One more visit to school, then the rest of our afternoon

And today, Miss Rose invited Cayden to participate in arts and crafts time!  He wasn't so sure about the frozen paint shape, and he was more interested in wiping the paint on his next-door-neighbor's hair, but it was so, so, SO fun to watch him engage in what will become daily creativity and sensory exercises.

These teachers really have this stuff down to a science: the rest of the kiddos at the table watch and wait their turns as each teacher works with one child at a time.  I imagined ten little hands smearing paint all over themselves while eating the paper they were to paint on, but Miss Rose and Miss Steph have everything under control.  The kids get a little artistic expression mixed with lessons on patience and fairness.

Cayden was even more independent today, and even shared toys with another little boy, completely oblivious to Daddy and my presence in the corner of the room.  I think this will be a great transition for him, come next Thursday!

When we got home this afternoon, after spending some time at Grandma and PopPop's getting ready for tomorrow's Big First Birthday Bash, I decided to try some arts and crafts time of my own.

So we got out the toddler crayons again (thanks to the early birthday present from Avery), and I'll be darned if Cayden didn't pick it up pretty quickly and create his first scribble-drawing for us.

Then the eldest cat puked, so I went into the office for a few minutes to clean it up. 

Silly me, leaving a one year old alone with crayon tips.

I returned to Cayden, in his room, with blue smears all over his face.  Thank God the people at Crayola are smart enough to create non-toxic crayons, because I'm sure we'll be finding a little chunk of blue in tomorrow's diaper.  I even had to brush his six little teeth, to find some white nubs under all that blue wax.

Oh, did I mention the younger cat ate the string off Cayden's Lil Snoopy?  Yeah, the red leash was apparently too much for the little hair-tie and shoe lace eating bugger to resist.  First we discovered the puppy earlier this week, with a six-inch leash, instead of the leash he came with when one of my generous co-workers passed the toy along.  Then yesterday Brian discovered the damn cat had a good inch and a half of leash hanging out his ass.  We waited a day for him to pass it on his own, then I took matters into my own hands and tugged it out this afternoon.

So in the span of an hour, I was blessed to have the opportunity to clean up cat vomit, pry crayon chunks out of my boy's mouth, then remove part of a child's toy from the other cat's ass.

It was a productive afternoon.  And I washed my hands A LOT.

Guess what else makes a great walker...

...a kiddo chair at the pediatrician's office.  My boy walked it all over the office, doing laps around the waiting area.  This was just before his haircut, hence the shaggamuffin head.

Chicken is doing just fine, and still in the 95th-97th percentile for weight, height and head circumference.  And now he's cleared for honey, egg whites and milk.  Peanut butter and shellfish will have to wait another six months or so.

Doc Baker called Cayden's out-pointing left foot (when he walks) "tortion", and said it should correct itself within a few years.  Mimi was glad to hear it's nothing to worry about.

First haircut: Now I know why they have lollipops at barber shops

He slept through the first few minutes, and after that dum-dums and Dragon: the Bruce Lee Story served as distractions from the clippers buzzing around his head.

We had hoped Daddy's barber, Cory, could give the first official hair cut, but he is on vacation this week.  But Jose did a great job, just in time for Saturday's party.

July 28, 2010

The one year anniversary of your birth.  And what a wonderful birthday it was, filled with heaping gobs of love and spoiling from all your family. 

A special shirt and ribbon for a special boy, who spent the day with Mimi, Grandma, Grandpa and Auntie ColeCole.  Your first candle flickered in a blueberry muffin after lunch.

And then you got to spend the evening with all the other side: Grammy, Grand-dude, Uncle Jeff and Aunt Lauren.  Your Uncle and Aunt planned a wonderful mini-party for your birthday dinner, complete with balloons (your favorite!) and cupcakes.  Splenda cupcakes, because they didn't want you to have too much sugar before bed.   Boy do you like love-you cupcakes.

And even though your party isn't for a couple more days, you got to open family presents throughout the day and play with new toys.

You got to stay up past your bedtime on your birthday, which scared Daddy but pleased Mama because I had been secretly hoping to be able to snuggle you at the exact moment you turned One. 

And I held it together all day long, I did, until bedtime.  When, after your bath and lotion and jammies, I snuck you off for some serious one-on-one cuddling.  And together, alone, the tears came fast and full.  You nursed yourself to dreamland while I whispered to you and prayed for you.  Thanked you and God for all the joy, blessings, lessons and fulfillment we've been graciously granted over the last year of our lives, the first year of your life.  Tears of happiness blended with tears of sadness, and before I knew it, your hair was soaking wet with all the love and pride pouring from my eyes. 

And then I realized a huge string of congested, silent-crying snot stretched from my nose to your face, and I couldn't help but laugh at the royal birthday sliming I was giving you in your sleep.

I recited your night-time prayer to you and whispered goodnight into your ear, just as the clock struck 8:31 p.m.  And then I laid with you quietly, until Daddy came in a couple of minutes later to steal his own kisses from our one year old boy, and wipe my tears.

Happy Birthday, my love. Thank you for making me a Mama, and opening my eyes to the wonder and bliss of this responsibility. You are my little slice of Heaven on Earth, and I love you more than you know.

Not quite one, yet

OK, so there's less than 13 hours to go, but Chicken isn't one year old, quite yet.

But since today is the big day, he got a special shirt and button to wear.

And he's polishing his pointing skills.  Pointing with a finger, that is, instead of his hand or fist.

Guess who suddenly likes walkers?

THIS guy.

He finally stood up behind his hippo at home last Thursday, a week before his birthday. And later that day he wobbled behind multiple walkers during his second visit to school.

Oh, he also really likes the doggie rocker at school.

And he joined the group to play, rather than stay solo on his own.

But back to the subject at hand: walking.  At first Chicken was unsure of walking behind the hippo on the hardwood (preferring it on carpet), but now he cruises down the hall much more confidently.  Granted, he's still not completely stable, but he's making progress. 

Oh, and there's standing.  This morning he let go of the coffee table and stood for a few seconds on his own (while holding the remote and trying to figure it out) before returning his hand to the table for balance.

On a positive note

The past week has been full of face-scrunching, arm-stretching hand-pointing -- as in pointing mostly with his entire hand, not quite aware that the pointer finger is key -- and enthusiastic OH's.

Maybe a few DaDa's sprinkled in there, and the usual CaCa's.

Plus one new one: Cheesh-sheesh. Any guesses? It's cheese, of course.

Cayden's vocabulary hasn't quite established itself with any clearly identifiable patterns of words and associations, but darned if he isn't trying to figure it all out.

Unsettled

You know that subtle gloomy feeling that sneaks in on Sunday evenings and Monday mornings, that slight dread for all the not-so-much-fun that the beginning of a week brings with it?

Yeah, multiply that by about a zillion and you get to where I'm at.

I'll attempt to keep the bitching at a minimum, but it's all I've got right now. Some inspiration, eh?

Last week ended my year of parental leave. I'm taking two paid days off later this week to round out my year of long weekends, and I get a lump in my throat every time I think about the end of this week.

The official end of infancy. (Even though Brian argues the boy hasn't been an infant for months)

The return of full-time work.

The start of daycare two days a week.

And other, yet-to-be-determined changes in the near future.

Yes, please, I'd like the clock to come to a screetching halt right about now. Because I'm just not that good at change.

I know Cayden will benefit immensely from the socialization his part-time school will offer. I know I've been luckier than many in having been able to work part-time for a year. I know -- from having returned to work part-time three months after Cayden's birth -- the anticipation is far, far worse than the changes themselves. I know we'll figure out a new routine of cleaning and errand-running and quality family time. I know there is so much to look forward to this fall. And I surely know our bank account could use a few full-time paychecks.

But that all that conscious knowledge in the back of my head doesn't stand a chance against the emotional, irrational thoughts at the forefront of my brain, and I'm desperate for things to stay the way they are now.

Back in October Brian repeatedly reminded me the gypsies weren't coming to take my baby when I had to part with him three days a week.

This past weekend he assured me my boy won't face a firing squad when I resume a full-time schedule next Monday.

I know my boy will adjust wonderfully. It's me I'm selfishly worried about. One day at a time, I guess.

If only each of those days could stretch on forever.

Ignorance may be bliss, but avoidance is survival

A week from today is the big b-day. But that's seven days off, so there's no sense wasting this long weekend worrying about that milestone.

Avoidance: it's become my primary coping mechanism of late. I haven't even put pen to paper in planning or ordered a single thing yet for Cayden's party next weekend. Well, except the photographer, our one splurge.

I just know the reality of his first birthday and the end of his infancy is going to crash down on me someday very soon, bringing with it heaving sobs and desperate wishes for more time with my baby boy. But I'm consciously avoiding that realization with all I've got, preoccupying myself with other things and not daring to think further ahead than the day in front of me.

Like a long weekend trip to Jim Thorpe for a lakeside picnic, a wine festival, deer spotting, woods walking, some small-town shopping and some good ol' family time.

Convenient, how living for today is the perfect cover for retreating from and making a deliberate effort to ignore the imminent future.

Cold Turkey

That's how we're quitting pumping and bottles: Cold turkey.

Because after 10 days away from the pump, I really couldn't stomach the thought of hooking up any more, knowing full-well that I have more than 20 baggies of milk left to get through my last six work days before Cayden turns one.

I had gone down to two pumps a day the three work days before we left for the beach, and I didn't feel any difference at all.

So this morning I left for work confident that my pumping days for my first-born are over. So confident in fact, I wore a real bra and a dress. You know, the kind of dress that would have to be pulled all the way up or all the way down to get to the boobies. The kind of dress that has only graced my body three or four times since Cayden was born, because it's just easier to access the boobs wearing tops and bottoms.

I did have my pump at hand just in case engorgement struck, but I didn't need it. The first no-pump workday in 8.5 months proved a success.

And since I was making a transition, we decided Cayden might as well, too. He's used sippy cups for some time now with water, but typically he still drinks pumped milk out of bottles (with newborn nipples, no less, because we never stepped up). He's had a sippy of milk every now and then, and other than a little spillage due to the faster flow, he's had no issue.

So today we sent a little extra milk to Grandma's (to accommodate said spillage), along with two sippys: one for water; one for milk. No bottles. And he seemed to do just fine.

Time to pack up the Avents and Ameda until next time around, folks!

But we'll keep nursing mornings, evenings and non-workdays for the forseeable future. I promised Brian that Cayden would be completely weaned by the time he's six, and I'm sticking to it.

Kidding! (kind of)

This one's for Aunt G.

Who regularly kids about the thousands of pictures we take of Cayden, who she swears is the most photographed kid on Earth.

Well, his first year album doesn't contain all 1,746 pictures (kidding, I have no idea how many pictures we have in all), but it does contain 258 photos and a bunch of blog posts in 71 pages.

And it's done, and will be here by his first birthday party!!!

And I decided not to post a beach review; instead, check out pages 58 through 63 of the book.

P.S.: if anyone else is working on a photobook or would like to order one by August 31, I can send you the code I used to get 50 percent off my book.

Fifth anniversary, at the beach

I can't decide which one I like better. 

Thanks to Rachel for the photos from yesterday!

Take care of the place while we're gone

Uggh.  A band of groundhogs has invaded our garden, despite our attempts to keep them out with a fence.

At least we got one decent harvest of cucumbers and yellow beans before the little one figured out how to dig under the fence and squeeze in to gnaw many of our plants to the ground.

So while we were looking forward to a plethora of beans, peas, tomatoes, peppers, squash and cucumbers when we got home from the beach, it looks like we may have a barren garden by then.

"Damn groundhog gopher assholes," as Brian so eloquently put it.

First visit to school

This morning Cayden got to visit school to interact with his soon-to-be classmates for the first time.

We're still so, so impressed with U-Gro.

Murals cover the hallway walls.

The Bear's cubbies, toys and arts-and-crafts display (on either side of the colored bears on the wall)













This is how you feed 10 kids at a time

Meeting Miss Rose (she won him over with Cheerios)


Exploring the play area


Checking out new friends














And taking off on a walk!


Oh, and here's the crazy indoor play gym Cayden will use on rainy days when he's bigger

Bad Mama. Bad, bad Mama.

Although I'm starting to feel better, I felt like a real ass for the past couple of days. Why? Because I blindly listened to the pediatrician's generalized, yet repeated advice, rather than tune into my baby and those who help care for him.

After a horrible, horrible few nights of sleep last weekend -- Cayden up every hour, and whining at one point for as long as 90 minutes -- I finally abandoned my hard-line, "he's got to learn to comfort himself and go back to sleep on his own; for God's sake we'll be at the BEACH in a week -- he's got to outgrow this neediness by then!" approach to consider that something else may be at play.

Coincidentally, his repeated "viral infections" in his diaper flamed up really bad this past weekend: white blisters on his nuggets, and a raw, red butt-crack.

When my mother-in-law pointed out for what must have been the seventh time that even Chicken's clean cloth diapers smell like pee (she doubted the doc's diagnosis long, long before I did), something finally cracked loose in my head to make me look at this situation in a new light.

To to the Internet I went: cloth diaper message boards, babycenter.com and Google. And after really minimal searching, it became abundantly clear that we were not in fact battling recurring viral infections; rather we were suffering a relatively common cloth diaper condition that many pediatricians are simply unfamiliar with, due to the prevalence of sposies today: ammonia burn.

**Insert deep, dark, ominous cloud of guilt that has hung over me for days**

Over time our diapers have built up ammonia, and now even the clean ones maintain the stuff, so that as soon as Cayden pees, the smell rivals that of cat piss. Having become quite familiar with -- and perhaps immune to -- the noxious smell of cat piss over the span of Spike's cathederized-way-too-many-times life, I really, truly thought that the strong ammonia smell from Cayden's diapers was just the smell of normal baby pee.

But the smell isn't the worst part. It's the ammonia itself, which is caustic enough to actually burn the poor kid's sensitive skin.

Yeah, I was letting my kid's pee burn his nuggets and butt.

But now we know what the problem is, and after only two days in sposies, Cayden's bits are nearly all healed up. And our entire lot of cloth diapers is going through a thorough stripping right now. Hopefully, a little bit of Dawn dish detergent, a little bit of bleach and a whole, whole lot of hot water later, our diapers will be as good as new and ready to use as soon as we get home from the beach.

Thank goodness he's too little to maintain any memories of the piss torture his mother put him through at eleven months of age. :(

Date night fail

Last night Uncle Jeff and Aunt Lauren were generous enough to offer to take baby-Cayd for a few hours, so Mama and Daddy could enjoy a date night.

But after a very, very busy weekend (daytrip Thursday, hosted friends Friday night, Saturday sawed/moved a tree then went to a graduation pool party) and very poor sleep lately (Cayden has been waking every hour or so for the past two or three nights), date night ended up being less than we had anticipated.

After struggling to figure out what to do on a fourth-of-July Sunday afternoon/evening, then struggling to decide what to wear to an early dinner out, then struggling to find a restaurant that would please both of us, we found ourselves at a little Italian place in Hershey.

But any plans for an extended date night were dashed, when, upon finishing dinner and two beers each, we decided to head home at 5:30 p.m. to take advantage of the baby-less peace and quiet. To NAP.


But Shorty had fun swimmin in his tub outside with Lauren and Jeff while Mama and Daddy got some much-needed shut-eye.

Cayden and Avery, sittin' in a tree

Remember that little romance I alluded to about a week ago?

Here are Cayden and Avery Friday night.


Besides the unbearable cuteness of little kids kissing, I get a kick out of this picture for another reason. Because it demonstrates how 26 pounds can look completely different on two different kids, since both of these tots are the same weight. And because it shows off the disproportionately large skull junior inherited from his Papa.

Yay for daytrips!

Today was a really, really good family day. A warm-and-fuzzy-feeling kind of family day.

Today we took a daytrip to Longwood Gardens in Kennett Square, a trip I'd been looking forward to taking with Cayden since we first visited the impressive horticultural exhibition last holiday season. We had a ball last winter, and I remember imagining then taking my little boy this summer, to see how the grounds, fountains and plant showcases would change from the Christmas displays.

We were totally impressed with the conservatory and displays of Christmas lights a few months ago, so we couldn't believe how much more there is to see and explore in warmer months!

We couldn't have asked for a more perfect day: bright sunshine balanced by refreshingly cool breezes and humidity-free, temperate air. Perfect for walking through the woods, meadow, fountains, conservatory and gardens. There is a really neat scent and fragrance exhibition throughout the Conservatory that Brian and I enjoyed (although we'd love to know how they concentrate all the smells into the little scent tubes that puff, puff the frangrances into your nostrils), and Cayden just took in all the colors and sights with big, wide saucer-eyes.

His favorite parts were the water displays. First he gawked at the Italian Water Garden, and an hour or so later he dove right in to the interactive Children's Garden in the conservatory, where there were water fountains to splash in everywhere.

He did miss the main fountain show at noon, because he was under the hooter hider enjoying a little milky snack. But the fountain show was a nice momentary rest for Mama and Daddy.

Then we explored the conservatory -- where the orchid room was as impressive as it was a few months ago, where we found the most amazingly fragrant rosemary we'd ever smelled and where we delighted in the water lily exhibition that was really, really mind-blowing (ever hear of giant water platters? C.R.A.Z.Y).

And shortly after the water lily exhibition, Chicken started rubbing his eyes, ready for a nap. So nap he did, in the Ergo, snug as a bug with his thumb and blankie tucked up under the privacy hood.

We kept walking, exploring the veggie gardens and perennial "idea garden", which, rather than inspire us with ideas about how to do our own home landscaping as it is is meant to do, actually intimidated us by all its beauty to tuck our tails between our legs and reluctantly realize that we will never, ever have the green thumbs and impressive flower beds we once thought we could. But that's OK, because we can always come back to Longwood to see how flower beds are really supposed to look.

And we finished off the wonderful daytrip with a picnic lunch -- gourmet wraps prepared and packed by Daddy for the big kids; bananas, yogurt and hummous bread for the little kid -- under wonderful shade trees..

This is exactly the kind of fun family time I want to over-stuff into the next month and savor like crazy before ...

Well, let's just leave it at that, because I don't want to ruin a wonderful, fantastic, perfect day with worries about what's to come.