10 Months, at the Lake

A wonderful long weekend (that was just too short, as always) at Bennett Lake. Grammy and Granddude were the most gracious hosts, and Uncle Jeff and Aunt Lauren couldn't get enough of the Chicken.

Turtles (painted and snapping), frogs, deer, a beaver, a den of snakes, loons, ducks (with ducklings), dragonflies, cows, dogs (of course, there are always, always dogs), lots and lots of fish, skitters (can't avoid the buggers, unfortunately), and even ... wait for it ... a black bear! More nature than we've seen in a long time at the lake.

All-in-all a beautiful, wonderful trip with family. Silly moments, fun moments, lots of "firsts," more silly (read: inebriated) moments (really, super-duper fireworks at midnight probably weren't the best idea), and lots and lots of sweet, meaningful time spent enjoying each other's company.

Lots of time spent outside: playing on the lawn,

playing with new friends (Camden lives up the hill and is 13 months old; the boys shared toys and babble Friday afternoon)...

... exploring new surroundings,

swimmin' in the big, wide lake (and getting just a couple of cuts on our toes from the darned zebra mussels) ...














... experiencing nature (and our first shiner: apparently Mama's excited "I got him!" -- the turtle, left -- from the canoe with Uncle Jeff drew the attention of Grammy, Granddude and Daddy for the same split-second when Chicken decided to lean forward in his camping chair to reach for a Cheerio that had fallen to the deck; and in that split-second Cayden tipped forward, landing squarely on his eye socket and forehead. He was more scared than hurt, but he still has a little shiner to show for the afternoon) ...

... early morning walks to the rented shore, where we saw not one, but TWO snapping turtle mamas laying eggs ...

... enjoying lunch (salsa and chips) at Mexicali Rosa's on the Tay ...


... walking around Stewart Park, and dipping our toes in the stream ...

... discovering that we can open cabinets, and giving Daddy the perfect "Gotcha" photo, pilfering through the liquor cabinet ...

... first boat ride (even though Chicken fell asleep about five minutes into it),

first ice cream cone licks (thank goodness the kid is not allergic to either maple or walnut, apparently) ...



... and more experiences with nature.

One of which we were not fortunate enough to have a camera nearby to capture: Lauren and Jeff worked tirelessly to collect half-a-dozen minnows for Shorty to look at (really, it's a hard, hard task when you don't have a minnow net), and we then placed four of those big minnows in a little yellow bucket so Cayden could see them. He was fascinated, squealing and giggling as he first looked at them, then stuck his hand in the bucket to feel them swim around. And all of a sudden, we look at the kid, and he has caught a minnow, squeezing it in his right hand and bringing it right to where all new things go for a 10-month old -- his mouth. Bennet Lake sushi. We all screamed immediately and batted the live fishie out of Cayden's hand, scaring the shit out of him and inspiring a crying jag that lasted for a good five minutes, until multiple repetitions of "Mary Had a Little Lamb" finally calmed the boy.

Just the kind of escape we needed for a few days, to somewhere familiar and sentimental -- with lifetimes of memories -- for all of us who went, except for Cayden. I'm so glad he's gotten to visit this place twice in his first year, and I can't wait to see how his own experiences at the lake will mirror and differ from all of ours.

(I should note one additional not-so-nice element of the trip, besides baby's first shiner: Daddy -- victim of a wiley bass who just wouldn't out his hook -- ended up hooking himself pretty severly with a treble hook, in the meat of his hand, just below his thumb. It was a pretty scary experience for that Daddy of ours, in that he hooked himself before he could unhook the fish, resulting in a $512 trip to the Perth emergency room that I'm sure my insurance will fight refunding, since the bill doesn't reference "Emergency Room" at all. Rather $446 of the charge is for "out-of-country resident." Uggh.

In need of a vacation

We've been so, so busy, we all need a break. Thankfully, that break is coming, in just three days: we can't wait to spend a long weekend at the cottage in Canada!!

But before we get there, we had to get through this past week.

Daddy daycare went wonderfully, and Brian was very thankful for his opportunity to spend one-on-one time with his boy. They went shopping, where my prediction was proven right, and the pair was stopped about a half-dozen times by baby ooglers. That was Brian's first solo experience with our little attention magnet, and he didn't believe until he lived it that complete strangers would stop and talk to the pair of them. In shrill little baby voices that sound completely idiotic coming from strangers.

And they went to the park, on walks and to visit one of Brian's clients. And I'm sure despite Mama's arguments for the contrary, there was probably a little bit of Wonderpets in there, too.

And when I got home on Thursday, I got the sweetest, most wonderful recognition of all I do in a day's time watching Shorty. My beloved husband gained a new understanding of just how hard it is to get things done while watching a baby.

Let alone a baby who now moves on his own. In just a week he's mastered crawling and can now even go over and around obstacles. And naturally -- since his entire room and parts of our living room are covered with vibrantly colored animals and pieces of plastic crap made for babies -- naturally, the most appealing "toy" to my boy is any plug he can find stuck into the wall and the cord that trails from it. We actually found him sitting on the floor of his room, "flossing" with the cord from his monitor last week. So one of Daddy's shopping trips was to Home Depot for plug inserts, and most of them have been installed.

Oh, and he started pulling up on the crib, so we dropped it a level.

I gotta admit, watching a baby with increased mobility is tiring (although quite entertaining), and it brings me back to the early days where he needed me so much I couldn't complete a single load of laundry. I can't leave him alone for more than two minutes anymore, since that's the totality of his attention span, before he loses interest in his toy or book or food and starts crawling towards the nearest outlet.

And because Daddy had a long weekend of deck building, Mama was the solo baby watcher (and vacation planner/packer) for almost the entire three days off work.

But so, so much progress was made. Here was the back of our house three weeks ago, and below is what two solid days of work accomplished. Thanks to Jeff and both Dads, we have most of a deck again!




We also finished up our swim lessons and fed/cleaned up after guests and deck-builders all weekend long. And now we're all tired and ready for the lake. There will an eight hour drive at night to get there and a solid day or two of work to accomplish to open the cottage, but the downside will be overshadowed by first boat rides, first fishes and lots of fun exploring a place we hope he'll get to visit fairly often over his childhood.

On the milk front

Apparently last week I just had a really low day. My new theory is that it was because I haven't been diligent about taking my fenugreek on weekends, so that led to low output last Monday. Because I was back up to 10 ounces on Thursday.

This weekend I made a concerted effort to take the pills as they're meant to be taken, so we'll see how things go this week.

Daddy Daycare, Day 1

All the babysitting grandparents are out of state today and tomorrow, and I'm working an extra day this week.

So that means Daddy Daycare for the next two days.

Brian's looking forward to spending time playing and running errands with his boy, and I'm excited for them to have the one-on-one time together. I'm also a little anxious about how the day will go (I just informed Brian he can't let the yogurt sit on the counter for five hours until lunch, and I think stopping to check on Oscar the cat, visiting a client, shopping at Giant and running through Costco is an aggressive mid-morning outing for Chicken), but I tend to be overly planned and cautious.

So as I head out the door for work, I leave my baby napping in his crib and Daddy preparing the hommous smear on bread for lunch.

Have fun, boys!

Drying up

I'm sad to say, I think I am, despite the oatmeal and fenugreek. Or at least I'm just not reacting to the pump anymore.

4.5 ounces over four pumps is a sad disappointment. Pretty discouraging. I remember the days, not that long ago, when I could get 16 or 20 ounces in those same four pumps.

Screw baby-led weaning on my days off. Those are my opportunities to boost supply whatever little bit I can, so I "remind" Cayden all day long how much he wants milky snacks. But I can tell he's not drinking what he used to, because now he's downing about six ounces of water from a sippy cup each day.

So here's the math I'm wrestling now:
- at least 29 work days 'til my little guy's first birthday
- 38 frozen baggies, 5 ounces each
- daily pump output as low as 4.5 ounces

Uggh, this is more complex than calculus. And loads more stressful.

Sucking up the Love, the unabridged version

What a wonderful long weekend it was.

We connected with other moms and babies at group on Thursday, celebrated two birthdays over the weekend, splashed it up at our second-to-last swimmin' lesson, enjoyed some wonderful outdoor relaxation in gorgeous weather and really squeezed as much living and loving out of a weekend as we could.

Cayden's little personality is in full force, and he made my four days with him simply joyful. He is full of smiles and shouts and giggles and big, wide, brown eyes that can't take in this exciting and colorful world fast enough. And when he's not happy being happy, he's happy being sleepy (he's become a wonderful, fairly predictable napper) or he's decidedly unhappy, which ironically makes me happy in the smallest, most unexpected way. Because I can't resist smiling on the inside -- and sometimes giggling outwardly -- when I see his spitfire little temper simmer and boil over to communicate he wants something he's clearly not getting. The boy is a spitting image of his Daddy, but that -- the turn-on-a-dime tantrum throwing that may or may not be rational -- that, is completely and totally his Mama.

So we spent the weekend snuggling, laughing, playing, learning. And kissing. Lots and lots of kissing. In fact, Cayden may or may not have given his first kisses to Grandma Barb Friday evening. If a mouth, open-wide and sloppy, with a little tongue sticking out to facelick on command at "Give Grandma kisses" is considered a kiss, then we have a kissing baby. And while it was ridiculously adorable to watch, it was also a little uncomfortable as Daddy pointed out that open-mouth tongue kisses probably aren't appropriate for at least another decade and a half.

Four days spent very busy, but busy in the best, most wonderful way: celebrating life's everyday pleasures and cherishing our time together spent simply loving.

And experimenting with fun new baby gadgets. Cayden fits perfectly into his beach chair, and the Sundome that has been collecting dust in the nursery for over a year was broken out. And we made grand plans for baby pools at multiple houses this summer and even splurged on a racecar pool float for trips to big pools this summer.












We wiggled our toes in the grass for the first times this spring -- we waited way, way too long for that this year -- and Cayden discovered that handfuls of green grass and brown, dried grass clippings are ticklish, even if not so tasty. We planned and planted, and now we excitedly let nature take over, anticipating the fruits (well, veggies, really) of our labor, hoping and praying our garden grows us wonderful, fresh summer treats in a few weeks.

Cayden even got to sleepover with Auntie 'Cole and Uncle Will Saturday night, which meant Mama and Daddy got to sleep in for the first time in weeks on Sunday morning. And then when we walked in to pick the Chicken up, as soon as he saw us he grinned the biggest, widest, tooth-baring grin and squealed the best squeal I've seen and heard in days.

And Auntie 'Cole got to witness a big milestone Sunday morning. Grandma said, "It wasn't pretty and it wasn't fast, but it was definitely a crawl." And she's right on all three counts: it looks awkward and cumbersome, he's not setting any speed records, but he is definitely, finally crawling. After months of dry-humping and weeks of creeping and half-crawls-half-belly-flops, Cayden now deliberately and purposefully positions his arms and legs in a somewhat coordinated effort to move forward. Oh, and he figured out how to get into and out of a sitting position all on his own.

Butt bumps aside (we're thinking the Coxsackievirus has to clean up here in the next few days), it was a pretty darn good weekend.

Cayden is nine-and-a half-months old, and he makes my heart swell, my soul smile and my breath catch every time he crosses my mind. I am falling in love more and more every day, and this exhiliarating freefall is surprisingly intense and all-consuming.

Sucking up the love

We've had an absolutely wonderful week. One that was almost completely ordinary, yet so extrordinary and heart-warming at the same time.

More on that later, should inspiration strike.

But here are a few quick photos to hold you over.

My beloved's crazy, crazy hair. Oh how we love punking him out at bedtime.


"Wheeeee" on the swing:


And some swimmin' pics. I don't know who likes swimmin' lessons more, Mama or baby-Cayd.

Because I can't get enough sleeping baby pictures

From this morning, when Daddy and Mama both had to sneak out of bed. Chicken slept until 7:30 a.m.

I have now had to re-do his "Zzzz" pages of his first-year album three or four times because I think I'm done with sleeping pictures, and then he goes and sleep poses for another can't-bear-not-to-include it picture.

Mother's Day 2010

The optimistic viewpoint, recognizing the positives: Mama and Daddy are glad this is a recurring holiday, because that means Daddy has opportunity after opportunity to do a better job in coming years.

Giggle.

Yesterday was one of those life-gets-ahead-of-you-and-suddenly-everything-is-confused-and-tense kind of days.

Brian went out shopping at the end of last week for Mother's Day cards, and I remember thinking how sweet it was when he came home and showed me one, pulling it out carefully from the bag and only giving me that. one. card. Because surely he had a card for me in that little baggie, too, right?

Fast forward to Sunday morning, when Cayden woke Mama at 4 a.m. for a quick snack, then again at 6:45, when he came into the family bed for an hour before assuring all parties involved he was ready for the day at 8. Mama had a glass too much wine Saturday night, watching trashy TV at home while Daddy played Risk with friends, (Yes, my 31-year old husband and his adult friends played a board game on a Saturday night until 10:30 p.m.) so she suffered through a headache all Sunday morning, adding insult to injury you'll discover below.

The morning progressed through cleaning, cooking, preparing for the work week, prepping the baby's things for the week and a variety of other chores. Three-and-a-half hours flew by without so much as a recognition of my first Mother's Day, before we had to load the car for the trip to Brian's parents house, where we were helping coordinate a Mother's Day lunch for his mom and grandma.

So I quietly festered all morning, repeatedly thinking to myself, "He can't really have forgotten; he's so thoughtful with this kind of stuff. Maybe he's got some kind of surprise planned. He had to have seen the Mother's Day card from my parents, sitting out in the open on the kitchen counter."

So we jump in the car and head out, when Brian turns to me and says, "Sorry I forgot to wish you a happy Mother's Day this morning. This is new for me. You've never been a mom on Mother's Day before." So I thanked him for the apology, then sat in stunned silence, as I realized he had forgotten. No card, no flowers, no special-ness at all. I was hurt and disappointed.

Then the check out clerk and the door checker at Costco wished me a Happy Mother's Day, which made me even more upset. Complete strangers wished me a Happy first Mother's Day, but my beloved partner forgot. Sucky, sucky morning.

So we celebrated Mother's Day with a big lunch at Brian's parents' house. When Brian's mom asked me what Brian did for my first Mother's Day, she was horrified to hear not much.

Finally, the day winds to a close and we head back home to give Chicken his dinner and get him ready for bed. As I got the baby dinner out, Brian told me he wanted to feed Cayden, and that I could take the dirty diapers into the nursery and take care of them. Great, I thought. What a fitting end to a disappointing day.

And then I walked into the nursery and found my card on the changing table. It was the most perfect, most beautiful first Mother's Day card I could imagine. It made me cry immediately, both for the beautiful words therein and for the fact that my love didn't forget. I knew he couldn't have.

Turns out his plan just went awry first thing in the morning. He had intended to bring Cayden into bed in that morning, letting him hand me my Mother's Day card before I even got out of bed. You know, the perfect scene from a movie where Daddy sneaks out of bed, careful not to wake Mama, and lets the baby gnaw the corner of the card just long enough to add his own personal "signature", but not so long as he ingests too much ink or paper. Then the music swells just as baby's little fingers tickle Mommy awake with the card in-hand, and the whole family of four (since Spike the cat is snuggling into the scene, too) cuddles under the covers to start Mama's first Mother's Day with a beautiful card, the perfect sentiment and kisses all around.

Instead, my headache prevented me from sleeping after 4 a.m., so I got the baby as soon as I heard him rustling the second time. And then Brian couldn't figure out the right time to give me the card after that, befuddled that his plan was foiled and amidst the morning of pissy chores. So the more and more sad I got all day, the more and more sorry and uncomfortable Brian became, knowing the whole time there was this perfect card awaiting, if only he could find the perfect, meaningful moment to deliver it.

In the end, it was a good day spent with family, and I got a card I will cherish for many, many years. I also got a promise from Brian that holidays will be recognized and surprises delivered as early as possible in the mornings from now on. No matter how plans are thrown off by the unexpected.

We're all still learning and loving together, and that makes me smile.

His "firsts" make me remember my "lasts"

Last night Chicken enjoyed his first restaurant meal. Can you identify the restaurant from the little logo from the placemat?


We used the $20 giftcard one of Brian's clients gave him for Christmas, and took the baby to Hoss's! I laughed my ass off preparing for the trip: Daddy was so worried Hoss's would be jam-packed on a Friday night, that his dinner plans had us rivalling the blue-hairs in their let's-beat-the-crowd early arrival. He actually -- get this -- went into the nursery at 5:30 to wake the soundly napping baby so that we could leave for the restaurant. Which, by the way, is about five miles down the road. But this Daddy of ours had to beat all the other cars there by passing irrationally and tromping the gas. He was convinced every single car on 322, going east and west, was heading toward Hoss's and would beat us there, thereby creating a Godforsaken LINE we'd have to stand in forever with what he was sure by then would be a screaming, head-spinning, scene making devil-child.

So we arrived at dinner at 5:45 and ordered within three minutes of walking in the door. No line, no worries. I do get a kick out of people who have no reason to be familiar with babies and their complete unfamiliarity with babies. Our host, the 18-year old manager, first asked if Cayden would color with crayons or eat them (we passed on the crayons), then asked if we wanted to order a milk for him to drink with his dinner. I was so that oblivious, yet intending-to-be-helpful person a year ago! I mean how was this kid supposed to know that first of all, my baby is too young for cow's milk, and secondly, if you put a regular cup -- one without a leakproof lid, handles and a rubber straw or sip-top -- the bus boys would have a big milky mess to clean up from the table, booth and floor. Because Cayde LOVES TO THROW THINGS TO THE GROUND. Kind of a new thing for him, but he gets a kick out of it.

So anyway, last night he and I enjoyed the salad bar. For him: ham cubes, green peas, noodles and carrots from the chicken noodle soup, beans from the ham and bean soup, an egg yolk, peaches, pears and cottage cheese (hey, he stays quiet and entertained, as long as he's stuffing his face). And it reminded me of the last time I ate at Hoss's more than a year ago, and using last year's gift card from the same clients of Brian's. It had to have been in early March, because it was the weekend of the state wrestling championship. I remember wearning my new maternity jeans, which kept sliding down, and completely pigging out at the salad bar, enjoying the best meal I'd eaten in a long time since the first trimester was over and veggies were appealing again.

Then tonight Chicken shared my Mazza platter from Shab's: hommous, baba ghannouj, tabbooli, falafel and fatoosh. (Grandpa Bill calls it rabbit food and makes funny faces whenever he hears about my favorite Greek treat) Cayden loved it. Although it became very clear tonight that Mama can no longer feed baby finger foods. Food on a spoon? That's OK from Mama. But if it's a finger food, like a pita bite with some eggplant goo on it, Cayden's fingers have to put it in his mouth; no one else's. Which makes dinner a little messier, but a whole lot more fun.

Anyway, our shared dinner made me think back to the last time I had a Mazza platter (and incidentally, the last time I saw that skeeved out look from my father-in-law): the day after Chicken was born. Brian got me a Mazza platter from Shab's and brought it to me in the hospital for dinner on July 29. I totally savored it for dinner, but then I spent the rest of that tortured, trying first night guessing hopelessly at what would make my newborn stop crying. And I vividly remember the parsley smell of Cayden's cries and worrying he was reacting to my dinner.

Turns out he just has parsley cries every now and then; I smelled one last week, in fact.

Anyway, the last two dinners have inspired nice trips down memory lane for me, comparing Cayden's "firsts" to my last similar experience.

Oh, and here's on of the Chicken sleeping a few nights ago. My dad says I used to sleep like this, too. We now get at least one of these poses every day or so, at the end of a nap or at the end of a nighttime sleep cycle. Crack. Me. Up.

9-month well visit

30 inches tall, 23 1/2 pounds, and a head that's 19 inches around. That puts Chicken in the 90-95th growth percentiles.

The bumps we were worried could be chickenpox are not; instead, they are coxsackievirus. Cayden doesn't seem bothered by them, and we don't see any in his mouth, so Doc Baker advised we just wait them out, airing the bumps out as much as possible and taking giving Cayden a couple of bleach baths a week (two caps of bleach in the baby tub), to dry them more. Like father like son: I'd never heard of this virus, but Dad had it as a kid.

We also got the greenlight to add some fish into Chicken's diet, although he can't have shellfish until he's two years old. So tonight we'll make some tuna salad with ricotta for dinner. Mmmm!

(Sidebar.) It's funny to me, remembering how nervous Brian was about introducing new foods into Cayden's diet at first -- for choking and allergy fears. Well, he was always hesitant about the fresh, homemade foods I offered, although he was totally comfortable with jarred baby food, even though the jars combined new ingredients Chicken hadn't yet tried. Anyway, this Daddy who was so nervous about overfeeding and offering too many things is now insistent on regular doses of meat. If Brian had it his way, Cayden would have meat at lunch and dinner, every day. In reality, we make meats happen for dinner at least every other day. (End sidebar.)

A few other questions the Doc answered:

Fat baby feet are normal, even at nine months old. Normal, but challenging for shoe fitting.

But we learned Chicken only needs shoes for fashion and protection (i.e., from hot pavements, snowy streets, pebble-y paths). Dr. Baker says the societies with the least foot problems are barefoot societies, so he's not concerned about structured, supportive shoes for early walkers. Not that we expect walking anytime soon. I just like to be prepared.

Although I'm hoping we've settled into a new, comfortable, lower-output pumping routine (I just had to get used to the fact that 10 - 13 oz. is plenty for his daytime bottles, so long as I nurse him in the morning and night as much as he wants), I did ask about supplementing with formula to make sure Cayden is getting enough milk nutrition. Doc says to keep doing what we're doing (90+ percentile tells him it's working) and not to worry about supplementing with formula if we make it close, but not all the way to the end with breastmilk. He said that if we run low on milk getting toward 11 months old (I think my freezer stash could last to then), to go straight to cow's milk, rather than try formula. Again, I'm probably overthinking things and the boobs will continue to provide just fine through the finish line, but it doesn't hurt to be prepared with a backup plan.

Doc Baker is a proponent of whole milk after a year, rather than 2 percent. But two days of 2 percent a week at daycare is "splitting hairs" and not worth my effort to stock the daycare fridge with Cayden's own personal supply of whole milk beginning in August. Notice a theme so far? I'm so planned and prepared, I should have been a boy scout.

Chicken's eye boogers (big and green, still daily) aren't quite yet reason for concern, but if they're still as gross and frequent in three months, we'll get an opthalmologist in the mix to talk about tear duct opening.

And finally, when Dr. Baker heard Cayden's one-year check up is the day before his First Birthday Bash (this is absolutely our most exciting holiday this year, and since all holidays are capitalized, the First Birthday Bash shall be from here on out, as well), the good doctor suggested scheduling a nurse-only visit for his booster shots the next week, rather than potentially ruin the First Birthday Bash for him.

OK, so I just realized most of my questions for the doctor could have been answered at or just before his one-year check up. Mental note: be sure not to sacrifice today's joy and beauty in an effort to plan for tomorrow.

Destruction: Complete; Now we're ready for junk removal and construction

So after seeing the back of the house with nothing on it -- no deck, no sunroom -- my brother was right: our imaginations opened up, and we decided to go a completely different way than we were planning.

We're no longer putting a room back on the bottom of the house -- no office, no sunroom -- and instead we're going to do a patio under the deck. Removing the crappily constructed sunroom brightened the family room impressively, and we really like the openness and view of the yard from the concrete slab.

Next step is to get a dumpster and get rid of the mountain of crap that used to be a deck and room. Then Jeff will have lumber delivered to our house, and Brian and some talented family members (his dad, my dad, my brother, our brother-in-law, and anyone else who wants to show up and help out) will start building according to Jeff's plan.

The patio will likely wait until the fall or next spring; we have enough on our plates for the next few weeks, and Brian and I both want to take advantage of my last few months of four-day weekends with Shorty.

Some final "before" pictures: