Manic Digression

One of the joys of this age is that Zephyr is displaying a wider range of emotions. Instead of being joyful all the time (which I love, don't get me wrong), he's actually starting to reveal a moodier side typical of toddlers. So now, when we're playing and having a grand old time, he's prone to going from manic grins and peals of delight...

...to disgruntled sneers and indignant whining, in mere seconds. The unhappy times are usually directly related to the focus of my attention. Specifically, when my attention is on something other than Zephyr, he's mad. He wants to be held all the time, and is nursing a lot more than he did months ago. He has recently discovered that if he shoots me a soft look and delicately strums at the collar of whatever shirt I'm wearing (while uttering "neh, neh?"), that I will nurse him. Now that he knows how to ask for it, he does. Frequently.

Lately he's really into reading, which is an early relief from my fears that he will have inherited one of his uncles' demeanor instead of that of his bookish parents. It's still early, I suppose, but Scott and I have been nurturing this love of books at every turn. He loves books so much, in fact, that he will grab our fingers to point to each word and picture on a page, and now even grabs his own feet to use as pointers on the pages, which looks like he's trying to breakdance on his books. When he thinks no one is watching, he will use his own fingers and mumble to himself the words of the story.

He also really loves balls these day. "Buh! Buh!" he'll insist, and then we play a rousing game of Roll-and-Catch, or if I need a break, Fetch. He loves his big green ball so much that he will lay down with it and give it a little hug (Scott thinks he's just pressing his ear to the ball to enjoy the warped sound, but he does this to his soft toys too, and I can't imagine they distort sound much. I also choose to think Zephyr is engaging in this activity for the cuter of the two possible reasons.)


***
Lately I've been feeling really disconnected from my own family. Most of it is my own doing - I haven't talked to my father since last summer. I'm pissed that he forgot to call on Zephyr's birthday, and prior to that, he'd only called me to ask to borrow money (this was the same day as Zephyr's surgery last summer, and he never even called to follow up on Zephyr's progress). My brother and dad, as far as I can tell, think that my dysfunctional childhood is a figment of my own exaggeration, and that I should "get over it." For the better part of my adulthood, I thought I had buried most of it, and I have been pretty stalwart and callous about it all, but motherhood is dragging up a lot of heavy shit that I thought I dealt with a long time ago.

I'm furious that my father hurt me, my brother and my mother, and that he continues to gloss over all of it as excusable because he was drinking at the time. Yes, I'm still pissed about that. I'm furious that my brother idolizes a man that was so disrespectful and irresponsible to his children and partner, and I'm furious that my father allowed my only brother to walk down the same tragic, mistake-fraught path by preventing him from experiencing any of the consequences of his own fucked-up decisions. I have missed out on a brother that could have been a great man, and I am really pissed about that. I'm tired of being treated as a self-righteous martyr because I chose not to become a statistic and instead fight to be the opposite of these people.

I will do anything to make sure that Zephyr has everything I didn't have, not the least of which is stability, predictability, and freedom from violence. The other shit - opportunities to develop his talents, to have friends stay the night for pizza and too many video games, to be in sports or plays or band or whatever the hell tickles his fancy - I will make sure he has that, too, frivolous or not. If it means I need to check out of the family for awhile (or forever), so be it.

Choosing to have children is the greatest act of egomania in which person can indulge. Having a child says, "I am so important and special that more of my DNA should be in the world." To have children without at least the intention of doing a better job than our parents is smug and lazy. To be a survivor of horrible shit and to then say, "it was good enough for me, it's good enough for mine" is utter sociopathy.

Lucky 13

Zephyr is 13 months old, and as you can see, still has only 3.5 teeth (the second top incisor is still only halfway down). He still crawls and cruises more than he stands unassisted. In a characteristic fit of motherly concern for the truancy of his milestones, I finally peeked into my and Scott's baby books to find out who's genes were to blame, and I am happy to say that it's Scott's fault. He didn't start walking until 14 or 15 months. I started walking at 10 months. So I guess I should say "oh Jesus Christ, thank goodness that Zephyr takes after Scott and not me."

I recently read that infants who spend more time in the crawling phase statistically test higher in preschool than those who walk early, as reported in this article. It turns out that late walkers tend to be smarter. I wonder how much of this is related to later walkers' tendency toward caution and easy demeanor; Zephyr is just more content playing studiously with blocks or drumsticks than he is running around in fitful expression of gross motor skills.

I also recently read that babies who get their teeth late are more likely to require orthodontics later in life (according to a study reported in Science Daily). Scott had braces as a kid and still requires quarterly maintenance on his self-described "fucked-up grill." I, conversely, have naturally straight teeth, which is a good thing because my parents never would've coughed up the dough for orthodontia, had I needed it. I had five teeth by 11 months, Scott didn't get his first tooth until he was 8 months old. So this one is his genes, too. I still that hope Zephyr misses out on the allergies and asthma, but if it didn't stop Scott from having good times as a kid, I can't see why it should stop Zephyr.


Here he is catching a cat hair in a sunbeam, the little genius. Note the perfect action sequence of his dropping the purple ring to grab the bit of sundander.

Another trait of Zephyr's that is typically linked with smarts is long sleeping. Last week, we made a one-night attempt to let him cry it out (going in to pat him on the back instead of nursing), but it was a complete failure. I ended up caving like usual, nursed him for comfort and returned him to his crib and he slept fine the rest of the night. The following night, he woke twice but soothed himself back to sleep. The two nights following that, he didn't wake up at all. I got all excited that maybe he figured out that we're getting serious, but the past couple of nights he's been back to waking up once or twice to nurse. I am still trying to figure out if it's just that he's teething or has the sniffles, and whether or not we should bite the bullet and go full-on Ferber with him, or if it'll just pass as soon as he's back to 100%.


It's official: Zephyr's first sentence is "more food." That's my boy! He knows all of the words that pertain to food. If you ask him, "Zephyr! Are you hungry?" he says "fffffuh." "Zephyr! Do you want breakfast?" "Ffffuh." Lunch, dinner, snack: "fffuh!" After he's finished a bowl or plate of whatever he's eating, we ask him if he wants more and show him the sign language. He can now say "muh! fffffuh!" while clapping his fingers together. Yes, there is a chance he is actually saying "motherfucker," but in this context I am choosing to think he means "more food." I usually do give him more, except yesterday he ate almost all of two full adult-sized side dishes of beans and tofu and kept opening his mouth for more, before I decided that I didn't want him getting a tummyache and put the breaks on it. He got mad and whined about it.

Speaking of food, he's got a few food milestones that I'm proud of this week. A few weeks ago I put a sturdy box (about 6" tall) on the floor and taped a place mat to it so I have a place to give him a snack without having to get him all suited up at his high chair. Things like berries or cubed cheese are an easy thing to feed him, and he loves them, so he's unlikely to dump them or make a mess. He's gotten so tall, though, that he sort of hunches over the "table" and looks like he wants to sit down, but there's no place for his legs. So I seated him on top of the box and pushed one of those small Ikea bent wood end tables in front of him - it fit perfectly, and he just sat there all matter-of-fact like, "yup. this is mah snack table and I have snacks here." And he just ate his little fruits and drank his little cup of milk with a straw instead of the usual throwing-the-sippy-cup debacle. And now that he's suddenly interested in drinking cow's milk, I can quit sweating the constant nursing and pushing cheese on him, because I know he'll get his RDA of calcium. Now nursing can be for comfort and snuggling, and he'll get his antibodies from me.

Today he fed himself completely and neatly using his spoon. This might sound like a non-event, but until now I've had to either give him finger foods or put food on his spoon and hand it to him, then pick his spoon up off the floor after every bite. Today, he spooned his chicken and stars right into his little mouth like it wasn't even a Thing. But it was a Thing! I think what may have tipped the scales for him is that I let him use a "real" spoon instead of giving him his usual baby spoon. And I sat there with him, eating the same food as he was having.

We just chatted like old friends, eating our soup and crackers, and then we cleaned up and had some story time in the living room.

Fledging

Now that we've passed the one year mark, I guess I am only updating the blog when there's something noteworthy, like a new first or an achievement unlocked. Does that seem fair? Maybe I'll just update each week with photos? Or maybe I'll pick it up again after the holidays. I'm in the process of putting last year's better posts into his scrap book so he'll have something a little more analog to have when he's older, but even this is really so much better than doing a store-bought baby book. Scott and I actually have the exact same Hallmark baby books from our respective infancies - his blue, mine pink.

His one-year check-up was the Tuesday after his birthday (the day after the last post), and though he's still not walking, he does have the dubious honor of continuing to be above the 100% centile for height (at 32.5" tall). His weight was 26 lbs, landing him at the 88th centile, and his head has grown to the 93% centile. That is such a weird measurement to take, I think, but there it is.

He's cut his fourth tooth, his top incisor now has its mate. It's just poking through, and he keeps his finger jammed in his mouth pretty much all day. Between that and the perpetually runny nose he's been sporting, he's been kind of a pain in the ass. I mean, he's still a sweet, funny kid, he just has a bit shorter fuse. Coupled with his attempts at new physical feats (like climbing onto and falling off of his little box-table 6" off the ground), there've been a few more tears than we're used to around here. He's definitely stretching his little wings a bit more these days, experimenting with autonomy.

He missed a few naps over the weekend, because I was gone to a holiday bazaar (where I was selling my poorly-made homemade soft toys) and though I was able to get him down for his morning nap before I left for the day, he didn't really go down for any kind of afternoon nap and this resulted in a little more night waking than I can really tolerate. I'm thinking of night weaning him over the holiday, since Scott will be home for a few days to help with the night parenting without it cutting into his workday performance. It feels really drastic to even think about cutting him off, but I'm just feeling really beat down by motherhood these days. I'm carrying a lot of back pain and my upper body joints pretty much all ache. I need to sleep more than four hours uninterrupted (he still sleeps from roughly 7:00pm to 7:00am, but wakes once or twice, and I nurse him back to sleep to expedite things). I put the Totoro pillow that I made him in his crib to try to help soothe him, and I'm hoping that helps. I just found out that he even likes that thing - Scott sent me a picture last week of Boosh laying down on top of it, sucking his thumb. In the middle of the day. He just grabs it and holds his face against it and knows it's for snuggling. That's its purpose.

Being a goofball in his robot pajamas ("robut jams") and his Halloween hat

He's starting to pick up more and more language, and that means I need to start watching my mouth around him. He actually does a perfect mimic of my exasperated groan, the one I let out whenever I'm driving. (Seriously, people cannot drive in this town. It's just rain! It does that here.) When we ask, "Zephyr! Are you hungry?" he says, "Ffff! Fffff!" (for the sound of us blowing his food to cool it down), and now we can play the Where's Mama's (insert facial feature here) game and he will point to the appropriate feature most of the time. We are careful not to ever ask about eyes, because then he will laugh and think it's funny to poke my eyes out. He already thinks it's hilarious to flip over in the middle of every diaper change unless I turn the TV on to distract him, but this requires me to only change him on the couch. I'm hoping this is a phase he outgrows soon.

His favorite toys are still pretty much just household items: wooden spoons, finger bowls, recyclables like berry pint boxes, shipping boxes (we gave him a giant box that still has the paper packing material in it and decorated one of the flaps to look like a computer keyboard, and he thinks it's pretty awesome in there), empty plastic bottles, that sort of thing. He's really into stacking rings these days, and is gaining more dexterity to actually fit the rings onto their stem. He will open books and "read" them to us, mumbling little words quietly to himself in a language we don't understand.

We bought a mini tree, against my better wishes. The potted trees were all around $50, but it was only $15 for a little tabletop fir. Besides, it supports our local economy. This will be his second Christmas, and I know it'll probably be the last one where we decide what he wants. I really can't wait to see the boy he'll become, but I'm trying my best to relish these last moments of his babydom.

The Cheese

We survived Zephyr's first birthday party the Saturday after Thanksgiving. We had cupcakes and bubbly to ring in the occasion, to celebrate passing our first year as parents and for keeping him alive. There were about a million kids in our house, running laps like wild dingos, and yet I completely kept calm and nothing got broken. It was amazing (the me-keeping-calm part).



He has more tomato sauce on his face than cupcake, I almost feel sad about this. I should've wiped his face off before giving him his cupcake so I could get good photos. Oh, well.

Oh, man, new stuff:

He's repeating animal noises, like the high-pitched "whee-e-e!" of a horse (I try to make realistic animal sounds for him, and my "neigh" is right proper), the low "mooooo" of a cow (his is a guttural groan) and random sounds I've assigned to the insects on his favorite puzzle. Bees and flies are no-brainers, but I've decided the wings of a moth go "thfthfthfthf" and spiders go "bulubulu" when they crawl. He's also stringing together more syllables on his own, in response to us and to tell us his thoughts on various matters. We'll try to remember to nod and shake our heads more so he can communicate the basic "yes" and "no," and eventually "no" will become his favorite word.

And big one this week: he stands alone! He just sort of did it one day last week, then again for a few seconds longer, and now we'll just look up and notice that he's fully standing unassisted, playing with a puzzle piece or somesuch. The funny thing is, he doesn't seem to realize it's a big deal and doesn't look at us for a big "ta-da" or anything. He's just like "finally, I can use both hands for playtime. It's about time."

Independence is his main goal, now, as evidenced by his inability to hold still for a diaper change (we've taken to just changing him on the couch and turning on the TV) and his newfound tendency to throw his spoon and bowl onto the floor when we try to help him eat. We try not to get too mad about it, and instead just say, "that's not cool, Zephyr."

But we really just need to let him do his thing, let him know that we trust his abilities (new and shaky though they may be), and let him fuck up once in awhile. It's the best way for anyone to learn, and I know I'm not doing him any favors when I fix everything for him. It'll take some doing for me to learn how to step off and get out of his way, but I think every mother struggles with this. I know I will, probably forever.

Hey Shorty

Our baby boy is one year old today. I have fleeting memories of those first everlasting days together. The two hour cycles that led from that first day to the middle of spring in one long, dreamy stretch of bleary time are a thing of the past. Then, I could hardly put him down, and now I can barely pick him up.

He is scarcely the tiny breeze he was when we first met; he is now a dynamic, powerful, gale-force wind - a wee hurricane. He has changed so much I can hardly keep up, and he continues to evolve and grow faster than a williwaw. Yet he still lives up to his name:

Zephyr

The name Zephyr has evolved from the ancient Greek word "Zephyros", meaning light and beneficial. The Zephyr is a gentle breeze from the west during the summer solstice, and is comfortable for the people it blows upon.

For his birthday, we let him eat all the blueberries he wanted. I even put freshly-whipped cream on some of them (this confused him, and I think he prefers them unadulterated). He had two (tiny baby-sized) helpings of pumpkin pie. And for dinner I made him special turkey broth-soaked tofu cubes, which he happily crammed into his mouth one by one. He really loves tofu.

Zephyr is going through a clingy phase right now, preferring playtime from the comfort and safety of a lap, or opting for cuddles and tickles rather than balls and cars. He is giving many more hugs and wet, open-mouthed kisses, and I just can't get enough. I expect it's a developmental milestone about to strike, so I'm relishing every delicious, snuggly moment before he's too busy running down the cats and climbing stairs to hug his mama.

He sings with us during his lullabies, lilting, making the sweetest babymusic. He dances to all kinds of music and with equal aplomb: Cat Stevens, Kanye West, Department of Eagles, Andrés Segovia, and the lyrical stylings of his two parents - an earnest presentation of Twinkle, Twinkle Little Star (sung desperately to stave off a launch off the changing table while struggling him into his nightly jimjams) will usually invite him into a little on-the-back dancing. Usually his dance is a back-and-forth head bob, but he will sometimes employ the full knee-bounce if the groove is just right.


Our little boy is a thing to behold. I can't wait to see what the next year has in store for us.

Toofsome

We finally have a third tooth. Just in time for his first birthday next week! You can see it there poking out. I keep hoping he'll end up with a diastema. Since Scott and I were both gap-tooth kids, signs point to 'yes'. Mine was "fixed" when I had a crown put on my front tooth (I broke it in half on my 18th birthday), and I wish they'd left it alone. Oh well, chances are Zephyr'll have one, and will hate it, and I'll always tell him how awesome and adorable it makes him, but he'll never believe me.


Here he is practicing his waving. He does this a lot, waves to himself by opening and closing fingers like the sign for "nurse." He will actually chase the cats through the house on all fours and stop to wave at them (he combines the wave with the "c'mere kitty" sign when he does this).

I have no idea, either. Best just leave this one a mystery.

His new camera face, though, appears to be bracing for the flash. I hate using the flash, but it's so dark all the time now, what with the rain and all those moody doldrums in the air. Nowadays we spend a little more time snuggled under a blanket watching cartoons and a little less time strolling around. I do get stir-crazy, though, and I'm sure he does too. Our house just doesn't feel big enough for all his explorations and I will probably start making the pool a more regular occurrence. I want to take him to one of those baby gyms but I don't want to expose him to all the ick that covers toddlers. But I know his little immune system needs a workout, too, so maybe I'll concede. Or maybe I'll just invest in some good rain gear for him.

Other news this week:

• Stacking is sticking around. He will stack things up in his hands, Scott's hand, and mine. However, if I am the one who stacks, he instantly destroys the stack. This has prompted the invention of a new game: How Fast Can You Stack Before Baby Smash
  
• He can use the sign for "more" (though it ends up being more of a touching his palm with his index finger), and he uses it a lot for food. If he thinks I'm holding out with fruit, he will ask for more until he's eaten about twice the capacity of his stomach.
  
• He freely gives objects to me if I present my open palm.
• He can drink with a straw (though he still prefers to empty a cup all over his dinner tray and himself).
• He can climb up and back down stairs. One more hallway needs blocking.
  
• Today he opened the under-sink cupboard. I went to put the locks on it, but turns out, we bought 5 of the latches for the fridge and none for cabinets. There is presently a rubber band around the cupboard handles, and this seems like it'll do the trick just fine.
  
• He can now stack those stacking rings back onto their peg instead of just picking them off and throwing them to watch how far they'll roll.
  
• He will put his toys BACK in their basket when I ask him to! Sure, he often picks up the basket and dumps them back out, but then he puts them back in!

This is all pretty much in one week! I can't believe how fast things change; once he's picked up some momentum, this boy is unstoppable.

Detachment Parenting

I'm just not cut out for attachment parenting. Sure, I wear Zephyr strapped closely to my body, but that's only because it's so much faster than opening the stroller every time I need to do some grocery shopping, and time management is important.

I still nurse four times a day (and will probably follow World Health Organization advice and continue to do so for another year or so), but it's only because I can't be bothered to walk around rocking him when I can just stick a tit in his mouth and put him right to sleep. Zephyr slept in bed with us until he was five months old or so, but that was just because I was too lazy to get up to feed him in the middle of the night.

We use cloth diapers, but I guess I should come clean and admit that it's really because I like saving all that money by not using disposables. I even make my own organic baby food and everything, but that's because I have control issues and want to spare myself future food struggles. Completely self-serving, I assure you.

Try as I might, I just can't accept the whole-package attachment parenting dogma. You know why?

• There is no magical "village" that lets modern mothers have their proverbial (gluten-free) cake and eat it too. So get over the idea that it takes one to raise a child. Okay, there's that one village in Opuwo, Namibia where Babies was filmed. Why don't you move there and tell me how you like it. I'm sure not being vaccinated will work out really great.
  

• There is no scientific evidence supporting the claim that ADD, ADHD, learning disabilities, autism, dyslexia, dyspraxia, asthma, bed wetting, thrush, finicky eating, chronic ear infections, multiple sclerosis, fibromyalgia, chronic fatigue syndrome, rheumatoid arthritis, lupus, type-1 diabetes, chronic cystitis, colic or eczema are caused by an imbalance of gut flora, nor that they can be treated or cured by putting someone (young children, in particular) on a restrictive diet. On the contrary, the author of Gut and Psychology Syndrome (and accompanying GAPS diet), Dr. Natasha Campbell-McBride* has been published in a peer-reviewed medical or scientific journal exactly ZERO times.
  
  

• Discipline is not the same as punishment. Boundaries and structure make children feel safe, not "dishonored." There's a very thick line between the kind of discipline I got as a kid (hint: my dad thought Dr. Spock was a "fucking bleeding-heart pinko") and saying "no" to discourage unwanted behavior. Let's just grow a pair as parents and be the authority figures we spent our teen years raging against.

• Letting a three year-old (or a two year-old, or a one year-old) cry and scream out a tantrum will not cause permanent neurological damage. There is a difference between letting a baby blow off some steam and abject, Ukrainian orphanage-level neglect. A really, really big difference.
  

• There is no scientific evidence that supports the claim that bedazzling a baby in amber, no matter how old, unpolished, or Baltic, will prevent or treat teething pain.
  

• Conventional, rigorous education will not destroy a child's creativity or "spirit." Your hang-ups about conventional, rigorous education might destroy a child's creativity or "spirit." Parenting from the emotional baggage from your own childhood probably will.

I know, I know. Zephyr is definitely going to grow up completely brain-damaged. Sociopathic, probably. He'll require tons of antidepressants and therapy. Because clearly, his mother doesn't love him enough.

*Campbell-McBride wrote (and self-published) Gut and Psychology Syndrome based on anecdotal evidence using her own child as a subject, and runs a clinic in the city of Cambridge (though she claims she's "at Cambridge," falsely implying she's affiliated with the University of Cambridge). Dr. Campbell-McBride is a graduate of the obscure Bashkir Medical University in Russia. Her website is run by NuTriVene, a company that sells the nutritional supplements that her dietary program prescribes.