Growing up with Isaiah and Melora

To "air" is human...

2009-07-05T19:47:00.000-07:00

We've been enjoying beautiful summer evenings with minimal bugs and minimal humidity thanks to afternoon rain showers almost daily. So we've celebrated in style by eating dinner outside quite often. Michael grills while the kids play in the yard and I cook veggies or prepare a salad inside, then we all gather around our outside table under the shade of our maple tree and eat and laugh and make lots of messes that I won't have to vacuum because we're outside!

Last night we were enjoying corn on the cob and grilled chicken outside when Isaiah suddenly announced. "Hey guys, my bum just blowed some air." Michael and I were sadly unsurprised by this topic of conversation, as bodily functions are unfortunately common dinnertable discussion in our house.
"So," Michael asked rather rhetorically, "did you toot?"
"No." Isaiah replied, "I just aired."
Oh Isaiah - you practically write my blogs for me!

Melora is especially content during outside dinners. She seems to fully understand the concept that when you are outside, you can throw unwanted food on the ground. Actually, she does that inside too, so it may just be a bad habit. She also seems to love all outside food too, though. She loves grilled chicken and steak, and she loves grilled or fresh veggies. She has recently discovered the joys of corn on the cob, and for only having six teeth, she's become quite adept at eating it as well. She happily signs "more" and "please" until she is so full of good food that she smiles and signs "all done." She babbles to us and to herself constantly, and she's endlessly entertained by blowing spit bubbles and organizing her crumbs into little groups. She also likes to feed the rest of us whatever she's eating, and her favorite person to feed is, of course, Isaiah.

In fact, I think her favorite person to do anything with is Isaiah. Melora usually wakes up first, and when Isaiah finally pokes his disheveled little head around the staircase, she shrieks with delight and gives him the biggest, cheesiest grin she can fit onto her little face. So often in the car, I look back to the middle row to see her gazing at her brother with a sappy, sweet look of love on her face. And Isaiah loves her right back. He shares with her and reads to her, and if I'm ever neglecting my duty to her in any way, he lets me know that she needs milk or food or to be carried. Earlier today, I was trying to get Melora to take her morning nap (which she seems to think she doesn't need anymore.) I had patiently laid with her as she finished a warm, soothing bottle, but I realized that my presence wasn't helping her relax. So I put her in her bed and left the room. She began crying and crying while I did laundry, hoping that she would cry out her excess energy and get the rest she needed. Quite suddenly, her cries quieted, and I thought that she actually had fallen asleep. A minute later, though, Michael realized that Isaiah, unable to stand his sister being sad, had crawled into bed with her and given her a dolly to play with. We couldn't think of a single reason to reprimand his act of loving kindness.

Apples Make You Happy

2009-06-22T20:19:00.000-07:00

Sometimes, as a parent, it feels as though I'm doing so much wrong. Earlier today I was watching Andrew, and he woke up from a nap with a fever of nearly 105 degrees. I called his mom and then tried to reduce his fever by giving him some Tylenol and a sponge bath (which he hated, poor baby!) I was so tied up with Andrew and worried about his fever that my own kids were just on their own for a while. During that short amount of time, Isaiah dumped paint on the kitchen floor and Melora flushed a pair of my earrings down the toilet. I didn't even know Melora was able to flush the toilet!

After Andrew's mom had picked him up and I had put my kids down for their naps and mopped the kitchen floor, I sat on the couch and just stared ahead of me. Surely I could have handled that better. Most moms would have handled it better; wouldn't pretty-much anything be better than that? But my kids are safe...and loved...and blessed. So if I don't have that particular pair of earrings (that I hardly wear anyway) and if my kitchen floor is a little more blue than before (under all the footprints and food spills) I guess the trade works out alright.

Other times, I feel that as a parent I must be doing something right. I was reading Isaiah his bedtime stories, and we decided to read The Giving Tree by Shel Silverstein. We had already read the part about how the tree loved a little boy and let him eat her apples and swing on her branches and rest in her shade. Then the boy stayed away for a long time, and when he came back he said he was too big to climb and play...
"I want to buy things and have fun.
I want some money.
Can you give me some money?"
"I'm sorry," said the tree, "but I have no money.
I have only leaves and apples.
Take my apples, Boy, and sell them
in the city. Then you will have money
and you will be happy."
And so the boy climbed up the tree
and gathered her apples
and carried them away...
"Mama?"
"Yeah, sweetie?"
"Why did the boy carry away the tree's apples?"
"Well, he wanted to trade them for some money, because he thought money would make him happy."
"Did the money make him happy?"
"No, baby. I don't think so. When you get some money, you just use it to buy stuff and then it's all gone."
"Oh. So money doesn't make you happy."
"That's right, baby."
Isaiah paused and considered,
"But apples do."

The Ninja and The Nut

2009-04-23T19:25:00.000-07:00

I've recently discovered a few things about Melora that should have been obvious to me a long time ago. First, I discovered that she is really smart. Really. I know that I'm totally biased because I'm her mom, but please trust me. She was "racing" Isaiah up and down the hall yesterday (which is a game Isaiah loves to play because Melora is such a gracious and consistent loser,) when she found an old pacifier lodged in a basket. She apparently thought it would be funny to pop it into her mouth, since she no longer has any interest in sucking on a pacifier whatsoever. So she put it in a laughed at her own joke and continued racing. Then a minute later she abruptly veered off the racecourse and headed into Isaiah's room. She crawled straight around a corner and picked up a clam shell-style sunglasses case she must have remembered was there. Then she worked for about two minutes straight until her little fingers had pried it open, dropped the pacifier inside the case, and went right back to racing Isaiah. Huh.

The second thing I discovered yesterday was the Melora is actually a ninja. A tiny, cute, very powerful ninja. I was changing her diaper when she whipped her leg around and flipped herself onto her tummy in the blink of an eye. And like a shot, she was off and crawling her poopy little butt away, giggling to herself. When I caught her and brought her back to the changing mat, I had to pin her down with my legs while I used one hand to hold her ankles and the other to put a new diaper on. It took 10 minutes to finish the job, and somewhere in there I realized that a 20 pound baby girl should not be a match for me.

The third thing I discovered was actually the logical conclusion of the first two epiphanies. Melora is really smart, and also a ninja. Therefore, Michael and I are in major trouble.

Earlier this week, I let Isaiah have an ice cream cone for eating such a good lunch. Soon after I gave it to him, it became apparent that Melora's diaper was emiting foul odors. So I left him to his ice cream and went to change Melora into something more fresh. After I had put her into a new diaper (a great feat, if you remember that she is a ninja with a funny sense of humor) I went into the bathroom to clean it out, and I let her crawl away. After a few minutes of spraying the diaper into the toilet (with this super-awesome diaper sprayer!!) I heard some repeated banging coming from the kitchen, as though a drawer were being repeatedly opened and slammed shut again.

"Isaiah, what's going on in there?"
"It's okay, Mama. I'm cleaning it up."
Cleaning it up? Cleaning what up? Do I even want to know? My hands are too poopy right now to actually do anything about it. What would I do anyway?
"Um, thanks for cleaning sweetie."

A few minutes later I came in with freshly washed hands to see what the damage was, and I found half an ice cream cone in the middle of the kitchen floor, covered with every single kitchen towel I own. Isaiah was smiling the sweetest smile as he told me that he had shared his ice cream cone with Melora, and then cleaned it up when she dropped it. So I hugged him and thanked him for being such a sweet brother and such a wonderful helper. He beamed.

My favorite new thing Isaiah does now is muse about God. When he went to the bathroom one morning, he declared, "God turned my pee on." And when we were learning about planets, he said, "God made Earth nice so all the robots could live here." More than once he has told me that he did something scary, but it was okay because God was keeping him safe. We have a board game called "Boz's Big World," which is basically Christian Candyland. If you draw an orange card, you are supposed to thank God for something. One time when we were playing, Isaiah seemed to be getting every orange card in the deck. He had already thanked God for his trains and for his sister and parents, for his friends and for Lightening McQueen Fruit Snacks. Then he drew another orange card, and promptly said, "Thank you God for this card," before moving to the next space.

He's suddenly become so grown up, and it's nice to see that he's growing into such a loving brother and sweet boy. He rarely lets me hold his hand anymore, and when I automatically reach out to help him take off his shoes or get down from the car, he cries out, "No! I can do it myself." But he also hugs me for no other reason than I look tired, and he reads me stories while I sit on the floor of his room. He's so proud of himself when we do our school time, and he loves having something to show Daddy at the end of the day, like a maze he completed, or a new state he can identify. I used to mourn the fact that he would not always be my baby, but I never counted on how amazing it would be to see him grow up.

Out of Hibernation

2009-03-29T20:47:00.001-07:00

After a few months (or weeks) of cold, I begin to shut down just a little. Just enough to let cobwebs gather in the high ceiling corners, laundry pile up a little higher, and my blog go unattended and desolate. But it's spring again, so I'm ready to be back. I'll try to do some back-logging of photos and I'll slip in a few stories that I've missed being able to tell, but much of what happened between October 19th and now will go sadly undocumented. Sorry!

We had Melora's first birthday party on Saturday, and it was so much fun to have a girl party! There were flower dripping from the windows, flowers hot-glued to her high-chair, flowers decorating her cupcakes, flowers hanging from arches, and pink accessories scattered around the many, many flowers. I love my little boy's parties that I have thrown, but I was so happy to have something to do besides trains.

She will technically be one year old tomorrow, and the year has gone by so quickly I feel like I have whiplash. My little girl has teeth and says "Mama" and "Dada." She eats all big-girl food instead of baby mush. She takes steps all by herself and can climb the entire flight of stairs with me hanging one step behind her ready to catch her but never actually being needed. She has a funny sense of humor and way of communicating that goes beyond words. (This morning Melora woke me up with a big wet lick on my cheek. When I opened my bleary, confused eyes, her little nose was about two centimeters away from mine and she gave me a giant four-tooth grin and laughed at her funny joke. I can't say I disagree, I probably looked hilarious with my puzzled expression and slobbery cheek.)

Isaiah has also grown up so much this year, and I think I must have been in a bit of denial until recently. I was looking back at Melora's birth, and Isaiah was just a baby then, too. He had chubby baby cheeks and fine baby hair. Now his face is thin with a grown-up pointy chin. His hair has grown in thickly (though in an odd-pompadore style; what's up with that?) and he says things like, "Mama, can I watch Thomas just one more time...but five times?" He's extremely proud of being three years old and keeps track of how old the rest of us will be on our birthdays. He loudly announced to a little girl in Costco (and her mom, and the guy at the nearby photo counter) and I will be 26 on my birthday. Thankfully, she shouted right back that her mom is 38, so at least I wasn't alone. I've been unable to keep my mind from straying toward his future. What will Isaiah be when he grows up? It's amazing to me that I have the priviledge of watching my children become whatever God has planned for them. How blessed am I that I am allowed to be a part of their amazing lives. I can't think of anything more daunting, humbling, and exciting than that.

The Bogyman and the Chocolate Man

2008-10-19T21:07:00.000-07:00

We were watching football this Sunday when Isaiah saw one of the players take off his helmet. He turned excitedly to me and said, "Mommy! It's a chocolate man." Michael and I had quite a time explaining that the man wasn't actually made of chocolate. I'm still not sure he entirely believes us. We've begun to realize that Isaiah is coming into a stage that will involve a lot of creative answers on our part. Not that we plan to lie to him constantly; he just asks questions that we don't know the answers to. Tonight in the car, he thoughtfully asked, "Is God coming soon?" Michael told him he hoped so. Later he asked us who the Bogyman is and we told him a little man made of boogers. We agreed he was a little yucky.

Still, Isaiah's reasoning skills and thoughtfulness are amazing to watch. I was playing with Melora and telling her how adorable she is when Isaiah walked by and I took the opportunity to praise him too. "You're adorable, Isaiah." "No, Mom. I'm not a-dorable. I'm a kid." He's also showing an increased interest in cause and effect, which I learned a little too late after he flushed our friends' bath stopper down their toilet. He later informed me that was a particularly interesting experiment. We actually go to that friend, Andrew's house twice a week and I watch him along with my two kids while his parents work. It's been so nice to have another regular playmate for my kids. Isaiah is really learning to share more and play cooperative games. He has figured out how to bring one toy for himself and another for Andrew (who is 11 months) so they won't steal from each other, and how to take turns with a toy they both want. The one thing Isaiah refuses to share is Melora. When Andrew toddles in Melora's direction, Isaiah will run in front of her with his arms thrown out protectively and shout, "No! That's my brother!"

Melora is constantly busy when she's not asleep. She will do a full sit up if necessary to reach a desirable object, and her giant-bush-baby eyes are constantly searching for fun. She still has the laugh that bursts out of her like a cannon, but if possible, it's even more joyful. First, she starts wiggling her whole body for a second or two, then she gives a big smile that takes up so much of her face her other features are all scrunched. Then she laughs a giant laugh like a shout that's so infectious, I'm still not immune to its power, nor do I ever suspect I will be. Melora rolls and rolls all around the floor to reach shiny or interesting objects, and she already has definite opinions on how we should behave around her. If she is sitting on my lap, but I'm looking at something besides her, she will grasp my face in both her tiny hands and forcefully turn it so I'm looking into her eyes. I'm also forbidden to talk while she's nursing or I will get the stink eye and occasionally a hand covering my mouth.

We went to the Como Zoo two weeks ago and saw the baby oragutan in the habitat. He had giant, sweet eyes, stick-up reddish hair, and a mischevious look on his face. "Oh!" I exclaimed, "He looks just like you, Melora." I heard a small gasp and looked up to see a scandalized mother nearby who apparently couldn't believe I had just compared my daughter to a monkey. Melora, if you read this one day, please understand it was a very cute monkey, and I think you're absolutely beautiful.

Uncle Peter doesn't have any pretty

2008-09-27T22:02:00.000-07:00

The car is such a great place to hear what Isaiah is thinking about. He just chatters the whole trip about anything and everything that crosses his mind. The other day our whole family was in the car coming back from Costco when Isaiah started up a conversation.
"Auntie Laura is pretty."
"Yes, dear," I replied, "Auntie Laura is very pretty."
After a pause, Isaiah continued.
"But Uncle Peter doesn't have any pretty."
"Um, well, no. No, I guess you wouldn't call Uncle Peter pretty per se," I stammered, caught entirely off guard, "I mean..."
"But Auntie Laura is cute...sometimes," interrupted Isaiah thoughtfully.
"Well, I think Auntie Laura is cute all the time," replied Michael, repressing his laughter quite a bit more successfully than me.
"Yeah," Isaiah agreed.

Isaiah also tells make-believe stories in the car, sometimes ones that he has memorized from books, and other times ones that are obviously works in progress. Today, Isaiah's story in the car was
The Buzz Lightyears
Starring: The Blue Buzz Lightyear and the Green Buzz Lightyear
The Blue Buzz Lightyear said "no," but then the Green Buzz Lightyear said, "But...I thought it was 'yes.'" But then the Blue Buzz Lightyear said, "no."
The end

Melora has been trying to eat all our food lately. At the state fair in August she grabbed for my turkey leg while she was riding in the sling, and later she was so interested in my frozen fruit whip I had to let her suck on the cup. She actually got a chubby little fistful of caramel from my caramel apple when I wasn't looking at the apple orchard a few weeks ago, and she watches our utensils like a hawk as they go back and forth from our plates to our mouths. Finally we gave in and let her have a first taste of rice cereal. It was a huge hit. She ate up the entire serving and had seconds. She was actually so excited about the spoon full of food coming toward her mouth that she couldn't restrain herself and kept grabbing the handle herself to shove it in more quickly. Finally we had to get a decoy spoon for her to grab so we could get the real spoon with food to her mouth instead of her ear or her neck or wherever else she tended to guide it. She's also tried parsnips and pears, and she's a fan of them all so far.

She already has a cute little sense of humor. She laughs when the wind blows on her; she laughs when you play peek-a-boo. She laughs when she sees Isaiah laughing; she laughs when she's being tickled, and she laughs when she wakes up in the morning or when she finds her toes. Sometimes she even laughs when she's getting her diaper changed. I pray she will keep her joyful sense of humor for the rest of her life, because her laugh is so beautiful it needs to be shared.

At bedtime tonight, Isaiah kissed Melora's head and said, "Goodnight Melora, sweet doll." I guess that ensured sweet dreams for our whole family.

Photo Post a.k.a. Please Forgive me because my Kids are Cute

2008-08-31T20:56:00.000-07:00

So this is all I've got for now - please accept my cute baby and toddler apologies for leaving you for six weeks with nary an explanation!!

Back from Maternity Leave

2008-08-31T20:33:00.001-07:00

I'm finally back here to write after six weeks off. It's been six incredibly short weeks off that have flown by so quickly it only feels like a week since I've written. Two tops. Our family took a week long screen break, meaning no T.V. and extremely minimal computer time. It was hard, to be honest, but really good. In fact, it was so good for me I realized I needed more time off, so I took it. I decided to take the six weeks of maternity leave from writing that I didn't take after Melora was born because I felt compelled to journal about every wonderful moment. I'm sorry I didn't tell my regular readers (that would be you, Mom) that I was going to take a break and just left without any note of explanation. But if anyone is still reading (that would be you again, Mom!) I have so much to write, as well as a big huge apology/bribe to read again. Photo post!!!

We have had an amazing sprint to the finish line of summer. Although I missed blogging about all our adventures, I’m so glad I took a step back from the computer screen to actually have them.

Shortly after I last posted, we went to Wisconsin Dells with our church small group. We spent three days there splashing around the pools at our resort and smelling like a whole lot of sunscreen. Isaiah was too little to do any of the big waterslides, but we really enjoyed the lazy rivers and the housekeeping service. I may have enjoyed that last part slightly more than Isaiah. I think the trip will be more relaxing if we take it again in a few years, because this past time I was constantly on high drowning alert.

We then took our aforementioned screen break which was so challenging and enjoyable (eventually.) We took walks in the evenings, played for hours upon hours outside, grilled, played games together, and actually got to bed on time. I knew during that time that this was how I should live my life. I read so much more to Isaiah; I played all day with my kids; I spent hours staring into Melora’s beautiful blue eyes and making Isaiah double over laughing; I got lungfulls of fresh, evening air, and I snuggled with my husband as we read together in the evenings.

I wish I could say I didn’t miss the internet or T.V., but I did. I really missed T.V. during the day when I just needed 30 minutes to clean and couldn’t turn the boob tube on to entertain Isaiah. I missed the internet several times a day because I couldn’t sneak upstairs to read momformation or my friends’ many blogs. I missed T.V. in the evenings after Michael got home mainly on Tuesday night when Wipeout was on. How funny is that show? Oddly enough, after the first day or two, Isaiah didn’t miss T.V. at all. He’s smart enough to recognize a good change when it hits him, but I am stuck in my old, addictive habits. I’m glad I didn’t give myself a lifelong internet and T.V. ban, but I’m going to try, really try, to use them less. I’ve realized in the past six weeks how quickly my kids are growing up, and it’s shocking.

We celebrated our 5 year anniversary August 16^th with grilled steak and cheesecake at home with our beautiful children. We have gone out to dinner for two the previous four years of marriage, and I was a little sad this anniversary was going to pass without the usual fanfare. But spending the night surrounded by our most cherished blessings was wonderful. We all enjoyed dinner together (Isaiah was a big fan of the cheesecake,) and I didn’t have any nagging worries in the back of my head about our kids left at home.

Then the Olympics hit and we allowed ourselves to watch T.V. again, and I will admit that I came down with quite the Olympic fever. I stayed up late to watch volleyball and gymnastics every night the games were on, and Isaiah even got excited when it was time to watch “Bali-ball.” Now that they are over, though, we are getting back to a somewhat normal sleep schedule unless I can think of a good excuse to mess it all up again.

So, yes, this summer passed in a huge blur, and I haven’t taken the time to write down the hundreds of wonderfully adorable things my kids have done, but a few favorites stand out:

Isaiah's version of "It's raining, it's pouring:"
Aaaaand the man went into his beeeeeeeed, and he didn't want to go potteeeeee in his potty seat in this morning.

Melora is extremely interested in food and has begun grabbing anything in my hand and trying to eat it. So far she has managed to get into her mouth, my cell phone, a vanilla Coke can, frozen lemonade, a toy train, and some cardboard. She likes it all.

Isaiah is becoming a more adoring big brother every day. He knows it’s his duty to protect Melora and keep her happy, so he has perfected his soothing “shhhhhhhhhh” sounds which he starts whenever Melora begins crying. Amazingly enough, she calms down for his “shhhhhhhh” much more readily than she calms down for mine. He also shares his toys with her (which is how the toy train got tasted in the first place) and makes sure she is given anything in sight that is pink. He is convinced that my pink underwear belongs to Melora, and I can’t sort laundry without him taking the pink panties and trying to dress Melora in them.

Melora can now roll over and hold her head up big and high. She has also begun talking, which starts first thing in the morning and only stops when she falls asleep again. She coos, shouts, and giggles all day long to herself and anyone around her. I’m absolutely in love with her laugh, which bursts out of her in a loud blast like she’s been trying to hold it in through an entire somber church service.

Isaiah has begun saying our family prayer before dinner some nights. I managed to record one the other night, which went, “Dear Jesus, thank you for this day, and thank you for this day…and for my corn, and thank you for this finger, and thank you for this Mommy hug, and thank you for these feelings. The End.”

Sucker

2008-07-14T12:20:00.000-07:00

So Melora's skills with the pacifier, well, suck to be honest. I mean, she loves to have her nuk in her mouth, she just can't keep it there to save her life. Consequently, Michael or I are usually holding her pacifier in her mouth for her, or at least re-inserting it every 15 seconds or so. Here's what commonly happens when we let her try to keep it in her mouth on her own:
"Ahhh, my lovely pacifier is in my mouth; I think I'll contentedly suck on it.
Suck...suck.........suck...(long distracted pause)
Oh no! My pacifier is falling out of my mouth - I should hold it in there with my cute little hands.
Oh my goodness! My hands touched something - I should grab whatever it is.
Hey! Someone grabbed my pacifier. I should flail my arms so they don't take it away.
HEY! Someone took away my pacifier. How mean is that? I'll flail my arms harder in protest.
Ouch! Someone hit me in the eye with a pacifier. Not cool. Waaaaaaaaa!"

One afternoon, in a desperate attempt to get some lunch made for Isaiah, I actually used a Band-aid to attach Melora's pacifier to her cheek. It worked like a charm for about 10 minutes, and then she still somehow spit it out. I haven't tried it again because I feel it might somehow be a choking hazard. I haven't figured out exactly how it would be a choking hazard, but something tells me it just might be one anyway.

I have to admit I'm not always a huge fan of the weather in Minnesota, but despite that, I'm still so glad we live here. "Minnesota Nice" is not just a legend - it's a fact of life that helps me get through every errand I need to do on a given day. I took Melora into a convenience store to grab a few fountain drinks on a hot summer day. On the way in, a sweet new dad held the doors open for me and proudly shared that he had his first daughter seven days ago. Awww! Once I got inside Melora got wiggly and frustrated because she had gas bubbles, so I held her tummy-down in my arms with my thumb precariously holding in her pacifier while I tried to fill up our fountain drinks. It worked for a while, but I was unable to carry our giant drinks to the cashier while keeping in the nuk, so it fell onto the dirty floor. Another customer picked it up for me and handed it to one of the convenience store workers, who rinsed it off and sanitized it in the sink. Then another cashier opened a checkout line just for me even though she was on her break, and someone got me a drink carrier and helped me out the door. My conclusion was that I either live around some pretty great citizens, or I look like a pitiful mess who needs all the help she can get. Or maybe both.

We had a wonderful trip to the Black Hills to see my family this past week. We went camping with our two kids for the very first time along with my parents, and Isaiah loved it. Melora was also a pretty happy camper, which made the trip happier for everyone. We had a great campsite that was just a short jaunt away from a horse corral, which we walked to several times a day. One evening, we had walked to the horses to say goodnight, and Isaiah had his back turned to me. He sweetly said goodnight to a beautiful chestnut horse, and for fun I answered in my best horsey voice, "Thaaaaank yoooooou, Iiiiiisaiah." Isaiah didn't seemed surprised in the least that a horse had just thanked him and politely replied, "You're welcome, horse." Their conversation went on for a few minutes before we headed back to the campsite to laugh about Isaiah's horse conversation over the campfire.

After we got back to Minnesota, some friends of ours invited us to go to the Minnesota Zoo with them. Isaiah did well for quite a while, but while we were looking at fish, I decided to keep him strapped in his stroller to avoid a runaway/meltdown because I knew he was getting tired.
"Mommy, I want to get down. I want to get down, Mommy. Mommy! Mommy! I want to get down Mommy. MommycanIpleasegetdownMommypleasegetdowngetdownMommy."
Finally, I told Isaiah I would ask the fish if he could get down, and in my best fishy voice I answered,
"Sooooorry Iiiiiiiiisaiah. Yooooou have to stay in your strooooooooooller."
"Okay," answered Isaiah congenially, and I knew I had stumbled upon one of those great parenting tricks of the ages. A few moments later, though, Isaiah again asked the fish if he could get down from his stroller, and before I could open my mouth, Isaiah answered in his best fishy voice,
"Yeeeeeeeees, you caaaaaaaaan."
Checkmate.

Melora's dedication

2008-06-23T19:50:00.000-07:00

As promised, I have pictures of Melora in her fluffy dedication dress. I just have to say, I love dressing a baby girl. At night, I will plan out her outfit for the next day with glee, and I don't even mind it when she gets poop or other bodily goop on her clothes because all it means is that I get to put her into ANOTHER CUTE OUTFIT!

Melora's dedication was really beautiful. There were actually eight families dedicating babies that day (our small church doesn't usually go a month without a new a baby in the congregation) and they were all very sweet and adorable up on the stage. Isaiah stayed in Michael's arms really most of the time up on the stage, and when Pastor Steve came to us to say a prayer for Melora, Isaiah joined by gently placing his hand on Melora's head as the church ooohed and aaahed. It was very sweet. Then, his fingers sort of crept over her face and threatened to poke out an eye, so we had to move her away. Still, though, Isaiah's adoration of his sister is very apparent.

In the pictures you can see us worshiping with our kiddos before the dedication, Isaiah gazing lovingly at Melora up on the stage, Isaiah helping pastor Steve by putting his hand our Melora's head, and a quick close up of the fluffy dress before I removed it and put her into something more comfy and spit-up-proof.

Hooray for Super-Dad

2008-06-16T14:54:00.000-07:00

This post is a few days late for Father's Day, but I still know how incredibly I am blessed to have Michael as my husband and the father of our children. He's absolutely amazing. He comes home from work just in time to save my sanity each day and gives our kids some much needed daddy-time. Let's face it; he's just more fun than I am. So with this post are some pictures of Michael the wonder-dad being absolutely wonderful!

We've gotten a bit knocked off our feet the past few weeks. Isaiah got another ear infection and was stuck on some super-strength medicine that gave him nasty stomach aches. Melora got her 2-month vaccinations and was feeling a bit off for a few days, and we were all hit with spring colds. We're finally getting back on track, though, and I'm happy to report I can again smell flowers and taste food. Yay! Even though we have had several nice days, I felt too tired and sick to venture out very much with my wee little ones, so it's really nice to get out into the fresh air and sunshine again.

We went to Como Zoo and Conservatory last Friday with the Walzes and saw their special butterfly exhibit. Isaiah was mildly impressed with the butterflies, but it was nothing compared to the fascination he showed about the tanks full of disgusting-looking fish and eels we saw at the Mandrin Kitchen later that evening. What a boy. He enjoyed himself at the zoo (despite the lack of eels crammed into a tiny tank) all afternoon, though, running around with Auntie Laura in tow on the other end of his monkey backpack/leash. Some older boys actually pointed to him with his backpack/leash thing on and commented "Look, he's a pet!" I wasn't offended at all because they were just kids, and it was obvious Isaiah was a very happy guy because he was able to run around somewhat free but still safe. I would much rather have a happy boy than happy strangers.

Melora has begun to smile a lot as us as well as coo and babble more. She loves staring at Michael, Isaiah, and me in the eyes, and she actually becomes upset if we break away our gaze to look at something else. She mimics the sounds we make and blows spit bubbles all over her clothes. Spit bubbles have never been so cute. Her dedication was June 8th, and it was really beautiful. It was actually the day after the little baby boy's funeral, and we stood on the steps of the same stage we had seen his family say goodbye just one day earlier. One of the questions our pastor asked us was, "Do you now dedicate your children to the Lord who gave them to you all, surrendering all worldly claims upon their lives in the hope that they will belong wholly to God?" Michael and I answered that we do, and the realization of surrendering all worldly claims on their lives hit us both so strongly. Melora and Isaiah are so precious to us, it's painful to think they won't be ours to hold forever; we know that we are only stewards of their lives for a short period of time. It's a beautiful and heartbreaking thought, and I don't really know what to do with it yet except to hold up my children to God with open hands.

Melora was dressed up for her dedication in the fluffiest dress I could find (I'll make a separate post of pictures for everyone to see,) and Isaiah thought she was pretty darn cute. Later when he saw pictures of her on our camera he told me "Mewowa is so beautiful." She sure is. He absolutely adores her and talks to or about her all the time. He tells her that her little outfits are "sooooo cute!" He tries to comfort her whenever she's crying. He tells us to pick up "baby Mewowa" if we have put her down for too long, and he just can't keep his ands off her soft hair and skin. He was very protective of her at the doctor's office when she got her shots, and once we were back to the van, he asked if "baby Mewowa is okay now?"
"Yes," I reassured him, "Baby Mewowa is just fine, sweetie," imitating his cute little mispronounciation. Then he looked at me like I was the biggest idiot in the world and said very slowly (so even a dunce like me could understand,)
"No, Mama, not Mewowa...it's MEWOWA"
Ah, my mistake.

Other than Melora's name, Isaiah has gotten pretty adept at pronouncing words, and it's a little sad to hear his baby talk disappearing. Consequently, I actually get excited when I hear him mispronounce words, and I dislike it when Michael teaches him the proper way to say things. I love that he says "snignal" in place of "signal" and refers to Michael's game of Pac man as "the packing man." It makes me feel as though maybe he really isn't growing up too quickly after all. (But he really is....) On the other hand, there are some grown-up things he says that just melt my heart and make me dizzy with joy. The other night I was tucking him into bed and I whispered, "I love you, Isaiah." He wrapped his soft little arms around me, nuzzled my cheek, and whispered back, "I love you too much." You have no idea, Isaiah, how my heart burst with your little whisper.

Enjoy your babies

2008-06-07T17:12:00.000-07:00

So many wonderful, beautiful, sweet, cute, funny moments have happened this week. But I'm not going to write about them today. (Don't worry - I'll write about them later.)

Instead I'm going to keep it short. This afternoon Michael and I went to the funeral of a beautiful little boy would have turned 11 months old today. We sat near the back and wept, feeling only a fraction of the pain his parents were feeling up in the front pew. We sang songs of hope and peace as we acknowledged the fact that he is in heaven in the arms of God, but few times have I so acutely felt the pain of not being in paradise with Him. We saw pictures of the beautiful little life taken from this world and, as his dad said, "the world is a far worse place without him."

After the service I came up to give his dad a quick hug before we left, and he looked down to see Melora asleep in the sling. "Enjoy her," he told me. So instead of writing a long blog, I'm going to back downstairs to enjoy my babies who I need at this moment so much more than they need me. You can visit his caring bridge site at http://www.caringbridge.org/visit/nicoswenson. I know their family would appreciate prayers and encouragement from everyone right now.

(This is a picture of me enjoying my two babies this afternoon who were both asleep in my arms.)

Zacchaeus was a wee little man...

2008-05-26T21:08:00.001-07:00

Michael had Monday off for Memorial day, and it was so wonderful to have a long weekend with him. I always miss him so much while he's at work. We planned to have a relaxing long weekend together without much fuss or crazy running around, which is exactly what we did.

On Saturday we had a picnic in the park, which actually less fun and more like a disaster than I had hoped. We got to the park right at lunchtime, and we foolishly tried to eat our picnic right away instead of letting Isaiah run around like he wanted. Much crying ensued. Then we realized that the particular park we chose was a little unsafe because it was an island with murky water on every side that Isaiah wasn't allowed to go into despite the fact that he really wanted to get very near to the steep banks. Much crying ensued. I had also promised Isaiah that we would be able to feed the ducks because I had seen vast quantities of ducks in the park that very morning as I drove by. Once we got there, though, the ducks had apparently migrated far, far away. Much crying ensued. Then Isaiah got too excited by his environment to go potty in his little portable toilet and instead went in his pants. Much crying ensued. Then he wanted to join in on the other family barbecues that were taking place around the park, but he wasn't exactly invited. So he patiently listened to our reasonable explanations and cheerfully stayed away from the strangers and their red-hot grills. Just kidding...much crying ensued.

The next day was much better, though. Isaiah had fun in church during nursery, as he always does. Michael and I also had a pretty great time during the service. Melora has begun smiling, and she kept flashing quick, beautiful little smiles to me during the first 20 minutes of church before she fell asleep. I didn't pay very much attention to that part of church because I was busy grinning at my daughter like a love-struck puppy and elbowing my more-pious husband to look at her. That afternoon we built a giant marble track in our dining room out of things from our recycling bin like paper-towel-tubes and soda bottles. Michael did all the work while Isaiah played with marbles and I bounced Melora up and down. He's a pretty sweet dad, though, so he didn't seem to mind. Then on Monday we went to a giant indoor playplace called Edinborough. Isaiah spent hours climbing on the equipment, bouncing in the bouncy castle, and kicking balls around the gym. I played with him for a while, but Michael got the better part of the workout. It was pretty cute to sit on the bench and watch happy kids being chased by their sweaty dads up mazes and down slides.

We have started doing family devotions in the evenings which has been really sweet. I've also found a great blog with the words to some of my favorite Sunday School songs as a child, so we've had fun dancing and singing to those. I've always dreamed of my family reading the Bible together and just living in a home full of love for Christ, and I feel like we're taking some really good steps to be that way. Isaiah doesn't really understand the spiritual applications of the devotions we read, but he likes the stories anyway, and he hears Michael and I talk about God's love. He also has begun singing the songs all by himself sometimes. It's so sweet to hear him sing a verse of Zacchaeus or Deep and Wide as he's playing. Also, Michael and I decided to choose verses to pray over our kids for the next year. Melora's verse for this year is Psalm 5:11
Let Melora take refuge in you and be glad; let her ever sing for joy. Spread your protection over Melora that she may rejoice in you.
and Isaiah's is Romans 10: 9, 13
I pray that Isaiah would confess with his mouth that Jesus is Lord, and that he would believe in his heart that you have raised Christ from the dead. Cause Isaiah to call on your name, Lord and save him.
I can't wait to see what God has in store for our family as we pray for our kids.

Free from TV

2008-05-26T19:16:00.000-07:00

A few weeks ago in his sermon, our pastor mentioned that he took a break from watching TV for a month and only then realized how much he had become dependent on it. I began thinking about how much TV I let Isaiah watch during the day and realized it was more than I liked. On the one hand I told myself that he was only getting half an hour to an hour a day of Curious George, but in reality I knew that I used that time to get things done (like my blog,) and so I would often extend it and let him watch a good 15 minutes of the next show on PBS kids after George. Sometimes, if I was either really behind on stuff or just feeling a bit lazy, I would let him watch up to 2 1/2 hours a day of TV and movies. When you realize that he also takes a significant nap during the day as well as 45 minutes of sitting in his high chair at lunch, that adds up to a lot of inactive time. So we have stopped watching TV during the day for the past two weeks. I've allowed a 1/2 hour of Veggie Tales on Fridays as an end-of-the week treat but beyond that, our TV has been silent, forlorn, and dark. Our days have been so chock full of things I wanted to write about. But every night I've collapsed into bed exhausted from so much playing. It has been wonderful. Isaiah smells like fresh air, sunscreen, and grass, and I no longer feel like a mama bear stuck in hibernation with a couple cubs.

I really feel like I've grown as a mom in the past two weeks without TV to do a little daily babysitting, and I've learned so much too. First, I've learned that I really did rely on the television more than I was admitting to myself. I also learned that we have a sweet little robin's nest (complete with four baby robins) just outside our back door. I've learned that the best way to start the day is with a cup of hot coffee on the steps outside while blowing bubbles for my little guy to chase around the yard. I've learned that we are in walking distance of three great parks and a library, and that ants look really cool under a magnifying glass.

Melora has seemed to enjoy the time outside as well. I'm trying to give her little butt lots of fresh air because she has thrush, which is a yeast infection babies get in their mouths and on their bums, and keeping her dry and undiapered is a great way to make her feel better. So several times this week I would just lay out a bunch of towels in a shady spot on the grass and let her kick her little free, naked legs in the air. Then when she got tired, I piled soft blankets around her like a nest and let her fall asleep in the gentle breeze. Sounds pretty great, no?

No Ice Please

2008-05-06T22:25:00.000-07:00

This week I've been reminded in several hard ways that I am so blessed to have two healthy children. I'm among the privileged to be able to put food in front of them daily and to have a safe home to shelter them. I'm incredibly fortunate to be surrounded by family and friends who love my children and I'm blessed beyond measure to know that God loves my children with an endless, selfless love I can't even fathom. Thank you, God, for protecting my precious babies in ways I don't even realize or understand.

Isaiah, Melora, and I usually take our afternoon nap together our my bed so I can spend some time snuggling between them. Earlier this week I was nursing Melora while Isaiah snuggled on the other side of her. He was stroking her soft hair and soft cheeks very gently when he got too excited and wiggly, and he bumped her head with his own. She started crying, and I gasped, worried that she was hurt. Although Isaiah's used to hearing Melora crying at various times during the day, hearing me gasp so loudly really scared him because he thought he had done some serious damage to his little sister. He immediately started crying - hard - and wailed,
"Oh no! I hurt baby sister." He put his hands over his face and didn't calm down until he was completely reassured that she was alright. I felt terrible for making him feel guilty, and he felt terrible for hurting Melora. Melora, on the other hand had gotten over the surprise of being bumped very quickly and was feeling fine. So Isaiah kissed her head to make it better and told her sorry for bumping her, and we all fell asleep.

Melora and I spend our time together just being with one another and snuggling. When she's awake, she is content to bounce along in the sling and stare up at my face as I go about my chores. I walk with extra springy steps and dance to Isaiah's CD's in the kitchen to entertain her, and I sing and talk in the high mommy voice I've honed during the past two years. The real magic happens, though, when we get time to just stop and gaze intently, uninterrupted in to each others' eyes. She has my eyes, and oh my goodness, I've never been so in love with my own eyes. Hers are blue while mine are brown, but they are the exact shape - more round than olive and really big, especially on a delicate, 5-week-old face. I love to see them take in the surrounding room; I watch with rapt wonder as they follow the light as we move; I giggle when they unintentionally cross as she works to focus on my face. I am smitten. And when she falls asleep and her eyes close, her face changes from cute to absolutely lovely. She looks like a china doll instead of a real person because she is so perfect, so winsome. She has no idea that I can hardly peel my eyes away from her, that I can't help but stroke her velvety skin, that I am head over heels in love with her.

Our weather has finally warmed up enough to allow us to spend a significant amount of time outside. I guess one advantage to a long, long winter is that you really cherish spring when it comes. We have played outside every day it hasn't significantly rained since the beginning of May, (as well as some very wet days when we decided it was worth it anyway.) Little boys are really meant to live outside, and so Isaiah has been busy running around, messing up anthills, digging for worms, painting under the sunshine, chasing bubbles, and kicking balls. We took out a bucket of soapy water one afternoon and "washed" marbles in it for over an hour. Friday evening we put Isaiah in his painting clothes and let him paint outdoors with nature as his inspiration. Oh, and by nature, I mean Pixar's Cars movie. We even ate in our back yard that night because it was way too nice to go back inside. We grilled steak and had a picnic with macaroni salad, corn, and potatoes. Isaiah loved it so much he ate every bite on his plate, plus some of Daddy's steak. Then, the next morning, he woke up and asked to have "steak and corn outside" for breakfast. Unfortunately, it was gray and rainy again, so we had an inside day.

Here are a few of my other recent favorite Isaiah quotes:

I pulled up to the drive through teller at our bank this morning to deposit some checks, and when I rolled down the window, Isaiah called out,
"I'll have a number 2 with no ice please. NO ICE PLEASE!! THANKS!" (I always take my drinks without ice, if you couldn't tell.)

Isaiah often comes up to Michael in the evenings when he's in the mood to play with a sweet, flirty smile on his face. Then in a baiting voice he says,
"Oh no...don't get me Daddy. Don't you tiiiiiickle me!" So Michael always chases and tickles him, of course. Tonight, though, Michael apparently wasn't quick enough to take the bait, so Isaiah said,
"Daddy, don't tiiiiiiiickle me!...Don't get me, Daddy!...Hey Daddy! Come tickle me!!"

Oh the might! Oh the fury! Oh the poop!

2008-05-06T20:49:00.000-07:00

This weekend began with what Isaiah might describe as a veritable utopia, if he knew those words, that is. We went to the petting zoo! My wonderful mom friend, Tammy, clued me in on a free petting zoo happening in the cities, so we decided to meet there with our kids and have a playdate. Michael's parents also had the day free, so they came with to be extra kid wranglers/paparazzi for us. Isaiah was pleased as punch to see his grandparents waiting for him by the big white tent. He was thrilled to see some of his favorite kids arrive shortly thereafter. But he was beyond ecstatic to be around the animals. There were goats, a zebra, goats, ponies, goats, a llama, goats, a calf, goats, a donkey, oh and some more goats. We brought Isaiah into the tent and let him roam free with the goats. Most of the kids under the tent were doing normal things like petting the goats or feeding them 50 cent handfuls of goat food. Isaiah, however, was not content to do such things. He decided the full potential of petting zoo joy could only be reached by throwing straw at the goats. So he did. For an hour. He picked up fistfuls of straw (laced with goat poo pellets - I know) and threw it onto unsuspecting, and rather apathetic goats for the entire hour we were there. The best part was that he laughed hysterically every single time he did it. I wasn't sure if I, as the mother, should stop him from throwing straw at the goats, but I didn't really see the harm in it. Sure he was getting goat poop on his hands, but I knew enough farm kids who survived to adulthood to worry too much about that. He never threw straw at the baby goats, and he never threw it at the other kids, so I considered the situation under control.

A few other factors that made the day so wonderful for Isaiah were that it was raining, so he got to use his frog umbrella, he got to hang out with his Walz grandparents and uncles, he enjoyed a McDonald's kiddie cone with his friends, and he had pizza for dinner. If I were a kid, that would have been a pretty perfect day for me too. In fact, it was pretty perfect for me even as an adult!

Melora slept like an angel through the entire petting-zoo experience, and she even slept through the part of the day where I was running through pouring rain with her in the sling under my coat and not very well protected by her ladybug umbrella (which she was gracious enough to share!) She's still a really great sleeper, especially at night. We swaddle her before we go to bed, which really keeps her calm and happy, so the past few nights I've been getting really nice long stretches of sleep. The one problem is that I don't wake up to change her diaper because she doesn't cry to be fed. So I wake up at 6a.m. with the realization that I haven't changed her for seven hours, and then I feel terrible for leaving her in a dirty diaper all that time. Sometimes the poop is still contained in the diaper, but on more than one occasion her diaper hath runneth over onto her nightgown and our sheets. This morning, though, was a whole different story. Melora's diaper was fairly dry and clean because she had been changed recently when I got up to go to the bathroom and get a drink. I was just beginning to wake up as the sun rose and filled our room with a relaxing spring glow. Suddenly I heard a low rumble and felt a tiny cannon blast beside me. Still groggy, I reached over to pull Melora closer to me when I realized my arm was wet. In my half-awake state, the solution was to simply use my other hand, which also became mysteriously wet when I touched her. So I pried my eyes open thinking that perhaps she had wet the bed. Nope. In that one mighty blast, Melora had shot poop up the front, up the back, and out the sides of her diaper. I woke up Michael, whose mind is even more clumsy than mine in the morning hours, and together we changed Melora's diaper, her outfit and our sheets. Then, like the second-time parents we are, we laughed about it and then fell right back asleep. If this had happened with Isaiah two years ago, we would have sat up and talked about how gross it was, perhaps taken a shower, who knows. In fact, in a similar episode when Isaiah was two months old, I actually screamed when he got poop on me. It's nice to know I'm not such rookie now, or maybe I'm just grosser.

Isaiah has shown some real acting talent recently. We've been reading a lot of Curious George as well as watching our daily dose of George during lunch. Isaiah began making monkey sounds quite a while ago, but it has grown into full recaps of his favorite episodes. For a long time I had no idea what was going on when Isaiah would say
"Ooo, ooo, aaaa, aaaah! I feed the ducks. Okay George!"
Then he would walk around the house flinging invisible duck food into the invisible duck pond. I sort of just nodded and tried to keep up.
Another time he was acting out a scene from a Curious George story where George apparently did something naughty. Then he told me,
"Sometimes naughty...need a time out." And he walked over to a corner and sat down. I was completely bewildered because I had never given him a time out in his life. Plus I didn't know what naughty thing he had done.
The lightbulb finally went off because we watched a Pixar short where a little girl loses her penny down a drain and makes an angry face to the men who caused her to drop it. Isaiah was eating dinner that night when he put on his best angry faced and pointed right at me.
"Isaiah, why are you angry?"
"I don't have a penny," he said with his accusatory finger waggling.
"Oh! I made you drop you penny down the drain, right?"
"Yeah!" He said as his angry face changed in to a grin. He quickly reassembled his features to be appropriately angry, and we acted out the scene again. He angrily pointed at me, and I gestured that I didn't have any pennies in my pockets to give him. So instead he took my pretend violin and played it until he got some pretend pennies from a pretend passerby and threw them into the pretend wishing well. (It makes a lot of sense if you've seen the Pixar short I'm talking about.) He's also acted out scenes from several other favorite books including Tom the TV Cat, Rainbow Fish, Peter Rabbit, and George goes Camping. It's amazing to me that a little boy can be so much fun every single day.

Highs and Lows

2008-04-28T11:38:00.000-07:00

This week has gone by so quickly. Actually, every day since Melora's birth has gone by quickly. She's already a month old, and I feel as though I've only had her for a week. I'm still captivated by everything she does, her daddy is still hopelessly wrapped around her tiny slender finger, and we're still trying to figure out how to go grocery shopping with two kids. Any hints out there?

Last week was the first week alone with my kids during the day while Michael was at work. By Friday, I felt as though I had a large part of being a mother-of-two under control. At least under control enough not to be curled up in a ball, shaking and sweating on my living room rug. Both of my children survived a whole week without my mom or mother-in-law living with me to take care of them, and the pile of dishes is no taller than I am. Since I'm not particularly tall, I consider that a pretty successful week. I was worried before Melora was born because I just couldn't imagine how I would take care Isaiah's needs, Melora's needs, and my own needs all at the same time. Somehow during that fearful pregnancy time, I forgot that Isaiah is a really capable, easygoing two-year-old, and my husband is superman. Honestly, Michael has been amazing at helping me take care of household chores (including laundry, which is the chore I despise) as well as being a jungle-gym for Isaiah and a giant teddy-bear for Melora every night.

So, with that good week under my belt, I was feeling rather confidant and cocky, and I maaaay have developed a know-it-all-mom-swagger. I guess it was time for a downfall...enter the ear infection (and change the music to a minor key.) Isaiah was up all Monday night holding his head and telling me his ear hurt. We finally got some Motrin into him and he fell asleep around 7 in the morning. My poor baby. It doesn't matter how big he is compared to Melora, how well he enunciates his sentences, how hard he can kick a ball, or how independent he has become - Isaiah will always be my little baby. Tuesday was another rough day because he was lethargic and sad all day long, but he woke up the morning after a fresh, happy little boy again. We played inside and outside, and I just took the time to enjoy my Isaiah again. Melora has also had a stuffy nose the past few days, so Monday night was doubly tough because she didn't get to sleep until late, and at one point in the middle of the night, I had my sniffly little girl under one arm and my crying little boy under the other. Hopefully we've gotten through the tough part of the week and can now move onto the fun part. Needless to say, though, my house is pretty disheveled, as is my hair. That's alright, though, because my living room can be picked up in a flash, and my babies needed me.

Isaiah is still an adoring big brother, and it's fun to let him help us with the baby. He likes to open her new diapers for us when we're changing her, and he also likes to sweep the kitchen floor with the Swiffer. Sometimes he even likes to dump out a giant Costco container of 14,000 animal crackers onto the couch for me. (Oh well - at least he has a sweet heart, and two out of three really isn't bad.) For her part, Melora is extremely tolerant of her big brother, and as far as I can tell, a little fascinated by him. He comes up close to her face and almost kisses her but erupts into a fit of giggles instead and dances away, and she just stares at him with her giant, beautiful eyes. Although he really does love Melora and hasn't acted jealous, I can tell he really appreciates time focused on just him. It doesn't even matter what we do; as long as Michael or I (or both of us, every once in a while) are paying attention to him and only him, he's giddy. I'm trying to make sure I set aside some time every day to put Melora in her hammock and focus on Isaiah. It's so tempting to take that time instead and quickly vacuum or empty the dishwasher, but whenever I choose to pour extra love on Isaiah, it's so obvious I made the right choice.

Today he was sitting on the floor with no pants and his legs sticking out in front of him, and he began squeezing the skin on his knees.
"I'm angry - it's a angry face," he said to one of his squishy knees.
"It's angry too," he said to his other knee as he squeezed it.
I finally realized he thought the lines on his knees looked like an angry face. Oh Isaiah - how much I enjoy you every single day!

I get by with a little help from my friends

2008-04-21T06:24:00.000-07:00

The past three weeks have been absolutely amazing. Melora is sweet and beautiful, and I've thoroughly enjoyed the mommy-privilege of cuddling with her for hours on end. Her skin feels like it's made of rose petals, and her hair feels like down. I can't help but stroke her cheeks and tiny fingers any time she's within reach or rub my face against her head whenever I hold her. I love to just stare at her when she nurses and marvel at her miniature, perfect ears or her impossibly small wrists. I had forgotten just how beautiful little baby sighs are - so breathy and light. When I hold her against me and she snuggles her little body into the crook of my arm and lets out a contented murmur, I feel like the best mom in the world.

She's such a mellow baby, which really surprised me. Isaiah was very easy too, and I thought my penance for having such an easy little boy would be a colicky baby the second time around. After all, I was very colicky as a baby, and everyone knows that what goes around comes around. Melora has actually managed to out-easy Isaiah, though, at least in these first three weeks. Isaiah nursed every hour for the first two months of his life, so I was prepared to again nurse for a half hour, rest for a half hour around the clock. Melora is content to eat every three to four hours, though, and then sleep peacefully or stare at the world quietly in between. I was pretty worried that she wasn't getting enough milk and that when I took her in to see the doctor, I would get yelled at for starving my baby. When I expressed my concern to the nurse practitioner, she assured me that most babies only eat every three or four hours, and Melora had already gained seven ounces since leaving the hospital, so I had nothing to fear.

She had already grown enough that I can see a major difference in her size. She fits into her newborn outfits perfectly when only two weeks ago she was so little her hands didn't reach the end of her sleeves. She has also begun to spend longer periods of time awake and interested in the world around her. Her facial expressions are so cute; she looks rather mystified as she stares at people with her big eyes and her mouth shaped into a little "O." I understand that for parents who have babies that wake several times during the night or cry for long stretches of time, it's a blessing that this newborn phase only lasts a few months, but for myself I wish it would go a little more slowly. I look at how quickly Isaiah has grown into a fun little boy, and I realize that I just don't have long to enjoy Melora as the small newborn she is. Luckily, I know from Isaiah that every day is more fun than the one before, and I have so much to look forward to.

Isaiah is still enjoying his new big brother status. He hasn't shown any signs of jealousy yet, which is wonderful, but then again he has been getting more attention than usual. Up until today, I have had someone else here to help me with the kids every single day. Michael's parents stayed with Isaiah while we were in the hospital as well as three days afterwards to help out and enjoy their grandkids. Then Michael was home for the rest of the week with me, and after that my mom was here for two weeks. As far as Isaiah's concerned, it has just been one giant party. He truly is a gracious little boy, though, and instead of wanting me to put down Melora if I have been holding her for a long period of time, he shows concern for her when she's not in my arms. He shares his toys with her, gives her soft blankets, and continues to speak for her, telling us in his high, squeaky baby voice "I want some milk," and "I burped, excuse me."

On the other hand, I miss being able to give Isaiah the time we had before. Two weeks ago in the evening, I was feeling as though I hadn't really spent any time with him for the entire day. Isaiah had happily played with Grandpa and Daddy, but I really missed my little boy. So Michael took Melora to bed and Isaiah and I stayed up late dancing and tickling. It's sweet to be me.

*Melora at one week old and Isaiah helping me blow out the candles on the birthday cake my mom baked me!

Melora's Birth

2008-04-03T10:49:00.001-07:00

If you read the post "Bathtub of Horrors," you will recall that Saturday night we had company and then a gross experience where Isaiah pooped in the tub followed by Michael puking in the tub. Ah, what classy lives we lead. Anyway, Michael cleaned all the bodily refuse out of the tub and got it sweet and sparkling for me, and then he began to fill it while I ran upstairs to blog about the hilarious night. I was still having contractions, as I had been having all day, but I was convinced that they were only practice ones and that a warm bath would make them stop as usual. Unfortunately, after filling up the tub for Isaiah's bath, then draining it and using hot water to clean the tub for several minutes, we were out of hot water. So I sank down into a rather cool bath, and Michael again came to the rescue by boiling water on the stove to try to warm up the temperature. By that point, it was a rather hopeless cause, and since my contractions were getting stronger instead of weaker, we decided we should just try to go to bed and get some rest in case it really was the night.

We tried to sleep for a while and then timed contractions when it was obvious I couldn't sleep through them, and at 1:30 in the morning we decided to call our doula, Katie, and Michael's brother, James to watch Isaiah. We arrived at the emergency room at 2:30 and I was wheeled up to the maternity ward. The contractions were so mild and manageable compared to the pitocin-induced ones I had experienced with Isaiah, I wasn't even entirely convinced I was really in labor. I was really worried they were going to laugh at me for being so silly and send me home, but instead they saw I was dilated to 4 cm and admitted me right away. I desperately wanted a warm bath, so as soon as possible, I got into the tub and stayed there for about an hour before I decided to get out because my contractions were slowing down. I was so tired after a sleepless night, but I wasn't able to sleep because my contractions were coming every few minutes, so after several hours of walking, resting, rocking, and showering to try and get things going, I finally decided I needed an epidural to help me get some sleep.

The anesthesiologist came in for my epidural, and started loudly cracking one-liners and talking obnoxiously mostly to himself. When he put the tube in, I felt a powerful jolt of pain run down my spine through my hips and began to hear a ringing sensation in my ears as the room darkened and my head spun. I told him that I heard ringing in my ears, and he asked me if that was normal for me (as if I walked around all the time with ringing in my ears,) and then he wanted to know why I hadn't told him sooner. If I hadn't been woozy and semi-paralyzed I may have kicked him. I was pretty sure my doula was moments away from doing it herself. My blood pressure had dropped to 60/45 and I needed a shot of epinephrine to get it back up, which worked immediately. Luckily Michael, who has quite an aversion to needles, had stepped out of the room so we were both still conscious through the rest of the labor.

Once the epidural kicked in and I was reasonably certain Katie wasn't going to hunt downn the anesthesiologist and throttle him, I was able to sleep for a while, but my contractions slowed once again and I stalled at 7cm for about four hours until we decided I needed some pitocin. Within two hours I was ready to push, and I never had to push hard because she was already within an inch of being out into the world. I pushed gently for 25 minutes, and Michael was able to receive her instead of the doctor. He immediately put her onto my stomach, and she cried, and we cried, and we welcomed our precious daughter into the world! Michael said watching Melora come out and being the very first one to touch and hold her was one of the most powerful experiences of his life. The instant I saw her, my fatigue vanished and I fell desperately in love with my little girl.
"Melora, oh my little Melora," I remember saying to her, "I love you so much my baby girl."

I don't think I will ever be able to describe the moment I met my children for the first time. An entire lifetime of love came rushing into me, filling me up and overflowing so I could pour it onto them. Pain is forgotten, and the other people in the room are non-existent; only me, my husband, and my precious baby are there.

We have been enjoying every moment with her, and Isaiah is particularly sweet to watch. He has begun "speaking" on her behalf, using a squeaky high voice to tell us what she wants. He will come over to sleeping Melora with a toy and squeak "I want frog!" before placing the toy frog on her chest. He also squeakily informs us "I need a new diaper," or "I'm cold, need blanket," when he feels it's appropriate. He wants to hold her all the time and loves to rest his head next to hers and give her kisses. He often gets a cute, dopey grin when she's around and giggles for no reason, and it's so sweet to see that he's falling in love with her just as we are.

Watching Isaiah take care of Melora in his own way has added a whole new dimension to my love for him. It reminds me of when I watched Michael become a dad for the first time (and again with Melora) and realizing that his love for his child was the most beautiful thing I never knew about him. Isaiah is an amazing brother, and I am so blessed with both of my healthy, happy children. Thank you, God, for my Isaiah and Melora. I know I have done nothing to deserve the privilege of being a part of their lives, and I am awestruck at the beauty of your spirit I see through them every day.

Welcome to the world, Melora Karine!

2008-03-31T18:34:00.001-07:00

Our beautiful daughter, Melora Karine Walz, was born Sunday March 30th at 2:28 p.m. She weights 6 pounds, 11 ounces and is 19 3/4 inches long. We have all fallen desperately in love with her already and want to do nothing more than stare at her and kiss her sweet head all day. Isaiah is already a sweet, attentive big brother and a good helper to us. We are so thankful, so blessed, and so in awe of our two amazing children. I will write more later, including her birth story, but I am now off to take a bath and go to bed! (You know you just wanted to see pictures anyway.)

Bathtub of Horrors

2008-03-29T19:14:00.000-07:00

Warning: This post is a gross one, so you had better posses a strong stomach and the humor of a 12-year-old boy if you plan to enjoy it.

We had a really fun, wonderful night tonight. Also, we had a really terrible, disgusting night tonight. The fun part began when our friends from our Music Together class came over. Isaiah's little friend Ava was decked out in her usual pink fluffy glory, and they had lots of fun playing while we talked with Ava's parents. We found out we got married on the same indescribably hot August day back in 2003, and we had lots of fun laughing about our similar experiences. I was having some contractions throughout the entire meal, but I didn't really want to call attention to them because they weren't too painful to talk or move through. So I just enjoyed myself and discovered that Ava's mom and I share a mutual, amateurish love of scrapbooking as well as a mutual lack of time to scrapbook. We also had a yummy Italian chicken dinner, which was a new slow-cooker recipe for me and they brought over some delicious cheesecake from Cafe Latte.

After our friends left, we let Isaiah play for a little while as we loaded the dishwasher and cleaned up the kitchen. I was still having contractions, but a warm bath usually relieves the pain. We decided we should give Isaiah a bath before I took mine, though, to help him calm down for the evening, because he was still pretty pumped up from having a really cute little girl over to play. So we filled his bath and Isaiah and I read stories together. Once it was all ready, Michael got Isaiah into the tub and began playing with him for approximately 20 seconds until Isaiah pooped in the water. This has happened about four times in Isaiah's life, but we thought we had learned how to deal with it as quickly and efficiently as possible. When you're dealing with poop floating in water, the learning curve is steep and sharp. So I ran into the kitchen and pulled out a ziplock bag, into which I cut slits so the water could drain out while still retaining the offensive poo. As I was doing this, Isaiah pooped again in the water, even though he had insisted he was done. So then Michael ran back into the kitchen for another bag while I tried to fish out toys as quickly as possible to avoid the poop raft. Suddenly I realized there were three poop rafts in the water, and I simultaneously realized we were huge idiots for not getting Isaiah out the instant he pooped his first poop. So Michael came back with more baggies as I dried off Isaiah and put a diaper on him. Unfortunately, the fishing baggie Michael had gotten didn't work because the holes were too big, so it let out water and soooo much more back into the tub. Then there was nothing we could do except wait for the tub to drain and clean it out.

I was still having somewhat painful contractions and couldn't lean over the tub very well, so the job fell on Michael, who dutifully grabbed a gigantic fistful of paper towels as I brought in the garbage pail. He began mopping up the disgusting mess when he started to gag. He's not usually a gagger when he changes a diaper or anything, but this was one seriously gross bathtub.
"(Cough, choke...) Wow; I really didn't expect it to smell quite that much. How about you slide that scented candle over my way, sweetie...(gag, cough, gag...)"
He continued trying to clean the mess up despite his ever-strengthening gag reflex until suddenly his body couldn't take it anymore, and he threw up right in the tub, losing the wonderful chicken dinner and cheesecake we had enjoyed.
"Oh wow!" Michael said incredulously, "This is a really disgusting night. I'm sorry it's all happening right in the tub, honey."
Just at that moment a rather powerful contraction hit as I was overcome with uncontrollable laughter. I sat down on the toilet and shrieked with laughter and pain.

So Michael had to clean and bleach the tub, (which he did amazingly; it now sparkles like an alabaster effigy and smells like a fresh spring day,) and I soaked the bath toys in a bucket with 409. We agreed that it would be pretty awesome if our baby girl was born tonight, because this would make for one unforgettable story. Maybe I could even deliver her in the tub!

*I thought the picture was appropriate for the bathroom humor contained within the post. Hopefully you will all be brave enough to read another post one day. I can't imagine having one as disgusting as this for a long, long time.

Duck mittens

2008-03-26T13:53:00.000-07:00

Nope, no baby yet. I figured I would start off with that because I know quite a few people have been wondering, and I guess if I go for too long without posting something on my blog or facebook, people start assuming I'm in the hospital. So far, though, Baby Girl has remained comfortable where she is, so she's not moving anywhere. My sister-in-law is on spring break, though, and came to stay with us earlier in the week to help me out and take care of Isaiah. So we decided it would be really fun to have the baby while she was here. Laura and I went out on Tuesday morning fully intending to walk around the mall until she fell right out, but Isaiah had a fever and was really tired, so we only walked for an hour. (Plus, I sort of walk like a duck with osteoporosis right now, so it wasn't very pleasant.) Before we left, though, we got some Chipotle with hot salsa in the hope that the spicy food would help spur something. Then after Isaiah was asleep I took a warm bath and spent some time rocking back on the birth ball. Then, my friend/doula came over with a pile of books and suggestions. We tried a few more positions and she tried pushing on a few pressure points, but Baby Girl still didn't feel like moving, so we watched a funny Japanese game show because laughing really hard gives me contractions. I ended up having a few, but nothing to write home about. By the end of the night, the remaining options were few and disgusting. I could opt for getting an enema or drinking castor oil, but I am absolutely not that desperate. Not even close. So Baby Girl stays snugly where she is, and no one goes near me with an enema bag. Everyone wins!

On a related note, my friend Andrea wrote a poem/prayer for me birth that I thought I'd share:

May Ashley's birth not be a long haul
May she be aided by her birthing ball

May Michael relax if a needle is near
And may Ashley not give in to fear

May your contractions be short
And your pains be few
May only good thoughts come to you

May you remember that God loves you very much
Now go birth our that girly and all that good stuff
Amen

Since she apparently isn't in too much of a rush to come out, I've just focused on being comfortable with her new, very low position. It's really not so bad (as long as I have quick access to a bathroom every second of the day) except for the fact that my pelvic bone is separating and sometimes gives me a hard, pinching pain. It's not anything serious or medically troubling, though, so I'm alright with it. My doctor prescribed daily bubble baths (preferably with candles) and chocolate every day. I know - it's a rough life, but I do what I must. Last Saturday, Michael suggested we go to swimming because it would help take some of the pressure off from having a baby living somewhere between my knees. We packed our swim bag and headed out to a hotel nearby that has open swim during the day. Once we got there and paid our $15 for two hours, we realized that we had picked one of the lamest pools in the cities. We decided to make the best of it, though, and all got changed. Michael carried Isaiah into the pool while I stepped into the "hot tub" (the quotes are around the phrase because it was more accurately a tepid tub.) Isaiah was really nervous and really cold in the water, so he mostly clung to Michael and cried. After a minute of that, they both came and joined me in the tepid tub, where Isaiah enjoyed pointing out the green spots on the bottom floor. ("It's green! It's green!") We eventually convinced Isaiah to let us turn on the jets, and he clung to us the whole time, occasionally reaching his hand out to touch some of the bubbles. The up side, though, was that I did feel much lighter for a good hour and a half, and because the hot tub really wasn't hot, I didn't have to worry about my body temperature or the baby's rising too high. By the end, Isaiah had a little more confidence and would walk around the bench inside the tub if we pretended he was a choo choo train. Somehow, we got a picture of him smiling like he was a born swimmer and having a great time. Don't be fooled by the sweet smile, though; that was not his idea of a good time.

Easter was a wonderful day for our family. We let ourselves wake up leisurly because we had planned on going to a later church service. Then we led Isaiah down the hall where he discovered his Easter basket at the top of the stairs and a toy or treat on each stair all the way down to the bottom. He knew what to do with the chocolate bunnies right away, and he loved the toy frogs we found that flash colors when you touch them. (They look like they would give you a pretty good trip if you licked them!) Then I made french toast before we headed to church. He had a great time playing with kids, as always, and then we drove straight up to Buffalo for some time with the Walzes. He built a giant snow bunny with his grandparents and Auntie Laura, and he of course also ate some snow and visited the real bunny, Nibbler. He also put stickers on Easter eggs and ate more chocolate. You really can't ask for a better day.

Isaiah is beginning to get excited about feeding ducks, which we haven't done since Christmas. He must be feeling the call of spring, despite the remaining snow on the ground. Today I was cleaning chocolate off his hands in the car (I had ingeniously let him have a piece of Easter candy for the drive, which he just decided to hold instead of eat,) when he began a nice conversation with me about ducks.
"Feed ducks?"
"Well, when it's warmer out, we'll feed some ducks."
"Ducks eat bread?"
"That's right, ducks eat bread."
"Ducks eat chocolate?"
"Nope, ducks don't eat chocolate. They just eat bread. And fish."
"Oh yeah! Eat fish!"
"Yep, ducks eat fish."
"Feed ducks?"
"Well, sweetie, it's too cold in Minnesota right now, so the ducks don't live here."
"Need some mittens?"
"Well, yeah, I suppose mittens would help them be less cold."
"Hold your hand, ducks...some mittens. Oh yeah!"

The Yuck of the Irish

2008-03-18T20:45:00.000-07:00

This Monday I decided to celebrate St. Patrick's Day with a nice, traditional dinner of corned beef with onions and potatoes, cabbage, green jell-o with pears, and green sugar cookies. (Green jell-o is a very traditional Irish food, in case you weren't aware.) I had never really had corned beef growing up, but I love corned beef hash, so I assumed I would be quite the fan. Not so much.

The corned beef was nice and tender after a long day in the crock pot, and the baked cabbage was buttery-smelling and juicy, so I was really excited to dive in. Michael started eating before I did, since I was busy breaking up Isaiah's piece of corned beef and giving him a bite. I asked Michael what he thought of it all, since I had never made it before, and he told me it was good. Then, after a few bites, he politely said that maybe we should just save it for the once-a-year celebration of St. Patrick's Day. After another bite or two, he cautiously asked if there would be enough for leftovers tomorrow or if we would be eating something else (as he gulped down milk to try and drown out the taste of the corned beef.) At that point I let the poor, sweet man off the hook and confessed that I didn't think I could ever eat corned beef again. Michael's face flooded with relief, and he offered the tip that if you pile plenty of onions and cabbage on top of each bite of the beef, it really masked the taste pretty well. I ended up just having a peanut-butter and jelly sandwich anyway. My green jell-o with pears was good, though. Isaiah actually ate all of his corned beef, plus some of mine I couldn't manage to eat, his cabbage, onions, jell-o, pears, and a cookie. It's pretty pitiful when my toddler is a better eater than I am. Isaiah also had left-over corned beef and onions for lunch the next day, because Michael and I certainly weren't going to touch it.

As for baby news, our little girl has dropped. It happened last Monday as I was driving to pick Michael up from work. The drop was actually so sudden (and rather painful) that I swerved into the other lane of traffic; praise God no one was there! I wasn't even sure what had happened until I got out of the car and realized that she had either dropped big-time, or someone had snuck a bowling ball into my pants. At my doctor's visit on Friday, he confirmed that she was very low (I actually needed no confirmation of that, thankyouverymuch) and told me that I'm 50% effaced and 3 cm dilated.

While I'm definitely excited that she is apparently going to come soon, I'm also feeling some major control issues. Mainly, my issue is that I am facing the reality of how little control I have. Normally, I find so much peace in giving up control to God, but I'm having a tremendously difficult time doing it right now. I want to count her kicks to make sure she's doing well in there; I want to reread the book on preparing older siblings; I want to label all the drawers so anyone coming to help will know exactly where Isaiah's jammies are supposed to go...I want to do anything I can do that will fit onto a list so I can check it off at the end of the day and feel good about what I've accomplished. I don't know why I'm feeling this urge to have control, but I know I really need to let go. I need to give myself some rest and some peace. God has been so faithful to our family, and he has repeatedly, tirelessly, endlessly shown Michael and I that his provision is more than enough for us. There is nothing I can give my children that will compare to the wonderful gifts God has in store for them, so I just need to get out of his way.

Oh, and just when we thought spring was coming...Minnesota played a dirty trick on us and dumped more snow. Isaiah was delighted because one of his favorite activities is shoveling snow. All day long he asked to "subble sew" sometimes even adding "please, please, please." He finally did get to go out into the mush with Daddy after work and do some "subbeling."

A colorful week

2008-03-11T23:31:00.000-07:00

So this Thursday, I wanted to take a shower really badly, and Isaiah was happily coloring printouts of Thomas and Friends and his little picnic table. He usually gets strapped into his high chair when he's coloring, so I was proud to see him sitting down like such a big boy with his crayons. Since he was so content, I figured it was as good a time as any to pop into the bathroom. He stayed happy the entire time I was in the shower, and I was able to relax in the warm water without worrying about him. When I came out a few minutes later, I heard him playing upstairs, so I went right up to check on him. He was happily kicking balls around his room, still holding the orange crayon from his coloring time downstairs, and he was so happy to see me he gave me a big hug. I scooped him up and plopped him on the bed for some tickles. After a few more minutes of playing, Isaiah started coloring on his hand with the orange crayon. It wasn't actually making any marks, but I told him that we don't color on hands, only paper. He looked a little surprised at this news and repeated it,
"No color hands?"
"That's right, buddy, we don't color on our hands."
Then a few minutes later, he poised the orange crayon over his sheets, ready to color on them.
"Nope, sweetie - we don't color on the bed, only on paper."
"No color bed?"
"That's right. We only color on paper."
A dawning looking appeared on his face, and he quietly asked me,
"No color table?"
"Right, sweetie, we don't color on the table, only on paper."
I was pretty impressed that he had used his deductive reasoning on that one when he asked, a little more quietly,
"No color chair?"
"That's right, no coloring on the chair - only paper."
Then he asked, in an even more quiet voice,
"No color slide?"
"That's right, we don't color on the slide either - just paper."
I was still pretty impressed that he was extrapolating the 'only paper' rule to include all these things when he said in a tiny voice,
"No color house?"
"Um, yeah sweetie - we only color on paper."
"Oh," he said rather sadly and looked down. That's when I finally realized I should go downstairs and check things out. Indeed, he had colored on the table, chairs, plastic slide, and the walls of our house. Oh.

Luckily I had been smart enough to give him washable crayons (even if I was dumb enough to leave him alone with them in the first place) so the marks came off with a few wipes of a wet paper towel. I honestly wasn't even a little mad. I realized that we hadn't talked too much about what not to color on, because I had never left him alone with a set of crayons and a tempting house/palate to color on. I just told Isaiah it was time to clean up the colors and gave him his own paper towel. It doesn't even count as a consequence because Isaiah loves to clean and thinks it's a game. Maybe I should have disciplined him more, but I feel like it was more of a learning experience (for both of us) than a rebellion. So, we wiped up blue, orange, and brown crayon marks and then put the crayons away for the day and kept on playing. I guess next time I take a shower, I will have to think of a different activity.

The next morning we were all heading out of the house bundled up in layers because it was absolutely freezing (far below freezing, to be more precise.) We walked out our back door to head to the garage with Michael carrying Isaiah and me carrying Michael's coffee. I had just shut the door behind me when Michael called, "Hey honey, I don't have the keys." Oh shoot! I looked frantically through my diaper bag hoping against hope that I had the spare set of keys in there, but despite the fact that my diaper bag houses more than Mary Poppins' bag, the keys just weren't there. Michael called his brothers to see if either of them had the spares we thought we had handed out, but no such luck. By this time Isaiah was crying because the cold was so terrible and biting that our faces and ears all hurt. I removed my scarf and we wrapped it around the exposed parts of Isaiah's face. Then we booked it to a coffee shop two blocks down to hang out in the warmth while we tried to figure out what to do.

Eventually, Michael's brother Peter drove out and the two of them headed back to our house to try and pick the lock, (which didn't work,) and call a locksmith. Meanwhile, Isaiah and I stayed at the coffee shop where he could walk around and stay out of the cold. We were there for over two hours, and even though they had several books and toys to keep him entertained, he got restless and antsy after being there so long. A nice older gentleman noticed Isaiah was getting bored with my entertainment tactics, so he reached into his bag, pulled out a folksy wooden recorder and began to play. Isaiah was immediately enthralled and walked over to the man's table to check it out. The man obligingly played for him, and then reached into his bag a pulled out another, smaller recorder. He played on that one too for a moment so Isaiah could see how it worked, and then, he quickly wiped the mouthpiece on his shirt and handed it to Isaiah, who immediately stuck it into his mouth. It happened so quickly, I couldn't have stopped it if I had wanted it to. The guy just encouraged Isaiah to blow into it to make some music, which Isaiah did as I thought desperately of my Clorox wipes in the diaper bag across the room. Then Isaiah handed it back, and the guy stuck it back into his own mouth, while I sat there dumbfounded and unsure of what to do. I mean, this man was entertaining my son and being extremely kind...but ew! Isaiah definitely had a cold, which he probably passed onto the guy, and I had no idea what the guy was harboring that he passed onto Isaiah. It was all water under the bridge at that point in time, though, so I just fixed a smile on my face and went on with the morning. Oh, and we did eventually get into our home and Michael got to work only 2 1/2 hours late. Isaiah was no worse for the wear, and so far hasn't come down with any strange diseases from Mr. Recorder.

The pictures are from a photo shoot at our dining room table. Isaiah will make faces on command to entertain Michael and I, so we called out "happy face," "angry face," and "surprise face," while we snapped pictures. It's a pretty great party trick. (He also does sleepy face, silly face, yucky face, and sad face.)

Fingo-Mingoes

2008-03-05T10:45:00.000-08:00

This weekend, we drive down to Vesta, MN to visit Michael's Grandpa for his 82nd birthday. Isaiah slept for much of the long drive, as did Uncle James, who had caught a ride with us. Michael and I chatted for a while, but we were in quiet moods. So I spent a lot of my time looking at farmland and thinking. One thing that crossed my mind is how amazing our families are. Michael and I were so young when we got married - both 20, and still young when we had Isaiah (22 and 23.) We really haven't felt overwhelmed or in over our heads, (well - for the most part) even when there are so many older, wiser, more mature people struggling in marriage and parenting. I know the biggest reason is that God is protecting our marriage and blessing it beyond anything we could have asked for, and I really think another big reason is because of our families. We both had wonderful examples of parenting and marriage to look to - my parents have been married over 25 years as have Michael's. Not only that, but their parents have all stayed married too. Michael and I have each lost a grandfather, but we have never had to deal with a grandparental divorce. We knew that when we got married and said "till death do us part," we really meant it, because we had seen that phrase put into action throughout our entire lives. I'm so thankful for my husband, and I know our marriage is a gift to our children.

Isaiah really loved the birthday celebration at the nursing home in Vesta. He was groggy at the beginning, but warmed up after some cuddle time with Grandma Walz. After a walk around the building, I think Isaiah decided he could happily live there. There was a big, beautiful fish tank the spent lots of time admiring. Then, we had cake and ice cream with family and sang "Happy Birthday" (one of Isaiah's favorite songs) and then some residents sat down or were wheeled into a circle to kick a pile of balloons back and forth to each other. Isaiah got right in the middle of the circle and happily kicked, threw, punched, and crawled around in the balloons. The residents enjoyed watching him so much, they forgot to kick the balloons themselves, and had to be reminded several times by the nurse. I saw how beautiful Isaiah was, and how much the residents appreciated his joy and enthusiasm. Oh Isaiah - you are such a blessing to this world, the fact that you are my son fills me with such wonder and love, I think my heart could burst.

Sunday night is usually my night off from cooking a big meal, so we were all just having quesadillas for dinner. I asked Isaiah if he would like some quesadilla as we sat down to eat, and I realized I really need to learn not to phrase things as questions when they are really statements, because Isaiah answers my questions as if he truly has a choice about the matter.
"Isaiah, do you want to eat your quesadilla?"
"Um...no...how about? Just candy."
"No, sweetie. We're not going to have candy for dinner. How about your cheesy quesadilla?"
"How about just cookies."
It's so funny, sometimes I almost want to give in. But never fear - I stood my ground and Isaiah did indeed have quesadillas, not candy, for dinner.

I decided to take it easy yesterday morning and let myself get off to a lazy start. I knew the day would be really full because I was going to re-organize all of Isaiah's toys, so I wanted to have some time just to relax enjoy my little boy. During breakfast we popped in a Baby Einstein DVD about animals and shared a bowl of pears, grapes, and kiwi. I'm so glad I slowed down enough to have that time with him, because it was ineffably beautiful. Isaiah got so excited about the animals he saw on the DVD he could hardly contain himself. His little body bounced and wiggled on the couch as he shouted out the name of everything he saw.
"Elephants! Kangaroo!!"
At one point, he was so excited, he couldn't even speak straight. A flamingo came onto the screen and he shouted,
"Fingo-mingo!!"
Then a hippo,
"Tip-a-pot-a-pus!!"
We snuggled and talked about animals and ate our fruit together for 30 wonderful minutes, and I felt as though I had gotten a break from the whole world. Oh, and Isaiah told me his fruit was delicious, or "mmmm...doo-wishes" actually.

We have been without a shower in our home for nearly two weeks because the diverter in the tub spout stopped working, so the water wouldn't work it's way up the pipe and out the shower head. We have resorted to taking baths and washing our hair in the sink. We had been misinformed that the job of replacing the tub faucet would be extremely difficult and could take an entire weekend, if not a plumber, so we didn't take care of it right away. In reality, though, it took a 30 minute trip to Home Depot and 20 minutes at home in the bathroom. Isaiah even helped by pounding on the tub with his plastic hammer. As we were heading to the check-out line at Home Depot, Michael casually said to me
"You know, honey, when we have the time and money, I think it would really be fun to tear apart our bathroom and make it really nice looking."
Oh - be still my beating heart. Michael had no idea he had stumbled upon one of the most seductive phrases known to a home-improvement, decorating junkie like me. I would have jumped up into his arms and kissed him right there if wasn't 8 1/2 months pregnant and still possessed the ability to jump. As it is, I'm about as agile as the queen of sea cows right now, so my feet stayed firmly planted on the ground, but I thought lustily of ceramic tile and antique bronze fixtures all the way home.

Cabin Fever

2008-02-28T15:35:00.000-08:00

This weekend we went up to a cabin north of St. Cloud with the other families in our church small group. The group consisted of ten adults and six kids, all of whom are five and under. We were pretty excited to spend the weekend away, but we weren't sure how long Isaiah would enjoy our time there. He absolutely loves the other kids and talks about them all the time, but being our one and only right now, he has never had to share toys or attention for an extended period of time. We prepared ourselves for a lovely beginning to the weekend and possible breakdowns by the end. We were totally wrong, though - he couldn't get enough of the weekend with kids. He sledded and ran and jumped and laughed and ate snow to his heart's content. He fell asleep on the way home Sunday after lunch, and when he woke up in his own house, he was so disappointed he cried. I think he thought we were going to live in a cabin with five other kids forever. Sorry buddy.

It really made me feel good to see that he enjoyed being with other kids for such a long time, because I know he will really like having a sibling - eventually, even if it's a tough transition at first. Of course, Isaiah would ideally like me to pop out a five-year-old big brother who can play trains and run around with him, but a seven pound little girl who spits up on herself is pretty close - right?

After Michael got home from work one night, we decided we should play a game together. We were inspired because of the weekend with our small group. The adults played games every night and stayed up way past our bedtimes getting all giddy and tired. It was wonderful. Michael and I love playing games together, but we rarely do it unless we have company because our evening routine is just set. So that evening, while Isaiah finished up his dinner, we played two rounds of Othello, which we probably hadn't played since I was actually in labor with Isaiah. Then, of course, Isaiah wanted to join in the game-play, so we brought down Hungry Hungry Hippos. Let's just say the game was a hit. We played for an hour, and Isaiah loved every bit of it, from putting the marbles onto the board to gobbling them up with the hippos, even putting them back in the bag was fun. Michael and I put the game away and whisked Isaiah up to bed, thinking that surely we must be good parents to have such fun with our little boy on family game night. We didn't realize that we had discovered one of those things that may just be too much fun. Michael had to work for an hour and a half to get Isaiah to stop talking about hippos and go to sleep, and Isaiah woke up four times in the middle of the night, just to chat about hippos. He always settled back down with promises of "more hippos in the morning," but I knew I needed a plan so that we didn't have another hippo-saturated night.

The next day, as soon as Isaiah woke up, I brought him downstairs and began playing Hungry Hungry Hippos with him. After a little while, he told me that he was hungry, but I said that he had to play more hippos before we could eat breakfast, so we played another 5 minutes. Then I fed him and suggested more hippo play. We played again for a while when he said he wanted to get down from his chair. I told him that he could, but only if he played hippos for 5 more minutes. He agreed, but he was eager to get down. Then after he had played with other toys for a half hour or so, I told him it was time for hippos, and we played again. Then when lunchtime came around, I told him he could only have lunch after we played more hippos. By the time he woke up from his nap, he was cured, and he didn't wake up in the night to talk about hippos even once.

Michael had to go to a business dinner one night this week, and in that one night my respect for single moms quadrupled. Isaiah had been having a slightly testy day, but nothing major that I couldn't handle. However, 15 minutes after Michael usually gets home, Isaiah began to take it all to the next level. He began testing boundaries like nobody's business ("Isaiah, that glue stick is a no-touch. Sweetie, Mama said it's a no-touch. Isaiah, put down the glue stick down now. Put it back on the table. Isaiah Samuel...Put. The. Glue. Stick. Down.") He also began running around in circles, throwing his toys around, and erupting into sudden excited screams. It was obvious he knew something was up with his schedule, and he definitely needed fun, energetic Daddy to come and replace tired, cranky Mommy. Unfortunately, Michael wouldn't be back for hours - after Isaiah's bedtime. So, I packed him up in the car and we headed out to eat, just to distract him from the fact that his dad wasn't home.

I chose a KFC buffet because Isaiah loves chicken and corn, and I figured it would be easy. I hadn't really thought of how to handle a wiggly two-year-old while trying to fill two flimsy plates with messy food, balance two drinks over my bulging pregnant tummy, and not drop the diaper bag onto the sticky spot on the floor. I did eventually manage to get some food onto our plates and wrangle Isaiah into a high chair at an empty table. Isaiah, thankfully, ate really well and enjoyed playing with the sporks the buffet provided. I also got to eat a few bites between shoveling food into Isaiah's mouth and trying to keep his little hands off the very dirty, sticky chair next to him. Seriously - this was one sticky KFC. We were well over halfway through our meal when I looked around me and realized that I was the lone female in a restaurant full of college guys and homeless men. I guess I'm not really the target market for all-you-can-eat greasy chicken.

On the drive home, Isaiah asked if we could watch Thomas at least ten times, and I kept answering that I was very sorry, but I just couldn't take Thomas tonight. We got home, and I washed the stickyness off Isaiah and changed him into his p.j.'s. Then we read stories for an hour before I brought him into my bed with me and we both fell asleep, exhausted. Michael got home after ten and came upstairs where we were sleeping. We moved Isaiah into his toddler bed and laid down again. I wrapped my arms around Michael and made him promise that he would never, ever leave me. He said that of course he wouldn't, which I knew perfectly well, but I just wanted to hear it. It took such a short period of extra time being a single parent to wear me out and make me short with Isaiah. I'm so blessed to have a husband who comes home from a long day at work and takes care of me and plays with our son. I just couldn't be the kind of mom I want to be if I had to do it alone.

Fuzzy Footie-Pajamas

2008-02-22T12:56:00.000-08:00

Hey kids! If you want to do a really cool science experiment, put a disposable diaper into the washing machine and run it to see the diaper explode...If, however, you just want to get the laundry done as quickly as possible with no complications, don't do this. Somehow this morning when I was loading laundry into the washer, a used (just wet, not poopy) diaper snuck in amongst the pile of clothing. I didn't realize it until I was switching the laundry over to the dryer and realized there was a bunch of soft white, rather nasty smelling foam coating the sides of the washer. I then found the diaper underneath my wet, rather nasty smelling shirt. So then I had to clean out the washer, re-do the laundry, and hope there aren't any lasting effects on the machine or on my clothing. Yuck.

On another note, it's cold. And I'm not very stoic about it. Thus far I have refrained from mentioning on my blog that it's really, really cold here, but to make up for it, I inform my husband (who can feel it just fine for himself) 5 to 10 times a day. In fact, I'm about 95% more whiny about it than Isaiah, which isn't saying great things about me since he's 2 and I'm 24. Not only is it sinisterly cold outside, it's pretty darn cold inside too since we live in a very old home (which I do actually love) that sort of just lets the cold seep in all over. We have compensated by purchasing an electric blanket and a space heater so that for much of the day, I can sit under the former and next to the latter with a cup of hot chocolate warming up my hands. Isaiah doesn't really care for the electric blanket, because he doesn't like being under blankets in general, and he's pretty nervous about the space heater, which is fine by me because I don't want him to touch it. For a while I thought I had given birth to a son who really couldn't feel the cold too much or at least wasn't bothered by it, but apparently even Isaiah has reached his limit of cold. For the past three days when I have woken Isaiah up in the morning, he has refused to get out of his fuzzy footie-pajamas. Really, I can't blame him. If I had fuzzy footie-pajamas, you might see me refusing to get out of them too. So, since I have clothing for Isaiah in all sizes up through 1st grade, I've just picked out some clothes that are usually a little big on him and put them over his fuzzy footie-pajamas. The upside of this is that Isaiah is nice and warm, even when we go outside, but the downside is that he has been wearing the same pair of green fuzzy footie-pajamas for three days now, and I'm starting to feel like a pretty gross mom. I guess tonight during his bath, we'll just substitute them for different fuzzy footie-pajamas and hope it's acceptable. I had never realized until now how much he loves his pajamas. At various points throughout the day, he will look under his shirt and happily exclaim "Green jammies!" Ah, simple pleasures.

I brought the camera to our music class again on Thursday as well as some extra prints from last week to share with Ava's parents and the teacher. I got more pictures of Isaiah, and in this batch he's actually smiling in a few. Last time I brought the camera, he was hungry because I hadn't given him a very good snack and grumpy with me for not bringing him enough food. So this week I was filling him up before we got to class with anything he would eat plus some apple juice for good measure. By the time we pulled our van up, he was getting grumpy with me for stuffing him like Hansel and Gretel. It worked, though. I really want to ask Ava's parents this next week if they would want to get together for a play-date since she and Isaiah have such fun together, but I'm actually nervous about it. I normally meet other parents through church or mutual friends, so going up to someone I have relatively little interaction with to suggest a play-date seems weird. I feel like I'm looking for an actual date instead of a play-date. If they say 'no thanks' is it rejection of Michael and me or of Isaiah. It really shouldn't be this big of a deal, right? I guess I'll just have to try and see.

First Crush

2008-02-15T21:40:00.001-08:00

This Valentine's Day happened to land on a Thursday, which happens to be the day of the week for Isaiah's Music Together class. So Michael and I spent our evening in the most romantic way you could imagine - dancing around to "Rockin' Robin" with a bunch of other toddlers and their parents. Still, though, there were definitely some romance vibes in the air...Isaiah's, to be more specific. Over the six weeks of this class, Isaiah has harbored a crush on a cute little girl named Ava, and every week his crush becomes less and less subtle. This week her dad brought her in wearing her Valentine's Day dress, and she was like a fluffy pink ball of cuteness. I've got to give Isaiah points for good taste. Isaiah began to follow her around immediately. At one point, when the other children were singing along with their parents, Isaiah and Ava had walked out of the circle (they are both very independent, I guess) and Isaiah was just standing in front of Ava looking at her. Then he took off his own name tag and stuck it onto her dress. She sort of looked at it like she wasn't really sure what to do, but she seems to be pretty good at rolling with the punches, so she walked around with it on for a while. Almost the entire class of parents had caught the act and were suppressing giggles. Like I said, Isaiah isn't the most subtle guy, so they have all known about his crush for weeks. When the song ended, one of the parents remarked that he was pretty sure they were engaged now. Later, during free instrument time, Ava returned the favor by giving Isaiah a lovely pair of finger symbols she had chosen from the instrument basket. After class had ended, Ava's dad said that he hadn't thought he was going to have to deal with Ava's boyfriend for at least another 12 or 13 years. I guess when you're daughter is that cute, though, you have to be on your guard good and early. (Isaiah has continued talking about Ava all week)

Michael has been doing almost all of the bedtime duties in our house now. We realized that Isaiah really needs to get used to someone other than me putting him to bed, and while Michael has always helped out with bedtime, it is only recently that he took over the role pretty much full time. So, every night after a bath, Michael and I will head up to Isaiah's room and dress him in some warm footie-jammies (why don't those come in adult sizes?) and Michael will begin to read stories to Isaiah while they cuddle in bed. After Michael has begun the story and Isaiah is engrossed, I wordlessly get up and leave the room. Even though I would like to smother Isaiah in kisses and tell him goodnight and that I love him and to have sweet dreams, this is just mean because it makes my leaving quite noticeable. Michael and Isaiah read for a while longer, and then Michael turns the lights off and the lullabies on and lets Isaiah fall asleep (or mostly asleep) before he leaves the room.

Isaiah and Michael have become quite adept at this routine, and we've discovered wonderful consequences that go way beyond what we had expected. The obvious one is that I have time in the evenings to myself to do whatever I want. Sometimes this is just catch-up time for me if I haven't finished my to-do list for the day, but I've also been able to read and to scrapbook. Hooray! Something else I've seen, though, is that Michael and Isaiah are closer. It makes sense that Isaiah would become more cuddly with his dad since he reads stories and snuggles with him every night as he relaxes to sleep. It's nice that the change is that visible and quick, though. Another unintended consequence, though, is that Isaiah really isn't that great at going to bed for me anymore. Michael and I just do it differently, and he's not as used to me anymore. I spent 2 hours trying to get him to sleep the other night, in order to give Michael a night off, and when I thought I finally had him down, he sneaked out of bed, ran to the top of the stairs and yelled "Daddy! Daddy!" So I had to pick up and carry him back to bed while he cried "Want Daddy! Want Thomas!" He allowed me to put him into bed again only because I promised that we would see both Daddy and Thomas in the morning. Michael later told me that although he was sorry it took me so long to get Isaiah to sleep, he was also really happy Isaiah had called for him. What a cute Dad.

Love notes

2008-02-14T09:58:00.000-08:00

I have been reading a book called Infant Massage recently (it's about infant massage, if you couldn't guess) because I'm hoping it will be a special way to take time out each day and bond with my daughter. Apart from getting me really excited to hold my little baby girl, one of my favorite chapters is about how bigger kids need to be touched too. The author pointed out that kids actually process praise and affectionate statements only 15% of the time when they aren't being touched as opposed to 85% of the time when they are being touched. So this morning when Isaiah woke up, I decided that as I was getting him dressed, I would try a little massage. It was a double bonus for me because not only did I get to spend a long time touching Isaiah's impossibly soft skin, I got to practice the techniques I read about. I massaged his legs, feet, tummy, chest, face, arms, hands, and back while I told him what a strong, beautiful boy he was and sang some of his favorite songs, and then I ended in a back scratch because I know he loves to have his back scratched. I felt good about it, but I didn't expect any drastic change in our relationship because of a single morning massage. After I had gotten his clothes on, though, I was carrying him downstairs for breakfast and he cupped my face in his little hands.
"I love you," he said, completely unprompted, as looked right at me with his breathtaking eyes, and then he gave me a tight hug and patted my back. Needless to say, I'm hooked on infant (and toddler) massage. Starting off this day with a reminder of how in love I am with my little boy was a frillion times better than any cup of coffee I've ever had.

The pictures this week are of Isaiah getting ready for his baby sister. He is feeding the baby doll from my grandma while they sit together in a laundry basket. He will sometimes rock the doll and sing "husha baby" and he really likes to pat her back until I make a tiny burp sound. The other picture is of Isaiah using some items he confiscated while I was organizing baby things. He loved the bib because it has a train on it, of course, and he was fascinated by the pacifier even though he couldn't remember how it worked at first. For quite a while, he tried sucking on it backwards with the handle in his mouth until I finally flipped it around for him. He walked around for a couple of hours with the pacifier in his mouth until he finally forgot about it and I discovered it later under the piano.

Michael and I took a refresher prenatal course that our hospital offered to second (or third or fourth) time parents. We did the normal overview of the stages of labor and breathing techniques, but our teacher (who was just the right amount of hippie for us) also wanted to show us some hypnobirth and waterbirth videos. The difference in the way Michael and I felt watching birth videos during our first prenatal class two-plus years ago and during this class was so vast it surprised me. When I watched similar videos before I had Isaiah, I was focused on the pain the women went through, and I didn't really view the process as beautiful. In fact, the one thing I came away knowing was that I absolutely did not want to have a mirror positioned so I could see the birth, and I shouldn't expect my baby to be cute immediately after he came out. This time, though, I watched the babies emerge with palpable excitement and anticipation, and when the parents looked at their newborns for the first time, both Michael and I teared up with them. Instead of seeing the blueish, vernix coated newborns as kind of cute, but also a little yucky, I felt a huge surge of oxytocin coursing through my veins and blossoming love for my little girl I haven't met yet. The waterbirth video was my favorite to watch because even though both the featured couples spoke Spanish, I could understand them, and hearing one mother exclaim "Mi amor, mi amor... o, pedazo de mi corazon." (My love, my love...oh, piece of my heart) brought back the overwhelming memory of the moment when I had finally birthed Isaiah and my pain was instantly forgotten as I heard myself say "Oh my baby, my baby." Michael and I both agreed that we would never have felt that way in class if we hadn't experienced it ourselves.

Thinking of how wonderful giving birth to Isaiah was, even though I had not been looking forward to it one single tiny little bit, and even though it was undeniably painful, made me think of how strange the joys of being a parent are. Michael and I discussed it as we were falling asleep last night, and he agreed completely. When Isaiah was only a few months old, I remember a single friend holding him while we chatted in a coffee shop. She told me that she absolutely loved to hold babies, but one of her favorite parts was that she knew that as soon as the baby cried or pooped, she had the freedom to pass him right back to his mom. I understood what she meant, but I remember thinking that I would gladly take back my crying pooping baby to care for him. Although taking care of Isaiah when he is "easy" is fun, there is a kind of ineffable joy in taking care of him when he really needs it. When he is scared and he clings to me, when he is hurt and his tears leak onto my shirt, when he struggles to fall asleep in his own bed for two nights in a row but Michael gets him to do it on the third night, when I wipe the p.b.j. off his face or tickle him back to happiness during a tantrum, I feel a special connection to him because I know I am needed. I feel so proud of him and of myself as I watch him grow up, and I know I am growing up with him.

Pre-natal Wardrobe Malfunction

2008-02-10T14:46:00.000-08:00

I have been having so many strange dreams lately. I know it's a rather common thing to happen during pregnancy, but it was never quite this...well, strange with Isaiah. When I was pregnant with him, I mostly just had dreams about having a new baby. Pretty normal overall. This time, though, I have vivid dreams every night of the oddest things. One night I dreamed that I bit off my thumb, but I was still really tired, so I didn't want to go to the hospital and I just put a band-aid on the stump and went back to bed. Then the next morning (in my dream) I decided that my thumb-stump looked stupid, and so I found the rest of my thumb and took it in to be reattached.

Another night, I dreamed that Babies R Us had come out with a clothing line for infants still in the womb, and I really, really wanted to get the baby some cute new outfits to wear while she was still inside me. In my dream, Michael and I had a big argument about whether it was a waste of money, and I angrily told him that we would be awful parents if we let her go through the birth process naked. Then in another dream, our baby was born with a big yellow banana peel wrapped around her, so after the labor process, we had to un-peel her. Of course, some are much less funny and have resulted in me waking up with tears streaming down my face, such as the one where Michael was driving me to the hospital to have the baby, and we got into a car accident and he died just before out daughter was born. I'll stick to dreams about banana peels if I can.

I have been continuing to hear my own phrases come back to me out of Isaiah's mouth throughout the day. While I was uploading photos to Costco's website, Isaiah was sitting on the futon half watching me and half playing with a twist-tie. He wanted me to "fix it," and although I don't really know what you're supposed to fix on a perfectly functional twist-tie, I figured I would give it a shot. So I twisted it into a circle and gave it back to him. Then he excitedly exclaimed - "You fixed it! Great job Mama!" Thanks baby.

Isaiah is becoming a little too obsessed with Thomas the Tank engine, and this is how I know. We usually let Isaiah come into our bed in the mornings if he wakes up early, and so the other morning, I was snuggling next to him very warm and cozy. Isaiah had already drifted back to sleep, but I was still awake because I had a little heartburn (not enough to actually get me out of bed and across the room to the nearest bottle of Tums, but enough to keep me awake for a few extra minutes.) I realized after a few moments that Isaiah was whispering in his sleep, so I put my ear closer to his mouth to hear what he was saying, and I discovered he was reciting the names of the engines from Thomas and Friends. It was like some sort of twisted sheep-counting. "Donald, Douglas, Percy, Daisy..." and again, I would like to point out this was IN HIS SLEEP.

So I decided we needed to take a Thomas break for the next week or so. I haven't put away any of his actual train toys or books, but we've had several discussions about how all his Thomas DVDs are broken. I did break down on Thursday, though, but I feel as though it can be excused on account of incredible cuteness. During lunch, I usually let Isaiah watch Curious George, because it makes it easier for me to shovel whatever into his mouth, and it's just less messy than having him feed himself. So, yesterday I told Isaiah that he could watch George while we ate lunch and he answered. "No...no George. How 'bout....Percy!" It was so cute, I actually let him watch his Percy DVD.

Isaiah is becoming more and more excited about our Music Together classes every week we go. I'm also noticing that he has actually developed rhythm, which I think is pretty good for a 2 year old white guy, and he sings the lyrics to the songs throughout the day. One of his favorite parts of the class is a little girl named Ava, whom I'm pretty certain he has a crush on. I have to give him credit for good taste - she is ridiculously adorable. He also apparently likes younger women, because she's only 15 months old. Since Ava is one of the few people Isaiah encounters who is smaller than himself, I think that's part of the fascination. All class long he will follow her wherever she goes and hover so close I'm sure she feels an invasion of her personal bubble. A few weeks ago, though, he also decided to see what would happen if he pushed her. I honestly don't think he did it because he wanted to be mean, I think he was just curious. Of course, Michael and I were mortified that our sweet little boy pushed someone's sweet little girl, and even though her dad said it wasn't a big deal, we felt terrible. Then, to our horror, he did it again the next week, and Michael had to pick him up and take him away from Ava.

So, this last Thursday on the way to class, we all had a talk about how to be gentle to other kids. We talked about not pushing, and once we got to class, we reminded Isaiah that he couldn't corral Ava to go wherever he wanted; he had to let her walk around on her own. Then we held our breath to see what would happen. Thankfully, Isaiah was a perfect gentleman. A few times he got a little close because he sort of wanted to hug her while she was walking, but he never pushed. In fact, at one point, little Ava dropped her egg shakers (little rhythm instruments the kids use sometimes) on the floor, so Isaiah dropped his right next to hers to show her it was alright, then he picked hers up and handed them back to her. He also picked out all the best instruments from the basket during free instrument time and tried to give her every single one. What a little romantic.

Fuzzy Baby Sister

2008-01-31T07:57:00.000-08:00

Isaiah has been extra everything lately. By that I mean he has been extra funny, extra sweet, extra fussy, extra amazing, and extra challenging. The extra fussy and extra challenging parts stem from Isaiah having his first ear infection ever. He made it to almost two years old before he finally had one (he was diagnosed on Sunday and his birthday was on Wednesday.) Michael and I were rather shocked on Sunday when Isaiah became inconsolably fussy, because he is always consolable. He cried for an entire 45 minutes, which he hasn't done since he was a month old. We didn't know if an ear infection was worthy of an urgent care visit to a late night pediatrics clinic, but after he was completely unable to sleep because of the discomfort, we decided that we didn't care if they laughed or rolled their eyes at us - we were going to the doctor. Thankfully, they didn't look at us like we were paranoid idiots for bringing him in; in fact, when the doctor came in and saw the huge circles under his eyes and his sad little face wrapped up in a fuzzy blanket, she exclaimed, "Oh, he looks just miserable." I could have kissed her. Isaiah was immediately given amoxycillin and Motrin, and he slept well that night.

Isaiah was almost himself right away, but he still had a little trouble sleeping and was more easily frustrated. Still, he held himself together pretty well during the day. The tough part came when Michael got home from work. For some reason, when Isaiah has a bad day, he likes to take it out on Michael, which is completely unfair. Even if Isaiah has had a bad day because I have been dragging him around on too many errands or I have been impatient, Michael is the one who bears the brunt of Isaiah's tiny wrath. I was reading in a book called From One Child to Two that toddlers will abuse their parents because they know it's safe. The author said it's something both toddlers and teenagers do to their mothers and fathers because they know that their parents will still love them. It's true that Michael has a gift of near-infinite patience (both with Isaiah and with me) and that when Isaiah meanly refuses Michael's hugs or pushes Michael away as we all snuggle on the couch, Michael sweetly forgives him and tries again. If Isaiah treated me that way, I would probably just cry and pout like a toddler myself.

I've told Isaiah so many times how blessed he is to have such a wonderful daddy, and that so many little boys don't even have daddies to come home and love them. He doesn't really understand that yet, though, and when I talked to my mom about it, she said I would do the same thing. My dad is a meteorologist, and when I was little, he was a forecaster who was rather low of the totem pole, and so he had to work all sorts of crazy evening shifts and weekends. When he came home, all he wanted to do was hold his baby girl, and I would scream every time he touched me. I feel very guilty when I hear about it now, but it does give me perspective that this will end. I have yet to ask Michael's mom if he did the same thing to his own dad, too. I also have a feeling this stage will end rather abruptly when the new baby is born, because Isaiah will need Michael so much. I think one way to help him is to prepare him for Michael’s homecoming each day. I’ve found that Isaiah is much happier if 15-30 minutes before Michael walks in the door, if I start getting Isaiah ready and excited by saying, “Oh boy! Daddy’s coming home soon!” I wonder if he feels that Michael coming home is too much of a surprise otherwise.

Isaiah has finally shown interest in the baby, which came through a funny source. For his birthday, his Grandma and Grandpa Walz gave him a book about having a new little baby in the house, and he refused to read it, look at it, or listen to it for several days. I thought it was maybe too overwhelming for him to think about a new baby at our house, so I let it go, but I was disappointed and worried about Isaiah’s reaction to a real baby if he didn’t even like a book about babies. However, his Uncle Peter had given him a little puppet that looked like a baby seal and came with a blankie and a bottle. He didn't pay much attention to it at the party (because he was surrounded by so many seductive Thomas toys,) but one morning he found it in his toy box and picked it up. He began feeding the bottle to it, and so I put my hand into the puppet's mouth and began to make eating noises and coos. Isaiah promptly became obsessed. I made crying noises, cooing noises, burping noises, and sneezing noises. Isaiah smiled down at the fuzzy little seal like she was actually his precious new baby sister, and we spent almost an hour just feeding the "baby."

Then, when it was Isaiah's lunchtime, he wanted the baby to sit with him, and when it was his naptime, he wanted the baby to sleep with him. When he woke up, I somehow couldn't find the baby seal (it had gotten stuck between two blankets) and so I substituted a baby doll my grandmother had given us. I was worried Isaiah would reject her because she wasn't a fuzzy baby seal, but he just fed her the bottle and burped her and kissed her. He even sang "Twinkle Twinkle Little Star" to her, and he gave her one of his Thomas the Tank Engine toys to play with. You could have knocked me over with a feather. At dinner, he fed the doll chocolate milk from his own sippy cup and even stuffed a kernel of corn into her mouth. (We'll have to watch out for that with the real baby, I guess.) Then during bedtime stories, I had Isaiah hold the baby doll while I read the story his grandparents had given him. He actually enjoyed seeing the pictures of big brothers with their baby siblings. Thank you God! I only hope Isaiah isn't too disappointed when he learns his baby sister isn't a silent little doll or a fuzzy seal.

One last thing – Isaiah’s real birthday was yesterday, and so all day we practiced telling people how old he is. I repeatedly asked,
“Isaiah, how old are you?” and then because he didn’t know yet, I answered my own question,
“Two!”
“Isaiah, how old are you?”
“Two!”
Isaiah, how old are you?”
“Two!”
Finally, I asked Isaiah and waited for him to answer. I had to ask three times before he realized I wasn’t going to answer my own question. Then his eyes lit up, he smiled a great big smile and he jumped with joy as he shouted,
“I don’t know!”

Birthday Wishes

2008-01-26T21:58:00.000-08:00

I have been planning Isaiah's 2nd birthday party for weeks. Unfortunately, a nasty virus didn't seem to care about all the work I had put in, and Isaiah got sick. It started as just a cough on Monday, but by Tuesday night, he had a high fever and was lethargic and stuffed up. I woke up at 4 a.m. that morning to give him some soothing liquids and medicine and to rock him back to sleep. His cough was the most disturbing part because it was so deep and obviously painful. Whenever he coughed, it just racked his entire body and he often cried at the end. Even after he had fallen back asleep, I couldn't rest again. I sat up the rest of that night looking up symptoms on WebMD trying to figure out what he had, and I went over and over the decision of whether or not to cancel his party on Saturday. On the one hand he could possibly get better by the weekend, but on the other hand, he would probably still be contagious. I finally decided that the party needed to be canceled. I also debated whether or not to take him to the doctor. His cough sounded very bad and painful, and his fever was pretty high, but it was so cold out, I didn't know if a doctor's visit would do anything but make him more sick.

Isaiah and I just ended up staying at home on Wednesday, because Michael and I really didn't want to take Isaiah out in the cold unless it was absolutely necessary. I kept Isaiah upstairs the whole time in Michael's and my room filling him with lots of apple juice and snuggling with him as we watched Thomas movies on the portable DVD player. Despite all of my internet searching the night before, I wasn't quite sure if Isaiah had croup, the flu, a cold, or what. I did know, however, that whatever he had the advice was actually pretty similar: give him Tylenol for his fever and keep him well hydrated. Those were two things I could definitely do. Actually, I think I overdid it a bit on the hydrating part, because Isaiah was so full of fluids that twice he actually peed through his diaper and onto me. His coughs were still painful to watch, but we actually had a good time together. He cuddled all day and we read lots of books. One problem, though, was that he kept insisting that he was hungry, but he didn't want anything that I suggested.
"Hungry," he would tell me.
"Do you want bananas?"
"No banas."
"Do you want toast?"
"No toast."
"Do you want cheesy noodles?"
"No cheesy noses."
Finally after he woke up from his nap and told me that he was hungry, I would have given him anything he asked for - fruit snacks, oreos, you name it. So I just asked him what he wanted to eat. He put his finger to his chin in his thoughtful position and then answered,
"Penguins."
"What? Did you have a dream about penguins...okay, but what do you want to eat?"
"Eat penguins."
I promise you, we have never eaten penguins in this house, nor have we alluded to eating penguins or mentioned that penguins are tasty or anything. I assumed he meant that he wanted to eat animal crackers shaped like penguins, so I went and got the box of animal crackers.
"Isaiah, do you want these animal cracker penguins?"
"No - eat penguins."
After much convincing, Isaiah finally settled for rice. I still have no idea where he got the idea of eating penguins.

The next day, Isaiah and I trekked to the doctor despite the sub-zero temperatures. She said that although she couldn't tell me the exact name of the virus Isaiah had, she could tell me that she had seen three toddlers with the same exact thing that morning. She mainly just eliminated things that it wasn't. He had no fluid in his lungs, no infection in his ears, and nothing else that would indicate a need for antibiotics, so we were just sent home to wait it out.

We decided that although we couldn't have any kids over for Isaiah's party, we could still invite grandparents, aunts and uncles, and adult friends, assuming they had the restraint not to suck on Isaiah's sippy cup or put his toys in their mouths. I was still really disappointed, though, and I realized that it was a rather selfish disappointment, because Isaiah wouldn't know that he had been jipped out of playing with kids. In fact, he loves it so much when our family and friends come over, I knew he would be perfectly happy. I had to come to terms with the fact that my discouragement was really for myself because I had fostered the idea of Isaiah playing with his cute little friends, and I had already pictured in my head the adorable photographs that would be taken of kids racing around in their train costumes or playing the other games I had for them. I finally just made myself suck it up, because Isaiah's ideal party didn't really need to include kids and games the way I had pictured it. So, after Isaiah went to bed the night before the party Michael and I stayed up until midnight decorating so it would all be a surprise, and we kept Isaiah upstairs for the entire morning until it was time for his party. It was actually really fun to have a picnic breakfast and lunch on Isaiah's bedroom floor, and it was exciting to keep the party a surprise. When he came down, he exclaimed over the balloons and the party favors, and he was so happy to see everything. The party was actually really great. I could relax and focus on Isaiah, and Isaiah loved being the absolute center of attention. He had a wonderful time, and I couldn't have asked for a better birthday party for him.

I think I've forgotten this before...

2008-01-15T13:10:00.000-08:00

Being pregnant for the second time is like having amnesia and deja vu at the same time. I awake with eerily familiar symptoms, feeling as though I have forgotten this all before. The baby will kick a certain spot on my right side, and I will have a sudden flashback to Isaiah kicking that exact same spot, which I had conveniently forgotten about until now. (What is it with that very tender spot being kicked anyway?) It makes me wonder how much of the last pregnancy I have forgotten. I'm also more forgetful in general. This past week I couldn't find the salt that I really needed to make a batch of chocolate chip cookies. I looked through every cupboard in the kitchen and every shelf of the pantry. I finally made them without the salt (they weren't very good at all) and just refrigerated most of the dough so I could add the salt in later after I had bought some more. The next day after getting groceries, I found the salt in the fridge behind the milk.

Isaiah is still in the fun stage where he repeats everything I say. I know some parents really hate this stage, but I find it quite enjoyable. Everything is just so much cuter when Isaiah says it. I love hearing adult phrases come out of his mouth, such as,
"Ohhhhh man!" and
"Party hard!"
He also does mock-adult facial expressions to go with them, such as putting his finger to his chin while he says,
"Hmmmm....wonder...Gornon is." (That means, "Hmmm, I wonder where my Gordon movie is.")
Or sometimes when Michael is upstairs, and Isaiah wants him to come down, he will mimic me by putting his hands around his mouth and calling,
"Honeeey"
It also helps when he adds in his fun mispronunciations, such as asking for more "mock-a-moley" on his taco.

I frequently make Isaiah repeat things on camera so that I have a record of him being very cute, in case, when he's a teenager, he tries to deny that he was ever this sweet.

We have also been watching home videos together of Isaiah when he was a newborn. I read in a book called "From One Child to Two" that it's a good way to introduce your toddler to the idea of what a baby is like, since little kids are usually interested in themselves. Michael and I have been pointing out "little baby Isaiah" in the videos and talking about how much we love him. We've also been dropping phrases around about how his baby sister will come live with us soon. So far, Isaiah ignores most of these hints and shows no interest in talking about his baby sister, but that makes sense because I imagine it's a pretty confusing concept to him.

Michael and I have been working on getting Isaiah to sleep the entire night in his own room in a twin bed, and it's been going very well. He'll sometimes wake up around 5 in the morning and want to crawl in bed with us, but we don't really mind at all, and I think he sleeps better for most of the night because he's by himself and actually has room to roll over. (The extra room in our bed is also very nice.) I've been expecting Isaiah to become attached to some cute little stuffed animal now that he doesn't cuddle with us at night, and I've tried to give him several very adorable and very soft things for snuggling. He has rejected them all, though, sometimes even getting angry and throwing them out of bed. On Saturday for his nap, though, Michael found something that Isaiah wanted to snuggle with in bed - a wooden spoon. Isaiah refused to part with it at naptime, and he slept with it clutched to his tummy the entire time. Then he woke up with it still in his hands hours later and brought it downstairs. Go figure.

Dance Dance Disorganization

2008-01-08T14:43:00.000-08:00

There is so much I didn't know before I became a parent. Not just little things, like how to change a really dirty diaper with only two wipes (because that's all you have left in the diaper bag,) but major things too. I won't claim that I understand God's unconditional love or immense forgiveness and grace, but I can definitely say I'm a lot closer. I don't want to belittle the knowledge that childless people posses, because I'm sure they know a lot of things I don't. I may never do things that they will do - I can say with certainty that I won't climb Mount Everest or travel around the world, but rocking my child to sleep in my arms is a life-changing experience I wouldn't trade.

Being a parent also stretches you - reaaally stretches you sometimes. I thought that because I was a teacher and worked with young kids before I had Isaiah that I was a pretty patient person. Nope. One or two times of trying to get my child to take a nap unsuccessfully for two full hours showed me exactly where the limits of my patience were, and then they were stretched. I was a little worried that our new baby would really get the short straw because I wouldn't be able to give her my undivided attention for hours and hours the way I did with Isaiah, but then I realized that I will probably be better at my job for her. I won't make her first bath freezing cold (which I did with Isaiah because I was terrified I would burn him,) and when she cries I will have the patience to listen and figure out what is wrong instead of crying myself. Hopefully I will make fewer mistakes, or at least different ones, with her that will even out the fact that I am a shared mom. Plus, she'll have Isaiah, who is absolutely more interesting than I am.

We just had our first family music class together this last Thursday, and it was so great. Basically it was 45 minutes of forced fun with other parents and kids Isaiah's age. The teacher led us in songs and dances, which Isaiah didn't do at all. Michael and I were pretty good at them, though, and the teacher stated that it was normal and fine for kids to spend just as much time looking in the mirror wall as they did doing actual class-related things. We did learn that Isaiah really loves to play with scarves, though. There were a couple of songs where every person was given a sheer scarf to wave around and hide under while we sang a danced, and Isaiah thought he had gone to heaven. I think I'll have to make a trip to the fabric store pretty soon for a couple yards of sheer fabric. Who knew hiding under a see-through scarf pretending to be a jack-in-the-box was the greatest game ever invented?

I have also begun planning Isaiah's 2nd birthday party, which should be a lot of fun. For his last birthday, he was the only kid there and the rest of us were adults. Not that he cared one little bit. I think, though, that this time (as long as schedules are permissive) there should actually be some kids coming. I'm so excited to plan little games, I'm going to have to spend a lot of time reminding myself they probably won't get played anyway. Oh, and his party is a choo-choo-train theme. If anyone has decoration or other party ideas, send them over.

T.V. Tirade

2007-12-18T08:25:00.000-08:00

Before Isaiah was born, I had definite ideas about the kind of parent I would be. We would do lots of crafts that encourage cognitive development, we would have a plethora of fun physical and educational activities laid out before us for each day, and we would watch minimal TV. Oh, and my house would be pretty clean and organized too. So, like most people with no kids, I was a great parent. Now, however, I have slipped upstairs to write while Isaiah watches Sesame Street and chores are left undone. We don't do many crafts at all (Isaiah isn't really into them when we try anyway) and since it's freezing outside, we haven't taken a trip to the park in quite a while. Although Isaiah is watching TV at the moment, I really do keep it at a minimum, but not because I am a supermom. We barely watch any TV because the kid's programs on are exorbitantly annoying. Seriously - the annoyance factor in kid's programming is just excessive. I can't even stand to have most of them on even when I'm in a different part of the house. And, instead of growing more tolerant over the months, I've grown progressively less tolerant. For the time being, there are two shows I can stand on PBS - Curious George and Sesame Street (and I have a feeling my magnanimity with the latter stems greatly from my love of Sesame Street as a child.) I'm also okay with several DVDs, such as Baby Einstein or Peter Pan, but we watch those sparingly so I don't begin to hate them as well.

While the fact that other shows are so excruciating probably makes me a better parent, I don't understand why they have to be so bad. I'm also happy to know I am not the only parents with these rather strong feelings to this supposedly benign programming. I recently found a poll on a parenting website asking which PBS kids/Nick Jr. show was the most annoying, and over 7,400 parents had cast their votes and voiced their opinion in the comment section (often with sentiments that would not have been appropriate for PBS kids to air.) For those of you who think I'm a terrible human being, let me give you a brief synopsis of a few shows.

Teletubbies are four extremely odd creatures who speak in an inane form of 'baby talk' and sing things like "Hat, hat, hat haaaaat" or "Quickly, quickly, quickly, quiiiiiiickly." They also have rather annoying names that I can't remember completely but are something like "Tinkle Winkle" and "Tipsy Dipsy." Then there is Caillou. This is a show about a four year old boy who learns a discovers things in the world every day. Unfortunately Caillou is one of the whiniest little boys I've ever seen, and his cutesy voice has literally made me cover my ears at times. The narrator's voice is also rather grating, and the theme song gets stuck in my head and sinks its teeth in for days. Also, he's bald - not a huge deal, but it seems like they could have drawn a few hairs on a four year old boy. There is also Barney, who I don't even feel the need to describe because his annoying tendencies are pretty well known to most people. Honestly, I feel as though I would be alright with these programs (except Teletubbies) if they aired a half-hour episode every month or two, but every day is too much. Once a week is too much. Never is often enough for me. They make me happy not to have cable and access to even more of these shows.

Isaiah has become quite a parrot of Michael and I, and he's getting extremely good at it. Now, before he answers a question such as "What do you want for breakfast?" He will put his fingers to his chin in his little thoughtful pose and sound off a big, long, pensive, "Hmmmmmm...." before invariably answering "fruit snacks." It may be the same answer every time, but he's really thought it through. He has also begun saying "bow-chicka-wow-wow," which I credit my husband for entirely.

We have begun quizzing for our trip to South Dakota. We will look at pictures from other visits with my family and go over Grandma Carpenter, Grandpa Carpenter, Uncle Andy, and Sparky (the dog.) He has the people down pat, but he's still a little confused about the dog, which makes sense because he hasn't seen Sparky in a year. I trust Sparky's feelings won't be hurt, though, since Sparky seems to have trouble remembering his own name from time to time. I have also begun preparing for the 9 hour drive. We plan to leave at 5:00 a.m. sharp so that Isaiah would have two to three hours of sleeping time at the beginning of the drive. We are also counting on an hour or two nap in the afternoon. During the awake time, though, I have planned several thousand different activities in the hopes that four or five will be big hits. Actually, momsminivan.com recommended a different activity or snack for every 15 minutes of a trip, which is what I did. I have 18 activities and 18 different snacks for Isaiah to choose from, plus we have a portable DVD player, which was an early Christmas present from my parents. To be honest, I'm actually really excited to see what Isaiah thinks of all the fun things I planned for him. We bought a special tray that can attach to his carseat to give him a playing/eating surface, and I have some fun little new toys I bought from a thrift store along with jingle bells, magnets on a cookie sheet, a foam build-a-snowman kit, plastic homemade snow globes, and rolls of 1,000 stickers.

We have already celebrated Christmas with Michael's family, which was so much fun. Last year, Isaiah didn't quite understand the concept of new presents belonging to him or even of unwrapping, but this year he totally got it. It was so much fun to see him unwrap a gift and get really excited about it. It took quite a while because we stopped to let him play with his toys before moving onto whatever was next. I realized that I am so much more excited for Isaiah to open his presents than I am for myself. I'm sure people will give me wonderful things, but there is just no chance I'm going to be as cute as Isaiah when I open them. Plus, I get to play with all his toys anyway.

A Lament for Mothers

2007-12-13T12:50:00.000-08:00

Four days ago an old friend of mine, Dan, was shot in the neck while at YWAM in Colorado. He has since undergone surgery and is recovering, but two of his friends did not survive. Dan is an awesome guy. Although I haven't gotten the chance to see him much since high school, and we only knew for a very brief time through mutual friends, I always thought he was especially fun and nice (and cute) and he stands out in my memory as the guy who quoted "Biodome" at parties.
After the initial shock and dismay of hearing my friend had been shot, my thoughts immediately turned to his mother. I thought of Isaiah and of my unborn daughter kicking inside me, and I unwillingly thought of how it would feel to raise my precious children, to know and love them for 24 years, and to hear some boy had shot them for incomprehensible reasons. It's unbearable.

So, daily and nightly, we have been praying for Dan (Isaiah calls him "Dan Man") and for his mother, as well as for the mothers of all the other people who were shot in this two-part incident. They need a strength I know I do not posses, and God-willing, will never have to.

I need a mommy

2007-12-11T12:08:00.000-08:00

I have been sick the past three or four days, and I've decided that you're never too old to need your mommy. Usually, I can pop a couple of DayQuils and go on my merry way with a cold, but since I'm pregnant, I have been trying natural remedies. It makes me glad I live in an age of overabundant medications. I've been alternating warm and cool compresses on my head to try to relieve a sinus headache, drinking lots of tea, and downing a teaspoon of honey every now and then to coat my throat instead of cough syrup. I miss the drugs.

Luckily, Michael was able to be my caretaker on Sunday, he made me soup and grilled cheese for lunch and made sure I got plenty of liquids and rest. Isaiah has also been extremely cooperative and sympathetic in letting me rest and recover. I know I'm not being a five star mom, but he doesn't seem to mind as we snuggle on the couch and watch Disney movies all morning. In fact, there are aspects of my being sick that I think Isaiah positively enjoys. Since I'm trying to be gentle to my stomach (and I can't taste anything anyway) I have been making buttered rice for lunch. I add a small mountain of Parmesan cheese to Isaiah's, and he's in heaven. He's started asking for cheesy rice for breakfast and dinner too. He also really enjoys the fact that I'm way too exhausted to do any household chores, so I just hang out with him all day long, plus I snuggle with him for the entirety of his nap.

Of course, there are also the downfalls, Isaiah is gravely disappointed in the lack of voices to go along with books we read. I am lucky if I can use my own voice for an entire story without coughing, let along Oscar the Grouch or Leo the Lion. There was also the stinky diaper incident of yesterday. Isaiah pooped his diaper sometime midmorning, but my sense of smell is absolutely gone, so I had no idea. A few times during the morning, he came up to me, pinched his nose, and said "Stinky." I thought he was just being funny, so I did it back to him, which usually amused him enough to drop the subject. When I did go to change his diaper before naptime, though, I realized that he had been wearing a dirty one for who knows how long. I felt terrible, but I was also glad I didn't have to smell a thing as I changed it.

I have been enjoying longer conversations with Isaiah the past few weeks as his command of phrases continues to grow. It's really nice to be able to know what he's thinking as he plays and interacts with the world. I've noticed he's beginning to become concerned with the health and safety of others. Whenever Isaiah falls down or runs into something, I will ask him if he's okay, and unless he's actually hurt, he will respond with an enthusiastic "Okay!" So when we were watching America's Funniest Videos this past Sunday, instead of laughing when someone fell down or got clobbered by an unstable Christmas tree, he asked if they were okay. He was especially concerned about the kids, and frequently asked
"Baby okay?"
"Yes Isaiah," I would reply, "that baby is okay."
"Okay!"

Another fun conversation happened today when Isaiah went into his closet and pulled out a baby nightgown my mom had sent for our coming little girl.
"Baby clothes!" he said proudly.
"Oh yes! Isaiah that's a nightgown for your baby sister."
"Ohhhhh," he said in a sweet, mothering type voice, "Cute."
Then he began to pet the nightgown as if it were a kitten.
No kidding it's cute, Isaiah - I can't wait to see you be a big brother.

Terrifying Blessings

2007-11-13T20:55:00.000-08:00

As the air begins to change and hold the crisp scents of autumn mixed with musky pine and wafts of smoke, I find myself growing hungry for tradition. I am naturally a sentimental person, but my memories of the season are especially laced with emotion. Without prompting, I remember the delicious anticipation of Thanksgiving - the buzzing kitchen and clinking silverware. I remember spending the Friday afterwards transforming our house into a Christmas wonderland. Dozens of boxes hauled up from the basement were opened to reveal angels, wise men, holly, and Santas, each holding years of memories in their figures. Thinking about the countless memories I have of Thanksgivings and Christmases past makes me wonder what memories Isaiah will form. Last year he was only 11 months old at Christmastime, but I hoped that the excitement and beauty of the season would leave an abstract impression on him that would carry through the years. This year, I am even more eager to solidify family traditions so that next year he might vaguely recognize them. I found family devotionals to do during Thanksgiving and Christmas, and I hope it will be fun for Isaiah to learn about baby Jesus being born as we talk about his little sibling being born soon too. I also hope that looking at pictures from last year will help him anticipate the traditions we will repeat again this year.

This week I have been marveling at how well I know my little boy. This came as a revelation to me because he has begun really stringing his words into more phrases and sentences, and Michael and I are the only ones who can correctly interpret them. (Well, at least we are right as often as we are wrong.)

Some of the things that only Michael and I know are that when a word starts with the letter 's' and is followed by another consonant, Isaiah will put the 's' and the end of the word. So "sticker" becomes "tickers" and "snuggle" becomes "nuggles" (not to be confused with "muggles" who are non-magical people from the world of Harry Potter.) We also know that Isaiah doesn't like to have a blanket covering his knees on down while he is sleeping or falling asleep. We have to be certain to dress him in fuzzy footed jammies because even when he is in a deep sleep, if we pull a blanket over his legs he will reach down a pull it back off or kick in a frustrated manner until we remove it. One of the most important things only we know about Isaiah is that when he is tired but fighting the urge to sleep, there is a spot on the inside of his ear, right near the entrance to his ear canal that we can gently rub with our fingers and it puts him to sleep like magic. It's so cute to see his blue eyes roll closed and to hear his breath become deep and even within seconds of touching that magic ear spot. It makes me feel like a really good mom to know my little boy so intimately.

Finally, I have to talk about our catastrophic event that happened this past Friday. Isaiah and I were in a pretty major car crash. Our car was completely smashed in the front and totaled, but everyone in both vehicles is alright. Isaiah bit his tongue and was very scared when it happened, and I was just as frightened to hear him crying so loudly. He recovered within minutes, though, and didn't have any lasting pain. I was also just fine, and I was thankful the airbag didn't deploy because it would have hit my stomach. Just to be safe, Michael and I went to the hospital that evening to check on the baby and make sure everything was alright. We had two ultrasounds done, and saw that our baby was happy and healthy. We also learned that we are going to have a little girl! Seeing our daughter kick and hiccup inside me was an amazing miracle at the end of a pretty harrowing day. We came home to Isaiah and told him he was having a sister, which he happily repeated, but didn't really understand. The brief scare of either of our children being seriously injured followed by the relief that they were both alright reminded Michael and I of how precious our family is and how blessed we are.

"Um-nums"

2007-11-07T19:04:00.000-08:00

This past Wednesday was our first Halloween in our new home and neighborhood. Isaiah dressed up as a lion and stayed in costume - and in character - all day. He really liked the attention he received from everyone for being all dressed up, and he happily demonstrated his roar to anyone who asked. In the evening, we went trick-or-treating to the houses up and down our street. (The houses that had their lights on, that is.) We found out that our street is sort of lame on Halloween night; at least half of the homes had no lights on, so we just skipped them. Isaiah didn't need a pillowcase full of candy anyway, and he had fun. Luckily he's too young to know he got royally ripped off. Next year we will either go up to Buffalo again or to an organized event like the Mall of America's trick-or-treating night. The neighbors we met were very nice, and Isaiah also had the bonus of meeting several neighborhood dogs. He got to eat a package of M&M's after we finished the rounds, and then he helped pass out candy to other kids.

The M&M's were obviously his favorite part of the whole night, and he still tries to sneakily get more whenever he can. Luckily he's not really that sneaky. When we were eating dinner tonight, Michael was feeding him a spoonful of corn. Isaiah paused before he accepted it and casually suggested that Michael substitute "um-nums." Sorry buddy, better luck next time. M&M's have also found their way into the stories we read throughout the day. I was curious to see what would happen if I let Isaiah read a book to me instead of the other way around a few days ago. He opened the first page and identified the animal.
"Cow...MOOOOO!" Then the next page,
"Baa baa sheep!" Then the next page
"Um-Nums!" Nice try, but it was a dancing pig.

His imagination is astounding to me. I love learning what he is thinking about, and I'm realizing that his world is way more fun than mine. His toy trains don't just run around and say "choo-choo;" they get tired and take naps. His stuffed animals are acquiring names and all the coasters in our house have magically become cookies (or pancakes, depending on what Isaiah says they are.) Yesterday before Isaiah's nap, we were reading The Very Busy Spider. On the first page is a horse, and when I asked Isaiah to tell me what the horse said, he obediently answered "neigh neigh." When I turned the page, though, and asked Isaiah what the cow said, he paused thoughtfully. Finally he answered,
"Grass, yum yum!" and then pretended to chew some cud.

Wow! Where did that even come from? It was so cool to know that this little boy who had this whole amazing world inside his head was my own. It's so much fun to be Isaiah's mom. He still astounds and enthralls me just as much as he did when he was brand new.

Hopes, Dreams, and Nightmares

2007-10-30T21:18:00.000-07:00

So I haven't posted in nearly five months, but tonight I was lying awake in bed and I realized that I needed to write down what was happening and what I was thinking if I were to get any sleep. (Also, I had to get up and pee since I'm 16 weeks pregnant now.)

Isaiah, Michael and I have had such fun these past few weeks - even more fun than our normal weeks, which aren't half bad either. We have gone to an apple orchard, visited with friends every weekend, and just yesterday we raked up a giant pile of leaves in our backyard and jumped in them. Okay, Isaiah jumped in them and Michael and I took pictures. Isaiah is repeating everything I say, which makes me glad I don't swear, since my phrases have come out of his little mouth at rather interesting times. Today after Isaiah woke up from his nap, I wanted him to come downstairs with me so I could fold laundry while we played. He was pretty cooperative and happy to come down as long as he could bring his cow flashlight, which happens to be a favorite toy of the moment. Once he got to the top step, though, he decided that was a fine enough place to play with the cow and he didn't need to come down any more steps. So, as a means of persuading him, I took the cow and hopped him down four of five steps so that Isaiah would follow. To my surprise, though, instead of going after that cow, Isaiah just looked at me and emphatically said "No touch." This is the phrase Michael and I use for things like stove knobs, hot irons, and delicate electronics. I guess he really understands the meaning. Since he almost always complies when we tell him an item is a 'no touch' I figured I should show him the same respect and kept my hands off. Another thing he loves to repeat is "YES!" He even does the little arm movement - like a 'kaching' sort of fist into the air. He will run from room to room shouting "Yes!" for no particular reason. He also says it when he gets a snack he really likes and when he poops on the potty.

We've been practicing saying "trick-or-treat" for Halloween tomorrow. Isaiah will be going as a lion, so he already has the sound effects down. I figured since he likes to repeat me "trick-or-treat" would also catch on pretty well. However, when he knocks on a door, he prefers to ask if anyone is home, so that's probably what will end up happening. If I do get him to repeat after me he usually just says "Treat treat!" I guess he doesn't want to leave the option open for something other than a treat to go into his bag. It makes sense when you think about it.

With all the extra fun happening and the daily doses of joy Isaiah is giving me, I often end the day thinking that life is pretty close to perfect right now. I love that I am able to spend so much time with Isaiah, and he has gotten very good at playing by himself when I need to do chores. He usually prefers to help me with them if he can. His idea of help is pretty adorable, but it's slightly less helpful than one might imagine. He's particularly good at unfolding clothing and hiding socks, but he also likes to cook. It's fine as long as he doesn't get his hands on any real ingredients. He usually makes soup, which he and I will taste test for seemingly hours until he knows he has it just right. He brings the bowl to me and holds it up for me to slurp, "Mmmm" I say and hand it back for him to slurp. This goes on until he has shaken enough salt (a wooden block) into the bowl and then tastes it and nods, "Mmm hmm."

I'm worried that I will miss out on these things when our new baby comes along. I vividly remember sitting with Isaiah in the rocker when he was only a week old. I was nursing him again before I had even buttoned up my shirt from the previous nursing and thinking that it would be nearly impossible to do this with a toddler running around needing my attention. Now that I am months away from that reality, my opinion hasn't changed much. I honestly don't know how I will do it. I understand that Isaiah will simply have to share me more than he does now, but I don't really want that any more than he does. I love to give him all my attention - to play with him all morning until we snuggle together for his nap. I also want to be able to drink in my new little baby the way I could when Isaiah was born. I would hold him for hours and just watch him as he slept and breathed so sweetly in my arms. But how will I do that with this baby? I'm worried I will break Isaiah's little heart when he sees me holding his little brother or sister and not being able to hold him too. I'm also worried it will break my heart.

I honestly am so, so excited for this baby to come, but I feel like the Grinch right now - my heart needs to grow a couple sizes in order for this to work. I remember that it had to do the same thing when Isaiah was born and I discovered that to love Isaiah fully, I didn't need to love Michael any less. I just hope and pray there is more growing room for my heart. My prayers for Isaiah are that he will have patience and understanding with this baby and with me as I learn. Truthfully, I'm slightly terrified, but I know that I will probably stumble through it, just as I have with Isaiah.

Goodbye baby

2007-06-02T16:07:00.000-07:00

Oh how I've missed my baby boy! True, I have been spending the majority of my hours every day with him just like always, but for the past three weeks, I haven't been able to devote as much of my energy and attention to him alone. As a result, I feel as though I've been away from him and I need to spend extra time with him now to get reacquainted.

The past three weeks have been full of craziness, especially compared to our regular little schedule of playing together at home or the park most days. We've had four doctors' appointments three wedding and/or baby showers, a retirement party and no less than 14 visits to the VA hospital to see my grandpa who had surgery there. My mom and grandma were also in town for a week to be with my grandpa, so of course I had to share Isaiah with them, which I was happy to do. I'm so proud of how well Isaiah has done with all of the abnormalities in our schedules. He has been a bright spot for everyone during the hospital visits, stoically endured the cold and fever that came as a result of his recent shots, comforted me when I became overwhelmed, and made it through the majority of days on a single nap.

Now that we have some time to spend together again, I've noticed that he has matured so much in the last three weeks. He does fun new things now like saying even more animal sounds and FINALLY saying "momma." More so than that, though, he's becoming less of a baby and more of a little boy in ways I can't explain. Last night after he had fallen asleep, I crept into the room and laid down next to him just to look at his face, and there he was - my little grown up boy. I could almost see his adult face, and I could tangibly feel that we had really begun the journey where he leaves me behind along with the other trappings of babyhood. I know, though, that the journey, despite the bumps along the way, will be sweet, and that I am privileged to be able to watch him grow and change and become a man whose mother I am already proud to be.

Sweet Parenting Dreams

2007-05-07T13:19:00.000-07:00

Tonight Michael and Isaiah and I had an incredibly fun time playing before we put the little guy to bed. We were all playing in our room after Isaiah had taken his bath, and I was chasing him around on the beds and tickling him. Then in the crevice between our bed and Isaiah's, I found the "Wild Animals" book, which had been missing for a few weeks. Since I was supposed to be calming Isaiah down for bed instead of winding him up, I decided to read it to him. I was absolutely floored to discover Isaiah knew almost all of the animal sounds in the book. It turns out he had been listening to me the entire time and quietly remembering how to make each animal sound. He even did the same motions I did when I read the book. He pretended to be galloping when I pointed to the zebra; he stuck his arm out like a trunk for the elephant; he wiggled his hand like a swimming fish; he even opened his mouth big and wide for the hippo and pretended to eat my arm. It was pretty darn cute. He made monkey hoots and lion roars and tiger growls and crocodile hisses and giraffe chomping sounds and rhino snorts. I am so proud of him.

Then because I was so impressed by his knowledge of the animal kingdom, I decided to have him point to things to see what he remembered. He got his head and his ears, which I already knew he could point to, but then he pointed to his nose when I asked, which he had never done before. Then he proceeded to point to his feet when I asked, and then his daddy and then his mommy and then his tummy, and then his mouth. Then I asked him to give his mommy a kiss, AND HE KISSED ME! He did it for Michael, too, when I asked him to kiss his daddy. We both got such a rush from our little boy kissing us so sweetly that we made him kiss us three more times before we just began playing again. We ended the night by tumbling around on the bed pretending to be horses and then turning out the big light and just having the camping lantern on, which fascinated Isaiah to no end. Then we turned that light off as well and snuggled together as Isaiah nursed to sleep.

I kept thinking that this night was the kind of night parenting dreams are made of. The sweet moments of Isaiah's snuggles and the beautiful sound of his laughter seem almost delicate as a memory. I don't want to alter nights like this in my mind or let the vividness diminish. I just want to preserve these times perfectly because I know that for years I will think back to tonight and feel content remembering how very right the world felt when Isaiah drifted off to sleep in my arms and Michael breathed steadily beside me.

I am so blessed to have Michael - the perfect husband and father for our family. I was reminded the other day of how wonderfully we fit together. I have gotten into the habit of making mildly amusing/highly annoying noises throughout the day in order to entertain Isaiah. The problem is that when I'm around other adults, I sometimes forget to stop it. So it was one afternoon that as I was putting on Isaiah's pants, I was humming "My Ragtime Gal" to him. Actually, I wasn't humming it. I was singing it by way of making annoying nasally "waa waa" sounds at the top of my lungs. I "waa waaed" my way through the first verse when I realized the Michael, who was in the next room, must be so annoyed with me he was on the verge of tearing off his own ears. So I stopped singing. But then, I heard Michael pick up where I left in the song in the same nasally "waa waas" without a trace of annoyance in his voice. It made me feel really good to know I have a husband as dorky as me. It's as if we were made for one another.

Of course, that means Isaiah doesn't have a snowman's chance in hell of being anything other than dorky like his parents. That's alright with me too, though. In my opinion, if you aren't at least a little dorky in some area of your life, you're probably kind of boring.

Atomic Fireboy

2007-05-01T21:01:00.000-07:00

This has been yet another adventuresome week with Isaiah. He has learned a few new words, his favorite of which is "shoe." Every morning the highlight is putting on his shoes.

"Isaiah, we have to put on your shoes." "Shoe!" "That's right, your shoes" "Shoe!" "Yep, now what goes on your little foot?" "Shoe! Shoe! Shoe!"

He also likes it when I put on my shoes or let him play with my shoes or when I say "sure" because he thinks I'm talking about shoes. I didn't realize my love of shoes would rub off quite so quickly. At least I have a very happy shoe-shopping partner, though.

He has also begun to really get into brushing his teeth. Every night when it's tooth brushing time, Michael and I sing the Raffi song about brushing teeth that goes,
"When you wake up in the morning, it's a quarter to one/and you want to have a little fun/you brush your teeth/ Ch ch ch ch ch ch ch ch ch...."
Now whenever we get out the toothbrush and toothpaste, Isaiah pretends to brush his teeth with his finger and makes the "ch ch ch ch" sound. The other day, he got a hold of my hairbrush and did the same thing.

We went to the Mall of America the other day and I bought a dress at American Eagle. Little did I know they sometimes give you candy when you buy clothing there. Maybe it was my prize for having a really cute kid or something. Whatever the case, the saleslady put a little box of jawbreakers and two little boxes of Atomic Fireballs (basically red-hot cinnamon flavored jawbreakers) into my bag when I wasn't really paying attention, so I didn't even know they were there. Later, though, I was browsing at a booth in the middle of the mall, and Isaiah was bored, so I let him play with the American Eagle bag. After a minute, I heard a rattle and saw little red balls rolling across the floor. I turned to Isaiah and saw that his mouth was stuffed with no less then five Atomic Choking Hazards...I mean Fireballs. So I had to go digging in his mouth to get them all out before he inhaled them. I fished around until I felt satisfied that I had gotten every last one and then threw the candies away and chalked it up to a novice mom moment. Fifteen minutes later, though, Isaiah spits out a tiny, sucked down Atomic Fireball that he had been happily sucking on the entire time. He must have grown some kind of secret pouch in his cute chipmunk cheeks that he hid it in. You win this time, Isaiah, but next time I'm packing a dentist mirror.

Fun Shui and other stories

2007-04-25T21:07:00.000-07:00

It has been so very long since I last posted. Once I got out of the habit of posting, it became much more difficult to get back into it because I knew I would not be able to write about everything Isaiah had done. Well, now it's been almost two months since I have given updates, and of course I will not be able to write about everything adorable; I probably won't even be able to remember everything that has happened since March 1st. I can certainly, however, give some highlights of what Isaiah has been up to.

Shortly after I last posted, Isaiah began practicing his own unique form of feng shui. He loved rearranging the kitchen chairs all around the dining room. It didn't take long to realize this was more than a game to him. If I moved a chair back to what I thought was it's correct place (next to the table,) Isaiah would move it back exactly where he had put it. In front of the baby gate, perhaps, or behind the couch. I finally stopped putting the chairs back unless we were actually sitting down for dinner because I knew they would only be scooted across the floor again moments later by my little feng shui guru.

Isaiah has also begun to say a few words. He says "uh-oh," "baby," "wow," "hi," "boo," and "meow," which was his very first word. He began saying "meow" when we would read his kitty cat book, but he quickly expanded to saying "meow" any time he saw any animal that looked remotely like a cat. Dogs, bunnies, squirrels, birds, and sometimes other babies all received enthusiastic "meows." I also happen to believe Isaiah says "mama," but Michael thinks he's just babbling. We have agreed to disagree and move on.

Isaiah has also gained a lot of confidence walking and wants to walk everywhere, all the time. He also thinks he's so good at walking that he can walk backwards (which he does quite frequently while giggling because he's so pleased with himself) or sideways while looking behind him instead of where he's headed (which he also does while giggling until he invariably trips.)

Also during the absence of my blogging, my parents and brother visited us for Easter which we spent with them and the Walzes. Isaiah had a wonderful time with his family despite the fact that he was teething and going through a short phase in which he was afraid of random objects like balloons. He loved being the center of attention and getting Easter presents.

Isaiah's most recent phase has been a little preview of tantrums. He gets frustrated because I don't let him run into the street or eat a penny, and he begins to cry and kick his legs. He gets over the "mini tantrum" pretty easily, though. All Michael or I have to do is hold him and tell him it's going to be alright and he calms himself down in a minute. Still, it was surprising the first time it happened. I suppose now that he has a little more control over where he can go and what he can do, he's going to run into more places he can't go and things he can't do, which would be frustrating for anyone. I'm just thankful he is so easily calmed.

Say hello to my little friend

2007-03-01T19:12:00.000-08:00

Isaiah and I have been having so much fun together these past two weeks. It's amazing to watch him grow up every day, and I'm realizing now that I didn't just give birth to a baby - I gave birth to a little friend. All day we play together and dance together and snuggle together. There are so many things he does that make me laugh, and I'm apparently just as hilarious to him.

In the car, I will turn on the alternative radio station and bob my head to the music. Then, when I take a peek in the rear view mirror, Isaiah will be bobbing his head to the music too. I can't express how cute it is to see a little baby rocking out to 'Beck' or 'Nine Inch Nails.' At home, Isaiah will play games with me for hours, covering up his head with a blanket and popping out when I say "boo," or lifting his arms up high when I ask, "How big is Isaiah?" He will toddle across the room and bring me toys he thinks I might like, such as a fuzzy giraffe or a book about sea creatures. Sometimes, he is even content to sit next to me and 'read' all by himself while I read a few chapters of my own book. (It's really adorable to watch him turn the pages of a book while he babbles to himself, so I often just end up watching him read instead of reading myself.)

Shortly after Isaiah was born, my aunt told me that every day is more fun than the last. I thought that was a very sweet and sentimental thing to say, but I took it with a grain of salt because it seemed impossible. Honest to goodness, though, it's true. It is so much fun to watch him walk around, becoming more sure of himself with every step. It's incredibly fun to feed him the same grown-up food Michael and I eat instead of pureed versions. It's fun to watch him imitate Michael and me, and it's immensely satisfying to watch him grow into his own personality. Every day makes me excited for the next one to come.

So far away, yet so close

2007-02-13T20:12:00.000-08:00

This week, Isaiah has become more independent of me in so many ways. Thankfully, though, he still lets me snuggle with him most of the time when I need it. Sometimes he even initiates the cuddle time, which makes me so happy my heart grows three sizes.

Isaiah has been practicing his walking and babbling and independent playing. Our days have become pretty routine with an early morning trip to the bathroom where Isaiah sits on the toilet while I sing to him or play with his toes or read him books. Then we go into the living room where Isaiah chooses which games he wants to play and I act as a human barrier closing off the dining room and kitchen. Ironically, the game he usually wants to play is "Do everything humanly possible to get into the dining room and kitchen." He has other toys he likes to play with too, though, and recently, he has been very happy playing with them all by himself. I have found myself just sitting on the sidelines watching him play with blocks, or push his truck, or even sit down with a book and turn the pages on his own. He still loves it when I play with him, but he doesn't need it as much anymore. It's actually very fun to sit back and watch him explore his toys. I feel like I can see his brain developing every day.

I remember being able to walk around the house with little baby Isaiah in a sling and just hold him close to me all day long. I read entire novels in a day because Isaiah slept in my arms or laid still and stared up at me. Now, though, if I hold him for more than a minute, he squirms to get down so he can walk around and play. He wants to move all the time, and he's just a playful, active little ball of energy. It's so much fun to be his mom, and when I miss being able to hold him for hours on end, he gives me a little taste of it once again. When I sit close to him as he plays, he will lean up against my stomach, rest his head in my lap, or wrap his arms around my legs. And when he's shy, nervous or tired, he will hold on to me tightly and bury his head in my neck. I can only hope that as much as he grows up in the years to come, he will reserve a little part of himself to be my baby.

Happy Birthday

2007-02-04T20:01:00.000-08:00

Isaiah's birthday party has come and gone, and it was a ton of fun. Sure, we happened to have it on the coldest day of the entire year, but it was all warm and fuzzy in our home. Awwww!

We had only done a small celebration on the night of his actual birthday with chocolate cupcakes. (I got the messiest cupcakes I could find and just let Isaiah go wild.) Then for his birthday party we did an actual cake for everyone to share. We decided to keep the party fairly small since Isaiah wouldn't remember it anyway and too many people might be stressful. (For both Isaiah and me since our living room is tiny.)

Isaiah really seemed to enjoy every bit of it. He of course loved the guests as well as being the center of attention. He thoroughly enjoyed the balloons and the cake, and he really liked opening presents. He had gotten very adept at present-opening over Christmas, so he just ripped right through the paper. I think the small party was just stimulating enough for him without being over-stimulating, and that night he slept like...a baby. Actually, he truly did sleep like a baby because he was teething, so he woke up a few times. I don't know why that phrase is supposed to mean sleeping soundly. Babies wake up in the night, people! The next morning, though, he had tooth number eight to start off his new year. Hooray!

What a difference a year makes...

2007-01-30T19:20:00.000-08:00

Today is Isaiah's birthday, and it has been an amazing day. I have been able to watch Isaiah bless people all day long with his beauty, happiness, and innocence. I feel like God has given me a glimpse of the amazing things he will do through Isaiah's life.

We began our day by going to the Mall of America because I wanted to buy Isaiah's some books for his birthday. We got there before the stores opened so I could walk a few laps around and window shop while Isaiah rode in his stroller. After we had walked for a while and the stores began to open, I stopped to sit on a bench and play with Isaiah for a few moments. Soon a young girl came up to me and began to smile at Isaiah. She was shy for only a little while before she began to talk to me and told me she was pregnant herself. She said she was scared because she didn't have a job and she wasn't sure what she was going to do. She said that she didn't have anyone to talk to about how scared she was or about all of the changes going on in her life. Isaiah flirted with her and giggled while she played peek-a-boo with him, and I could see her apprehension changing into excitement. She told me she was also having a boy and that she had always loved children, and I told her I was sure she would be a great mom. I don't think she needed me to tell her that, though, because of the instant bond she had with Isaiah.

Later that day, Isaiah and I were in a waiting room reading some of the new books he had gotten for his birthday. A Somali woman came up to us and began to play with Isaiah. After a while she asked me how old he was and his name. Then she told me she had a daughter who passed away when she was Isaiah's age. I had absolutely no idea what to say, but the woman seemed content to just play with Isaiah, who showed off some of his wobbly walking skills and flashed her quite a few dazzling smiles. She laughed at the thin, sparse hair that stuck up on his head and touched his soft cheeks, and before we left she gave him a quick hug.

I was so touched that my baby could bring so much joy to people who need it in ways that an adult could never do. I feel my own anger, fear, stress, sadness and pettiness melt away when I look at Isaiah on a daily basis, and now I'm lucky enough to know that I can share my most amazing gift with other people in need. There is some kind of ethereal beauty found only in the face of a baby.

Toddling along

2007-01-28T07:33:00.000-08:00

Isaiah took his first steps all by himself this week. He had taken single, unaided steps before now, but after he took one, he would slowly sink his butt down until it was safely resting on the floor and then crawl the rest of the way. He had also spent many previous hours walking behind his push-a-truck-thing that my parents got him for Christmas. In fact, we spent one entire afternoon walking up and down the hallway and around in circles in the living room while I pretended to chase him even though I was just holding him p by the back of the overalls. He loves being chased.

But now (as of January 25th) Isaiah walks by himself. He will walk anywhere from three to ten steps at a time, depending on how fun the toy looks that you are tempting him with. Michael and I spent one evening running the poor little guy ragged by standing him up and then holding my cell phone up in the air so he would walk to it. Back and forth and back and forth. Isaiah didn't seem to mind at all because he will do just about anything for my cell phone, plus we cheered and clapped our hands for him every time he walked. The funny thing was, he didn't seem to realize he was walking at all until we were a good ten minutes into the game.

So now that Isaiah toddles, I am wondering if I am supposed to call him a toddler. When is the cut off for being a baby? When he turns one year old? When his car seat can face forward? When he grows some hair? When his mother is ready? I'm pretty sure it's not the last one, because then he probably wouldn't graduate into toddler-hood until his mid-twenties.

We visited the Conservatory yesterday to look at the orchid show they had. For a short while (about three minutes) Isaiah sat in his stroller, but he really wanted to get down and move around. So we let him out and held his hands as he walked up and down the rows of people. He didn't want to stay still for a single minute, so we kind of ended up cutting in line quite a few times, but no one seemed to mind. They were all very polite and commented on what a cute little guy Isaiah was. Isaiah was pretty proud of his walking skills and showed his repletion by shrieking happily at the top of his lungs to everyone who looked at him.

He also made a very cute friend named Robin. She was about three or four, and she came right up and started talking to Isaiah. He was absolutely smitten. He flirted and smiled and giggled at her, and I got a bit of a preview of what my coy little buy will do around girls when he's older. I just have to say - watch out, ladies, because he's good. Robin was absolutely adorable too, and at one point when I said to Isaiah, "Say 'Hi Robin!'" Robin obediently said, "Hi Robin!" Then she looked at me and said, "Hey, his name's not Robin." I tried to explain that I was telling Isaiah to say hi to her, but I completely understand why she got confused. After all, there was no way he was going to actually say hello to her, so I was being the silly one, not her. Thanks Robin!

Flashbacks

2007-01-14T18:47:00.000-08:00

This weekend, Michael and I bought party supplies for Isaiah's first birthday. We decided to go with a penguin theme from the movie Happy Feet since Isaiah loves his singing penguin so much. I now have a dilemma, though, because I had already chosen an adorable choo-choo train cake to make, but it really doesn't fit the theme anymore. Anyway, as I faced the reality of Isaiah being nearly one year old, I began to reflect on how much I had changed in the past year. So often, I only look at all of the changes Isaiah has gone, through (and there are a multitude of them) so it was rather shocking to realize how different I am now.

I am much less selfish than I was before Isaiah was born. I am less protective of my time and more willing to give up "me" time for time with Isaiah. Although, this isn't as altruistic as it may seem; there aren't many things I can do with my time more fulfilling or enjoyable than being with my baby. I am still just as protective of my time with my family, and I need some time with just Michael and Isaiah and no one else every day. I am also less concerned about what other people think of me. Honestly, it doesn't really matter if I go out looking like the Wicked Witch of the West because I know Isaiah (and Michael, for that matter) think I am incredibly beautiful, and no bad hair day can change that.

I am, in fact, more confident in quite a few ways. Despite several mistakes and mishaps this past year, I would consider myself a good mother, and if I can accomplish that I can take on quite a lot of what this world has to throw at me. Some days I feel very grown up for having gotten so far, but there are other days when I feel like I'm just a little girl playing house. I'm not sure I can handle all the responsibility of raising a person in this world, and part of me just wants my own mom to come in and take care of it all. But that's a gift Isaiah has given me, too. Because of him, I have come to understand more fully how dependent I am on God. I know there is no way I can do my job without him holding me in his arms. I also have come closer to understanding how much God loves me. Michael and I were talking to one another and agreed that although we love one another deeply, the love we have for our child is different - less selfish perhaps, or more protective. We know that we both love Isaiah in a way he will never be able to return, and we wouldn't expect it of him. Having Isaiah has given me so much. He has allowed me to mature into an adult, and I still get to be a child with him every day.

As long as I can remember, I have assumed I would be a mother and have always wanted to be a mother. Actually being a mother, though, is more wonderful and heartbreaking than I ever would have imagined. I love Isaiah so much it hurts, and this past year with my treasured baby and my beloved husband has been the best year of my life. Thank you, Isaiah, for giving me so much.

Oh, and I solved the problem of the birthday cake - I'll just pretend it's the Polar Express and that I'm a birthday-theme genius for thinking of it. (Hey, if I can't really be a genius, I should at least be able to pretend once in a while.)

I won't go without leaving some updates about Isaiah has been changing. He now goes to sleep at night without nursing. More accurately, I nurse him and then hand him to Michael before he falls asleep. Then Michael rocks Isaiah to sleep and tucks him in. Michael is quite the pro at this, and Isaiah has picked up on it more easily and quickly than either of us thought. Even though it sometimes cuts into Michael's free time at night, I think he likes the trade. He gets to spend more cuddle time with Isaiah, and he enjoys being able to get him to sleep more quickly than I can.

Isaiah has also taken the next step towards walking. My parents gave him a large toy truck he can push and walk behind, and he loves to play with it. One afternoon he walked around in circles in our living room until he literally dropped to his knees in exhaustion. Every time he walks past someone, he flashes a proud little grin that just makes my heart melt.

Finally, Isaiah has really learned the concept of playing games. One game he loves is to be chased down the hallway. He'll start crawling towards the door, and then either Michael with call out "Isaaaaaiahhh!" That's when he knows it's on. He wiggles and crawls and shrieks and laughs as we pound our feet on the ground and catch up to him. If we take too long getting to him and tickling his feet, he will turn around and look at us as if to say, "Hurry up, slowpokes, I'm getting away." Another game he loves to play takes place at the dinner table. He has veggie puffs (sort of like Cheerios) that he enjoys eating, and sometimes he likes to feed one or two to me as well. It's pretty cute because he sticks his entire hand in my mouth to put in the veggie puff, and sometimes gets distracted by my tongue, which he then tries to pull out. The game I'm referring to, though, is when he offers me a veggie puff with a sly look on his face. Then he puts his entire hand inside my mouth but doesn't drop the puff. Then when I'm about to close my mouth, he whips out his hand and eats the veggie puff himself. Then he laughs at me and does it again. As long as we do this game with veggie puffs I'll be fine, but if we start doing it with M&M's, I might get a little cranky. Nevertheless, I love seeing his little mind work as he thinks of his schemes, and I love having a preview of the little rascal I am going to have on my hands.

Nail and Snails and Puppy-dog Tails

2006-12-28T14:35:00.000-08:00

We have been spending our week in South Dakota celebrating Christmas with my family, and it has been an incredibly tumultuous trip. We flew out a few days before Christmas, and since it was Isaiah’s first flight, I packed one heck of a carry-on bag. It was filled with food and juice and books and toys and treats and diapers and every other type of baby paraphernalia I could fit in. He slept the entire flight. Whatever, though, I would much rather be over prepared than under prepared.

When we landed, my family got a chance to coo over Isaiah, which was much overdue since we hadn’t seen them in much too long. Then it was a simple drive home, which wasn’t of course simple at all because my college degree wasn’t good enough to figure out the car seat. Finally, though, we got to the house and Isaiah met Sparky the dog. It was love at first sight. Isaiah squealed in delight and stayed up way past his bedtime just playing with the puppy. Sparky was a little afraid of Isaiah at first, but it soon became mutual adoration. Later, I realized that Isaiah and Sparky were destined to become best friends because of all the things they have in common. They are both very cute and sweet, they both love Elmo (Sparky has his own Elmo puppet he sleeps with,) they both move around on four legs, they both love cheese, and they both give very slobbery kisses.

In fact, Sparky and Isaiah became so attached that Sparky designated himself as Isaiah’s bodyguard. Once when I was tickling Isaiah, Sparky became quite concerned that I was hurting him, so he came over and gave me the evil eye. Once I had stopped and Isaiah crawled away, Sparky brought over his own Elmo toy and dropped it at Isaiah’s feet. Now that’s love.

Isaiah had a wonderful Christmas day. He loved opening presents and playing with wrapping paper and being surrounded by fun new toys and people who love him. He got so good at opening gifts, he even tried to open Michael’s. His favorite present was a singing, dancing penguin named Gloria. Every time she sings in her cutesy high-pitched voice, Isaiah breaks out this goofy grin that makes him look like a teenager in love. I wouldn’t be surprised if Isaiah’s first word was “Gloria”

After a while in South Dakota, Isaiah’s sleeping schedule began to suffer, and that combined with a bad cold and the arrival of tooth number seven resulted in some crying boughts. One in particular really bothered me because there was nothing I could do to comfort him, and he cried for almost a half-hour. Finally, Michael got him to fall asleep by cradling him while he walked up and down the stairs. The bouncy movements combined with Michael’s deep, calming voice were exactly what Isaiah needed. It made me so grateful to have such a wonderful husband.

Before we left, Isaiah got his first bad bump on the head. He had a close encounter of the foos-ball-table kind, and he left a big bruise right on his eyebrow. I spent the night trying to put ice on it as I nursed him to sleep, and although the swelling went down quite a bit, it was still a noticeable reminder of what happened, as well as a foreshadowing, I think of all the bumps to come once he starts walking.

I was very sad to leave, since I miss my family so much, but I realized that by the end of the vacation, Isaiah needed his home and routine back. I packed another gigantic carry on bag with even more baby goodies than the one before, and Isaiah slept from take-off to landing.

The first day of Christmas

2006-12-17T14:34:00.000-08:00

Isaiah has now had his first taste of Christmas, and I think he likes it. We celebrated Christmas with Michael’s family early because we will be in South Dakota with my family over the 25^th. Isaiah had a wonderful time trying out all of the furniture in Rod and Lesley’s house to see if it was good for standing on, and he even chose one large cardboard box full of ornaments as his favorite to pound on with his little hands. I think he’s going to be a drummer in a rock band when he grows up. He even stops drumming every once in a while to engage in some head bobbing, and screaming.

When it came time for presents, Isaiah seemed pretty happy that I was actually encouraging him to rip paper. I’m not sure if he will then assume that I want him to rip apart all of the paper that he finds, but I’m not too worried because he already does it anyway, so it’s not like we’re regressing. Then, when he realized that there was a toy inside the box he wasn’t even sure which one to choose. Paper or toy…it’s a pretty tough call. He did eventually choose the toy, though, which ended up being wise because I would have simply taken the paper away when he began to eat it. Isaiah loved everything he got, and has been playing with his toys and wearing his cute clothing ever since. I thought it was a perfect Christmas to start off with (we’ll be celebrating three times this year) because it was small and cozy and laid back so he wasn’t stressed out or over stimulated.

After the Christmas celebration, we went to our friends the Goldbergs to celebrate Charlie’s birthday. Isaiah had a wonderful time eating cake and pounding on the piano keys and squealing at the cats and the dog and just generally being the center of attention. He really does enjoy people, and I think it will be so odd to watch him go through stranger anxiety. Right now he will happily go to anyone who looks friendly, flirt with any girl in eyeshot, and entertain a crowd without a second thought. If his personality remains the same at all, he is going to be quite the party animal when he grows up.

Isaiah has also begun to creep along the couches, which he seems to enjoy doing. He doesn’t really seem to have a destination in mind. He just side-steps down the couch one way, and then back up the other way. Sometimes if there is something interesting on the floor, he will squat to touch it, but then it’s back to the main task of pacing.

Barriers are for wussies

2006-12-09T12:59:00.000-08:00

Isaiah is becoming an expert stander. He can push himself up to a stand on almost any piece of furniture in the house, or even a toy or box that stands six inches off the ground. He plants his hands on the box, shoots his teeny butt up high in the air, and then slowly raises his torso to an upright position. He doesn't even need to hang on to things for balance much of the time. What a smarty. Now, though, Michael and I need to find yet another way to rearrange our furniture so Isaiah isn't in such danger all the time. The bookcase heavy laden with things ready to topple down, the bed that seems to be way too high off the ground, the last remaining outlets that I haven't covered yet, everything dangerous seems to be calling to Isaiah. One of the smartest things I did when we moved in, though, was to put only baby-friendly things into the cupboards that Isaiah could reach, such as tupperware or pots and pans. All of our cleaning supplies are in the pantry on a shelf I can barely reach. I figure that when Isaiah is taller than I am, he should be mature enough to handle toilet bowl cleaner. Then again, I'm very short, so that may be much sooner that I originally anticipated.

Michael and I have also constructed a crude barrier out of pillows and blankets between the living room and the dining room. Our reasoning is twofold; one, the carpeted living room is softer for falling down upon than the hardwood dining room, and two the Christmas tree is in the dining room. Soon, though, I will ship off many of the tempting packages that are sitting under the tree, and then hopefully it will be less of a draw. Actually, I'm glad he notices and likes the tree so much, because really that's the entire point of it.

I'm not sure how useful the barrier will be soon because Isaiah is beginning to climb right over it. It wouldn't be such a problem except for the fact that once he climbs on top of it, he descends face first into the floor. Poor little guy. Apparently, barriers are going to be more of a yellow light than a red light for Isaiah. I guess it's good that I'm learning this early on.

Oh, and for anyone who worried, Isaiah's swollen, purple gum around his tooth healed just fine. Michael and I were very careful not to let Isaiah bump his mouth on anything, since he probably didn't realize his gums would be extra tender, and then one morning, the painful looking lump was gone and we could see a sliver of tooth coming through.

Giving Thanks for my baby

2006-12-02T13:28:00.000-08:00

Isaiah has finally become aware of the Christmas tree that has been up since before Thanksgiving. He didn't care much about it for the first week, but then I put lots of shiny, wrapped presents underneath and let him touch some of the delicate ornaments. Now, my entire day is wrapped up in keeping Isaiah from eating gifts or pulling the tree onto himself. I'm so glad he loves it. I am already getting excited for Christmas and all the traditions we will have as a family. I am singing Christmas songs to Isaiah every day and dressing him up as a Santa baby, and even donning the Santa hat myself so he can pull it off and put the puff-ball in his mouth. We have read the story of Jesus being born at bedtime every night, and I'm thinking about baking a birthday cake for Jesus later in the month. Part of me feels a little silly for doing so much this Christmas even though Isaiah won't have any memories of it when he's older. My hope though, as he looks at the bright sparkling Christmas tree, is that he will grow up with the feeling that this world is beautiful and magical, and that he is loved very much.

Thanksgiving went extremely well, which was a surprise since Isaiah woke up early that morning with a fever. We were very worried because he usually doesn't sleep well when he's around lots of people. He's too interested in being a part of the action. We celebrated with Michael's family and got to visit with so many people we haven't seen in quite a while. Isaiah was passed around and got plenty of 'oohs' and 'aahs' from everyone. He got to see a few cats up close and he read lots of books. As predicted, he didn't sleep, and we paid for it on the drive home. We had a two and a half hour drive, and Isaiah cried for much of it. He still had a fever, hadn't had his regular naps, was stressed out, and didn't nurse well all day, so we pretty much expected the crying. Still, it was a terrible experience to have him in the car seat crying inconsolably. I feel so bad for mothers why have to undergo that ordeal on a regular basis, because it makes you feel so helpless and horrible. I knew what he really wanted was to be held, but we had already stopped twice, and we had two extra passengers, so we felt like we just had to keep going. Finally, though, he cried himself to sleep in the car, and when we finally arrived at home, Michael and I snuggled with him all night long. By the next morning, he was as right as rain. The next day Laura and I went to to hit some sales, and I bought him an adorable little Christmas outfit. That night he modeled it for some girls I had over and they were all properly smitten.

Isaiah has worked up to the next step of cleaning my floors. Before, he just crawled around and tried to eat every little speck of food or dirt in the carpet (which he still does) but now he also like to use my Swiffer carpet sweeper. He's fascinated with pushing it around and watching me push it around. He chews on the handle and bounces it off the floor. It makes me wonder if I'm going to have one of those helpful little toddlers who wants to do chores with me to be sweet, but in reality it takes five times as long when he's helping, but I always say yes anyway because it's so beautiful to watch him.

Isaiah attended his first party today. Our little friend Collin had his first birthday party today, and it was a ton of fun. Michael and I were a little worried about Isaiah on the way there because he hadn't taken a morning nap and we didn't know how long he would last. In the car his eyes looked drowsy and he was a little crabby. Once we got there, though, his eyes popped open wide and he was just a little party animal. It figures. After all several of his favorite things were at this particular party: people, balloons, other babies, more people, and people. He even got to eat a little cake with frosting. I have a feeling his vegetable dinner tonight just isn't going to taste quite as good. At the party I realized that Isaiah's first birthday is only two months away. Everything has rushed by so quickly, and I feel that I am being left in the dust. Every milestone is something I am so excited for and yet still dread just a little because I feel I'm not ready. Isaiah, I'm so proud of you for growing up, but must you do it so quickly?

He is getting his sixth tooth in right now, and this morning Michael and I noticed that his gum is swollen and bruised looking right where the tooth is coming in. It looks so incredibly painful, and light it might just start bleeding at any moment, but Isaiah is as content as ever. Every time he smiles his sweet little smile, though, all is see is a big purple lump. Poor baby. Hopefully, though, his tooth will come through quickly and his gum will recover.

Isaiah Robot

2006-11-17T10:25:00.000-08:00

My secret plan that I have had ever since Michael and I started dating is now coming to fruition. I absolutely love cats, and I have always wanted to own a cat as an adult, maybe even two. Michael, however, is allergic to cats and consequently doesn't care for them that much. Despite all of my many schemes and different ways of pleading he has yet to concede and buy a cat for me, so I have been counting on my future children to help out. My secret plan is that they will all love cats as much as I do, and with the group of us begging and giving Michael puppydog-eye looks, he will give in and get a cat. Luckily for me, I didn't even have to train Isaiah to like cats, he inherited my love for them right from the get go. Our friends, the Goldbergs, have two cats Isaiah has interacted with a few times. He is fascinated by their whiskers, their tails, their eyes, everything. Those cats are so patient with him, too. One of them even docilely laid down next to Isaiah while Isaiah pulled on his fur. Then, on Sesame Street, Elmo did a little special on cats. Isaiah grinned the whole time and squealed at the T.V. He waved his arms and kicked his legs, and made me such a happy mom. Look out Michael, you're outnumbered!

A small part of me has wanted that irobot Roomba for quite a while. It's the tiny vacuum cleaner that scoots around on its own and vacuums without you having to lift a finger. Isaiah must have sensed my desire for one of these because he has become my own little Roomba. He crawls around on the carpet and diligently finds every tiny piece of lint or spilled popcorn or dirt and picks them up for me. Unfortunately, he then eats whatever he finds, so I find myself slowly crawling after him much of the day, constantly picking tiny pieces of garbage out of his fingers before he can get them into his mouth. I don't even get much respite if I vacuum more often and have dirt-free carpets, because Isaiah has learned to pick out actual pieces of the carpet and pop them into his mouth when I'm not looking.

Isaiah is now an expert at pulling himself up on furniture and standing. He doesn't even need a piece of furniture every time. He will sometimes just put his hands on the floor and then straighten his legs out until his tiny little bottom is sticking up high in the air. Then he slowly moves his hands closer to his body until he can get to the point where he pulls up with his upper body into a standing position. Then he immediately falls because he had no balance. Still, it's pretty impressive to watch. His favorite thing to use as a standing support is an upside down laundry basket, but he can also easily use a dining room chair I have covered in padding and blankets, or the couch, or even my leg. The cutest thing is that when he stands up, he nods his head up and down like a little rockstar. It's wonderful to see how proud he is of himself. Yesterday, he even stood for a few seconds without support by the powers of his own balance. His downfall was when he decided to wildly wave his arms back and forth just for the fun of it.

I have discovered that Isaiah is now fascinated with little spaces. Most kids are, but I didn't realize it began this early. He loves to be in little caves that I make out of blankets, or under and upside-down laundry basket. His goal for the past few days has been to fit himself under the couch. Unfortunately, he can't even fit his head under the couch, but he keeps trying. He's certain there is a wondrous, magical world under there, so he's not giving up. The other day I made a little blanket cave for him on his bed right before nap time. We read stories under the blankets, and I pretended to not be able to find him until he shouted out to me. It was a blast. It got me excited for future blanket forts in the living room and games of hide-and-go-seek. Sometimes I forget that I don't just have a baby - I have a fun little boy waiting to grow up and share years of play with me.

Michael and I are trying to get Isaiah to go to sleep in new and exciting ways. Mainly, not nursing to sleep. I don't really mind nursing him to sleep 90% of the time. But it would be nice to have another option once in a while. Also, it would be nice for Michael to experience Isaiah falling asleep for him. So, a few evenings when Isaiah was very, very tired, Michael put on the sling and walked around with Isaiah in the dark listening to Baby Einstein Lullaby Classics. The first time he tried it, Isaiah fell asleep in his arms like a little angel, but we haven't had the same success again. I know it takes a lot of work and consistency, but I also know how frustrating and sad it must be for Michael to hold the baby he loves so much and listen to him cry because he just wants to nurse to sleep. I'm so thankful for how involved Michael is with Isaiah, though. Right now I can hear him upstairs singing in a ridiculous falsetto voice to Isaiah, and he's been giving Isaiah baths almost exclusively lately. He's so good at playing with his son and comforting him and feeding him and giving me a good, long break when I've had a rough day. The other night, while he was squirting Isaiah in the bathtub with his rubber ducky, Michael said he couldn't understand why some fathers wouldn't want to be involved in their kids' lives. "I mean, don't get me wrong, you're a lot of work, buddy," he said to Isaiah, "but what else could I spend my time on that's as good as you?"

Milk please

2006-11-12T15:19:00.000-08:00

Isaiah can talk! No really - he can say something in sign language, and I'll give you one guess as to what it is. It's his absolute favorite thing in the world - milk. He signs "milk" so expertly, opening and closing his fist just like milking a cow. I've learned some very important things from Isaiah just through his ability to say this single word. Namely, I've learned that Isaiah thinks about milk more than I had ever imagined. One afternoon Isaiah was napping when I heard him stir on the baby monitor, so I hurried into the room to get there before he woke up completely. Before he even opened his eyes or began to call out to let me know he was awake, his little chubby fist shot up into the air, and he began to sign "milk." He also signs "milk" while he is drinking milk, when he wants to be drinking milk, when he has finished drinking milk, when milk is on his mind, when he is happy which reminds him of drinking milk, and when he thinks milk might be a good conversation starter with a stranger.

I also thought Isaiah had signed "potty" the other night. I was trying and trying to get him to sleep, but he wouldn't submit. Suddenly, he sat right up in bed and started patting his diaper, our sign for "potty." At first, I was bewildered as to what he was doing, but then I realized it was the potty sign and excitedly took him into the bathroom. As soon as he sat down on the toilet seat, he started crying angrily at me (I guess it was pretty cold compared the his warm pajamas) and looked at me as if to say, "Mom - why would you bring me into the cold bathroom and sit me on this cold toilet for no good reason." Apparently, he was just signing "I'm awake, Mommy, and there's no way you can make me go to sleep." I guess I didn't realize that looked remarkably like the sign for "potty."

Isaiah also says a few verbal words, such as "hi" and "dada" even a "mama" once in a while. I like to pretend he knows what he is saying even though it's pretty apparently he doesn't. He often impresses strangers by saying "hi," though. "Hi!" Isaiah will brightly say to ladies at the supermarket. "Well hello," they reply, waving their fingers in response. "Milk!" Isaiah signs back at them. This makes Isaiah look exceptionally smart and me a very impressive looking mom, so I don't tell them he is talking about milk and not waving. I just let them be impressed.

Even though Isaiah usually doesn't say "dada" in Daddy related contexts, he definitely knows why Michael is. When Michael gets home from work and I hear the back door opening. I get Isaiah ready by standing on the couch so we can see Michael the first second he comes into the living room. Then, when he pops his head in the doorway, Isaiah shrieks in delight, waves his arms, and jumps up and down while smiling and laughing. There is no better way to elevate your self esteem than seeing the pure joy from you baby at seeing you.

Speaking of Michael's job, he just accepted a great new job as a full time designer with a company he loves. We went out Friday night to Olive Garden to celebrate the good news. Isaiah was very well behaved and spent much of the evening turning many waitresses into puddles of baby love. He got so much attention in the restaurant, I was very thankful he is too young to let it go to his head. We were seated near a table of ladies who watched him all night, and another couple came over to tell us how adorable he is. I have to say, he did look pretty cute that night. I had packed baby food for him, which he enjoyed, but the waitress also brought a plate of fettuccine without any sauce for him to play with and nibble on. Let me tell you, Isaiah with a piece of fettuccine hanging out of his mouth is a sight worth seeing.

Isaiah has begun pulling himself up to a stand on pieces of furniture. It's so exciting and nerve wracking to watch him use all the strength in his pudgy arms and shaky legs to wobbly stand, knowing that he has a better chance of falling than balancing, and to nervously watch his tender head bob dangerously close to sharp corners of chairs and tables. I hold my breath every time he tries, ready to run up to him in case his smacks his chin on the chair leg or plops too hard onto the hardwood floors. When he actually makes it, though, and stands on his own. He is so proud of himself, and he lights up because he knows he has just accomplished something very neat. He usually wiggles so much in delight that he falls right down again, but it's a good start.

As we sat in Olive Garden, I noticed a few older women who I'm sure were mothers, and possibly even grandmothers looking at Isaiah and at me. The look on their faces was one I have seen so many times since Isaiah was born. Enjoy it. They silently tell me. Enjoy every moment with your baby. So often I have been told that "it just flies by," "they grow up too fast," and "it seems like yesterday." It's easy to let each new admonishment to enjoy the present slip by as a cliche. But I know already that he has grown so quickly, and while I enjoy every new day, I miss yesterday. I want to cut out all of the unnecessary busy work in my life, and all of the buzzing distractions so I can slow down and concentrate on my baby. Everything he does is so amazing, every green speck in his blue eyes is so dazzling, every step he takes away from me is so exciting and heartbreaking, and so I try to enjoy every moment. I know I will one day be one of those older mothers, and hopefully even an older grandmother, telling new moms to enjoy it.

Isaiah woke up with a cold in the middle of the night Friday night/Saturday morning around 4 a.m. At first, I didn't understand why he insisted on nursing at that time of night and why he wouldn't be consoled, and I was rather frustrated at being awakened at such an awful time. As soon as I heard his sniffles and choked breathing, though, I felt terrible for even being frustrated. We walked around the house a while until the mucus was bounced out of his throat, then I nursed him while sitting up in bed so his could sleep in an upright position. That seemed to help a lot. The next day, he was very pleasant even though I know he didn't feel good at all. He's such a good sport when he's sick. He makes me look like a cry baby in comparison. How did such a tough and mellow baby come from me? I'm pretty blessed.

Elmo Slippers

2006-11-01T09:42:00.000-08:00

Isaiah has needed a little more mommy time this past week or two. I don't know if it's because of a new tooth coming in or because he is just going through a separation anxiety stage. However, when, in the past I have been able to set him down for a while to play while I clean, he doesn't really like that anymore. He has made it perfectly clear that he wants to be held by me, played with by me, touched and tickled by me, and completely focused on by me. Is this draining? Nope. Truthfully, it's been great. I love spending all day with my sweet little guy and knowing that I can be there when he needs me. This is why I stay home with him - not so I can have clean blinds or an organized shoe closet, but so I can hug him all day long and crawl around with him and let him know that I am there to take care of him and keep him safe. I am so grateful every time he lets me know he needs me, because I need him right back.

Isaiah has begun to really like rice cakes. He also has apparently decided that I would like to eat rice cakes with him. Unfortunately, I don't really care for soggy rice cakes and someone else has slobbered on. But since he offered so sweetly, I thought I should at least feign interest. So, I nibbled on his sticky little fingers and smacked my lips and said "mmm, mmm." He wasn't fooled, though, and continued to try and give me more rice cake. Finally, after he realized I wasn't going to take his rice cake the easy way, he pulled open the top of my shirt and dropped the rice cake inside. Problem solved. Except, of course, for the chunk of soggy rice cake in my shirt.

I read the blog of another mom of a baby whom I have never met. I really enjoy hearing about how her little girl is growing up and the challenges and joys she faces. It struck me yesterday that we have so little in common. She lives down in California, is around ten years older than I, seems to have very different political and religious beliefs, and of course she is a complete stranger. Yet, we both love our children so dearly, and we have both experienced the heightened fragility and deep emotions of motherhood. So, despite our differences, I feel very close to this woman so far away, and in turn I feel a strange closeness to all mothers I see around me. If I see a woman in the grocery store with a baby in her cart, although I know nothing about her, it's a good bet she feels the same ineffable love for her child that I feel for mine. It's also wonderful to remember that my mother (and father) felt this love for me and that Michael's parents felt this love for him.

One last note: Isaiah falls more and more in love with Elmo every day. We bought him Elmo slippers, and he is so happy when he wears them. He pats Elmo's nose, pulls on his fur, taps his big, plastic eyes, and constantly turns around when he's crawling to make sure Elmo is following. Sure enough, Elmo is always right behind Isaiah.

Trickortreatapillar

2006-10-25T15:18:00.000-07:00

We went up to Buffalo for Halloween this year so Grandma and Grandpa Walz could show off their cute little caterpillar to all their friends. I love Isaiah's Halloween costume so much. It's so cute to see him inch around with little caterpillar legs and caterpillar bumps on his back. I would also mention how cute it is to see him scoot about with his fuzzy caterpillar antennae, but he never keeps them on. Some caterpillars are bald, right? Actually, he kept his hat on better than I expected, which was fortunate since it was so very cold.

I decided it would be appropriate for me to dress up as a butterfly to complement my little caterpillar, although apparently it has been suggested by some that I am too old to play dress up. Nonsense! Halloween is one of my favorite nights in this country because a bunch of stuffy, busy, serious Americans take time to throw one gigantic, nationwide costume party for no good reason. I plan on celebrating as long as I can. I also plan on using my children to vicariously celebrate by putting them into adorable costumes and taking lots of pictures of them. (See pictures included as evidence.) Michael dressed up as a burrito because you get a free burrito from Chipotle if you dress up as one on Halloween. He had a tin-foil cape and hat and shoes, and a heart on his shirt that said "I Love Chipotle." He received quite a few funny stares as he walked down the hallway at work, but the payoff was worth it when he received a round of applause at Chipotle along with his free burrito and soda.

There are many more photos of Isaiah in his caterpillar costume as well as Michael in his burrito costume on http://www.flickr.com/photos/59148789@N00/

Happy Halloween everyone!

Work it, baby!

2006-10-18T09:40:00.000-07:00

I had a tough night this week. On Saturday I was trying to get Isaiah to sleep. He had stayed up late on Friday and I didn't want to make it a habit, so I was determined to get him to bed on time. Isaiah, however, had other plans. He fell asleep but woke up again after 10 minutes, completely refreshed from his catnap and ready to nurse. So, we nursed and nursed and nursed and nursed. I was getting so very frustrated because all I wanted to do was get out of bed and spend some time with Michael before it was time for us to go to sleep. Finally, after two hours of laying in the dark with Isaiah nursing and me wishing to get up, a thought ran through my tired, cranky head. I am sick of this. I am sick of getting pinched with tiny, sharp fingernails, sick of having my bladder kicked every morning, and sick of being sucked on by a tiny, albeit cute, milk vampire. But oh, my sweet Isaiah - I will never be sick of you. Your sweet, soft skin, your toothy smile, your eager hugs, your beautiful eyes. No matter how many hours I have to nurse you at night, no matter how many sinks full of your dishes I wash. I will never, never be sick of you. You are my little love, and worth every minute of trial.

Isaiah has begun to develop a rather interesting sense of humor. He thinks it's hilarious if I tickle him under his chin with my nose. It's even more funny, though, if I trick him into looking up so I can get to his unguarded little chubby neck. So, as he sits on the potty every morning to do his daily morning deed (he's astonishingly regular) I snap my fingers above his head or hold up a shiny object. Then, when he least expects it, I nuzzle him and he giggles with delight. Of course, he knows exactly what's going on the whole time he's looking up, and sometimes he gives it away with a premature smile or chuckle. So I'm not sure who's tricking who.

I'm trying to give Isaiah three regular meals a day. The transition from exclusive nursing up till now has been pretty slow and steady. After reading a baby cookbook recently, though, I realized how much he could really eat. Not just fruits and veggies cooked a little too long and pureed to oblivion, but cheese, meat, rice cakes, textures! Oh joy! Honestly, Isaiah's meals are much more exciting for me than for him. It's a good thing he puts up with me. Oh, and his new favorite food is organic yogurt with apples and oat cereal. Mmmmm.

Isaiah's charms were put to the test this week. I went to the Hennepin County District Court Service Center to contest a parking ticket we got for expired tabs. I figured we had half a chance because we had actually purchased new tabs but they were sent to our old address. Unfortunately, I went to the wrong place at first and ended up being a half hour late for my appointment with the clerk. At that point, I assumed there was no chance they would waive the fee for us since I had stood them up. But as soon as I got there, the woman at the help desk saw Isaiah in his cute little overalls and waved me to the front of the line. Then, I got in with the clerk right away who thought Isaiah had the most beautiful eyes and was such a good baby. Isaiah smiled at him and batted his long eyelashes while in my head I cheered, Work it Isaiah, work it! The ticket was cleared before I had even explaining the entire situation. Yes!

Isaiah has been wrinkling up his nose a puckering his lips a lot lately. All at once, he looks very angry and like he has just smelled old fish. I'm not sure if he is doing this because he just learned how to make a new facial expression and wants to practice, or if his nose feels stuffed up, or if he's angry, or if he's is smelling some old fish I can't smell. Whichever the case, he usually thinks it's pretty funny if I make the face back at him and snort a little.

Isaiah's Halloween costume is done, and while I really want to post a picture of him in it, I think I should wait until Halloween so everyone can get the full effect. Just be prepared...it's adorable.

Tickle Me Isaiah

2006-10-15T17:10:00.000-07:00

Isaiah now has four teeth which you can see in some adorable pictures we have taken. It's amazing how so few teeth can change his face so dramatically. One of his favorite pastimes is feeling his new teeth with his fingers or his tongue or his cheeks. He will suck his cheeks in like a fish and look all around, wondering why I am laughing so hard. He is also figuring out how to use them to eat some very soft foods, like cantaloupe or Daddy's fingers. Actually, he doesn't bite much at all. Usually he only does it when he's very excited and forgets to be gentle.

I am amazed at how deliberate his actions are these days. Just today he was playing with Michael on the bed, and Michael had a ball balanced on the bridge of his nose. Isaiah knocked it off, and then he picked it up and tried to put it back on again. He has also began handing me things he think I will enjoy playing with, such as soft little toy sheep or shiny beads or dirty socks. He must have watched me doing laundry and reached the wrong conclusion. Nevertheless, I am always smitten by the fact that he wants to give me something, so I take the dirty socks happily.

Isaiah is also getting very proficient in moving around. He doesn't crawl on his hands and knees yet, but he's up on his elbows and knees. To be honest, I don't think he needs to be moving any faster than he already is. I have enough trouble keeping up with his. We have removed all the objects from every bottom shelf in the house and replaced them with stuffed toys. I have had to put cabinet locks on and have double-checked all of the sockets to make sure they are baby-proofed. Our home isn't going to get mistaken for a bachelor pad anytime soon.

I got called out the other day by Michael because of something I was doing without even realizing it. Every time Isaiah would get hurt or very upset and Michael was holding him and comforting him, I would take him out of Michael's arms to do it myself. Oops. Here I have one of the sweetest best husbands and dads in the world, and I pull a move like that. It's amazing how strong the urge to hold Isaiah is, though, when he is crying. If I hear or see him crying and he's not in my arms, I get fidgity and upset right along with him. I honestly didn't even realize how much I was taking Isaiah away from Michael until he gently pointed it out. It's like I become a mom-zombie (a mombie?) and I can't think until my baby is happy again.

Isaiah is doing so many new things everyday. About a week ago he began to think it was really funny when Michael or I would purse our lips together and make a 'camel spitting' sound. Then the other day, he did it himself, and he looked to us to see if we would laugh. He also gives more hugs and is mimicking our words. As we crawled into bed one night, Michael said, "Having Isaiah is like having a new toy everyday."

We broke out the warm clothing for Isaiah a few days ago and were surprised to find he still fit into his snowsuit. We bought the snowsuit from an auction while I was still pregnant thinking it would fit early on since it was labeled as "up to 3 months." Well, Isaiah is eight months old, and not exactly a small baby, so I'm not entirely sure what the manufacturers were thinking. I'm just happy we can get some use out if it because Isaiah + Snowsuit = Pretty Darn Adorable.

Eight Months of Cuteness

2006-09-30T13:38:00.000-07:00

Isaiah loves me oh-so-much. I can tell because his sweet little face lights up the moment he sees me in the morning, and his beautiful little eyes shine with love for me all day long. If I am out of sight for a little while, Isaiah will squeal with joy when I come back into view, and if I come over to pick him up, he will bounce up and down with his legs and hold out his arms to say "Hooray, my mommy is going to hold me." I am so blessed to have two boys who make me feel so beautiful and loved. Thanks Michael and Isaiah.

This last week on Facebook, I got a comment from an old high school friend whom I hadn't spoken to in years. "you're a mom???? oh man.. i remember the days in govt. class when you were telling me that you were never even going to get married..." I couldn't remember saying that, but I'm sure I did. I do remember in high school thinking that being married (much less having children) was such a far off thing that it was difficult to grasp. Kind of like trying to imagine living in a tree...in Kenya...with flower pots for feet. It was imaginable, but not very realistic at the time. Reading that comment made me realize how very long ago high school was and how different my life is now. It's odd to realize I'm growing up. (Although I still don't admit to being a grown up yet.)

Isaiah is beginning to really like Sesame Street - especially Elmo. I had the T.V. on the other day while we were playing with the Stack-o-Rings, and Isaiah would glance up once in a while to Ernie or the Count, but he was much more interested in how much of the blue ring would fit into his mouth. Then, Elmo came on the screen and started singing about how much he likes his crayon or something, and Isaiah immediately dropped the blue ring, stared enraptured at the screen. He screamed in delight, bounced up and down, and even tried to clap his hands. It was pretty cute because he can't clap at all. Mostly, he just waved them around. I took a ton of pictures of him just sitting there staring at the television because I loved watching him enjoy something I know I loved as a little girl.

We also watched Mr. Rogers' Neighborhood the other day. Actually, I watched it while I held him and rocked him to calm him down for his nap. It was a very surreal experience because I hadn't seen Mr. Rogers in so long. Then he began to talk to the kids about how much their parents love them, and he sang a song that ended with him saying that one day "you will grow up and sing to your children too." It was very odd to think that I might have heard Mr. Rogers sing that very song as a child.

Isaiah has been boycotting naps recently. I don't understand why because he likes napping, as far as I can tell. He will get very tired right around 10:15 on the dot, and I will take him potty, rock him and hold him, and put him down for some nursing and a nap. He usually falls alseep beautifully in ten minutes max, but then after I am gone, he wakes up in 15 minutes flat and starts playing. I have tried nursing him again, laying down with him for looooong stretches of time, leaving him in his bed to wear himself out, keeping him awake until 11:00, but his morning naps just aren't consistent anymore. Unless, that is, I hold him on my lap for the entire nap and let him grasp my thumb. Then he sleeps like a baby. I've realized that I can fight this (and probably lose since I can't force him to sleep when he doesn't want to) or just work with it. So, I now have quiet times for myself in the mornings from 10:30 until lunch most days where I just read a book and drink tea and let my baby sleep in my arms where he feels safe and content.

Michael got a new digital camera for his birthday, which isn't until October 3rd, but we were both very excited for the camera, so it has already been opened and used quite a bit. Of course, every picture (and one short video) feature Isaiah. I actually took a quick inventory of all the 500 or so pictures we have taken in the past eight months, and I think I could count nine that
didn't have Isaiah in them. Actually, that's kind of cheating because Isaiah is in the background of two of those. What can I say, though? Isaiah is more beautiful that anything, how could we not take hundreds of pictures of him. I really hope we are as good about taking pictures of our subsequent children, because I know that there are often twice as many pictures of the first baby than the rest of the kids, at least.

Isaiah is just about to break out some brand new top teeth to go along with his bottom teeth. I can see the white lines underneath the gums, and any day I expect to be able to feel the sharp little razor edge of one poking through. Even though he isn't fussing or complaining, I feel bad because his gums do look a little swollen. He's such a trooper. Oh, and he is eight months old today.

Sniffles and Snuggles

2006-09-23T12:30:00.000-07:00

My two boys are upstairs playing right now, and again I realize how incredibly lucky I am to have them both. I can hear Isaiah giggling through the vents as Daddy does something silly, and I remember the silly things my daddy did to make me laugh. He used to let me walk up his legs while he held onto my hands and then I would flip over onto my feet again. He also made big towers with me with special tubes you could roll marbles down, and we would watch the marbles descend together. He made snowmen with me in our backyard once even though I was too cold to finish after the head and I just watched him through the sliding glass doors. Michael remembers his dad playing "post office" with him and his siblings and laughing while trying not to get "stamped." How did we get so blessed? So many kids grow up without a dad in their lives, but our families are full of wonderful, invovled fathers. Thank you so much to our dads (and our moms of course) for giving us so much love, so that now we know how to love our baby.

We have all been sick this week with some sort of cold. My best guess is that our bodies were all shocked by the thirty degree drop in the temperature that occured early this week. No kidding - seventy-five to fourty-five in a matter of days. Isaiah was the first to contract the sniffles. I didn't really pay to much attention to it until it was bedtime, and then I realized that he couldn't lay down horizontally because the mucus would plug up his nose, so for several hours that night, I sat on the couch so that Isaiah could lean diagonally on me and sleep. I actually got some sleep that way too, but I wound up with a crick in my neck as a result. Then Michael got sick, but he had a nasty cough to go along with his cold, and finally I got a little sick, but not nearly as badly as my boys. I mostly had a sore throat, fatigue, and a headache. The one good thing about everyone being under the weather is that we all wanted the same things - warm liquids, early bedtimes, and lots of blankets. So for the past few days we have been doing a lot of snuggling and drinking tea (or milk for Isaiah.)

I am still unable to get a picture of Isaiah's teeth to put up. He is so good at covering them up with his tongue; you can almost forget they exist. That is, until he bites your finger with them. You really don't forget after that. He also makes new noises and faces because of his teeth. He sometimes puckers up like a fish or sucks on his tongue, and he says "da da" more often. Also, this morning he started making little trumpet sounds. He kept it up for a while because he enjoyed watching me laugh at him.

Well, I think I have found the food Isaiah dislikes the most. Garlic mashed potatoes with butter and herbs. We were having dinner the other night, and Isaiah didn't want to eat his carrots. He kept eyes our plates with steak and the aforementioned potatoes. Since I couldn't give him the steak, I put a teeny bite of potatoes on his spoon. Oh my goodness. He made a shocked and disgusted face, squeezed his eyes shut, and shook his head and hands and whole body in dismay. I think he thought I had fed him rat poisen. I felt awful, but I had no idea he would hate them that much. I mean, I liked them. After he recovered from the bite, though, he ate his carrots very happily. So, I guess it all worked out.

Lastly, Isaiah is getting better at scooting/crawling every day. He gets himself up onto his hands and knees now to go forward, but he usually flops down onto his belly and just scoots because it's faster for him at this point. We're planning on dressing him up as a caterpillar for Halloween this year because it will be so adorable to watch him inch around.

Chomp

2006-09-08T09:01:00.000-07:00

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.

Photo Bonanza

2006-08-23T08:36:00.001-07:00

For all of you who like the pictures of Isaiah better than anything I have to write on this blog (you know who you are) - this is your lucky day! There were so many pictures that we took in the last week or two that I wanted to include, and I couldn't choose because they are all so cute. Also, Michael put an entire series of photos of Isaiah in a cute green outfit on http://www.flickr.com/photos/59148789@N00/ I highly recommend going there because every single picture is adorable. Plus, there are several older pictures of Isaiah up as well.

This past week, Michael and I celebrated our 3rd anniversary! We were married August 16th, 2003. We had a wonderful dinner at Olive Garden while Grandma and Grandpa Walz and Uncle James took care of Isaiah. We had a great time eating slowly and talking to each other leisurly. We both agreed that it was so It's amazing to think we have been married three entire years. Then again, we've gotten quite a bit accomplished in the past three years. Michael switched from one school to another, graduated, and got a job as a graphic designer; I graduated from the U, we have moved three times and, of course, we had a baby. I'm guessing we have packed ten years of living into our three wonderful years of marriage. Talk about life in the fast lane. (I'm pooped.)

Speaking of pooped, Isaiah sits on the toilet himself now. Michael and I bought an insert-type thing that sits on top of the regular toilet seat to make it small enough for toddlers to sit on. It has handles, which Isaiah holds onto for balance, and it also has a spash guard, which the box advertised as a "deflector shield." We had a good laugh at that. It's so nice to be able to sit him down on the toilet instead of hold him above it. He's heavy and squirmy, and I just knew I was going to drop him in sooner or later if we didn't come up with a better solution. It's also perfect for cute pictures because the "deflector shield" covers up any indecency. What a handy deflector shield.

Isaiah not only sits up on the toilet, he sits up on the floor and in his high-chair. The only time he tips over is when he wants to grab something tantalizing that is off to one side. Then he pitches one way or another with no regard whatsoever for the hard ground or his delicate head. The doctor was quite impressed with his sitting control when we brought him in for his checkup. He had to get another round of shots, which was terrible, but he's all done with immunizations for six months. Everybody hates it when Isaiah gets poked, though. The nurse looks like she's going to cry, I'm about to cry, Isaiah is crying, and poor Michael is left trying to hold everyone together. I'm very thankful he didn't have to go to work that day, because Isaiah and I both need a lot of moral support. We have recovered now, thankfully, although Isaiah did have a low-grade fever the day after shots. He took a four-and-a-half hour nap that day snuggled on my lap. It was incredibly sweet, but I really had to go to the bathroom by the time he woke up.

According to the growth charts, Isaiah is in the 50th percentile for height and 55th for weight. That's absolutely amazing to me because he looks huge. Even the doctor said he didn't look like a 50% baby. Other people who have had children look at Isaiah and guess that he's 9 or 10 months old, and they always laugh when I say he's only six and say "what a healthy baby." It's a very nice comment for them to make, but I wouldn't mind even if they just said "what a fat little guy." I know it, and I like it.

Michael and I have started trying baby signs with Isaiah. The basic principle is that babies are able to use sign language to communicate long before they have the coordination to speak vocally, so parents simply introduce a few signs that babies can use until they are able to form words. Some researchers say that babies who learn to use signs actually develop larger vocabularies in the long run because the neurons associated with language development are connected earlier. Whether Isaiah will actually have a larger vocabulary or not, Michael and I are just excited by the prospect that we could know what he wants more easily. We've introduced the signs, 'mommy,' 'daddy,' 'milk,' 'sleep,' 'potty,' 'juice,' book,' 'bath,' 'more,' 'all done,' please,' and 'thank you' so far, Isaiah hasn't really noticed that we are signing as we talk to him, and we don't really expect anything to come of it for another three to six months, but it's still fun.

Actually, Isaiah has decided that his new way to communicate is through humming. Michael and I can't figure out exactly what the appeal of humming is, but Isaiah loves to do it. He will sort of bite down on his lower lip and smile as he hums a single note (sometimes a variation of two) for several minutes. I have a theory that he might be imitating me saying "mmm" as I feed him. I don't know why I do it, it's not like saying "mmm" or "yum" will make him more interested in the food, but I feel like I'm being proactive about it. He's actually eating more and more these days, and he's willing to try so many different foods. He has decided that he loves plums now, and if it takes me more than half a second between bites to get more onto the little spoon and into his mouth, I get impatient hums of protest. He's also keen on pears, avocado and green beens, and he's beginning to accept peas. This morning I decided to feed him some homemade applesauce along with his cereal, and he was pretty apathetic toward the mixture. So, I decided what the heck - I would spice it up a little, and I added just a pinch of cinnamon. He made the most delighted hums for the rest of the meal. My little gourmet.

I continually find it difficult to explain how much I love Isaiah, or how it feels to be a mother. I know that countless other mothers have felt the same way, and I probably don't need to go to such pains to try to describe it, because other parents reading this already know. Still, though, I have a great desire to put my feelings into words, to make them clear and to remember them vividly. I just wanted to end with this excerpt from an article Peter sent me on large families. The author (a mother for six) describes the way I feel so well.

(W)hy do we have children at all? So much is against the whole enterprise. Children cost too much money. They cost too much of ourselves. Children undo us. They show us how much and how little we're made of. They come, it often seems, only to break our hearts. And we let them. We invite it all. We admit perfect strangers through our doors and decide before we even know who they are to love them wildly, without condition, for as long as we live.

How do we account for this behavior? In the end, it is possible that our desire for children is a longing not to benefit ourselves, but to sacrifice ourselves; not to replicate ourselves, but to escape ourselves. For me, this longing hit at 28, while I was tunneling into the heart of the Congo on the back of an expedition truck. Suddenly, I was unutterably weary with my own small life and my endless requirements for fulfillment. I wanted the freedom to give my life away. I wanted an intimate, lifelong, indissoluble relationship with others, the kind of life that simultaneously sucks you dry and sustains you. I guessed that it would take nothing less than an infant to pry open my death-grip on self-determination. I did not know when we started our family a few years later that each birth would deliver into my arms an immeasurable weight of vulnerability and terror, but I guessed that parenting would bring a profligate, extravagant, others-centered life. As it has. But there has been a kind of death involved, make no mistake. "Unless a kernel of wheat falls to the ground and dies, it remains only a single seed," Jesus taught. "But if it dies, it produces many seeds." My ambitious dying life is far from over.

First Crush

2006-08-14T10:55:00.000-07:00

If anyone reading this now currently has a crush on someone, you will probably understand the feelings I'm describing. Otherwise, you might just have to think back to when you were completely infatuated with someone. I remember getting rather giddy and giggly when my crush was around, and I remember always hoping that he would notice me, or smile at me, or come over and talk to me. I remember not wanting him to leave and go home, and I definately remember acting silly. Now, much to my delight, I am Isaiah's very first crush. (Actually, I think I share the title of honor with Michael.) He grins whenever I enter the room, and actually screams with delight when I hold him. He wimpers when I set him down, and he full out cries if I leave him, even if only for a moment. If he wakes up in the morning, and I'm not there, he's heartbroken. But when he wakes up in the morning and sees my face or Michael's, he breaks out his most heart-melting, purely joyful, achingly beautiful smile for me to start my day with. And I absolutely love my baby's crush on me. I love it even if it means I have to distract him with 80 toys and PBS in order to get a quick bathroom break, and I love it even though I know it will go away. I know that someday, Isaiah will have a girlfriend (with his eyes, I don't think I'll be able to keep them away with a pointy stick), and one day a wife for him to be completely infatuated with. I know that my glamour will fade fairly soon in his eyes, and that of all the girls he notices, I probably won't even register on his radar as being a female. That's alright, though, because for now, Isaiah only has eyes for Michael and I, and I can always cherish the fact that I was his first crush.

This week included many more adventures in food. I started using the food grinder that some friends had given us, and I got to make baby-food plums, green beans, and pears with it. I was really excited to give Isaiah the plums, which was the first thing I tried with the food grinder. I had five plums in the fridge that I had let get extra ripe so they would be very sweet. Then I boiled them and peeled them and ground them up for my own sweet little plum. He hated them. He made the most hilarious sour faces you've ever seen. He would squeeze his little eyes shut and pucker his lips and shake his head a little. Then he would swallow, think for a minute, and open his mouth for the next bite. Eventually, though, I added some apple juice to sweeten them up a little, and he stopped making the sour faces. Then, a few days later I decided to go for the first green vegetable. Rod and Lesley (aka Grandma and Grandpa Walz) had given us some delicious garden green beans, which I just knew Isaiah would love. So I cleaned them extra thoroughly, boiled them until they were tender and perfect, ground them up, and measured them into tablespoon portions. Isaiah really hated them. He kept making gagging faces and spitting out the bites I gave him, and after the second spoonful, he refused to open his mouth anymore. I didn't know if I could try to season them with anything to make them better tasting for him. So, we'll just try again in a few days and see if he's changed his mind.

We also fed him some canned pears. Although I would love to feed him fresh fruit all the time, I thought he might like canned pear slices because he always wants to hold his own food, and he could gum these quite easily. So, I ground some up to feed him with a spoon, and I also gave him his own slice. We have a winner! Isaiah loves pears - hooray! He grunted at me if I took too long putting the next bite into his mouth, and he would open his mouth as wide as possible like a little baby bird. Maybe I should season green beans with pears. Hmmm.

Isaiah is working very, very hard on crawling. He can get up onto his hands a knees now and try to wiggle himself forward. Earlier today, he wanted to get to Uncle James' blue hair gel, so he huffed and puffed and worked and grunted to get up onto all fours, then he actually moved...backwards. Poor little guy. His face was pure heartbreak as he saw his object of desire get further and further away. But he was determined, and he kept working and trying until eventually I couldn't stand it and brought the bottle of hair gel over to him. Success! (Sort of) I really think he's going to get the hang of it soon, though. He's really working hard. He has prettymuch figured out how to sit by himself. Every once in a while, though, he starts slowly tipping over to one side, and he doesn't really try to stop himself. He just goes. I always catch him so that his head doesn't get bonked on the floor, which is probably why he doesn't mind falling.

He also seems to enjoy biting. More specifically, he enjoys biting me...very hard...when he's supposed to be sweetly nursing. He doesn't have any teeth yet, but it still hurts a lot. I don't know what I'm going to do when he get's his first tooth and gives me a real bite. Actually, that's not true. I know exactly what I'm going to do. I'm going to yell ouch, and then I'm going to give Isaiah to Michael for half an hour so I can curl up in a ball and cry. Not looking forward to that. I just don't know how to stop it from coming. Now, when he bites me, I say 'ouch' and then I don't let him nurse for a few minutes to try and show him that biting equals no food. It's not working, though. If anyone out there has any suggestions, I want to hear them. Help me please - I'm scared!

(Pictures will come soon, I can't get them to upload from the camera and my heroic husband is very busy keeping Isaiah happy.)

Splish Splash

2006-08-04T17:13:00.000-07:00

I am so thankful for Michael. Michael is such a good daddy to Isaiah, and such a good husband to me. Without him, I just don't know what I would do, and I know that Isaiah wouldn't be getting all that he needs. Lately, Isaiah has been loving up on his daddy an extra amount. When Daddy comes home from work, Isaiah screams for joy. When Daddy leaves for work in the morning, Isaiah cries unless I distract him with a toy or a song. And when Daddy plays with Isaiah, he giggles and laughs so hard his little belly jiggles all over. It's pretty beautiful to watch. Isaiah especially likes the game where Michael woofs and growls like a big dog. He just cracks up everytime Michael makes the noises. We concluded, unfortunately, that if a vicious dog were barking and growling at Isaiah, he would only giggle in return.

Isaiah also loves the game where Michael picks him up by his legs and lets him dangle upside down. Sometimes Michael will even tickle Isaiah's exposed, upside-down belly with his nose, which sends Isaiah into delighted shrieking laughs. I just can't make him laugh in quite the same way. I try to do the same things Michael does, and all I get are pity giggles. It's not that Isaiah doesn't enjoy my company - I know he's incredibly attached to me, and I love our relationship. I just think he has established that Daddy is the funny one. It's so sweet to see his adoration for his father. When he sees Michael after some time apart, the look in his eyes in unmistakable. "My daddy is my hero." I know, Isaiah - he's my hero too.

Isaiah has recently become worried when someone leaves the room, or even his line of sight. If I put Isaiah down to change his diaper, he'll often wimper a little because he worries that I'm going away. And if I have to walk a few steps out of visibility range - oh no! It's always fine again the moment I return to his side, but it's interesting to me that he gets anxious about this. It's not like I leave him alone that often. I'm almost always in the same room as him, and he even sleeps snuggled next to Michael and I. However, along with this newfound anxiety has come an adorable, endearing trait, though. When he sees me again, he holds out his arms for me to pick him up. Oh - be still my heart; my baby wants me to hold him. Sometimes, when I pick him up again, he wraps his chubby baby arms around my neck and squeezes me in the sweetest hug, and he even slobbers on my cheek in an attempt to kiss me. There is nothing more in the world that I need.

We took Isaiah to a little wading pool down the street from us. We are so lucky to have the great facilities we have near us. There is a beautiful walking path around the lake, and great little playground, and this pool that only goes up to my shins at the deepest point for neighborhood kids to play in. We slathered up Isaiah in lots and lots of sunscreen, put a hat on to cover his head, and stuck him in a sun-shaded floaty device. No tan baby for us! Sadly, Isaiah hated the pool at first. He cried when the water touched his feet and didn't want to get in at all. After a few minutes of gently sprinkling water on him, though, he let us dip his feet, then his legs, then his belly in. After that, he really seemed to enjoy it. His entire goal was to lean down and drink the clorinated water, of course. But with our combined efforts, Michael and I managed to stop him most of the time (or at least part of the time.)

He is continuing to grow at a tremendous rate. He hasn't been able to fit into 3-6 month clothing for a week or so, but I kept in his dresser for a while anyway because I hate putting it into storage. Everytime I have to put away clothes that are too small, I start crying, and I feel really dumb. Finally, though, I sucked it up and started putting them in the 'too small' box. This time, though, I didn't cry at all because I was talking to Isaiah and telling him that we were saving these clothes for his baby brother to wear one day. It was actually a little exciting to think about that. Hopefully Michael is alright having a dozen kids.

We tried another food for Isaiah last night. It turns out Isaiah doesn't like avocado any more than he liked banana. I really thought he would because it's so mild. Nope, more disgusted and confused faces. Oh well, though, we'll just keep trying new foods until we find a good one.

Model Fools

2006-08-04T16:03:00.000-07:00

For the thousandth time, someone told me that Isaiah is so cute he should be a baby model. I, of course, agreed wholeheartedly because I honestly do think he is the most adorable baby who has ever lived since the beginning of time. I know that some of my opinion is clouded by the motherly bias, but you can't deny his cuteness. So, I thought about it for a little while, and decided that baby modeling might be a fun way to start saving up for Isaiah's college. Lucky for me, there are several major corporations headquartered in Minneapolis that employ baby models, including Target, Huggies, Lifetouch, and Marshall Fields. Along with those are several modeling agencies. Since I didn't know where to start, I called Target headquarters and got the names of the modeling agencies they use from their advertising department. Then, when I was looking those up in the phone book, I also found one called "Kids.com" I thought this might be worth checking out as well, so I jotted down their number.

When I called Kids.com, they immediately put me through a phone interview asking about Isaiah's hair and eye color, if he has any marks or blemishes on his face, and if he is shy or outgoing. Then, since everything sounded good, they asked both Michael and I to bring Isaiah in for an appointment on Saturday. We were pretty excited because we thought this could be a fun opportunity for Isaiah. When we got to the office that Saturday morning, we were seated in the waiting room. Michael asked me if we would have to pay anything for the agency's service, and I told him that to my knowledge, any company that charged an upfront fee wasn't very legitimate because good agencies only take commission.

We got into the office - Tony Guy's office to be precise - and he declared Isaiah an absolute doll. He said that he was almost positive Isaiah could get jobs because he's so cute and in a really good age bracket. Then he explained that child models will make $85 to $100 an hour for print ads, and thousands of dollars for television commercials or appearances on soap operas. (Apparently there is quite a demand for babies on soap operas.) Then he said that Kids.com would be willing to have his picture taken, send that out to modeling agencies in the Twin Cities, put it on their website, and make all the callbacks for us that are needed. That deal sounded pretty good to us until he mentioned that it would cost $600, plus there would be a commission fee of 15% to Kids.com and 15% to the modeling agency. There was a stunned silence in the room, but only for a moment, because Tony Guy expertly filled the void with more talk, and asked us about where we were from and how we met and if we wanted more kids. He kept talking as he handed me the contract to read, making sure Michael and I didn't have a moment to talk to each other. Michael, at one point, asked how we could do it ourselves. (After all, we could just have his picture taken ourselves and send it to places, and we already have a website or two for him.) Then Tony Guy talked some more about how that wouldn't really work very well and asked us lots more friendly questions. I told Tony Guy that this wasn't really a good time for us to shell out $600, and so he drafted up a payment plan that split it up over three months. He kept talking about how Isaiah would be covered by this for five years including pictures (which isn't true at all because we would still have to pay the $20 sitting fee.)

Throughout all this, Michael wasn't saying anything and nodding politely, probably too shocked to do anything else. I was also nodding politely, not having any time to think between Tony Guy's friendly banter. I finally asked Michael what he was thinking, because I honestly couldn't tell, and I didn't know what to do. Unfortunately, often when I ask Michael what he's thinking it's because I want him to lean a certain way. This time, he thought I was asking because I wanted to sign the contract. So, he said "I guess we could make it work." Then I figured that he wanted to do it, so I said that I guessed we could make it work too. Then Tony Guy smiled and big smile, and we signed the contract.

As soon as we walked out the door, we looked at each other and realized that we had been smooth-talked into something bad, but luckily there was a clause in the contract that we could cancel within three days with written notice. So we got home, typed up the written notification, sent it off, and cancelled it on our credit card.

We feel pretty silly that we got duped into something so obviously shady. There was nothing about the office or the headshot book or the contract or Tony Guy that made us feel good, and we're still a little confused as to how we signed the dotted line at all. But we did, so silly us. At least we got it all straightened out.

Rollin', rollin', rollin'

2006-07-21T13:41:00.000-07:00

This week started off with a fun wedding in Wisconsin we drove to. Once again, Isaiah was an angel in the car, and it was a wonderful chance to spend some time talking with Michael while Isaiah looked out the window in back and babbled to himself. The latest sound he has enjoyed making is "Who...Who..." We had a great time at the wedding, and the bride (my former roommate) said Isaiah was the most perfect baby she had ever seen. Those comments make me so happy you would think people were calling me perfect and beautiful.

Isaiah also figured out how to jump in his Johnny Jump-Up. Hooray! We got a little jumping recorded on camera before he noticed Daddy holding the camcorder and stopped jumping to stare at him. I had to distract Isaiah again with a bright red box held up high so that he would jump for it. I kind of felt as though I was holding up a piece of cheese for my little dog, Sparky.

Isaiah really loves all kinds of physical play, not just jumping up and down. The other day, Michael was swinging him upside down over his head while I got ready in the bathroom, and Isaiah was laughing his little head off. Suddenly, the giggling stopped and moments later, Michael opened the bathroom door. I looked at him in alarm only to see one of the biggest spit-ups ever. Michael had it in his hair, in his eye, down his neck, and on his shirt. Of course, being the loving wife I am, I laughed really hard and got the camera. Luckily, my husband has a good sense of humor as well, and after good a shower and a clean shirt, he was as good as new.

Isaiah has also been showing more and more interest in all of his toys. It's so much fun to watch him play with all the cute little things he owns. It's also really interesting to see how toys have changed since I was a kid. For instance, when I was a little girl, I distinctly remember having a toy plastic rotary phone that went briiing when you dialed a number. Now Isaiah has a toy plastic cell phone that rings, has a busy signal, makes a ten-digit dialing noise, beeps, says hello, flashes a green light, and sings four different songs. No, I'm not kidding. Yet, despite all the advances in baby toys, babies seem to have remained the same. This morning, I was playing with Isaiah on the carpet, and I had all of his fancy, flashing, singing, beeping, wiggling, high-tech toys around to entice him. He went for the crumpled ball of paper and played happily with it for half an hour. If only we could all keep our lives that simple.

We tried, Wednesday night, to feed Isaiah some mashed up banana in his cereal. I had assumed that just plain rice cereal was probably getting a little boring and Isaiah would appreciate the extra flavor. I couldn't have been more wrong. The grossed-out faces Isaiah put on were hilarious. At first, he looked shocked, and he didn't even move his mouth or tongue for a few moments because he wasn't sure what to do. Then, he looked absolutely disgusted as he began to "chew" the mush, and finally, when he had mostly swallowed it, he looked confused as to why we would put such a thing into his mouth. But after each bite filled with shock, disgust and confusion, he saw the bowl filled with the banana-cereal and opened his mouth wide like a baby bird begging for more. Then we went through the roller coaster of emotions again. He never cried or made a truly sad face, though. I just think he was baffled as to what was in his mouth, and I'm pretty sure he's not the world's biggest banana fan. I've heard that babies' tastes can change frequently, though, so I might try banana again in a week or so to see what he thinks at that time.

Isaiah can now roll over from his back to his stomach to his back to his stomach to his back again. He figured out the full roll one evening and just looked at us so nonchalantly, as if he had been rolling around from day one. I actually watched him roll half-way across the room to get to a toy, and I couldn't believe my eyes. I'm so proud of my strong, smart little boy for figuring out how to roll around. Now, though, all I can see are dangers in our house. Isaiah could roll off the bed. Isaiah could bonk his head on the coffee table legs. Isaiah could roll over to an outlet and stick his fingers in it. I'm considering investing in miles of bubble wrap and making our place 100% padded.

Gone are the days when I could set Isaiah down with a toy, go to the bathroom, and come back to see him playing with the toy in the same spot. It's not just a possibility that he will roll and wiggle around, it's a guarantee. Rolling is his new favorite thing to do, and he does it at every possible opportunity. Now every morning when Isaiah wakes up, instead of staring up at the curtains and cooing, he kicks Daddy in the back until he has enough room to roll onto his stomach, and then he wiggles until I get up. I'm not even a little surprised, though. He has been exercising his legs for months, and it's pretty obvious that he goal has been to move as much as he can. I'll just have to get in better shape so I can keep up.

Going out...of my mind

2006-07-19T08:59:00.000-07:00

Last week Michael and I got down to business getting Isaiah on a regular schedule. We've never really felt the need for putting him on a nap schedule before, and I've always let it be a rather organic agenda. As long as he continued to get enough sleep throughout the day and night, I was content to let him take his two or three naps whenever he needed them, and get to bed whenever he was tired. Lately, though, I realized that I would need to be a little more deliberate about the whole thing, because he was beginning to get to bed at erratic times, and he wasn't sleeping for long enough stretches during the night. So, I figured I would try to have him wake up around eight or eight-thirty (which he always does anyway,) take his morning nap around ten-thirty, his afternoon nap around three-thirty, and have him in bed by eight. What a nice plan on paper. What actually happened most days was a half-hour nap at ten, an hour nap at noon, another half hour nap at three, and a biiig long nap around five, which left him too refreshed to go to bed at eight.

I finally am starting to get it down, though, and apparently Isaiah still needs three smaller naps during the day instead of two long ones. Even though the nap times vary a bit from day to day, we are getting him to bed and waking him up at consistent times, which is the most important part to me.

We also tried going out on our first date without Isaiah this last week. Michael and I both wanted to see Pirates of the Caribbean, so I began pumping milk four or five days ahead of time and storing it for our big night out. Uncle Peter agreed to watch Isaiah, and we decided to go as early as we could so we could be back for his bedtime, if possible. We decided to go to the AMC inside the Mall of America because it was a short drive should we need to run back home for any emergency. Unfortunately, Uncle Peter couldn't get off work as soon as we had hoped, so we would only be able to make the 6:45 show. Then, when we got to the theater, we realized they had posted the time wrong in the paper and it was actually a 7:15 show. I had already called Peter in the car on the way to the theater, but I figured I should call him again to let him know of the later showing and make sure once more that Isaiah was fine. He was just fine, of course, but I was still very nervous.

The movie was great, but halfway through, I called Peter again to check in. Isaiah was still just fine, so I went back into the theater and watched the rest of the movie with enjoyment. When it was done, I made Michael call because I figured Peter probably thought I was already insane. Unfortunately, this time Isaiah was crying and had been unhappy for a half-hour or so. Although it had been smart to go to a theater that was a short drive from home, it had been less smart to park in a ramp that could only be accessed through a department store, which had closed for the night. So what do I do as a rational, sane human being? I begin sprinting through the Mall of America in my heels looking for an exit. I'm sure everyone I passed thought I had shoplifted and was trying to outrun security, such was the look of horror and guilt on my face. As I was running, knowing how strange I looked, a thought occurred to me: I am no longer an independent woman; I am attached and bound to Isaiah and completely under his control. We finally got to our car (it took so, so long to get there) and we raced home. The entire time, Michael reassured me that this would not permanently scar Isaiah, that he was only crying because he was tired, that Isaiah wasn't hurt, that Peter was doing a fine job. All I could think of, though, was that I was a terrible mother and an idiot for choosing such a long movie for our first night out.

Finally, we arrived at home. I raced out of the car in my bare feet (they were quite sore from running around the mall in heels,) and sprinted through our back door expecting to hear those heart-wrenching little sobs. Instead it was completely silent. I found Peter in the living room watching the news with Isaiah fast asleep on his lap. Peter smiled and said that Isaiah finally just tired himself out and fell asleep. I felt so relieved that he was no longer crying, yet so awful that Isaiah had to fall asleep uncomforted. While Michael and Peter chatted in the living room, I walked back to our bedroom, sat down on our bed, and burst into tears. I cried for a solid five minutes before Michael brought sweet little sleeping Isaiah in so I could snuggle with him in bed. He slept in my arms, and I smelled his soft head, and I knew that we were both fine.

Serious Business

2006-07-08T10:18:00.000-07:00

This past week, Isaiah has absolutely exploded developmentally in so many ways. After we had both recovered from our road trip, Isaiah began playing with everything around him, which was so adorable. He is getting so good at reaching out and grabbing objects, and he's becoming acutely aware of all his surroundings. He really began discovering and paying attention new things in South Dakota where he discovered his feet and his right ear. (It wasn't until we were back that he realized he also had a left ear.) Now that he is paying more attention and has more coordination, Michael and I really have to watch out for dangers within his grasp.

This past Sunday, we were eating burritos after church at Chipotle when Isaiah began to get a little bored. I really don't blame him because he didn't have a burrito to munch on or even just play with. I got an extra piece of aluminum foil from the server which distracted him for quite a while. However, he knew that what he really wanted was Daddy's food. So, out shot a little arm with a little grabby hand attached and in a millisecond, he had a grasp on Michael's food basket and was about to toss the burrito onto the floor in a swift, jerky movement. Luckily, Michael had his guard up because he really loves Chipotle burritos, so he was able to catch it before it had even gone off the table. I have a feeling that it was just a warning of the hazards to come, though. It was a good reminder to me that I need to baby-proof our home some more. I have more outlet covers to stick in and corners to soften, and I should really get to it before he starts crawling.

I don't think crawling is really that far off because Isaiah is becoming stronger everyday. He pushes up higher when he's on his tummy, and he can roll to his back whenever he wants to. He even rolled from his back to his front once. Of course, both Michael and I were looking away at the time. He's actually trying to crawl with all his might, but he just hasn't mastered the concept of picking his head up off the ground when he pushes with his legs. As a consequence, he drags his poor little face on the carpet, and I worry that he'll get a rug burn on his cute little nose. He continues to work on it, though, and he has already mastered pivoting. He pushes with his legs and pivots around his stationary head, and sometimes he moves six inches in the direction he ends up pointing. It's alright with me that he's not too mobile yet - I have a lot of baby-proofing to do.

He also began showing mighty interest in food a few weeks ago, making chewing movements and watching forks go from the plate to people's mouths. It's pretty hilarious to watch. At one point, I was eating yogurt for breakfast and he was so fascinated that I let him suck on my spoon after each bite of yogurt. Even though there was no actual food left, he took his job very seriously. The look on his face told me that he knew he was becoming an adult because he ate with a spoon, and that I better start taking him seriously too.

In fact, he has become so interested in solid food that Michael and I decided to let him try some baby cereal. He has shown so many signs of readiness and interest that even though I wanted to wait until six months, we knew it would give him a lot of joy to try. So, we broke out the high chair and mixed up the cereal. (I Tbsp cereal to 5 Tbsp breast milk) We figured out that we pretty much could have just fed him milk with a spoon because it was so liquidy anyway, but Isaiah loved it. He ate, once again, very seriously, and he got possibly one third of it into his mouth. Of course, we had to give him a bath after that, and then we decided he was so cute that he kept him naked and put a white sheet down on the bed for an impromptu photo session. The conclusion? He's the cutest baby in the world.

On the Road Again

2006-06-29T13:22:00.000-07:00

Isaiah and I just got back from South Dakota for a week long visit to my parents. It was wonderful. Isaiah had such a good time visiting my family, and why shouldn't he have? He was the star of the show everywhere he went. Everyone loves him no matter what, but there's absolutely nothing to compare to two sets of grandparents fawning over you.

Michael's parents drove Isaiah and I out to Rapid City, which if you think about it, is an incredibly charitable and brave thing to do. Not many people would volunteer their time and gas money to spend 9 hours in a car with a baby. Michael had to stay in Minneapolis to work, and it was the first trip for both Isaiah and I without him. Isaiah was an absolute angel in the car, partly because he's a naturally sweet and mellow kid, and partially because I had been pumping milk for days in anticipation of this drive. We stopped twice for gas and food, and only one extra time for a diaper change. Honestly, I didn't even know babies came this good.

Isaiah really impressed my mom, the physical therapist, with all of his physical prowess. He rolled over a few times and pushed up into "prone prop" and almost balanced while sitting and used his strong, chunky legs to stand all the time, so I guess she was right to be impressed. It was so wonderful to see my parents interact with Isaiah and vice versa. My mom plays with him in the same ways and uses the same high-pitched voice that I do, and Isaiah gets very excited and alert with her. My dad, on the other hand, is very serene and mild with him and just carries him around and explains their surroundings in a soothing voice, so Isaiah is relaxed and calm with him. Andy is, well, sweet and pretty doting, but he's never really been around a baby at all, so he's still a little nervous, and it shows. Each time he holds Isaiah though, they have a better time together. I know that if we got to see one another more often, the two of them would bond like glue. It's beautiful to see the delight they each take in him in their own ways.

In truth, this was one of my favorite visits back home. I've always loved seeing my family and I miss them so much when I'm gone, but it was so wonderful to bring Isaiah home to my parents and Andy. They were all so reassuring in my parenting skills, that I was able to really relax and enjoy the whole time with them and not have to worry that I'm taking care of Isaiah in ways they might not approve of. I am so blessed with my family - and Michael's family too. I hear horror stories all the time of mothers who have to deal with interfering grandparents, who criticize and undermine and do all sorts of awful things. I have parents and in-laws who support me and love me and truly want to help me and give Isaiah their best, and I can feel how it makes me a better mom. I am so glad Isaiah will grow up in such an incredible family.

If it weren't for the fact that I really missed Michael, I would have wanted the vacation to go on for at least another week. I never feel like my visits are long enough, and, in truth, they aren't. Now that I had Isaiah with me, though, I could have stayed for sooo long. Although, his sleeping and eating schedule got way off because he partied too hard.

On the way back home, Isaiah still did wonderfully. He didn't really fuss at all until we were almost all the way back to our place. Then, during the last five or ten minutes of the drive, he screamed and cried. Poor baby. I couldn't get him into his carseat for two days after that because he had absolutely had enough travel. So, we stayed home and relaxed. Truthfully, I wasn't really relishing the thought of going anywhere anyway. A baby is a great excuse to stay home, if that's what you're into.

Seeing Spots

2006-06-17T13:08:00.000-07:00

Isaiah got a rash this week. It was terrible. At least, it was terrible for Michael and I. Isaiah, as a matter of fact, didn't seem to mind or notice that he had a rash at all.
Michael and I were visiting friends of ours from the Caribou where I worked while I was pregnant. Isaiah's diaper was wet and he was getting fussy about it, so I went into the bathroom to change it. Then, as I was putting a dry diaper back on him, I noticed that there were little red dots on his cute little tush. Then I looked at his stomach and saw that there were red dots on it as well. They were pretty faint, and I figured they were from his clothing. My guess was that I had forgotten to wash that outfit in baby detergent and had washed it in regular detergent instead. No worries. So I kept him naked (except for the diaper) and figured it would go away. Instead it got much, much worse.

The dots became much more red (although they stayed as tiny as pin pricks) and spread to everywhere on his body. Everywhere. He had tiny dots in the soles of his feet, the palms of his hands, the inside of his ears, the top of his head. Everywhere. We took him for a walk and let the sun shine on his little legs, and his legs became grotesquely covered in harsh, bright red dots. Michael gave him a bath hoping that the water would sooth his skin, and it did nothing. I learned so much in those three days about rashes it was ridiculous. I learned that this was NOT heat rash, nor impetigo, nor roseola, nor anything else that I could find on the internet. When we finally got him to the doctor, she didn't know what it was either, but she could tell us, from looking in his ears and nose and throat, that he didn't have a virus to go along with it, so he would most likely be alright.

All this time, Isaiah was happy and carefree, and still didn't seem to notice the rash at all. I think the whole rash was more harmful to my health than his, and within a day or two, it was all gone. I think the most he suffered from it was when I had to check his temperature rectally twice a day. Oh, and at this doctor's visit, he weighed 16 pounds, 4 ounces.

On a less stressful note, Michael has a job (yay!) and he likes it a lot (yay!) Also, Isaiah has been rolling over more frequently and with less visible effort. I can't believe how much he grows up every day. I wish he could remember these times when he gets older. They are such sweet and exciting times for me, and when I see how much fun he has, I think of how wonderful it would be if he could look back 20 years from now and say "Oh, I remember how much it used to crack me up when my dad would blow on my stomach." or "Yeah, it was pretty cool to take naps twice a day in my mom's arms." I guess I'll just have to remember it all for him. It's an amazing treasure that I have, being able to watch Isaiah grow up and gradually, already, change from being my baby into his own person. I love it, and it breaks my heart at the same time. I would like to be able to hold him forever, but already he wants his own independence. It's very odd to feel so excited for changes, yet not want them to come at all. My consolation is that when he was a newborn, I never wanted him to grow out of that stage because it was so wonderful and sweet, but every day (with one or two exceptions) has been better than the day before. I love watching my baby grow.

It's a Scream

2006-06-10T20:32:00.000-07:00

This week has been full of unpacking and reorganizing in our new home. Most of all, though, this week has been full of playing. I love playing with Isaiah, and I absolutely prefer it to unpacking. Therefore, I spend much, much more time playing with him than doing actual housework. And I feel quite good about this decision. The number one thing I have heard from moms who have grown-up kids is that they wish they could have spent more time with them, or that the time I have with him now is "so precious...so fleeting." I've never actually heard a veteran mom tell me to spend less time with my baby and more time taking care of other things, especially other things like laundry. At the same time, to be honest, I still feel a pressure to have a perfect (or nearly perfect) looking home with organized cupboards and a tidy basement. I feel like some part of my worth as a mother and wife comes from having glistening kitchen counters and dust-free ledges. I'm not exactly sure why I feel this way, since Michael is always sweet and never makes me feel like a failure when I let parts of the house go. Isaiah, of course, never cares about the condition of the house at all as long as he's looked after and fed. I also happen to know tons of women in the same situation as me. Why do we feel that we have to be responsible for all of this? Why do we feel that it speaks of our value as moms and wives? Try as I might to just let it go, something in me feels guilty when I see a pile of dirty clothes. Then again, something bigger in me feels joy when I spend time with my husband and my baby boy.

We are really relishing this time before Michael has to report to a full time job. In many ways, it's a nice place to be in - after graduation and before the 9-5 workweek. Michael gets to spend more time with Isaiah than so many dads do. He gets to share in all his triumphs and joys and milestones. At the same time, I know that Michael wants a job as quickly as he can get one. Of course we both do, and at times we definitely feel the pressure of having no income, but it's such a blessing, too. I know that whenever Michael does go back to work, I'm going to miss him during the day.

Isaiah has now, truly found his little voice, and guess what...it's not so little. He loves to scream and yell at the top of his lungs. It's not an angry or sad scream (most of the time,) it's a scream of pure exhilaration at having discovered that his own tiny body can produce such a loud noise. He screams when he sees someone he knows. He screams when he sees someone new. He screams when you smile at him. He screams when he wants your attention again. He screams when you're playing a game with him. He screams when he gets slightly tired of the game. He screams when he's really tired of the game. And he screams right before he begins to cry because by now he's really sick of the game. Did I mention that all these screams sound exactly the same. I know that somewhere in that sequence he went from excited and happy to tired and frustrated, but he's making the same sound for everything. By the time I figure out he's no longer having tons of fun, it's too late. Still, it's pretty cute to watch him when he happy screams.

Isaiah's favorite place to scream is in his Johnny Jump-up. Yes! We got him a Johnny Jump-up, and it's, apparently, fun enough to scream about. He can't really jump in it yet, but he can stand in it, and I guess that's enough for him. My guess is that he thinks he's standing on his own, which I'm pretty sure is his dream for now. He loves standing the way I love chocolate - he just can't get enough of it. To be honest, we could have just gotten him a Johnny Stand-up (Stanley Stand-up?) and he would have been just as thrilled, but we're hoping he figures out how to jump in it soon. According to Michael's parents, Michael love his Johnny Jump-up when he was a baby and I have seen pictures of him grinning in his old jump-up the way Isaiah grins in his. Like father, like son.

Grabby Hands

2006-06-02T10:23:00.001-07:00

We are now moved into our new little home. And I have to say, it's pretty homey. We still have boxes of stuff in inconvenient places all around, and we haven't hung any pictures up on the wall, and I still forget where I've stored items in the kitchen, but we're home!

Isaiah really took the move in stride. As of yet, I don't actually think he's noticed that we are living in a different place. Mommy's here, Daddy's here, Old MacDonald's Animal Play Farm is here...nothing else really matters. I seriously doubt he ever knew where he was in the first place. He is just happy wherever he goes, which makes me happy wherever he goes too.

Isaiah has become a grabber, and I couldn't be more excited. He just started actually reaching out for his toys of interest a few days ago. It's so cute to see the intense concentration on his face while he works out all the details. I feel like his thoughts are just perfectly displayed on his cherubic little face.
"Let's see...that Froggie-rattle seems to be four inches away from my face. I better reach out pretty far to get it...Oh! Oh I touched it. Okay, now I've got to open up my fingers...and the thumb...this is always the hard part...come on thumb. I've got...no...no...yes! Got it!"
Then as soon as he gets it in his hand, his immediate goal is to eat it, evidenced by his wide open drooly mouth.

He's really been enjoying biting anything that comes near his mouth lately, which is fine since he doesn't have any sharp little baby teeth. Still, his jaw is getting pretty strong, and he actually cracked my knuckle the other day.

Isaiah still doesn't understand "peek-a-boo," and in fact, the game terrifies him right now. Michael was playing it with him last night, and Isaiah jumped every time Michael appeared from behind the pillow. Then, after a few of those surprises, he put on his saddest little face and began to cry. I guess we'll just stick to funny noises for a while.

Speaking of funny noises, Isaiah has begun to imitate some of the funny noises we make. His best one is the monkey-like noise that you make by pursing your lips together and blowing to make a "Pbth" sound. He cracks up when we do it, and he started trying it on his own about a week ago. He's actually getting very good at it, but he usually ends up blowing a ton of spit bubbles down his chin. Other than the "pbth" noise, I've noticed that Michael and I end up imitating Isaiah much more frequently than he imitates us. He'll happily shout out "Whar!" and we'll answer back "Whar!" Then he'll answer back "a-grur" and we'll respond in kind. Finally, our conversations just end up in a gurgling contest. He always wins.

Isaiah has been doing much better with nursing, for all of you who were wondering. He's stopped being so impatient, and now we're back to the sweet nursing times that we were having before. I think one of the problems was that he was too distracted by his surroundings, so he didn't want to stop and nurse until he was really, really hungry. By that time, he was also usually over-tired and just in a frustrated mood. Now, though, he's been happy to nurse when he needs to instead of waiting until it's too late. He's still pretty interested in his surroundings, though, which can be a little tricky if I'm nursing with other people around. If I speak to someone while I'm feeding, or sometimes if anyone in the room says anything, he'll pop off and look around to see what's going on, leaving me hanging. Not cool, Isaiah. Basically, I have to hold his head in place with my hand and keep a blanket strategically placed so that even if he takes a break to look around, I'm covered.

At our doctor's visit, we were told that we could start feeding Isaiah solid food now if we wanted. We're deciding to wait until he's six month's old, though, because we've heard that's nutritionally best for him. He's less likely to develop allergies or tummy-aches. Beyond that, though, is the fact that I'm not ready for nursing to come to an end. I so enjoy the time I have with my little baby, and the thought of him eating solid foods just reminds me that he won't be a baby for long at all. I'm in no rush; I just want to enjoy nursing him while I still can. Plus, I have read that as soon as a baby starts getting something other than, or in addition to breast milk, their diapers start stinking up the wazoo, and I don't look forward to that either.

Oh, and he just turned 4 months old, he weighs 15 1/2ish pounds, and he's 25+ inches long. How did this all happen? It's just flown by.

I caught a fifteen pounder

2006-05-17T09:41:00.000-07:00

This has been a great week with Michael home to help with Isaiah and to give me company. I'm so thankful that he can spend more time with his baby boy, because it's shocking to see how quickly Isaiah grows and changes.

When Isaiah was first a new, newborn, I remember calling my mom and crying because I was so sad that he was going to grow and change and eventually not be my little baby anymore. I remember thinking that no stage could possibly be as wonderful as the one I was in at that moment, when Isaiah was as tiny as could be. He slept in my arms and hungrily ate every hour. He needed me (or Michael) every minute of the day, and he was so marvelous to look at. My mom assured me that it would only get better as he grew and developed, and that every little new thing he did would be so exciting. I didn't believe her one bit, though, and I cried some more. I think my rush of post-pregnancy hormones had something to do with the breakdown, but I was truly sad at the thought of my baby growing up.

I can say now, though, that my mom was right. Every day seems to be better than the day before, and I love watching Isaiah's personality emerge and unfold. I love seeing him smile, and I love playing with him. It's amazing to watch him as he learns something new, and I'm always excited to see what will come next. Being a mommy is great!

Speaking of growing - Isaiah weighs at least 15 pounds now. Michael weighed him on our bathroom scale last week because both of our arms were aching from carrying our baby sumo wrestler around all the time. On the one hand, I was shocked that Isaiah had doubled in weight since his birth. On the other hand, my arms and back had already let me in on that secret. Not only does he weigh more, he wiggles more, so he really puts your hold on him to the test. He really likes to wiggle and kick when I'm holding him over the toilet. I know it's only a matter of time before he wiggles at just the right moment and pees on the ceiling. Oh well. At least I know it's coming.

Isaiah is becoming a very impatient nurser. I express enough milk for one bottle a day for him so that Michael gets a chance to feed him. Now, though, he seems to prefer his bottle over me. When he gets hungry and I try to nurse him, he pulls back crying and screaming more angrily before. I'm pretty sure it's because it takes a few moments for me to let down my milk, and he's gotten used to it coming at the very instant he starts sucking with a bottle. I'm not quite sure what to do about this, but it's not fun at all. Sometimes, if he's already eaten his bottle, we'll even feed him a little water to get him calm enough to actually nurse. I really want to continue nursing him, so I'm hoping this is only a phase. At other times of the day, he still loves to nurse, so I'm pretty hopeful it will pass.

Even when something difficult like this comes up, Isaiah will do something else that is wonderful and endearing that completely makes up for any hassle. Yesterday, he talked to himself in the mirror for at least ten minutes, which was absolutely adorable. He's also playing this game where I hold his hands and he goes from a sitting to a standing position and then grins. Then I plop him down on his little tush and say "plop," and he grins again before trying to stand once more. We could play for hours.

Next week he'll be getting his second round of immunizations and an official weight check. I hate it when they poke my baby.

Isaiah hates cell phones

2006-05-11T21:10:00.000-07:00

I had to change my cell phone ring this week. I had a great ring that played Pachabel's Canon in D. It was the song I walked down the aisle to, and it has always been a favorite of mine. Apparently, Isaiah doesn't share my taste in this particular case. Every time my cell phone would ring, he would stick out his lower lip and put on a very sad, pouty face. Sometimes he would even begin to cry before I could shut the silly thing off. I don't know if he just hates the song or if he associates it with me getting up and running off to answer the phone. Either way, it's out and some other, rather generic sounding ring is in.

On a more fun note, we've discovered a new game to play with him. When we blow on his face, he gasps in very quickly, as if to breath in the extra air. Then we laugh because it's so cute and he laughs because he likes to be in on the joke. We even played the game with the hairdryer set on low and cool last night, and he giggled away. I have so much fun with my little guy. He's laughing more every single day, which is wonderful to witness. He's also drooling more every single day, which is kind of funny too, but also embarrassing on occasion. Our friend Deb Goldberg was holding him one afternoon while I tried on bridesmaid's dresses, and when she handed him over to me, she had a gigantic drool puddle on the shoulder of her sharp and classy shirt. Thankfully, she was gracious about it. Once again, the baby gets away with things that the general population just can't pull off.

We're pretty sure a tooth is going to pop through his pink little gums any day now. He's constantly gnawing on his little fingers or our fingers or a blanket or Michael's nose or anything else that comes his way. Except for teething rings, which he is disgusted by. He's still as pleasant as ever, though, and we feel very lucky that we have such a sweet baby. I never imagined how much fun it would be to play silly little games with him. I could do it all day. In fact, some days, I do. He's become much more interested in people around him as well. He often stops eating to look up at me and smile while milk dribbles down his cheek. It's one of the most beautiful images I have ever seen, and I hope that I will be able to clearly be able to bring it to mind for years, because it absolutely melts my heart.

It's amazing that Isaiah can so effortlessly have such a huge effect on me, and he has no idea that he's doing it. In fact, even when he's older, I don't know how I will ever be able to tell him the impact he has had on my life. I love Isaiah more selflessly that I have ever loved anyone. That's not to say that I don't love Michael just as much as I love Isaiah - I truly, truly do. It's just that I know that Michael loves me back, and he shows me in tender, sweet ways every single day. Isaiah does nothing - he smiles at me and coos, and that's enough to bring me to my knees and want to spend my entire day taking care of him. It's something I can't even pretend to understand.

Although I know that I will never be able to posses, or even fathom, the endless, selfless love that God has for me, I feel that getting married gave me slightly more understanding of it, because I love to serve Michael and do whatever I can for him, and even to just watch him do mundane thing like sleep or make a sandwich. Then having a baby gave me slightly more understanding still of God's love, because I love to serve him, and give to him, and I don't expect him to return the favor in the least. I can't even guarantee, through all this loving I am giving to Isaiah, that he will like me the least bit when he grows up. It doesn't matter at all, though, and I know that if one day Isaiah decides to declare that he hates me, I will still love him. It makes me so grateful for all the love God has given me, and of course, the love he has given to Michael and Isaiah.

Gulp, smack, uh!

2006-05-05T08:40:00.000-07:00

I got my husband back! Michael's portfolio show is now finally finished and his work is done, so now he gets to re-enter the land of the living. He's currently upstairs right now sleeping off the last semester and snuggling with Isaiah.

Isaiah and I went to the portfolio show both days to hang out with Daddy and see all the work that people put into it. If you didn't go - you really missed out. It was pretty impressive. Isaiah and I spent at least 6 hours there each day, and he was such a little trooper. I was so impressed with how good and happy he was the entire time. Of course, I know what a mellow little sweetie he is, so I wasn't too surprised. All the other graduates at the show were absolutely floored, though. They couldn't believe how wonderful he was the entire time. People absolutely marveled at how calm and happy he was and how sweet he looked all cuddled into the sling. (Yes, I got my new sling - Hooray!) Every time one of Michael's classmates began to become immune to Isaiah's cuteness, he just smiled or yawned or sneezed or did something else that brought them right back to their knees.

After the last day of the show, everyone went out to Solera, which is a fun, classy bar-type place. Of course, Isaiah came right along in the sling and hung out with everyone. He slept for part of the time, but mostly, he just socialized. The bartenders and waitresses were also head-over-heels for Isaiah. Now that the craziness of the Portfolio Show is all done, though, we have to get him back on a schedule.

Yesterday Michael, Isaiah, and I all went to at award ceremony for Michael from the Print Industry of Minnesota. Two of his pieces had won awards, and we were sitting through a long, boring speaker waiting to get them. Isaiah became hungry, but I had him in the sling and was wearing a shirt that was incredibly easy to nurse in, so he barely let out a whimper before I was feeding him. Unfortunately, that's where the finesse ended. I figured people would barely even notice that I was feeding him because he was covered with the sling, and I had a blanket over my shoulder and his head to further the modesty. However, Isaiah is one of the nosiest nursers ever. He's just so excited to be nursing, he can't help it. At first it was just very loud gulping and smacking, but then he started grunting every time he swallowed, so it was:
"Gulp, smack, uh! Gulp, smack, uh!" Then, it apparently tasted so good that he began sighing as well. "Gulp, smack, uh! Aaaaaah. Gulp, smack, uh! Aaaaaaah." It was a little embarrassing, but it was mostly funny, so I giggled for much of the time and tried to shush him for a little bit.

Then, yesterday afternoon, Uncle Peter came over to watch Isaiah while Michael and I packed boxes. We got 10 good sized boxes packed, plus all the ones in the garage that I had packed the previous month. I think we're going to take a run down to our new place to relocate some of our boxes there. It's always a hassle to move, but it's always kind of fun as well as you imagine where everything will go. Isaiah did a great job with Uncle Peter, and it will be so nice to have him next door.

Isaiah has figured out how to get his hands into his mouth, and he absolutely loves to suck on them. I think he's working towards his thumb, but that particular concept is just a little beyond him still. For now he just fits as much of his fist as possible into his mouth (sometimes he even tries for both of them) and then smacks contentedly. Once in a while he opens his fist after he's gotten it into his mouth and gags himself on his fingers. Then, he gets this look on his face that says, "That was rather unpleasant." But he sticks his fist right in again.

Oh yeah - Isaiah is now three months old for all of you who are counting. He's my big, little boy.