30 December 2009

Ode to a One Year Old

Dear Eamon Munro Bennett Wolfe,

Hiya, Birthday Boy (okay, I’m a day late. Soooo sorry. But as you know, we were traveling home from vacation yesterday, and then there were suitcases to unpack, and naps to be had, and well, you know).

So, when I was younger, my dad (ie, your Grandpa) used to build computers. He always had spare computer parts lying around, and sometimes I would wake up and there would just be this extra whole working computer sitting there. I don’t know how he did it, but suddenly it was like this computer had always been there.

Sometimes I feel that’s what happened to your Dad and myself. It’s amazing, really, to think that you—something so fabulous and wonderful—came from spare parts. That one day your Mom and Dad got it into their silly little heads that hey! what this place needs is a BABY, whoop—we up and had one.

And now, I can’t imagine a time when you didn’t exist. No, seriously, I was just having this discussion with your father the other day. I honestly cannot comprehend sleeping in until, I dunno, WHENEVER, just because I could. I can’t imagine going somewhere and not packing the kitchen sink with me, and I can’t remember what it was like to go somewhere without budgeting in naptime.

BUT, I also can’t remember getting up in the morning and not cuddling you as you slurp down your milk. I can’t fathom a world without the sound of your staccato chuckle quietly ringing through the air. I really don’t remember how I existed before I saw your smile, the one that lights up your eyes, your face, and the entire room.

I guess what I’m trying to say is—I love you, man. And I can’t wait for all the many years to come.

17 December 2009

Eamon vs Bedtime

A chair just my size!
If you have paid attention to this blog, there are few, if any pictures of our precious boy upset. This mainly due to the fact that he is generally a happy kid. Smiley, good natured, and happy. Eamon has a tendency to complain (or voice his unhappiness) when there is something really wrong- not just for the sake of pouting or general grumpiness.
Ready for bath-time!
As he approaches his first birthday, he had settled into his routines and is content. He loves the water, in any form- which is pretty remarkable considering his first foray into the pool was less than encouraging. His latest interests are removing things from cabinets, shutting and opening doors, and fooling with the remote. Ok, the remote is not new, but now he has figured out that pressing the buttons causes the TV to do things, which is great fun.
Playing with the computer keyboard
Dogs are HILARIOUS. Dogs running are MORE hilarious. Nesta does not find nearly as much entertainment in Eamon as he does in her. Climbing in and out of Nesta's crate is always an adventure. And he's perfectly happy going up stairs, not so confident with the going down part.

The one constant here is that he finds great joy in almost all walks of life. Almost. He does pretty well with the car, but is growing more and more wary of going from place to place. Methinks this is due to the fact that he can't explore, move around, and remove things from other things while strapped into the seat.
Splashing is FUN!!!!
The car has nothing on bedtime. When we go into his room for his bedtime ritual of changing, reading and singing (me, not him, silly), he transforms from the lovable, laughing kid we all adore to a screaming mess. No amount of "near and far" or blowing raspberries can break him out of his emphatic dislike for disrobing and getting ready for bed.

So for all of you that secretly curse us for our (usually) mild-tempered, happy-go-lucky guy, I submit the following:

Of course, even while expressing his displeasure at getting ready for bedtime, he can still stop and mug for the camera.

20 November 2009

Eamon's World

Well, folks, we have finally gotten to that stage: the attachment stage. The stage where Eamon wants everything to stay exactly as it is right now and doesn't want anything to ever change. Of course, his right now changes constantly, so what he wants changes, too.

What I mean is this: if you are the person holding/cuddling/playing with Eamon, he wants you to be the person holding/cuddling/playing with him forever. The longer that you hold/cuddle/play with him, the more attached he grows and the stronger his sentiments when he is expected to go to someone else.

I get up every morning with Eamon, and after having breakfast and getting him dressed, we hang out. This involves watching sign language videos, cleaning the kitchen, exploring the house, etc.. And some mornings, it involves me holding him almost non-stop while I wander around the house doing things (his decision; sometimes he's just more clingy than others). He is perfectly happy, because he has his Mommy, and he never wants that to change.

Then my mother comes to pick him up around 7:15. He is happy to see her, but no, he does not want her to hold him. No, Grandma, Mommy is holding me. He is Mommy's boy and would be content to just stay that way all day long.

Of course, we manage to detach him from me and get him in the car anyway. Once in the car, he sort of accepts his fate and happily goes back to Grandma's house, where he plays with her all day long. They run errands together and have a grand ole time. And to Eamon, that is perfect. He never wants that to change. He loves Grandma, and Grandma is the only person he could ever need in his entire life.

Until Grandpa shows up. He loves Grandpa because Grandpa is awesome. They pry him off my mother and off he goes with Grandpa, and he's very happy with that, and nothing ever needs to change...

And then Mommy comes to pick him up from work. He has no interest in going home with me, because he is with his grandparents and that's fine with him. He clings to my mother or my father and sometimes pretends to cry when I insist on holding him. But once I whisk him out the door and buckle him in the carseat, he's fine. We go home, and hang out, and I am once again the center of his universe until Daddy gets home. Because I usually haven't seen him very long at this point, Eamon is happy to go to Daddy, and as long as we are both around, he will easily go back and forth between the two of us.

Don't worry--the bottle was sealed shut. I would never give my baby Diet Coke to drink (he prefers Mountain Dew).

But on the weekends when Daddy gets up with him so that Mommy can sleep, he is Daddy's boy, and only Daddy's boy. When I finally get up, he has little interest in Mommy until we finally convince him that I am okay, too, and then he is happy to be part of a 3-person family unit again.

And the same thing happens when his Oma and Opa come to visit. They pick him up, he warms up and gets attached, and then gets very confused when he is expected to go back to Mommy and Daddy after they leave on Saturday. Mommy who? Daddy what?

So even though it might break my heart just a bit when I go to pick him up in the evening and he cries and lunges to get back in the arms of his Grandma, I just remind myself that soon enough we will get home, we will start playing and hugging and cuddling, and I will once again be the center of his universe.

10 November 2009

It Had to Be You

I admit it, I wanted a girl. In fact, as soon as I started wanting a baby, I just knew that I would have a girl. She would be beautiful and perfect, and when she was old enough, we would get pedicures together and I would help pick out her Homecoming dress, and eventually we would be best friends and still talk almost every day (yeah, yeah, yeah, the same relationship that I have with my mom. Minus the pedicures. WHY DON’T WE GET PEDICURES TOGETHER, MOM? THEY ARE SOOOOOOO NICE).

Then, after only two months of trying, we got pregnant. (I was sure it would take months and months, or maybe years, and then whee—two months later there was that plus sign on the pee-stick. I was apparently wrong about a lot of things on the pregnancy/baby front). And within a week, I had a feeling: It was a boy. I knew it was a boy. The microscopic little creature in my womb just felt male.

Here was my first sign: I suddenly hated anything sweet. Sweet things made me sick, and I only wanted salty foods. One of my colleagues at work announced one day, “I brought you lunch!” and handed me a giant bag of Lays potato chips, and I was in bliss. A girl would never have deprived me of my brown-sugar cinnamon Pop Tarts, which I had faithfully eaten every morning for years, but suddenly turned my stomach mightily.

Another sign: the baby sat on my bladder. The entire pregnancy. From beginning to end. There was never that second trimester don’t-have-to-pee-so-much break. I always had to pee. Always. Later, when it was big enough, the little creature would use my bladder like a beanbag, digging in comfortably (well, for the baby. Not comfortably for me). A girl would have more empathy for her mother’s bladder, I was sure. Men are generally more oblivious to things like that.

I also read a checklist about how delicate male sperm are. They are fast, but not as hardy as girl sperm. There are certain things that you can do to increase your likelihood of having a boy. They aren’t fool-proof, but without going into too many details, Aaron and I unintentionally fulfilled every item on that checklist.

So when Eamon Wolfe emerged into this world and the doctor pronounced, “It’s a boy,” I just kind of rolled my eyes and thought, “Obviously.”

So. A boy, huh? I had a boy. What the heck was I supposed to do with a boy? What if he liked sports? I don’t like sports, but Aaron is a fanatic. How would I possibly compete? Was I doomed to a life of getting pedicures alone? It was perhaps a little disappointing.

And then, I got to know Eamon Wolfe.

Who might be one of the best babies on the face of the Earth. Who, a couple of evenings ago, as he was sitting in his high chair eating Rice Krispies, shoved a Rice Krispy in my mouth when I leaned over to kiss him. He then laughed hysterically, like it was the funniest thing anyone had ever done in the history of dinner. This kid has a sense of humor. It’s no P.G. Wodehouse, but for a 10 month old, I think it’s pretty great.

He is such a happy baby (except, you know, when he’s not, like when he’s tired, and then all bets are off). He’s sweet and loving. He has so much energy, but even as much as he wants to crawl, crawl, crawl all the time, he will still stop and give you a quick hug or a kiss to let you know he cares.

And he wants to be good. He, like all babies, has a fascination with anything that could kill or seriously injure him. He especially loves outlets and cords. For awhile, we would tell him “no” in our sternest voices, and he would just laugh. He didn’t understand people being angry, especially not at him. It took awhile for him to finally figure it out.

But he did. And now, when he crawls over to an outlet and thinks about playing with it, he stops and takes a long look at it. When he successfully resists the temptation, he looks at you, breaks into a big smile, and claps for himself. He is proud because he did not break the rules and wants your congratulations, too. Which we of course always give.

Eamon also likes to share. He will happily hand you whatever toy he is playing with, whether you have asked for it for not (of course, he often expects it back, because it’s not The Sharing Game unless BOTH people will share). When he eats his Cheerios, he takes a few bites and then always offers me some Cheerios, too. This of course means that I have to act excited about Cheerios soaked in baby-slobber. MMMM, THANK YOU, EAMON.

Okay, so I never imagined myself having a boy. But now? Now I can’t imagine having any baby but Eamon Wolfe. This kid is truly my world, and definitely the most perfect baby out there for me.
Hooray for Eamon Wolfe!

01 November 2009

The Many Faces of Eamon Wolfe

Eamon Wolfe wore many costumes on his first Halloween...

His first option was a Calvin Klein underwear model (Diaper Division), but that didn't seem quite right...


So then he tried going as a competitive eater (Rice Krispy Division), but that just got too sloppy...


Then he went with uber-photogenic baseball player...


Maybe with a little lip curl thrown in, too (Elvis Plays Baseball?)...


But in the end, he went with the costume that we originally bought him from Old Navy because it was more of a sleeper than a costume. And yes, he was comfy, and yes, he slept in it. Before that, he helped to answer the door and scare (okay, melt the hearts of) the Trick-or-Treaters.


And next year, he'll actually understand why Mommy insists on dressing him in weird clothes and snapping hundreds of pictures. Sort of understand, anyway.

28 October 2009

Eamon vs Inertia

As a wise man once posited, a body in motion tends to stay in motion and a body at rest tends to stay at rest. Eamon is the former.

At this point in his life, Eamon is extremely curious. About everything. He generally sates his curiosity by putting the object he desires in his mouth, but flinging things behind him is also an option.

He will ALWAYS stop whatever he is doing to mug for the camera, however.

Eamon helping put Gladware away

Eamon helping with the recycling

Eamon helping with Nesta's food

Eamon making a phone call

You see, in Eamon's World, things do not belong where they were, nor are things used as they are intended. The latter property was established early on. He always turned things upside down or used them backwards, starting when he could actually manipulate objects. This has become more pronounced as he has gotten older. For example, we got him this really cool bilingual drum that will play the alphabet when you bang on the top of it. Eamon prefers to bang on the bottom.

Eamon playing with his farm animals toy. Notice the direction the toy is facing.

When awake, he is in constant motion, and he has gotten the hang of navigating stairs. If he sees an open door, he heads for it. If he sees something shiny, he heads for it. If he sees a leaf on the ground, he heads for it. Get the picture?

Eamon helping with laundry

Eamon catching up on celebrity gossip

He has finally settled in to our new home. This makes his parents very happy. If only the dog adjusted so quickly.

23 October 2009

9 Month Checkup

(Or: A Man on the Move)

Ah, Eamon Wolfe.

9 months. (Except that he's almost 10 months old already...our doctor was sick last time so we had to reschedule the appointment that was actually closer to the 9 month mark).

My mother had to take him, because Aaron and I were working and used up most of our days off doing the closing/moving thing.

The doctor was running an hour late.

Eamon got bored.

Eamon doesn't like being bored.

He needs to be DOING things.

So the doctor's visit was a little interesting, according to my poor mother. Apparently, he spent most of his time shrieking (his happy shriek, because he was so excited to see all those other babies), trying to kiss the other babies, trying to crawl around the floor and eat everything, grabbing at the doctor's stethoscope, trying to roll off the table, and just generally being a really active boy.

So no one is too surprised that even though his height stayed in the 90th percentile (30 1/4 inches), his weight has plummeted down to the 50th percentile range (21 pounds 2 ounces).
I personally don't know how he keeps any calories.
I get tired just watching him.

But gee, he's a lot of fun, even if he never does stop moving.

08 October 2009

Slow Down Already

Hey, remember this little guy?

Haven't seen him around much lately.

Nowadays, we have this handsome devil living with us.

He's the kind of guy who would tell a joke if he could talk, but instead settles for fake sneezing or coughing to get you to laugh with him.

And he can crawl. Fast. And is into everything. EVERYTHING.

He even claps for himself when he does something he thinks is clap-worthy. Don't worry, he'll clap for you, too, when you do something clap-worthy, like, you know, entering a room. He learned to clap on the day that we moved, and also to high-five (which must always be followed by a clap).

And then sometimes he just sits there, looking entirely too old, considering he was only born about 9 months old.

So, anyway, we don't see this guy around anymore.

But then, this guy is pretty neat, too.

05 October 2009

Welcome Home, Eamon Wolfe

So, uh, we moved and stuff. And now every night is taken up with one of us taking care of Eamon and one of us continuing to move stuff out of our old house. That's when we're not both working late, or attending class, or going to district meetings.

So, yeah, things are busy. Posts might be pictures for awhile.

But the baby, he's still happy. And still very cute. So pictures posts, not the worst thing in the world.

And we will post pictures of the house, too. You know, someday. When we have some spare time. I'm thinking maybe this summer?