This little cherub has filled my heart with happiness.
May you feel such love today and always.
Monday, February 14, 2011
Friday, February 11, 2011
SICK (Part One)
(…and unfortunately, I don’t mean that in a positive way, as so many of the college students I associate with do these days.)
Well, we’ve passed another parenting milestone: the first trip to the ER with our ill baby. I will hasten to add that all is well now. But it was definitely no fun.
Between Christmas and mid-January Dylan held onto a little cold that manifested only as a persistent runny nose and a little cough, as far as we could tell. Then one Sunday we took him to the “h*ppiest place on earth” (a story for another time…) and we noticed as the day progressed that his cough was deepening. He wasn’t coughing often – maybe just once an hour or so – and it didn’t seem to bother him much, but it sounded awful.
We didn’t notice the cough or runny nose getting any worse, but he did seem to really be “snoring” on Monday night, and then again when we put him down to sleep on Tuesday evening. With hindsight, we now realize we should have been more concerned about that.
On Tuesday night, I was already in bed around 10 p.m. when Dylan woke up whimpering. M. went in to comfort him, and I could hear the little guy really panting. After trying to soothe him a bit, M. brought him into our bedroom. Dylan looked and sounded like he was working awfully hard to breath. We decided to call the advice nurse at Kaiser.
I held the little guy who slowly fell back to sleep while M. spoke with her. She asked all kinds of questions that I could hear too. Was he blue? No. Was he unconscious? No! Did he seem dizzy or was he having trouble controlling his limbs? No. Fever? No. Was he eating okay? Yes, he had been. Were his lungs “retracting”? Because Dylan spent the first few days of his life in the NICU learning how to breathe better, we knew what that meant. We unzipped his jammies and, yes, his diaphragm was visibly being sucked in whenever he inhaled.
At that point, he woke up a bit more and started coughing his barky cough. The nurse could hear him. She suggested that M. hang up and call 911!
We were shocked, scared, and horrified that we hadn’t realized the seriousness of the situation. Unfortunately, it wouldn’t be the first time that night.
M. called and the dispatcher indicated paramedics were on their way. Dylan watched us with big eyes while we scrambled around to put on clothes, gather his diaper bag, and otherwise prepare for a possible trip to the hospital. I remember thinking how odd it was to hear sirens in the distance coming closer, and know they were coming for us. A few minutes later, the paramedics arrived along with a big fire engine, followed by an ambulance.
Dylan was so sweet and cute as the big guys in uniforms came into our little house. But we knew he must not be feeling really well because there were only a few of his characteristic “ooooohhhhs!” when he experiences something new and interesting.
The emergency personnel were really nice with him. They tried to give him some oxygen through a mask while they checked his vital signs, but he kept pushing it away. As we had 15 months ago in the NICU, M. and I tried to interpret the various numbers and “secret code” they were using to communicate and assess what was going on.
Eventually, they told us that they advised he be transported to a hospital. (Again, we were surprised.) They brought a stretcher in, and M. and I made a quick decision that I’d go with the little guy while M. followed behind in our car. Unfortunately, because it was apparently a busy night for emergencies, the hospital closest to us and with which we are most familiar was “slammed” and they let us know they’d be taking us to another area hospital.
I got on the gurney and held Dylan tight while they strapped us both in and loaded us in the ambulance. In a moment of brilliance, M. remembered Dylan’s Puppy and passed him into us. We gave Daddy a bunch of kisses before they turned the lights and siren on and off we went.
It was pretty surreal, and because Dylan clearly didn't seem in critical danger, it was all kind of interesting to me. Thankfully, I’d never been in ambulance before. I think that part was a lot harder on M. He didn’t know how his boy was doing or where the hospital was located. (In fact, when he arrived just a few minutes after we did, the ambulance driver let him know he’d followed a little too closely! Of course, I was grateful he was already there.)
I was curious about what would happen next. It was SO not like the TV show ER, thank goodness! We were shuffled around a bit by the EMTs and the hospital personnel, but fairly quickly moved to a small room designated for pediatric patients. There was just one other little girl there with her mom. Dylan soon was diagnosed with croup, which wasn’t a surprise to us.
We were told that croup is a very common childhood illness, typically caused by the same viruses that result in a cold or just a mild sore throat, if anything, in adults. It’s usually the swelling of the larynx, and because the bronchial tubes are so small in children, the airway is obstructed. In modern times in the U.S., it rarely gets as severe as it did with our boy…which makes me feel like an awful mother for not getting him treatment sooner.
They gave us a medicated nebulizer and instructed us to keep it close to Dylan’s face, which was a real challenge since the mist seemed to bother him and he’d push it away. (When it wasn’t in his face, he’d snuggle up on our shoulder and go back to sleep.) After listening closely to his breathing and giving him a chest x-ray, they decided to give him some steroids as well, at which point they finally shared that we’d be there “several more hours” and there was a possibility that he’d be admitted to the hospital. (Another shock.)
His breathing seemed to be improving, but at some point, they evaluated him again and decided he needed another treatment of the medicated nebulizer. It was about 2:30 a.m. when I encouraged M. (who was already exhausted from working hard on a work proposal) to go home. At least one of us should get some sleep. He did so reluctantly, and I assured him I’d give him a call if anything changed, I learned something new, or we needed him in any way.
Fortunately, at about that point, the other little patient was admitted to the hospital and moved, so we had the room to ourselves and could even turn out the light. I spent the next four hours lying on a gurney, repositioning a sleeping baby so that he’d get the steam in his face but it wouldn’t wake him up. Not an easy task, and I didn’t sleep a wink.
About 6:30 a.m., Dylan woke up and started to be his active self. A new shift of nurses was on, and a very nice one came and examined him and even ordered us some breakfast. Finally, the doctor returned and told me that typically, when two of the treatments are required, hospitalization is indicated, so they were recommending admission to the hospital. (Another shock, especially with a pretty happy baby I was having trouble keeping from squiggling out of my arms.) About 8:30 a.m., I was finally told they were making arrangements to transfer us – by ambulance – to the closest Kaiser hospital, since that’s where we are insured. I called M. – who was actually able to get about three hours of sleep – to fill him in, and he was already packing up to come back to the hospital. He arrived just as the guys for the ambulance service were preparing us for transport.
To be continued…
Well, we’ve passed another parenting milestone: the first trip to the ER with our ill baby. I will hasten to add that all is well now. But it was definitely no fun.
Between Christmas and mid-January Dylan held onto a little cold that manifested only as a persistent runny nose and a little cough, as far as we could tell. Then one Sunday we took him to the “h*ppiest place on earth” (a story for another time…) and we noticed as the day progressed that his cough was deepening. He wasn’t coughing often – maybe just once an hour or so – and it didn’t seem to bother him much, but it sounded awful.
We didn’t notice the cough or runny nose getting any worse, but he did seem to really be “snoring” on Monday night, and then again when we put him down to sleep on Tuesday evening. With hindsight, we now realize we should have been more concerned about that.
On Tuesday night, I was already in bed around 10 p.m. when Dylan woke up whimpering. M. went in to comfort him, and I could hear the little guy really panting. After trying to soothe him a bit, M. brought him into our bedroom. Dylan looked and sounded like he was working awfully hard to breath. We decided to call the advice nurse at Kaiser.
I held the little guy who slowly fell back to sleep while M. spoke with her. She asked all kinds of questions that I could hear too. Was he blue? No. Was he unconscious? No! Did he seem dizzy or was he having trouble controlling his limbs? No. Fever? No. Was he eating okay? Yes, he had been. Were his lungs “retracting”? Because Dylan spent the first few days of his life in the NICU learning how to breathe better, we knew what that meant. We unzipped his jammies and, yes, his diaphragm was visibly being sucked in whenever he inhaled.
At that point, he woke up a bit more and started coughing his barky cough. The nurse could hear him. She suggested that M. hang up and call 911!
We were shocked, scared, and horrified that we hadn’t realized the seriousness of the situation. Unfortunately, it wouldn’t be the first time that night.
M. called and the dispatcher indicated paramedics were on their way. Dylan watched us with big eyes while we scrambled around to put on clothes, gather his diaper bag, and otherwise prepare for a possible trip to the hospital. I remember thinking how odd it was to hear sirens in the distance coming closer, and know they were coming for us. A few minutes later, the paramedics arrived along with a big fire engine, followed by an ambulance.
Dylan was so sweet and cute as the big guys in uniforms came into our little house. But we knew he must not be feeling really well because there were only a few of his characteristic “ooooohhhhs!” when he experiences something new and interesting.
The emergency personnel were really nice with him. They tried to give him some oxygen through a mask while they checked his vital signs, but he kept pushing it away. As we had 15 months ago in the NICU, M. and I tried to interpret the various numbers and “secret code” they were using to communicate and assess what was going on.
Eventually, they told us that they advised he be transported to a hospital. (Again, we were surprised.) They brought a stretcher in, and M. and I made a quick decision that I’d go with the little guy while M. followed behind in our car. Unfortunately, because it was apparently a busy night for emergencies, the hospital closest to us and with which we are most familiar was “slammed” and they let us know they’d be taking us to another area hospital.
I got on the gurney and held Dylan tight while they strapped us both in and loaded us in the ambulance. In a moment of brilliance, M. remembered Dylan’s Puppy and passed him into us. We gave Daddy a bunch of kisses before they turned the lights and siren on and off we went.
It was pretty surreal, and because Dylan clearly didn't seem in critical danger, it was all kind of interesting to me. Thankfully, I’d never been in ambulance before. I think that part was a lot harder on M. He didn’t know how his boy was doing or where the hospital was located. (In fact, when he arrived just a few minutes after we did, the ambulance driver let him know he’d followed a little too closely! Of course, I was grateful he was already there.)
I was curious about what would happen next. It was SO not like the TV show ER, thank goodness! We were shuffled around a bit by the EMTs and the hospital personnel, but fairly quickly moved to a small room designated for pediatric patients. There was just one other little girl there with her mom. Dylan soon was diagnosed with croup, which wasn’t a surprise to us.
We were told that croup is a very common childhood illness, typically caused by the same viruses that result in a cold or just a mild sore throat, if anything, in adults. It’s usually the swelling of the larynx, and because the bronchial tubes are so small in children, the airway is obstructed. In modern times in the U.S., it rarely gets as severe as it did with our boy…which makes me feel like an awful mother for not getting him treatment sooner.
They gave us a medicated nebulizer and instructed us to keep it close to Dylan’s face, which was a real challenge since the mist seemed to bother him and he’d push it away. (When it wasn’t in his face, he’d snuggle up on our shoulder and go back to sleep.) After listening closely to his breathing and giving him a chest x-ray, they decided to give him some steroids as well, at which point they finally shared that we’d be there “several more hours” and there was a possibility that he’d be admitted to the hospital. (Another shock.)
His breathing seemed to be improving, but at some point, they evaluated him again and decided he needed another treatment of the medicated nebulizer. It was about 2:30 a.m. when I encouraged M. (who was already exhausted from working hard on a work proposal) to go home. At least one of us should get some sleep. He did so reluctantly, and I assured him I’d give him a call if anything changed, I learned something new, or we needed him in any way.
Fortunately, at about that point, the other little patient was admitted to the hospital and moved, so we had the room to ourselves and could even turn out the light. I spent the next four hours lying on a gurney, repositioning a sleeping baby so that he’d get the steam in his face but it wouldn’t wake him up. Not an easy task, and I didn’t sleep a wink.
About 6:30 a.m., Dylan woke up and started to be his active self. A new shift of nurses was on, and a very nice one came and examined him and even ordered us some breakfast. Finally, the doctor returned and told me that typically, when two of the treatments are required, hospitalization is indicated, so they were recommending admission to the hospital. (Another shock, especially with a pretty happy baby I was having trouble keeping from squiggling out of my arms.) About 8:30 a.m., I was finally told they were making arrangements to transfer us – by ambulance – to the closest Kaiser hospital, since that’s where we are insured. I called M. – who was actually able to get about three hours of sleep – to fill him in, and he was already packing up to come back to the hospital. He arrived just as the guys for the ambulance service were preparing us for transport.
To be continued…
Sunday, January 30, 2011
OAR#23: Taking the bliss outa ignorance
(I'm sliding in a post before January concludes officially.)
In a little twist, the most recent Open Adoption Roundtable sent interested responders to another blog and asked for answers to Jessica at O Solo Mama's "ignorant questions" about open adoption.
I'll take a stab at answering as best I can...
1. If open adoption is so great, why do so many people suck at it? By this I mean, not honouring commitments, closing the adoption, telling the other family they’re not “doing this thing” correctly or playing the “for the sake of the child” card?
Open adoption relies on human relationships, human relationships with loss, longing, and love at their heart. Like any relationship, it is only as healthy as all of the humans within it. Therefore, it is almost always complex, messy, and emotionally challenging. All too often, it "sucks."
Of course, for perspective, it's important to recognize that open adoption is not the only relationship in which people sometimes have trouble honoring commitments or behaving as anticipated. And of course, it is in relationships with a great deal at stake - such as marriages, or bonds between parents and children - that our human weaknesses cause the most pain and do the most damage.
2. From the standpoint of first parents, open adoption sounds like something that could prolong suffering. Could this suffering potentially outweigh the good of knowing where your child is? Who helps the first parent?
Obviously, I can't answer this one, but I am interested in the responses being submitted by first/birth parents.
3. I’m guessing kids are not hung up on how many relatives they have. Tell me that the thing that hangs up the public all the time about open adoption and other unconventional relationships—two mommies, two daddies, three, four, parents—is the least of your worries because it seems to me it is.
Yep.
Well, it's too early to tell how Dylan will feel about having two mothers, but I'm guessing he'll pick up on the cues that M. and I give him. We're pretty comfortable with the lingo of open adoption, so we suspect he will be too.
4. Do you ever feel like you should give this child back? Does the thought ever seize you totally as you watch your child with her bio-family: “ooops?” (OR for f-parents: Do you ever feel as though you need to take this child back? That nothing is stopping you beside an agreement that feels false? Does that feeling go away?)
Nope.
Well, unfortunately, we haven't seen Dylan interact much with is birth mother. But I have never felt that Dylan isn't exactly where he "should" be.
I can say that I have wondered what his life would be like if he was with her instead of us, and what could have or should have been different in her life to make it possible for her to parent him.
5. How do children ever cope with knowing they could not be kept? When they see their natural parents having more kids, what do they think? Who helps the child in this situation? Both sets of parents?
I don't know yet, but I hope it is both sets of parents. I know that how Dylan will feel when she has and parents additional children is something that concerns V.
I will say I hope we never use - or think of, really - the term "could not be kept" with Dylan. Yes, at some point, he will be mature enough to understand that his birth mom made the decision that she could not parent him as well as she felt he deserved. But I hope the focus, and the feeling, for him is on the love and courage that decision took, rather than on a sense of being discarded.
6. Can you say comfortably that some surrendering mothers could not cope with an open adoption or do you think that it should always be the standard?
I think that's actually two questions. Yes, I believe some surrendering mom's can't cope with an open adoption, but that's not because it's an open adoption. Like I said, it's complex, messy, and emotionally challenging, and not everyone has the support or emotional fortitude to move beyond it. But that is true of any of the options for handling an unanticipated pregnancy, right?
The second part of the questions is a bit tougher for me to answer. I guess I'll say "yes," it should be the standard that all members in an adoption - birth parents, adoptive parents, and children - have the option to maintain relationships with each other. But I know that there are lots of circumstances - particularly in international adoption - when that isn't possible. I say that I think openness should always be an option for a placing parent.
7. Is there ever a reason (aside from extreme/illegal behaviours) to close an adoption totally?
No.
But of course, determining which behaviors are "extreme" can be a subjective thing...and that is why, I believe, many people "suck" at open adoption.
Now, go read what other people had to say!
In a little twist, the most recent Open Adoption Roundtable sent interested responders to another blog and asked for answers to Jessica at O Solo Mama's "ignorant questions" about open adoption.
I'll take a stab at answering as best I can...
1. If open adoption is so great, why do so many people suck at it? By this I mean, not honouring commitments, closing the adoption, telling the other family they’re not “doing this thing” correctly or playing the “for the sake of the child” card?
Open adoption relies on human relationships, human relationships with loss, longing, and love at their heart. Like any relationship, it is only as healthy as all of the humans within it. Therefore, it is almost always complex, messy, and emotionally challenging. All too often, it "sucks."
Of course, for perspective, it's important to recognize that open adoption is not the only relationship in which people sometimes have trouble honoring commitments or behaving as anticipated. And of course, it is in relationships with a great deal at stake - such as marriages, or bonds between parents and children - that our human weaknesses cause the most pain and do the most damage.
2. From the standpoint of first parents, open adoption sounds like something that could prolong suffering. Could this suffering potentially outweigh the good of knowing where your child is? Who helps the first parent?
Obviously, I can't answer this one, but I am interested in the responses being submitted by first/birth parents.
3. I’m guessing kids are not hung up on how many relatives they have. Tell me that the thing that hangs up the public all the time about open adoption and other unconventional relationships—two mommies, two daddies, three, four, parents—is the least of your worries because it seems to me it is.
Yep.
Well, it's too early to tell how Dylan will feel about having two mothers, but I'm guessing he'll pick up on the cues that M. and I give him. We're pretty comfortable with the lingo of open adoption, so we suspect he will be too.
4. Do you ever feel like you should give this child back? Does the thought ever seize you totally as you watch your child with her bio-family: “ooops?” (OR for f-parents: Do you ever feel as though you need to take this child back? That nothing is stopping you beside an agreement that feels false? Does that feeling go away?)
Nope.
Well, unfortunately, we haven't seen Dylan interact much with is birth mother. But I have never felt that Dylan isn't exactly where he "should" be.
I can say that I have wondered what his life would be like if he was with her instead of us, and what could have or should have been different in her life to make it possible for her to parent him.
5. How do children ever cope with knowing they could not be kept? When they see their natural parents having more kids, what do they think? Who helps the child in this situation? Both sets of parents?
I don't know yet, but I hope it is both sets of parents. I know that how Dylan will feel when she has and parents additional children is something that concerns V.
I will say I hope we never use - or think of, really - the term "could not be kept" with Dylan. Yes, at some point, he will be mature enough to understand that his birth mom made the decision that she could not parent him as well as she felt he deserved. But I hope the focus, and the feeling, for him is on the love and courage that decision took, rather than on a sense of being discarded.
6. Can you say comfortably that some surrendering mothers could not cope with an open adoption or do you think that it should always be the standard?
I think that's actually two questions. Yes, I believe some surrendering mom's can't cope with an open adoption, but that's not because it's an open adoption. Like I said, it's complex, messy, and emotionally challenging, and not everyone has the support or emotional fortitude to move beyond it. But that is true of any of the options for handling an unanticipated pregnancy, right?
The second part of the questions is a bit tougher for me to answer. I guess I'll say "yes," it should be the standard that all members in an adoption - birth parents, adoptive parents, and children - have the option to maintain relationships with each other. But I know that there are lots of circumstances - particularly in international adoption - when that isn't possible. I say that I think openness should always be an option for a placing parent.
7. Is there ever a reason (aside from extreme/illegal behaviours) to close an adoption totally?
No.
But of course, determining which behaviors are "extreme" can be a subjective thing...and that is why, I believe, many people "suck" at open adoption.
Now, go read what other people had to say!
Friday, December 24, 2010
Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas
Hang a shining star upon the highest bough...
Wherever you are, whatever you believe, may the new year bring peace, health, and happiness to you and yours.
Wherever you are, whatever you believe, may the new year bring peace, health, and happiness to you and yours.
Monday, December 20, 2010
What's In A Name - Part III
Naming in adoption can get tricky. I've already devoted two posts to it in the past.
What isn't so tricky is all of the loving little nicknames we've given Dylan. It seems like with each new phase, he earns some silly new moniker. Here are the ones that come to mind:
Golden Nose, because he came out of the womb with this unusual gleam. (We subsequently learned that it was caused teeny-tiny pimples that disappeared not long after we brought him home.) We saw it as a sign of his inner radiance ;).
Burrito Baby - Once we mastered the swaddle and our kid slept a lot better, we became huge fans of The Happiest Baby on the Block. (Can't you just tell what he's thinking in the photo below? "I want my Binky!" Well, have no fear: he often earned another, related nickname: Baby Houdini.)
Cobra - Our son always seemed to enjoy his "tummy time." From very early, it seemed to us that he had unusal strength in his upper body, and at just a few months old, he began extending his arms, arching his back, and posing in this yoga pose.
Bozo - Our boy was born with quite a lot of lovely, dark straight hair. That grew. But it grew in a strange pattern, first just in tight curls at the top of his head, and one goofy lock on the side of his head. Since that tuft would get fluffy, he of course drew references to a certian clown.
The Hurdler - Since he's been able to sit on his own, Dylan has surprised us with the poses he finds comfortable. One of his favorites is to jut one leg out straight in front of him and to tuck the other behind himself. Of course, his former track star daddy immediately recognized that his boy is already practicing to make it over the high hurdles.
Butterstein - So, one day we fed Dylan some green beans bathed in butter. That day, he was especially interested in his hair, which by that time had grown out to a fairly uniform length and gentle wave. Naturally, he put his greasy fingers into his coif and the result was a 'do reminescent of Albert Einstein. Since then, he's had many crazy hair days, caused by things like sleep, rolling on the floor, and applying yogurt to his locks, but we always refer to the original gel.
What isn't so tricky is all of the loving little nicknames we've given Dylan. It seems like with each new phase, he earns some silly new moniker. Here are the ones that come to mind:
Golden Nose, because he came out of the womb with this unusual gleam. (We subsequently learned that it was caused teeny-tiny pimples that disappeared not long after we brought him home.) We saw it as a sign of his inner radiance ;).
Bright Eyed Boy - As soon as Dylan could open his eyes, they became his most prominent feature. There is just something so magical about his deep, dark eyes and the way they sparkle.
Burrito Baby - Once we mastered the swaddle and our kid slept a lot better, we became huge fans of The Happiest Baby on the Block. (Can't you just tell what he's thinking in the photo below? "I want my Binky!" Well, have no fear: he often earned another, related nickname: Baby Houdini.)
Cobra - Our son always seemed to enjoy his "tummy time." From very early, it seemed to us that he had unusal strength in his upper body, and at just a few months old, he began extending his arms, arching his back, and posing in this yoga pose.
Inchie - From Cobra, Dylan moved fairly quickly on to inchworming. It was his fist self-directed, forward motion and it was adorable.
Bozo - Our boy was born with quite a lot of lovely, dark straight hair. That grew. But it grew in a strange pattern, first just in tight curls at the top of his head, and one goofy lock on the side of his head. Since that tuft would get fluffy, he of course drew references to a certian clown.
The Hurdler - Since he's been able to sit on his own, Dylan has surprised us with the poses he finds comfortable. One of his favorites is to jut one leg out straight in front of him and to tuck the other behind himself. Of course, his former track star daddy immediately recognized that his boy is already practicing to make it over the high hurdles.
Butterstein - So, one day we fed Dylan some green beans bathed in butter. That day, he was especially interested in his hair, which by that time had grown out to a fairly uniform length and gentle wave. Naturally, he put his greasy fingers into his coif and the result was a 'do reminescent of Albert Einstein. Since then, he's had many crazy hair days, caused by things like sleep, rolling on the floor, and applying yogurt to his locks, but we always refer to the original gel.
(Photo taken by Auntie Lisa)
Of late, now that he's toddling and super curious, I've taken to calling him Destructo. No explanation necessary. Of course, we're attempting interference rather than snapping photos whenever he's earning that name...
Last by not least, no matter what stage he's in, or how old he gets, I know that Dylan will always and forever be my precious, special boy.
Tuesday, December 14, 2010
Look Who's Walking Now!
Dylan First Steps
Since I can't get my act together to create a traditional "baby book," I've intended to use this space to chronicle Dylan's development. Alas, you all see how well - or poorly - I've done with that. It turns out that blogging regularly is one of the things, along with exercise and a social life, that have been squeezed out of my life by the full-time work/parenting combo.
But I've caught a few moments now and want to share what I can.
Obviously, the big news is that just a few days before his 14th month, Dylan began walking, and this morning for the first time, I noticed that he seems to prefer getting around on two legs rather than on four limbs. (We'll see if that's still true this evening when he's tired.)
Truthfully, I'm surprised that it's taken our little guy so long to stand up and get going. I haven't been worried about him; I know that all kids develop differently, and that though some parents can boast that their kids were toddling around at nine months, there was not yet any cause for concern with our boy. What I didn't expect was that he'd be inchworming (at eight months), then bear walking (at nine months), then speed crawling (at ten months), then cruising (at eleven months), then jamming around the house with his walking toys (since around his first birthday), and then "walkin' with the one-finger assist" (since shortly after that) for so long. I kept thinking he was so close to taking his first independent steps, but then another week would go by.
For a couple of weeks now, his cruising has advanced to include a few shuffling steps between couch and ottoman, for instance. And more and more, he'd stand up on his own, pick things up, throwing balls, etc. without any locomotion. But finally, the other night, we had bonafide first steps...and (in an incredible stroke of good luck, since it's rare) I had my iPh*ne with me.
I was in the living room, M. and Dylan were in our bedroom. M. shouted, "Hon, come look at this!" But I didn't have to go anywhere, because into the living room toddled my little boy.
In one hand, he was holding a wooden flute M. had picked up in Ecuador that we'd just given to him to distract him from other items he was going after in the bedroom. In the other, he was holding his precious Puppy. I think he wanted to show me the flute, but he wasn't willing to put his lovey down. Dylan could crawl very easily with an item in one hand, but carrying TWO things made getting up and walking a necessity. So up he went and off he went.
The vid is just moments after I applauded his accomplishment and encouraged him to show his daddy the flute. Who knows how far he would've gone if we all hadn't gotten so excited about it!
Since then, he's had several "repeat performances," going a bit further and not requiring two hands full, but he definitely still showed a preference for the speed and accuracy of crawling. But after this morning, I suspect we've truly entered a new phase: life with a toddler.
When I've mentioned this to others, they all get a sympathetic look in their eyes and say something akin to "oh, I hope you've baby proofed" or "he'll really keep you on your toes now." Uh-ooh.
Yes, the last couple of months, as Dylan's mobility and determination have increased, have been a lot more challenging. Long gone are the days when we could strap him into his bouncy seat and clean the garage while he contentedly fiddled with a toy. He now requires constant, vigilant supervision. And it's exhausting. Will it get even harder?
But he's also so much fun now.
He understand so much of what we say, sometimes it startles me. How did Dylan know what I meant when I suggested he smell a blooming rose? I'd never done it before. Then I remembered that Paul smells the flowers in his "Pat the Bunny" book. It's so cool that now I can say, "go get your brush" and he'll DO it!
Dylan's comprehension is impressive to me, but he still hasn't articulated much. He babbles all the time, and its fun to hear him mimic the tone or cadence of our voices. He's insisted that a dog says "arff! arff!" for months now, and recently he's learned that a dinosaur says "rrrrhhhrr!!" Still, it's rare we'll hear him say something intelligible. Everyone agrees, however, that he has uttered his first, easily-understood and consistently applied word: "BALL!" Usually followed by "ball! ball! ball!!!"
Now he is really playing - stacking blocks, moving cars around, throwing (and catching!) balls of various sizes, opening and closing doors to play peak-a-boo, "diapering" his stuffed gorilla. He is still a bibliophile, pulling book after book from his shelf. Often, he'll spread one out on the floor in front of himself and flip through the pages, pointing at things and making sure we notice them. Not infrequently, he'll find something on a page and we'll hear "arff! arff!" or "ball!" and sure enough, he's "reading."
For quite awhile, he was a terror on the changing table, wiggling and squirming so much I feared he'd fall off. Now I can ask him to help, and he (usually) lifts appropriate body parts at the right times, even offering a foot to go into a pant leg and such.
Dylan has always loved bathtime, and as he gets older, his fun in the tub just seems to increase. He's got a few favorite toys that he scoots around and splashes with, but he gets by far the most enjoyment when we let the cup pour into the water or onto him from higher and higher.
Our boy is now not just a walker, he's a climber. Though (thankfully!) I haven't seen it myself, I received a report from the park that he climbs all the way up the big slide ladder, fusses and pouts for awhile at the top, and then finally decides the easiest way down is plopping on his bottom, letting go, and woshing down the slide. Oh, my!
I've always thought Dylan was a pretty good eater, and maybe he still is, comparatively. But the list of finger foods that make it into his mouth rather than getting thrown off his tray and onto the floor is shrinking and concerningly scares of vegetables. His favorites right now: yogurt, grapes, apple, tofu, and J*oe's O's. He will no longer eat cheese (unless its melted on pizza) or peas. Increasingly, he's interested in what's on our plates and will fuss until we offer him some, only then to send it flying over board. For awhile, I took some pride in the balanced, healthy "meals" my son ate because they focused on whole-grains and veggies. Now I happy if he'll just eat the same stuff his folks do.
As with his eating, Dylan's sleeping pattern seems to go through phases. Napping is kind of a crap shoot these days. Fortunately, he continues to be a very good sleeper at night, usually going down around 8:30 p.m. and rarely peeping until around 6:30 a.m. or even later. In the last week or so, he's been doing something I find so adorable: he loves this little plastic music maker some of my friends from work gave him. You press a button, lights flash, and it plays one of a half-dozen or so simple, classical tunes such as Mozart's Eine Kleine Nachtmusik. Well, one day M. put it in Dylan's crib with him for a nap, and he played with it quietly until he fell asleep. Now, rather than being awoken ourselves with some whining and the beginnings of tears to let us know he's up, some lovely little electronic tunes will come floating down the hallway from the boy's room. If we're lucky - like we were this weekend - we can extend our snoozing for twenty or so minutes while he continues to make his music.
At other times in the day, when he plays his music box or he hears music from some other source, he'll do a little dance. When he's seated, its waving his arms and moving his feet around. When he's standing, he puts his whole little body into it. My favorite is when he dances while I'm holding him and we can boop joyfully around together. The kid has more rhythm than I do!
For awhile, I was a bit disappointed because part of Dylan's growing independence seemed to include a lack of interest in snuggling. Almost as soon as he'd finished his bottle (which is down to just three times a day and should be even less), he'd want to be up and playing or pointing sleepily to his bed. Sure, I'd give him lots of kisses and hugs anyway, but often he'd just push me away...which is a hard thing for a momma to take! Somthing has change this week, however, and I hope it's more than just a phase. He offers lots of hugs, has snuggled with us in bed in the mornings, and is full of kisses.
There is just something about slobbery little smacks that makes my world a better place.
Wednesday, November 24, 2010
Happy Holidays
There have been so many fragments of posts floating around in my head for the past several weeks but no time to sit down and form them into coherent writing. However, I know time will get only more scarce in the next weeks, and so I want to get a few things out now, inarticulate as I may be.
Thanksgiving
Last year at this time, I was a brand new mother, filled with some awe about how much my life had changed in the six or so weeks since Dylan arrived.
Now, I'm the mom of an almost-toddler, and I still can't believe how much has changed in such a short period. Of course, I continue to be grateful to be parenting such a great, great kid. Dylan is amusing, challenging, and inspiring. I think I tell him - and the universe - everyday how fortunate I feel to be his mommy.
This Thanksgiving, I want to express my gratitude for all of the people who have helped us through this major transition in life. From close family to new acquaintances (virtual and "real"), so many people have generously offered their support. And we have relied on it. From providing hours upon hours of loving care to our son, to thoughtful gifts and hand-me-downs, to just sending good wishes across the Internet, the assistance has been so, so valuable. It has cheered us through the inevitable ups and downs of new parenting and made our lives easier, richer, and often more fun.
This year, our family will be observing the holiday in a way that is atypical for us: we'll be going to a nice buffet at a hotel restaurant. I am sure there will be a point - probably when the server removes my last plate - when I will miss having the tasty leftovers that usually accompany Thanksgiving. But mostly I am so glad that we mutually agreed to avoid the burden of cooking and cleaning that is so often inevitable on such occasions in favor of emphasizing what is really important to us: enjoying each others' company.
While I am celebrating with several of the people who have been the most supportive to us, I will also be thinking of those people who we aren't able to be with this year. I want them to understand how grateful I am for their love, and for their eagerness to truly be a part of the "village" that is raising this child. I want them all to know what a difference - in big and small ways - they are making in Dylan's life, in my life. Thank you.
Halloween
Doesn't this blog seem to be missing something? Yep, photos of a kid in a cute costume. Well, I'll have to rectify that!
I've always gotten a big kick out of Halloween. It's an excuse to get creative, dress up, and be silly! In fact, I have many fond memories of the holiday from my childhood. Truthfully, I barely remember trick-or-treating, though I do recall vividly coming home with a bag full of loot, spreading it out on the living room carpet, and then entering high-stakes candy trading negotiations with my brothers. What I remember most was talking and planning with my parents about what I'd "be" and how we'd make the costume. How old was I when my dad spray painted a box silver, my mom crafted tinfoil antennae, and I added red reflective tape buttons and a heart to become a robot? How delicately did my mother explain to me why, in junior high, I might want to tone down my "dance hall girl" outfit? How was it that, even when she became a single mom, working full-time and going to school, she managed to find time to sew capes and carve pumpkins?
Anyway, as Halloween approached this year, I had to temper my expectations. First of all, last year, new to our neighborhood, we were very disappointed to only have a few kids come to our door. (And most of them were so old that they barely qualified as kids.) Secondly, Dylan is too young to go trick-or-treating. In fact, I worried he wouldn't be able to tolerate a costume at all.
So, I ended up being very pleasantly surprised by how enjoyable the day was. We started it by putting Dylan in his booster seat so he could watch and "participate" while M. carved a pumpkin that eventually found its way onto our front porch.
Thanksgiving
Last year at this time, I was a brand new mother, filled with some awe about how much my life had changed in the six or so weeks since Dylan arrived.
Now, I'm the mom of an almost-toddler, and I still can't believe how much has changed in such a short period. Of course, I continue to be grateful to be parenting such a great, great kid. Dylan is amusing, challenging, and inspiring. I think I tell him - and the universe - everyday how fortunate I feel to be his mommy.
This Thanksgiving, I want to express my gratitude for all of the people who have helped us through this major transition in life. From close family to new acquaintances (virtual and "real"), so many people have generously offered their support. And we have relied on it. From providing hours upon hours of loving care to our son, to thoughtful gifts and hand-me-downs, to just sending good wishes across the Internet, the assistance has been so, so valuable. It has cheered us through the inevitable ups and downs of new parenting and made our lives easier, richer, and often more fun.
This year, our family will be observing the holiday in a way that is atypical for us: we'll be going to a nice buffet at a hotel restaurant. I am sure there will be a point - probably when the server removes my last plate - when I will miss having the tasty leftovers that usually accompany Thanksgiving. But mostly I am so glad that we mutually agreed to avoid the burden of cooking and cleaning that is so often inevitable on such occasions in favor of emphasizing what is really important to us: enjoying each others' company.
While I am celebrating with several of the people who have been the most supportive to us, I will also be thinking of those people who we aren't able to be with this year. I want them to understand how grateful I am for their love, and for their eagerness to truly be a part of the "village" that is raising this child. I want them all to know what a difference - in big and small ways - they are making in Dylan's life, in my life. Thank you.
Halloween
Doesn't this blog seem to be missing something? Yep, photos of a kid in a cute costume. Well, I'll have to rectify that!
I've always gotten a big kick out of Halloween. It's an excuse to get creative, dress up, and be silly! In fact, I have many fond memories of the holiday from my childhood. Truthfully, I barely remember trick-or-treating, though I do recall vividly coming home with a bag full of loot, spreading it out on the living room carpet, and then entering high-stakes candy trading negotiations with my brothers. What I remember most was talking and planning with my parents about what I'd "be" and how we'd make the costume. How old was I when my dad spray painted a box silver, my mom crafted tinfoil antennae, and I added red reflective tape buttons and a heart to become a robot? How delicately did my mother explain to me why, in junior high, I might want to tone down my "dance hall girl" outfit? How was it that, even when she became a single mom, working full-time and going to school, she managed to find time to sew capes and carve pumpkins?
Anyway, as Halloween approached this year, I had to temper my expectations. First of all, last year, new to our neighborhood, we were very disappointed to only have a few kids come to our door. (And most of them were so old that they barely qualified as kids.) Secondly, Dylan is too young to go trick-or-treating. In fact, I worried he wouldn't be able to tolerate a costume at all.
So, I ended up being very pleasantly surprised by how enjoyable the day was. We started it by putting Dylan in his booster seat so he could watch and "participate" while M. carved a pumpkin that eventually found its way onto our front porch.
In the afternoon, we hosted a small "Halloween Happy Hour." My dad and Dylan's aunt from Texas were in town, and his Auntie M. and Uncle B. also were excited to celebrate with us. We've been wanting to get to know our neighbors better, and this seemed like a good excuse. We invited those in the homes closest to ours over for some autumn ale and sweet treats.
Ultimately, we were joined by a couple who live two doors down from us. Though we are about the same age, they have a 20 year old, an 18 year old...and now a five month old. They are very nice, friendly people and we'd like to get to know them better, especially since our son and their daughter could well be play-mates. We were also joined by another neighbor whose daughter and her five week old baby boy are staying with her now. Additionally, some good friends who live close by brought their little girl, born in May, over. So, at one point we had four babies (plus Auntie L.'s sweet dog, who is her baby) hanging out on the porch!
And Dylan didn't just tolerate his costume, he loved it! Make that: he loved both of them. Back in August, Auntie M. called from Costc* and said there were some adorable costumes. Did we want Dylan to be a duck, a frog, a monkey, or a ladybug? M. immediately responded, "A ladybug!" You see, at the time Dylan was fixated by a toy ladybug that hung from his floor gym. So his auntie got him the ladybug costume...It was only later that it occurred to us our son would be a cross-dresser for his first Halloween!
Our guests were greeted by the ladybug and midway through our Happy Hour, the boy had a costume change. He was adorable in both. It was so precious to see him interacting with the other little kids in their costumes!
I am already excited about next Halloween, when we may be able to go trick-or-treating. I wonder what our two year-old will want to be?
Anniversary
Though it is not a national holiday, each fall now we celebrate another important date: our wedding anniversary. This year, thanks to M.'s good planning, we were able to score a cottage at Crystal Cove State Park, which made it a really special get-away.
We were joined for a long weekend by M.'s sister and brother-in-law, who graciously agreed to babysit so we could go out to dinner just as a couple.
M. and I had a lovely time. It had rained and stormed most of the day, but the evening was clear and crisp. We went to a restaurant justly known for its romantic atmosphere and were seated in a secluded corner with flickering candlelight. We ordered cocktails! We lingered over our meals! We exchanged gifts and loving words without interruption!!
As I told M., there is no one else on earth with whom I'd rather share this escapade called life. He is a fabulous partner, and I so look forward to all of the adventures we'll share together.
National Adoption Awareness Month
Though you may not have known it, there was another celebration in November. Started a few years ago to focus attention primarily on adoption from foster care, the observance of National Adoption Awareness Month has expanded to draw attention to adoption in general.
Here are a couple of different takes on it.
If you'd like my suggestion for how to observe it, this year or in the future, I'd love for you to use every opportunity you can to correct any myths or misconceptions you encounter about adoption. Help "normalize" it, for all the members of the adoption triad. Use PAL. Let whomever will listen - friends, acquaintances, legislators, the media - know how it's touched your life. And if it helps, tell them a story about or show them a photo of a little boy who is loved very much.
...
For me, holidays often serve as markers in my life. They provide reference points for current events and my changes in emotional state. Last year at this time, I could only speculate what my life would be like now. In many ways, my predictions were right: being Dylan's mom has added an incredible new dimension to my life. That's not simply because of my evolving role as a mother. It's because of the new relationships I've built, the existing ones that have deepened, and the better sense of self I've gained through it all.
Wherever you are and whatever you are doing this Thanksgiving and in the weeks to come, I hope that this holiday season you too have a full heart and are able spend time doing things you love with those you love.
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