ode to a neglected baby book

The NaBloPoMo rules are one post per day. They don't really address when that post gets published, right? Yeah, this one is late. Moving on.

Sticking with the theme of running late...

I've fallen behind on updating Elliot's baby book lately. I've missed writing down his last six teeth (up to 14!), and I'm woefully behind on documenting words, favorite activities, etc. I'm going to scan back through the blog and see if I can fill in some blanks. So that I will have this post to look back on next time I need a reference point, here's what Elliot is up to these days. My apologies for the boring you all with this nuts and bolts-y post.

Favorite books: Go Dog Go, There's a Wocket in my Pocket, The Itsy Bitsy Spider, and the San Francisco book I can't remember the name of right now.

Favorite toys: Trains, trains, trains, and puzzles. Oh, and trains. The kid is obsessed. He has a bunch of different train toys, train puzzles, train books... you name it. My parents bought him a few Thomas engines and cars the last time we were out to visit him and he loves them. The seal has been broken on the branded toys. We had a good run. ;-)

Favorite songs: His faves to sing are The Old Lady Who Swallowed The Fly, two versions of If You're Happy and You Know It (especially the shouting Hooray part), and the Alphabet Song. He sings the last word of each phrase in these and it's so cute. His favorites to listen to and/or dance to are all of the songs from All Aboard (an album M had as a kid), The Vowel Family and Roy G. Biv (both TMBG). Oh, and The Sign by Ace of Base. I kid you not.

Best trick du jour: We toss all of his sippy cup parts into a big bin in a cabinet and pull out pieces as we need them. It's a tall (5 foot?) pantry-style cabinet with pull out bins, so not super easy to get into. Still, Elliot has learned to open the cabinet (by pulling the dishtowel that is hanging on the cabinet opener, which is at the top of the tall cabinet), pull out the wire bin, find a matching cup and lid (including by color), close everything up, stand on tiptoe to place the cup and lid juuuust on the lip of the counter top, come to us and take our hands, then lead us into the kitchen requesting juice along the way. He does this every day when he comes home from school, and a few times a day on the weekends. It's pretty impressive to watch, actually! M decided to see if he'd do it in reverse so she handed him the pieces of his cups straight out of the dishwasher. Sure enough, he took them to the cabinet, opened it up, put the pieces away, and closed everything behind him. The funniest part is that he'll only take one or two pieces at a time, and he closes the cabinet between each trip. This means the activity generally takes long enough to get the whole dishwasher unloaded while he is making his trips. Surely our time with this is limited. I know it won't be long until he realizes he can leave the cabinet open and the bin pulled out between trips, but it sure is handy for now! 

Runners-up for best trick: He can identify all 26 letters by name and/or by the name of the item pictured under the letter on his ABC puzzle, and when we count from 1 to 10 with him, he says about half of the numbers on his own. 

He mimics everything we say. Everything. Neither of us swear very often, but there have been more than one sh!t choruses after something was forgotten or dropped, so we're working on cutting that out completely. I love, love, love the way his toddler mouth sounds wrapped around octopus, butterfly, Oh no!, please (peas), thank you, bless you, again, spoon (boon), and of course, I love you. He also mispronounces blanket as "bacon" and meow and "laooow" and I really hate to correct them because they're just so cute. :-)

Last week, he went through this really funny hat obsession. He came home from school one day and I tried to take off his hat as we came into the house, but he grabbed it back, crying "My hat! My hat!" He placed it back on his head and there it stayed through playtime... and dinner... and right into the bathroom to be taken off with the rest of his clothes for bathtime. The next day, we went through the same routine upon arriving at school. I told his teacher about the night before and said he might demand to wear his hat all day. (He was wearing a brightly striped hat with a pointy spire on top and one of the other kids was following him around saying "Nice party hat! I like your party hat!" LOL!) I left him sitting at the table eating cereal in his hat and picked him up sitting in the same spot coloring, hat on head. I pulled it off for a moment and his hair was damp and matted underneath. His teacher confirmed that he had worn it all day. This lasted for 2-3 more days and then it was done. Not sure what it was about but we got some good laughs (and pictures) out of it!

reunited (and it feels so good)

The injury post has been tabled for another day (I know, you're so bummed) because I just got the best news and I'm too excited not to share. My BFF In Loco Parentis is moving back to our neck of the woods!! She just called me to share the good news on her way back to the airport from the interview in which she was offered the (super amazing incredible) job.

She and I met in TownA for undergrad and then, amazingly, both moved across the country to TownB for separate grad programs at the same university. After graduation, she took a job several states away and we haven't been able to see much of each other since then. Her son is almost a year old and our kids have never met. But that is all about to change because THEY'RE MOVING BACK! In two short months they will be living right down the road. Literally. I couldn't be more thrilled.

P.S. I was given full permission to breach blogger etiquette and share someone else's news. I believe the direct quote was "I better get a Na-Blo-Po-Whatever mention for this." :-)

Early Civics Lessons

Election Day 2008:

Election Day 2010:

And a bonus Election Day pic, taken this evening after a blood-curdling face plant on the patio. :-(

Speaking of injuries, E had a major one a few weeks ago. I'll fill you in tomorrow. It's much easier to talk about now that everyone is fully mended. :-/

my mother's daughter

When people asked me what E was going to be for Halloween this year, I answered that he was going to dress up as a child whose mother can't sew. The point is, I knew up front I had likely set my sights too high.

My mother made all of my Halloween costumes when I was a kid. I was Raggedy Ann, Strawberry Shortcake, a clown, a red crayon, a car hop, a mime, a robot, a fairy, a pirate, a Care Bear (the rainbow-bellied one, thank you very much - my root, perhaps?), and several other things, all lovingly crafted in the wee hours of the morning by my mom who worked full-time outside of our home, commuted an hour to and from work each day, did all of the laundry for our family of four and cooked (and served family-style) 95% of the dinners I ate from birth to age 17. I have memories of falling asleep on her bedroom floor, listening to the hum of her vintage sewing machine and waking in the morning to find expectation-shattering works of art laid across the foot of my bed or draped over a chair. Somewhere in all of that, those costumes became hard-wired into my psyche as the mark of a Real Mother.

I always knew that when I had my own children, I would make their costumes every year. After all, I was going to be a Good Mother. Elliot was seven months old on his first Halloween and I flat out missed the boat. The holiday completely snuck up on me and before I knew it I was purchasing a sock monkey costume online (which turned out to be perfect) and promising that would be the first and last costume I would buy him. M and I even picked out the pattern for his 2010 costume right then and there - a whole year in advance. I asked for and received a new sewing machine for my birthday so I would have no excuse this time around.

I should pause for a moment to let you know that I know this whole "mark of a good mother" business is ridiculous. I have known it all along. I'm a licensed mental health provider - I know crazy when I see it or, um, live it. Every time I told someone about my rationale for wanting to make his costume and they looked at me warily, as if trying to determine how to best confront my delusions, I held up my hands and said I know, I know, it's silly. I can't explain it; it's just one of those things.

I bought the fabric early - over a month in advance - and started cutting that night. Things got off to a decent start. And then I hit the sleeves. Oh my god, the sleeves. No matter what I did or how many youtube tutorials I watched, I could NOT get them to ease in correctly. Each time I ripped out a seam, I cursed at the holes it left in my cheap fabric. I finally decided to take a few days off... and I beat myself up mercilessly the whole time. I chastised myself for thinking I had the skills required to sew a costume from scratch. I reminded myself over and over again that I am not my mother, and sewing is just one of the many skills of hers that I am woefully deficient in. It sounds bad to spill that out here, but hang with me for a minute, because I think something positive came out of it.

My mom rocked Home Ec in high school, especially the sewing part. Seriously. She won an award for it her senior year and then proceeded to sew a full-length, fully-tailored coat to wear over her senior ball dress. A few years later, she sewed her own wedding dress. She is a very skilled seamstress. I am not. I never had to learn; I had her. But there are things I am better at than she is. I can teach Elliot about music and theater and visual art. I can show him how to see the big picture, plan things out, and see them through. I work in a field that will keep my finger on the pulse of social issues and I'll be able to talk with him and his friends about them in a relevant way. I need to use these things to make myself a Good Mother, instead of just trying to replicate the meaningful things my own mother did. I need to Do Me well, instead of Doing Her at eighty percent.

Armed with my new outlook, I went back to the costume and figured I needed to just finish the darn thing and then decide if it was wearable or a shopping trip was in order. Having given up the dream of making the perfect costume, things moved a bit more quickly. I attached the sleeves - not beautifully, but functionally - and made my way through the rest of the costume one late night at a time. Luckily for me, there was nothing left to sew that was anywhere near as difficult as the sleeves had been and toward the end of the project, I was turning out pieces that looked... dare I say it... good.

If I calculate my labor at $15 per hour and add in the cost of materials, I figure his gnome costume set us back around $185. But oh my, will you take a look at the finished product?

He wouldn't wear the beard. Not even for a millisecond.

When I look at those pictures, a whole new lesson (reminder?) emerges for me: It's okay to do something even if you can't execute it perfectly. This is a tough one for me as my monogrammed baggage contains some exceptionally maladaptive perfectionist qualities. I'm really glad I made his costume and I want to do it again next year. I plan to skip the angst and self-flagellation next time around, though. I'll be sure to let you know how that goes. ;-)

I'm in

There are 375 unread items in my reader. (gulp) I haven't glanced at the thing in 2-3 weeks, other than the 5 posts that show in the top of my reader gadget on my google homepage, and I've only read a handful of those. This is partially due to having been ridiculously busy for the past few weeks, and partly about a needed break from technology. That said, I have decided to do NaBloPoMo again, which means you'll be seeing quite a bit more of me for the next month, and I promise to see more of you during that time as well.

Hope everyone is having a happy and safe Halloween!

puzzle master

I have finally triumphed over technology. :-)

growing up but not out and other updates

Elliot had his 18-month check-up on Monday. In the last three months, he has grown three inches and lost three ounces. This puts him around the 75th percentile for height (33in.) and just over the 50th for weight (26lbs. 5oz.).

He has 12 teeth with "several more" about to break through, per the doctor's observations. He rarely uses said teeth for eating; it has become a monumental struggle to get anything except fruit past his lips these days. He does quite enjoy brushing said teeth and would do so 10 times a day if we let him.

His doctor seemed underwhelmed by his preference to eat crayons rather than color with them, downright disappointed with my confession that he still gets a bottle at bedtime, and drop-jaw amazed by his mad puzzle skillz. (She had a color/shape sorting thing in the exam room and he consistently put everything on the right pegs which she deemed "pretty remarkable" for an 18-month old. Ha! She should see him do his alphabet puzzle! Perhaps you will see him if I can manage to upload the video I took yesterday.)

He seems to be starting to grab onto different names for us. We've been trying to plant seeds of Mom/Mommy for me and Mum/Mummy for M but we knew in the end it would be his decision. He seems to be going more in the direction of "Mama" for me and "Muh" for M. Hey, whatever works kiddo. He has also (finally) started saying his own name. Well, sort of, except he pronounces it "Luh-T" with the T being its own excessively crisp and clear syllable. It's by far the cutest thing he's done. This week. :-)

I started sewing his Halloween costume last night. Lord help us all.

one point five

I'll keep this brief because I am oh-so-tired, but today is Elliot's 18-month "birthday" and I feel like that deserves  a moment of my time.

Here's my take on what rocks about having an 18-month old. I thought of this as we were driving home from work and school this evening. My car needed some work done on it so M and I traded vehicles, which meant I was in her pick-up, which meant E was on the seat beside me* and I could see and talk to and tickle him at will. When Elliot was a newborn, my love for him was primal; rooted in some evolutionary sense of ownership and duty. I am his mother, he is my son, of course I love him - that sort of thing. I made him from scratch, for heavens sake. At 18 months, I find I love him more because I really, really like him. His personality has taken on dimension and he has characteristics I can count on. I can honestly say I enjoy his company. He has turned into such a sweet little boy; kind, clever, talkative, adaptable, and happy, but with a temper. I feel like I'm finally getting to "meet" him as a person and not just a baby, and while I know (hope?) I would love him unconditionally, I'm thrilled to find I like him as much as I do.

*I would hasten to tell you that yes, we disabled the passenger airbag, but M's car is so old, it doesn't have a passenger airbag to disable. So, yeah. It also doesn't have power steering (or power anything for that matter) and it is sorely overdue for a paint job. Poor M. She really needs a new car. Guess it's time to buy a lottery ticket.

back from vacation

Sorry for the radio silence. Shortly after my last post, E and I ran away to my parents' house for a week with no internet, no cell phone and lots of beach time. It was awesome. The adjustment back to normal life has been a little rough, but we're getting there. I have about a hundred posts in my reader to get through, and that's only because I deleted anything that wasn't from a personal blog. I hope to be caught up with everyone soon.

Speaking of my last post, I'm leaving it up for now. I can't figure out a way to hide it without deleting it altogether and your comments are just too kind to lose. Thanks so much for all the support; I know the happy face was harder to find for some than others. You all are very good friends. :-)

So about that trip...

(the mystery shadow is my brother)

coming clean

I have gone back and forth (and back and forth) about whether or not to write this post.

There is an FET in our very near future. We’ve jumped through all the pre-cycle hoops the RE requires and the funds to pay for the procedure arrived in my shiny new FSA this morning. Our original plan was to do a transfer this month until we realized it would fall right on top of a trip E and I are leaving on tomorrow morning. Then, we learned the dates of a major trip we’re taking with BIL/SIL next year and realized it would be good to push everything back one more month. While it doesn’t seem possible that our FET will produce an actual child (20% success rate at our clinic), it seemed like a responsible move to at least consider the fact that I might end up pregnant, improbable though that seems.

I’m sorry for not sharing this with you until now. To date, I have told one friend about our plans. One. I have been coveting this fantasy world where M and I become pregnant with no one else knowing about it. Can you imagine? We’d be so… normal. I knew there were costs – specifically, costs to you, my cherished IF blog community – but I hoped that you’d be able to understand why I did what I did. I wrote my “coming out” post a hundred times in my head – hopefully to be a pregnancy announcement post, but maybe just a “here’s what we’ve been up to but it didn’t work” post – begging for your forgiveness for not telling you and explaining how going through the process NOT on a microscope slide was so important for my own healing and for my relationship with M. With our first pregnancy, I spent two years blogging and message-boarding every decision, every blood test, every setback, and every emotion. You all got me through it. M was there every step of the way, of course, but you were an integral part of our team. In hindsight, I have wondered how things would have been different if I’d turned more toward M during those times of need. Was there a cost to inviting so many people into what is typically a 2-person journey? Did I share things with you I should have kept between us? I don’t know the answer, but I feel secure enough to do things differently this time and see how it goes. It’s different going down this road a second time. I don’t feel as panicked or desperate as I did while TTC #1. (Not yet, at least. Check back with me after a couple of failed FETs and we’ll see where I am then.) My gut tells me it will be good for me and M, and that doing things in a more private way will go miles toward replenishing some of what infertility has taken from me. Can you even imagine getting pregnant with only you and your partner knowing you were trying? How bold. How fantastical. What must it feel like to have that much power over your environment? I was determined to try it.

But then there is the fly in the ointment, and that fly is you, dear readers. I can’t make peace with my decision because I know how deeply a surprise pregnancy announcement would wound you. I have taken too much from this community – from you – to act selfishly now. As I write this, I know it is the right thing to do. I just have one favor to ask of you: I really don’t want to talk about this again until we have news to share. If you’d like to leave a comment on this post, I would be touched and grateful to read your thoughts. But going forward from here, can we all just pretend you don’t know anything? I promise to bring back news whenever there is news to bring.

I know that some (many?) of you have That Feeling in the pit of your stomach right now. How greedy and presumptuous of us to be headed back into the stirrups already. How selfish of me to have waited until now to spill the beans. I know, and I’m sorry. I wish there was more I could do to mitigate that pain. Hopefully you can feel the reverence with which I hold your feelings, even as I share something I know may injure them.

I’m going to leave this post up for about a week and then I will make it private. I figure that will allow plenty of time for any of my regular readers to get up to speed, and you are the only people I feel I owe any disclosure to. I have been blogging (well, journaling I guess, since I haven’t been sharing them) our FET steps up until this point and my intention is to make all of those posts public at some point. I will add this post in with those to be (re)published in the future.

Again, I would be honored to read any and all comments you feel so moved to leave here. I just ask that once this post is sealed off, the information is sealed with it until sometime in the future when it is re-opened under my own (hopefully happy) terms.