Doings
1. We've just accepted an offer on our house after a mercifully short 3-week listing period. We're now in high house-hunting gear, hence this middle-of-the-night post.
2. The little ones and I just got back from a trip to New Jersey. The little guy takes such long naps that it worked out fine--he's such a total sleepyhead, although only when in the car or being held. I think he has sensed that he's The Last Baby and that if he works it, he can manage to be held all the time. I put him down when I really need to, but there's none of this "trying to put him down so he can learn to be on his own," which I tried to do with the Ally Cat. With this kid I'm more like a grandparent: "Let me hold you!"
3. While in NJ, Allison Clare orchestrated her own surprise welcome party. This was, of course, her own idea. She wrote out invitations to the neighbors across the street, as well as ones to my parents, Gillian, and me and the baby (phonetically spelled: "I hope you can come to my welcome party. Is suppost to b aftr dinr. Grandma will present the cake"), helped frost a cake with my mom (sprinkles by Gillian), decorated the gazebo with my dad and Gilly, and scripted and choreographed a scene in which my dad was to summon all of us guests from the porch onto the patio, then announce, "The guest of honor is about to arrive." Then she would pop out of a cardboard box and we would all yell, "Surprise!"
It took my poor father three tries before he got his line right. The first two times, we guests assembled, then he started with his line and she burst out of the box like a temperamental film director, "No, no, no--Pop, you forgot [whisper whisper whisper]." Back into the box for her, back onto the porch for the guests. When all finally went according to plan, she stood and looked quietly (almost shyly!) pleased.
I can't believe I've given birth to a child who so loves to be the center of attention. Neither Sam nor I am really like that at all. The fact is that she is exactly like her grandmother Brenda: my dear mother-in-law was a great planner of things for other people to execute to her specifications. This ranged from sending family members out to shop for things she had seen in circulars or on TV as gifts for other family members, to--unforgettably--enumerating the exact varieties and colors of flowers that she wanted atop her own funeral casket. This quality was all the more striking because Brenda was, by the time I met her, housebound, and for most people, being restricted to an area bound only by the bed, recliner, and bathroom, would mean isolation. But Brenda always had people stopping in to see her and be loved and cheered by her, instead of vice versa, and all of those people loved doing things for her.
4. The little guy is giving us some real smiles these days. Today he looked directly at me--I was smiling at him--and he gave me a huge one.
5. I was so grateful and happy for the smile because something terrible had almost happened earlier in the day. We were out looking at houses and I was getting him out of the car, and somehow stumbled--my ankle gave out--while removing the carseat. I lost balance so badly that I fell sideways while turning with the seat away from the car (how this happened I'm still not certain--it was a perfect storm involving a gap in the driveway pavement, my shoe, an unstable ankle, and the turning movement). I broke the fall with my knee and wrist, but couldn't hold onto the carseat and it slammed from my hand to the ground, bounced up at least 2-3 feet in the air while rotating, hit the ground face forward (thank God, thank God, thank God the handle was in the forward position to absorb the impact instead of my baby's head), bounced again down the driveway, and Sam, running from the other side of the car, caught it. I was on the pavement in a tangle of limbs shrieking, "Is he okay? Is he okay?" My poor sweet babe slept through it--he kind of whimpered and looked annoyed for a second and settled back into his baby dreams. We checked him out--arms and legs and fingers and toes all wiggling normally--but Sam and I were still shaky hours later.
(Allison Clare's suggestion at dinner: "Mom, I think you should wear rubber shoes." Gillian's: "I think we should buy a house that doesn't make you skin your knee." Then G got up to point out the specific pair of shoes that AC had suggested, which are kind of like low-cut Chuck Taylors and not a bad idea in fact.)
I'm still not recovered from the sight of the carseat bouncing in the air.
6. I can't believe how much I love this little short, fat, bald, flatulent guy. He's even got baby acne right now. I'm breathing in his baby smell for all it's worth: I inhale and then turn away so that my own exhalation won't dilute my next breath of his scent. I let him nap on me (see above re: Last Baby Syndrome) for long periods and haven't even worried much about teaching him to nap on his own--we'll get to that later after he hits the three-month mark, where it just seems like so much changes so drastically. I can't get enough of him in his squidgy state. I would let him sleep in our bed all night every night if I weren't terrified I'd pull a blanket over his head or roll over on him.
7. Gillian walked by his bouncy seat today and said, "He's sleeping like a pirate!" and kept going. I asked AC what that meant, and she said, "Pirates sleep with one eye open!" Sure enough, he had one eye gapped a tiny bit as he slipped in and out of sleep. I've noticed that he is focusing much better--at my parents' house, one night I came into the living room and said hi to my mom holding him, and proceeded to another chair. He heard my voice, looked for me, and cried out. Yesterday he was falling asleep, eyes slitted, and I was trying to see if he was really out. I moved from one side of him to the other and saw his irises slide back and forth in the tiny slit--so funny.
8. All of his newborn things--his smiles as he falls asleep, his eyes rolling back when he's sleepy or when his head is rubbed (he loves that), his snarfly grunty sounds, his wiggling of his arms as he gets agitated, his rolling his shoulders and looking urgently at me when he wants to be picked up, his rooting--they are all so precious to me.
2. The little ones and I just got back from a trip to New Jersey. The little guy takes such long naps that it worked out fine--he's such a total sleepyhead, although only when in the car or being held. I think he has sensed that he's The Last Baby and that if he works it, he can manage to be held all the time. I put him down when I really need to, but there's none of this "trying to put him down so he can learn to be on his own," which I tried to do with the Ally Cat. With this kid I'm more like a grandparent: "Let me hold you!"
3. While in NJ, Allison Clare orchestrated her own surprise welcome party. This was, of course, her own idea. She wrote out invitations to the neighbors across the street, as well as ones to my parents, Gillian, and me and the baby (phonetically spelled: "I hope you can come to my welcome party. Is suppost to b aftr dinr. Grandma will present the cake"), helped frost a cake with my mom (sprinkles by Gillian), decorated the gazebo with my dad and Gilly, and scripted and choreographed a scene in which my dad was to summon all of us guests from the porch onto the patio, then announce, "The guest of honor is about to arrive." Then she would pop out of a cardboard box and we would all yell, "Surprise!"
It took my poor father three tries before he got his line right. The first two times, we guests assembled, then he started with his line and she burst out of the box like a temperamental film director, "No, no, no--Pop, you forgot [whisper whisper whisper]." Back into the box for her, back onto the porch for the guests. When all finally went according to plan, she stood and looked quietly (almost shyly!) pleased.
I can't believe I've given birth to a child who so loves to be the center of attention. Neither Sam nor I am really like that at all. The fact is that she is exactly like her grandmother Brenda: my dear mother-in-law was a great planner of things for other people to execute to her specifications. This ranged from sending family members out to shop for things she had seen in circulars or on TV as gifts for other family members, to--unforgettably--enumerating the exact varieties and colors of flowers that she wanted atop her own funeral casket. This quality was all the more striking because Brenda was, by the time I met her, housebound, and for most people, being restricted to an area bound only by the bed, recliner, and bathroom, would mean isolation. But Brenda always had people stopping in to see her and be loved and cheered by her, instead of vice versa, and all of those people loved doing things for her.
4. The little guy is giving us some real smiles these days. Today he looked directly at me--I was smiling at him--and he gave me a huge one.
5. I was so grateful and happy for the smile because something terrible had almost happened earlier in the day. We were out looking at houses and I was getting him out of the car, and somehow stumbled--my ankle gave out--while removing the carseat. I lost balance so badly that I fell sideways while turning with the seat away from the car (how this happened I'm still not certain--it was a perfect storm involving a gap in the driveway pavement, my shoe, an unstable ankle, and the turning movement). I broke the fall with my knee and wrist, but couldn't hold onto the carseat and it slammed from my hand to the ground, bounced up at least 2-3 feet in the air while rotating, hit the ground face forward (thank God, thank God, thank God the handle was in the forward position to absorb the impact instead of my baby's head), bounced again down the driveway, and Sam, running from the other side of the car, caught it. I was on the pavement in a tangle of limbs shrieking, "Is he okay? Is he okay?" My poor sweet babe slept through it--he kind of whimpered and looked annoyed for a second and settled back into his baby dreams. We checked him out--arms and legs and fingers and toes all wiggling normally--but Sam and I were still shaky hours later.
(Allison Clare's suggestion at dinner: "Mom, I think you should wear rubber shoes." Gillian's: "I think we should buy a house that doesn't make you skin your knee." Then G got up to point out the specific pair of shoes that AC had suggested, which are kind of like low-cut Chuck Taylors and not a bad idea in fact.)
I'm still not recovered from the sight of the carseat bouncing in the air.
6. I can't believe how much I love this little short, fat, bald, flatulent guy. He's even got baby acne right now. I'm breathing in his baby smell for all it's worth: I inhale and then turn away so that my own exhalation won't dilute my next breath of his scent. I let him nap on me (see above re: Last Baby Syndrome) for long periods and haven't even worried much about teaching him to nap on his own--we'll get to that later after he hits the three-month mark, where it just seems like so much changes so drastically. I can't get enough of him in his squidgy state. I would let him sleep in our bed all night every night if I weren't terrified I'd pull a blanket over his head or roll over on him.
7. Gillian walked by his bouncy seat today and said, "He's sleeping like a pirate!" and kept going. I asked AC what that meant, and she said, "Pirates sleep with one eye open!" Sure enough, he had one eye gapped a tiny bit as he slipped in and out of sleep. I've noticed that he is focusing much better--at my parents' house, one night I came into the living room and said hi to my mom holding him, and proceeded to another chair. He heard my voice, looked for me, and cried out. Yesterday he was falling asleep, eyes slitted, and I was trying to see if he was really out. I moved from one side of him to the other and saw his irises slide back and forth in the tiny slit--so funny.
8. All of his newborn things--his smiles as he falls asleep, his eyes rolling back when he's sleepy or when his head is rubbed (he loves that), his snarfly grunty sounds, his wiggling of his arms as he gets agitated, his rolling his shoulders and looking urgently at me when he wants to be picked up, his rooting--they are all so precious to me.
posted by Tara | 5:29 AM
|
2 comments
