Up, Up, and Away

Eamon and Mommy on the beach

Aaron decided that he wanted to go to Boston during my Spring Break. He hadn’t really gotten to see Boston the last time he was up in Massachusetts, and gosh darn it, he wanted to go. I put up absolutely no fight, as that’s the area where my best friend, Julie, lives. I profoundly agreed that Boston had a lot of history that deserved to be seen…and then I called Julie and worked it out so that her husband, Nick, would do all the sightseeing with Aaron while Julie, Eamon, and I could hit the malls.

We knew that we were going to fly. Air Tran flies out of the Newport News airport, which is only 10 minutes away from us, and has really cheap flights to Logan Airport in Boston. We could easily afford tickets for Aaron, me, and Eamon. We decided to buy Eamon his own seat since he’s a big, squirmy kid and we didn’t like the idea of trying to wrestle him still for the hour and a half plane ride. We took our car seat since we heard that we could strap it into the airplane seat…and therefore strap Eamon into the car seat.

How was flying with a toddler? Interesting. Actually, he’s a very good little guy, so it wasn’t too bad. It was also easier because Julie’s sister (also a Kate) lent us a Pack n’ Play, stroller, and toys so that didn’t have to lug all that through the airport. On the plane ride up, the flight attendants told us we couldn’t use the car seat (grr) so we had to check it and Eamon ended up sitting on my lap most of the time because it only took him about a minute to figure out how to unbuckle his lap belt.

We were really waiting for Eamon’s ears to act up on the descent. Aaron had ear problems growing up, and I always ended up with ear infections when flying. We let Eamon have his pacifier (which we usually only do at night), and he only pulled on his ear about twice. He was absolutely fine otherwise. I don’t know how he avoided getting the ear issue genes, but thank goodness he did.

Eamon pulled over the dog bed, crawled in it, and watched his Sign Language videos while Julie's poor dog, Oz, looked on in confusion.

While in Massachusetts, Eamon was mostly able to stick to his routine. We had a pretty great time. On Saturday, when we arrived, Julie dropped Nick and Aaron off in Boston to do all manner of historical things (Aaron told me what they all were, but it’s possible I wasn’t really listening). Julie, Eamon, and myself hit the mall. I love the malls in Massachusetts. They have the same stores as down here, but they’re about three times bigger and have a much better selection.

Eamon watched Julie's three year old niece and nephew drawing with sidewalk chalk, but obviously didn't *quite* understand the concept.

On Sunday, we went to Easter dinner at Julie’s parents’ house. We really weren’t planning on spending Easter in Massachusetts; we just didn’t realize that Easter was during the first weekend of April this year, which is also my Spring Break (our school division has Spring Break the first week of April every year, rather than tying it to Easter). Julie devised an Easter Egg hunt for Eamon and her niece and nephew, Daniel and Riley (who are both three). Eamon didn’t entirely understand the Easter Egg hunt, but Daniel kindly picked up all Eamon’s eggs for him and put them in Eamon’s basket (Daniel was very worried that Eamon wasn’t going to get any Easter eggs, which is just plain sweet).

With Mommy's help, Eamon picked up an Easter egg and put it in his basket before wandering off to do something else (eat a stick, I think).

On Monday, we attempted to go to Sturbridge Village. We drove the hour out there, only to find it closed. So we turned around and instead went to the mall (yay!), and then spent the rest of the day relaxing and letting Eamon terrorize Oz, Julie and Nick’s rather skitterish but lovable dog. That evening, Aaron’s cousins Kristin and David came over, which was great, since we think they’re lots of fun but don’t get to see them often as they live in Massachusetts. On a side note, I watched Eamon take his Easter basket, dump all the eggs on the ground, and then proceed to put them all back in the basket, so he did get the concept—just a day late.

Eamon and Julie examine shells on the beach. Julie attempts to explain what each shell is while Eamon attempts to eat it.

On Tuesday, we went to Salem. Unfortunately, it was overcast and rainy (the weather was beautiful the rest of the time). Also, we couldn’t really do any tours with Eamon. Aaron went on one tour while Julie and took Eamon to small beach and then perused an antique shop. We then went to a very rickety little wax museum. Because it was rainy and things were pretty overpriced, we decided to just head back to the car and drive to the airport. On the way back, we stopped at one of those vintage photo places and Julie, Eamon, and I dressed up as Salem witches because…well, we wanted to. Again, Eamon was spectacular and put up with us.

We were hoping that on the car ride to Boston, Eamon would nap…but he didn’t. He got ridiculously overtired, but even so he was just manically running around. He was pretty happy and would follow directions as long as you kept him moving and didn’t let him get bored (like, not even for a second). On the plane, the flight attendants not only let us use the car seat, but even showed us a sticker on our car seat and that said it was acceptable for airplane use. We strapped Eamon in and within a minute after take-off, he was fast asleep.

It was a good trip. Eamon is a good little traveler, and I know that as he gets older and even more able to understand and cooperate (and carry his own things!) we’ll be going lots of places with him.

Goodbye, Julie! See you next time!

Grand Re-Opening

So here’s the deal with the long absence of the blog…

There was a war going on at home. I said that I was too busy to do the blog all the time, being that I work full-time, am taking two doctorate classes, and have a child; and so, as Aaron does all that but minus the doctorate classes, it was his turn to write the blog. For reasons I can’t really understand, he wouldn’t do it (and here I feel the need to point out that he was the one who set up the blog in the first place). So I decided to be stubborn, too, and that I wouldn’t keep writing until he contributed at least one entry…

Well, anyway, I guess he wins. I finally had enough time to think about it now, over Spring Break, and asked myself why I really do the blog. It’s not necessarily because I have this overbearing need to write and express myself, because even though I enjoy writing, I do that plenty through teaching and attending classes. I write a lot. And it’s not even really for everyone else, because that simply wouldn’t be enough of a motivator right now (to write these things usually means forgoing an hour of sleep at some point). BUT, this is sort of a log of Eamon, and I want him, one day, to be able to go back and read these, his own personal little history.

So. I’m declaring Aaron the official winner because I simply can’t tell my little guy years from now that the blog just sort of faded into nothingness because mommy and daddy were both too stubborn.

Therefore, the blog will return. Who really needs sleep anyway?


This is a picture of Eamon in Salem, Massachusetts. He was dressed as a witch (why not?) and was supposed to be putting a frog into a cauldron but instead tried to eat the frog (and kept signing "eat" the whole time). This picture has nothing to do with the blog itself, but I quite like it and am therefore putting it in.

Talk A Little

For a long time, we were pretty sure that we had the next “That Guy From Police Academy Who Makes All the Sound Effect Noises” on our hands. For about the first year of Eamon’s life, he really preferred to communicate in sneezes, coughs, shrieks, giggles, grunts, or croaks. Occasionally he would utter or sing strings of random syllables, but he wasn’t at all interested in speaking.

Then, as chronicled in this blog, around one year old he instantly became interested in signing. Over night, he learned about 4 signs (most revolving around food or drink) and started using them constantly (though not always for the exact thing that he wanted; I attribute this more to not knowing what he wanted than not knowing what the signs meant).

About this time, he also figured out to shorten his strings of “mamamamamamamamama” to just “Mama” and decided that it specifically meant me. Grandma became “Nama.” No one else really got a name, though he would say “Mmmmm” when he was eating something he liked.

Then, about a couple of weeks ago, he discovered the joy of dropping things. Well, he’s always liked experimenting with gravity, but now he has a (sort of) word to go with it: “Uh oh.” Except that he can’t always get the syllables right, so it often comes out “Oh ah” or “Ah ah” or “Oh oh.” And always with a little rise in inflection towards the end, so it sounds like a question. It’s pretty darn adorable, and also useful, since he’s taken to saying it before he drops things so that you have time to catch them if you don’t want them on the ground.

The problem is, Eamon isn’t very good at speaking yet. This is understandable, since you know, he’s still kind of a baby. But he doesn’t understand why he can’t do it perfectly. There are times when he looks at me purposefully, opens his mouth, emits a syllable that apparently isn’t what he wanted, and then just closes his mouth and sighs. Like with walking, he wants to do it perfectly. If he can’t do it perfectly, he doesn’t want to do it.

The crazy thing is, he actually has said words when he wasn’t thinking about it. Twice now, he’s said his name, “Eamon,” completely correctly, in the correct context. It came out quickly, when he wasn’t really trying and we weren’t really asking him to do it. He looked as amazed as we did, but couldn’t do it again. Likewise, the other night Aaron was putting Eamon to bed: as I was leaving the room, I kissed Eamon and said goodnight, and got a reply of a wave and “Nigh-nigh.” Once again, everyone in the room looked surprised (including Eamon), but try as we all might, Eamon couldn’t repeat it.

Or last night, when he walked by my computer, saw a screensaver picture of the two of us, pointed and said in a rather flip voice, “Mama. Ea-ma” (which I assume was Eamon). When his Oma and Opa came, he regularly would point to the computer (all of which have pictures of him as the background) and announce, "Eamon." But when you point to him and say, "Who are you?" or try to induce him to say his name, he just smiles.

With walking, we eventually got him to at least practice by bribing him with teddy grahams. Once we got him practicing, he got better and better and now he wants to walk everywhere all the time. But how do you bribe him to talk, especially when he can only do it when he’s not really thinking about it?

The answer, of course, is that you don't. He'll talk when he's ready. We've taught him some basic signs, and he's learning more everyday, and there are some critics out there who might say, "Why would he bother to learn to speak when he could just sign?" Well, folks, because the signs don't take him very far. They are for things like "eat" or "drink." They don't tell us WHAT he wants to eat or drink. They basically just take the edge off the frustration, but they by no means convey the entirety of his thoughts.

And I know it's hard for him, too, because he seems to know what he wants to say. He understands a great deal of language, he just can't reproduce it. He seems to have no interest in using "baby talk." I have a feeling that one day, when his speech center really starts firing, I'll go into his bedroom in the morning and be greeted with, "Good morning, mother. Might I have some milk to break my fast this fine day?" Until then, of course, I'm happy with just an excited cry of "Mama!"

Charisma

NOTE BEFORE WE START:

EAMON WOLFE IS WALKING.

He’s still pretty shaky, and doesn’t have great balance, but he can walk across the room when he feels like it, which is getting more and more often. He still gets down to crawl when he wants to go fast, and he can’t pull to a stand without holding onto anything, so walking still isn’t his main mode of transportation. But he can do it.

NOW ON TO THE REAL BLOG.

There are no strangers to Eamon. He waves at everyone and makes it his personal goal each time we go out to see how many people he can make smile. He isn’t a pest about it (yet), but he’s far from shy.

And he has Aaron’s charisma. Oooo boy, does he have some charisma. Put it this way: if this were a D&D game, and Eamon had to roll a 20-sided die to find out his charisma score, he rolled a 25. And you might want to accuse him of somehow cheating, except that then he smiles and you sort of forget what you were so angry about in the first place.

Everywhere we go, people smile and talk to him. Sometimes, he smiles shyly and demurely hides his face in my shoulder–only to look back at the person a second later and smile again. I’m convinced this “shyness” is an act because he knows that it makes him look even more precious. He’s a cute kid, sure, but that’s not what makes him stand out–it’s his thousand-watt smile that breaks across his face whenever someone acknowledges him. It’s the kind of smile that says, “You are the most important person in the world and I am so glad that you noticed me.” People–men, women, other children–melt everywhere we go.

This can be interesting when Eamon is out with his shyer mother. While I’ve tried to work past a lot of my shyness, I’m still not determined to meet everyone in a room like Eamon is. But wherever we go, I have conversations with complete strangers–conversations that Eamon seeks out and starts (even though he can’t actually talk yet).

For instance, a couple of weeks ago, Eamon and I stopped at Subway, and there were about a half dozen people in line. I got to talk to every single one of them. I got to have a conversation with each girl working behind the counter–even the ones who weren’t preparing my sub. Eamon enchanted them all.

It’s not just at Subway, though. At the grocery store, Eamon makes it is his personal mission to get a smile from anyone behind us in line, the checkout clerk, the bagger, and anyone else he happens to notice. My mother was chased down by one of the day-managers of the store, who told her how cute Eamon was and how much they love having him come.

He’s also a hit at the pharmacy. I walked up the other day and before I said anything, the pharmacist said, “You need Aaron’s prescription?” I looked startled until I noticed that she was already smiling and cooing at Eamon. She doesn’t know me, she knows Eamon. She said, “You were here yesterday with your grandmother.” Our whole family is all famous, but only as relations to this kid.

It doesn’t take much, either. My mom went to Trader Joe’s for the first time a couple of weeks ago for soy yogurt for Eamon. Then she went back recently. The cashier looked at Eamon and said, “I remember you,” and started smiling and waving at Eamon.

All in all, we are in trouble once Eamon realizes his own charisma. I just hope that we can teach him to use his powers for good.

SNOW!

I think it may have snowed last year after Eamon was born, but of course he was too young to enjoy it. It's snowed once already this year: a paltry 1/2 inch that I pointed to from the window and said, "See? That's snow." It melted before we could really even get a chance to go outside in it.

But THIS...this is SNOW. So far, we've had about 6 inches today. And even though we didn't have any real snow gear (other than his winter coat, curtesy of his grandmother who thinks about things like that), we took him out for about 10 minutes. Mostly, he just enjoyed watching the dog run around.

Food Fight

Look, ma! I can fit six Chex in my mouth at once! (also, I just threw 2 pieces to the dog)

First of all, ever since he learned the sign for “eat,” Eamon walks around making that sign all day long. Please do not be fooled into thinking that we never feed our child—chances are that even though he’s pretending he’s starving, he actually ate 5 minutes ago.

And he’s not really that hungry. Okay, so he goes through growth spurts where I swear he eats as much as most adults, but during the first few days when we actually were just excited that he had started communicating and fed him whenever he asked—he really wasn’t really hungry even though he was signing that he was. Usually he just wanted a specific food, and usually either cereal or graham crackers. If we gave in and fed him those things each time he asked, he never wanted the things he needed to eat, like meats and fruits.

May I have some more, please?

But we are happy that he suddenly wants table food. In Eamon’s never-ending quest to stay a baby as long as humanly possible (despite the fact that he looks about two years old), he’s only just started reliably eating table food. Before, he either wanted Stage 2 pureed things or formula. Don’t think we didn’t TRY to give him table food—we gave it to him ALL THE TIME-- things that we KNEW he liked when they were pureed, so surely he should like them chopped up very small, too. But even though we tried at just about every meal, most of the food went to the dog (He’s sneaky about feeding the dog, too. He waits until you look away for a second and then surreptitiously just sort of hangs his hand down and drops the food. Except then he blows his cover by clapping because he thinks its funny).

But we are happy to announce a turn-around! Eamon has suddenly realized that table-food can be GOOD and it is better to FEED YOURSELF after all! He is now reliably eating: turkey sticks, hamburger, French fries, raspberries, blueberries, blackberries, steak, flat bread, soy-yogurt, various cereals, and graham crackers (note: not all at the same meal).

But it’s hard. Both our families have a history of allergies, and Eamon definitely has some food sensitivities. The worst so far is egg, which caused actual welts and a really upset stomach. He also appears to be sensitive to milk, tree fruits, grapes, and legumes (though thank God not wheat or soy). His reactions were all variants on rashes and upset stomachs, though nothing life-threatening.

The rascally rogue known as Blackberry Beard will steal your heart. And your berries.

So we have to be careful about what we feed him, and really don’t introduce more than one new food a week. It can take awhile. And I understand his initial resistance to eating table food: some of the table foods made him sick afterwards, unlike formula, so formula must have been better, right?

He’s also growing at a phenomenal rate, and needs a ton of protein to sustain that growth. He’s a tall kid, and though he has a healthy layer of baby fat on him, he’s pretty slender overall (he may not look it during the winter when I dress him in multiple layers of fleece, but reference the bathtime photos). He’s also a pretty active boy who only has his front teeth, which means that 1) he needs a lot of protein, and 2) he doesn’t have the patience required to sit still and chew all the hamburger/steak/turkey sticks he would need to remove formula entirely from his diet.

BUT ANYWAY…the point is that finally last weekend, we went out to a restaurant and were able to order off the children’s menu. We have turned the corner on the food front, which I suppose means we need to start having family dinners now. Hmm….

He was signing for food after finishing 8 oz of formula. He was not hungry.

Baby Steps

Unlike my husband, I am a bit...competitive. Not necessarily with other people, but against myself. If there's a top score, I want it. If it's possible to get an A, why would you want to get a B? In school, I never cared what other people got, but would rage bitterly over a grade like a 97. I missed three points? Why did I miss three points?!

But being a parent...isn't like being in school. Eamon is not a "project," and I've had to accept that I just don't have control over some things, like when he will roll over or crawl or walk. (And when you're a control freak like I am, this is a tough realization indeed.) He's a big kid, and they tend to do things more slowly, and he's a boy, and they tend to do things a little more slowly than girls, too, and he's Eamon, who also tends not to do things until he's positive he can do them more or less perfectly.

One of the hardest lessons I have had to learn as a parent was to stop.checking.the.milestone.chart.already. When I was home on maternity leave with Eamon, and had a bunch of time, I checked constantly. Then over the summer, I looked all the time, too, since I was a teacher and had a lot of time off. I was determined to find out that he was an uber-prodigy, and eagerly awaited for him to start writing Petrachan sonnets when he turned 7 months old.

Eventually, however, I came to realize that those milestone charts? They weren't helping. Because Eamon hadn't read them. He didn't know he was supposed to be sitting up by a certain date, or rolling over by a certain month. I was only making myself crazy when the "advanced" date passed us by...and then those rare times when the "average" date passed us by, too...

This isn't to say that he's behind. He's not, at all. And on some things, he is above average. Others, he's just average. He has great mechanical skills, and he's the only one year old I know who will look at something he knows he isn't supposed to touch (like an outlet), stop, think, decide not to touch it, then crawl away and clap for himself. Sometimes when he doesn't even think we're watching him! What kind of one year old has self control like that?

But other things...he is content to stay a "baby" a little longer. Because here's the thing: Eamon does things in his own time. For instance: walking. Eamon has been able to stand without holding onto anything since Thanksgiving. Over Christmas, he took his first step and promptly fell flat on his face. He cruises like a pro, but was afraid of taking another step. He's always been cautious that way: he doesn't stand up unless he knows he can get safely back down, he doesn't open drawers unless he knows he can get them shut again without crushing his fingers in them. He's a pretty careful kid.

Well, today, he took three steps for my mother. He did fine, didn't fall or anything, but didn't go very fast and was still pretty wobbly, so I think (and I could be totally wrong, because who really knows) that he decided to test it out again, realized he still didn't have particularly good balance, and decided to go back to something he knows he can do well: crawling. In a couple of days, or a week, or a couple of weeks, or maybe even a couple of months, he'll try it again and he'll have better balance and eventually he'll be confident enough to actually start running around everywhere.

And you know what? That's okay.

He'll get there, and I am finally coming to the realization that nowhere on his application to Stanford or Harvard is it going to ask the date he started walking or how many words he could say by 12 months of age.

And someday, I might even be okay with him not going to Stanford or Harvard, but like Eamon, I'm taking things one step at a time.