Music has always been a big part of Little Man's life. We spend a good portion of our day listening and grooving to music.
He starts his day with music--his CD player goes off at 7 AM and he wakes to Disney tunes. Woe be the parent who attempts to remove him from his crib before the CD stops playing.
Before breakfast, he's dancing to his favorite songs on "Mickey Mouse Club House"--particularly the "Hot Dog Dance":
Our Little Man bounces, wiggles, and does his own special "hand dance", perfected when he was in his cast and couldn't get up to bop.
Meal times are full of music. As soon as he's in his big boy booster seat at the kitchen island, he gives me an abbreviated form of his hand dance that's his way of asking for me to sing. He always has a song in mind for me to sing, and sometimes it takes me a couple of tries before I find the one he wants. Meal time favorites include "Farmer in the Dell", "Apples and Bananas" and "She'll be Comin' Round the Mountain":
A ride in the car means Little Man really gets to groove with totally grown up songs from Prince (he likes "1999"), Maroon Five (we sing "you got that baby swagger" to the tune of "Moves like Jagger") and his favorite, Britney Spears. I indulge his love of her song "If you Seek Amy" for now because he loves the beat, but the minute he starts repeating words, it's off our playlist.
Even story time is musical--at least once a day Little Man brings me his "Wheels on the Bus" board book and wiggles in my lap, waiting for me to sing.
One of Little Man's favorite songs, dating back to before he could even sit up, is from a Chattanooga tourism commercial. The commercial used to play every night during Jeopardy, and his head would spin around to the music. Now, the tune is bookmarked on my computer and we listen to it daily:
Finally, we end our day with a soothing tune from the Disney Lullaby album while we brush teeth, put on jammies, and get ready for bed:
Little Man's life is full of happiness and music. Below, he shares his hit list just for you:
Little Man's Hit List (Songs to Rock to at 18 Months)
--The Wheels on the Bus
--Farmer in the Dell
--Row Row Row Your Boat
--The Hot Dog Dance (They Might be Giants)
--I get by With a Little Help From my Friends (Beatles)
--Old McDonald's Farm
--The Wonderful Thing About Tiggers
--'Till the World Ends (Britney Spears)
--The UGA fight song
--Mickey's Countdown
--Zip-A-Dee-Doo-dah
--The Itsy Bitsy Spider
--I'd Rather Be (Chattanooga Tourism)
Sunday, January 29, 2012
Wednesday, January 25, 2012
These Boots Were Made for Walking
When Little Man had his cast taken off a few days after Christmas, Husband and I were eager to see him walking and running around the house. We were slightly dismayed when he continued to hold his foot as though the cast was on, and then drag his leg when he finally started to walk again with two flat feet.
When, after a few days of dragging the boo-boo foot around, he stopped walking on two flat feet altogether, we became very dismayed. Back to the doctor we went, where his x-rays showed something a little odd--the bones in his ankle were healing.
So it turns out it wasn't his leg that was broken, it was his ankle. The doctor told us because baby xrays are so hard to read, they couldn't locate the break until they saw bone growth. This was, as you can imagine, slightly stressful to hear. We had been encouraging Little Man to walk on an ankle that wasn't healed for nearly a month.
Instead of a cast, they fitted a miniature walking boot on Little Man's leg (officially called a "wee walker") and told us to come back in two weeks. I've been very anxiously watching our boy for a few days, worrying over whether I should get a second opinion. But Little Man doesn't seem to have any pain at all--in fact, he's zooming around the house at full tilt for the first time since early December. It seems as though the boot is (no pun intended) just what the doctor ordered.
When, after a few days of dragging the boo-boo foot around, he stopped walking on two flat feet altogether, we became very dismayed. Back to the doctor we went, where his x-rays showed something a little odd--the bones in his ankle were healing.
So it turns out it wasn't his leg that was broken, it was his ankle. The doctor told us because baby xrays are so hard to read, they couldn't locate the break until they saw bone growth. This was, as you can imagine, slightly stressful to hear. We had been encouraging Little Man to walk on an ankle that wasn't healed for nearly a month.
Instead of a cast, they fitted a miniature walking boot on Little Man's leg (officially called a "wee walker") and told us to come back in two weeks. I've been very anxiously watching our boy for a few days, worrying over whether I should get a second opinion. But Little Man doesn't seem to have any pain at all--in fact, he's zooming around the house at full tilt for the first time since early December. It seems as though the boot is (no pun intended) just what the doctor ordered.
Friday, January 13, 2012
Man Child
Ah, the good old days. Do you remember them? I do. They were the days when I could load Little Man up in his car seat and pop him in and out of the car, balancing the car seat in the crook of my arm. We went a lot of places like this: we lunched, we shopped, we meandered around farmers markets and parks.
And then mobility came.
We still went to the same places, it just required a little focus on timing so that Little Man could strech his legs when he needed to. I didn't meander so much as I chased, but it was still all good.
And then in addition to the mobility came preference, which changed the ball game entirely.
Gone are the days of doing anything, especially shopping, at a leisurely pace. When I go to the grocery store, I go with a list, a map and a plan. And a miniature dump truck in my purse that is just right for zooming along the shelves.
And there's no more slipping into department stores or clothing stores, because suddenly my darling Man Child has decided to voice his masculine opinion about my feminine shopping habits.
The minute I step into a women's clothing department, he begins to wail a high pitched scream that makes the other shoppers assume I'm mudering him. He begins to whine the moment I walk down the cosmetics aisle. And the very sight of a Victoria Secret store is cause enough for a meltdown.
Take him into a Best Buy? He's all grins and giggles. GameStop? It's the happiest place on earth. My Little Man is a true Man Child.
And then mobility came.
We still went to the same places, it just required a little focus on timing so that Little Man could strech his legs when he needed to. I didn't meander so much as I chased, but it was still all good.
And then in addition to the mobility came preference, which changed the ball game entirely.
Gone are the days of doing anything, especially shopping, at a leisurely pace. When I go to the grocery store, I go with a list, a map and a plan. And a miniature dump truck in my purse that is just right for zooming along the shelves.
And there's no more slipping into department stores or clothing stores, because suddenly my darling Man Child has decided to voice his masculine opinion about my feminine shopping habits.
The minute I step into a women's clothing department, he begins to wail a high pitched scream that makes the other shoppers assume I'm mudering him. He begins to whine the moment I walk down the cosmetics aisle. And the very sight of a Victoria Secret store is cause enough for a meltdown.
Take him into a Best Buy? He's all grins and giggles. GameStop? It's the happiest place on earth. My Little Man is a true Man Child.
Saturday, January 7, 2012
Parenting is Not For The Faint of Heart
When you're a parent, there are good days. There are days when everything goes right. Days when you manage to get everything done around the house, make a trip to the playground, have productive and educational play time with your kid, and make a healthy and satisfying dinner before tucking your little one sweetly into bed.
And then there are bad days. There are days when the clutter and mess seems to multiply under your very feet. Days when nothing will stop your child from whining other than watching the same episode of Mickey Mouse Clubhouse over and over and over again. Days when all you eat are chips, leftover Christmas candy and animal crackers.
And then there are days that are not for the faint of heart. Parenting takes guts, people. And a stomach of steel, so when your kid throws up what seems like oceans of pureed banana on you, you don't add to the pile yourself.
Digestion isn't the only thing that has to be steely. As Argus Filch once said, "you've got to have your wits about you!" Because if you lose it, who is going to hold your boy down while a nurse comes at him with a scary saw looking thing, assuring you repeatedly that it will just cut the cast off but you're pretty sure it its going to take his leg with it? Or when you walk into his room in the morning and the only thing worse than the smell is the fact that there's poo all over the baby, the crib and the wall?
I have long said that the true way to stop teen pregnancy is to give young girls a serious reality check. Strap a 30 pound lead bag to their belly in the middle of the summer. Make their ankles swell up. Let them experience throwing up in a completely public place. Give them too much information about stitches and where the doctor puts them after delivery. And all that's before they even bring the bundle of joy home.
Parenting is rough. But it is worth every extra pound, every stitch, every load of smelly laundry. Know why? Because those good days really exist. The kind of days I wish I could put in a bottle. The days when books are read, food goes down easy, the sun shines and the giggles are plentiful. The kind of days that find me dancing with my Little Man to soft music before I rock him to sleep. The days when he opens his eyes for just a minute when I lay him in his crib, looks and me and smiles so big that he's still smiling when he goes to sleep.
I'm thankful for every day, even the bad ones, because the ones that challenge my heart--be it by a baby tumble or tantrum--makes it a little bigger so I can enjoy the good days even more.
And then there are bad days. There are days when the clutter and mess seems to multiply under your very feet. Days when nothing will stop your child from whining other than watching the same episode of Mickey Mouse Clubhouse over and over and over again. Days when all you eat are chips, leftover Christmas candy and animal crackers.
And then there are days that are not for the faint of heart. Parenting takes guts, people. And a stomach of steel, so when your kid throws up what seems like oceans of pureed banana on you, you don't add to the pile yourself.
Digestion isn't the only thing that has to be steely. As Argus Filch once said, "you've got to have your wits about you!" Because if you lose it, who is going to hold your boy down while a nurse comes at him with a scary saw looking thing, assuring you repeatedly that it will just cut the cast off but you're pretty sure it its going to take his leg with it? Or when you walk into his room in the morning and the only thing worse than the smell is the fact that there's poo all over the baby, the crib and the wall?
I have long said that the true way to stop teen pregnancy is to give young girls a serious reality check. Strap a 30 pound lead bag to their belly in the middle of the summer. Make their ankles swell up. Let them experience throwing up in a completely public place. Give them too much information about stitches and where the doctor puts them after delivery. And all that's before they even bring the bundle of joy home.
Parenting is rough. But it is worth every extra pound, every stitch, every load of smelly laundry. Know why? Because those good days really exist. The kind of days I wish I could put in a bottle. The days when books are read, food goes down easy, the sun shines and the giggles are plentiful. The kind of days that find me dancing with my Little Man to soft music before I rock him to sleep. The days when he opens his eyes for just a minute when I lay him in his crib, looks and me and smiles so big that he's still smiling when he goes to sleep.
I'm thankful for every day, even the bad ones, because the ones that challenge my heart--be it by a baby tumble or tantrum--makes it a little bigger so I can enjoy the good days even more.
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