daddy moments

Dad is a great dad. Wanna see why?

Naptime with Lucas.

Tickles with Ruth.

first day of preschool!

Ruth had her first day of preschool yesterday. The dropoff went rather smoothly. Contrary to stories I had heard about other mothers, I didn’t get emotional when I dropped her off. Rather, I found myself waxing sentimental when I saw Steve pull up to our parking space, and pull a sleepy toddler out of the car. She’s my big girl now, I thought.

It’s a large change in the life of a parent when your child starts having experiences without you around. Of course, that’s what growing up entails–more independence. To me, it’s frightening and exhilarating to think of all the things that my children will do, say, explore, and more, without me. They’re vulnerable, but you have to let go in order to let them learn, and to let your heart stretch a little bit too.

In a way, it’s a good thing that human dependence lasts for comparatively long; I don’t think parents are built for a mere six week infant-to-adolescent transition, like a kitten. However much we long for our kids to think for themselves, we’re just as enthralled with their neediness as they are with us.

None of these thoughts are new, of course. There’s nothing new under the sun. But she’s my first, and so with her, so much of life is new, like the first sounds of birds in the morning. The changes she goes through are like whiffs of seasons in the air. Tonight I dressed her brother in a red sleeper she wore a year ago. Has it been that long?

Musings before bed

I’m singing Ruth to bed. I’ve been doing that ever since she was born. She’s an anxious girl, nervous about going to sleep on her own. I don’t blame her. She’s always been small for her age, and I’d like to think that made her feisty.

The sound of my voice stops her from talking. It helps her calm down enough to close her eyes. Lately, because she’s scared to lie down, I tell her that when I sing, she can lie down, because it makes “all the bad stuff go away.”

Wouldn’t it be great if I really had that magical power, eh?

Lucas, however, must be held and cuddled to bed. I don’t think the singing matters as much for him. For him, it’s all about touch and closeness; knowing you’re near through the electricity of contact.

Lucas goes to bed much more easily than Ruth now, but he’s a lighter sleeper. Go figure. I can sit next to Ruth and yell her name, and she won’t budge.
What a pair.

The scar

Lucas nestled in my arms this afternoon, nursing quietly in between fits of talkativeness and enthusiastic whapping of various toys. I held his left arm–thick and padded–in my hand. I thought about the miniature skeleton underneath it, so delicate and sturdy at the same time.

Then, I noticed it–his scar.

A few weeks ago, we discovered that Lucas was strong enough to open the oven door entirely on his own. We learned it the hard way. Yes, he cried, but not nearly as much as his injury warranted. An ugly scab formed in a loose crescent shape on his left forearm. As with many childhood injuries, it dissipated quickly, almost miraculously.

The skin is now pink and smooth in a plastic way, as though someone taped the scar on to his soft, delicate baby skin. I’m sure it will fade easily over time. I may grow to miss the scar, even, because it symbolizes my boy’s strength and curiosity.

I hope he’s learned his lesson about ovens, though.

And Then There Were Two

I’m officially a mom of two. I’m outnumbered when alone. There’s one for each of us when Steve is by my side.

I’m also the parent of a willful toddler (but what toddler isn’t willful, really?).

Lucas is–to be horribly cliche–his own person. He’s not at all what I remember Ruthie being like. She clung to me like a burr to a wool sweater. She needed me to co-sleep and nurse her to dreamland every night. She woke me every two hours for the first three months of her life.

In the past two nights (I’ll say it though I don’t want to jinx it), Lucas has let me sleep for 5 hour chunks of time. FIVE HOURS, I tell you. And he readily sleeps by himself in the baby swing. It’s utterly astounding.

He’s a hungry kid; during the day he’ll nurse every 2-3 hours. Every now and again cry to be held. Since he’s a boy, I’ve had to look out for the pee fountain at diaper changes. Boy, does he like to fill his pants, too.

He’s a big kid; nearly two pounds larger than Ruth at birth (5lbs 12oz vs. 7lbs 8oz), and just a few days ago weighed in at 8lbs 3oz–already gaining weight in the first week.

We gave him his first bath yesterday. He is one week old.

…

Ruth seems okay with him being around. She’s fascinated. She won’t leave him alone. She likes to put toys and extra binkies in his swing with him. She likes to shake the swing to rock him (which we discourage, of course), and tries to sit in the swing like he does when he’s not there (which we also discourage, since she’ll break it). She asks to hold him. She tries to pick him up herself.

But she’s also started throwing tantrums, and had a few tough nights going to bed. She’s a good girl, very obedient, and normally a dream at bedtime and naptime. We’ve had consistency, living at Steve’s parents’ house. In about a week we’ll throw all that consistency out the window and fly to Boston. Hopefully she won’t be too disoriented.

She’s going to really miss her grandparents, Papa and Mamou. I’m going to miss them, too, because watching her play and engage with them is one of my favorite things to do.

…

Soon, I’ll write his birth story, as well as a general reflection on all the crazy stuff that’s happened to us since July.

P.S. See more photos of Lucas here.

Almost Talking; Almost

Ruth is quite the chatterbox. She looks you in the eye, points and gestures, and even laughs at things she thinks are silly or jokes. I can’t understand a word she’s saying, but she is saying words that resemble other words, like “Hi!” and “baby” and “daddy.” Her favorite almost-word is something that resembles “that,” only the “th” is more like a “d” and the “t” at the end is more like an “s”. “Dhats,” is more like it, if I’d have to spell it.

She’s also almost jumping… as in, she does occasionally launch herself off the ground. Always a climber, I find her on the kitchen table and ambitiously exploring new territories. I have a feeling that the talking and jumping will come at the same time, and we’ll have our hands even more full than they are already.

In Other News

We’ve decided that Tapeworm (as we’ve affectionately called him) will be named Lucas. Middle names are up for grabs. Steve has always wanted to name one of his future sons Lucas, and we figured that since you never know what’s going to be thrown at you, we might as well name this one Lucas. It’s funny how less opinionated I am about naming the second child than I was the first, at least, I feel more at ease letting Steve “get” the name. Perhaps I’ll be picky with the third, I don’t know! Maybe I have too much else to care about!

I do believe that names are important, but I’m not going to wrench myself over what to name our children. We’ll go for nice names that we like, and that’s that.

Work Work Work

Remaining before my self-imposed maternity leave: 3 weddings, 2 engagement portraits, 1 family session, and 1 glamor/girly session. It’s a lot of work, but I’m grateful to be over the halfway point of my weddings season. I still have a lot of photo editing to do, as well as marketing and planning for next year, but I think that will have to wait until my “leave” starts. The winter will be a good time to get myself together and prep for an amazing 2010 season. Inquiries are up for me now, and I’ve been asked to quote three different destination weddings (never been asked before!).

And Prayer, Please

We have a lot to do before we move; please cover it in prayer for us.

Of Cowgirl Boots and Favorite Foods

Ruth: it’s hard to know where to start.

The little munchkin is growing rapidly (don’t they always?). She’s still small for her age, according to those doctor’s charts, but boy, is she strong and coordinated. She walks and runs with assurance, and even attempts a jump or two. She’s brave, but a little on the shy side, preferring to observe kids at a safe distance before making friends.

Tiny Wonder Kid

I Bought A Toddler Harness and I Have No Regrets

I just bought a harness for my toddler.
My reasons? Plenty. Ruth has absolutely no fear, the propensity to run, a love of exploration, an unfettered determination. She simply does not care how far away she gets from me, will not listen to my verbal or physical commands, and will put herself into physical danger without a thought. One day I caught her standing on her father’s desk, four feet above the floor. In the mall, she tried to go up the down escalator while I was running after her. She’ll think nothing of trying to jump off a series of concrete steps, either.
I can chase and command her a dozen times over (believe me, I’ve counted), and it won’t make a lick of difference. At 15 months, both “time-outs” and even a light slap on the hand (if the infraction involves fire or electricity) aren’t guaranteed to curb her enthusiasm for discovery.
I never made the decision that I wouldn’t ever use a harness or leash under any circumstance. I vaguely remember being harnessed as a child, and distinctly remember that my brother Kevin was harnessed whenever we went to the grocery store with my mother, and on other public outing occasions.
(Kevin was notorious for disappearing and hiding in department stores, too. You never really knew what he was going to think up next. In one famous family episode, he took off on his tricycle a few blocks down our street to “look for me,” while I was visiting a friend’s house. That was the only time I ever heard my mother swear.)
As a result of this, using a harness on a child was a normal possibility for my future. I don’t feel that using a harness means you’re treating the child like an animal. Most of all, using one does not mean that you’re too lazy to parent your child.
Therefore when I went searching for a toddler harness (or leash), I found myself indignant and surprised at the negative reactions that some parents have to them. I got angry, even, and occasionally scoffed out loud.
I realize that with regard to many parenting issues, you’re going to find people at extremes; debate can be productive and thought-provoking. Sharing stories, pros, and cons can help people come to their own decisions on an issue. I just didn’t think this was an issue where you would find that much debate. For me, it’s an “Well, if you need it,” issue, to be dismissed with a shrug.
So if any of these vehement anti-leash anti-harness parents confront me in public about it, that’s what I’ll do.
I don’t plan on using it all the time. She’s only one kid, and there are plenty of times when the stroller is tolerable, or when I can chase after her. She’s gotten wise to being careful stairs, after much instruction and one incident of falling. Certainly there will come a day when everything I’m trying to do will click.
The days will also come when I am too large and pregnant, or too encumbered by a newborn and all his gear, that I just won’t be able to chase her down if she tries to run into traffic, or some other horrifying scenario.
And that’s why it’s okay to harness your toddler.

It’s Official: All Grown Up

It’s official: my daughter is now officially All Grown Up. Over a week ago, she stopped nursing, cold turkey.

I breastfed her nearly exclusively for the first 6 months of her life, and never expected it all to last as long as 14 months. I’m not sure what I expected, honestly. My big plan was that if she could ask for it with words, we’d stop.

That never happened. Towards the end, she was nursing just once a day, in the mornings. And what people have told me is true: in spite of the headaches that came with it, I kind of miss it now.

She really is a totally different kid now!