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
Saturday, August 25, 2012
Dinner Theatre
A couple of days ago, we had your Nana, Grand-papa and Uncle Dan over for dinner. We were eating outside so that you would be able to crawl around on the deck once you were done eating. You love the back deck, and I think one of the reasons is your little inflatable pool. It doesn't even seem to matter whether there's water in it.
Grand-papa had leaned your pool up against the gate on the deck. Of course, as soon as you got out of your high chair, you headed straight for your pool. The next thing we knew, the pool was floating across the deck, seemingly on its own. You had managed to pull it down on top of yourself and were crawling toward us underneath it.
We all lost it. You didn't seem all that concerned about having a pool on top of you, and (like I've said before) you do love to make people laugh, so you just kept on crawling. And of course, no one had a camera.
I don't know if you'll share my love of circus, but if you do, it's looking like you could have quite a successful career as a clown.
Grand-papa had leaned your pool up against the gate on the deck. Of course, as soon as you got out of your high chair, you headed straight for your pool. The next thing we knew, the pool was floating across the deck, seemingly on its own. You had managed to pull it down on top of yourself and were crawling toward us underneath it.
We all lost it. You didn't seem all that concerned about having a pool on top of you, and (like I've said before) you do love to make people laugh, so you just kept on crawling. And of course, no one had a camera.
I don't know if you'll share my love of circus, but if you do, it's looking like you could have quite a successful career as a clown.
Saturday, August 4, 2012
Playing Catch Up
You are only a few days away from being 11 months old, and I can't believe the time has gone so fast. Yesterday, I was thinking about how much you've changed in the time since we moved to Ottawa. You've learned to sit, roll from your back to your tummy, go from lying to sitting, commando crawl, crawl on your knees, walk holding someone's hands, and pull yourself up. On everything.
You are a boy who loves to move. You're on the go all day - from the time you wake up, until the time I wrestle you into your pyjamas at night. I love to see you exploring your world, but it's also a full-time and exhausting job. You seem to have no fear about anything, which is more than a little terrifying for me. You want to climb the stairs and then go back down (head first). You want to stand up in the bathtub. You use furniture to pull yourself up, and then let go when something in a different direction catches your eye, as though you don't seem to remember you can't walk yet.
You love playing with balls. Yesterday, seemingly out of nowhere, you walked (holding my hands) up to a volleyball, lifted your little foot, and kicked it. I wondered if it was fluke until you did it again. And again.
Your dad was saying tonight he's noticed recently you definitely have your own ideas about what you want to do, and you get mad when we won't (or can't) let you. Forget what they say about babies being distractable. When you're on a mission, it's pretty hard to convince you that anything else is a good idea.
You know when you're being funny and love to make people laugh. You grin at people now, even strangers (who you used to just look at suspiciously), and definitely flirt with any and all female lifeguards. You crack me up all the time.
Even though it's hard to keep up with you, every day is such a good reminder about how we learn by doing, how much there is to discover all around us, and how great it is to be present in the moment.
You are a boy who loves to move. You're on the go all day - from the time you wake up, until the time I wrestle you into your pyjamas at night. I love to see you exploring your world, but it's also a full-time and exhausting job. You seem to have no fear about anything, which is more than a little terrifying for me. You want to climb the stairs and then go back down (head first). You want to stand up in the bathtub. You use furniture to pull yourself up, and then let go when something in a different direction catches your eye, as though you don't seem to remember you can't walk yet.
You love playing with balls. Yesterday, seemingly out of nowhere, you walked (holding my hands) up to a volleyball, lifted your little foot, and kicked it. I wondered if it was fluke until you did it again. And again.
Your dad was saying tonight he's noticed recently you definitely have your own ideas about what you want to do, and you get mad when we won't (or can't) let you. Forget what they say about babies being distractable. When you're on a mission, it's pretty hard to convince you that anything else is a good idea.
You know when you're being funny and love to make people laugh. You grin at people now, even strangers (who you used to just look at suspiciously), and definitely flirt with any and all female lifeguards. You crack me up all the time.
Even though it's hard to keep up with you, every day is such a good reminder about how we learn by doing, how much there is to discover all around us, and how great it is to be present in the moment.
Sunday, July 15, 2012
Making Plans
It has taken a long time for you to have a predictable schedule. Maybe that's true with all babies; I don't know. At ten months (ten months already!), you take a couple of naps a day, eat your three meals, and play in between. All of these things happen at about the same time every day.
Unless I make plans.
I always say there's no point in making plans. Your baby knows your plans, and he thinks they're stupid. He's got better plans.
I never know for sure what your days will be like, but if I make plans that take into consideration the normal time you do things (like wake up in the morning or take a nap), you will change your daily schedule, almost without fail. Instead of napping for an hour, you'll nap for two. Instead of waking up at 6:30, you'll wake up at 7:30. Classic.
It's not as though I discuss all plans with you ahead of time, but you still know. Maybe you're psychic.
Unless I make plans.
I always say there's no point in making plans. Your baby knows your plans, and he thinks they're stupid. He's got better plans.
I never know for sure what your days will be like, but if I make plans that take into consideration the normal time you do things (like wake up in the morning or take a nap), you will change your daily schedule, almost without fail. Instead of napping for an hour, you'll nap for two. Instead of waking up at 6:30, you'll wake up at 7:30. Classic.
It's not as though I discuss all plans with you ahead of time, but you still know. Maybe you're psychic.
Tuesday, July 3, 2012
Isn't that funny
Dear Jack,
These days, you are so funny. It's like we're watching more and more of your personality emerge every day. I've always thought it was amazing that one of the early things a baby develops is a sense of humour. How great is that?Well, sense of humour you've got. Even at nine months, you know when you're being funny (and have for some time) and you love to make people laugh. Here are some of your favourites these days:
Running man: if we hold you up and away from our bodies, you kick your little legs like you're running. You've also just added shaking your head back and forth while you run. You laugh the whole time. You've also started doing it anytime you want to show you're excited to see someone.
Mmmmmmmmmm: you love food. All food. But when something is especially good (or when we ask you if something is good), you say "mmmmmmmm" with your voice bouncing like a little goat. Everyone always laughs when they hear it. This makes you do it more.
Blowing raspberries: if anyone makes a sound even sort of like a raspberry, you make one too. Except yours are really spit-y.
Gasping: these days, you like to be the centre of attention (at least when you're with people you know). When you notice people are paying attention to something that isn't you, you make a sound sort of like a gasp and laugh combined. If people look at you (or better, laugh) you do it again and again.
I could add more and more to the list; there are new ones every day. You can be frustrating at times, but man, are you funny.
These days, you are so funny. It's like we're watching more and more of your personality emerge every day. I've always thought it was amazing that one of the early things a baby develops is a sense of humour. How great is that?Well, sense of humour you've got. Even at nine months, you know when you're being funny (and have for some time) and you love to make people laugh. Here are some of your favourites these days:
Running man: if we hold you up and away from our bodies, you kick your little legs like you're running. You've also just added shaking your head back and forth while you run. You laugh the whole time. You've also started doing it anytime you want to show you're excited to see someone.
Mmmmmmmmmm: you love food. All food. But when something is especially good (or when we ask you if something is good), you say "mmmmmmmm" with your voice bouncing like a little goat. Everyone always laughs when they hear it. This makes you do it more.
Blowing raspberries: if anyone makes a sound even sort of like a raspberry, you make one too. Except yours are really spit-y.
Gasping: these days, you like to be the centre of attention (at least when you're with people you know). When you notice people are paying attention to something that isn't you, you make a sound sort of like a gasp and laugh combined. If people look at you (or better, laugh) you do it again and again.
I could add more and more to the list; there are new ones every day. You can be frustrating at times, but man, are you funny.
Friday, June 29, 2012
A First Letter
Dear Jack,
I have been wanting to write you a series of letters for so long. I spend all day talking to you as though you understand every word I say, but really, even if you do, I know you won't remember all the things we talk about. So instead, I'd like to give you a collection of letters to look back on someday to see what your babyhood has been like. I'll do my best, anyway.
Happy reading, baby.
I have been wanting to write you a series of letters for so long. I spend all day talking to you as though you understand every word I say, but really, even if you do, I know you won't remember all the things we talk about. So instead, I'd like to give you a collection of letters to look back on someday to see what your babyhood has been like. I'll do my best, anyway.
Happy reading, baby.
A Minor Change
First of all, (if anyone still reads this....) you may notice I've changed the name of the blog. I'm sure I'm just sending out and open invitation to the universe, but since our lives have become less about change and more about enjoying how things are now, I thought the blog needed a new title to reflect that.
I don't find a lot of time to write (or maybe I just don't make a lot of time for it), but more often than not, what I'm tempted to write are letters to Jack. I know he won't remember his babyhood, but I would like him to know some of what his life has been like so far, and letters seem like a good way to do that.
We've been in Ottawa for just over three months now and we're feeling mostly settled, though we are VERY excited to take possession of our own house at the beginning of July. More details on that soon! So, on with the new blog. We'll see if I do a better job getting to it more than once a month...
I don't find a lot of time to write (or maybe I just don't make a lot of time for it), but more often than not, what I'm tempted to write are letters to Jack. I know he won't remember his babyhood, but I would like him to know some of what his life has been like so far, and letters seem like a good way to do that.
We've been in Ottawa for just over three months now and we're feeling mostly settled, though we are VERY excited to take possession of our own house at the beginning of July. More details on that soon! So, on with the new blog. We'll see if I do a better job getting to it more than once a month...
Monday, April 9, 2012
Called Home
With Easter last weekend, we celebrated our first holiday back in Ottawa. Walking outside and seeing so many families out enjoying the weather reminded me of how much I loved this four day weekend as a child. It felt like a gift -- a double weekend meant for enjoying family and the beginning of spring.
This year, while Easter weekend still brought sunshine and time with family, it brought sadness too.
The weekend started with sad news from Calgary. I know there are times when there is nothing that can be said or done to make a situation better, but that didn't stop me from wishing I could be there, to give support from nearby instead of across the country.
Our second piece of sad news served as a major reminder of one of the reasons we knew we needed to be home: you just never know how long you have with the people you love. Sunday night, we lost my aunt to cancer. Her battle was short, beginning with a nagging cough at Christmas which turned out to be a lung tumor, and ending last Sunday, with her family surrounding her. She was the wife of my father's youngest brother, a sweet, gentle man we lost almost four years ago, months before we moved to Calgary. Elaine and my uncle Moe were childhood sweethearts, together from the time they were 12.
The progression of her illness was unbelievably quick, and her death has been a shock to everyone. It has also affirmed for me, once again, that we have made the right choice. My heart aches for my cousins who have now lost both their parents, and for their children, who will grow up without their grandparents. I am grateful for two things, though: that I am able to be here to show support, and that there is some solace knowing two childhood sweethearts have been reunited.
This year, while Easter weekend still brought sunshine and time with family, it brought sadness too.
The weekend started with sad news from Calgary. I know there are times when there is nothing that can be said or done to make a situation better, but that didn't stop me from wishing I could be there, to give support from nearby instead of across the country.
Our second piece of sad news served as a major reminder of one of the reasons we knew we needed to be home: you just never know how long you have with the people you love. Sunday night, we lost my aunt to cancer. Her battle was short, beginning with a nagging cough at Christmas which turned out to be a lung tumor, and ending last Sunday, with her family surrounding her. She was the wife of my father's youngest brother, a sweet, gentle man we lost almost four years ago, months before we moved to Calgary. Elaine and my uncle Moe were childhood sweethearts, together from the time they were 12.
The progression of her illness was unbelievably quick, and her death has been a shock to everyone. It has also affirmed for me, once again, that we have made the right choice. My heart aches for my cousins who have now lost both their parents, and for their children, who will grow up without their grandparents. I am grateful for two things, though: that I am able to be here to show support, and that there is some solace knowing two childhood sweethearts have been reunited.
Saturday, April 7, 2012
Before and After
Once the date of our move was confirmed, my life felt divided into Before March 14 and After March 14. I spent much of March with a sort of permanent lump in my throat, knowing each time I did something or visited with someone, it would be a Calgary last. Leaving Calgary was as hard as I knew it would be, and while my heart is filled everyday as I watched Jack and all his family fall in love with each other, it doesn't take away the sudden moments of homesickness for everyone and everything we've left behind.
It's hard to believe March is already over and we've been in Ottawa for more than three weeks. Jahn has started work, we're settling into a routine, and Jack is growing by leaps and bounds. When I named this blog, I had no idea how appropriate the title would be for describing life with a baby. Everyday brings something new with Jack. One day he's lying flat on his back, the next, he discovers his toes and holds on to them non-stop, turning himself from a line into a dot. He's made some big changes in the few short weeks we've been here: he sits on his own (though, as Jahn said, "I wouldn't sit Humpty on a wall quite yet"), he has developed a love of food (especially things he shouldn't have ...yes chocolate croissant, I'm looking at you) and, most miraculously, he will now go to bed NOT in someone's arms. I love my son, but being able to spend the evening as an adult without a baby in my arms has been amazing. Now we just have to get him sleeping longer at night.
Jahn and I have also started the house hunt. Details to follow...
It's hard to believe March is already over and we've been in Ottawa for more than three weeks. Jahn has started work, we're settling into a routine, and Jack is growing by leaps and bounds. When I named this blog, I had no idea how appropriate the title would be for describing life with a baby. Everyday brings something new with Jack. One day he's lying flat on his back, the next, he discovers his toes and holds on to them non-stop, turning himself from a line into a dot. He's made some big changes in the few short weeks we've been here: he sits on his own (though, as Jahn said, "I wouldn't sit Humpty on a wall quite yet"), he has developed a love of food (especially things he shouldn't have ...yes chocolate croissant, I'm looking at you) and, most miraculously, he will now go to bed NOT in someone's arms. I love my son, but being able to spend the evening as an adult without a baby in my arms has been amazing. Now we just have to get him sleeping longer at night.
Jahn and I have also started the house hunt. Details to follow...
Saturday, February 25, 2012
The Wild Wild West
Top 5 Reasons Calgary has been wonderful to (and for) us
Adventure
While it was a lot to take in at the time, there was also something very exciting about the adventure of moving right after our wedding to start life on our own. It felt like a bit of a throw-back to another era. At the same time, I'm so glad we had the forethought to realize the best (and easiest) time to move away and start over was then. It would have been easier to stay in Ottawa, but I'm so glad we made the choice we did. It was an adventure we took on together and it made us a stronger and more connected couple.
But the top reasons?
The People
Work
The main reason we came to Calgary in the first place is that Jahn and I both found work in our fields. With the differences between Ontario and Alberta in the job market, not only did we both find jobs, but we were lucky enough to find jobs that most likely wouldn't have been available to us (or, really, people our age) at home. Being here has given us experience (and I'd say in turn confidence) that we wouldn't have had the chance to get in Ottawa for many more years. We took on big responsibilities and it's been exciting. And along the way, we got the chance to work with great people.
Adventure
While it was a lot to take in at the time, there was also something very exciting about the adventure of moving right after our wedding to start life on our own. It felt like a bit of a throw-back to another era. At the same time, I'm so glad we had the forethought to realize the best (and easiest) time to move away and start over was then. It would have been easier to stay in Ottawa, but I'm so glad we made the choice we did. It was an adventure we took on together and it made us a stronger and more connected couple.
Stay-cations
Since we never planned to stay out west, Jahn and I have hit up as many Alberta attractions as possible. We've done everything from National Parks to World Heritage Sites to small towns and in-town tourist attractions. It's great that everything is so close to Calgary -- we visited most of these places on day or weekend trips -- which is definitely a novelty when you come from Ontario. For me, making sure to see as much of Alberta as we could helps me feel like we've really made the most of our time in our adopted province.
But the top reasons?
Location, location, location
The license plates in British Columbia say "The Best Place on Earth". I'm not sure they're wrong. Living in Calgary has not only given us the chance to explore Alberta, but also a chance to spend time in BC. When we were in Ottawa, the Rockies always felt so far (ok, they were far) and unreachable. But being here has given us the chance explore the Rockies a little and it's been amazing. The other beautiful opportunity being near BC has given us is the chance to spend time with my pretty amazing sister and her beautiful family in the Kootenays. There's a big age gap between us, so while she's always been part of my life, being here has given me a chance to get to know her in a different way and so I'm grateful. Knowing we won't be a day's drive from them anymore has been one of the saddest parts of moving.
The People
The worst part of moving -- hard to know where to start. How do you thank the people who have made up your family-away-from-family? We have been blessed to find so many wonderful people who have filled our time in Calgary with laughter and friendship. People have included us in their lives, their celebrations and their families so warmly we've never had to feel lonely. I couldn't have anticipated how many wonderful friends we would find here or how hard it would be to leave them. Thank you all so much; I'm not sure you'll ever know how much your friendship means to us.
Wednesday, February 15, 2012
One Month To Go
Before Jack was born, someone said to Jahn that while at times with a baby the days feel long, the weeks and months are short. It's so true. Last year on this day, I had my first real bout of throwing up from morning sickness (too much information?). One year later, I'm sitting here as my smiley, chatty, five-month-old snoozes. Hard to believe what a difference a year can make.
It's not only years that make the difference. One month from today, Jack and I will be getting on a plane and flying to Ottawa to start our new life there (Jahn will be a few days behind us in the car). When we made this decision in November, I knew how fast it would happen. Though some of the days have felt long, the months have passed in the blink of an eye and now we're into the final countdown. Hard to believe things that are now so routine are going to become things we can't do anymore, things that were part of our old life. I've started to have "lasts" of things, like our last trip to the mountains. I recognize those when they happen, but mostly I try not to think about them too much.
I'm so thankful for everything our life here has given us, and I know how much we'll miss it. So I plan to spend the next month enjoying it all, because I know how quickly it will be gone.
It's not only years that make the difference. One month from today, Jack and I will be getting on a plane and flying to Ottawa to start our new life there (Jahn will be a few days behind us in the car). When we made this decision in November, I knew how fast it would happen. Though some of the days have felt long, the months have passed in the blink of an eye and now we're into the final countdown. Hard to believe things that are now so routine are going to become things we can't do anymore, things that were part of our old life. I've started to have "lasts" of things, like our last trip to the mountains. I recognize those when they happen, but mostly I try not to think about them too much.
I'm so thankful for everything our life here has given us, and I know how much we'll miss it. So I plan to spend the next month enjoying it all, because I know how quickly it will be gone.
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