Temptation

I took Jett to his regular check up today. He's great, except he keeps getting taller but not fatter. So our doctor gave us some tips on increasing his calorie intake. This is what she suggested we feed him: heavy cream in his yogurt, brown sugar on his fruit, cream cheese mixed w/ scrambled eggs, and ice cream layered between two pieces of cake. I guarantee that one of us will gain weight in the next three months. It better be Jett.

Snacks

I may have just ruined Cheerios for Jett. Do you think it was too early to start on the Cinnamon Toast Crunch?

Stomach Virus

Or Why I Haven't Posted in Over a Week

It's been a messy, dreadful, exhausting week. I won't go in to the details, but I've learned a few lessons this week that I would like to share.

1. Immediately after your baby throws up, he might be very, very thirsty. He might beg you for a drink. He will cry and his face will get red and little tears will leak out of his eyes, but DO NOT GIVE HIM ANYTHING TO DRINK FOR 30 MINUTES. Otherwise it will come right back at you and then you will both be crying. You are his mom, so it should be easy to entertain him for those thirty minutes.
2. Once he's had his first sip of pedialyte or water or whatever, and you know he can keep it down, you should give him a few more sips every 5 minutes. YOU DO NOT NEED TO WAIT 30 MINUTES BETWEEN SIPS. No wonder your baby is still crying. Geesh.
3. Buy a better book that will put 5 MINUTES and 30 MINUTES in bold so you do not get confused.
4. If your baby is going to poop through his diaper make sure he is with his aunt so you don't have to deal with it.
5. If both parents and baby are going to be sick at the same time, make sure that an aunt and a grandma are willing to risk their own health, and the health of their families, to take care of you and yours.

One last message for Virus: I'm done playing the student now and Jett is tired of being your model, so get out of my house. And take those messy diapers with you.

15 Months

Today Jett is 15 months old. Jett - with his 5 little teeth and his size 6 feet - is 15 months old. Sweet Jett.

This has been an excellent month. A month of eating, climbing, and signing.

Eating
This month I finally let Jett hold an entire piece of food himself. I seem to be more hesitant than other parents I know about how big of a piece of food I let Jett put in his mouth. But my hesitancy hasn't really caused any problems for Jett, and hey, I've never had to fish anything out of his throat either. Besides, he has a very small mouth. Anyway, now he holds peaches and bananas and graham crackers all by himself. Such an exciting development (for me at least) with such a mundane benefit: now that I let Jett hold his own food I can unload the dishwasher while he eats.



But that's not all. You should see what my baby eats. Two bananas for breakfast, plus a small bowl of Rice Krispies with milk, plus some cut up strawberries, and some blueberries. This week he was willing to eat tofu and broccoli blended in cottage cheese, which just goes to show you that he didn't get my taste buds when the chromosomes divided.

Climbing
I know most kids Jett's age are natural climbers and he is no exception. He climbs up his highchair, his crib, the stove, the stairs, his changing table, and he climbs on me. My favorite activity with him right now is to push the foot stool up against the couch. He climbs up on to the footstool and throws himself down on the couch, giggling.

Signing
We started teaching Jett a few signs just for the fun of it a few months ago. It's pretty intriguing to watch him catch on to the signs. He learns them pretty quickly now. Tonight we were laying on the couch and I started "quizzing" him on the signs. (I know that sounds ridiculous, but we were just goofing around). Most of the time, when I said a word, he could sign it. His favorite right now is "rabbit". The sign is to put your fingers over your head like rabbit ears. (I made that one up). The thing about signing is, it's not like we have real conversations that way. Sure, he knows the sign for elephant, but how often do you say "elephant"? For now anyway, signing is mostly a fun party trick, and believe me, we'd be a hit at a party, if we could stay awake past 8:00.

I could go on and on but we haven't been sleeping much these past 10 days and it's hard to write creatively when you are as tired as this. Jett either has allergies or a cold but except for the lack of sleep and the constant nose wiping, he's great. He's always great. Even when he's not great, he's great.

Happy Birthday, Baby Jett. We love you.

The Park

Today at the park Jett slid down the little baby slide all by himself and then he slid down the bigger baby slide all by himself. So brave! Then he said "hi" to a new person for maybe the first time. So social! Then he demanded that I break my back and hold him up so he could drink out of the water fountain (he had his first drink from a water fountain last week with Charlie) even though he had a perfectly fine sippy cup full of water right in his stroller. So Charlie's fault.

But Then He's So Good!

So we're trying to slowly cut out the bottles. Part of the problem with this is that Jett doesn't like to drink milk from his sippy cups, and he's supposed to drinking some milk every day. Charlie, who gets up with Jett in the middle of the night now, has stopped offering Jett a bottle in the middle of the night, and Jett has been just fine without it. And for the last few days I've only given him a bottle when I have to change his diaper - because then he's so good. I only put a couple of ounces of milk in it so he'll have it finished by the time I'm done with his diaper. But just 10 minutes ago I filled up the whole bottle with milk - what was I thinking - and changed his diaper, set him down on the floor, and walked in to the kitchen. I never took the bottle back from him so he's still walking around with it. But if something keeps him so quiet and so occupied and so content, can it really be a bad thing?

Besides, I happen to know for a fact that Charlie gave him a bottle last night.

At least we never let him climb up onto the stove. We do have some limits.

Update: Finished that bottle, threw it on the ground, and is now walking around with a snapshot of my sister. Maybe I can hand that to him when I change his diaper. I'm sure that's an association they'd both like to develop.

When is a Baby Not a Baby?

• When he starts eating ice cream cones?
• When he can feed himself macaroni and cheese?
• When he will find his shoes and try to put them on, find his hat and try to put it on, and then take hold of your finger and walk you to the door in order to convey that he wants to play outside?
• When he can climb into his highchair by himself?
• When he can use the toilet as a stepping stone to the sink?

I know, I know. Now I'm just bragging.

Lunch Time

Charlie and I have different philosophies when it comes to feeding Jett. Charlie feeds Jett everything, bit by bit, spoonful by spoonful. I tend to hand Jett the spoon and let him go at it. Both methods have their advantages. For example, Charlie usually doesn't have to sweep and mop the floor when he's done. But I get all the good pictures.

Cousins on Vacation

My camera came out as infrequently as the sun, but at least, like the sun, it came out once in a while. Here are some sweet sweet pictures of Jett and his cousins in the old house on the lake.

I think the raft spent more time on the living room floor than it spent in the lake. It worked out perfectly as a tickling mat.

Jett was very kissy during this vacation.

a jett sandwich

On Our Way Home

We're on our way home from vacation a day early. Why a day early you ask? Let me count the reasons: this was the coldest week our vacation spot saw this summer and the thermometer read two record lows. It rained every day. For 5 minutes the wind blew about 70 miles an hour. It blew over the grill, knocked over a giant willow tree, rolled up part of the shoreline line like a rug and knocked out our electricity for the rest of the week. At least we were vacationing with some of the most fun people Jett is lucky enough to be related to. Pictures coming up in the next post.

On the Train

Jett and I are currently on Amtrak on our way to the Hall family vacation in Michigan. Charlie can't come until later in the week, but Jett and I couldn't wait to get started, so here we are. Jett made a lot of friends on the train as we walked up and down the aisles again and again and again. Now he is sleeping on the empty seat next to me. If the 6 year old on the other side of me would settle down he might even keep sleeping. Fingers crossed - the train is already an hour late.

What We Do...

...when Uncle Nathan is in town:

We check out the largest corn hole tournament in the midwest and toss a few ourselves.
We visit Homer and friends at the Kwik-E-Mart.
We get a little messy.





It was a great weekend!

Lion Hugs

When I get home from work in the evening all I want to do is kneel down so Jett can run in to my arms and receive my hugs and kisses. Usually though, when I walk in the door, he looks up, turns around, and walks the other way. He'll stop and look back, and then keep walking. It's not until I walk over to the sink to wash my hands (washing all the bus germs off) that he finally comes to me. Then when he does, he pulls on my pant legs, whining. I'll take the whining, of course. But after ten hours apart, I wouldn't mind an occasional leap in to my arms, an occasional flurry of kisses, an occasional bear hug.

Look at this lion being reunited with the humans who raised him.This is what I'm talking about.

What He Does Now

When Jett wants to go outside (which is just about every morning when Charlie and I leave for work), he tries to open the closet where we keep the stroller. Then he stands below the hooks where we hang our keys, and then he walks to the front door.

When I sign "bath" he walks to the bathroom, and when I open the door, he walks in and tries to climb in the tub.

And when I ask for a kiss, he puckers up and lays one on me. (If he's in the right mood, of course.)

Fourteen Months

Jett is fourteen months old. He can walk. He can get on and off his rocking horse. He can say "ball". He can pull my shirt up and try to nurse in public.

I thought he would have stopped by now. I hoped he would have stopped by now. But without realizing it, and without planning on it, we've entered that misunderstood world of extended breastfeeding. That world where the nicest people ask me how long I'm planning on breastfeeding my son, and then say, "well, I guess it's ok as long as he's not still doing it when he's two, or three, or fill-in-the-blank-with-whatever-they-think-is-socially-acceptable."

I think they're trying to let me know that even though I'm crazy, I've still got time to make it back to normalville if I get him off of my breast right now.

The thing is, I have no idea how long I'm going to nurse Jett. When he was born my goal was six months. At six months I hoped for twelve months, and at twelve months I expected him to stop nursing, get a driver's license, and drink coffee for breakfast. But here we are, still drinking our favorite breakfast, only now we've got teeth to deal with too.

Maybe you will understand if I put this way. Picture the usual evening. He tries to turn on the oven and I say, "No." He wants to play on the kitchen counter but I say, "No." He wants to play with my cell phone, and I say, "No." He wants to sit in the dishwasher, but I say, "No."

No, no no. Cry, cry, cry. Stomp, stomp, stomp. Grump, grump, grump.

Then he climbs up into my lap, curls in to my arms, and snuggles in. I say yes. Every time, yes.

He's my baby. Yes, yes, yes.

Go! I said go!

In Honor of Ruby

1916 - 2007

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.