|
|
So the good news is we won’t be moving this year. The bad news is we won’t be moving this year because E didn’t get selected for Limited Duty Officer by the Navy. Being passed up for LDO sucks, but it sucks extra hard because I know he feels like it’s a direct judgment of his worth as a person. Which I think it RIDICULOUS because he’s amazingly good at his job, including all the itty bitty meaningless hoops the military loves to make people jump through – like always saying numbers a certain way or rechecking a valve you checked literally 30 seconds ago just because it’s a step in the procedure manual. He knows that shit inside and out. His boss got a call from another captain this week just to let him know how awesome E is and how lucky the office is to have him. And yet some guys he’s never met down in Washington DC decided he wasn’t ready to be an LDO based on a few pieces of paper and one interview. I’m so pissed on his behalf I want to punch someone and scream profanity in their stupid faces.
Last year when he didn’t get selected, I wrote a blog post for Military Spouse magazine (which seems to have disappeared into the dark void of the internets Found it) about how even though I was sad for him I was super relieved not to be uprooting our life right then. I was 8 months pregnant, the housing market had just tanked, we were kind of broke, and I was totally unprepared to start over in a new city in a new state. I got a few positive comments about how hard being a military wife can be sometimes, but one asshole wrote a jerk-off post about how I was a terrible person for even THINKING there was an upside to not getting selected, let alone writing about it on the internet. He said my selfish attitude was probably to blame and called me everything besides a traitor to our armed services. Charming and helpful all around.
This time, my disappointment on E’s behalf is greater than my desire not to upset our lives. Even though his selection would mean an even more difficult move, leaving so many more friends, losing all my real-life support, and still be a pain in the ass financially, I know how much he wanted it. How much he DESERVED it. And I am genuinely disappointed that the Navy doesn’t appreciate all his hard work. I guess I’ll just have to make sure he knows I do…until we go through this whole damn mess again next February.
After a couple of really challenging days with a baby who refused to nap and cried for no discernible reason, things are looking up in the Davis household. That’s the understatement of the year. Things in the Davis household have gone from a ticking time bomb of screaming, harsh words and hurt feelings to a princess riding a unicorn as it jumps over a rainbow and two little bluebirds fly by carrying a banner that says “Mother of the Year!!”
This change in the emotional weather is almost entirely due to the change in the actual weather – from wintery sleet and cold to gorgeous spring sunshine. There are buds on the trees. My fleece jacket is forgotten. Birds are singing. Crocuses are crocusing all over my garden. The baby got his first taste of fresh spring dirt. It’s amazing how much easier it is to be patient, loving and kind when I can entertain a bored, grumpy baby with just a few steps out my back door. It’s days like these where being a mom feels like the best job in the whole world.
 The best kind of spring flowers are the kind you never had to plant in the first place.  I'm in yur garden, stompin' on yur daffodils.  This one doesn't look so good. Let me just pull it up for you.  I'm so good at helping! I can't wait to pull up ALL the stuff you try to put in these pots!  Boy, n.: a noise with dirt on it.
The slave driver amazing mom who leads my daily torture Stroller Strides class signed our local chapter up for the March of Dimes March for Babies happening on April 25th and asked for volunteers to walk with her. Now, I love babies (good thing, since this little ginger one seems to hang around me a LOT) but walking? Not so much. Walking in the dirt? Even less. Walking three miles up and down big hills in the dirt? I’d rather have a tooth extracted. Without Novocaine. And yet for some reason I signed up anyways. I think it’s because my desire to help save babies is a lot stronger than my incredibly laziness. I mean, come on, no one DOESN’T want to save babies. What are you, some kind of monster? Do you kick puppies too? If loving babies isn’t enough, check out this picture:
Awwwwwwwww! So cute! Plus like, RESEARCH and SCIENCE and MEDICAL STUFF. The whole point of walking is to raise money for the March of Dimes so this is the part where I ask you for $5 or $10 or $20 or whatever it is you were going to spend on Starbucks tomorrow. My team’s goal is $3000 but I figured if everyone who reads here on a regular basis could give $5 (I CAN SEE YOU, YOU KNOW) I could raise $1000 all by myself and really impress my Stroller Strides class.
You can donate to my walk by clicking on that giant purple widget to the right. Go on, you know you want to. It’s for the children. Such as.
Having spent a great deal of my last few years wasting time on the internet, I’ve developed quite a few online friendships. At least they’re friendships in my head. Sometimes the other person doesn’t exactly KNOW we’re friends (HI HEATHER CALL ME) but I like to think if we ever did meet for coffee we’d chat and laugh like we’ve known each other for years and then braid each others hair. Ok, maybe no hair braiding.
Two of my internet worlds collided this week when one of my favorite people on the internet SarahMC wrote about the Radical Parenting special on Discovery Health that featured The Feminist Breeder, one of my other favorite people on the internet. In case you didn’t see the show, Sarah’s recap covers it pretty well, or you can check out the posts TFB did while the crew was filming for a behind the scenes look at her segment. I was excited to join in the conversation about the show in the Harpyness comments section, since talking about parenting is kind of my thing these days.
The show covered three different “radical” types of parenting: un-schooling, attachment parenting, and gender neutral parenting. Personally, I think the most radical of the three were the un-schoolers, whose 7 year old son and 5 year old daughter didn’t participate in any type of formal education. Instead, they learned through experiences – trips to museums, farms, zoos, etc – and studied whatever they were most interested in. They also claimed their family was a true democracy where everyone had an equal say and the kids got to make all their own decisions. I think I would have been a little more skeptical of those parents if they hadn’t come across as really sort of…normal. The parents both had advanced degrees, the mom seemed to really enjoy spending all her time with the kids, and they were really realistic about how un-schooling would affect their kids in the future. I think we could be friends. One of the things the parents mentioned a couple of times was their son had learned reading and math through his “video games” (I’m imagining V-Tech or something similar) which I was surprised about – I pictured un-schoolers are being totally TV free. I guess when you’re with your school-age kids ALL DAY EVERY DAY you’d almost have to use an electronic babysitter every once in a while.
The third family (I’ll get back to the AP people in a minute) showed The Feminist Breeder and her Hyphenated Husband (he changed his last name to their combined name when they got married) practicing “gender neutral” parenting…but if that was “radical” then I guess I am too, just because my kid had a doll in his toy box. Shocking. Truthfully, I can see how some parents (mostly fathers, I imagine) could freak out if their sons wanted to try on Mommy’s shoes or asked for a dollhouse but none of the parents I know would care. I think if the show had focused more on how the parents DEMONSTRATE gender equality – Dad doing housework, Mom using power tools, sharing childcare duties equally – they would have done gender neutral parenting a greater service.
Most of the discussion on Sarah’s post about those two families was pretty in line with what I just said – maybe there was a little disagreement regarding un-schooling – but since attachment parenting is my (accidental) area of expertise I was most interested in talking about that family. They were pretty by the book AP and practiced co-sleeping, babywearing, extended breastfeeding, elimination communication, and even baby-led weaning, with a touch of TV shock value crazy thrown in when they planted a placenta under a tree. As someone who didn’t set out to practice AP, I remember thinking all those things were weird, hippyish and uber-crunchy. Then I had a baby, discovered slings were convenient, co-sleeping was the easiest way to handle night feedings and made it through those first few awful months of breastfeeding…and became an accidental attachment parent. Which is why it was so strange for me to find myself talking about it like I was some sort of expert and even defending AP online. Although I think the weirdest part was being involved in a conversation with someone who was anti-attachment parenting. My world, both online and real-life, is full of people who support all things AP (much more than I do) so I’ve never really had anyone criticize my parenting decisions before and it was a strange experience. It was more like a discussion than an argument and I felt really good about how I described and explained attachment parenting (with a little help from Sarah’s link to my babywearing post) and even got a super awesome email from another commenter who wanted to thank me for supporting accidental AP parents. In the end, both my online conversation and the Radical Parenting special made me feel more confident that the decisions we’ve made for my family are the right ones for us.
(p.s. Over on Harpyness I use “blondegrlz” as my screen name, since I know them from my old baby-free life on Jezebel. In case you’re confused.)
I feel like this month’s birthday is going to be mostly overlooked because next month’s is SO HUGE. In just two weeks, when people ask “How old is he?” I’m going to have to start saying “almost a year old.” When you think about a year’s worth of anything it seems like a really long time. No chocolate for a year, no internet for a year, no drinking for a year, no driving for a year, no shopping for a year all sound really really hard, but when you’re actually living that year day by day it passes pretty fast. Not getting a full night’s sleep for a year sounds TERRIBLE, but I’ve almost done it. And I’ll probably do it again. Look at me already writing the 12 month post when this is the 11 month milestone. I’m going to skip right to the BabyCenter chart to save you from any more blubbering about my baby growing up sooooo faaaaaaast.
11 Month Milestones from BabyCenter
Mastered Skills (most kids can do)
• Says “mama” and “dada” to the correct parent – Uh, no. He says “mama” a LOT more than he used to but he doesn’t say “dada” very often. He does say “ba! ba! ba ba ba ba!!!” all day long.
• Plays patty-cake and peek-a-boo – He loves peek-a-boo and will play behind anything: my computer screen, the dog, the chair, a blanket, but he’s not very good with clapping yet so patty-cake is sort of pathetic.
• Stands alone for a couple of seconds – WALKS
• Cruises – WALKS
Emerging skills (half of kids can do)
• Understands “no” and simple instructions – Understands “no”, yes. LISTENS to “no”, not even a little. But he does follow simple instructions, like “bring that toy over here.” When he feels like it.
• Puts objects into a container – Puts them in, takes them out, puts them in. As long as the container is pretty big. This morning he threw his shoe in the trash and put the trash in his toy box.
Advanced skills (a few kids can do)
• Says one word besides “mama” and “dada” – See “babababa”. But he can sign “milk” and I think I saw him sign “more” and “dog”.
• Stoops from standing position – Definitely yes, he can squat without holding on to anything and stand up again. He likes doing it when he’s pooping.
So my kid really excels when it comes to physical development but is a little behind with the talking, which is the kind of thing a more high-strung mom might freak out about. If I start thinking about it too much even I get a little worried, but it’s more of a general annoyance that he doesn’t love me enough to call me Mama than a genuine concern he might be developmentally delayed in some way.
Baby Evan also has seven whole teeth with at least three more lurking just under his gums and yesterday he ate a couple of Beechnut animal crackers and part of a carrot stick. I feel like he’s right on the edge of discovering food is meant to be swallowed and one day he’ll just wake up and demand a cheeseburger and fries something really healthy and nutritious. I’m still loving baby-led weaning and highly recommend it especially if you’re as lazy as I am.
The past 11 months have been more fun, more work, more stressful and more enjoyable than any of my pre-baby life. I can’t wait to see what comes next. I apologize if the following photos hurt your uterus.
Did you know a baby could kick your ass? Apparently Mother Nature didn’t think it was enough to give human infants adorable good looks and that intoxicating baby smell to ensure their survival – she also have them ridiculous baby strength, super sharp teeth and claws.
With his ridiculous baby strength, Baby Evan can smack you in the face hard enough to make your eyes water, pinch you until you scream, and headbutt your shins leaving big ugly bruises. He also thinks it’s really funny to hold the back door shut when you’ve just run out to the car…in the snow…in your slippers to find his favorite toy of the week. Then he laughs evilly while you try to inch the door open a tiny bit at a time so you don’t knock him on his head. Because despite the ridiculous baby strength, their heads bleed A LOT when they get cracked open. Trust.
With his super sharp teeth, Baby Evan bit me on Saturday hard enough to break the skin. Through a shirt. I’m going to have a scar. FROM A BABY BITE. How’s that for the least sexy injury ever? That’s almost as embarrassing as the scar my sister has on her knee from the time she was attacked by a vicious goose.
With his claws, Baby Evan can scratch your face off, although luckily he spends most of his time trying to scratch his own face off. Just don’t try to trim them. Even when he ripped off half his toenail and smeared blood all over the house like he was auditioning for the set decorator job on Dexter he screamed at me for trying to cut the other nine nails. He’s like a badger, clawing and squirming and your only hope is to sneak up on him while he’s sleeping. And never in the history of baby care has anyone gotten a baby’s nails so even and so short that they couldn’t still scratch your cornea if threatened. BAM welcome to a total lack of depth perception.
So don’t let their cute little hands and adorable baby teeth and toddling fool you. Never turn your back on a baby.
I’m having a really ridiculous but majorly stressful problem re: inviting people to Baby Evan’s birthday party. On the one hand I don’t want to exclude anyone and end up causing hurt feelings because OMG A, B & C got invited but D totally didn’t. But on the other hand, really, who wants to waste a whole Saturday afternoon squished into my living room watching my child not eat cake and playing pin the nose on the clown? It’s my own kid’s birthday and even I think that sounds like the third circle of hell. I don’t want anyone to feel like they have to come if they don’t want to.
My problem lies in the fact that in the past six months my circle of local mama friends has exploded from exactly one (Hi Amanda!) to 15 or 20. More if you include all the kids whose name and age I can list (the true sign of mama friendship). Do I invited everyone I see on a weekly basis? Do I invite just the half-dozen people whose husbands I’ve met once or twice? Do I even invite the husbands? God, they’re going to be SO BORED. There’s not enough beer in Connecticut to make a first birthday party fun for most grown ups. What’s the level of friendship required to put someone through that? I don’t think anyone likes me that much.
And, oh nooooo, what if everyone I invite brings gifts? The last thing my spoiled kid needs is 40 toys. I really should have put one of those cute little no gifts rhymes on my invitations – like “the gift of your presence is present enough” – although considering I didn’t even remember to put Baby Evan’s NAME on the invitations maybe it won’t even matter. Maybe no one will show up. It will just be my parents and my in-laws staring at two hundred dollars worth of plastic plates and cups and candy. Of course, then I’ll be the one who feels snubbed and left out and I’ll never be able to show my face at Stroller Strides or knitting group again. I will have ruined my life over a stupid birthday party.
So listen, people of the internet and also real life friends who might stalk read my blog: I’d like to invite you. I will invite you. I did invite you. There’s probably a card in my diaper bag right now with your name on it. If you have any desire at all to be here to help celebrate Baby Evan’s first trip around the sun, let me know. I promise it will be as much fun as a first birthday party can possibly be.
In New England, as soon as we get that one glorious day of warm above freezing weather everyone goes berserk with spring fever and breaks out their flip-flops and skirts and shorts and starts acting like it’s 85 degrees out. The stores put all their jeans and sweaters on clearance and start selling bathing suits and sandals (True story – about two weeks after giving birth last April I went out to buy some non-maternity jeans to wear until I fit into my old ones. It took four stores to find one really terrible, overpriced pair because everyone was selling SHORTS). No one cares that one 45 degree day in March is usually followed by six more weeks of winter. We could get two feet of snow tomorrow and half my state would still be out in their gardens planting flowers, insisting it’s just a fluke storm and summer is just around the corner.
Having lived in New England for approximately half my life (on and off) I fall victim to this false spring every. single. year. I think it’s a form of self-preservation, since if you don’t fully enjoy the few warm days we get in February and March you’ll be hiding in a dark room banging your head against the wall waaaay before May.
Since Baby Evan is a true New England baby, we took advantage of today’s springlike above freezing weather to take him to the park. I was hoping that since he walks about 75% of the time around the house he’d really enjoy a new space to run. Instead, he threw himself on the ground as soon as he discovered the joy that is mulch. E and I spent the whole time trying to keep him from shoving handfuls of cedar bark and acorns in his mouth. I guess we can add “dirt” to the list of things he probably won’t be allergic too based on early childhood consumption. Already on the list: dog hair, cat hair, lint, yarn, dust, blood, plastic, wood and stickers. Still, I would call our first park adventure a success.
 He wasn't quite sure about the swing at first (or maybe he was just COLD, like E kept saying. "Do you think he's cold? He looks cold. Aren't you cold?")  But he definitely warmed up to it (OH MY GOD DID YOU SEE THAT PUN? BAM!)  I don't know if you can even see the baby over my ridiculously yellow sweater. I bought it this morning in a frenzy of pastel colors and tank tops at Old Navy.  "I don't know what just happened, but LET'S DO IT AGAIN"  SLIIIIIDE! SLIDE SLIDE SLIDE SLIDE SLIDE! SLIDING is my FAVORITE!  WHEEEEEEEE!!! (And just in case you're thinking I'm some sort of neglectful mother who's so busy taking pictures she sends her 11 month old down the slide alone, don't worry. I'm sitting on the end and there is NO WAY he's gonna get around me. My butt could keep eight kids on that slide.)  Oh did I say slide was my favorite? I meant stick. STICK is definitely my favorite.  Yes (despite this very questionable caterpillar climby thing - now with more chipped lead paint!!!) I think we'll definitely be back for more park.
To grandmother’s assisted living facility and grandfather’s nursing home we go! OK, so the song doesn’t work quiet as well since they sold the super cool old house (with a servant’s staircase! and a laundry chute! and a scary basement!) but we did go over the Hudson and through Western Pennsylvania Massachusetts.
I’ve felt bad for a while that almost no one on my Mom’s side of the family had ever met the baby, so this weekend my very kind, very patient, very good at driving through a frickin’ BLIZZARD husband chauffeured Baby Evan and I up to Rochester, New York for my grandmother’s 83rd birthday. I took a zillion pictures. This is going to be totally boring for absolutely everyone except for my family who was actually there so feel free to skip today’s post.
 Baby Evan's first ride in an elevator. E's face is like that because he just finished saying "You're going to take a picture of this, aren't you?"  Wheelchairs! Just like strollers, except easier to fall out of!  With Grandpa (Great-Grandpa to Baby Evan)  We were trying to figure out what Great-Grandpa would be in Swedish, since my mom is MorMor (mother's mother). MorMorFar? FarMorMor?  With Grandma (Great-Grandma to Baby Evan)  Baby Evan and his Great-Aunt Susan (Mom's sister) at the very cute bead store where she works  Mom's brother, Chuck. I really don't think Chuck would like being called a "great-uncle".  Baby Evan with my cousin Jenny, who I remember as being 6 years old. Now she has a boyfriend. I think that means he pulled her pigtales on the playground.  A jaunty hat is fun for all ages!  What do you want me to do, sing and dance? I'm smiling! Throw me a french fry or two!  The view from our hotel balcony. Rochester had about two feet of snow (with more coming down) right before we got there.  No, you cannot come out of the 7th floor balcony to get a closer look at the snow.
Because I am totally done with this snow. Screw you winter.
 Me too Mama, me too.
|
Contact Me! I love hearing from you so if you have questions, stories or ideas to share, email me at bebehblog at gmail dot com. Hate mail will be fed to the dog. He says it tastes like beef jerky.
|
