -- at least, that's what I've always heard other people say. To be honest, before I was pregnant myself, I didn't really care. Now, having done it, I must say I do appreciate the process more, but I still don't consider it "beautiful."

Admittedly, there are some women who pull it off really well. They stay in awesome shape, and sport a tight little sphere in their tummy, and after the baby is born they look ready to throw on their Asics go run a marathon.

That was totally not me. I remember trying to climb into my husband's truck at only 4 months and asking him if I looked as big as I felt. (He told me no, of course. He was wonderful.) I remember being about 20 weeks (only half as pregnant as I was going to be) -- the teeny little filipino moms at school would ask me when I was due, and when I'd tell them, their eyes would get really big and they'd just reply in awe, "Oh."

My pregnancy was not beautiful. I put on 50 pounds of baby and fluid. I had a near constant cold from August to April. My ankles were about as big around as my thighs. I had heartburn like a mofo, and I had to eat my supper around 4 pm or else the baby would kick it back up into my mouth in the middle of the night. I bought Tums in bulk. Every time I'd sneeze, I'd pee a little, too. Most days, I felt like I was leaking from every orifice of my body.

I recall a day near the end of my pregnancy -- I was climbing the stairs of the 5th-8th grade building at my school to eat lunch in the teacher's lounge. There is a set of double doors at the top of the stairs. A class of 7th graders was coming down the stairs for lunch, but one boy remained at the top to hold the door for me. However, another boy, seeing me coming, ran back up to open the OTHER door.

Pregnancy for me was definitely not beautiful. What I did decide was that it was absolutely amazing. Amazing, that something like this:

could become this:

and eventually this:

And even though not all pregnancies are beautiful, all babies are. Even though they sometimes look like this:

Baby Classes

2009-06-19T06:19:00.000-07:00

For years before my son's birth, I have been planning activities for him in the hopes of someday raising the Most Awesome Child Ever. One of the things I was absolutely set on was some sort of dance class. Oh, I don't expect my son to wear tights and frolic about. But I'd like him to learn to move to music, and not feel self-conscious about doing it. Neither of his parents are dancers, but we both wish we were. A lot of men I've spoken to agree that dance lessons are a good idea. Chicks dig guys who can dance, right?

However, my little Wormie can't exactly dance until he learns to walk, so I'm looking for other alternatives to help with his physical and mental development in the meanwhile. A Spaz Mom like me could go nuts with all the choices available! Swimming, gymnastics, music... SIGN LANGUAGE! I found a baby signing class for 6 month olds. How awesome.

Swim lessons are a must, especially in Florida. Those start at 6 months. It'll be October, but the pool is heated. By that time, Alex should be big enough for swimmie diapers.

Baby gymnastics would be cool for developing strength and coordination. Plus, the class at the Little Gym is called "Bugs." I'm looking forward to saying, "Time to take Wormie to Bugs class!" That starts at 4 months, so it'll give me something to do until we start swimming!

In the meanwhile, I guess I'll stick with our daily activities of singing, playing 1-2-3-Jump! and the Baby Einstein play gym.

Nighttime routine results

2009-06-17T02:50:00.000-07:00

After being put to bed at 7 pm, Alex slept -- or at least was quiet -- until 5:30 am. A new personal best!

When I was pregnant with Alex, I would count kicks like a good new mommy. I read that he should make ten movements per hour. Sometimes he would go a few hours without moving at all! But when he did move, he really moved, so I never worried that anything was wrong. I figured he was sleeping, and I predicted he would have a good sleep cycle when he was born. I was right!

Nighttime routine

2009-06-16T16:28:00.000-07:00

There are so many things I want to write about, as I have two months of mommyhood to catch up on, but I'm doing this one while it's fresh.

I want to be the best mom I can be. As a teacher, I have had plenty of examples of what not to do. As a daughter, I've had an awesome example of parenting from my own mom and dad. I've done tons of research, and I have my own ideas as well.

I am a firm believer in routines. Children like structure. So far, I've been so overwhelmed by, well, everything that I've neglected to actually start any routines with my son. We have "things we do," but we don't have a schedule. So as of tonight, I'm starting a bedtime routine.

So far, I've been really lucky. Alex is an awesome sleeper. Once he got off the bili-bed (which had Alex and me on a very strict 2-hour eat-and-sleep schedule), he instantly slept four hours at a time at night, and that time has increased gradually. By the time he was a month old, he was sleeping six hours, and by six weeks, he'd sleep from 9 pm to 5 am. As far as I'm concerned, that is "through the night," but I know babies need more sleep than that.

Up until now, Alex has started dozing around 7 pm, so I'm pushing bedtime up. Here was tonight's schedule:

6:15 pm -- Bath time, lotion, PJs (this part of the routine is also for me -- sometimes I procrastinate putting on the PJs, and I end up waking him up to do it. Not good.)

6:30 - 7 pm -- Quiet time and nursing in the recliner. Tonight it was just nursing and singing the alphabet, but once I get into the routine, I'll start reading to him as well.

7 pm -- Bedtime. I laid him down and said prayers, even though he was already mostly asleep, then kissed him goodnight, turned on his lullaby music and turned out the light. Unfortunately, it's still not very dark in the bedroom. Once I get the nursery finished, I need to make sure I have good, heavy shades on the windows.

He has been in there 45 minutes so far. He has woken up at least once, because I could hear him cooing to himself, but he never cried, and now he's asleep again. Tomorrow's update will tell how things went.

Labor

2009-06-16T06:02:00.000-07:00

When I was about six months pregnant, a friend of mine asked me if I was worried about labor. I was worried about everything, of course, but I knew he was asking if I was afraid of the pain. I told him I wasn't, not really.

In my life, my exposure to babies and pregnant women has been limited. I'm a teacher, though, on a faculty that consists almost entirely of women, so my workplace is chock-full of mothers, and all through my pregnancy I'd gotten lots of advice. I knew that the pain I would feel would be like no other pain I'd felt before. But I was pretty sure I could handle it.

I'm no stranger to pain. I competed in a combat sport for over a decade. I've fought at least four different Olympians. I've fought men. I've had countless bruises, scrapes and sprains. I've dislocated my hip. I've had ACL surgery. And I've never been a huge fan of pain medication. I figured, if nothing else, I was just tougher than a lot of other women.

I had initially wanted to go a childbirth class with my husband. I wanted to do this for him, not for me, so he could meet other dads and bond and stuff. My husband pointed out to me that, at 49, he would be twice as old as many of the other men who were becoming fathers for the first time, and he thought trying to bond with them was silly. He had a point.

My mom is a veteran Labor & Delivery nurse, so instead of going to a class, I just asked her lots of questions about what to expect. About a week before I was going to be induced, she brought home some videos for me to watch. I watched clip after clip of these women with their husbands petting their faces and feeding them ice chips, and their midwives and their birthing balls and their doulas and their birth plans. It all looked so ridiculous, and I warned my husband that when I was in labor, there would be zero petting.

I was delivering at the hospital at which my mom used to work, so many of the nurses there knew her, and therefore knew who I was. My husband and I checked in at 6 pm to the chorus of, "Oh, it's little Sharbo!" My mom arrived shortly after, and asked me loudly in front of the nurse, who was an old friend of hers, if I'd already handed out copies of my birth plan. The nurse looked at both of us, determined we were joking, and looked vastly relieved.

And so it began. The first night was uneventful, and incredibly boring -- one can watch only so many episodes of "The Fresh Prince of Bel-Air" on late-night TBS, after all. I was strapped up to so many monitors and IVs that getting up and walking around was not an option. All I could do was sit and wait -- and Facebook! A tray table, my laptop, and the hospital's wifi were my best friends, and through Facebook, friends and relatives all over the country were receiving updates from me like "Sharon hopes she doesn't deliver during American Idol" and pictures of my husband sleeping on the uncomfortable little cot.

It wasn't until the following afternoon that things really got rolling, and I was tough, just like I hoped I'd be. Oh, I was grumpy because I hadn't eaten in over 24 hours, but I never complained about the pain. As it turned out, I was a little too tough. Whenever I had a contraction, I'd just close my eyes and take deep breaths and wait for it to pass -- because I knew it would pass. After this had gone on a while, a nurse asked me what my level of pain was on a scale of 1 to 10, and was shocked when I told her, "Oh, seven or eight." Meds were ordered up, but after the first dose, I realized that all they did was give me that foggy, blurry feeling that I hate about pain meds, and I vowed I wouldn't have any more.

That evening, the anesthesiologist arrived to give me my epidural. I can see why people consider that a godsend, but in the end I decided I didn't like that either. I hated not being able to move my legs, or feel whether my injured knee was supported properly. Most of all, I hated having to wear the oxygen mask because the epidural was so strong I had to work hard just to breathe.

So when the epidural started to wear off, I wasn't sure whether I ought to tell anybody -- and again, because I wasn't crying and carrying on, the nurses had no clue. Then suddenly, I was informed it was time to push. I'd been told that pushing usually lasted about 3 hours, but since at this point I was essentially "natural" and could actually feel to push, it only took me about 35 minutes. I don't remember too much about those 35 minutes. I remember that yes, it was indeed the worse pain I'd ever been in. I remember being embarrassed because I thought I might throw up, and my husband had to hold a little pink tray under my chin in case I did (I didn't). I don't remember telling the nurse in no uncertain terms that I didn't want her mopping my face with a cool washcloth, but apparently I did.

My doctor made it there for about two contractions before my son was born -- he spent more time stitching me up than he did delivering Alex. By that time, I so wanted to be done that I didn't bother telling him that I could feel the stitches, too.

How It All Started

2009-06-15T05:50:00.000-07:00

2008 didn't start off as the best year ever. In February, I was approached by my principal and told that I was going to be cut back to four days a week for the 2008-09 school year. In April, I tore my ACL completely playing volleyball. Later that month, our family dog died. Things were NOT going well. I could only hope that the law of averages would kick in soon.

We got a new puppy. She was a lot of work, but she's a really good dog. In June I had ACL construction surgery, and that went really well. Our principal at school retired, and the new principal informed me that there was no possible way they could not have me work five days a week, and had me sign a new contract. Things were looking up.

I had no idea how much.

From 1994 to 2004, I had been a nationally-ranked taekwondo competitor. I competed at the Olympic qualifiers in 2000, and I was on the AAU national team from 2002 to 2004. In 2004, an ankle injury compelled me to retire from competition, and it was then that my husband and I started trying to have a child. My body had other ideas. Oh, it liked to make me think I was pregnant -- then I'd take a home pregnancy test, and everything would go back to normal. People kept telling me, "It'll happen when you stop worrying about it."

With everything that happened in the first six months of 2008, the last thing my husband and I were thinking about was a baby. Then on August 18, tired after six of weeks of waiting for my period, I took an HPT to kickstart my monthly routine and this happened:

As you can see, that second line is not very dark, so -- like Juno -- I remained unconvinced. I took the second HPT in the pack, with the same result. A little research on the internet revealed that there is no such thing as a "false positive." If the test showed two lines, however faint, I was indeed knocked up.

I called my husband. His response was a bland, "You're kidding." My mom's? "Don't joke about that." Nobody believed me! There were times I didn't believe it myself. I never had morning sickness. I could chalk the exhaustion up to the start of school. I didn't really feel pregnant.

There would come a time, and it would be soon, that there would be no doubt.

By 20 weeks, I looked like this:And I was only half as pregnant as I was going to be!

By Easter 2009, I was ready to burst. I had already been having weekly nonstress tests and biophysical profiles for a few months because of my elevated blood pressure and the ridiculous amount of fluid I was carrying. Finally, after nine months of increasing hugeness and all the scares the medical profession can lay on someone of Advanced Maternal Age, my doctor scheduled me for labor induction on Monday, April 13, at 6 pm.

At 3:07 am on Wednesday, April 15, I became a mommy!

What will follow are the adventures of a first-time mom.