Thank You For Sharing

Mili is helping Solomon learn to share. I told her that it wasn’t sharing if she took it without permission. In the end, Mili found Solomon’s toys underwhelming since they didn’t squeak when she chewed them. The blanket, however, is a favorite.

Solomon has had two basic requests today: don't put me down and keep moving. He's sleeping in my arm now, having been walked from room to room for 20 minutes. Since I have clients tonight, I demanded a shower. The four minute type. Solomon was crying by minute three. There's a water trail into his room from when I retrieved the bink. I'm hoping that after he eats at 1:40, I can make my sandwich for tonight's supper. I'll finish a melon for lunch. Or not, because I bet that takes two hands. Looks like deli turkey, rolled into a tube with Swiss cheese.

Who's Your Daddy?

After two nights away, Scott returned to Solomon, who was ready for Daddy Time. Honestly, it’s amazing that single parents survive. I had Nany’s help for almost two days and only one night alone, but it was enough to raise my admiration for those who do it on their own all the time. Solomon fell asleep in my arms at 6:15 last night, so I snuggled with him until 9:30. Just who was comforting whom, I’m not sure. My toughest job was getting Mili (the greyhound) out and fed at 5:15A and convincing Solomon not to cry until I was finished and could comfort him.

A Visit From Nany

Much apologies for yesterday, the day of no new Solomon news. Reason being is that Nany was here for a holiday weekend visit and we were quite busy. Solomon was thrilled to have another person to whom he could show off his ever-improving cooing and laughing skills. Nany made up songs to sing to him and did more than her share of diapy changes, but not before Solomon made fountains all over Mommy. Twice in a row. He had enough manners not to initiate Nany in the diapy jokes right off the bat. Nany sewed Solomon some groovy threads. It’s hard to tell in the photo, but there’s a funky caterpillar crawling on the leg. The other pair is orange with a big, fat ladybug up the side. As a bonus, Nany is going to make clothes for Solo’s Ma. Dreams do come true.

You're My Obsession

I went a bit crazy with the photos today. There are a few in each series (understatement?). It’s just that the boy was so adorable (duh) and so animated that I couldn’t resist.

To balance out my problems, I gave up an obsession today. This morning at 5:00 was the last time I recorded the patterns of Solomon’s eating and diapering. Laugh if you must, but I found comfort in the compulsion, which, is what compulsions are supposed to do, so I guess it worked. Ask me what times Solomon ate and for how long on any day from 2/12-5/25, and I can produce the documents. For a while I contemplated making graphs to chart his sessions (not so much his diapers, for it was clear that there was at least one diapy mess for every feeding). No lie. That anal (pun intended) chapter is closed and I am left to obsess over whether or not his motor skills are on target, given that he hasn’t rolled over again since that day I caught it on digital media.

Golly, he sure is cute, though.

Just Ducky

Aunt Sali sent Solomon this duck onsie. He wore it on March 1 as well as today. It’s so amazing to compare the two babies, nearly 3 months apart.

The story of Peep Peep

Aunt Sali has a thing for ducks. When I was five years old, she presented me with a duckling for Easter. I’m not sure that she asked my parents first, but how’s a mom or dad going to say no once the fuzzy yellow bird is there? You can’t see it in the photo, but Aunt Sali’s in the background. Smirking. I carried Peep Peep around on a paper towel to catch his ducky dookie. The other thing memorable about that Easter was the dress my mom made me out of Lily Pulitzer fabric, back when wearing clothes your mom made had little bearing on whether or not your friends thought you were cool (as a side note here, I think we’ve gone full circle, as I would give anything to have my mom make my clothes now). I wore it in a fashion show at my elementary school. Peep Peep lived in my shower. I’m fairly certain that we went to the farm feed store and bought special Purina Duck Chow for him. What I remember most about that store are red and white Purina checkerboard on the building, the bins of bulk feed and how it smelled like cracked corn. At some point in raising Peep Peep, an adult must have warned me that he might bite. From then on, when the duck would approach me, I got skittish. I’m very sad now thinking about the rejection Peep Peep must have felt. But I don’t suppose ducks have such complex emotions since their brains are about the size of a walnut, so it was probably all the same to him. In June, the family decided that it was time for Peep Peep to move to the park, partially because I was scared of him, but also because it’s really a pain to have a duck in the house. I like to believe that Peep Peep became a favorite of the park crowd because he was so friendly. I bet he got the most heels from the loaves of Wonder Bread.

Yikes, Stripes

Stripes are very popular in children’s wear. Polka dots are cuter, but apparently next to impossible to find for boys. Scott believes there’s a good reason for this.

In other news, Solomon dropped a nighttime feeding last night. Looks like we have a new goal. The trouble with only eating once in the night is that my body still (painfully) prepares for two or three. I’m told that Solomon and I will sync up soon.

Solomon says, “You want a piece of me?”

Coo Coo Ca-Choo

Solomon has become quite the chatter box. He's most talkative when he wakes in the morning, or after a meal (provided he didn't drift off to sleep while eating). His favorite phrases are "A-coo, Er, Ooo-Ooo," and "Hieee!" I can only imagine what he's trying to tell me. Probably something like, "Mom, enough with the camera already!" P.S. There was some debate on whether the lyrics in I Am The Walrus are "Coo Coo Ca-Choo" or "Goo Goo Ga-Joob". Both are listed on various lyric websites. I went with the former after consulting a musician friend.

Little Boy Blue

Solomon and I had a snuggle nap this morning, a rare event that I treasure. It’s not so much a time for me to sleep as it is a time for me to cuddle and stare at the boy. Sleeping from 9:30-11 is common for Solomon if he's in his car or I'm holding him. During those times I’m usually trying to get something done. Today however, I did fall asleep. Solomon woke me around 10:45 by squirming and knocking us both with his fists (there’s a reason we call them his “bonkers”). He was due to eat around 11 and I couldn’t un-fuss him with the usual trick of walking in circles through the kitchen and living room, so we settled down to eat just a tad earlier than I had anticipated. I turned the TV to Nash Bridges, a secret indulgence that is now not so secret. USA Network shows back-to-back episodes at 10 and 11. The first show ended and instead of seeing Don Johnson, Chuck Norris appeared to introduce Walker, Texas Ranger. Cranky that the schedule had changed, I flipped on the guide to pick out another show. I was horrified to find that it was now noon. No wonder Solomon was so fussy.

Goals

Caption for this photo: What a bruiser! Perhaps he really will play rugby someday (and score a goal), although I don't think the uniforms will be one-piecers.

In compliance with Truth in Advertising, I need to tell you that today's blog entry isn’t really about Solomon, although he does make an appearance and is the underlying force. With that caveat, read on. When I was in hospital to bring Solomon into the world, the nurse asked me my goal for the day so she could write it on the marker board. “How absurd!” I thought. “Like, duh, my goal is to have a baby.” In hindsight, I should have added something to the effect of “without pain.” You can’t expect that for which you don’t ask.

Three months later I’m warming up to the idea of setting goals each morning. Every day last week my goal was to go to the post office and the library. Not because I wanted to do those errands five times, but because I fell short every day. I finally crossed them off the list today. As a matter of fact, I had a huge success in goal accomplishment this morning. To set the scene, last Tuesday I went to get my driver’s license renewed. I purposely waited until after I thought the lunch crowd would be finished. Arriving at 3:00, I had number 119. They were serving number 89. I overheard a gentleman far ahead of me say he’d already been waiting 40 minutes. Egads. I pictured nursing Solomon in the waiting area then made a bee-line for the door. Today I forsook a shower in order to arrive at the Secretary of State at 9:15. Bingo! I was out of there in 11 minutes, giving me the opportunity to fulfill last week’s goals (mentioned above). I think it would be best for everyone if tomorrow I make a goal of taking a shower.

(Don't) Take Me Out To The Ball Game

The big plan for today was to take Solomon to his first baseball game. Not just any baseball game, mind you. The Reds were in town. Since the schedule first came out, we’d dreamed of taking the boy to the stadium. The fantasy was all smiles and good times (as fantasies are prone to be) with photographic evidence that would bring us joy for years to come.

As it turns out, it’s really a pain to make it all happen. When we woke up this morning, we started thinking of all the things we had to do (groceries, drug store, nap, etc.) and the added challenges of having an infant at the game. Plus last night was a SRO crowd and the thought of arriving at Comerica only to discover there were no seats was, well, dismal. So we nixed the idea and watched the game on the tele. Solomon is giving the Reds the raspberries for losing.

Or maybe he’s doing that to us for looking like such a dorky family.

Shake It

Solomon has not mastered reaching out for toys yet. However, he has that monkey reflex that helps him hold onto a toy once it’s touching his fingers. Here he’s got a hold of a soft baseball rattle. Solomon’s hoping to attend the Reds/Tigers game on Sunday.

I love the monkey grasp. As I’m carrying Solomon over my shoulders, he often spreads his arms out and holds onto my hair. It’s just like you see in photos of baby gorillas.

Mother's Little Helper

Solomon protested his bedtime meal last night and ended up going to bed without any supper. The only repercussion that I can tell is that he woke several times in the night, wanting to nurse. I complied. Ordinarily such behavior would earn him a D for the night, but I’ll cut him a break since maybe he didn’t feel well. He’s trying to make it up to me today by being extra cute and helpful.

Catch (some z's) As Catch Can

Solomon was waiting for me in the shower. It started out that I was just brushing my teeth, so I laid him down on Daddy’s robe. He seemed not to mind, so I covered him with my shirt (which used to be my dad’s) and jumped in the shower. Solomon looked around, apparently content to just hang out. He fell asleep while I was drying my hair, so I started to clean out the drawers in the bathroom. I had all of the stuff out of the drawers when he stirred, no longer satisfied with being on the ground alone. The drawer got finished eight hours later. It’s a good thing I wasn’t cleaning the refrigerator.

This is Solomon sleeping immediately (I mean, I didn’t even get him off of the pad) after a diapy change. We’d been playing on the floor during open air time (no diapy) and I thoroughly expected him to fall asleep in the sun, as has been his habit. Since Solomon seemed wholly uninterested in sleeping after about 20 minutes, I decided to put a diapy on him and get him dressed for the day. Then he zonked out. I let him be and started a short project in the nursery, but his nap only lasted five minutes. About 30 sample packs of baby products are now on the floor until Solomon falls asleep again and I can organize them.

After Solomon’s late morning meal, I thought we’d run some errands. I had him strapped in his car (his word for car seat) by the door while I ran out to get my car from the garage. When I came back inside, he was snoozing. I have to work tonight and thought I could use a nap myself. So I moved his car over by the couch and shut my own eyes. I couldn't fall asleep.

Mommy Snob

The other day I was in line at the grocery store. Behind me was a woman pushing a stroller. In the stroller was a baby, maybe a bit older than Solomon. He was wailing to beat the band. The Mommy repositioned the bottle that was propped up by blankets. Her baby continued to cry while she proceeded to unload her cart. I instantly snapped to judgment. In my head I was telling her to forget the groceries for a moment and pick up her baby. All the while I was thinking, “poor baby”. Then it hit me. I’m a Mommy Snob. Just who do I think I am to tell another Mommy what’s right for her and her baby. It’s hard to give up, being judgmental by nature. If I can take any lesson, it is the one I was about to lay upon my friend mentioned earlier: you have to decide for yourself. I read tons of literature about parenting infants while I was pregnant. There are smart, well-adjusted people out there who believe in letting a baby cry as part of training the child to self-soothe and fit into the parents’ routine. It seems barbaric to me, as I would no sooner let Solomon continue crying while I was capable of providing comfort than I would any other person. Solomon’s only way to tell me he needs help is to cry. As humans, how often do we ignore our loved ones when they are in pain or need? I know I do it more often than I care to admit. For Solomon and me, I believe that there are better ways of teaching. This I say as he has been napping on my lap for the past 45 minutes because I was unable to get him to sleep in his crib.

It's Gotta Be The Stripes

If this seems like déjà vu to you, don’t worry. The first photo I put on this blog is eerily similar: dark and light blue stripes, propped on a boppy, belly laugh. Uncanny, no?

Last night after the 1:00AM feeding, as I was trying desperately to fall back asleep, I was reminded of a story by Kurt Vonnegut called “Harrison Bergeron,” that I read years ago. In it everyone is somehow made to be equal. For instance, a person with above average intelligence had a noise blasted in his ear every so often for the purpose of derailing his thought train. Ten points to anyone who knows where I’m going with this. As is the custom when I’m not quite sleeping, I think through plans and ideas; solve problems. Such was the case last night. A friend is due with her first child in August and I was contemplating the things I wish I had known when Solomon first arrived. Indeed, the things I still wish had answers. In my head I started compiling a note of sorts in which I shared my experience. Careful not to be preachy or offer unwanted advice, I focused on short assurances. Then I heard a baby grunt from the other room and the vision was gone. All I remember now is that I want to tell her, “In the end, do what you think is best for your baby.”

Click here to read "Harrison Bergeron"

Bustin' Loose

Solomon was having a blast working his way out of his shirt before bath time. His bath today was especially fun. Solomon waved his arms in the air like a monkey and kicked his legs like a frog, all the while grinning up a storm. Getting out of the tub is another story: he screamed like a banshee. I’ve hypothesized that the transition is upsetting because it reminds him of birth. (Special message to any readers interested in Language Arts: note the figurative language.) Rereading yesterday’s entry, I realize that a more catchy title might have been “Sh*ts and Giggles.” However, good manners kept me from exposing you, my dear reader, to such profanity, especially on a Sunday, especially on Mother’s Day. But it is apropos, don’t you think?