13 Months

Jett!

You are thirteen months old! We missed your birthday. I guess once you hit a year, these month anniversaries lose some significance. (As if! You know we celebrate you every day. Every day!)

You're walking now, walking everywhere. We came home from work last Tuesday, and Grandpa H told us you walked from your bedroom to the computer armoire, and we didn't really believe it. It wasn't until Thursday (your 13 month birthday) that I saw just how far you could walk. Now you toddle along from one end of the condo to the other. Aunt Jenny said when you walk you remind her of E.T., and I have to admit, I see what she means.

It's so exciting! Tonight you walked across the room, bent down, picked something up, and stood back up on your own.

When you first started walking such long distances, you did so with your arms straight up in the air, yelling happily the entire distance, as if you could hardly believe it yourself and you couldn't keep from exclaiming, "Look at me! Look at me! Look at what I'm doing!" Of course we were exclaiming along with you. It was a happy yell-fest in here last week.

You've eaten a lot more food this month. Black beans, guacamole, shredded chicken, mandarin oranges, rice crispies, alphabet pasta, scrambled eggs, spanish rice, grilled cheese sandwiches, and fruit smoothies. You're also drinking a lot of whole milk - as long as we offer it to you in a bottle. Apparently you believe sippy cups are for water and bottles are for milk, and eventually you'll have to start drinking milk out of sippy cup too. Don't worry though. You can walk from one end of our condo to another! You can bend down, pick something up, and stand back up! Who cares about a little old bottle?

This month your favorite activity by far is pushing the stroller. Grandpa H took you to the park every day last week. I think you spent almost three hours there one day, and most of the time you just push-push-pushed that stroller around and around and around the park. Not only do you want to push it, you want to steer it, and you are strict about enforcing that rule. That's why the park is perfect for you right now - you can push the stroller all over the place in there without getting in to any danger. It was just yesterday that I sat at park and laid you on a blanket next to me. Now it's pointless to bring a blanket, because you never stop moving.

You just keep on going, Jett. It's a ton of fun keeping up with you. Happy birthday. We love you.

Grandpa H

Last week Jett turned in to the loudest kid I've ever met. I'm not saying it has anything to do with the fact that Grandpa H took care of him for four days last week. Oh no, I'm sure he had nothing to do with it. Jett spent the week doing quiet activities, like reading books and counting cheerios. There was no running in the condo. No yelling with delight. And no chasing. Definately no chasing.

Or so I'm told.

Working Mom

Being a working mom is laying your clothes out the night before, waking up before your alarm, and always hanging your keys on the same hook. It's about having a system in place so you can make it through the mundane tasks as efficiently as possible, saving all of your extra, spontaneous, greedy time for your baby.

It's about walking to the bus stop while your previously-organized mind, the one that layed your clothes out the night before, starts disassembling itself, like you're messing up the rubic's cube that you just spent hours solving. The square that plans your baby's meals is over there next to the square that remembers your computer password, and the part of your brain that remembers to put the dish detergent on the high shelf out of baby's reach is all mixed up with the part that gets you to your meeting on time and schedules appointments. By the time you get to work you've thought of so many things and turned them around so many times that you just want someone else to put the yellows with the yellows and the greens with the greens, the reds with the reds. Smooth and shiny. Organized. Neat.

You're at work now and you wonder how long they are going to let you work here, you with your rubic's cube brain. You who remember to set out your baby's meals every night, but forget your lunch every single day. Although you don't mind running out to buy lunch, because it's your only time to leave your computer. Even at lunch you sit at your computer, running through the other things you have to complete during business hours - scheduling doctor appointments for your baby, ordering shoes for your baby online because you don't want to use your free time at home dragging your baby to the store, figuring out childcare, answering email. You don't love spending lunch this way, but you don't hate it, and you know you're lucky that you have a good job and get to sit at a computer so you can do these things on your lunch hour.

You might feel lucky for the adult interaction during the day, except you are busy, so busy. Too busy to eat lunch out or to hang out because now more than ever you don't want to work late or take work home with you, because your baby is at home, and at home you try to focus on only one thing. You're better at that at home, and you wonder if Work gets jealous. You're playing favorites, and you wonder if Work feels left out.

You're a working mom and you feel like a martyr, even though you realize that is unbecoming in a person. You don't even qualify as a martyr, you with the luxury of choices, your supportive family, your college education, a job you like. So what is it that you want?

You want what every other hard-working person wants. You want the world to take notice and look at you with kindness and generosity. You want this world to turn to the next world and tell it to look at this working mom. She is working so hard. She doesn't get enough sleep. She's worried about her work. Her baby cries after her every morning when she leaves. She's trying her best and it is so hard.

Then you would like the world to buy you a beer, give you a high five and tell you you're doing a good job. You're working hard. We notice. Thank you.

Fourth of July

I hope you all had a happy fourth of July.

In the afternoon we drove down to the lake front path, paid $8 to park, and spent about three hours walking at a snail's pace while Jett pushed the stroller. Then some huge military airplane flew out from behind the trees and scared me half to death.

Actually, our afternoon was more fun than that sounds. Jett had his first taste of ice cream and was in heaven pushing the stroller, we walked along the water, and later that evening, we ate dinner outside. It was a good day.

Kalamazoo

We spent last weekend in Kalamazoo.

It's kind of a small town. But there are a couple of good restaurants, a park with clean bathrooms, and a beach with soft sand and a few fish. There is a hotel that will lend you their pack-n-play if you forget yours and on your drive home, there is a rest area with miles of green grass which is perfect for picnics, and blowing bubbles, and wrestling. In other words, Kalamazoo has everything you need for a little weekend away.

Plus, if you are lucky, like I was, you might catch a glimpse of the most photogenic people on the planet.

Three Steps!

Not one step.
Not two steps.
Three steps!
My baby took three steps today. And then he took four.

It was spontaneous, so no pictures or video yet. But I've been replaying it over and over again in my head for the last three hours.

Three steps!

Toy Boxes

When we started collecting enough toys to warrant a toy box, my sister suggested footstools with storage. The idea was that with toy boxes masquerading as foot stools, our condo would return to being "organized and adultish". Now I'm just grasping for "slightly less crazy".

We immediately recognized the footstools' potential to keep Jett away from the tv.

You can see how well that worked out.

Two Food Truths

Just like my brother discovered that everything tastes better with Ranch dressing, Jett has discovered the other truth about food: everything tastes better with cheese. Strained peas. Pasta with red sauce. Strained summer vegetables. Blended carrots. Asparagus and mushrooms (just kidding - even Jett knows that nothing tastes good on asparagus and mushrooms, even when they're organic and freshly steamed and blended by mom).

Anyway. If we're in the middle of a meal and he's getting fussy, we just pull out the cheese. Place one tiny piece of shredded cheese on top of whatever it is that's on the spoon, and he just opens up his little mouth waiting to be fed. It's impossible to argue with him about the cheese, because I know he's right.

Your First Birthday

Dear Jett,

Your birthday was long ago and I haven't even written about it yet. I guess it's just because there's so much I want to say, and it's daunting to get started.

You're just the sweetest thing.

Daddy and I started celebrating your birthday a few days before the actual anniversary of your birth. We took you on the bus downtown to play in the fountains. Until last weekend you had never been on a bus before, and you were totally chill on your first trip. At the fountains it took a few minutes for you to get used to the water. (It didn't help that we unknowingly set you down in the coldest part of the fountain - sorry about that, buddy). You stayed still on your hands and knees, with one hand in the air until you were ready to start crawling.



But then you were off! You crawled the entire length of the fountain at least two times. You were one of the youngest babies there, and you were having so much fun, which means that so were Daddy and I.



After we ate lunch (outside in the stroller) and walked around the park for a while we stopped and bought popsicles. I was really looking forward to giving you your first taste of dessert, but by the time we bought the popsicle and found a nice shady spot in the grass, you were fast asleep. So we waited awhile to let you sleep, then we got on the bus to come home. It all sounds like such a simple day and I suppose it doesn't sound extraordinary, but it was, it was! My baby is a year old! I wanted to tell everyone on the bus.



But our day wasn't over. A friend had a barbecue, and his barbecue is in his backyard, and his backyard is covered in grass, so you were all over it. You were just so happy all day - like every day - and it just does a mama good to see her baby so happy.

The next day you had your first restaurant meal. It wasn't planned - but Daddy and I forgot your food. So Daddy ordered extra meatballs in his meatball sub and I ordered a salad with all kinds of Jett-friendly food on the top of it, and you had the lunch of your life. Eating lunch with your baby at a sandwich shop doesn't sound extraordinary, but it was! It was! I just kept thinking, "I have a baby! At a restaurant! Eating real food! And he's one year old!" I wanted to tell every single person who walked by.

Daddy and I were up late the night before your birthday. We decorated your bedroom door and baked you a cake - a double layer cake with white whipped, dripping frosting covered in sprinkles. The next morning I peeked into your room to find you sitting in the middle of your crib, talking aloud to the decorations on your door. I don't think I'm ever going to be able to take them down now, since they entertain you so well.



Somehow it didn't occur to either of us to take your birthday off to work, so we trudged to the bus stop, counting the minutes until we would get home. It was your birthday! So I was happy all day. I kept interrupting conversations at inappropriate times just to inform everyone that my baby is one year old!

Your birthday party was short and sweet. Grammy and Grandpa Bob came over, along with Ellie and her fam and our friend Monica. Somehow I think you knew that all of the attention was on you, and you hammed it up, smiling, and laughing, and giggling all evening. You opened presents and wore your birthday hat and crawled around all over the place. You even kissed Ellie on the lips.

We sang Happy Birthday to you, but you didn't really know how to take it. You just kind of hung out in my arms watching everyone sing to you. Then we sat you in your highchair and presented you with a piece of cake, which you ever so gingerly tasted with one little finger-full of frosting at a time. Finally when you were sure it was tasty you grabbed a fistful and aimed it at your face.



Amazingly enough, despite all of the fun and distractions, you fell asleep on cue and went to bed on time. Little do you know that the parties are just beginning. We still get to celebrate with my side of the family next week. I think I could celebrate your birthday every day for the rest of my life - actually, I already do.

_____________________________________

I didn't really want this post to be just a reporting of your birthday activities. I wanted to capture your one-year-old essence. The drool that drips shiny off your chin after you've kissed me, mouth open four or five times in a row. The feel of your warm, damp head after a few minutes of tickling and wrestling on your bedroom floor. The sound of your squeals during our ritual of chasing you and catching you and kissing you before bedtime. The clever little look on your face every time you drop your cup from your highchair. The way you start to close your eyes every time I get to the second verse of the lullabye. The way you let your head fall back and sleepily open your eyes half way to look up at me as I lay you in your crib.

Happy Birthday, sweet baby. We love you.

One

Oh, Jett. One year ago today, one year ago right now, I started pushing and the universe started pulling, and you started making your way into our world.

We think that's pretty terrific too. Happy Birthday, Jett! We love you!

Sidelines

Isn't the definition of "Family" sitting on the sidelines cheering somebody on? I know my parents spent years of their life sitting in folding chairs (or wishing they had remembered the folding chairs) in the sun, in the rain, in the wind, and the snow, watching their kids on the field.

Last Saturday Jett and I spent the first of what I'm sure will be many Saturdays on the sidelines, watching the dad play his game of soccer. I've actually been looking forward to this for a while, because spending part of a day outside on a soccer field isn't a bad way to spend the day. Of course I used to be the one on the field, and now I'm the mom on the sidelines hanging out with her baby on a sunny afternoon in the park.

After the Bath

Jett loves his bath. When I say the word "bath" he looks at the bathroom door and starts to grin. When I stand him naked next to the tub, he bounces up and down making his happy noises. When I turn the water on and wait for it to get warm, he whines. He's just so excited to get in the tub, and when I finally pick him up and set him in it, he looks all around, wondering how he got there.

He loves the rubber duck that covers the water faucet. He always tries to stand up and play with it, and every time he stands up, Charlie and I sit him back down. We run through the routine a dozen times almost every bath, and Jett never tires of it and rarely complains. He stands up, we sit him down, over and over again, until we can get him interested in the foam letters that stick to the side of the tub. He likes to chew on those. Sometimes he notices the drain, and spends minute after minute lifting it up and pushing it back down.

He also likes to lick the soap suds off his hands, suck on the washcloth, and drink the bathwater.

He doesn't like to get out of the bath, and he complains when we take him out and dry him off. But tonight he was in a good mood - he even let me dry his hair and leave the towel on his head. So I let him crawl around the house naked. It only seemed fair.

Diapers

The expense. The stench. The sheer number of times I've stood at the changing table, trying to fasten a diaper around a squirming Jett.

We've been living a diaper soap opera over here the last eleven months, with mysterious rashes needing identification, with the guilt of a thousand landfills, and the grossness of dunking cloth in the toilet and then wringing it out.

So I thought I'd tell you all about it.

Before Jett was born I decided that with everything else I had to learn, I wasn't going to overwhelm myself with trying to learn about cloth diapers when I already knew all about the disposable kind. I mean, my head was already swimming with a million details, I just couldn't cram one more bit of information - like how to wash a cloth diaper without contaminating my washing machine, how to fold a cloth diaper, and how to rinse the poop out before I washed it. I mean, gross. And like I said, I had enough non-gross stuff to think about, so forget about cloth diapers.

Then I talked to a friend who's very ecologically-minded. Rides her bike all over the place. Collects rainwater for her garden or something. She doesn't have a baby, but her friend does, and you know, she told me how easy cloth diapering is. She said a little poo in the washing machine wasn't going to kill me. And she's a doctor and all, so it got me thinking.

But then. Then my sister told me about the gdiaper. The flushable diaper. The diaper I wouldn't have to dunk in the toilet. The diaper that comes in many colors and is oh so stylish. Ahead of the times really, because they had just come to the U.S. I could be a trend-setter. Jett would be the most stylish baby on the block. And I'd be saving the planet, which is my second-highest priority, after making sure that Jett looks good in his diaper.

So I ordered the starter kit. They seemed to work, so I ordered a bunch more. In bulk. To save money. And he leaked through every single one. It seems he just didn't have the belly for them. Seriously, they were all baggy in the belly. And flushing them is hardly less gross than dunking them in the toilet anyway, because you still have to carry them to the bathroom and then rip them down the center before you toss them in the toilet, which pretty much means your hands are all over them. But still, what a disappointment. They were so cute. And now they're taking up valuable space in my closet. And I was going to save the planet.

Then another friend said she was going to put her baby in cloth diapers. And I am a follower and easily persuaded so I went over to her house before her baby was born and we tried all of her clean sparkling diapers on Jett. She showed me how to fold them and fasten them, and who knew there were so many different styles of diapers? Fleece and wool, cotton, and hemp. So many colors! So many different types of fasteners - velcro, snaps, little grippy things. They were actually cute. Oh so cute. I thought maybe I would give it a try. Because you know, I want to save the planet and stop global warming and reduce the landfills.

So I bought five, in three different styles. They work great. Once I figured out what size he was and started putting him in the right size, they rarely leaked. They looked cute. I felt like a good citizen of the earth. It's just that I kept forgetting to wash them. Or I just simply didn't have time to wash them. And that, my friends, is gross. Stinky. And exasperates Charlie.

And that's the thing. How is a person supposed to get everything they need to get done in a day and fit in a load of wash? It sounds easy, but it's not. Especially when you aren't home half the week. I don't care what anyone says. Disposable diapers are easier. And that is the secret to life at the moment - making it easy.

So I struck a compromise with my fashionable side, my practical side, and my ecological side and have been using the cloth diapers on the weekends. Most weekends. Well, many weekends at least. The rest of the week we use disposables. But I started recycling to make up for that. (I know, I know, it doesn't really make up for it).

Actually, having a kid is pretty inspiring. It makes you look to the future and all that. Makes you want to give your kid a clean and healthy planet.

So every few months I drag the gdiapers out of the closet and try them on Jett again. Last weekend he wore three in a row and didn't leak at all, so I think we'll try them again this weekend. And then maybe I'll start using them during the week a bit - since I shouldn't have to wash them. I guess I can put up with the mess of carrying them to the bathroom and all. They're just so cute. I mean, I want to save the earth.

Push!

Jett learns something new every day. Last week he started playing with his toy bus the way it is meant to be played with. No longer does he just flip the bus over so he can spin the wheels. He actually pushes it and makes it go. Sometimes he sits in one place and pushes it around himself in a circle. Other times he crawls along behind it and pushes all the way across the floor. I'm just waiting for him to start making the "vroom, vroom!" sound to go with it.



Yesterday he was able to place his tiny wooden car on the tiny wooden ramp. He learned how to push the car down the ramp a few weeks ago, but until yesterday he wasn't able to set it down correctly on the track. One day later he's a pro at it. Way to go, Jett!

Step One

You're so sweet, Jett. You took your first step today.

Daddy had given you an orange to play with, which you were rolling all over the house. You and your orange made your way over to the arm of the couch, where your sippy cup was laying on it's side. You stood up, orange in hand, and tried to drink from the overturned sippy cup. (At this point I stopped folding clothes and started watching you, to see how you were going to manage standing, holding the orange, and drinking from the overturned sippy cup all at the same time). What you did was, you tossed the orange down on the ground and watched it roll to the fireplace. Then you tossed your sippy cup on the ground at your feet. You looked back to the orange, and it looked like you wanted it, so I told you to go ahead and walk on over to that orange. You looked like you were considering it, and then I was afraid that you really would walk over there - and your first steps would be on wood and granite, in front of a glass-covered fireplace. So I quickly dropped the sheet I was folding, knelt down on the carpet and asked you to walk to mama, jett, walk to mama. I held my arms out, you held your arms out, I smiled at you, you smiled at me, and you took your first barefoot step. (It was with your right foot). I leaned in, you leaned in, and then your little arms were around my neck, and it was all over, quick as a wink.

Daddy watched from the kitchen, where he was writing a grocery list. It's funny how such an extraordinary thing can happen at such an ordinary time.

But we still love him

Ok, I admit it. He does get fussy once in a while.

Averages

How many times will a baby throw his spoon during a meal?
How many breakfasts in a row will a baby eat yogurt and cheerios?
How long will he be fascinated with the toilet seat?
How many baths will he poop in?
I'm just wondering, because Jett is an above-average baby, and he is really excelling in these particular categories.

What is this stuff?

We don't have a lawn of our own, but the Botanical Garden has a huge one. A huge, luscious, landscaped, green paradise that we don't have to mow, weed, or fertilize (although we do have to pay $15 to use it and they don't allow you to spread a blanket out on top of it). Still, what a gorgeous day for Jett's first picnic, and a great way to meet up with my friend, Beth.

This was a momentous day for a few reasons. First of all, at 20 miles, it was the furthest I've ever driven Jett by myself. I know lots of parents who drive their kids all the time by themselves, but I just don't have to do that much, other than the occasional trip to Target or the doctor's. Usually when Jett is in the car, both Charlie and I are in the car, and one of us always sits in the back next to Jett. So like I said, this was a big road trip for Jett and me, and I'm happy to report that we both enjoyed it. I played my music and Jett babbled along in the backseat. Now that we've got 20 miles under our belt, we're ready for a real road trip. Where to go, where to go?

Secondly, this was Jett's first time in the grass. Grass without dog poop in it. Grass without trash in it. Grass without broken glass in it. (Our neighborhood sounds lovely, doesn't it? I really like our neighborhood, there's just something about our block and all of the littering and lazy dog walking). Anyway, I took Jett out of the stroller and plopped him in the middle of the blanket (before the blanket police told Beth and I that blankets weren't allowed). He crawled right to the edge of the blanket and spent a couple of minutes gingerly patting the grass with his hands. Then he sat on the edge of the blanket - one leg on the grass, one leg on the blanket. He was only a couple of feet from the stroller, and you know how enticing the wheels of the stroller are. He LOVES the wheels on the stroller. He sat there looking at the wheels and patting the grass with his hands until he couldn't take it any longer - he finally got on his hands and knees and crawled on over there. After that there was no stopping him. He crawled down towards the pond and he crawled over to the flower bed, which brings us to our next momentous event...

He tried to crawl into the flower bed feet first. This is exciting because I have spent the last few weeks (or is it months?) trying to teach Jett to get down from the couch feet first. Every time he starts heading off the couch I say, "Feet first, Jett!" and I swing his little legs around and help him slide down. Well this flower bed was dug out about an inch lower than the lawn, and didn't he just crawl right up to that flower bed and swing his little legs around so he could crawl off the lawn feet first? He only had a one inch drop, so it was kind of hilarious, but I was so proud! Of course I couldn't let him play in the flower bed, so our celebration was short-lived. But it was a celebration nonetheless. Way to go, Jett.

Happy Mother's Day

For Mother's Day, my baby slept for a fair amount of the 6 hour drive to my Aunt Sally's. He only woke up once in the night (at the hotel), and then he humored us by letting us take him into the chilly hotel pool. When we finally got to the family party, he charmed the pants off of everyone, then promptly took a nap. When he woke up he crawled all over the place and cracked up at the dog. It was a good day.


Here are Uncle Rich, Aunt Heather, and Cousin Megan on the swing.

Happy Day!

Eleven Months Old

Happy Birthday, Jett. Today you are eleven months old.



You've learned a lot in these last four weeks. You stand unassisted for a few moments at a time. You've started pulling the toilet paper off of the roll, and you have a fascination with the refrigerator. Most recently you've begun giving up the army crawl in favor of the more traditional variety of crawling on your hands and knees. You've also almost got the hang of getting down from the couch feet-first, and we've almost gotten you out of the habit of sucking on the wrong end of the spoon. We're so proud of you.

Yesterday I packed your diaper bag so you would have everything you needed in order to take a nap at Aunt Jenny's. You saw your favorite blanket (which is actually my pajama top) sticking out of the top of the bag, you grabbed it, and thus it has started: you and your blanket, your new bff. What I mean is, you've started crawling around the house while holding on to your blanket. You've stopped whimpering when I hand you the blanket. You want to hold the blanket when I change your diaper and when you get ready for bed. It's sweet. I just wish we had two of them, just in case.

You are entirely mobile and Daddy thinks you'll start walking in a week. I think it's going to be a little longer than that, but it's not far. You're so cute crawling around, getting where you want to go, but your mobility poses some challenges. We've had to baby-proof the cupboards and doors, and we have to swiffer the floors every day, since you want to eat anything that falls on it. It's harder to take you out now, because you always want to get down and investigate your surroundings, but unfortunately the world is not baby proofed.

You're really showing us your preferences too. For example, you refuse to lay down for me when I change your diaper, so I've had to learn how to change you when you're standing. Lately you've tried to remain sitting while I change you, but trust me, that is just not going to work.



You've missed your grammy these last few weeks. She's home taking care of her mom, so Daddy and I have been juggling your care between the two of us, and lots of help from Aunt Jenny. Grandpa Bob came down this week to watch you for three days too. Some babies wouldn't be able to handle the changing circumstances of every day, but you just go with the flow. We're so lucky. We miss grammy too, but we love getting to spend this extra time with you.

Speaking of spending extra time with you, I thought you might have started giving up nursing one of these days, but no. You've been known to try to start lifting my shirt up when you want to nurse, which is funny at home, but kind of awkward everywhere else. I'm trying to teach you a "sign" for nursing, so you'll stop with the shirt-pulling thing, but so far you haven't caught on.

But we are communicating more and more all the time. You know the sign for "eat" now, and when I say the words "eat" or "dinner" you sign it back to me. I don't know how you learned that "dinner" means eat - as far as I can remember, I've never signed it to you. I think you know what the words "bath" and "book" mean. And when we carry you down the stairs of our building, you get so excited. You perk right up and kick your legs and pump your arms up and down and make happy little Jett noises. I think you must love going outside.



As you know, Daddy has spent the last six weeks getting up with you in the middle of the night, and he must be doing something right, because you're developing better sleep habits. You rarely need a bottle at night anymore, and you're getting better at sleeping straight through too. Often you still wake up in the middle of the night and just need a little attention - Daddy might read you a book, or just hold you and rock. I'm as amazed as you that I don't even hear you cry at night anymore. Daddy is doing a great job. Don't worry, I hear you in the morning, when my shift starts. On that note I'd like to ask a favor. Could you sleep in just a little bit? 5:30 and 6:00 is way early, buddy.

Despite the fact that you wake up so, so early, I love our mornings together, snuggling on the couch, reading books, and looking out the window. I think we're going to have to start watching less of the morning news though. Yesterday morning you crawled on over to the tv and bounced up and down in front of it making your happy noises.

Oh, the things we're learning from you. You're the best teacher ever. Happy Birthday, Jett. We love you.



P.S. Thanks for the fab photos, Miss Falbo!