Full-Fledged Toddler

V learned a week ago to escape from his crib. So, we removed the front gate, and he now has a toddler bed. He also now comes into our room, in the middle of the night, on his own two feet. At least he no longer wakes up the older ones by crying to be let out.

He has also learned how to take off his diapers if they are not covered by pants, and makes known his strong preference that I not put another diaper on him. He is attracted to electric outlets and plugs of any sort. He likes to move furniture. He also can open and close drawers, and likes to move clothes from one to another. He has discovered the laundry chute and thinks it is a good place for his brothers' shoes. He investigates any cup, glass, bowl, or plate left on the dining table - especially if it still contains something that might taste good. He likes to play with the tape dispenser when he finds it. He uses his push-car as a stool to reach the top shelf, where we keep all the interesting things like markers and cameras. He uses the kitchen stool to help himself to bananas and anything else that might be on the counter. One of the things frequently on the counter is our glass coffee carafe. We also tend to leave knives on the counter.

He is Terrifyingly Delightful. His grin lights up the room, and then I wonder if it means I have to go and rescue him, or his brothers, or our things from his power.

A part of his explosion of power is his power over words. His vocabulary is expanding every day, and his eyes light up when we understand what he is saying. Today he learned to say "jehdoh" (Jello).

Today's fortune: "The most important things in life aren't things." With a toddler in the house, that is a good thing.

Ten Minutes

Prompted by Jena, here I go:

Feeling exhausted, don't really know why. Too much sugar today? Or perhaps it's the punctuation after the unusually restful previous two days while E was visiting his grandparents and there were only two (humans) under four feet in the house (and two felines).

Feeling untethered, craving connection, but too tired to write, just surfing instead, visiting all you wonderful people, but almost too tired to leave comments, being voyeureuse, lurking instead. Why not get off, at least connect with the one other human in this house who is conscious?

Feeling a bit stressed I suppose. Vacation is supposed to be happy and fun. I suddenly realized that our laid back trip is coming up very soon, and no plans have been made, or at least they haven't been finalized. One must make plans, right? And charge up the portable movie player for the drive. And bring the tent. And get someone to care for the cats. And we'll only be gone 5 days and staying at the family cottage, but still ...

I am still making progress. The work room is getting more organized. Soon, I may actually be able to work in there, to cut some glass, make some progress on my project. But it feels good even just to put a few more things in order.

V is delightful at five months, eating sweet potatoes, rice cereal, and pears, playing in his jumperoo, on his baby gym, and sometimes, still, only wanting to be held. He has started to delight in baths, only an inch or so of warm water in the tub, sitting (with help) or lying down, splashing, cooing, giggling, and squealing with delight. His delight is my delight.

Didn't succeed in not editing this post, but at least I didn't edit it much.

I've been wanting to say, though, and haven't figured out how to change my profile quite the way I want it, that I go by rocketmom here, but my name is really Cheryl.

Baby Daze

Now I remember
that what goes in must come out-
Sweet potato poop.

Four months old

You have one wild hair at the front of your head, three or more times longer than the rest, and curly. It is difficult to catch on camera, but then you much prefer to look at my face than the camera lens. When you do gaze at me, you frequently have your head cocked slightly to your right. Is it because I always carry you with my left arm?

My dilemma at the moment is whether to write a few words about these moments I won't remember except as happiness, or to enjoy your happy, alert presence while daddy has taken R & E out to run errands. You don't much like looking at the computer screen either, and my typing, as well as our play, is hampered by holding you in one hand.

There aren't currently many other options, as you are also no longer content to sit in your bouncy seat for more than a few minutes at a time. When I try to leave you in the bouncer or on your baby gym, you purposefully grasp whatever you can reach - a toy, a blanket, a burp cloth - and shove it as far as you can into your mouth. When you find that it doesn't satisfy you, you tug at the strings that move me with your tears and your little pout.

Yes, you like to play and so play we shall. You push up with your legs, so that you can stand on my lap, and then fold back down to sitting. You usually tire of this game long after mommy feels the need to do something else, or your brothers demand it. Now, while they are gone, let us play.

Finished after *all* the boys are in bed.

Mother's Day

Happy Mother's Day to all moms out there, even if I am a few days late.

So I'm tired of always calling my boys by such formal monikers. From now on I will use their first initials instead, or at least interchangeably.

Got items from my "wish list" from the boys. Last week R asked if I had a wish list. I said I did, in my head, and told him the two things I could think of at the moment. So, I received a new wallet and this book from the boys, and bath and body goodies from AD. I also received, one day late, a handmade ceramic heart with a butterfly engraved in it from R. Artwork, or paperweight? I'm not really sure, but I imagine I will cherish it for years to come.

Later we headed out to Grandma's house. True to her word, my grandmother refused to call V by his given name. His middle name was given to honor her late husband, but rather than being happy, or appreciative, or any of the emotions we might have expected, she instead, in the guise of AD's birthday card in January, (before V was born), indicated her displeasure with our choice for his first name, by suggesting that we call him by "any other name". She told my parents she would only call him "baby", and she made good on that promise. Oh well, we can't please everybody.

Ironically, Grandma told me on Sunday that she always liked the name Annalee for a girl, but didn't give it to either of her daughters because of criticism from her mother-in-law.

Also saw mom again, who loves every minute she gets to play with said baby, dad, who spent a good part of the day running around the backyard with the older two, and my aunts, uncle, brother, and sister-in-law. A nice family gathering, with all the advantages (e.g. people to entertain the boys) and disadvantages (e.g. people getting on your nerves). We lucked out in arriving after most of the housework was complete.

So I managed to journal/post every day for three days in a row ... now that I've taken care of missing a few days, I don't have to stress about it, and can take it as it comes. This is for me.

Already

Already you are so big.



Gone are the tectonic ridges on your head, formed by skull plates overlapping during your birth. Gone, too, are the puffy eyes, the baby acne, your foreskin, and, mostly, cradle-cap.

Already your hands are bigger, your arms steadier; they reach out with purpose to grasp a toy, my hair, my breasts, or anything else near enough to reach.



Already you can roll from front to back.

Already you wake to let me know when you want to eat, rather than sleeping until I wake you. Already you weigh twice what you did when you were born, and your cuddly baby fat jelly rolls around your arms and legs. You have grown to fill your #2 diapers, and are outgrowing your teeny tiny newborn clothes.

Already you have adorned most of my clothes and yours with spit-up.

Already you have rejected binkies, only to later decide they are sometimes okay.

Already you have discovered that the beautiful little thumb of your right hand is soothing in your mouth, and in so doing, have already let me sleep in longer stretches.

Already you have moved to your second home.

Already you have learned to be heard in this chaotic house.

Already you laugh, coo, and smile, and you have already learned to use these talents to keep my attention. You are delighted by playing with mommy and daddy and your biggest brother.



Already you have learned that your brothers can be very loud, but they are sometimes fun to watch.

Already you look like your brothers.


The Painter at 3 months

Already your beautiful face, rapt attention, and smiles charm all who meet you.

Already your eyes are lighter; daddy says they will be like mine.



You are already three months old.

Baby Love

In response to the prompt from Shawn at Between the Lines, I am reaching beyond the daily trials of being mom, again, to remember the joys of babyhood.

My beautiful little one,

I love the fuzzy down covering your body, like a duckling;
your tiny toes, and your soft, smooth baby skin.

I love your milky, sweaty, scent;
part baby, part mama.

I love your already expressive face,
your mouth forming a little round 'o', as if in surprise,
and your as-yet fleeting smiles.

I love too your vocal expression,
your own language of coos and grunts,
and your contented hums while you fall asleep.

I love the way you snuggle in to my chest when you are tired,
and wiggle your way down to my breast when you are hungry.

I love the way you intently gaze at the toys above your bed,
trying to make sense of the world;
and the way you look at me with your soulful grey eyes,
trusting me completely.

I love the way your little hands reach out to grasp mine
and the way, through all the other changes, you hold me tight.

Introducing ...

the Composer.

Born Tuesday at 8:25 pm. All are healthy and tired.

Raincheck

Doctor said, baby and fluid levels look good today.
Come back tomorrow ...

(37 weeks +1 day by the doctor's count)

Nesting

The crib is ready in the corner of our room. The tiniest baby clothes are washed and in the dresser, next to the blankets and sheets and burp cloths. The next size clothes are easily accessible in a bin under the dresser. The baby slings (three different kinds) have been located and cleaned and are ready for use. The hospital will provide the infant car seat. My suitcase is packed. We've been reading to the boys about babies. Friends and family are on call.

But ... nesting is not resting.

Low amniotic fluids, baby too young, IV hydration. Induction if the fluid levels don't come up.

Was it all the racing around to get everything ready that caused amniotic fluid levels to drop? Or am I nesting because I sense the baby is getting ready to come?

The path of modern medicine is precaution.

My path now is to rest, and listen to my body. When I am thirsty, drink.

Written Thursday in the hospital with an IV in one arm. Fluid levels went up to doctor's satisfaction. I see her again on Monday, for another check.

Dancing Baby

Sometimes, I wish I could see what you are doing. I feel those little kicking feet and grabbing hands, the spinning and dancing. I can see your movements as I rest my hands on my abdomen, and they bounce up and down. When you are moving, I dare not use my belly as a book-rest, as the words will not stay in place.

Sometimes your head causes me to feel lop-sided, off-center. Sometimes, it is difficult to breathe. Then I gently caress your precious skull, nudge it out of the way so I am more comfortable. Sometimes you let me stay in comfort for a while before returning to your previous cozy position.

I don't remember feeling so much when your brothers were babies. Perhaps I was less attentive then, or perhaps my body was simply less worn down by the work of time and chasing two boys. There are other things that I don't remember: early contractions, not painful, but the odd sensation of an involuntary hug for my little boy, and those ailments that were probably the victims of selective memory: lower back pain, aching joints, too-frequent trips to the bathroom in the middle of the night.

Too, I sometimes feel over-sized and over-stuffed, ready to bring you into this world, although by the numbers you still have seven or eight weeks left in the warm confines of my womb. I am convinced, through my hazy memory, that I didn't feel this full with my previous babies until much closer to their due dates.

It is partly this feeling of fullness, partly stories related to me by friends and strangers alike, partly the abundance of feeling, and partly a dream last spring about a baby girl that leave me with a little fantasy, despite multiple early ultrasounds witnessing to the contrary, that I am carrying both a boy and a girl. I try to enjoy this fantasy for what it is, and take no expectations from it.

I wonder if you will arrive early, if the hospital is really baby-friendly, if labor will again be induced, if I will avoid anesthesia or drugs, and if you, like your brothers, will come quickly. But your birth will be what it will be, when you are ready.

Harboring expectations would not be fair to you, my dancing baby boy, who, like your brothers, reminds me to look at the world with new eyes.

Front Porch

(not raw, but half-baked)

A bird serenades me
the warm sun caresses my skin
an airplane drones its path from here to there
parrots cackle.

The buzz of a large insect catches my attention
When I open my eyes I discover instead
a hummingbird has come to visit the bird of paradise.

Cars hum along their concrete path,
not knowing I am here.

A bit of music wafts on the breeze.

Leaves, brown and dry
rustle on their limbs before
fluttering to the ground.

Wind chimes tinkle and
the rope clangs
against the flagpole
across the street.

An old man rattles past
pushing a walker
his leg bound
in a large bandage.

Mysterious specks of light
(dust, pollen, rain?)
drop from the trees
to the ground.

Baby rolls over
tells me to sit up straight
and breathe.

Flower stalks waver in the wind.

Cars drone on,
the road rumbling with their passing.

The breeze tickles my toes and
cools my cheek.

And the serenade is back.

Live now with me baby
soon you will know these wonders on your own.

Linked to Wrapped Emotions, The Gift of Every Minute.
This moment was a gift to me this week.

Time Compresses

At my OB appointment yesterday, I asked my doctor when she thought I should go on maternity leave. I had been planning on 38 weeks, as that is what I did for the first, and it seems to be some kind of standard. I was thinking (hoping?) that she would say I should go out a few weeks earlier, but her response floored me. "How about 30 weeks?" Um, that's just two weeks from now (different due date than I used for my countdown). "Well, how about 32 weeks then, but if you feel like you need to take off sooner, just do it, and we'll make the leave retroactive." Um, okay ...

Well, that certainly puts a new frame on things!

I told my boss this morning that I would be going on leave before the end of the year, that my last day would be December 20. What I didn't have the courage to say yet is that I won't be coming back.

AD and I talked about my reluctance to make my decision final last night. I told him I am scared to do so, but I don't know why. (Does it really matter why? Will naming my fears make them go away?) But when he posed the question, "why would you go back?", all I could come up with is how much work there is still to do on these projects, and my sense of obligation to those projects and to the people involved.

But I also have obligations to my family, and most importantly, to myself.

As the doctor said, "the work will always be there." My boss will find someone to take over while I am on leave, whether I have finished 2 or 5 or 28 things on my to do list before then. And once someone else is handling the work, I'm sure they can capably continue to do so when I don't come back.