Friday, September 08, 2006
Isaiah has teeth!! Two teeth, to be more precise. Two sweet, adorable little teeth on the bottom, sharpened and ready to bite. I would love to include a picture of Isaiah with his two cute little teeth, but apparently his teeth (unlike the rest him) are camera shy. In fact, it took a whole day and countless tries for us to be able to see them after we were able to feel them with our fingers. On Thursday, August 31st, Michael was holding Isaiah in the evening and decided to massage his gums because that sometimes helps with fussiness in teething babies. Then, he called me in because he could feel the sharp little bumps of a tooth poking through. We tried so many times to look into his little mouth, and to feel his gums with our fingers. Looking back, I realize that all the poking and prodding was a bit of an invasion on his privacy, but we were so excited we couldn't help it. Isaiah refused to let us see them that night, though. He didn't want to open his mouth unless it was for a pear-juice-popsicle, and even then, he covered his lower gum with his tongue. So, we were out of luck until the next day when we tricked him into letting us open his mouth for a split second or two.
He really was a very happy baby all throughout this teething experience. He didn't have sleeping problems or any excess crying or a fever or anything. I don't know why so many parents insisted on telling me stories of unimaginable horror. Some parents really relish frightening younger parents with awful stories of screaming babies and unmanagable toddlers. I know that many parents have had difficult experiences in the past, and I truly do sympathize, but to see the glee on some veteran parents' faces as they describe with gory detail what is sure to come your way is rather unsettling. "Just you wait," they say with maniacle grins, "until he talks back to you." Or, "just wait until the terrible twos," or "the nightmare of potty training." (I really depressed that storyteller when I informed her that I was already potty training Isaiah, and that it was going just fine.) According to these parents, there will always be some horror beyond horrors waiting for me when it comes to parenting, no matter how old Isaiah is. "Wait until preschool, when he'll learn swear words on the bus." "Just wait until middle school, when he will be embarassed by the very sight of you." "Wait until he's a teenager and gets caught up in sex, drugs, and rock n' roll." Unfortunately for these doom-bearing parents, I'm not afraid of the future years with my little boy. Maybe Isaiah will swear like a sailor when he's 6, cease talking for three years when he's 12, and pierce every available body part when he's 17. Then again, maybe he won't. Either way, I love my little Isaiah, so bring it on.
We had a wonderful Labor Day weekend with my family. It was, of course, too short of a visit, but still a lot of fun. It's always so beautiful to see my parents and Andy doting on Isaiah. It's also a good reminder to me of how precious he is, because they marvel at the things I have gotten used to, like rolling over and sitting up. I'm very glad Isaiah is so confortable with them, too. We didn't have any trouble with him being nervous or shy - he knew they were his family right away. I know Isaiah will go through separation and stranger anxiety sometime, but he's such a little people person, it's difficult to imagine right now.
Also this last week, we were able to see the Walzes during one of our trips to the Minnesota State Fair. For those of you who haven't partaken of the state fair, it's sort of our version of Mardi Gras. The big difference is that in Minnesota, most people are good, midwestern Lutherans, and they only wild side of Mardi Gras they do is the eating. So, basically, it's a gigantic eating festival with every imaginable thing fried and put on a stick and a few side attractions such as art and carnival rides. I was carrying Isaiah around in the sling when I decided to get a turky drumstick from a vendor, and I was only two bites into it when I realized there was no way Isaiah was going to let me have it all to myself. I let him gum the meat (this was actually pre-teeth,) and he really seemed to love it. We didn't have a camera, which was a bad move on our part, but we got a cute picture on a cell phone camera.
Isaiah enjoys gnawing on almost anything he can get to his mouth, but nothing more than his toes. "Oh toes!" Isaiah's big bright eyes exclaim each time he sees them, and into his mouth they go. It doesn't matter where he is or what he's doing; when he sees his toes, it's the only thing on his mind. Whenever he sits on the toilet, I have to hold him steady with one hand because otherwise he would topple head-first onto the tile floor in an attempt to eat his toes. When we're in the car and I hear grunts coming from the back seat, rest assured Isaiah has manuvered himself with Gumby-like capability to defy the 'five point harness system' of the state-of-the-art carseat and get his toes into his mouth. At least he has ten toys he will never misplace now.
A list of the things Isaiah likes (and doesn't like) to eat will show his unpredictable, descriminating tastes:
Milk - good
Juice - good
Banana - bad
Avacado - good
Turky leg - good
Peas - bad
Toes - good
Plums - good
Corn - bad
Soap from the bathtub that I can't get out of his reach quickly enough - good
Pears - good
Green beans - good
Carrots - good, then boring, then bad
Infant cereal - good
Infant cereal mixed with applesauce and a little cinnamon - very good
Pickles - good
Fudgsicle - bad
Nectarine - good
At least the good outnumbers the bad right now. I still haven't figured out how soap tastes better than the peas I keep trying to feed him, though. Oh well.