Alex Stats - Age 1

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

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

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

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

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

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

Things I've Learned

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.