Dear Jack Boy,
I read this post today written by The Honest Toddler, and it made me think of you (and cry, because that's what moms do sometimes).
The Woman
Sometimes you seem so big, but other times, it's not hard to remember how little you really are. Some days, you struggle with that. Some days, so do I.
Maybe I always will, just a little, because even when you're big, I'll remember when we were one.
Saturday, December 15, 2012
Saturday, November 24, 2012
Miracle of Miracles, Part 2
It's official. You've done it. You've slept through the night. Last night I put you to bed just before seven and, as usual, you sang to yourself for a few minutes. By 7:10, I stopped hearing you. I heard a little whine at 10:20, and another at 10:30, but nothing more.
I went to bed and woke at 2:00, listening for you. Why, I wonder, when I have hoped so long for you to sleep without waking me, am I waking myself? I found it hard to sleep all night. I lay there in the dark, worried you weren't ok. I wanted to check on you, but the logical part of my mind reminded me you were fine and that checking would only wake you up. So I lay there. I slept some, but mostly I waited.
At 6:47, I breathed a sigh of relief as I heard the beginning of your morning chatter. Your Dad went and got you and you were all smiles and giggles as you snuggled in our bed. I sat back, overwhelmed by the love I have for you, my tiny, perfect boy.
Now let's see what we can do about making this a regular occurrence, ok?
I went to bed and woke at 2:00, listening for you. Why, I wonder, when I have hoped so long for you to sleep without waking me, am I waking myself? I found it hard to sleep all night. I lay there in the dark, worried you weren't ok. I wanted to check on you, but the logical part of my mind reminded me you were fine and that checking would only wake you up. So I lay there. I slept some, but mostly I waited.
At 6:47, I breathed a sigh of relief as I heard the beginning of your morning chatter. Your Dad went and got you and you were all smiles and giggles as you snuggled in our bed. I sat back, overwhelmed by the love I have for you, my tiny, perfect boy.
Now let's see what we can do about making this a regular occurrence, ok?
Saturday, November 10, 2012
It's a Miracle
Dear Jack,
I'm sure you've heard the expression "to sleep like a baby". I'm not sure what baby that saying is referring to, but I'm pretty sure it's not you... Unless what that saying means is "to sleep in chunks of two to three hours with nursing in between". Then it might be about you.
Sleep has been a challenge with you from the very beginning. As a newborn, you always wanted to be in someone's arms, or lying right next to someone. As a new mom, I was happy to oblige. I spent hours and hours holding you and watching you sleep, marvelling at how perfect you were. And I completely understood why you'd want to be held -- what newborn wants to be away from the warmth of his parents? But after a while, it got to the point where being held wasn't a just a nice thing -- it was the only thing you would accept. Your dad and I would get you to sleep and try to transfer you to your bassinet, bouncy chair, crib, or even our bed, but the minute you would feel yourself being put down, you would wake crying and we'd have to start the whole process over. So you spent every night sleeping tucked into bed next to me, and every nap and evening sleeping in someone's arms. I still loved to watch you and feel your sleepy body in my arms, but it also made parenting feel pretty relentless at times (like when your dad was working on PlayRites from 8:00 am to midnight and I would hold you. All. Day. Long.)
Besides always wanting to sleep with someone (or maybe because of it), you didn't sleep in long chunks. Ever. Everyone else seemed to have babies who were sleeping longer and longer stretches (if not all night), but you continued to wake to nurse every two hours, sometimes more. Add to that a fun phase where you would be wide awake for hours in the middle of the night, and what you get is two exhausted parents. The sleep deprivation made me feel crazy. I cried. I swore. You seemed not to notice you were causing your mother to lose her mind, and continued to sleep in tiny chunks, never on your own.
By the time we moved to Ottawa, I was completly at a loss about how we were ever going to get you to sleep. I had read books and blogs, googled and experimented, worried and obsessed. Still nothing worked to get you to sleep. I was extremely thankful that we had some extra arms around (arms of people who were still more than happy to hold you) and within a week or two of arriving, I managed to get you to take short naps in a swing we got you. We also started the tradition of grand-papa taking you for a walk every morning so you would fall asleep in your stroller. I loved the tradition (because I got a short break) and he did, too (because he got to show you off to everyone he met).
By the time you were about 7 months old, we were able to put to to sleep at night and then lie you down in the middle of our bed. You would sleep for an hour or so before waking and insisting on being held. It wasn't much, but we were thanful. A month later, I started working on getting you to sleep in your crib (in our room). It only took two or three nights before you seemed ok with the arrangement. We moved the crib to your own room (your uncle Dan's old room) and within a few more days, I could put you down awake and pat you to sleep in the crib. Next, you started to nap in your crib without fuss. It felt like you had given us a huge gift. After more than eight months, your dad and I started to have some time on our own again.
And you've been doing pretty well since then. You go to bed without fuss. You nap well, put yourself to sleep, and are always happy to get into your crib when it's time. You still wake up in the night, though. Some nights it's twice, others it's three, four, five times. Sometimes dad can pat you back to sleep. Other times, only mom (and nursing) will do. Sometimes we let you cry to try to help you to learn how to put yourself back to sleep. We've tried all kinds of things, but no matter what, you still wake up in the night. I try to feel flattered, to think about how much you must adore me to want to see me over and over every night. Mostly, I just feel like a zombie.
But last night, a miracle happened in our house. I put you down to bed at 8:00 (later than usual, since we had been at Mami and Poppi's house). You went down right away, then woke up crying at 10:20. I left you for a few minutes, but you were really, really mad, so I went back up to see you. I rocked you in my arms for a few minutes until you calmed down, then I laid you back in your bed. You whimpered a little, but fell back to sleep. I went to bed too, though I didn't think there was much point, since you would probably be up in half an hour (at most) to nurse.
I fell asleep and woke up at 1:00 when your dad got home. You slept on. I woke at 3:15, when the cat bugged me. You slept on. I woke at 4:25, because my body is used to waking up, I guess. You slept on. I woke at 5:18 to a silent house. I stared at the clock. I listened for you. Nothing. I figured you must have died -- that was the only reasonable explanation for this night. I drifted off.
You cried for me at 6:05, after 7.5 hours without waking and 10 hours without nursing.
A miracle, 14 months in the making.
I got up and walked (un-zombie like) to your room. I opened your door with a little flutter of excitement. I couldn't wait to see your little face and feel your sleepy little body in my arms -- in fourteen months, I had never gone so long without you.
I'm sure you've heard the expression "to sleep like a baby". I'm not sure what baby that saying is referring to, but I'm pretty sure it's not you... Unless what that saying means is "to sleep in chunks of two to three hours with nursing in between". Then it might be about you.
Sleep has been a challenge with you from the very beginning. As a newborn, you always wanted to be in someone's arms, or lying right next to someone. As a new mom, I was happy to oblige. I spent hours and hours holding you and watching you sleep, marvelling at how perfect you were. And I completely understood why you'd want to be held -- what newborn wants to be away from the warmth of his parents? But after a while, it got to the point where being held wasn't a just a nice thing -- it was the only thing you would accept. Your dad and I would get you to sleep and try to transfer you to your bassinet, bouncy chair, crib, or even our bed, but the minute you would feel yourself being put down, you would wake crying and we'd have to start the whole process over. So you spent every night sleeping tucked into bed next to me, and every nap and evening sleeping in someone's arms. I still loved to watch you and feel your sleepy body in my arms, but it also made parenting feel pretty relentless at times (like when your dad was working on PlayRites from 8:00 am to midnight and I would hold you. All. Day. Long.)
Besides always wanting to sleep with someone (or maybe because of it), you didn't sleep in long chunks. Ever. Everyone else seemed to have babies who were sleeping longer and longer stretches (if not all night), but you continued to wake to nurse every two hours, sometimes more. Add to that a fun phase where you would be wide awake for hours in the middle of the night, and what you get is two exhausted parents. The sleep deprivation made me feel crazy. I cried. I swore. You seemed not to notice you were causing your mother to lose her mind, and continued to sleep in tiny chunks, never on your own.
By the time we moved to Ottawa, I was completly at a loss about how we were ever going to get you to sleep. I had read books and blogs, googled and experimented, worried and obsessed. Still nothing worked to get you to sleep. I was extremely thankful that we had some extra arms around (arms of people who were still more than happy to hold you) and within a week or two of arriving, I managed to get you to take short naps in a swing we got you. We also started the tradition of grand-papa taking you for a walk every morning so you would fall asleep in your stroller. I loved the tradition (because I got a short break) and he did, too (because he got to show you off to everyone he met).
By the time you were about 7 months old, we were able to put to to sleep at night and then lie you down in the middle of our bed. You would sleep for an hour or so before waking and insisting on being held. It wasn't much, but we were thanful. A month later, I started working on getting you to sleep in your crib (in our room). It only took two or three nights before you seemed ok with the arrangement. We moved the crib to your own room (your uncle Dan's old room) and within a few more days, I could put you down awake and pat you to sleep in the crib. Next, you started to nap in your crib without fuss. It felt like you had given us a huge gift. After more than eight months, your dad and I started to have some time on our own again.
And you've been doing pretty well since then. You go to bed without fuss. You nap well, put yourself to sleep, and are always happy to get into your crib when it's time. You still wake up in the night, though. Some nights it's twice, others it's three, four, five times. Sometimes dad can pat you back to sleep. Other times, only mom (and nursing) will do. Sometimes we let you cry to try to help you to learn how to put yourself back to sleep. We've tried all kinds of things, but no matter what, you still wake up in the night. I try to feel flattered, to think about how much you must adore me to want to see me over and over every night. Mostly, I just feel like a zombie.
But last night, a miracle happened in our house. I put you down to bed at 8:00 (later than usual, since we had been at Mami and Poppi's house). You went down right away, then woke up crying at 10:20. I left you for a few minutes, but you were really, really mad, so I went back up to see you. I rocked you in my arms for a few minutes until you calmed down, then I laid you back in your bed. You whimpered a little, but fell back to sleep. I went to bed too, though I didn't think there was much point, since you would probably be up in half an hour (at most) to nurse.
I fell asleep and woke up at 1:00 when your dad got home. You slept on. I woke at 3:15, when the cat bugged me. You slept on. I woke at 4:25, because my body is used to waking up, I guess. You slept on. I woke at 5:18 to a silent house. I stared at the clock. I listened for you. Nothing. I figured you must have died -- that was the only reasonable explanation for this night. I drifted off.
You cried for me at 6:05, after 7.5 hours without waking and 10 hours without nursing.
A miracle, 14 months in the making.
I got up and walked (un-zombie like) to your room. I opened your door with a little flutter of excitement. I couldn't wait to see your little face and feel your sleepy little body in my arms -- in fourteen months, I had never gone so long without you.
Saturday, November 3, 2012
Contagion
Well, it took almost fourteen months, but this week you caught your first cold. I've worried a few times before that you were getting sick, but this time it completely snuck up on us. You went to bed a bit late after Sunday night dinner last week, and woke up crying at 10:30. You cried off and on for a lot of the night. When I sent your dad in to get you in the morning, I could hear how stuffed up you were even from across the hall.
Even though you weren't feeling well, your dad and I couldn't believe what a little trooper you were. You played with your ball and hockey stick all day, and just needed a bit of extra cuddling.
Then day two of the cold set in. It was so sad to see you -- all you wanted to do all day was snuggle in my arms on the couch. We watched tv and didn't even make it outside (which probably would have helped you, but I just couldn't figure out how to get us both ready when you felt so miserable). You napped a bunch of times (some of them in your crib, some sprawled across me). Those naps in my arms reminded me of what the first many months of your life were like -- when you refused to sleep anywhere but in someone's arms, on someone's chest, or nestled next to someone in bed. I was so sad for you. I just wanted to be able to make you feel better, or the very least explain to you that this was just a cold and you would be back to normal soon.
For the next few days, you hardly ate anything at all. You played a bit, but mostly moped around and asked to be held and carried a lot.
By today, you seemed to be starting to feel better (minus one cough-until-you-throw-up incident this evening, which (though you might not know this about me) is one of my fears in life. We both survived, with minimal swearing on my part.) Hopefully you will be back to normal tomorrow or the next day. You're such a happy guy that it breaks my heart to watch you feel sick. I know as you grow up there will other bugs you catch, but this first one feels like a hurdle we had to get over. And we're just about there. I don't look forward to other germs that find you, but when they do, just know I'll be there to cuddle you on the couch until you feel better. Unless you think you're going to throw up. In that case, you should probably go see dad.
Even though you weren't feeling well, your dad and I couldn't believe what a little trooper you were. You played with your ball and hockey stick all day, and just needed a bit of extra cuddling.
Then day two of the cold set in. It was so sad to see you -- all you wanted to do all day was snuggle in my arms on the couch. We watched tv and didn't even make it outside (which probably would have helped you, but I just couldn't figure out how to get us both ready when you felt so miserable). You napped a bunch of times (some of them in your crib, some sprawled across me). Those naps in my arms reminded me of what the first many months of your life were like -- when you refused to sleep anywhere but in someone's arms, on someone's chest, or nestled next to someone in bed. I was so sad for you. I just wanted to be able to make you feel better, or the very least explain to you that this was just a cold and you would be back to normal soon.
For the next few days, you hardly ate anything at all. You played a bit, but mostly moped around and asked to be held and carried a lot.
By today, you seemed to be starting to feel better (minus one cough-until-you-throw-up incident this evening, which (though you might not know this about me) is one of my fears in life. We both survived, with minimal swearing on my part.) Hopefully you will be back to normal tomorrow or the next day. You're such a happy guy that it breaks my heart to watch you feel sick. I know as you grow up there will other bugs you catch, but this first one feels like a hurdle we had to get over. And we're just about there. I don't look forward to other germs that find you, but when they do, just know I'll be there to cuddle you on the couch until you feel better. Unless you think you're going to throw up. In that case, you should probably go see dad.
Friday, October 12, 2012
This Boy is Made for Walkin'
Jack-boy,
You have been experimenting with walking for more than a month now. You took your first steps two days before your birthday. I put you down, and you just walked away from me -- I was shocked. Since then, you have only walked a bit. You will sometimes walk from one person to another, or take one or two tentative steps away from a piece of furniture you're holding on to. Not much more than that.
Until yesterday, that is. We had friends over yesterday, and I asked you to show them how well you walked. You took a couple of steps. Then a couple more. And then a few more after that. You looked at me, amazed, like you were thinking "Holy crap, mom! Are you seeing this? I'm walking!"
And that was it. You walked laps around the living room. You pushed your push-toys all around. You tested your new skills over and over, all day. I was as excited as you were, I think. It's so funny to see you -- you walk with your arms stretched straight up in the air, like you're holding on to invisible hands. You're still not completely steady, and you haven't figured out yet how to go straight to standing without pulling yourself up, but I know it will happen any day.
As I watched you today, bobbing and weaving around the living room, I was amazed by how big you are, how much of a little boy you are becoming. I can't wait to see everything that's in store for you, Monkey boy. But, as excited as I am, I still felt a twinge of sadness as I watched you walking right out of babyhood and into being a toddler. Luckily, you still often lurch back to my arms to snuggle, looking exactly like my baby. Reminding me you are still my baby. Telling me, in some ways, you always will be.
You have been experimenting with walking for more than a month now. You took your first steps two days before your birthday. I put you down, and you just walked away from me -- I was shocked. Since then, you have only walked a bit. You will sometimes walk from one person to another, or take one or two tentative steps away from a piece of furniture you're holding on to. Not much more than that.
Until yesterday, that is. We had friends over yesterday, and I asked you to show them how well you walked. You took a couple of steps. Then a couple more. And then a few more after that. You looked at me, amazed, like you were thinking "Holy crap, mom! Are you seeing this? I'm walking!"
And that was it. You walked laps around the living room. You pushed your push-toys all around. You tested your new skills over and over, all day. I was as excited as you were, I think. It's so funny to see you -- you walk with your arms stretched straight up in the air, like you're holding on to invisible hands. You're still not completely steady, and you haven't figured out yet how to go straight to standing without pulling yourself up, but I know it will happen any day.
As I watched you today, bobbing and weaving around the living room, I was amazed by how big you are, how much of a little boy you are becoming. I can't wait to see everything that's in store for you, Monkey boy. But, as excited as I am, I still felt a twinge of sadness as I watched you walking right out of babyhood and into being a toddler. Luckily, you still often lurch back to my arms to snuggle, looking exactly like my baby. Reminding me you are still my baby. Telling me, in some ways, you always will be.
Wednesday, September 19, 2012
I Like to be LOUD
Caveman Jack,
Your dad and I are still wondering if you'll ever learn to talk. You make new sounds all the time (and still make our favourite lek-a-lek-a-lek when you have a soother in your mouth) but you don't seem much closer to saying actual words. And yet, everyday you are more and more interested in communicating.
Often, I know what you want (not that I can always give it to you). Sometimes I have no idea. Obviously, this gets very frustrating for you -- which leads to growling, crying, going spineless, and, most notably (today), shrieking.
Yes, today you found your LOUD voice. And you used it. All. Day. Long. You shrieked about everything today, both good and bad. Part of the problem with that is, while it's totally annoying, it's also pretty funny. At least to a point. But obviously my laughing doesn't make the situation any better, so as a result of you knowing/thinking you were being funny, I had a VERY LOUD day. By dinner time, it wasn't so funny anymore.
So, my little caveman, it would be great if you could figure out a few words. Please. Because Mamma's eardrums are bleeding.
Your dad and I are still wondering if you'll ever learn to talk. You make new sounds all the time (and still make our favourite lek-a-lek-a-lek when you have a soother in your mouth) but you don't seem much closer to saying actual words. And yet, everyday you are more and more interested in communicating.
Often, I know what you want (not that I can always give it to you). Sometimes I have no idea. Obviously, this gets very frustrating for you -- which leads to growling, crying, going spineless, and, most notably (today), shrieking.
Yes, today you found your LOUD voice. And you used it. All. Day. Long. You shrieked about everything today, both good and bad. Part of the problem with that is, while it's totally annoying, it's also pretty funny. At least to a point. But obviously my laughing doesn't make the situation any better, so as a result of you knowing/thinking you were being funny, I had a VERY LOUD day. By dinner time, it wasn't so funny anymore.
So, my little caveman, it would be great if you could figure out a few words. Please. Because Mamma's eardrums are bleeding.
Friday, September 7, 2012
To Jack, On Your First Birthday
Dear Jack,
I know I've said it before, but I'm as shocked as always to find you are another month older. This time, though, you're not just a month older. Today you reached the milestone of turning one. A year ago today, we were meeting you for the very first time. Today, you fill every moment of our days.
And when I say fill, I mean it. You are a boy on the move from the moment you wake up. It can be hard to keep up with you -- you are one fast crawler! Just a couple of days before your birthday, you took your first steps. You have wanted to walk for so long, have insisted we hold your hands and help you get from place to place. You're still unsteady and a bit unsure, but I can see how proud you are of yourself. I know it will only be a short time until you are running.
Every day with you is a reminder that, while your dad and I will always help guide you through life, you are your own little person, and that's how you came to us. Every day, we get to watch more and more of your personality emerge. You love balls and balloons and anything you can throw. You love to steal toothbrushes. You do not like being told you can't do something or have something you want and you make your frustration known. You are a keen observer and take everything and everyone in. It takes you a while to warm up to people, but everyone you meet is captivated by you. How could they not be?
You love your house, especially playing on the back deck and upstairs. I think the upstairs of the house might be your favourite place in the world, which I think has partially to do with one of your other favourite things: Spookie. You love that little black cat, and despite the fact you are not always gentle with her, she seems to love you, too. Anytime you are sad, just whispering "Where's Spookie?" in your ear brings the biggest grin to your face. Today, you crawled up to her very slowly and put your face right by hers. She reached her head up and sniffed the tip of your nose. You giggled the sweetest, softest baby giggle and looked at me as though your life was complete.
We had a party for you on the weekend. I wasn't sure what you would think of being the guest of honour at a party, since too many people and too much going on still overwhelms you. But you seemed to understand everyone was here for you and were so happy the whole time. You especially loved that your dad had filled your little pool with all the balls he could find. It was like you were sitting in a little piece of heaven. Seeing your joy couldn't have made me happier.
Last night, your dad and I spent a long talking about the time leading up to, and just after, your birth. It is the most intense experience either of us has ever been through, and knowing that it was already a year ago is hard to believe. But in another way, most of the time, I can hardly remember what my life felt like before you arrived.
I am amazed every day to see the little boy my baby is turning into. And even though I love watching you learn and grow, I also love having you crawl up into my lap and lie in my arms like the baby you were, and in many ways, still are. I understand now why everyone warns new parents of how quickly time passes.
Happy birthday, sweet boy. I can only imagine what this next year holds for you.
I know I've said it before, but I'm as shocked as always to find you are another month older. This time, though, you're not just a month older. Today you reached the milestone of turning one. A year ago today, we were meeting you for the very first time. Today, you fill every moment of our days.
And when I say fill, I mean it. You are a boy on the move from the moment you wake up. It can be hard to keep up with you -- you are one fast crawler! Just a couple of days before your birthday, you took your first steps. You have wanted to walk for so long, have insisted we hold your hands and help you get from place to place. You're still unsteady and a bit unsure, but I can see how proud you are of yourself. I know it will only be a short time until you are running.
Every day with you is a reminder that, while your dad and I will always help guide you through life, you are your own little person, and that's how you came to us. Every day, we get to watch more and more of your personality emerge. You love balls and balloons and anything you can throw. You love to steal toothbrushes. You do not like being told you can't do something or have something you want and you make your frustration known. You are a keen observer and take everything and everyone in. It takes you a while to warm up to people, but everyone you meet is captivated by you. How could they not be?
You love your house, especially playing on the back deck and upstairs. I think the upstairs of the house might be your favourite place in the world, which I think has partially to do with one of your other favourite things: Spookie. You love that little black cat, and despite the fact you are not always gentle with her, she seems to love you, too. Anytime you are sad, just whispering "Where's Spookie?" in your ear brings the biggest grin to your face. Today, you crawled up to her very slowly and put your face right by hers. She reached her head up and sniffed the tip of your nose. You giggled the sweetest, softest baby giggle and looked at me as though your life was complete.
We had a party for you on the weekend. I wasn't sure what you would think of being the guest of honour at a party, since too many people and too much going on still overwhelms you. But you seemed to understand everyone was here for you and were so happy the whole time. You especially loved that your dad had filled your little pool with all the balls he could find. It was like you were sitting in a little piece of heaven. Seeing your joy couldn't have made me happier.
Last night, your dad and I spent a long talking about the time leading up to, and just after, your birth. It is the most intense experience either of us has ever been through, and knowing that it was already a year ago is hard to believe. But in another way, most of the time, I can hardly remember what my life felt like before you arrived.
I am amazed every day to see the little boy my baby is turning into. And even though I love watching you learn and grow, I also love having you crawl up into my lap and lie in my arms like the baby you were, and in many ways, still are. I understand now why everyone warns new parents of how quickly time passes.
Happy birthday, sweet boy. I can only imagine what this next year holds for you.
Sept 6, 2011
Sept 6, 2012
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