Kid Amnesiac

According to the literature, most babies sleep swaddled until they are about three months old, then they let you know that they are ready to sleep free. Key word in this sentence: “most”.

Not our guy. At three months he still needed to be swaddled to calm down from crying and to sleep more than thirty minutes at a stretch. Ditto at four months. In fact, we had friends pick up the large size swaddle that is designed for babies up to 20 pounds. “Thank goodness,” we thought to ourselves, “that will cover us until he’s nearly one!”

In those moments of gleeful relief, we failed to remember that Kentucky experiences something called spring. Last week, Matt and I realized with no shortage of terror that along with the first spring blossoms and leaf buds come actual heat. When we were outside and didn’t have to wrestle Simon into a coat, this heat seemed like a gift. When Simon kicked his feet into the spring wind and smiled, this heat was a joy. But when it was bedtime on Sunday night, we looked at his fleece swaddle wrap and realized that there was no way we could swaddle Simon with the mercury so high. Uh oh.

We had two choices: turn on the air conditioning or wean Simon from the swaddle. I’ll be honest, if Matt had supported me, I would have closed all the windows, set the AC to 68 degrees, and swaddled Simon in a heartbeat. Coming off of two nights of insomnia, I needed the sleep! But Matt understood that we needed to cross this line sooner rather than later, so we gulped hard and laid Simon down in his crib with no cover at all.

The first night, he woke up every two hours. Simon was hot, cranky, tired, and not sleeping well. We were a perfect match, as I was also hot, cranky, tired, and not sleeping well. Matt was cranky from not sleeping well, but seemed to be the only comfortable one among us.

Last night, I faced bedtime with considerable dread. I knew Simon had been hot all day, as he nursed nine times compared to his ususal six or seven. It had already been a long day, and when we put him down at 11:00 or so after his final feeding, we were both dreading the 1:00 or 2:00 a.m. wake-up. So you can imagine our surprise, our delighted surprise, when we heard the first weak cries, looked over at the clock, and saw that it was 5:30.

Our little guy slept for six straight hours–longer than he has in weeks. Longer than he did the last time we swaddled him. Hallelujah!

Like most babies his age, Simon has decided that the best way to analyze any object is to put it into his mouth. Toys, blankets, his bib, his fists, my hair, my glasses. You name it: If he can grab onto it and get it into his mouth, into his mouth it goes.

Funnily enough, Simon seems to have inherited my mother’s sensitive gag reflex, a characteristic that is ill-matched with his current oral fixation. About a week ago, my mom  and I watched in amusement as Simon shoved his fist into his mouth, gagged, and then spit up some.  As he is too young to understand cause and effect, this unpleasant chain of events did nothing to dissuade him from subsequent self-gaggings.

But things took an unexpected and hilarious turn just yesterday, when Simon grabbed my hand, shoved my index finger down his throat, and then had a huge urp. It’s not enough that my 5-month old has baby bulimia. Now he’s enlisting me as his enabler!

Parenting: It’s not a contest. Competitive parenting is unhealthy, illogical, and ridiculous. All children develop at their own rate, and comparing one to another simply adds stress to family life and potentially harms the child.

This is especially true if your kid is behind, and so I stuck with this mantra one night last week. It started when I checked out the archives of a friend’s blog to see what their son looked like at Simon’s age. And there it was, a description of him rolling over front to back and back to front. Then I checked out the photo album of yet another friend’s kid. They had a photo of her rolling over. Oh boy.

Simon, bless his heart, has done this only twice. And only in one direction. Is he behind? Delayed? Losing? These are the questions I brought to Matt. Bless his heart, Matt understands me and has a sick competitive streak himself. “Well,” he offered, “he might be a bit behind. But he’s verbally ahead of the game. He’ll beat them at talking.” This unhealty, illogical, and ridiculous point cheered me up for a bit.

Then something interesting happened. Simon had been propped up in bed for this unhealthy, illogical, and ridiculous conversation. He started to lean to the side, as he often does, only this time came off the pilow and rolled over onto his belly. Interesting–and not at all what he had in mind!

Somewhat upset, he then squirmed his way into a 1/2 roll with his upper body lifted onto his arms and looked up at us for help. We offered none, but cheered him on like madmen.

A few seconds later, Simon strained to heave himself over the rest of the way and get back to his prefered face-up position.

So there it was. A back to tummy and tummy to back roll in order. He’s on track! (sort of) He’s not behind! (much) We can put this unhealty, illogical, and ridiculous contest behind us. At least until we start noticing when other kids sit up, walk, talk, and get potty-trained.

I’m beginning to have time panic again. When I say “time panic,” I refer to the experience of being acutely aware of the passing of time and therefore not fully enjoying the moment you are in. It’s the experience of starting post-vacation let-down when you are still on vacation or dreading the end of a concert while you are still listening to it.

My current time panic is–of course–all about Simon. I last had this feeling when he was two weeks old. This weekend I again sensed that his first year is flying by and that nothing I can do will slow it down. The current time panic stands in sharp contrast to how I felt when I packed up Simon’s newborn and 0-3 month clothes earlier this winter. At that time, I was happy to see a month fly by because after the first eight weeks, each subsequent week brought a notable improvement in Simon’s mood. I was ready to put fussy days behind me and enjoy the next stage of babyhood. I was gung-ho.

Last Sunday I was back to packing up clothes again, only this time it was the smaller pieces in Simon’s 3-6 month wardrobe and the experience was much more bittersweet. I feel more connected to this wardrobe. I picked out most of those clothes myself, I chose them knowing what Simon looked like and would look good in, and I have happy memories of Simon in most of them because he had such giggly, happy days in most of them. They seem more a part of who is/was this winter than his generic newborn wardrobe ever did.

They now sit in boxes in his closet as a talisman of his happy young baby self. I tell myself I may use them again one day, but really I just feel better knowing this tangible reminder of the past few months is nearby.

The same day I was busy packing, Simon further reminded me that he is growing quickly by sitting up much better than he has before. First he enjoyed an extended sitting period in the Bumbo, then he tried out his high chair and banged on the tray like a champ. He can’t sit up on his own without some support yet, and he’s not yet on solid foods, but I can see that neither will be the case for much longer.

I am normally an impatient person who would be eager to jump ahead and learn who Simon will be as a toddler, boy, and man as soon as possible–just as I frequently read the end of books first to find out if reading the middle is worth it. During times like this, however, I’m all patience. I’m happy to keep the box of rice cereal unopened in the pantry. I’m happy to not open the jars of sweet potatoes, carrots, and squash I bought tonight. I’m happy to pull out the boxes of clothes and have Simon wear them just a little bit longer.

It makes me think of the Sandy Denny song:

“Across the evening sky
All the birds are leaving
But how can they know
It’s time for them to go?
Before the winter fire
I will still be dreaming
I do not count the time
For who knows where the time goes?
Who knows where the time goes?”

I certainly don’t know where the time goes. But I sure am counting it all the same.

One may be the loneliest number*, and D minor may be the saddest of all keys**, but around our house “b” is clearly the crankiest consonant.

As Simon continues to play with consonants, we’ve noticed some patterns emerging. One is that he says a lot of “m” sounds when I’m around, probably because Matt is trying to coax a “mama” out of him. Another is that while “hey” remains his favorite word, he still gives himself the hiccoughs when he says it many times in a row.

But the one that’s the most noticable these days is the “b” of distress. Despite our attempts to make “b” a good letter–Bubbie! Baby!–we most often hear it when Simon is getting ready to fuss. It begins as a series of “em-buh”s, then hones in on the “b”, and finally turns to a trilled “bbbbbr” right before he commences to squall and language goes out the window.

Our new friend Lisa has hypothesized that since a trilled “b” can be a game for Simon, he may be making an effort at self comfort. Interesting and entirely likely, but also wholly unsuccessful if that’s the case. On the other hand, the cranky “b” is a handy sign for us that it’s time to intervene and ward off a full fledged fit. So maybe not so unsuccessful after all.

* according to Three Dog Night

**According to Nigel Tufnel in This is Spinal Tap

Now that Simon is getting a bit older, he’s quite fun to play with. I like to read to him, and I love playing silly little clapping and lap games. The thing is, my stack of favorite books is rather short, and my repertoire of fun games is equally limited. How many times can you play itsy-bitsy spider in one day?

So I ordered a book of games and another fun book to read from Chinaberry. My order arrived Wednesday, and I was very excited. I spread out my outdoor blanket on the bed in a bid to save my bedspread from spitup messes, plopped Simon on top of it, and read “I Kissed the Baby!” to him. While reading, the text prompted me to tickle him, sing to him, and then kiss him. He loved it. He smiled, squealed, wriggled his feet, the whole nine yards.

“Now we’re getting somewhere,” I thought. “Let’s see what else he might like.” So I got out the book of games and did about 25 in a row. Toes were wiggled. Hands were clapped. Fingers were bent. Bottoms were bounced on my knee. Babies were lifted overhead. Cheeks were stroked. Noses were kissed. All the while I sang and made faces like a demented clown. It was an all-out aural, visual, and tactile assault.
You can guess how things ended, right? (No, I didn’t drop him. Guess again.)

As I should have known, while playing with all my new toys at once was great for me, a bored thirty-something, it was too much for Simon. Way too much. And thus, after an hour or more of happy playing he laughed at me with slightly too wide eyes and filtered out all this excess stimulation the only way a young baby knows how: by wailing uncontrollably.

Poor guy. I had to then pull out nearly every trick from his fourth trimester days to bring him back down. I swaddled him, gave him a pacifier, pulled down the shade in his room, turned on the white noise, glided with him, shushed him, sang softly to him, and stroked his forehead and brows. It took 20 minutes to settle him into sleep.

Next time I will try hard to remember that while new books and games can be fun, it’s better to space them out a bit. You really can have too much of a good thing.

When I last posted about Simon’s favorite things, he was young enough that most of them had to do with getting him to stop crying or easing his reflux.

Now that my little buddy is 20 weeks old, he’s got new favorites that are more about fun. Below is a list of some things that bring genuine pleasure–not simply calm or pain relief–to our lives. Some help Simon doze off, some provide good quiet alert time, others make him laugh out loud, and nearly all add to each day.

Dirty Duck: Dirty duck is a soft blanket toy given to me when I was 19 weeks along by my friend Elizabeth, who was then 22 weeks along herself. When she first gave it to me, I didn’t get it. It was like a large soft washcloth with a duck’s head attached to it. What do I do with this? Now I get it. Simon is at a phase where he loves to hold things and he loves to put things in his mouth. Instead of yanking on urp clothes, his bibs, or my hair or glasses, he now holds onto dirty duck. Why “dirty”? Because it’s been in and out of his mouth nearly non-stop and I’m not sure how to wash it. Yuck.

Patty Cake: You can “pat it and roll it and mark it with a ‘B’,” which Simon likes, or you can “roll it up, and roll it up, and put it in the pan,” which makes him laugh out loud almost every time. The key to putting it in the pan is to make your voice so high it’s a squeak, smile like a lunatic, and wiggle his hands into his belly. Sometimes now when Simon starts to look fussy, I’ll skip straight to pan-putting, and he’ll perk right up. And I laugh almost as much as Simon does when Matt accesses his rock-star falsetto to put it in the pan himself.

Crunches: Once a day at least, I prop Simon up in bed, sit in front of him, and pull him up to sitting by his arms to work on neck muscles and upper body strength. Each time he pulls up with this head level with his back, I cheer him. This has now become a game that Matt calls “crunches”. Despite all this exercise, we have seen no sign of a baby six-pack developing.

Crib-side Aquarium: A present from Aunt Bobbie, the crib-side aquarium sat unused until two weeks ago, when the Snuggle Nest came out of his crib. Not only does Simon like watching the bubbles, lights, and fish, but he will also fall asleep while looking at it. This is a huge milestone for us, as Matt has now put Simon down for the night while he was still awake almost every day for two straight weeks. If this pattern holds, we’ll have a lazy route to sleep conditioning.

All My Loving: “I’ll pretend that I’m kissing, the lips I am missing…”. I bought the Smithereens’ Beatles tribute a while back (after hearing about it on NPR of course), a dutiful, song-for-song cover of “Meet the Beatles.” Simon likes the whole thing, but track six, “All My Loving”, seems to be the great favorite so far. I’m not sure if it’s the song he likes or the fact that I know all the words and can hit all the notes. I’ll pretend it’s the former. Whatever the case, this track is the one we are most likely to dance to.

Redheads: That Simon is all smiles for his Auntie Jen came as no surprise to me. She sees him often and always has a high-pitched hello and big smile for him. But then on Valentine’s day he immediately fell for Dan’s frend Jessica, who also has red hair. As I have a thing for red-heads myself, it’s entirely possible I’ve passed this on. I’ll be on the lookout for signs that he’s taking a shine to Tristan (who has, incidentally, taken a shine to Simon), and I can’t wait for him to meet his Auntie Cindy and pen-pal Fiona.

The Busy Elephant: This pachyderm is a large blue aesthetic horror. It’s got one ear that crinkles, another with a bell in it, a phone dial in one leg, etc. It’s every baby toy imaginable packed into one stuffed package. Simon hasn’t noticed most of its features, but he’s all over a belled ball that sits on the tip of its trunk and loves to swat at it. To which we say–after Simon took several swings at his old man–better the busy elephant than us!

Books: I had read that a bedtime ritual was a good way to help babies sort out day from night and be ready for sleep. The suggestion was to give baby a bath, have some quiet time, and then read a bedtime story. HA! Now that Simon can focus, there is nothing quiet about story time. He looks at pictures, listens to us, and then gets totally wriggly and hyper, not unlike the little mouse in the story “The Very Noisy Night”. (This hilarious story is about a little mouse who wants to crawl into bed with a big mouse. But big mouse is having none of that because, in his own words, “You are wriggly and your paws are always cold.”)

The Changing Pad: There’s no question about it. Simon has some of his happiest moments on the changing pad. He smiles the minute you put him down, and by the time he’s down to just a diaper he is usually kicking and laughing like mad. It’s hilarious–but does make for some rather difficult changes.

Chinaberry: A favorite of mine: When I was pregnant, my boss Karen asked me several times what I needed and where I was registered. I demured. I had almost all I needed. If you must shop for me, I told her, surprise me.

Boy did I score. I not only got three delightful books and an organic cotton stuffed animal that I adore, but I was also introduced to the company whence they came, Chinaberry. Chinaberry features children’s books sorted by level, books on parenting, some adult good reads, and a selection of gifts and educational toys. All are selected by its owner and staff as best in breed, and all focus on non-sexist, non-violent stories that engage the imagination and foster intellectual development, gentleness, and nurturing. Once I saw their catalog I was hooked. I’ve now got one book on parenting (Parenting Well in a Media Age), two books for Simon (I Kissed the Baby! and This Little Piggy), and a washable outdoor blanket on the way. If you shop for kids, I highly recommend this outfit.

Well, you can’t look yet because we don’t have a picture. But about ten minutes ago Simon rolled over for the first time. Matt was giving him tummy time on the bed, which Simon was doing pretty well at given that we don’t do it as often or for as long as we should. He raised himself up on his arms with no help from us or from the mini bobby pillow about three times that I saw.

Then he began to look tired of the whole thing and was in a pre-fussy state. What I meant to say to Matt was “Go ahead and pick him up so we can end tummy time on a positive note.” I was interrupted, however, as Simon took matters into his own hands–and arms, legs, belly and torso–and flipped over on his own with seemingly little effort. It was a beautiful front to back roll. I give it a 9.9 and am over the moon that this first happened when Matt and I were both watching him. (I’m also delighted that this happened despite Thursday night’s blunt force trauma to the head. Whew!)

Simon knew he did something special, too, as we cheered him on afterwards and he smiled widely. So that’s it. The end of the era of knowing Simon will stay exactly where we put him.