'Twas the night of our Christmas
And all through the house
Not a creature was stirring
Not even Mickey Mouse.
A big red train was sitting on tracks on the floor
Where Little Man had found it the morning before.
When Dada in his pajamas and Mom, with a yawn
Had welcomed in Christmas that morning at dawn.
And Little Man, dressed in plaid that was red
Had woken up early and jumped of bed.
And there was that marvelous sight on the rug
A train with real steam that went chugga-chug-chug.
And soon at the door came a knock filled with glee
A visit from all of Little Man's family.
There was food and music and presents galore.
But nothing distracted him from the train on the floor.
As day turned into evening,there was the constant sound
Of the train on the tracks that went around and around.
As more friends stopped by and more cheer filled the air
To the chugging red choo choo nothing could compare.
The sun dipped down low in the Christmas Day sky
The visitors slowed and started to say their goodbyes.
And soon it was time to snuggle up into bed
Especially for Mom, who was really overstimulated.
With several relatives going to sleep on the living room floor
Mom Mom and Dada shut Little Man's bedroom door.
Christmas was exciting, but he was out like a light.
Merry Christmas to all, and to all a good night.
Tuesday, December 25, 2012
Friday, December 21, 2012
It's Beginning to Look a lot Like Christmas
Christmas this year is fun, because Little Man is in on the action. He doesn't really get the whole concept of Santa Claus and gift giving (which is quite alright with his parents) but he loves the decorations that have popped up around the house.
He has done remarkably well with the Christmas tree--we've had no ornament casualties, and he's very gentle when he does look at his favorites. He loves the tree lights and spends quite a bit of time sitting next to the tree watching the lights blink. Under the tree sits a tiny little train set that I had when I was a child--and of course this has become an instant favorite.
Colorful lights line the window in our book nook that twinkle merrily when the sun goes down and cast a festive light for us to read by. And of course Little Man wasn't going to let me have all the fun when it came to decorating. He's been busily gluing fruit loops to construction paper Christmas trees in all different sizes for his very own snow village. We also put the fruit loops to good use to decorate a star that is now perched on the top of our tree. The centerpeice of his village is a foam gingerbread house which he decorated enthusiastically with stickers. He was also an excellent help when it came to assembling the train holiday cards I made to send out to family and friends.
And it wouldn't be the holiday season without baking, would it? Our little family has spent a fair amount of time in the kitchen this holiday. Little Man made graham cracker cottages covered with vanilla icing, M&Ms and fruit loops (they have been ever-present in our crafting recently). I spent some quality time with my glue gun and a bowl full of candy and made candy trains to give as gifts.
And we made a family affair of decorating several dozen train-shaped sugar cookies. Husband, Little Man and I spent a memorable evening in the kitchen laughing, shaking sprinkles and getting very sticky.
It's beginning to look a lot like Christmas--and Christmas has never looked better.
He has done remarkably well with the Christmas tree--we've had no ornament casualties, and he's very gentle when he does look at his favorites. He loves the tree lights and spends quite a bit of time sitting next to the tree watching the lights blink. Under the tree sits a tiny little train set that I had when I was a child--and of course this has become an instant favorite.
Colorful lights line the window in our book nook that twinkle merrily when the sun goes down and cast a festive light for us to read by. And of course Little Man wasn't going to let me have all the fun when it came to decorating. He's been busily gluing fruit loops to construction paper Christmas trees in all different sizes for his very own snow village. We also put the fruit loops to good use to decorate a star that is now perched on the top of our tree. The centerpeice of his village is a foam gingerbread house which he decorated enthusiastically with stickers. He was also an excellent help when it came to assembling the train holiday cards I made to send out to family and friends.
And it wouldn't be the holiday season without baking, would it? Our little family has spent a fair amount of time in the kitchen this holiday. Little Man made graham cracker cottages covered with vanilla icing, M&Ms and fruit loops (they have been ever-present in our crafting recently). I spent some quality time with my glue gun and a bowl full of candy and made candy trains to give as gifts.
And we made a family affair of decorating several dozen train-shaped sugar cookies. Husband, Little Man and I spent a memorable evening in the kitchen laughing, shaking sprinkles and getting very sticky.
It's beginning to look a lot like Christmas--and Christmas has never looked better.
Saturday, December 15, 2012
Tinsel and Pixie Dust
We just returned from our holiday vacation at Walt Disney World. And at Disney, Christmas truly is the most wonderful time of the year.
From the tallest Christmas trees Little Man (or his mother, fror that matter) has even seen to gingerbread houses big enough for a person to walk in, Christmas Magic was around every corner of our vacation. We stayed in The Wilderness Lodge, which was the perfect setting for a holiday vacation. The outdoorsy, rustic feel of the Lodge lent itself beautifully to the decorations, and it was truly like living in a gingerbread cabin for a week.
We spoiled ourselves (and the kid) rotten. We ate at our favorite restaurant, Ohana (at The Polynesian Resort), every morning for breakfast. We stayed up well past our bedtimes each night we were there, wandering the parks under starry skies or watching the Electric Water Parade from the beach of The Wilderness Lodge. We explored all the nooks and crannies of the resort, from the lobby to the beach to the geyser that erupted each hour. Little Man and I visited the Kid's Activity Center every day and made a craft.
We had an unexpected delay on the monorail ("mawa rawl!") on our first day which left us at a standstill in front of the Magic Kingdom, in just the right place to see the castle and--every few minutes--the train as it chugged by. This was extremely thrilling to our Little Man. We rode the monorail circuit several times and looked at all the sights, including my favorite: the wedding pavilion, where our fairytale started seven years ago. Little Man even got a special "Monorail Captain" sticker, which he wore proudly all day and was then placed in his memory book.
We visited two parks, Epcot and The Magic Kingdom, and Little Man surprised us by requesting to meet his favorite characters.
Husband and I purchased an autograph book for him, thinking we would have the characters sign it during our character dining meals. We would add photos and it would be a nice book for Little Man to look at when we were back home.
While visiting the UK in Epcot, Little Man spotted Winnie the Pooh and Tigger. We stood in line to see them, and I was expecting the same reaction from him as when we visited in the fall.
But Little Man was better prepared this time: he gave Tigger a high five and patted Pooh's nose. He waved and smiled at them, and as we were leaving, Little Man looked wistfully over his shoulder and said, "Bye bye Pooh Ba."
Pooh Bear wasn't the only thing Little Man enjoyed at Epcot. We had a good time riding the "Finding Nemo" ride and watching the fish in the big aquarium. Little Man was content to sit and watch all the colors float by and point out the colors he knew.
He was a fan of the big fountain, and we watched it "dance" to music several times that day. We wandered the worlds, having a fantastic dinner in Japan and purchasing Little Man a (foam) sword in Germany.
At the Magic Kingdom, we watched Mickey and his pals arrive on the shiny red steam engine to open the park. Little Man looked like he might burst--Mickey and a choo choo! How overwhelming. We headed straight for what we knew would be Little Man's favorite rides--the carousel, the Winnie the Pooh ride, and the People Mover. It was on the People Mover that we spotted Stitch. Little Man had seen him a few times at breakfast and had warmed to him over the week, and was insistent that we find him once we got off the ride.
We found Experiment 626 causing trouble in Tomorrowland--he didn't have anyone to play with and was threatening to slide down a banister. Little Man was happy to oblige and we spent quite some time with Stitch, giving fist bumps and hugs.
After a spin around the whole kingdom on the train, we asked Little Man what we wanted to do.
"Mi Mi!" Little Man answered promptly.
"Mickey?" I asked him. I was answered with the grin he gives when he's relieved I understand him.
So we headed to Town Hall where Mickey hangs out during the day. And as we waited in line, I gave my usual refrain of, "It's almost our turn. Remember Mickey is big like Mom and Dada. Are you sure you want to see him?"
"Aye," he answered each time.
Soon it was our turn with the big cheese himself. After a moment of shyness, Little Man opened up to Mickey, giving him a kiss on the nose (cue me melting into a puddle), gave him high fives and had a HUGE smile on his face for our family photograph.
We hadn't been back outside for five minutes when Little Man piped up.
"Donda?" He asked.
"Donald?" Husband asked. There was that grin again.
We found Donald, Goofy, Minnie and Daisy in the new Fantasyland. By the time we reached Minnie, Little Man was confidently walking up to his friends, handing over his autograph book and saying, "Hi Minna! Sign!" He rattled off their names like a pro (we had never heard him call them by name before) and talked about them through the rest of our day at the Magic Kingdom. The memories of Little Man meeting the gang for the first time are priceless, as are the photos.
But the real magic of the vacation? The time we got to spent with each other. Without work, work e-mail, dishes, cooking or laundry. Husband and I got to enjoy each other and enjoy Little Man.
Of course, a little pixie dust doesn't hurt, either.
From the tallest Christmas trees Little Man (or his mother, fror that matter) has even seen to gingerbread houses big enough for a person to walk in, Christmas Magic was around every corner of our vacation. We stayed in The Wilderness Lodge, which was the perfect setting for a holiday vacation. The outdoorsy, rustic feel of the Lodge lent itself beautifully to the decorations, and it was truly like living in a gingerbread cabin for a week.
We spoiled ourselves (and the kid) rotten. We ate at our favorite restaurant, Ohana (at The Polynesian Resort), every morning for breakfast. We stayed up well past our bedtimes each night we were there, wandering the parks under starry skies or watching the Electric Water Parade from the beach of The Wilderness Lodge. We explored all the nooks and crannies of the resort, from the lobby to the beach to the geyser that erupted each hour. Little Man and I visited the Kid's Activity Center every day and made a craft.
We had an unexpected delay on the monorail ("mawa rawl!") on our first day which left us at a standstill in front of the Magic Kingdom, in just the right place to see the castle and--every few minutes--the train as it chugged by. This was extremely thrilling to our Little Man. We rode the monorail circuit several times and looked at all the sights, including my favorite: the wedding pavilion, where our fairytale started seven years ago. Little Man even got a special "Monorail Captain" sticker, which he wore proudly all day and was then placed in his memory book.
We visited two parks, Epcot and The Magic Kingdom, and Little Man surprised us by requesting to meet his favorite characters.
Husband and I purchased an autograph book for him, thinking we would have the characters sign it during our character dining meals. We would add photos and it would be a nice book for Little Man to look at when we were back home.
While visiting the UK in Epcot, Little Man spotted Winnie the Pooh and Tigger. We stood in line to see them, and I was expecting the same reaction from him as when we visited in the fall.
But Little Man was better prepared this time: he gave Tigger a high five and patted Pooh's nose. He waved and smiled at them, and as we were leaving, Little Man looked wistfully over his shoulder and said, "Bye bye Pooh Ba."
Pooh Bear wasn't the only thing Little Man enjoyed at Epcot. We had a good time riding the "Finding Nemo" ride and watching the fish in the big aquarium. Little Man was content to sit and watch all the colors float by and point out the colors he knew.
He was a fan of the big fountain, and we watched it "dance" to music several times that day. We wandered the worlds, having a fantastic dinner in Japan and purchasing Little Man a (foam) sword in Germany.
At the Magic Kingdom, we watched Mickey and his pals arrive on the shiny red steam engine to open the park. Little Man looked like he might burst--Mickey and a choo choo! How overwhelming. We headed straight for what we knew would be Little Man's favorite rides--the carousel, the Winnie the Pooh ride, and the People Mover. It was on the People Mover that we spotted Stitch. Little Man had seen him a few times at breakfast and had warmed to him over the week, and was insistent that we find him once we got off the ride.
We found Experiment 626 causing trouble in Tomorrowland--he didn't have anyone to play with and was threatening to slide down a banister. Little Man was happy to oblige and we spent quite some time with Stitch, giving fist bumps and hugs.
After a spin around the whole kingdom on the train, we asked Little Man what we wanted to do.
"Mi Mi!" Little Man answered promptly.
"Mickey?" I asked him. I was answered with the grin he gives when he's relieved I understand him.
So we headed to Town Hall where Mickey hangs out during the day. And as we waited in line, I gave my usual refrain of, "It's almost our turn. Remember Mickey is big like Mom and Dada. Are you sure you want to see him?"
"Aye," he answered each time.
Soon it was our turn with the big cheese himself. After a moment of shyness, Little Man opened up to Mickey, giving him a kiss on the nose (cue me melting into a puddle), gave him high fives and had a HUGE smile on his face for our family photograph.
We hadn't been back outside for five minutes when Little Man piped up.
"Donda?" He asked.
"Donald?" Husband asked. There was that grin again.
We found Donald, Goofy, Minnie and Daisy in the new Fantasyland. By the time we reached Minnie, Little Man was confidently walking up to his friends, handing over his autograph book and saying, "Hi Minna! Sign!" He rattled off their names like a pro (we had never heard him call them by name before) and talked about them through the rest of our day at the Magic Kingdom. The memories of Little Man meeting the gang for the first time are priceless, as are the photos.
But the real magic of the vacation? The time we got to spent with each other. Without work, work e-mail, dishes, cooking or laundry. Husband and I got to enjoy each other and enjoy Little Man.
Of course, a little pixie dust doesn't hurt, either.
Saturday, December 8, 2012
The Great Communicator
One night, we went to sleep and all Little Man could do was babble.
The next morning, when we woke up, he had founds his words.
Every time Little Man gains a milestone skill-sitting up, crawling, walking-I think it's my favorite leap. But being able to have a conversation with my kid tops them all.
"Hey, Dada!" He'll say, wandering into the bedroom in the morning. It always makes Husband smile.
"Hi Mom-Mom," he says when he finds me in the kitchen doing chores. "Sit down! Build big choo choo and biiiiig towa!"
He gets especially chatty in the bathtub at night. He tells us about how he pours the water. He tells us stories about Pooh Bear, which might be my favorite stories of all time: "Pooh Ba go up, down, up, down. Pooh Ba fall down! Bump head and nose. Pooh Ba yellow! Ee-oo no tail! Uh oh, where tail? Up there? Noooo. Over there? Noooo." He gesticulates wildly with his hands.
He can count up to ten, although he's a little shaky with four and seven. And his favorite number is 5. He knows nearly all his letters and he flies through his colors: "bluuue! Rey-ed! Yellow! Bla! Pu-puh!" When we go through a dark tunnel on the interstate he declares "uh oh! Nigh-nigh!" He looks for the moon and "'tars".
He is starting to parrot Husband and I, which is both exciting and a little scary. There is nothing quite as humbling as hearing yourself come out of your child's mouth.
But what I love most is getting to hear his thoughts. I don't have to guess any more--he can tell me what he's thinking. And his thoughts always make me smile.
The next morning, when we woke up, he had founds his words.
Every time Little Man gains a milestone skill-sitting up, crawling, walking-I think it's my favorite leap. But being able to have a conversation with my kid tops them all.
"Hey, Dada!" He'll say, wandering into the bedroom in the morning. It always makes Husband smile.
"Hi Mom-Mom," he says when he finds me in the kitchen doing chores. "Sit down! Build big choo choo and biiiiig towa!"
He gets especially chatty in the bathtub at night. He tells us about how he pours the water. He tells us stories about Pooh Bear, which might be my favorite stories of all time: "Pooh Ba go up, down, up, down. Pooh Ba fall down! Bump head and nose. Pooh Ba yellow! Ee-oo no tail! Uh oh, where tail? Up there? Noooo. Over there? Noooo." He gesticulates wildly with his hands.
He can count up to ten, although he's a little shaky with four and seven. And his favorite number is 5. He knows nearly all his letters and he flies through his colors: "bluuue! Rey-ed! Yellow! Bla! Pu-puh!" When we go through a dark tunnel on the interstate he declares "uh oh! Nigh-nigh!" He looks for the moon and "'tars".
He is starting to parrot Husband and I, which is both exciting and a little scary. There is nothing quite as humbling as hearing yourself come out of your child's mouth.
But what I love most is getting to hear his thoughts. I don't have to guess any more--he can tell me what he's thinking. And his thoughts always make me smile.
Wednesday, December 5, 2012
All Aboard the Toddler Train
When Little Man started to show an interest in trains, we thought it was cute. All little boys like trains, right? He got a train table this time last year, and he continues play with it daily (long after Husband and I thought it would hold his interest). He likes the train at the zoo, likes to take a spin around mall on the little indoor train they have, and had a blast during our fall trip on The Great Smoky Mountain Railroad.
But his love for all things locomotive goes deeper than that. He has books, movies and iPhone apps that all center on trains. And I'm not talking about cutesy train shows like Thomas the Train. I'm talking history channel documentaries on the age of steam engines. He sits in front of the TV, riveted.
I bought him some train shirts and a red train sweater, and some train socks. He delights in wearing them all, and is quick to point out and count how many trains he is wearing at any given time.
He is happy to sit at his train table, rearranging tracks and attaching trains together until he has to longest train that can possibly move around his track. When asked what he would like to do any given day, his answer is always the same: "I see big choo choos!"
We encourage him in his passion for trains: Little Man sat at the table and helped me put together 35 foam train ornaments that we sent out for Christmas cards. We take him to train museums and exhibits (even when they are a little over his head--it's amazing how much he absorbs and takes in even when we think he won't understand). We do train crafts and draw train pictures in the bathtub. Of course, we also encourage him to explore other things. He can often be found building a "biiiig towa!" (big tower) with Legos around his train tracks, and he loves arts and crafts of all kinds (especially when it involves glue). He would stay outside 24 hours a day if we let him, and loves romping around the park searching for big sticks.
Of course, if he happens to see a train or hear a telltale whistle, that's just the icing on the cake.
But his love for all things locomotive goes deeper than that. He has books, movies and iPhone apps that all center on trains. And I'm not talking about cutesy train shows like Thomas the Train. I'm talking history channel documentaries on the age of steam engines. He sits in front of the TV, riveted.
I bought him some train shirts and a red train sweater, and some train socks. He delights in wearing them all, and is quick to point out and count how many trains he is wearing at any given time.
He is happy to sit at his train table, rearranging tracks and attaching trains together until he has to longest train that can possibly move around his track. When asked what he would like to do any given day, his answer is always the same: "I see big choo choos!"
We encourage him in his passion for trains: Little Man sat at the table and helped me put together 35 foam train ornaments that we sent out for Christmas cards. We take him to train museums and exhibits (even when they are a little over his head--it's amazing how much he absorbs and takes in even when we think he won't understand). We do train crafts and draw train pictures in the bathtub. Of course, we also encourage him to explore other things. He can often be found building a "biiiig towa!" (big tower) with Legos around his train tracks, and he loves arts and crafts of all kinds (especially when it involves glue). He would stay outside 24 hours a day if we let him, and loves romping around the park searching for big sticks.
Of course, if he happens to see a train or hear a telltale whistle, that's just the icing on the cake.
Saturday, December 1, 2012
Dear Santa
Dear Santa,
Its me again, Little Man. How was your off season? Did you go somewhere warm? I hope you are well rested.
I'm writing to you early this year, because I've moved AGAIN and I want to make sure you know where to find me. The really good news is that now I live a few blocks away from the zoo, and I'm sure they wouldn't mind a reindeer. They have so many animals there, they probably wouldn't even notice. So this year, you can definitely leave one here with me.
I really love to go to the zoo. Mom and I go once a week. I go on lots of adventures in the city, and Mom calls me Urban Toddler. I'm not sure what that means, but I think it's my title. Little Man: Urban Toddler. My Dada has a new title. He's Dada: VP of Operations. That means he's in charge of the people that make things go. Mom doesn't have a new title. She's just Mom, which is kind of how I like her. Dada's like me--he doesn't need to stick to a schedule (I'm really flexible, Santa, and Mom says that makes it easier to take me to Disney World!) but I like Mom to be where she is supposed to be. Maybe I will give her a title so she feels important. Mom: Head Snuggler. Mom: Head Banana Masher. Mom: VP of train table reconstruction.
Dada's new title keeps him very busy. When it was really hot out, he traveled a lot on an airplane. He might have even gone to the North Pole--I'm not sure. I missed him when he was on the airplane, but it was okay because I got to go the airport a lot. I love the airport. Its full of airplanes and stores where you can buy frappucinos and escalators. Those are three things I love a lot.
I've grown up a lot since the last time I wrote you. I'm nearly 2.5, and sometimes people think Mom is joking about my age since I'm so big and strong. I'm wearing clothes meant for a five-year-old. I'm tall enough to ride almost all the rides at The Magic Kingdom! All my friends at Dada's office say I'm very mature for my age. That's because I like to hang out with adults way better than I like I to hang out with kids. There is one kid I really like, though--Baby A, my godparent's new baby. She's really cute and she lets me count her toes. Sometimes we go on lunch dates (our moms go with us, I'm not allowed to push her stroller on my own). Mom says this time next year she'll be big enough to run around with me and I'm going to show her how to climb stairs.
Know what my most favorite thing is right now? TRAINS. I love trains. I have a train table and trains I can push along the track and trains that go by themselves and train books and train videos and train shirts and train socks. Trains are so cool. Are there trains at the North Pole? If there aren't, I suggested building a railroad. It would make it to much easier to get around! I'll leave some of my books out for you to look at to get some ideas.
Mom and Dada are working really hard to teach me that Christmas isn't about presents under the tree. They say that the really fun part of the holiday is doing things as a family--and we've done a lot! We went and saw a giant Christmas tree and the lights on it were so cool. We're going to Disney World soon so Mom can see the castle all dressed up in lights. I helped Mom make train Christmas cards to send out to all of our friends. That was super fun--I got to sit in her lap and supervise her. She needs my help to keep from getting too distracted.
But Mom and Dada told me that it was okay to have a few things on my wish list, so here they are: more books about trains, and some about firetrucks and airplanes too. I would really like more duplo blocks--if I had more I could build my towers even higher! Don't worry, I have a step stool to climb on if I need to reach up. I would really like my very own iPhone, since I know how to work Mom's iPhone super well. But she says I have to wait until I have someone to call, and Baby A can't sit up yet. But maybe next year.
Have a good season, Santa. I'll leave coke and oreos out for you, and those train books, too. Oh, and a map of the zoo. The giraffes probably wouldn't mind sharing with a reindeer. Just FYI.
Hugs and babykisses,
Little Man
Its me again, Little Man. How was your off season? Did you go somewhere warm? I hope you are well rested.
I'm writing to you early this year, because I've moved AGAIN and I want to make sure you know where to find me. The really good news is that now I live a few blocks away from the zoo, and I'm sure they wouldn't mind a reindeer. They have so many animals there, they probably wouldn't even notice. So this year, you can definitely leave one here with me.
I really love to go to the zoo. Mom and I go once a week. I go on lots of adventures in the city, and Mom calls me Urban Toddler. I'm not sure what that means, but I think it's my title. Little Man: Urban Toddler. My Dada has a new title. He's Dada: VP of Operations. That means he's in charge of the people that make things go. Mom doesn't have a new title. She's just Mom, which is kind of how I like her. Dada's like me--he doesn't need to stick to a schedule (I'm really flexible, Santa, and Mom says that makes it easier to take me to Disney World!) but I like Mom to be where she is supposed to be. Maybe I will give her a title so she feels important. Mom: Head Snuggler. Mom: Head Banana Masher. Mom: VP of train table reconstruction.
Dada's new title keeps him very busy. When it was really hot out, he traveled a lot on an airplane. He might have even gone to the North Pole--I'm not sure. I missed him when he was on the airplane, but it was okay because I got to go the airport a lot. I love the airport. Its full of airplanes and stores where you can buy frappucinos and escalators. Those are three things I love a lot.
I've grown up a lot since the last time I wrote you. I'm nearly 2.5, and sometimes people think Mom is joking about my age since I'm so big and strong. I'm wearing clothes meant for a five-year-old. I'm tall enough to ride almost all the rides at The Magic Kingdom! All my friends at Dada's office say I'm very mature for my age. That's because I like to hang out with adults way better than I like I to hang out with kids. There is one kid I really like, though--Baby A, my godparent's new baby. She's really cute and she lets me count her toes. Sometimes we go on lunch dates (our moms go with us, I'm not allowed to push her stroller on my own). Mom says this time next year she'll be big enough to run around with me and I'm going to show her how to climb stairs.
Know what my most favorite thing is right now? TRAINS. I love trains. I have a train table and trains I can push along the track and trains that go by themselves and train books and train videos and train shirts and train socks. Trains are so cool. Are there trains at the North Pole? If there aren't, I suggested building a railroad. It would make it to much easier to get around! I'll leave some of my books out for you to look at to get some ideas.
Mom and Dada are working really hard to teach me that Christmas isn't about presents under the tree. They say that the really fun part of the holiday is doing things as a family--and we've done a lot! We went and saw a giant Christmas tree and the lights on it were so cool. We're going to Disney World soon so Mom can see the castle all dressed up in lights. I helped Mom make train Christmas cards to send out to all of our friends. That was super fun--I got to sit in her lap and supervise her. She needs my help to keep from getting too distracted.
But Mom and Dada told me that it was okay to have a few things on my wish list, so here they are: more books about trains, and some about firetrucks and airplanes too. I would really like more duplo blocks--if I had more I could build my towers even higher! Don't worry, I have a step stool to climb on if I need to reach up. I would really like my very own iPhone, since I know how to work Mom's iPhone super well. But she says I have to wait until I have someone to call, and Baby A can't sit up yet. But maybe next year.
Have a good season, Santa. I'll leave coke and oreos out for you, and those train books, too. Oh, and a map of the zoo. The giraffes probably wouldn't mind sharing with a reindeer. Just FYI.
Hugs and babykisses,
Little Man
Tuesday, November 20, 2012
How do you Explain "Thankful" to a Toddler?
In the evening, I often do "thankfuls" with Little Man. Over dinner, or in the bath, or when we're rocking in the dark before bed, I ask him about what made him happy that day. I talk to him about family members and friends we've seen recently and why we were glad to spend time with them. Mostly, it's me talking and him adding babble commentary, but it's planting a seed.
Thankful is a pretty abstract concept. How do you explain it to a toddler?
I thought a lot about it over the past month. And the only answer I could come up with was...well, you can't.
But you can SHOW them. As a mom, I can show Little Man that I'm thankful for his Dada by being excited when Husband comes home after a day at work. We show we're thankful to his music teacher and to the nice lady at the grocery store who gives him stickers by giving them a wave when we leave (Little Man doesn't have a word for "thank you" yet). When he has fun experiences, we emphasize what a lucky little guy he is and how happy we are to be doing things as a family.
But this November, I wanted to really focus on the concept in a toddler friendly way. So we temporarily closed his art exhibit in his bedroom where he displays all his crafty creations and made a "thankful" wall. All month long we stuck things on the wall. Little Man often goes to the wall and points to something we've pinned up, giving us lots of opportunities to talk about things we are thankful for.
Some of the things on our thankful wall:
--The brochure from a train museum we visited earlier this month. We are VERY thankful for trains.
--Winnie the Pooh stickers, symbolizing both Pooh and his gentle stories and Little Man's love for stickers.
--The "I voted" sticker from the presidential election, reminding us to be thankful for the freedoms we have.
--The wrapping from a Gerber Puff container. Husband laughed when I stuck this to the wall, but I am thankful for puffs. They are the only non-mashed food my kid will eat. I should buy stock in them.
--Pictures of his favorite family members, which were immediately swiped.
I really enjoyed that Little Man took down the photos of his family. I watched him wander around the house, talking to the Mamaw in the picture and showing the Papaw in the picture the trucks outside. The photo of Nana got a tour of his bookshelf and the photo of Husband and myself was placed in his wagon and pulled around. The photo of his godparents with Winnie the Pooh, taken when Husband and I got married, got a special place on honor on his train table. Finally Little Man stashed them in his bed with his favorite stuffed animal.
Maybe he gets the concept better than I thought.
Thankful is a pretty abstract concept. How do you explain it to a toddler?
I thought a lot about it over the past month. And the only answer I could come up with was...well, you can't.
But you can SHOW them. As a mom, I can show Little Man that I'm thankful for his Dada by being excited when Husband comes home after a day at work. We show we're thankful to his music teacher and to the nice lady at the grocery store who gives him stickers by giving them a wave when we leave (Little Man doesn't have a word for "thank you" yet). When he has fun experiences, we emphasize what a lucky little guy he is and how happy we are to be doing things as a family.
But this November, I wanted to really focus on the concept in a toddler friendly way. So we temporarily closed his art exhibit in his bedroom where he displays all his crafty creations and made a "thankful" wall. All month long we stuck things on the wall. Little Man often goes to the wall and points to something we've pinned up, giving us lots of opportunities to talk about things we are thankful for.
Some of the things on our thankful wall:
--The brochure from a train museum we visited earlier this month. We are VERY thankful for trains.
--Winnie the Pooh stickers, symbolizing both Pooh and his gentle stories and Little Man's love for stickers.
--The "I voted" sticker from the presidential election, reminding us to be thankful for the freedoms we have.
--The wrapping from a Gerber Puff container. Husband laughed when I stuck this to the wall, but I am thankful for puffs. They are the only non-mashed food my kid will eat. I should buy stock in them.
--Pictures of his favorite family members, which were immediately swiped.
I really enjoyed that Little Man took down the photos of his family. I watched him wander around the house, talking to the Mamaw in the picture and showing the Papaw in the picture the trucks outside. The photo of Nana got a tour of his bookshelf and the photo of Husband and myself was placed in his wagon and pulled around. The photo of his godparents with Winnie the Pooh, taken when Husband and I got married, got a special place on honor on his train table. Finally Little Man stashed them in his bed with his favorite stuffed animal.
Maybe he gets the concept better than I thought.
Wednesday, October 31, 2012
Halloween Happenings
This is Little Man's third Halloween. For his very first spooky holiday, he was still a squish baby and had no idea what was going on--except that he did NOT care for the pumpkin costume I squeezed him into. We did not go trick-or-treating for his first Halloween, but we did attend a Halloween puppet show at the theater where Husband ran the front of house. Little Man dressed up as his Daddy--little blue jeans, collared shirt, tiny house manager flashlight. He was quite a hit, and it was quite enough Halloween excitement for a three-month-old.
Last year, his second Halloween, Little Man continued his preference of not being put in an adorable costume. And so he dressed up as Charlie Brown, which suited his little curl of hair and his round little face perfectly. We ventured out with friends, trick-or-treating around their neighborhood.
But this year, Little Man really started to get into the action.
He doesn't like Jack O Lanterns, so I've spent the month avoiding creepily cut pumpkins all over town. We sought out fall activities rather than Halloween ones. We went to "Boo at the Zoo", where the highlight was the trick-or-treat train. We continued our tradition of going to the Stone Mountain Pumpkin Festival, adding the train ride to our adventure this year. Little Man enjoyed that train ride so much that we took a road trip to North Carolina last weekend to go on the "Great Pumpkin" train--a nice long ride on a real train out to a pumpkin patch where there were tractor rides, music, marshmallows to roast and a mock street where kids could trick or treat. It was an awesome day, and something I think we'll find ourselves doing next fall.
(Are you seeing a pattern here with our family outings? They all involve trains. Little Man is obsessed with trains.)
It was also where we learned that Little Man got a major thrill out of trick-or- treating. We weren't planning on going this year, but after seeing how much he loved the trick-or-treat test run, we decided to go for it.
He still hates "costumy" costumes, so I found a Mickey Mouse hoodie at Target (complete with ears on the hood!). Paired with black sweatpants and his little felt Halloween treat bag, he was the cutest Mickey our neighborhood had ever seen. Once he realized he got to knock on doors and pick out something to put in his bag, his eyes lit up and he was urging Husband and I on during our trek out this evening.
He loves being outside in the evening as the sun goes down, and could have easily done several more laps around our neighborhood if we had let him. He trucked up and down hills, stomped through the leaves, and practiced being very polite--only picking out one piece of candy and waving a "thank you!" afterwards, since he doesn't have those words yet. He especially liked the houses that had a few stairs to climb up.
And even though he won't eat it, he was very excited to come home and dump out his haul of candy on the table. He surveyed it proudly, picking out all the lollipops and putting them to the side. They make excellent sticks to bang on the table. And the boxes of nerds and milkduds make great shakers.
And so we'll pack away our friendly Halloween decorations until next year. I can't wait to see what Little Man thinks of the fall festivities a year from now--or if he'll have more of an opinion on a costume besides "no!".
Last year, his second Halloween, Little Man continued his preference of not being put in an adorable costume. And so he dressed up as Charlie Brown, which suited his little curl of hair and his round little face perfectly. We ventured out with friends, trick-or-treating around their neighborhood.
But this year, Little Man really started to get into the action.
He doesn't like Jack O Lanterns, so I've spent the month avoiding creepily cut pumpkins all over town. We sought out fall activities rather than Halloween ones. We went to "Boo at the Zoo", where the highlight was the trick-or-treat train. We continued our tradition of going to the Stone Mountain Pumpkin Festival, adding the train ride to our adventure this year. Little Man enjoyed that train ride so much that we took a road trip to North Carolina last weekend to go on the "Great Pumpkin" train--a nice long ride on a real train out to a pumpkin patch where there were tractor rides, music, marshmallows to roast and a mock street where kids could trick or treat. It was an awesome day, and something I think we'll find ourselves doing next fall.
(Are you seeing a pattern here with our family outings? They all involve trains. Little Man is obsessed with trains.)
It was also where we learned that Little Man got a major thrill out of trick-or- treating. We weren't planning on going this year, but after seeing how much he loved the trick-or-treat test run, we decided to go for it.
He still hates "costumy" costumes, so I found a Mickey Mouse hoodie at Target (complete with ears on the hood!). Paired with black sweatpants and his little felt Halloween treat bag, he was the cutest Mickey our neighborhood had ever seen. Once he realized he got to knock on doors and pick out something to put in his bag, his eyes lit up and he was urging Husband and I on during our trek out this evening.
He loves being outside in the evening as the sun goes down, and could have easily done several more laps around our neighborhood if we had let him. He trucked up and down hills, stomped through the leaves, and practiced being very polite--only picking out one piece of candy and waving a "thank you!" afterwards, since he doesn't have those words yet. He especially liked the houses that had a few stairs to climb up.
And even though he won't eat it, he was very excited to come home and dump out his haul of candy on the table. He surveyed it proudly, picking out all the lollipops and putting them to the side. They make excellent sticks to bang on the table. And the boxes of nerds and milkduds make great shakers.
And so we'll pack away our friendly Halloween decorations until next year. I can't wait to see what Little Man thinks of the fall festivities a year from now--or if he'll have more of an opinion on a costume besides "no!".
Thursday, October 25, 2012
Strollers, Boundaries and Bedtime: Things a Little Man Pushes
Little Man is growing up.
And what happens when a toddler, such as Little Man is, grows up?
Things get pushed.
And the three things that Little Man likes to push most are his stroller, his boundaries, and his bedtime.
He has reached the age where riding in his stroller is no longer an absolute necessity. He likes to get out and walk around and explore his surroundings in a more hands-on fashion. But he still gets tired on long treks, so the stroller comes with us on occasion. And on those occasions, pushing his stroller (all by himself, help from Mom and Dad is not acceptable) becomes more interesting that anywhere we could possibly be. Disney World? Wants to push his stroller. The zoo? Wants to push his stroller. Festivals, parks and gardens? You guessed it--wants to push his stroller. He has figured out how to disengage the wheel lock, and so when I get in the shower, I often find him pushing his stroller around the house, filled with his toys.
And it's not limited to strollers--it can be anything with wheels. Shopping carts, wagons, coolers full of frozen groceries: they all require pushing.
And then there's bedtime. Little Man is particularly tricky about pushing his bedtime. We've reached the phase where we get requests for one more bottle. He gets a truly pathetic look on his face, sad baby lip out and all, and says "Ba-ba? Ba-ba?" in a voice that would suggest he hadn't eaten in a week. And when we tell him we're on the last book before lullabys and snuggles, he'll let us get to nearly the last page, push that one away and request another "last book".
And then, every now and then, once we think he's all tucked in and dreaming, we'll hear the sound of little footsteps and Little Man will burst into our room, smiling his most handsome baby smile and holding Scout by the ear. It's hard to be mad at him because he always looks so happy to see us.
And lastly...boundaries. Oh, the boundaries Little Man has started to push. I can see it in his face: "does Mom really mean it when she says, 'stop'? How many times will she say it before she actually makes me stop?"
The answer is usually one time. And Little Man knows that. So when he's flinging train tracks off his table and over his shoulder, and I ask him to stop, he begins to fling faster and faster because he knows I'm coming to remove him from the situation. He doesn't disobey often, but when he does, he does it quickly--he's smart enough to know what he's doing is wrong.
I try to use the word "no" only when what he is doing is absolutely not an option. Things that he is absolutely not allowed to do include:
--Let go of my hand in or near the street.
--Throw trains/rocks/books at anyone.
--Stick his entire arm inside the bushes that line our local playground.
--Climb in the fountain. Any fountain.
--Jump on the couch.
--Be in the kitchen when the oven door is open.
--Water my plant with his milk.
Otherwise I try to suggest another way of getting the result he desires.
But most of the time, the boundaries he pushes are exploratory--albeit exasperating--and I know he's not trying to annoy me personally. Like today, when he brought me his foaming baby bath wash out of his bathroom. That's when I realized he had it all over him--on his face, his legs, and his hair.
"Wash," he told me, then squeezed some into his hands and washed his belly. With his shirt on.
What's a mother to do, other than to strip him down and plunk him in the tub?
Eventually he'll be able to think through things in his mind, and answer questions like, "what happens if I take everything out of the fridge and relocate it to my bathroom cabinet?" without actually having to do it.
Until then, Little Man, keep on pushing.
And what happens when a toddler, such as Little Man is, grows up?
Things get pushed.
And the three things that Little Man likes to push most are his stroller, his boundaries, and his bedtime.
He has reached the age where riding in his stroller is no longer an absolute necessity. He likes to get out and walk around and explore his surroundings in a more hands-on fashion. But he still gets tired on long treks, so the stroller comes with us on occasion. And on those occasions, pushing his stroller (all by himself, help from Mom and Dad is not acceptable) becomes more interesting that anywhere we could possibly be. Disney World? Wants to push his stroller. The zoo? Wants to push his stroller. Festivals, parks and gardens? You guessed it--wants to push his stroller. He has figured out how to disengage the wheel lock, and so when I get in the shower, I often find him pushing his stroller around the house, filled with his toys.
And it's not limited to strollers--it can be anything with wheels. Shopping carts, wagons, coolers full of frozen groceries: they all require pushing.
And then there's bedtime. Little Man is particularly tricky about pushing his bedtime. We've reached the phase where we get requests for one more bottle. He gets a truly pathetic look on his face, sad baby lip out and all, and says "Ba-ba? Ba-ba?" in a voice that would suggest he hadn't eaten in a week. And when we tell him we're on the last book before lullabys and snuggles, he'll let us get to nearly the last page, push that one away and request another "last book".
And then, every now and then, once we think he's all tucked in and dreaming, we'll hear the sound of little footsteps and Little Man will burst into our room, smiling his most handsome baby smile and holding Scout by the ear. It's hard to be mad at him because he always looks so happy to see us.
And lastly...boundaries. Oh, the boundaries Little Man has started to push. I can see it in his face: "does Mom really mean it when she says, 'stop'? How many times will she say it before she actually makes me stop?"
The answer is usually one time. And Little Man knows that. So when he's flinging train tracks off his table and over his shoulder, and I ask him to stop, he begins to fling faster and faster because he knows I'm coming to remove him from the situation. He doesn't disobey often, but when he does, he does it quickly--he's smart enough to know what he's doing is wrong.
I try to use the word "no" only when what he is doing is absolutely not an option. Things that he is absolutely not allowed to do include:
--Let go of my hand in or near the street.
--Throw trains/rocks/books at anyone.
--Stick his entire arm inside the bushes that line our local playground.
--Climb in the fountain. Any fountain.
--Jump on the couch.
--Be in the kitchen when the oven door is open.
--Water my plant with his milk.
Otherwise I try to suggest another way of getting the result he desires.
But most of the time, the boundaries he pushes are exploratory--albeit exasperating--and I know he's not trying to annoy me personally. Like today, when he brought me his foaming baby bath wash out of his bathroom. That's when I realized he had it all over him--on his face, his legs, and his hair.
"Wash," he told me, then squeezed some into his hands and washed his belly. With his shirt on.
What's a mother to do, other than to strip him down and plunk him in the tub?
Eventually he'll be able to think through things in his mind, and answer questions like, "what happens if I take everything out of the fridge and relocate it to my bathroom cabinet?" without actually having to do it.
Until then, Little Man, keep on pushing.
Tuesday, October 23, 2012
A Disney Mini-Break: Mother-Baby Day at The Magic Kingdom
One of the perks of Husband's new job is that he occasionally takes business trips to Tampa, allowing his little family to tag along and spend some time at the happiest place on earth.
Little Man and I joined him on just such a trip at the end of September. We are especially spoiled this year, because in addition to our fall Disney mini-break, we'll be returning in December for our annual visit.
For this trip, Little Man and I were on our own for most of the trip while Husband worked. I was a little apprehensive about handling a toddler in the parks on my own, but Little Man handled the crowds, attractions and change in schedule like a champ.
We arrived at Disney's All Star Sports Resort around 7 AM, having driven all night. Husband and I almost always choose to take the seven hour drive through the night, allowing Little Man to sleep and wake up in a good mood.
A view of our room, right under the Bulldogs sign!
Little Man loved the larger than life football-themed area we stayed in.
"Mousekeeping" made Little Man's BFF, Scout, a pal to hang out with
Little Man and I spent our first day exploring our awesome resort. Little Man couldn't get over the huge footballs and helmets decorating the resort. Right outside our room was a football field that provided a great place to run and goof off.
After an epic nap, Little Man and I hit Downtown Disney. He was on his best behavior, sitting in my lap at Planet Hollywood while I ate and walking next to the stroller while we meandered in and out of all the shops. Little Man's favorite shop was the Lego Store, which offered big Lego building tables and little blocks in every shape, size and color. We spent a lot of time creating towers and ramps to drive little Lego cars down.
As the sun went down and the air cooled off, the trees in Downtown Disney lit up with twinkle lights, and Little Man relished being outside past his bedtime. He darted from window to window, delighting in recognizing Mickey, Goofy, Pooh and all his friends from TV and stories.
I couldn't wait for him to see them in "real life" the next day when we went to The Magic Kingdom.
We're here! We're here!
Little Man and I were up early the next day and caught one of the first buses to The Magic Kingdom. Armed with my backpack and no stroller (yes, I braved the morning with no stroller!) we arrived in time for the opening of the park, when the train pulls up to the entrance of the park carrying Mickey and all his friends.
When Little Man heard the train whistle announcing its arrival, he clapped with delight. When he realized who was riding the train, his whole little body wriggled with excitement. When he saw Mickey for the first time--a real, big Mickey right there in front of him--I thought he was going to fall to pieces. He grinned and waved and pointed, exclaiming to me the whole time: "Mom! Whoa! Whoa! WOW!"
Now, I mentioned before that I didn't bring a stroller with me. Before you have me committed, hear me out. I had a plan. After struggling to get the stroller and my toddler on the bus alone the day before, and Little Man walking more than riding around Downtown Disney, I opted to spend the morning stroller free and rent one when we returned later that afternoon. I knew in the morning there were certain places I wanted to hit in The Magic Kingdom, and I could reach all of them by riding the train to and from the front of the park.
We gazed down Main Street, USA for a few moments before climbing on the train, which chugs around the perimeter of Magic Kingdom.
Little Man surveyed his kingdom with great interest.
My goal for this mother-baby trip to Magic Kingdom was simple: relax. If you've ever been to Disney with a toddler, you know it's not relaxing. But I wanted our day to be about being together, and watching him experience the joys that come along with seeing Magic Kingdom through the eyes of a child. I knew there were a few things I particularly wanted Little Man to experience while we were in Magic Kingdom, but overall I left it up to him--if he liked something, we stayed there as long as he wanted to.
This is how I ended up riding Dumbo seven times in a row.
Oh, how he loved Dumbo. Since we got there so early, there was no line. We just kept hopping off and getting back in the que. We rode it so many times that Little Man got a special Dumbo sticker.
We rode the spinning teacups, which were not his favorite and that was more than fine with me. We rode Prince Charming's Regal Carousel twice, and the Peter Pan ride once. We spent a lot of time playing in the interactive que for the Winnie the Pooh ride, but we didn't ride that particular one--we were saving it for our December trip with Husband since the silly old bear is such a favorite.
After a long nap in our resort, and a rainstorm, we headed back into the park. By this time, Little Man was a pro at the bus and insisted on sitting by himself. He was an excellent bus rider: sat on his bottom, holding the pole and smiling at everyone who went past him.
Back in the park we grabbed a stroller and ventured off to see what the kingdom had to offer besides Fantasyland. We caught the stage show, watching Mickey and his pals dance and sing on the castle.
"Dreams Come True!"
We rode the riverboat, the Tomorrowland Transit Authority Peoplemover, bypassed the racecars to do with Husband, and found ourselves back in Fantasyland. We took in the castle for a few minutes while we had a drink in the shade.
We rode Dumbo. Again.
(That's 8 times, for you guys keeping count).
The best thing about getting sea-sick on the flying elephant was the view you could see of the soon-to-be-opened New Fantasyland--which will be up and running when we return in December.
The Beast's Castle
But the highlight of our day at Magic Kingdom was, easily, when Little Man spotted Winnie the Pooh and Tigger outside their ride, meeting guests.
"Mom!" He said. "Mom! Mom!" He pointed as though he couldn't believe his eyes.
"Do you want to meet them?" I asked. I was hesitant after the stealth attack Minnie Mouse put on him last year, traumatizing him.
"Yes, yes," Little Man babbled.
So we got in line. Every time another child left and we got closer, I'd repeat my questions.
"Are you sure you want to say hi to Pooh and Tigger?"
"Yes, yes."
Finally it was our turn. I snagged the cast member who hung out in Hundred Acre Wood and let her know Little Man was a little hesitant. Pooh got down on one knee to wave at him, and while Little Man gripped me tightly through the whole experience, he grinned and waved and talked away to them. The cast member caught a great photo of us, and whenever Little Man sees it on my desktop, he gets excited and we talk about the day he got to meet Pooh and Tigger.
The last ride we went on was It's A Small World. I thought we needed to go on it, since it's a classic. We boarded the little boat and off we went into the world of singing, happy little people. I had only been on It's A Small World once before, and I had forgotten how incredibly creepy that ride is. I don't think it will be a repeat in December.
One last time around the park on the train, then we said "see you real soon!" and exited to the very best part of the day--Papa Bear waiting outside the gates to take us to dinner. Little Man flew to him, chattering about his day, and then got to take his first monorail ride of the trip.
The next day we were up and at 'em again early to head to Disney's Hollywood Studios--only this time, Husband got to join us. We started our day at a character breakfast where Little Man was thrilled to wave at Donald and Goofy, as long as they stayed on the other side of the table. He still didn't want to go anywhere near Minnie Mouse.
We got to watch Disney Junior Live, a puppet show full of Little Man's favorite characters from his morning TV shows. He also loved the larger than life "Honey I shrunk the Kids" playground. He was very brave and climbed all over by himself, with one of us behind him, hurrying to keep up. And the highlight of the day was the "Lights, Motors, Action" car stunt show that Husband had been dying to share with Little Man since the moment we found out we were having a son.
We returned from our mini-break exhausted (and I got sick, boo!) but it was worth every minute. I know I'm a stay-at-home-mom, but that doesn't stop me from having commitments and things I have to get done around the house. Going to Disney allows me to focus solely on Little Man, to listen to everything he has to say and watch him play and love life. I can't wait to go back for our family vacation in a couple of months and be able to focus all my attention on not only Little Man but my husband as well. And that is well worth the price of admission.
Little Man and I joined him on just such a trip at the end of September. We are especially spoiled this year, because in addition to our fall Disney mini-break, we'll be returning in December for our annual visit.
For this trip, Little Man and I were on our own for most of the trip while Husband worked. I was a little apprehensive about handling a toddler in the parks on my own, but Little Man handled the crowds, attractions and change in schedule like a champ.
We arrived at Disney's All Star Sports Resort around 7 AM, having driven all night. Husband and I almost always choose to take the seven hour drive through the night, allowing Little Man to sleep and wake up in a good mood.
Little Man and I spent our first day exploring our awesome resort. Little Man couldn't get over the huge footballs and helmets decorating the resort. Right outside our room was a football field that provided a great place to run and goof off.
After an epic nap, Little Man and I hit Downtown Disney. He was on his best behavior, sitting in my lap at Planet Hollywood while I ate and walking next to the stroller while we meandered in and out of all the shops. Little Man's favorite shop was the Lego Store, which offered big Lego building tables and little blocks in every shape, size and color. We spent a lot of time creating towers and ramps to drive little Lego cars down.
As the sun went down and the air cooled off, the trees in Downtown Disney lit up with twinkle lights, and Little Man relished being outside past his bedtime. He darted from window to window, delighting in recognizing Mickey, Goofy, Pooh and all his friends from TV and stories.
I couldn't wait for him to see them in "real life" the next day when we went to The Magic Kingdom.
Little Man and I were up early the next day and caught one of the first buses to The Magic Kingdom. Armed with my backpack and no stroller (yes, I braved the morning with no stroller!) we arrived in time for the opening of the park, when the train pulls up to the entrance of the park carrying Mickey and all his friends.
When Little Man heard the train whistle announcing its arrival, he clapped with delight. When he realized who was riding the train, his whole little body wriggled with excitement. When he saw Mickey for the first time--a real, big Mickey right there in front of him--I thought he was going to fall to pieces. He grinned and waved and pointed, exclaiming to me the whole time: "Mom! Whoa! Whoa! WOW!"
Now, I mentioned before that I didn't bring a stroller with me. Before you have me committed, hear me out. I had a plan. After struggling to get the stroller and my toddler on the bus alone the day before, and Little Man walking more than riding around Downtown Disney, I opted to spend the morning stroller free and rent one when we returned later that afternoon. I knew in the morning there were certain places I wanted to hit in The Magic Kingdom, and I could reach all of them by riding the train to and from the front of the park.
We gazed down Main Street, USA for a few moments before climbing on the train, which chugs around the perimeter of Magic Kingdom.
My goal for this mother-baby trip to Magic Kingdom was simple: relax. If you've ever been to Disney with a toddler, you know it's not relaxing. But I wanted our day to be about being together, and watching him experience the joys that come along with seeing Magic Kingdom through the eyes of a child. I knew there were a few things I particularly wanted Little Man to experience while we were in Magic Kingdom, but overall I left it up to him--if he liked something, we stayed there as long as he wanted to.
This is how I ended up riding Dumbo seven times in a row.
Oh, how he loved Dumbo. Since we got there so early, there was no line. We just kept hopping off and getting back in the que. We rode it so many times that Little Man got a special Dumbo sticker.
We rode the spinning teacups, which were not his favorite and that was more than fine with me. We rode Prince Charming's Regal Carousel twice, and the Peter Pan ride once. We spent a lot of time playing in the interactive que for the Winnie the Pooh ride, but we didn't ride that particular one--we were saving it for our December trip with Husband since the silly old bear is such a favorite.
After a long nap in our resort, and a rainstorm, we headed back into the park. By this time, Little Man was a pro at the bus and insisted on sitting by himself. He was an excellent bus rider: sat on his bottom, holding the pole and smiling at everyone who went past him.
Back in the park we grabbed a stroller and ventured off to see what the kingdom had to offer besides Fantasyland. We caught the stage show, watching Mickey and his pals dance and sing on the castle.
We rode the riverboat, the Tomorrowland Transit Authority Peoplemover, bypassed the racecars to do with Husband, and found ourselves back in Fantasyland. We took in the castle for a few minutes while we had a drink in the shade.
We rode Dumbo. Again.
(That's 8 times, for you guys keeping count).
The best thing about getting sea-sick on the flying elephant was the view you could see of the soon-to-be-opened New Fantasyland--which will be up and running when we return in December.
But the highlight of our day at Magic Kingdom was, easily, when Little Man spotted Winnie the Pooh and Tigger outside their ride, meeting guests.
"Mom!" He said. "Mom! Mom!" He pointed as though he couldn't believe his eyes.
"Do you want to meet them?" I asked. I was hesitant after the stealth attack Minnie Mouse put on him last year, traumatizing him.
"Yes, yes," Little Man babbled.
So we got in line. Every time another child left and we got closer, I'd repeat my questions.
"Are you sure you want to say hi to Pooh and Tigger?"
"Yes, yes."
Finally it was our turn. I snagged the cast member who hung out in Hundred Acre Wood and let her know Little Man was a little hesitant. Pooh got down on one knee to wave at him, and while Little Man gripped me tightly through the whole experience, he grinned and waved and talked away to them. The cast member caught a great photo of us, and whenever Little Man sees it on my desktop, he gets excited and we talk about the day he got to meet Pooh and Tigger.
The last ride we went on was It's A Small World. I thought we needed to go on it, since it's a classic. We boarded the little boat and off we went into the world of singing, happy little people. I had only been on It's A Small World once before, and I had forgotten how incredibly creepy that ride is. I don't think it will be a repeat in December.
One last time around the park on the train, then we said "see you real soon!" and exited to the very best part of the day--Papa Bear waiting outside the gates to take us to dinner. Little Man flew to him, chattering about his day, and then got to take his first monorail ride of the trip.
The next day we were up and at 'em again early to head to Disney's Hollywood Studios--only this time, Husband got to join us. We started our day at a character breakfast where Little Man was thrilled to wave at Donald and Goofy, as long as they stayed on the other side of the table. He still didn't want to go anywhere near Minnie Mouse.
We got to watch Disney Junior Live, a puppet show full of Little Man's favorite characters from his morning TV shows. He also loved the larger than life "Honey I shrunk the Kids" playground. He was very brave and climbed all over by himself, with one of us behind him, hurrying to keep up. And the highlight of the day was the "Lights, Motors, Action" car stunt show that Husband had been dying to share with Little Man since the moment we found out we were having a son.
We returned from our mini-break exhausted (and I got sick, boo!) but it was worth every minute. I know I'm a stay-at-home-mom, but that doesn't stop me from having commitments and things I have to get done around the house. Going to Disney allows me to focus solely on Little Man, to listen to everything he has to say and watch him play and love life. I can't wait to go back for our family vacation in a couple of months and be able to focus all my attention on not only Little Man but my husband as well. And that is well worth the price of admission.
Tuesday, October 16, 2012
Busy Two-Year-Old, Busy Mama
I am ashamed to say that it has been two months since I have picked up the virtual pen and blogged about the goings-on of Little Man. But I have an excellent, legimate reason.
Two-year-olds are busy little creatures.
And when the two-year-old boy is busy, so is the mom. Add to that uber-active toddler the fact that Husband's work required him to be travelling for most of the summer, and you get one frazzled Mama Bear.
But we're settling into autumn now and things are starting to even out: Husband gets to enjoy the perks of working across the street from where he lives, and Little Man and I are finding a weekly schedule full of classes, playdates and other exciting adventures.
Little Man has really grown up in the past two months. He is way more independent and outgoing than he was when we moved back to the city 6 months ago. He becomes comfortable in new surroundings far more quickly, and--while I would still consider him an introvert around new people and places--has made great strides in his socialibility.
He communicates very well with us--every day we hear new words from him. His favorite words continue to be "uh-oh" and "stuck" but he's added to his vocabulary with words like "siren", "happy", "tractor", outside", along with most of his letters and a few numbers (more on that soon!). We never taught him baby signs, but he made up a few of his own: he signals that he's "all done" bu holding his hands out in front of him, and he signs "train" by pulling a pretend train whistle. When he's asking permission to go somewhere, he points and makes an exaggerated walking motion, which always cracks me up.
He's very empathetic, and gets worried about other little people in his surroundings who cry or get a boo-boo. He's especially interested in babies, and he has a new one to be excited about--Godmother & Godfather welcomed Baby A into the world in late August. She was a month early (surprise!) but she is fantastic. To say Little Man adores her would be an understatement. He especially likes to count her toes.
Oh, and he learned how to open the fridge. That's been fun.
I'm excited to catch up on all the adventure's we've had this summer (Disney World! The zoo!) and to do a better job of staying on top of the adventures to come (a big train ride! Another trip to Disney!)
Two-year-olds are busy little creatures.
And when the two-year-old boy is busy, so is the mom. Add to that uber-active toddler the fact that Husband's work required him to be travelling for most of the summer, and you get one frazzled Mama Bear.
But we're settling into autumn now and things are starting to even out: Husband gets to enjoy the perks of working across the street from where he lives, and Little Man and I are finding a weekly schedule full of classes, playdates and other exciting adventures.
Little Man has really grown up in the past two months. He is way more independent and outgoing than he was when we moved back to the city 6 months ago. He becomes comfortable in new surroundings far more quickly, and--while I would still consider him an introvert around new people and places--has made great strides in his socialibility.
He communicates very well with us--every day we hear new words from him. His favorite words continue to be "uh-oh" and "stuck" but he's added to his vocabulary with words like "siren", "happy", "tractor", outside", along with most of his letters and a few numbers (more on that soon!). We never taught him baby signs, but he made up a few of his own: he signals that he's "all done" bu holding his hands out in front of him, and he signs "train" by pulling a pretend train whistle. When he's asking permission to go somewhere, he points and makes an exaggerated walking motion, which always cracks me up.
He's very empathetic, and gets worried about other little people in his surroundings who cry or get a boo-boo. He's especially interested in babies, and he has a new one to be excited about--Godmother & Godfather welcomed Baby A into the world in late August. She was a month early (surprise!) but she is fantastic. To say Little Man adores her would be an understatement. He especially likes to count her toes.
Oh, and he learned how to open the fridge. That's been fun.
I'm excited to catch up on all the adventure's we've had this summer (Disney World! The zoo!) and to do a better job of staying on top of the adventures to come (a big train ride! Another trip to Disney!)
Wednesday, August 15, 2012
The Terrific Twos
When Little Man turned two a few weeks ago, we heard it from everyone: "Oh, here come the terrible twos!"
I ignored everyone who said it. One, I think the threes are way more difficult--not old enough to be a big kid but too old to be a baby can be very frustrating for little people. Two, if you think it's going to be bad, it's going to be bad. Expectation is everything.
And I expect that this year is going to be terrific. Do think it's going to be perfect? Of course not. No one is perfect, including my little angel of a boy. He's certainly not perfect when he starts throwing a fit in the hallway because he wants me to carry him but my arms are full of groceries. Or when we have to pick up toys, and instead he throws all his toys on the ground (followed by himself). And it's easy for me to get aggravated and frustrated in those situations. When I do, I remind myself that I'm the grown up.
And because I am the grown up, I can figure out what the trigger to those "terrible" situations are. Little Man doesn't fuss just for the sake of fussing. Sure, sometimes he's angry, but there's often more to it than that. Perhaps he's hungry, or tired, or overwhelmed. As he discovers the excitement of the world, he's going to push his own limits. And occasionally he's going to push himself right off a proverbial cliff, and all he can do to communicate that to me is fuss. And it's my job to be prepared for those moments--and to head them off when I can.
Of course, sometimes he's just mad.
Parenting, I think, should be like being a doctor or a lawyer in that it is a practice. Every day with a two year old is different, and the method that worked yesterday to soothe frustration may not work today.
Every day is terrific. Some just more so than others.
I ignored everyone who said it. One, I think the threes are way more difficult--not old enough to be a big kid but too old to be a baby can be very frustrating for little people. Two, if you think it's going to be bad, it's going to be bad. Expectation is everything.
And I expect that this year is going to be terrific. Do think it's going to be perfect? Of course not. No one is perfect, including my little angel of a boy. He's certainly not perfect when he starts throwing a fit in the hallway because he wants me to carry him but my arms are full of groceries. Or when we have to pick up toys, and instead he throws all his toys on the ground (followed by himself). And it's easy for me to get aggravated and frustrated in those situations. When I do, I remind myself that I'm the grown up.
And because I am the grown up, I can figure out what the trigger to those "terrible" situations are. Little Man doesn't fuss just for the sake of fussing. Sure, sometimes he's angry, but there's often more to it than that. Perhaps he's hungry, or tired, or overwhelmed. As he discovers the excitement of the world, he's going to push his own limits. And occasionally he's going to push himself right off a proverbial cliff, and all he can do to communicate that to me is fuss. And it's my job to be prepared for those moments--and to head them off when I can.
Of course, sometimes he's just mad.
Parenting, I think, should be like being a doctor or a lawyer in that it is a practice. Every day with a two year old is different, and the method that worked yesterday to soothe frustration may not work today.
Every day is terrific. Some just more so than others.
Friday, August 10, 2012
The Last of the Baby Steps
This morning, Husband and I were chatting in our bedroom before we got the baby out of his crib. I could hear Little Man on the monitor, rolling around and talking to himself like he does most mornings. I closed my eyes for another few minutes of sleep.
And then Little Man opened the door and came into our room.
Apparently he wasn't rolling around his crib this morning--he was climbing out. He came right to our bedroom and into his Daddy's arms, looking quite pleased with himself.
"Did you climb out of your crib?" I asked him. He smiled.
"Yeah, yeah," he said in his funny little way.
"Do you have any boo-boos?" Husband asked him. Little Man looked at his arms and felt his head.
"Uh-uh," he said, shaking his head. He snuggled in between us on the bed.
And so marks the last day of the crib. Tonight, Little Man will sleep in a big boy bed and hopefully not decide to take a tour of the house at 3 AM.
Transitioning out of his crib is that last of the "baby steps". All the milestones from here on out are big boy: potty training, tying his shoes, writing his letters. And while he'll always be my baby, to the world he's a big boy.
And I couldn't be more proud.
And then Little Man opened the door and came into our room.
Apparently he wasn't rolling around his crib this morning--he was climbing out. He came right to our bedroom and into his Daddy's arms, looking quite pleased with himself.
"Did you climb out of your crib?" I asked him. He smiled.
"Yeah, yeah," he said in his funny little way.
"Do you have any boo-boos?" Husband asked him. Little Man looked at his arms and felt his head.
"Uh-uh," he said, shaking his head. He snuggled in between us on the bed.
And so marks the last day of the crib. Tonight, Little Man will sleep in a big boy bed and hopefully not decide to take a tour of the house at 3 AM.
Transitioning out of his crib is that last of the "baby steps". All the milestones from here on out are big boy: potty training, tying his shoes, writing his letters. And while he'll always be my baby, to the world he's a big boy.
And I couldn't be more proud.
Saturday, July 21, 2012
Stop Me if You've Heard This One
Where did the time go?
Suddenly all the sleepless nights, the noise-making toys, the baby kisses, the splish-splash baths, the board books, the giggles, the crawls, the first steps, the wiggles, the family vacations, the moves, the tiny onesies, the baby food, the doctor's visits, the snuggles, the boo-boos, the smiles, the stroller pushing, and the hot wheels cars have amounted to 17,520 hours--two years of Little Man's life.
And so I can't help, on this early morning before Little Man comes out of his bedroom for the first time as a two-year-old, to remember another morning in the not so distant past, when I was also up this early.
Stop me if you've heard this one.
It was a Tuesday, and it was hot. Too hot for me to even consider stepping outside our door. I slept in that day, lolling in bed until almost noon. I watched TV, read a little, and felt Little Man grooving around on the inside. I finally dragged my pregnant self out of bed, ate an entire container of raspberries and drank two glasses of milk, and took a shower. I was going to make dinner for Husband that night--I remember feeling like I was falling down on the wife job because we had been eating take out so often as I just didn't feel like cooking. So that night I was going to compromise--earlier that week I had purchased some pre-made yummies from our favorite organic grocery store.
I took time with my appearance that day, blowing out my hair and putting on clothes that made me look like a girl (albeit a very round one) instead of the maternity yoga pants and oversized T-shirt I had been sporting for the past few weeks. I painted my toenails (quite a feat when you're nine months pregnant). And when Husband came home I declared it movie night, and we sat in front of the TV and watched "Night at The Museum". He ate burritos and I ate chicken and mac & cheese, and we drank a bottle of martinellis apple cider. We didn't know how many opportunities we would have, just the two of us, with my due date only a week away and an induction plan already in place.
We weren't going to have to wait that long. Around 5:00 that night, I started to feel...funny. Not bad, just different. I'd been having contractions for so long that they felt like old hat, but siddenly they were different. I couldn't quite put my finger on it. We moved our movie night into the bedroom, where we watched "Star Wars". Around 9:00, I noticed the tiniest streak of pink when I went to the bathroom. The contractions were stronger now, but still not bad enough to make me consider another false alarm trip to the hospital. I told Husband to go to sleep. I figured I would try and sleep, too, and if I could sleep through the contractions then I would know it wasn't time.
I didn't sleep through the contractions. I didn't sleep at all. Instead, I paced the long hallway outside our bedroom, timing my contractions with the timer on my iPod. 9 minutes apart. 7 minutes apart. When I hit 5 minutes apart, two things happened: I had to hold on to the door frame to get through the peak of the contraction, and I woke Husband up.
What I remember most about that last night was the calm. I thought I should be panicking, but I didn't. It was just calm--watching the clock, counting the minutes, breathing.
By 4 AM, I was in a hospital gown, informing a chirpy blond nurse I didn't want to walk through my contractions--I'd take the epidural NOW, thanks. I liked that the epidural took the pain away, but I didn't like not being able to feel my legs. I fought at the feeling, knowing the next time I felt Little Man move, he would be in my arms.
At 5 AM, the nurse who would be there when Little Man came into the world told me I'd have a baby by lunch time. I called my mom while Husband called his parents.
"Are you okay?" My mother didn't even say hello when she picked up the phone.
"I'm fine," I said. "I'm having a baby today. Before lunch."
At 8 AM, the doctor came in to break my water, which felt WEIRD. He glanced over at Husband, who was sleeping.
"Does he always look like he's solving the world's problems in his sleep?" he asked me. I grinned at him.
"So we'll let you rest for a few more hours, and I'll come back around 11 and we'll get this party started," he said. He started to leave the room and I propped myself up on my elbow as best I could.
"Um, I didn't take the birthing class, so I'm going to need a few more details," I said. It was his turn to grin.
At 11 AM, I started to push--which, for the record, was nothing like in the movies. I couldn't feel anything, and in between contractions, the doctor told us about his kids. It all seemed a little anti-climactic, actually. Husband was an exceptionally good coach, making me smile in between contractions and keeping me focused during them.
But even though I couldn't feel the pushing I was doing, it still wore me out. And after an hour of it, I was tired and Little Man was stubbornly staying on the inside. Seems that he was quite comfortable in his slightly diagonal position.
And so he needed a little help from the doc and his forceps. The last push was the worst--the epidural was wearing off and I could feel far more than I ever wanted to. It was the only time during the process I cried out, and I told Husband I couldn't do it.
"Hey," he said, catching my eye, and speaking so quietly that I don't even know how I heard him. "Yes you can."
And so I did.
The relief I felt when Little Man was out was euphoric. Husband put his forehead against mine and said, "He's here, he's here, he's perfect."
Little Man didn't cry. The doctor didn't want him to because of a respiratory issue he was having. So he went straight to his little baby cart, and I sent Husband over to be with him while the doctor stitched me up.
And it was quiet in the room, despite all the people there taking care of me and the baby, and I felt hazy and drugged. I kept asking the doctor how much he weighed, if he was okay--and the doctor told me he didn't know. I was just started to freak out when I heard Husband laugh--and I relaxed, because I knew everything was okay.
Husband carried Little Man over to me a few minutes later. He was a little burrito. All you could see of him between the blanket and the blue hat was his eyes and nose and the little furrow between his eyes that made him look like he was solving the world's problems in his sleep.
Husband held the baby's face to mine and I studied him. Throught my whole pregnancy I wondered what he would look like, who he would take after. And there he was, looking just like himself--so much so that I thought, "well, of course he looks like that. Who else would he look like?"
It took about an hour for the doctor to finish with me, and Husband pulled the rocking chair close to my bed and rocked him. He held him in his arms, up high, close to his face and whispered things I couldn't hear. It is my favorite memory of the entire day--watching the man I married become a father.
And finally he was in my arms, feeling much lighter than he felt when he was on the inside. He felt like air, even though he was almost 9 pounds. When Husband handed him to me, he opened his eyes lazily, looked at me for an instant, and closed them again. I imagined him thinking, oh, I know her.
I unwrapped him from his blanket burrito--I wanted to see more than his face. I counted toes and fingers, marveling at how his knuckles were already wrinkled. I ran my finger down his spine--the spine I'd been watching for 9 months. Could this whole little person be the same blip-blip of a heartbeat we'd seem back on that rainy December day?
I peeked under his cap and smiled at the dark, spiky hair I found under there. Two years later, it's blonde and curly. Two years later, I still like to count his fingers and toes, only he does it with me. I still run my finger down his spine, making him giggle. And I still marvel at the little heartbeat I feel--the same little heartbeat we saw when that's all he was.
Happiest of birthdays, my Little Man. I promise I'll try my best not to embarass you by telling this story every year. But I can't make any promises, because it's the best story I know.
Suddenly all the sleepless nights, the noise-making toys, the baby kisses, the splish-splash baths, the board books, the giggles, the crawls, the first steps, the wiggles, the family vacations, the moves, the tiny onesies, the baby food, the doctor's visits, the snuggles, the boo-boos, the smiles, the stroller pushing, and the hot wheels cars have amounted to 17,520 hours--two years of Little Man's life.
And so I can't help, on this early morning before Little Man comes out of his bedroom for the first time as a two-year-old, to remember another morning in the not so distant past, when I was also up this early.
Stop me if you've heard this one.
It was a Tuesday, and it was hot. Too hot for me to even consider stepping outside our door. I slept in that day, lolling in bed until almost noon. I watched TV, read a little, and felt Little Man grooving around on the inside. I finally dragged my pregnant self out of bed, ate an entire container of raspberries and drank two glasses of milk, and took a shower. I was going to make dinner for Husband that night--I remember feeling like I was falling down on the wife job because we had been eating take out so often as I just didn't feel like cooking. So that night I was going to compromise--earlier that week I had purchased some pre-made yummies from our favorite organic grocery store.
I took time with my appearance that day, blowing out my hair and putting on clothes that made me look like a girl (albeit a very round one) instead of the maternity yoga pants and oversized T-shirt I had been sporting for the past few weeks. I painted my toenails (quite a feat when you're nine months pregnant). And when Husband came home I declared it movie night, and we sat in front of the TV and watched "Night at The Museum". He ate burritos and I ate chicken and mac & cheese, and we drank a bottle of martinellis apple cider. We didn't know how many opportunities we would have, just the two of us, with my due date only a week away and an induction plan already in place.
We weren't going to have to wait that long. Around 5:00 that night, I started to feel...funny. Not bad, just different. I'd been having contractions for so long that they felt like old hat, but siddenly they were different. I couldn't quite put my finger on it. We moved our movie night into the bedroom, where we watched "Star Wars". Around 9:00, I noticed the tiniest streak of pink when I went to the bathroom. The contractions were stronger now, but still not bad enough to make me consider another false alarm trip to the hospital. I told Husband to go to sleep. I figured I would try and sleep, too, and if I could sleep through the contractions then I would know it wasn't time.
I didn't sleep through the contractions. I didn't sleep at all. Instead, I paced the long hallway outside our bedroom, timing my contractions with the timer on my iPod. 9 minutes apart. 7 minutes apart. When I hit 5 minutes apart, two things happened: I had to hold on to the door frame to get through the peak of the contraction, and I woke Husband up.
What I remember most about that last night was the calm. I thought I should be panicking, but I didn't. It was just calm--watching the clock, counting the minutes, breathing.
By 4 AM, I was in a hospital gown, informing a chirpy blond nurse I didn't want to walk through my contractions--I'd take the epidural NOW, thanks. I liked that the epidural took the pain away, but I didn't like not being able to feel my legs. I fought at the feeling, knowing the next time I felt Little Man move, he would be in my arms.
At 5 AM, the nurse who would be there when Little Man came into the world told me I'd have a baby by lunch time. I called my mom while Husband called his parents.
"Are you okay?" My mother didn't even say hello when she picked up the phone.
"I'm fine," I said. "I'm having a baby today. Before lunch."
At 8 AM, the doctor came in to break my water, which felt WEIRD. He glanced over at Husband, who was sleeping.
"Does he always look like he's solving the world's problems in his sleep?" he asked me. I grinned at him.
"So we'll let you rest for a few more hours, and I'll come back around 11 and we'll get this party started," he said. He started to leave the room and I propped myself up on my elbow as best I could.
"Um, I didn't take the birthing class, so I'm going to need a few more details," I said. It was his turn to grin.
At 11 AM, I started to push--which, for the record, was nothing like in the movies. I couldn't feel anything, and in between contractions, the doctor told us about his kids. It all seemed a little anti-climactic, actually. Husband was an exceptionally good coach, making me smile in between contractions and keeping me focused during them.
But even though I couldn't feel the pushing I was doing, it still wore me out. And after an hour of it, I was tired and Little Man was stubbornly staying on the inside. Seems that he was quite comfortable in his slightly diagonal position.
And so he needed a little help from the doc and his forceps. The last push was the worst--the epidural was wearing off and I could feel far more than I ever wanted to. It was the only time during the process I cried out, and I told Husband I couldn't do it.
"Hey," he said, catching my eye, and speaking so quietly that I don't even know how I heard him. "Yes you can."
And so I did.
The relief I felt when Little Man was out was euphoric. Husband put his forehead against mine and said, "He's here, he's here, he's perfect."
Little Man didn't cry. The doctor didn't want him to because of a respiratory issue he was having. So he went straight to his little baby cart, and I sent Husband over to be with him while the doctor stitched me up.
And it was quiet in the room, despite all the people there taking care of me and the baby, and I felt hazy and drugged. I kept asking the doctor how much he weighed, if he was okay--and the doctor told me he didn't know. I was just started to freak out when I heard Husband laugh--and I relaxed, because I knew everything was okay.
Husband carried Little Man over to me a few minutes later. He was a little burrito. All you could see of him between the blanket and the blue hat was his eyes and nose and the little furrow between his eyes that made him look like he was solving the world's problems in his sleep.
Husband held the baby's face to mine and I studied him. Throught my whole pregnancy I wondered what he would look like, who he would take after. And there he was, looking just like himself--so much so that I thought, "well, of course he looks like that. Who else would he look like?"
It took about an hour for the doctor to finish with me, and Husband pulled the rocking chair close to my bed and rocked him. He held him in his arms, up high, close to his face and whispered things I couldn't hear. It is my favorite memory of the entire day--watching the man I married become a father.
And finally he was in my arms, feeling much lighter than he felt when he was on the inside. He felt like air, even though he was almost 9 pounds. When Husband handed him to me, he opened his eyes lazily, looked at me for an instant, and closed them again. I imagined him thinking, oh, I know her.
I unwrapped him from his blanket burrito--I wanted to see more than his face. I counted toes and fingers, marveling at how his knuckles were already wrinkled. I ran my finger down his spine--the spine I'd been watching for 9 months. Could this whole little person be the same blip-blip of a heartbeat we'd seem back on that rainy December day?
I peeked under his cap and smiled at the dark, spiky hair I found under there. Two years later, it's blonde and curly. Two years later, I still like to count his fingers and toes, only he does it with me. I still run my finger down his spine, making him giggle. And I still marvel at the little heartbeat I feel--the same little heartbeat we saw when that's all he was.
Happiest of birthdays, my Little Man. I promise I'll try my best not to embarass you by telling this story every year. But I can't make any promises, because it's the best story I know.
Monday, July 9, 2012
Rules for the Pool
We've been taking full advantage of the pool in our new home. And Little Man is a bonafied water baby.
He loves the water, and he's fearless. When we started going to the pool, we had two rules:
1. Mama gets in the water first.
2. Don't push. (This rule came into existence because Little Man wants to be independent at the pool, and shoves against my legs so that I'll back up and he can have his space. Not happening in the water, sorry kid).
Today we started working on a new rule:
3. Make eye contact with Mama before you jump off the side of the pool.
I've been considering swimming lessons for Little Man, but based on his resistance with other group activities, I decided to at least start the process myself. He'll put his face in the water and "blow bubbles", kick his feet and wave his arms when I float him on his belly. That's about where it ends--not because of him, but because I'm not sure where to go next. I see some google research in my very near future.
Aside from the makeshift swimming lessons he's been getting, Little Man is happy to play on the water shelf, sit in the in-pool lounge chairs and gaze up at the sky in hopes of spotting an air plane, stalk the fountains, and--as I mentioned before--jump off the side of the pool.
Watching him laugh and splash around makes me happy that here in the south, the summers are long--because this is summer at its best.
He loves the water, and he's fearless. When we started going to the pool, we had two rules:
1. Mama gets in the water first.
2. Don't push. (This rule came into existence because Little Man wants to be independent at the pool, and shoves against my legs so that I'll back up and he can have his space. Not happening in the water, sorry kid).
Today we started working on a new rule:
3. Make eye contact with Mama before you jump off the side of the pool.
I've been considering swimming lessons for Little Man, but based on his resistance with other group activities, I decided to at least start the process myself. He'll put his face in the water and "blow bubbles", kick his feet and wave his arms when I float him on his belly. That's about where it ends--not because of him, but because I'm not sure where to go next. I see some google research in my very near future.
Aside from the makeshift swimming lessons he's been getting, Little Man is happy to play on the water shelf, sit in the in-pool lounge chairs and gaze up at the sky in hopes of spotting an air plane, stalk the fountains, and--as I mentioned before--jump off the side of the pool.
Watching him laugh and splash around makes me happy that here in the south, the summers are long--because this is summer at its best.
Thursday, June 28, 2012
Sickie-Poo
We are all sick.
Remember that Gymboree class I mentioned a few days ago? Yeah well, Little Man caught a Gymboree germ.
Two days later, the germ travelled to me.
Two days after that, Husband caught it.
We're now all in the throes of a nasty summer cold. There are boxes of tissues in every room, a fridge stocked full of gatorade and orange juice, a bottle of thick pink antibiotic in the cupboard and boxes of decongestant in the bathroom.
The nights are restless because none of us can breath, but that does make for some really good family snuggle naps on the couch in the late afternoon.
The days are long because we're not getting outside much--we don't want to infect the general population. But it means we get to have movie marathons and spend hours reading surrounded by fluffy pillows and snuggle blankets.
Being stopped up means is no fun, but sneezing is a really silly sound and makes Little Man laugh every time.
There's even an up side to being a sickie-poo.
Remember that Gymboree class I mentioned a few days ago? Yeah well, Little Man caught a Gymboree germ.
Two days later, the germ travelled to me.
Two days after that, Husband caught it.
We're now all in the throes of a nasty summer cold. There are boxes of tissues in every room, a fridge stocked full of gatorade and orange juice, a bottle of thick pink antibiotic in the cupboard and boxes of decongestant in the bathroom.
The nights are restless because none of us can breath, but that does make for some really good family snuggle naps on the couch in the late afternoon.
The days are long because we're not getting outside much--we don't want to infect the general population. But it means we get to have movie marathons and spend hours reading surrounded by fluffy pillows and snuggle blankets.
Being stopped up means is no fun, but sneezing is a really silly sound and makes Little Man laugh every time.
There's even an up side to being a sickie-poo.
Tuesday, June 19, 2012
Performance Anxiety
We joined a Gymboree class here in the big city. For those of you that don't know the toddler lingo, Gymboree is a big open room with lots of things to climb and roll down and slide on. During classes, a teacher does group activities on the center mat, sings songs, and blows bubbles.
Little Man hates it.
A very specific part of it, actually: the teacher led portion. The rest of it--the running, the climbing, the rolling--he loves. For the past few classes he's tolerated the group activities, but today he simply refused, and no amount of coaxing would get him involved. So while the other children rolled the air log to music and played with Baby Gymbo, Little Man did his own thing.
And I worried. I know, I know, he's not even two yet. And he gets along fine with adults, and there are a few select little people he doesn't run screaming from. But I still worried: did I wait to long to socialize him with children his own age? Was the class too much for him? Should I enroll him in a younger class? Is he overwhelmed?
I worried all the way home, and all the way through lunch. And then Little Man brought me his "Wheels on the Bus" book, and as I read it to him, he did all the hand motions the other children had learned that day in class. After the book, I sang another song from Gymboree class. Little Man's face lit up and bopped along with me, doing all the motions. Lastly, I sang a rhythm song, sure he wouldn't be able to keep up with the complicated clapping and pounding, especially since he'd totally ignored it in class.
I was delighted when Little Man proved me wrong, clapping and pounding and stomping his feet, and then requesting to sing it again.
I'm no longer worried.
Little Man hates it.
A very specific part of it, actually: the teacher led portion. The rest of it--the running, the climbing, the rolling--he loves. For the past few classes he's tolerated the group activities, but today he simply refused, and no amount of coaxing would get him involved. So while the other children rolled the air log to music and played with Baby Gymbo, Little Man did his own thing.
And I worried. I know, I know, he's not even two yet. And he gets along fine with adults, and there are a few select little people he doesn't run screaming from. But I still worried: did I wait to long to socialize him with children his own age? Was the class too much for him? Should I enroll him in a younger class? Is he overwhelmed?
I worried all the way home, and all the way through lunch. And then Little Man brought me his "Wheels on the Bus" book, and as I read it to him, he did all the hand motions the other children had learned that day in class. After the book, I sang another song from Gymboree class. Little Man's face lit up and bopped along with me, doing all the motions. Lastly, I sang a rhythm song, sure he wouldn't be able to keep up with the complicated clapping and pounding, especially since he'd totally ignored it in class.
I was delighted when Little Man proved me wrong, clapping and pounding and stomping his feet, and then requesting to sing it again.
I'm no longer worried.
Sunday, June 17, 2012
Happy Father's Day!
Ode to the Dada
A poem by Little Man
Translated by the Mama
You're the ying to my yang
The big to my bang.
You're the down to my up
The milk in my cup.
You're the wheels to my wagon
You're the roar to my dragon.
You're the hero, I'm the cape.
You're the Stich to my great escape.
You're the C3P0 to my R2D2
You're the Tigger to my Pooh.
You're the Mickey to my mouse
The meeska mouska to my club house.
You're the driver to my bus
You're the calm to my fuss.
You're the 'sic em, I'm the dawg
You're the jump, I'm the frog.
You're the rock to my climb
You're the pattern to my rhyme.
You're the ball to my hoop
You're the digger, I'm the scoop.
You're the Daddy, I'm the baby bear
And I think you'll agree we make a pretty good pair.
A poem by Little Man
Translated by the Mama
You're the ying to my yang
The big to my bang.
You're the down to my up
The milk in my cup.
You're the wheels to my wagon
You're the roar to my dragon.
You're the hero, I'm the cape.
You're the Stich to my great escape.
You're the C3P0 to my R2D2
You're the Tigger to my Pooh.
You're the Mickey to my mouse
The meeska mouska to my club house.
You're the driver to my bus
You're the calm to my fuss.
You're the 'sic em, I'm the dawg
You're the jump, I'm the frog.
You're the rock to my climb
You're the pattern to my rhyme.
You're the ball to my hoop
You're the digger, I'm the scoop.
You're the Daddy, I'm the baby bear
And I think you'll agree we make a pretty good pair.
Tuesday, June 12, 2012
Returning the Favor
Today, Little Man carried his case of Winnie the Pooh books (10 tiny board books in a toddler friendly carrying case) into the living room, where he sat down across from me on the floor. He started pulling them out one by one and going through them, using his limited but growing vocabulary to tell me what was going on for each page.
Using a string of exclamations and "up up up-pah!" he narrated Tigger finding a new house with more bouncing room.
"Uh-oh, down!" he told me as Eeyore's house fell down and Pooh, Piglet and Owl helped him build it again.
"Bubbles, bubbles!" he said as Roo got his bath from Kanga.
And at the end of each mini-book he held his hands out, opened palmed and said, "aw done!"
We sat for almost an hour and went through all his books twice, and he told me their stories using his favorite words and hand gestures. I couldn't tell you what I was doing when Little Man sat down with his books. Whatever it was, it quickly became abandoned and forgotten as I realized with joy that he was returning the favor and reading to me.
Using a string of exclamations and "up up up-pah!" he narrated Tigger finding a new house with more bouncing room.
"Uh-oh, down!" he told me as Eeyore's house fell down and Pooh, Piglet and Owl helped him build it again.
"Bubbles, bubbles!" he said as Roo got his bath from Kanga.
And at the end of each mini-book he held his hands out, opened palmed and said, "aw done!"
We sat for almost an hour and went through all his books twice, and he told me their stories using his favorite words and hand gestures. I couldn't tell you what I was doing when Little Man sat down with his books. Whatever it was, it quickly became abandoned and forgotten as I realized with joy that he was returning the favor and reading to me.
Saturday, June 9, 2012
Before and After
Godmother Teacher and Godfather Engineer are expecting their first baby.
Husband and I are VERY excited, as they are our closest friends and we didn't think they would be having any children. When Little Man was born, we handled the transition pretty smoothly with them: you know, finding the balance between spending time with adult friends as a parent. Of course, they love Little Man very much, so that made it easier. But I am excited that they are becoming parents too, because it adds a whole new level to the friendship.
We recently spent an afternoon with them, discussing OBGYNs and hospital tours, baby registries and the progression of Godmother Teacher's pregnancy. As usual, I was amused that once you become pregnant, and after you have a baby, that it becomes perfectly natural to discuss things like dilation and epidurals over lunch.
They were full of questions that, because they didn't have children when I had Little Man, they hadn't thought to ask at his birth. And so I spent a good part of the afternoon talking about my false alarms in the hospital, the contractions that started a month before Little Man made his arrival, how I knew when I was actually in labor, what an epidural was really like, and the classes we took prior to his birth. I tried to recount the experience as honestly as I could without scaring the crap out of the mom-to-be, who is in the "I don't know nothing 'bout birthing no babies" phase of pregnancy--I phase I so fondly remember being in myself:
She kept repeating to us, "It can't be that bad, because people wouldn't go back and have a second one!" And I agreed with her. Labor and delivery wasn't as bad as many people told me it would be. There were plenty of aspects of it I'm not eager to repeat any time soon, and a couple of specific moments I would avoid going through again at all costs. But over all? Not the screaming hours of agony TV often depicts.
"Does being around the pregnant lady make you want another baby?" Husband asked me after they left. I glanced at my own 'baby', who was running laps around the apartment and throwing balls, and grinned.
"More nostalgic," I answered. And that was the truth. I remember very well the feeling of being pregnant, the anxious and excited anticipation, the ultrasounds and doctor visits, hearing the heartbeat. The showers and the shopping, washing all those teeny-tiny clothes for the first time and putting them away on equally tiny hangers. The kicks from the inside, the crazy cravings, squeezing into maternity clothes. Making an effort to go on dates and focus on Husband, have quiet moments with him, with the knowledge that soon it won't be like this. The before.
And the after: the first moment your child is in the world, the first time he smiles, laughs, makes eye contact. The sheer exhaustion of being a new parent that makes you feel drunk all the time. The deep sleep that can only come from having an infant on your chest. The rapid movement of time, so that one day you look up and you realize your baby is a month away from two years old, even though the start of his life seems like yesterday.
Our friends did not take expanding their family lightly. I know it was a decision they thought about for a long time. It has been a pleasure knowing them before--and I can't wait to know them after.
Husband and I are VERY excited, as they are our closest friends and we didn't think they would be having any children. When Little Man was born, we handled the transition pretty smoothly with them: you know, finding the balance between spending time with adult friends as a parent. Of course, they love Little Man very much, so that made it easier. But I am excited that they are becoming parents too, because it adds a whole new level to the friendship.
We recently spent an afternoon with them, discussing OBGYNs and hospital tours, baby registries and the progression of Godmother Teacher's pregnancy. As usual, I was amused that once you become pregnant, and after you have a baby, that it becomes perfectly natural to discuss things like dilation and epidurals over lunch.
They were full of questions that, because they didn't have children when I had Little Man, they hadn't thought to ask at his birth. And so I spent a good part of the afternoon talking about my false alarms in the hospital, the contractions that started a month before Little Man made his arrival, how I knew when I was actually in labor, what an epidural was really like, and the classes we took prior to his birth. I tried to recount the experience as honestly as I could without scaring the crap out of the mom-to-be, who is in the "I don't know nothing 'bout birthing no babies" phase of pregnancy--I phase I so fondly remember being in myself:
She kept repeating to us, "It can't be that bad, because people wouldn't go back and have a second one!" And I agreed with her. Labor and delivery wasn't as bad as many people told me it would be. There were plenty of aspects of it I'm not eager to repeat any time soon, and a couple of specific moments I would avoid going through again at all costs. But over all? Not the screaming hours of agony TV often depicts.
"Does being around the pregnant lady make you want another baby?" Husband asked me after they left. I glanced at my own 'baby', who was running laps around the apartment and throwing balls, and grinned.
"More nostalgic," I answered. And that was the truth. I remember very well the feeling of being pregnant, the anxious and excited anticipation, the ultrasounds and doctor visits, hearing the heartbeat. The showers and the shopping, washing all those teeny-tiny clothes for the first time and putting them away on equally tiny hangers. The kicks from the inside, the crazy cravings, squeezing into maternity clothes. Making an effort to go on dates and focus on Husband, have quiet moments with him, with the knowledge that soon it won't be like this. The before.
And the after: the first moment your child is in the world, the first time he smiles, laughs, makes eye contact. The sheer exhaustion of being a new parent that makes you feel drunk all the time. The deep sleep that can only come from having an infant on your chest. The rapid movement of time, so that one day you look up and you realize your baby is a month away from two years old, even though the start of his life seems like yesterday.
Our friends did not take expanding their family lightly. I know it was a decision they thought about for a long time. It has been a pleasure knowing them before--and I can't wait to know them after.
Friday, June 1, 2012
This Toddler's Life: A Tour of Doors and Elevators
For most people, doors and elevators are the means to an end--the way to get somewhere. To Little Man, they are the main event and destination.
He's always liked doors. He's always liked things that open and closed. Oh, it's gone way past that now. He's obsessed. He's always at the front of a crowd to open the door and happy to hold it open until everyone has passed through. In fact, he insists on holding it open, waving people through if they stop to question him with a disgruntled look on his face.
And previously, elevators were things that we rode occasionally--at the mall, at the doctor's office, when we visited Nana at work. But now that we have our very own elevator in our building, we can't mention leaving without Little Man's eyebrows shooting up and hearing an incessant chatter of "Edda! Edda! Edda!"
Take the zoo, for example. While there are no elevators, there's a plethora of doors of all different sizes and shapes, weights and types. While most little people are running amok exclaiming over the animals, Little Man is content to enter and exit the door to the lemur house 37 times. The only way to move him through the zoo is to say things like, "okay! Lets go check out the door at the gorilla house now!"
We have found some upsides to the door and elevator fascination. Turning a doorknob requires pretty good fine motor skills, and it's a great time to teach some manners: ladies first, don't slam doors, things like that. And the elevator provides a great lesson in numbers: Little Man knows what floor we live on, and we always count as we go up and down. And if I try and trip him up by stopping on a floor that isn't ours, he is quick to correct me.
Another big upside? Little Man doesn't fuss at all on a rainy day when we can't go outside. He's content to enter and exit our apartment a few times, then walk down the hallway to the elevator where he happily informs the other passengers that he's going "up up up-pah!"
It's free and fun, and we'll "ride" it out as long as it lasts.
He's always liked doors. He's always liked things that open and closed. Oh, it's gone way past that now. He's obsessed. He's always at the front of a crowd to open the door and happy to hold it open until everyone has passed through. In fact, he insists on holding it open, waving people through if they stop to question him with a disgruntled look on his face.
And previously, elevators were things that we rode occasionally--at the mall, at the doctor's office, when we visited Nana at work. But now that we have our very own elevator in our building, we can't mention leaving without Little Man's eyebrows shooting up and hearing an incessant chatter of "Edda! Edda! Edda!"
Take the zoo, for example. While there are no elevators, there's a plethora of doors of all different sizes and shapes, weights and types. While most little people are running amok exclaiming over the animals, Little Man is content to enter and exit the door to the lemur house 37 times. The only way to move him through the zoo is to say things like, "okay! Lets go check out the door at the gorilla house now!"
We have found some upsides to the door and elevator fascination. Turning a doorknob requires pretty good fine motor skills, and it's a great time to teach some manners: ladies first, don't slam doors, things like that. And the elevator provides a great lesson in numbers: Little Man knows what floor we live on, and we always count as we go up and down. And if I try and trip him up by stopping on a floor that isn't ours, he is quick to correct me.
Another big upside? Little Man doesn't fuss at all on a rainy day when we can't go outside. He's content to enter and exit our apartment a few times, then walk down the hallway to the elevator where he happily informs the other passengers that he's going "up up up-pah!"
It's free and fun, and we'll "ride" it out as long as it lasts.
Friday, May 18, 2012
Bright Lights, Big City: Adventures of an Urban Toddler
It was just around this time last year that a big truck came and carried all our things out of the city and into a house on a hill in the country.
Times flies when you're having fun, and this week we said goodbye to our hill and headed back into the city to start our next adventure.
Little Man's new home includes a pool, a playground within walking distance, and--to his absolute delight--an elevator. The windows from our fifth floor apartment offers a veiw of Husband's work (so we can spy on him while he's on the job) from one side and an honest-to-goodness construction site from the other side. It's like we live right across the street from Goodnight, Goodnight Construction Site.
Husband and I had our concerns about how the move would affect our not quite two-year-old. He didn't care much for having his toys packed up (in fact, he pulled them out of boxes as quickly as I managed to get them in) and I assumed it would be a week or so before Little Man slept peacefully through the night in his new room.
All of our worries went right out the window when Little Man went to sleep like a champ the night of the move and woke up happy the next morning. Since then we've been exploring his new world--he loves walking the halls of our building, exploring the other floors, and pounding the pavement on the sidewalks in our neighborhood. We discovered a pond with some delightful ducklings and we frequent the smoothie shop where Little Man has become partial to the frozen treats.
Every morning when he wakes up, he watches the cement mixers and buses drive by. Every night after dinner, Little Man begins his refrain of "Ousa! Ousa!" ("Outside! Outside!") and waits patiently for his shoes and socks to find their way to his feet. And in between is filled with discovering a city that his father grew up in and his mother loves (even if she will always act like a tourist).
It's a good life our little toddler has.
Times flies when you're having fun, and this week we said goodbye to our hill and headed back into the city to start our next adventure.
Little Man's new home includes a pool, a playground within walking distance, and--to his absolute delight--an elevator. The windows from our fifth floor apartment offers a veiw of Husband's work (so we can spy on him while he's on the job) from one side and an honest-to-goodness construction site from the other side. It's like we live right across the street from Goodnight, Goodnight Construction Site.
Husband and I had our concerns about how the move would affect our not quite two-year-old. He didn't care much for having his toys packed up (in fact, he pulled them out of boxes as quickly as I managed to get them in) and I assumed it would be a week or so before Little Man slept peacefully through the night in his new room.
All of our worries went right out the window when Little Man went to sleep like a champ the night of the move and woke up happy the next morning. Since then we've been exploring his new world--he loves walking the halls of our building, exploring the other floors, and pounding the pavement on the sidewalks in our neighborhood. We discovered a pond with some delightful ducklings and we frequent the smoothie shop where Little Man has become partial to the frozen treats.
Every morning when he wakes up, he watches the cement mixers and buses drive by. Every night after dinner, Little Man begins his refrain of "Ousa! Ousa!" ("Outside! Outside!") and waits patiently for his shoes and socks to find their way to his feet. And in between is filled with discovering a city that his father grew up in and his mother loves (even if she will always act like a tourist).
It's a good life our little toddler has.
Sunday, May 13, 2012
Happy Mother's Day!
It's the morning of Mother's Day. The sun is shining, my child slept all night and woke up as a happy little person, and now he and my sweet husband are standing here with me, surrounding me with love.
Surrounding me as I stand in my bathrobe, wearing latex gloves, going through the very full trash can where my child deposited his favorite HotWheels camper--where it has inevitably fallen to the very bottom.
Thus is the glamour-filled life of a Mama Bear. But my kid's thrilled grin when I returned his (washed) camper was well worth it all the banana peels and coffee grinds.
Happy Mothers Day!
Surrounding me as I stand in my bathrobe, wearing latex gloves, going through the very full trash can where my child deposited his favorite HotWheels camper--where it has inevitably fallen to the very bottom.
Thus is the glamour-filled life of a Mama Bear. But my kid's thrilled grin when I returned his (washed) camper was well worth it all the banana peels and coffee grinds.
Happy Mothers Day!
Tuesday, May 1, 2012
What's in Your Bag?
When I got into law school, I bought myself this Kate Spade satchel. It carried fancy pens and books with titles like "Contracts: Understanding the Legal Language" and "Fundamentals of Torts". That was a different life.
But becoming a Mommy doesn't mean you have to give up your fancy bags. My beloved Kate Spade is now a bonafide Mom bag.
Inside there are the baby necessities: diapers, wipes, and a snack of puffs to ward off an attack of the crankies. There are Mama necessities: too: wallet, lipgloss (okay...maybe 4 of them is a little overkill, but a girl has to have options) and cell phone.
Little Man's cell phone also lives in the bag, but the only person it calls is Mickey Mouse. Luckily, he is included in our circle of friends plan.
The iPod touch, which used to live in the bag for purposes of supplying music during study breaks is now used primarily for emergency episodes of Mickey Mouse Clubhouse when car trips become too long or when Mommy and Daddy would like more than 10 minutes to eat their food when dining out.
On any given day, there are a handful of toys located in the various pockets--usually some assortment of cars and noisemakers. These toys generally alternate with the ones on the floor of the car and hidden in the hidey-holes of Little Man's car seat.
There's no competition: what's in my bag now beats anything.
Monday, April 23, 2012
It's a Jungle Out There
When you're only 33" tall, Nana's garden is practically a jungle.
Here we see a wall of vines, perfect for Little Man to valiantly fight his way through using his stick...er, mighty sword to reach the other side and rescue Small Dog, who is obviously trapped there on her comfy rug and NEEDS assistance.
High above Little Man looms the Birdie Motel 6. This is a fascinating object for Little Man, as it is on the biggest stick ever and birds shoot out of it and make him laugh. Not a day goes by that he doesn't give it a good shake, just in case.
The Jungle is full of colorful and fascinating objects like these. Are they funny looking plants? They're coming out of the ground, they might be. Much research has been done to figure out what these are--poking with sticks, a good tap with a broom, even the occasional venture off the sidewalk to touch and feel. At press time, Little Man is still unsure of the exact purpose of these baubles, but they are pretty awesome.
Sometimes plants grow in pots. And the pots are filled with dirt. So why shouldn't they be filled with other stuff, too? Like sand from the sandbox and water from the water table and small sticks and bits of leaves and...
Rocks! Glorious rocks that are excellent for putting in planters (see above) as well as pushing through the fence, collecting in pockets and throwing.
Oh, and for putting in here.
Transportation is a must-have when exploring the jungle. Little Man favors this rugged, off-roading push car. This compact model is also good for picking up and carrying around when bumps in the road are too big to drive over.
Lastly, it's always good to have a friend out in the jungle--you never know when you're going to need someone who has got your back. Little Man would like to introduce you to Nelson the Jungle Gnome. He doesn't say much, but he knows everything that goes on in the jungle. And he doesn't complain at all when Little Man colors on his face with sidewalk chalk.
Friday, April 20, 2012
An Excellent Addition to a Vocabulary
Really, I shouldn't be surprised about the next word that Little Man mastered after the all-purpose uh-oh. It's a perfectly natural evolution: what goes better with "uh-oh" than "stuck?"
Little Man is getting a lot of mileage out of this word, which popped into usage last week. He gets stuck: in between the train table and the entertainment center, under the table retrieving his car, in his high chair when he's done eating and Mommy isn't moving fast enough. His books and movies are full of things that get stuck: Pooh in Rabbit's front door, Piglet against Owl's window, Tigger in a tree, Goofy in a bush. Stuck, stuck, stuck. And anything that is out of Little Man's reach is stuck as well.
"Uh-oh," he greeted me this morning in his crib when I walked into his bedroom. He gestured wildly to his beloved Pooh book, which was still in the rocking chair where we had read it the night before. "Uh-oh uh-oh uh-oh! Pooh sssssTUCK"
Turns out, "stuck" is an excellent and useful addition to a one-year-old's vocabularly, and never fails to get the point across.
Little Man is getting a lot of mileage out of this word, which popped into usage last week. He gets stuck: in between the train table and the entertainment center, under the table retrieving his car, in his high chair when he's done eating and Mommy isn't moving fast enough. His books and movies are full of things that get stuck: Pooh in Rabbit's front door, Piglet against Owl's window, Tigger in a tree, Goofy in a bush. Stuck, stuck, stuck. And anything that is out of Little Man's reach is stuck as well.
"Uh-oh," he greeted me this morning in his crib when I walked into his bedroom. He gestured wildly to his beloved Pooh book, which was still in the rocking chair where we had read it the night before. "Uh-oh uh-oh uh-oh! Pooh sssssTUCK"
Turns out, "stuck" is an excellent and useful addition to a one-year-old's vocabularly, and never fails to get the point across.
Friday, April 13, 2012
Comfort Food
We've been doing well with our transitions. We went smoothly from 2 naps to 1 nap last summer, we progressed from a bedtim routine that included a nighttime bottle and being rocked to sleep to one that included books,a few snuggles and Little Man being put down awake to doze off on his own, and we went from bottles to sippie cups so seamlessly that I was sure there had to be a catch.
There was.
In December, during the broken leg debacle, we began hearing requests for "ba-ba". Since we wanted Little Man to be acknowledged for vocalization, we handed over the bottle. In the few months since then, we've completely ditched the sippies in favor of the baby bottles, although he will drink out of a grown-up water bottle and his "Mickey straw cup".
Husband and I are not of the parenting school that panics when a kid regresses a bit, nor of the school that feels it neccesary to remove the bottle as a comfort item. And that's what it is--comfort. We do watch hs liquid intake so it doesn't affect his meals, and we have started to offer a little love and snuggles when Little Man requests his "ba-ba" at odd times of the day. Sometimes, this works and he is distracted. Other times persistence wins out. And sometimes, his requests are downright funny.
Just the other day we were all sitting on the couch, Little Man sandwiched between his parents, reading.
"Husband," I said. "Would you like a drink?"
"Ba-ba," said Little Man, without missing a beat and without looking up from his book. Husband and I cracked up.
Who can say no to that?
There was.
In December, during the broken leg debacle, we began hearing requests for "ba-ba". Since we wanted Little Man to be acknowledged for vocalization, we handed over the bottle. In the few months since then, we've completely ditched the sippies in favor of the baby bottles, although he will drink out of a grown-up water bottle and his "Mickey straw cup".
Husband and I are not of the parenting school that panics when a kid regresses a bit, nor of the school that feels it neccesary to remove the bottle as a comfort item. And that's what it is--comfort. We do watch hs liquid intake so it doesn't affect his meals, and we have started to offer a little love and snuggles when Little Man requests his "ba-ba" at odd times of the day. Sometimes, this works and he is distracted. Other times persistence wins out. And sometimes, his requests are downright funny.
Just the other day we were all sitting on the couch, Little Man sandwiched between his parents, reading.
"Husband," I said. "Would you like a drink?"
"Ba-ba," said Little Man, without missing a beat and without looking up from his book. Husband and I cracked up.
Who can say no to that?
Monday, April 9, 2012
The All Purpose Uh-Oh
Little Man's favorite word by far is "uh-oh". He used it sparingly at first, only in real emergencies, like when his car rolled under the couch.
In the past few weeks, Little Man has gained confidence with his favorite word. It is now the all purpose uh-oh, two tiny words that can be used in all sorts of situations:
--The real uh-oh: when something is actually wrong. Like yesterday when he woke up from his nap and his foot was stuck in his crib bars. Definitely an uh-oh.
--The "it was an accident" uh-oh: when he does something he knows he's not supposed to and is trying to make it look like an accident. Like when he flings his train across the room, looks at us with big innocent eyes and says "uh-oh!"
--The pre-emptive uh-oh: used when something he enjoys is coming to an end. During the last five minutes of his favorite Pooh Bear movie, he keeps up a constant stream of "uh-ohs" so that I can be poised and ready to restart it as soon as the credits start rolling.
--The "I am done making my mess and now it needs to be cleaned up" uh-oh: used when he does things like drag his (full) bottle of milk around the living room to make a little path. Once he has been over his train table, on the couch, and through his ball pit and tent, he uses this particular uh-oh to announce to me that a clean up is required.
--The "lets see how fast Mommy can move" uh-oh: because all of these uh-ohs sound the same, it is difficult for me to identify the serverity of the uh-oh situtation if I am in another room. Little Man knows this, and uses it to his advantage. So if he is bored, or would like to be read a book, or just wants to say hi, this particular brand of uh-oh is employed. Because he knows that I will come running to make sure everything is okay. I think it might be safe to say that the word "mama" has effectively been replaced with "uh-oh." It has a faster response time.
Uh-oh.
In the past few weeks, Little Man has gained confidence with his favorite word. It is now the all purpose uh-oh, two tiny words that can be used in all sorts of situations:
--The real uh-oh: when something is actually wrong. Like yesterday when he woke up from his nap and his foot was stuck in his crib bars. Definitely an uh-oh.
--The "it was an accident" uh-oh: when he does something he knows he's not supposed to and is trying to make it look like an accident. Like when he flings his train across the room, looks at us with big innocent eyes and says "uh-oh!"
--The pre-emptive uh-oh: used when something he enjoys is coming to an end. During the last five minutes of his favorite Pooh Bear movie, he keeps up a constant stream of "uh-ohs" so that I can be poised and ready to restart it as soon as the credits start rolling.
--The "I am done making my mess and now it needs to be cleaned up" uh-oh: used when he does things like drag his (full) bottle of milk around the living room to make a little path. Once he has been over his train table, on the couch, and through his ball pit and tent, he uses this particular uh-oh to announce to me that a clean up is required.
--The "lets see how fast Mommy can move" uh-oh: because all of these uh-ohs sound the same, it is difficult for me to identify the serverity of the uh-oh situtation if I am in another room. Little Man knows this, and uses it to his advantage. So if he is bored, or would like to be read a book, or just wants to say hi, this particular brand of uh-oh is employed. Because he knows that I will come running to make sure everything is okay. I think it might be safe to say that the word "mama" has effectively been replaced with "uh-oh." It has a faster response time.
Uh-oh.
Sunday, April 1, 2012
Mud, Glorious Mud
He still doesn't like to get his hands dirty.
His feet, however, seem to be a different story.
Friday, March 23, 2012
Baby Book Review: Goodnight, Goodnight Construction Site
Goodnight, Goodnight Construction Site by Sherri Dusky Rinker
Little Man has always loved his books, but it's only been a month or so since we've added full stories to his bedtime routine. At night, he knows he gets to pick out a book and we read it cover to cover (at least once, usually three or four times). It has been fun to watch the transition from him "reading" his baby board books to reading a "big kid" book to him at night.
For the past week, Goodnight, Goodnight Construction Site has been his book of choice. We picked it up at the library (another perk of being old enough to read big boy books is choosing a few from the library each week), and when it comes time to return it, I believe we'll be picking up a copy of our own.
The full page illustrations by Tom Litchenheld depict big, tough trucks wrapping up their day at the construction site and getting ready for bed. I like it because the drawings are realistic enough that they aren't cartoonish, but there's a little touch of whimsy here and there--like the nightlight that hangs off the crane truck when he goes to sleep.
The story has a great rhythm to it, describing what job each truck does and saying, "shh, goodnight," to each one as the sun goes down. The rhymes are catchy, and I have easily read it enough times to have it memorized, but don't find it annoying to read over and over.
This is a great night time transition book for any little guy who is into trucks--or for any parent that's looking for a switch from Goodnight Moon or something of the like.
Thursday, March 22, 2012
Seeing Red
A few weeks ago, Little Man pointed to a taxi parked outside the library.
"Dada," he said.
"Dada is at work, remember?" I told him, grasping his chubby little hand tighter while we climbed up the stairs, as his attention was now focused wholly on the taxi and not where his feet were going.
"Dada!" He said stubbornly.
"See the person in the car? That's a lady. That's not Dada," I said. My son gave me a look. The look clearly said, Mother. You aren't listening to me. Very patiently, he led me to the taxi, touched the bumper and said slowly (as if he were talking to someone a few french fries short of a happy meal), "Da.Da." It was then that I realized Little Man was telling me that this taxi looked like what his father drove, a yellow sports car. "Oh!" I said. "That's right! This car is yellow, just like Daddy's car."
Little Man looked terribly relieved that I had figured out what he meant. Or perhaps it was relief that his mother wasn't as slow as she was acting. Either way, we waved bye-bye to the taxi and went about our business at morning storytime. When we came home, I tested Little Man's newfound knowledge looking at one of his picture books. "What's yellow like Daddy's car?" I asked him. He searched for a moment and found a page with a yellow duck.
Later that night I simply asked him, "what's yellow?" and he dug around in his hotwheels box until he found a yellow car. A few days later he brought a book to his Nana, opened it, and pointed to a red balloon. "Red," he announced. She, of course, proclaimed him to be the genius we all know he is, and thus has started Little Man learning his colors.
He takes hunting for colors very seriously. We've had success with identifying blue and green, but it's red that really gets him worked up. Ask him to find you something red in a book, and then get comfortable--he goes page by page, pointing to every red object he comes across. He might even go get another book and keep looking for red things, just to make sure you really get it, in case--like his mother--sometimes you're a little slow.
"Dada," he said.
"Dada is at work, remember?" I told him, grasping his chubby little hand tighter while we climbed up the stairs, as his attention was now focused wholly on the taxi and not where his feet were going.
"Dada!" He said stubbornly.
"See the person in the car? That's a lady. That's not Dada," I said. My son gave me a look. The look clearly said, Mother. You aren't listening to me. Very patiently, he led me to the taxi, touched the bumper and said slowly (as if he were talking to someone a few french fries short of a happy meal), "Da.Da." It was then that I realized Little Man was telling me that this taxi looked like what his father drove, a yellow sports car. "Oh!" I said. "That's right! This car is yellow, just like Daddy's car."
Little Man looked terribly relieved that I had figured out what he meant. Or perhaps it was relief that his mother wasn't as slow as she was acting. Either way, we waved bye-bye to the taxi and went about our business at morning storytime. When we came home, I tested Little Man's newfound knowledge looking at one of his picture books. "What's yellow like Daddy's car?" I asked him. He searched for a moment and found a page with a yellow duck.
Later that night I simply asked him, "what's yellow?" and he dug around in his hotwheels box until he found a yellow car. A few days later he brought a book to his Nana, opened it, and pointed to a red balloon. "Red," he announced. She, of course, proclaimed him to be the genius we all know he is, and thus has started Little Man learning his colors.
He takes hunting for colors very seriously. We've had success with identifying blue and green, but it's red that really gets him worked up. Ask him to find you something red in a book, and then get comfortable--he goes page by page, pointing to every red object he comes across. He might even go get another book and keep looking for red things, just to make sure you really get it, in case--like his mother--sometimes you're a little slow.
Wednesday, March 21, 2012
I Hold These Truths to be Self Evident: Volume Three
As the mother of a not-quite two year old boy, I hold these truths to be self evident:
--When I reach for my debit card at the grocery store, I have to pull out three or four matchbox cars to get to my wallet.
--The aforementioned matchbox cars are also found in all sorts of other places: the bathtub, the toaster, under my pillow. As a matter of fact, there is one sitting next to my laptop as I type.
--That just because other people have children my age doesn't mean I am going to like them. Having other "mom friends" is important, but there has to be something else there other than a shared delivery date.
--In the same vein, it is important to have friends that are not mothers, so that they can remind you that there is more to life than diapers and a nap schedule.
--It is fun to revisit kid's movies and cartoons with your child. I like Winnie The Pooh as much as Little Man does.
--That when you're a mother, and people ask you what you want for your birthday or Christmas, the only thing that you can think of is something you've been dying to get for your child.
--That once you become pregnant, and even as your child gets older, everyone has an opinion about how you should do things regarding your kid...
--...And the trick to staying sane as all the advice comes rolling in is to take it with a grain of salt.
--When I reach for my debit card at the grocery store, I have to pull out three or four matchbox cars to get to my wallet.
--The aforementioned matchbox cars are also found in all sorts of other places: the bathtub, the toaster, under my pillow. As a matter of fact, there is one sitting next to my laptop as I type.
--That just because other people have children my age doesn't mean I am going to like them. Having other "mom friends" is important, but there has to be something else there other than a shared delivery date.
--In the same vein, it is important to have friends that are not mothers, so that they can remind you that there is more to life than diapers and a nap schedule.
--It is fun to revisit kid's movies and cartoons with your child. I like Winnie The Pooh as much as Little Man does.
--That when you're a mother, and people ask you what you want for your birthday or Christmas, the only thing that you can think of is something you've been dying to get for your child.
--That once you become pregnant, and even as your child gets older, everyone has an opinion about how you should do things regarding your kid...
--...And the trick to staying sane as all the advice comes rolling in is to take it with a grain of salt.
Friday, March 16, 2012
I Could Not Ask For More...a Love Note for a Little Man from his Mama, with a Little Help from a Song
I heard a song on the radio the other day and it stuck in my head. When I found myself humming it to Little Man as I rocked him tonight, I wrote him a letter in my head.
I Could Not Ask for More Lyrics by Edwin McCain
Lying here with you
Listening to the rain
Little Man, I complain when you wake me up at night. But really, I never mind getting up with you. What greater gift can I give than to give comfort to you when you wake up alone and scared?
Smiling just to see the smile upon your face
Your sense of humor is developing...you have favorite parts of movies that always make you laugh, and sometimes you crack yourself up for no reason that your dad and I can see, and that makes us crack up, too.
These are the moments I thank God that I'm alive
These are the moments I'll remember all my life
I found all I've waited for
And I could not ask for more
I don't have a lot of time to myself. When I start to get bogged down and feel overwhelmed with motherhood and how much you need me, I remember that it won't always be like this--I won't be your world forever, so now is the time to sit and cuddle with you when you ask, even though I've seen the particular episode of "Mickey Mouse Clubhouse" you're watching approximately 6,835 times. This week.
Looking in your eyes
Seeing all I need
Everything you are is everything to me
I don't need a fancy job, a title, a paycheck. If what I am best at is being your mother, I am more wealthy then I ever imagined.
These are the moments
I know heaven must exist
There are moments that choke me up, and they are never the big ones...sure, I got weepy when you took your first step. But sometimes you do things that seem so insubstantial--like wave bye-bye to Pooh Bear at the end of the movie, or impulsively lean down and kiss your stuffed bunny before I take you out of your crib for the morning--and I am moved in a way I can't describe. Heaven must be made up of moments like that.
These are the moments I know all I need is this
I have all I've waited for
And I could not ask for more
I could not ask for more than this time together
I could not ask for more than this time with you
Is there a better way to spend a sunny day than poking mud with you? Than reading books with you? Than watching you learn in leaps and bounds every minute? The answer is no.
Every prayer has been answered
Every dream I have's come true
And right here in this moment is right where I'm meant to be
Here with you here with me
You have really taught me to live in the moment. You don't understand what the future is. You don't know what "tomorrow" means yet. It can be frustrating, like when I'm trying to reassure you that we will indeed come back to the playground, and you're crying hysterically because you're having so much fun RIGHT NOW. But it can also be wonderful, like when you stop to notice a ladybug crawling on a leaf and all other things in life are forgotten, and you pull me down next to you to show me--because you're so excited to share this wonderful thing you just encountered with me. Whenever you take my hand to show me something you found or discovered, it's like an invitation to a party from the coolest kid in school.
These are the moments I thank God that I'm alive
These are the moments I'll remember all my life
I've got all I've waited for
And I could not ask for more
Sometimes you do funny things--you like to spin in circles, get into goofy baby yoga positions, and randomly blow raspberries at me. Sometimes you act like a miniature grown-up--you sit in your booster seat and read a magazine, hold your spoon the right way to feed yourself yogurt even though no one ever really showed you how, and when we're eating out and the waiter asks "what will you folks be having tonight?" you answer him in your baby babble talk like he was talking to you the whole time. I hope I always remember the little things you do.
I could not ask for more than the love you give me 'Coz it's all I've waited for
And I could not ask for more
I could not ask for more
I've changed a lot of diapers in my day, kid. I've loved a lot of babies. And I've always waited for the day when I had my own. I saved things just for you, lullabies I never sang other children, stories I held in my head just for my own. What I have for you is more than love. My heart walks outside my body now, in the form of one curly-haired, deep-thinking, giggly, goofball little man. And I could not ask for more.
I Could Not Ask for More Lyrics by Edwin McCain
Lying here with you
Listening to the rain
Little Man, I complain when you wake me up at night. But really, I never mind getting up with you. What greater gift can I give than to give comfort to you when you wake up alone and scared?
Smiling just to see the smile upon your face
Your sense of humor is developing...you have favorite parts of movies that always make you laugh, and sometimes you crack yourself up for no reason that your dad and I can see, and that makes us crack up, too.
These are the moments I thank God that I'm alive
These are the moments I'll remember all my life
I found all I've waited for
And I could not ask for more
I don't have a lot of time to myself. When I start to get bogged down and feel overwhelmed with motherhood and how much you need me, I remember that it won't always be like this--I won't be your world forever, so now is the time to sit and cuddle with you when you ask, even though I've seen the particular episode of "Mickey Mouse Clubhouse" you're watching approximately 6,835 times. This week.
Looking in your eyes
Seeing all I need
Everything you are is everything to me
I don't need a fancy job, a title, a paycheck. If what I am best at is being your mother, I am more wealthy then I ever imagined.
These are the moments
I know heaven must exist
There are moments that choke me up, and they are never the big ones...sure, I got weepy when you took your first step. But sometimes you do things that seem so insubstantial--like wave bye-bye to Pooh Bear at the end of the movie, or impulsively lean down and kiss your stuffed bunny before I take you out of your crib for the morning--and I am moved in a way I can't describe. Heaven must be made up of moments like that.
These are the moments I know all I need is this
I have all I've waited for
And I could not ask for more
I could not ask for more than this time together
I could not ask for more than this time with you
Is there a better way to spend a sunny day than poking mud with you? Than reading books with you? Than watching you learn in leaps and bounds every minute? The answer is no.
Every prayer has been answered
Every dream I have's come true
And right here in this moment is right where I'm meant to be
Here with you here with me
You have really taught me to live in the moment. You don't understand what the future is. You don't know what "tomorrow" means yet. It can be frustrating, like when I'm trying to reassure you that we will indeed come back to the playground, and you're crying hysterically because you're having so much fun RIGHT NOW. But it can also be wonderful, like when you stop to notice a ladybug crawling on a leaf and all other things in life are forgotten, and you pull me down next to you to show me--because you're so excited to share this wonderful thing you just encountered with me. Whenever you take my hand to show me something you found or discovered, it's like an invitation to a party from the coolest kid in school.
These are the moments I thank God that I'm alive
These are the moments I'll remember all my life
I've got all I've waited for
And I could not ask for more
Sometimes you do funny things--you like to spin in circles, get into goofy baby yoga positions, and randomly blow raspberries at me. Sometimes you act like a miniature grown-up--you sit in your booster seat and read a magazine, hold your spoon the right way to feed yourself yogurt even though no one ever really showed you how, and when we're eating out and the waiter asks "what will you folks be having tonight?" you answer him in your baby babble talk like he was talking to you the whole time. I hope I always remember the little things you do.
I could not ask for more than the love you give me 'Coz it's all I've waited for
And I could not ask for more
I could not ask for more
I've changed a lot of diapers in my day, kid. I've loved a lot of babies. And I've always waited for the day when I had my own. I saved things just for you, lullabies I never sang other children, stories I held in my head just for my own. What I have for you is more than love. My heart walks outside my body now, in the form of one curly-haired, deep-thinking, giggly, goofball little man. And I could not ask for more.
Thursday, March 8, 2012
Stick in the Mud
"Would you be so kind as to tow me to a muddy place of which I know of?"
--Winnie-The-Pooh
For a boy his age, Little Man is surprisingly clean. Perhaps he's just naturally tidy-minded...or perhaps it has something to do with his mother obsessively cleaning his hands and face from the tender age of justborn. Whatever the reason, he doesn't like to be dirty.
Until...he discovered mud. And sticks in which to poke mud.
One of the playgrounds we frequent has a long and twisty walking path and a creek that runs along it. Today was a wonderful, warm spring day that found us at that very playground...but did he want to climb? No. Did he want to slide? No. He wanted to poke mud.
We found an extra long stick and Little Man sat on the bridge, leaned over the edge, and examined the way the water turned brown when he swished his stick around. He must have sent out some kind of boy homing beacon, because within 10 minutes, half a dozen other little boys had joined him, poking and dropping things into the mud. Soon there were mud pies and toes being squished in the mud...luckily for me, Little Man didn't make it that far, as I had no change of clothes for him in the car. He did ask to be in the water, and I assured him that next time, play shoes and clothes would be brought. This was, apparently very exciting, because the stick came out of the water and mud was slung across my chest and face.
Note to self: Mommies need spring time play clothes, too.
--Winnie-The-Pooh
For a boy his age, Little Man is surprisingly clean. Perhaps he's just naturally tidy-minded...or perhaps it has something to do with his mother obsessively cleaning his hands and face from the tender age of justborn. Whatever the reason, he doesn't like to be dirty.
Until...he discovered mud. And sticks in which to poke mud.
One of the playgrounds we frequent has a long and twisty walking path and a creek that runs along it. Today was a wonderful, warm spring day that found us at that very playground...but did he want to climb? No. Did he want to slide? No. He wanted to poke mud.
We found an extra long stick and Little Man sat on the bridge, leaned over the edge, and examined the way the water turned brown when he swished his stick around. He must have sent out some kind of boy homing beacon, because within 10 minutes, half a dozen other little boys had joined him, poking and dropping things into the mud. Soon there were mud pies and toes being squished in the mud...luckily for me, Little Man didn't make it that far, as I had no change of clothes for him in the car. He did ask to be in the water, and I assured him that next time, play shoes and clothes would be brought. This was, apparently very exciting, because the stick came out of the water and mud was slung across my chest and face.
Note to self: Mommies need spring time play clothes, too.
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