The Little One's first birthday, earlier this week, was a trip. She got her own small cake, with which she made a sticky mess while the rest of us partook of the larger cake, got lots of presents, none of which she appreciated but which made her smile nonetheless, and got to spend quality time with family. And the best part: my sweetie and I didn't have to spend the entire day chasing after her. She has grandparents for that.
All in all, a good day.
Happy birthday, my little sweetheart. I love you.
Wednesday, June 30, 2010
Tuesday, June 15, 2010
Crawling
The Little One is crawling.
Everywhere.
Most times, she manages to stay out of trouble. She plays on the floor, chases after toys, and pulls herself up using all manner of furniture. Sometimes, though...
She understands what "no" means. This past weekend, in her grandparents' kitchen, she tried opening a cabinet door when her grandfather said, once, evenly, "no." She flung herself to the floor, wailing.
So it seems obvious to us that, when we tell her "no," she knows she's doing something wrong. We're trying to teach her that there are some things she shouldn't do and some places in the house she isn't allowed. Sometimes, it seems to work. And yet, at least once a day, she still:
- pulls books from bookshelves
- smacks forbidden items like lamps
- tries to play with television remote
- knocks over the clothesline
- reaches and reaches for the computer cables
- pounds on the computer keyboard
- wants whatever I have in my hand
Is there anything I should add to this list? Anything your child can do but won't? Anything that might help reinforce desired behaviors? Or should we just ride this out with gritted teeth until she goes off to college?
Everywhere.
Most times, she manages to stay out of trouble. She plays on the floor, chases after toys, and pulls herself up using all manner of furniture. Sometimes, though...
She understands what "no" means. This past weekend, in her grandparents' kitchen, she tried opening a cabinet door when her grandfather said, once, evenly, "no." She flung herself to the floor, wailing.
So it seems obvious to us that, when we tell her "no," she knows she's doing something wrong. We're trying to teach her that there are some things she shouldn't do and some places in the house she isn't allowed. Sometimes, it seems to work. And yet, at least once a day, she still:
- pulls books from bookshelves
- smacks forbidden items like lamps
- tries to play with television remote
- knocks over the clothesline
- reaches and reaches for the computer cables
- pounds on the computer keyboard
- wants whatever I have in my hand
Is there anything I should add to this list? Anything your child can do but won't? Anything that might help reinforce desired behaviors? Or should we just ride this out with gritted teeth until she goes off to college?
Friday, April 30, 2010
Weights and Measures
Once a month, my wife measures and weighs our little one to see how she's growing. As of today, the baby is 28 inches long and weighs in at 15.6 pounds. Not too bad for a 10-month-old. Fiftieth percentile, in fact, if the growth charts can be trusted.
Not that I care too much one way or the other. As long as she's not an outlier by more than three standard deviations, and as long as her general health is good, I'm not worried about where she falls on a chart. Unlike some people.
I'm writing this because I've already heard tales of parents eager to compare every dimension of their suckling infant against those of other kids, as if these parents find some sort of validation in where Junior places on a developmental scale. This, I suspect, is where it all begins.
Sad.
I promised myself long ago that any children I had would be allowed to grow and learn at their own pace, that I wouldn't permit outside pressure from other parents to suck them - or me - into some ridiculous competition. I can see how parental insecurity drives comparisons but deep down, I don't get it. You kid's a quarter-inch taller than mine. He got a 98 on a math test in which my child scored a 97. To which I should respond... congratulations?
We are not our kids. If we do our jobs right, they'll fail or succeed on their own terms. Either way, it's little reflection on us. That's not to say I won't share in my child's pride at earning an award or honor sometime in the future. But neither I nor my self-worth will be defined by my child.
The flip side of this phenomenon seems to be resentment. A cousin of mine, when he was about 10, won every end-of-year academic award at his school for his grade, prompting grumbling among other parents that my aunt and uncle had exercised some sort of undue influence on the school staff. My uncle shrugged and said, "he got what he got." And besides, he was ten. Awards won at ten, for better or worse, are meaningless soon thereafter.
When my wife was pregnant, I sometimes wondered how I'd interact with other parents. Deep down, next to the place I store my confusion about how adults confuse themselves with their own children, lies a rather wicked sense of humor. Should I encounter the sort of parents I'm writing about here, I'm kind of afraid that this humor will surface, spreading rumors of non-existent PTA meetings, sharing bogus tips from real friends in the college admissions world, and speaking in whispered awe about some whiz-kid star athlete who just moved to the area and who'll surely be district's sole Harvard acceptance come fall.
Parenthood is a shared bond, and a wonderful one, but no relationships are perfect. I'm actually looking forward to meeting my child's friends' parents. Maybe my fears will be unfounded. Maybe I'll share this blog post and we can all have a good laugh. Or maybe, just maybe, I'll meet That Mom, That Dad, that one parent who lives and dies by every detail in his kid's existence.
And maybe, just maybe, I'll convince him that colleges have started looking at elementary school transcripts to better gauge an applicant's "evolution of maturity" so his little seven-year-old Susie had better get her butt in gear.
Not that I care too much one way or the other. As long as she's not an outlier by more than three standard deviations, and as long as her general health is good, I'm not worried about where she falls on a chart. Unlike some people.
I'm writing this because I've already heard tales of parents eager to compare every dimension of their suckling infant against those of other kids, as if these parents find some sort of validation in where Junior places on a developmental scale. This, I suspect, is where it all begins.
Sad.
I promised myself long ago that any children I had would be allowed to grow and learn at their own pace, that I wouldn't permit outside pressure from other parents to suck them - or me - into some ridiculous competition. I can see how parental insecurity drives comparisons but deep down, I don't get it. You kid's a quarter-inch taller than mine. He got a 98 on a math test in which my child scored a 97. To which I should respond... congratulations?
We are not our kids. If we do our jobs right, they'll fail or succeed on their own terms. Either way, it's little reflection on us. That's not to say I won't share in my child's pride at earning an award or honor sometime in the future. But neither I nor my self-worth will be defined by my child.
The flip side of this phenomenon seems to be resentment. A cousin of mine, when he was about 10, won every end-of-year academic award at his school for his grade, prompting grumbling among other parents that my aunt and uncle had exercised some sort of undue influence on the school staff. My uncle shrugged and said, "he got what he got." And besides, he was ten. Awards won at ten, for better or worse, are meaningless soon thereafter.
When my wife was pregnant, I sometimes wondered how I'd interact with other parents. Deep down, next to the place I store my confusion about how adults confuse themselves with their own children, lies a rather wicked sense of humor. Should I encounter the sort of parents I'm writing about here, I'm kind of afraid that this humor will surface, spreading rumors of non-existent PTA meetings, sharing bogus tips from real friends in the college admissions world, and speaking in whispered awe about some whiz-kid star athlete who just moved to the area and who'll surely be district's sole Harvard acceptance come fall.
Parenthood is a shared bond, and a wonderful one, but no relationships are perfect. I'm actually looking forward to meeting my child's friends' parents. Maybe my fears will be unfounded. Maybe I'll share this blog post and we can all have a good laugh. Or maybe, just maybe, I'll meet That Mom, That Dad, that one parent who lives and dies by every detail in his kid's existence.
And maybe, just maybe, I'll convince him that colleges have started looking at elementary school transcripts to better gauge an applicant's "evolution of maturity" so his little seven-year-old Susie had better get her butt in gear.
Monday, March 1, 2010
Travel, Solid Food, but, Most of All, an Update.
The squeals haven't stopped. Actually, they've gotten louder and higher-pitched. Our baby would make a terrific fire alarm.
I'm sorry for being away for so long. Life intervened and blogging fell to the wayside.
A lot's happened in the interim. We took a long overseas flight with the baby to visit family in my mother's home country. Worth every moment, even if the little one was wide awake for most of the flight. She cried more than she would on the ground but not nearly as much as we'd feared. Packing for her was a pain - car seat, diaper bag, clothes, toys - but we managed fairly well. All her stuff, all our stuff, and all carried on. Not bad, if I may say so.
The little one is also transitioning to solid food. My wife has been making it at home, which saves us a lot of money and, she says, it isn't nearly as hard it seems. All you need is a steamer or microwave, a blender, and something to store it in. Take whatever you want to serve the baby - broccoli, cabbage, peppers, cucumbers, apricots, pears, anything at all - steam the daylights out of it, toss it in the blender, and pour into the tray.
Oh, right, the tray.
We have ice cube trays specially designed to hold one-ounce servings of frozen breast milk. We made regular use of them when my wife was pumping and now use them to store frozen baby food. Once the blocks are frozen, we dump them into a large Ziploc bag and freeze another batch.
Some foods, of course, are wetter than others and can be easily thickened with a little bit of infant-formulated dry rice or grain cereal. With foods that are thicker, like the chicken breasts my wife boiled before pureeing them, adding a matching flavor like applesauce makes all the difference. Using formula or breastmilk also works very well.
Our little one did have some early issues with constipation, which worried us for a while until my wife - sensing a theme yet? - hit on a terrific idea. We got some prune juice, poured a quick splash of an ounce or so into a sippy cup, and cut it with water. Our baby loves it, probably because it's the sweetest thing we let her drink. A brilliant move on my sweetie's part.
Finally, the baby is also starting to crawl. She's not moving from place to place yet but, any day now, she'll be motoring along. As of right now, she rolls from place to place with the ease of a bicycle tire and can get up on all fours. Instead of going forward, though, she pushes herself backwards and starts crying in frustration.
Is it wrong that we find that funny?
She taller now, and heavier, too, of course, and so far she's been sick only once. A mild cold clogged her up for a couple of days back in January but a visit to her doctor assured us that it wasn't H1N1, cystic fibrosis, or some other dread disease. It's amazing how quickly we assume the worst when our kids are sick.
So, again, I'm sorry for the long wait between posts. My goal is to post at least one update a week. And don't hesitate to hold me to it.
I'm sorry for being away for so long. Life intervened and blogging fell to the wayside.
A lot's happened in the interim. We took a long overseas flight with the baby to visit family in my mother's home country. Worth every moment, even if the little one was wide awake for most of the flight. She cried more than she would on the ground but not nearly as much as we'd feared. Packing for her was a pain - car seat, diaper bag, clothes, toys - but we managed fairly well. All her stuff, all our stuff, and all carried on. Not bad, if I may say so.
The little one is also transitioning to solid food. My wife has been making it at home, which saves us a lot of money and, she says, it isn't nearly as hard it seems. All you need is a steamer or microwave, a blender, and something to store it in. Take whatever you want to serve the baby - broccoli, cabbage, peppers, cucumbers, apricots, pears, anything at all - steam the daylights out of it, toss it in the blender, and pour into the tray.
Oh, right, the tray.
We have ice cube trays specially designed to hold one-ounce servings of frozen breast milk. We made regular use of them when my wife was pumping and now use them to store frozen baby food. Once the blocks are frozen, we dump them into a large Ziploc bag and freeze another batch.
Some foods, of course, are wetter than others and can be easily thickened with a little bit of infant-formulated dry rice or grain cereal. With foods that are thicker, like the chicken breasts my wife boiled before pureeing them, adding a matching flavor like applesauce makes all the difference. Using formula or breastmilk also works very well.
Our little one did have some early issues with constipation, which worried us for a while until my wife - sensing a theme yet? - hit on a terrific idea. We got some prune juice, poured a quick splash of an ounce or so into a sippy cup, and cut it with water. Our baby loves it, probably because it's the sweetest thing we let her drink. A brilliant move on my sweetie's part.
Finally, the baby is also starting to crawl. She's not moving from place to place yet but, any day now, she'll be motoring along. As of right now, she rolls from place to place with the ease of a bicycle tire and can get up on all fours. Instead of going forward, though, she pushes herself backwards and starts crying in frustration.
Is it wrong that we find that funny?
She taller now, and heavier, too, of course, and so far she's been sick only once. A mild cold clogged her up for a couple of days back in January but a visit to her doctor assured us that it wasn't H1N1, cystic fibrosis, or some other dread disease. It's amazing how quickly we assume the worst when our kids are sick.
So, again, I'm sorry for the long wait between posts. My goal is to post at least one update a week. And don't hesitate to hold me to it.
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