One Year Check-Up

Eamon Wolfe, vital stats:

Head: 18 inches (75th percentile)

Weight: 22 pounds, 9 oz (50th percentile)

Height: 31 1/2 inches (90th percentile)

Ie, pretty much where's he's been...

Basic milestones checklist:

Pulling himself to a stand unassisted: YES

Walking with or without assistance: YES (with assistance)

Says "mama" or "dada" for correct parent: 1/2 YES ("mama" only)

Eats solid foods: YES (though lately, attempting to regress to mostly formula diet; more on the whole feeding issue later)

Points to identify objects he wants: YES (just this week, whew!)

Waves "hi" and "bye": YES (last week--good job, there)

Says at least three words: NO

That last one was the only one I had to check NO on, and it was a little heartbreaking. I felt I had to give the little guy some credit, however, so I wrote in (I don't think write-ins were technically allowed, but whatever) that he does sign all the time now. And by now, I mean in the last three days. He's been signing "more" for a couple of weeks, but just recently started signing "eat," "drink," and even learned "milk" at the doctor's office.

In fact, as I was talking to the doctor about how to wean Eamon off the bottle, we kept saying the word "milk." We weren't talking to Eamon, but nevertheless, he perked up because he knew the word and started signing it. I told him that no, he wasn't getting milk right then, so he started signing for drink, and after getting a negative answer for that, he signed for eat. So maybe he was trying to prove something to the doctor just like his mother.

But it proves that Eamon is becoming more and more aware of what is going on around him. His communication center has definitely turned on, whether he's actually forming words or not (he can make all the sounds...he just doesn't put them reliably together into words). We have always played some baby sign language videos for him because he liked them and would sit still for them, but recently, he's actually been watching them. Like, learning from them.

For instance, yesterday he grabbed his turtle night-light and started opening and closing his mouth like a fish. I was terribly confused until Aaron pointed out that the "turtle" and the "fish" segment are right after one another on his My Pet Signs video.

Okay, so he's still got some ironing out to do.

But in the meantime, we all need to start being careful what we're saying around Eamon Wolfe, because suddenly...he's listening.

Meanwhile, the obligatory PHOTO YEAR-in-REVIEW:

December 29, 2008 (1 day old)

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January, 2009

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February

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March

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April

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May

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June

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July

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August

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September

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October

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November

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December 30, 2009

First Christmas(es) and Christmas Firsts

I thought it was important to write about Eamon’s first birthday sort of near his first birthday, but now it’s time to go back and recap Christmas, post pictures, etc..

Eamon had a great Christmas. True, he didn’t understand exactly what was going on, and in the true spirit of one year olds everywhere, thought it would be more fun to eat the wrapping paper than play with any of his presents. For a long time, he was sort of intrigued/frightened by the Christmas tree, but then his fear turned to all out desire to rip off the ornaments, therefore resulting in very little time actually around our Christmas tree.

We had our first Christmas on December 24 with my parents. My mom came over early in the morning to help me with the turkey (I made a turkey for Thanksgiving last year, and though it was pretty good, the skin wasn’t very crispy), then left and both my parents came back around 3:00. We had dinner around 4:00, then opened presents and played with said presents until Eamon’s bedtime.

The one picture where it looks like he is opening the presents.


On the morning of the 25th, real adventure began. We loaded up Eamon and a carful of stuff and then drove about 3 hours to our second Christmas in Severn, Maryland, with Aaron’s side of the family. In stark contrast to our December 24 Christmas (5 people, total), there were at least 30 folks wandering around this Christmas party (Aaron’s side of the family is BIG). Eamon LOVED playing with his cousin, Lucas, and various other second cousins (or whatever you call children of Aaron’s cousins). Unfortunately, he was very overstimulated by the time we left at 7PM, and screamed much of the drive to Ocean City.


Chillin' with cousin Lucas at Christmas


We drove to Ocean City because Aaron and his sister had this idea that in order to bring our children closer together, we should start doing Destination Christmases, where we go places and hang out together for several days. This year, we chose Ocean City because it wasn’t too far from anyone (about 3 hours from us and 3 hours from his sister’s family, the Molloys). We had a really cool 3 bedroom suite, complete with a full kitchen and two full baths. The unfortunate thing was that the rooms weren’t as big as the hotel had made them out to be, so our room was rather cramped with a queen sized bed and Eamon’s rented crib shoved up against the closet.


First foray into BIRTHDAY CAKE!

NEVERTHELESS—we had a GREAT time. The hotel resort had a fabulous lobby, complete with heated indoor pool and ice skating rink. More interesting than anything else, however, were Eamon’s cousins, Elise (age 3) and Lucas (15 months). Eamon LOVED having a surrogate brother and sister for the weekend. I don’t know whether Eamon will be a good big brother, but he would certainly make a great little brother.



Swimming with Lucas, Aunt Meredith, Daddy, and Oma


Even more fascinating were all the things that Eamon started doing while around Elise and Lucas. He started verbalizing even more, making more sounds. He also started “walking” when you hold his hands, instead of simply going all jelly-legs when you try to hold him up (he’s more than happy to stand on his own, but prefers to think he doesn’t need any help).



Oh the splashing you can do with THREE people in the tub!

He also had another big first step—literally. On his birthday, December 29, Eamon Wolfe took his first ever step without holding onto anything towards his Oma…and then fell flat on his face. He wasn’t hurt, and his Oma was right there to mostly catch him. Nevertheless, he was a bit startled and hasn’t tried it again since. He will, however, take steps between things now, as long as he knows there’s something to grab on the other side.

His latest endeavor, however, has been with making more sounds. For awhile (like, at least a couple of months), he’s been making the sounds, “Mamamamamamama.” But for the most part, they didn’t mean anything, and he did it all the time, whether I was around or not. But lately, he’s only been making his “Mamama” sounds when I am around. Then, on New Years Eve, as I was putting him to bed, he looked right at me and said, “Mama.” I still didn’t get too excited, until I was holding him and playing the Mama/Eamon Game (you know, where I point to me and say “Mama” and then I point to him and say “Eamon”, and be quiet, it’s a great game if you’re one year old). He took his bottle out of his mouth and also said, very clearly, “Eamon.”

Well, now. He had NEVER put those sounds together before. And I couldn’t help but think that it was far too much of a coincidence that he said his name DURING the Mama/Eamon Game. So, even though it’s been 2 days and he hasn’t said “Eamon” since, I am still deciding that he said his first words on December 31, 2009. I’m going with “Mama” as the first word, which means that all subsequent children will have a lot to live up to. Way to wreck the curve, Eamon!

Elise, Uncle Marty, Aunt Meredith, Opa, Elise, Oma, Mama, Daddy, and Eamon Wolfe

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.

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.

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.

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!

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...

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

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

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

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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.

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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.