Kid Amnesiac

Tonight Simon laughed for the first time… I think.

I was over at Mom’s while Matt’s band practiced, and sometime between dinner and dessert mom leaned over his Papasan seat (he was our centerpiece at the table) and made a funny face at him. Simon went wild. His eyes opened wide, and his dimples deepened. Then he opened his mouth and make a sort of yelling noise. Not quite a “ha!”, but close.

So this might just be the laugh I’ve been waiting for. Whatever it was, it was certainly delightful. In fact, Simon himself has been delightful for six straight days. We’re getting all kinds of smiles from him, he’s falling asleep faster and staying asleep longer, and he’s babbling like mad. Favorite “words” are “M-be” and “Uga”. Last night he put together a crazy string of vowels and vowel-consonant combinations that imitated speech to hilarious effect.

For the record, if we do end up with an early talker it will not be because of the Goldstein genes. While most of us can absolutely talk you to death, we were all late getting started. So late that my mom worried my brother Steve might be slightly mentally challenged. Nope, it’s Simon’s introverted dad who got an early start gabbing. If Simon ends up with my affinity for talking coupled with Matt’s ability, we will one day have the most exhausting two-year-old ever. But I’m getting ahead of myself with that one.

Simon’s other new habits, documented here in the blog and in the photo gallery, include enjoying morning naps in our bed and being propped up in chairs to better see the world around him. All in all, as his fourth trimester comes to a close, Simon has become more engaged with the world around him.

This trend is so much fun that even though Simon turns three months tomorrow, I’m not feeling misty about lost time. I’m just looking forward to the developments ahead.

I have a troubled history with television. I’m perfectly happy to go without owning a TV (as I did for most of my college years), but once I have access, addictive viewing usually isn’t far behind.

Some people with TVs can be content to watch a few good shows, some sports, and a little PBS. I am not one of those people. Sure, I may discuss The Office or The News Hour with Jim Lehrer, but odds are I’m also watching Blind Date and America’s Next Top Model as well. Worse, I may be watching reruns of Blind Date or America’s Next Top Model.

Now I see that my addictive TV viewing may have a genetic component. Matt and I haven’t had access to broadcast, satellite, or cable TV since we moved to Louisville, so Simon slept through a few DVDs early on but otherwise hasn’t seen TV. Until last night.

Last night, we were over at the Whitworths’ and Matt had Simon in the living room with himself and Jim while Evie and I had tea on the glassed in porch. The TV was on, and when I went to check on Simon the kid was mesmerized by a University of Kentucky basketball game. (Addictive basketball watching in general would also come from me; addictive Kentucky basketball watching would come from Jim.) Matt reports that earlier in the evening Simon was equally enraptured by portions of Dances with Wolves. So there it is: My not quite three month old baby is already in the thrall of TV.

Thank goodness his access is so limited. And thank goodness the Whitworths don’t watch Blind Date!

On an unrelated note, Simon has also spent the past two weeks or so with his hands in his mouth all the time. We know this is a typical developmental milestone, but we would like to note that it is also a disgusting developmental milestone.

Most Sundays Matt’s band practices from 5-8 p.m. in our basement. Since Simon came along, that leaves me looking for a place to grab dinner and hang out for the evening, as the downstairs is too loud for Simon when the band is going strong.

So the routine is that I head over to my mom’s, and she cooks dinner for me. It works out well: I get to eat a well rounded meal, and Simon gets to preserve his hearing. And in theory, it means my mom gets good Simon and Bubbie time on a regular basis. In theory.

The first few weeks all went according to plan. I’d arrive, nurse Simon, put him in his Baby Papasan or swing, eat dinner, get him down for a nap, then nurse him again and head home. One of those early weeks Simon flashed his first truly social smile right at my mom–a great big gummy smile for his Bubbie. It was awesome.

Then, a few weeks later, I came over and Simon fussed the whole time. No big deal, I thought. It was bound to happen at some point. Except, then Mom came over to our house a few days later, and Simon was super crabby the whole time. And then Matt and I went over to Mom’s house for dinner together, and Simon cried a ton and never settled down for a good nap.

Worse yet, everything Mom did to make him feel better just seemed to tick him off more.  Mom would adjust his clothing, he’d scream. She’d go to put his pacifier back in his mouth, he’d scream. She’d wipe spit off of his face, he’d scream. She’d look at him cock-eyed, he’d scream. You get the idea.

Mom took this all in stride, but it was beginning to look personal! In fact, when Mom babysat Simon on Saturday, she even made a joke about how he could dislike her all he wanted, she was still going to love him (for now). And wouldn’t you know it, he got crabby on her while we were off having dinner.

So tonight as I packed up the Papasan and diaper bag to head over to Mom’s, I was more than a little worried. Would he pitch a screaming fit again? I mean, I can’t keep telling her about Simon’s napping for Grandma, smiling for Grandma, and cooing for Grandma if he’s ticked off every time Bubbie is within 50 feet. That’s just not right.

Well thank goodness, tonight he rallied. He napped long enough for me to eat. He nursed well twice. He had a good hour of awake time during which my Aunt Linda delighted him with funny faces and he smiled and cooed at her and my mom. Mom held him, and he smiled and was content. It was a very good visit. The curse was lifted. Huzzah!

Except… Earlier this afternoon, my mother-in-law came over, tried to give Simon a bottle, and he flipped out on her. My rational mind knows that the problem was that we stupidly went about three weeks without offering Simon a bottle and now must pump and bottle feed once a day to get him reacclimated. My irrational mind, however, is a mite worried that my son is simply incapable of being in a good mood for both grandmothers at the same time.

I’ll be 37 in about 2 1/2 hours, and for the first time in a long while I feel truly different on a birthday. The last time this happened was when I hit 30. It doesn’t seem that long ago, and yet I’m now closer to 40 than that earlier benchmark.

When I was 30 I was in San Francisco and was freaked about not yet having what I considered a “real” job since leaving my PhD program. Flash forward seven years and I have had two such “real” jobs and yet still do not know exactly what I will be when I grow up. And that’s OK. Because while I was quite happy at 30 and was in the full throws of my romance with San Francisco, I am quite happy now at 37 and am in the full throws of my romance with being back home.

And then there is Simon, who, even on a crabby day like yesterday, brings me great joy. Joy that is hard to put a finger on, as on the surface he’s much more work than fun.

By the time I feed him eight times a day, burp him, change him, coddle him, put him down to sleep, and clean up after him, it’s easy to watch an entire day go by with precious little to show for it besides laundry and garbage. Where’s the joy in that?

I think the answer lies in the daily routines and coziness of our life now. I’m a bit of a worrier to say the least. I’ve spent much of the past 37 years worrying about everything from my career to global warming. Since Simon came along, I have less time for this (unless I’m worrying about him, of course) and more opportunities to appreciate the everyday joys in life.

Like baby clothing and books. Every time I change Simon, I have a chance to giggle at the bodysuits with cows, chicks and frogs on them [and blue puppies -mgw.]. Every time I read to him I get to enjoy beautifully illustrated books about bears having tea parties and birds searching for their mommies. The accoutrements of babyhood reek of gentleness.

It’s also great fun watching a new little human discover some of the pleasures I’ve been enjoying for years. Simon now loves his bath, he’s starting to pay attention to the sound of wind and feel of fresh air when we go for walks, and I just know that one day soon he will look over and discover the cats.

And of course there are the eight hours a day I spend holding Simon during and after his feedings. Nursing Simon can be a heady experience, especially in the morning when the sun is coming up and we have the whole day ahead of us. He has a way of molding into me when I hold him that feels amazing. More than once I’ve let my arm or hand go completely numb and tingly before giving in and letting go of Simon. I have to wonder: Who’s comforting whom here?

So here I am. Staring down a birthday and enjoying a time of quiet contentment. A contentment that is, in fact, a fabulous birthday present to myself.