To the Count of One

We had an agreement, yet now I must use the past-tense when referring it. It was the agreement that anything 20″ and below was your territory, and we got everything 20″ and above. This means we didn’t have to baby-proof the tops of tables, chairs and counters. Then last Friday, you broke this agreement. You stood up, reached and took the remote from the top of the coffee table. Which was right next to the scissors, knives, coasters and other dangerous items. Then yesterday, this:

Yep. Above 20″, I measured. Then this morning while I was putting in my contacts, you reeeached up onto your tippy toes and got your fingers over the edge of the bathroom counter. Way above 20″, dude.

Then, tonight, while you were playing with your socks on top of the coffee table that you now own, you let go and stood by yourself for the count of one second. And, okay, you probably would have stood longer had I not screamed “Holy Shit!” and scared the bejesus out of you.

So now I see yet another weekend spent moving things up higher. This is so not cool. Dad and I were going to just sit around, watch movies and eat bon-bons.

A Letter from Daddy, Month 10

“Don’t sweat the small stuff…and it’s all small stuff.”

This was one of my Dad’s favorite aphorisms. In physics, this would be considered a Newtonian view of things. But I would hold that some small things are bigger than other small things and sometimes you just can’t tell if one thing is big or small unless you try to put it under a box with a cat. This would be more in line with quantum mechanics. All this is to say my little boy’s growing at a clip, and it’s a good idea to keep some deodorant handy.

See, this month you figured out how to put the colored donut rings back on the stacking pole. This is a big deal, because we’ve been at it for a while. On the other hand, you are now pulling yourself up into the standing position without issue. Both are small steps from where you were, but standing is huge next to that stacking thing. See what I’m driving at?

Take the outdoors. On the weekends I like to take you outside in the morning to see Spring: leaves coming in, birds calling, Igloo peeing in green grass. Mostly you don’t care, which is fine. It’s just a setup. Eventually, you see the leaves fluttering, you hear the birds twittering, and it’s cool to see that recognition where there was none. On Mother’s Day, we were outside at Grandma and Grandpa’s, messing with twigs and then, “Hoo-HOOH-hoo, hoo-hoo.”

You turned to look at me. Yep, a Mourning Dove. Knowing it would never stop, we’d wait and listen for it again, and you’d give a little giggle. Recognition. (When the rooster across the street chimed in, you were definitely more interested in my interpretation of it, but I needed some practice. In nearly all your books there’s a rooster crowing, and the cock-a-doodle-doo just isn’t cutting it.)

Driving home that night, I was in the back seat next to you, and I sat watching you follow the trails of light and passing cars, just taking it all in, the both of us.

Bonding Time

A Letter from Mommy, Month 10

The other day we were on a walk and I saw this woman sitting on the ground in the middle of the path, perched under the shade of a tree. As we neared, I noticed a jogging stroller and feared something was wrong. Then I saw the baby in her lap; these two little feet sticking out, covered in little pink socks, and I realized she was breastfeeding her baby girl. After we had passed, I thought to myself how kids are one of the very few things in life that will literally stop you in your tracks.

This month has not only been about your mobility, but for me, it was your changed interaction with me. When you play, I often sit on the floor next to you and just watch. You pick up toys, study them and then move onto the next. Constant curiousity. One day, several weeks ago, you crawled up to me, swung your little butt around and sat right in my lap! Then you grabbed your toy, sat there and chewed and babbled. I couldn’t move… all I could do was wipe the tears from my face. This was the first time you ever voluntarily sat in my lap… and I’ve never felt more like a mommy.

Then about a week later, the three of us were sitting in your bedroom playing on the floor and I said “Asher, come see Mommy”… you looked up at me, giggled and crawled your cuddly little butt right over to me, climbed up onto my lap and gave me hugs and kisses. I can say with all honestly that moment right there is one of the most special in my heart. It’s tied with the first time your daddy told me he loved me. Trust me, kiddo, that’s way up there.

Since these two momentous occasions, I’ve turned into your personal jungle gym. If I’m on the floor, you often crawl up, climb all over me, wanting to shove each toy into my mouth. It never fails to bring a smile to my face and warmth to my heart to have my little boy play with me.

I’ll stop the world to play with you.

Your Amazing Technicolor Gag Reflex

Solid foods have been… interesting. You took to the biter biscuits fine. Bananas are good. So are plums. But, every time we give you anything besides baby food, we are always prepared to have the contents of your stomach come lurching forward.

I believe you’ve inherited this trait from your father. He’s the one who spit coffee all over his office because some steam went down his throat… oh, and that time during one of our first dates, when he spit out an entire mouthful of angel hair pasta for the same reason. Steam gagged him. Steam.

So, it’s no wonder when a small piece of peach, toast or anything with some substance nears your esophagus, you curl your tongue, get red in the face and vomit your entire meal. And don’t get me started on meat. Just having Gerber’s chicken noodle soup dinner hit your tongue was enough to require a full outfit change.

It’s getting better as you get older and start to trust us a little more. There’s always a lot of coaching and “it’s okay, just swallow”. Although, this weekend Daddy tried giving you some hot dog and I understand you just tucked most of it in your cheek so that you didn’t have to swallow. I’ll consider that innovation!

Something wonderful from something horrible

The other morning you went through your regular routine: wake up, spend a few minutes waking up and falling back to sleep. Then you started getting a little louder, as you always do, and I knew it was time to bring in the food. When I opened the door, I knew something was wrong. You didn’t sit up and great me with bounces and giggles, you laid there somewhat slumped over, kind of moaning to yourself. I couldn’t figure out if you were still trying to go back to sleep or what, but then it became apparent that something was definitely wrong. When I went to pick you up, your poor little arm had slipped behind you and in between the slats of the crib. You must have been sitting upright before this happened and the arm that was stuck was the arm you needed for leverage to get back to sitting… It was so sad. I picked you up and you were so upset, tired and out-of-sorts. You ate, but you were still grumpy; you cried and squirmed around in my lap, but finally, I started scratching your back and you settled down. You rolled onto your side, sucked your thumb and looked up at me with these sad little eyes. We sat there for a good 15 minutes while I tickled your back and you dozed.

Last week, something similar occurred: you woke up first thing, but wouldn’t go back to sleep. This time when I came into your room, both your legs were caught in the slats. It was about an hour earlier than your normal wake time and after I fed you, you squirmed around in my lap, but then finally laid on your tummy all stretched out and fell fast asleep in my arms. It seems it’s been a very long time since you’ve slept in my lap. You’re quite a bit more restless these days; you flop and toss and turn in your sleep.

Both times you’ve gotten caught, I’ve been able to share a very special moment with you. I don’t in any way wish for your limbs to continue to find their way to the wrong side of the bed, but I will always think of this little boy that has grown so much, but is still young enough to curl up in my lap for a snooze. It’s amazing how much you’ve grown, amazing to see these little curls of hair that have started to sprout at the base of your neck, and amazing the thrill I still get when we cuddle.