The Gift of Warmth

Our son is so generous. On the eve of his own birthday party, he decided to give his mommy a special present to warm her heart and saturate her bra and drip down on her socks:



-- Post From My iPhone

Year in Review: January 2008 (The Birth)

If it were a year prior to the moment I am writing this, I would have been down at Prentice Hospital waiting for the induction meds to kick in. Hard to believe. Actually, 'hard" is a good word for January, really. It was hard times -- and of course, a few good times, too. (Warning: This is a long post... another one of those for the-good-of-the-archive more than the-good-of-the-reading.)

New Year's Eve was spent like a beached whale on the couch, as our stellar handyman, Esteban, put up some extra storage in our back hallway. I was really starting to get into nesting mode in anticipation of Oliver's due date of January 31.

I was done with what was a crazy December working on the Manage My Home site for Sears, so I could finally focus on our home -- a little ironic, I guess. Eric and I had spent a good amount of the holidays on trips to Ikea and Container Store and cleaning out closets and all that good stuff. I was also getting very excited for the shower that was set for January 6. (See awesome invitation at above!) My sisters were coming in from CA and my dear friend Emily was hosting at her place.

Friday, January 4 was to be my last day at work, but I was still doing this and that on Thursday and I also had a doctor appointment that day. Even though I had had some problems with blood pressure and been in the hospital once already for monitoring, I expected the appointment to be relatively routine. Turns out, the BP was high again so it was back to the hospital for an observation period. My sisters came into town on Friday to find me laid up at Prentice, where the views, the flatscreen TV, and Room Service were pretty novel, really. The doctors sent me home on Saturday on bedrest with orders to come back into the office for a check on Monday. That night we ate Thai Food (nobody had warned me that the salt was bad for my blood pressure), Sunday I violated doctor's orders and went to the shower. I took it easy over there, though. It was so great to see everyone and get so many awesome gifts. And most definitely a highlight: Emily's Bread Pudding! (which she made with croissants because she could find brioche or challah, so you can imagine how delish it was).

Monday, January 7, Eric and I went in to see Dr. McNair who didn't like what my pressure was doing, who made me pee in a cup even though I had to try like 5 separate times, and who said I wasn't dialated, but "That baby is cooked. Go across the street." So back to Prentice we went to get induced. Sent Eric home for the bag (which we hadn't even packed yet) and let the fun begin. I'll leave out the gory details here (and it was a bit gory to tell you the truth)... just know that Oliver was born some 27 hours later on January 8 at 5:something PM. Hooray! He was 7 lbs, 10 oz, but looked like a 20-pounder in the photo below, eh? Hooray! And Eric proclaimed him Oliver James (with some doubt and hesitation that maybe he was an Owen). Hooray! It was so exciting to have this little bundle. I hardly slept because I just couldn't stop staring at him in wonder and awe. Hooray!

Hooray, EXCEPT! After two days in the hospital, they sent us home, but mommy was not well. I couldn't breathe overnight and I was still very swolen. My BP was still high, skyrocketed in fact and I had to go back into the hospital through the ER (not fun). Long story short, I spent the next five days in the hospital missing Oliver and being really scared about my health and well-being. Oliver was well taken care of by his grandmas, though -- such a blessing.

The rest of January is a bit of a blur. The day after I got home, January 16, was Oliver's bris (wish I had some good pictures of that day, but I really don't -- everything is kinda blurry because of the no-flash rule). Then a week with mom here helping me, still not feeling quite myself but already so in love with that little baby. Then mom gone and Eric back at work. The weather was an absolute nightmare and we really didn't leave the house but for an occasional doctor appointment, so it was pretty aweful. Oh, that reminds me... when Oliver first came home, before I was readmitted, we took him to this barrio pediatrician office in Uptown. Let's just say that was a BAD IDEA! But we have a great pediatrician now, thank goodness.

And that was January 2008. And January 2008 was hard. And hard is character-building and perspective-giving and all worth it in the case of Oliver James Weinstein:

Your Baby's First Year of Life - Week 52

The second you find out you're pregnant you sign up for these weekly updates from online magazines and mommy sites so you can monitor all those tiny developments like getting eyelashes and having identifiable private parts, all the while devouring your What to Expect book that lives on your nightstand.

Then, eventually, you have the baby and you move on to the second volume of What to Expect, which keeps your attention for maybe the first 6 weeks when you discard the seemingly common-sense advice. But, the emails, they keep coming. Who has time to unsubscribe with a 6-week-old to take care of? Mostly you skim them now, not following the links from the teasers to the more in-depth content. Then one day you get the one called "Your Baby's First Year of Life - Week 52." Week 52? What? How can that be?

It's true, though, this week is Oliver's 52nd week. The little diablo will be uno en January 8. (Sorry for the Spanglish, I read The Brief Wondrous Life of Oscar Wao on vacation where the two languages were commonly interchanged.)

We aren't going to do too much for his big day. Just a family dinner on the Thursday, then a pizza with family and a few friends on Sunday. Oliver is hoping to take his Stroller Strides girlfriends out to lunch next week, too, but all-in-all it should be a quiet one. (Well, I guess three events isn't exactly "quiet" but in the whole Elmo-and-Dora scheme of things, pizza is quiet.)

And quiet is good.

We just got back from a very active vacation -- a 10-night Eastern Carribean Cruise! It was great to spend a lot of individual and extended family time (but more on all of our adventures at sea later when I get the hundreds of Oliver photos downloaded from our camera).

Also on the docket for blog later (blater?) is some sort of Year in Review effort. I've been thinking that I should try to do a little catch-up on the blog since I didn't start until September and he had 8-9 months of life prior that went entirely without commentary. The audacity!

So, visit often, comment more, and have a happy new year!

I Saw The Sign...

... and it opened up my eyes... to the undeniable confirmation of the fact that Oliver is paying attention, soaking it up, learning all the time.

Since he was about six months, we've been using baby sign language with him despite zero response or seeming interest. I have felt pretty silly simulating milking a cow, drawing my hands outward from my nose like whiskers of a cat, and tapping my fingertips together while I said the corresponding "milk," "kitty," "more". But low and behold, he got it.

Last week it was questionable if he was really using the signs as intended or if it was a coincidence. The sign for milk kinda looks like the same as the "I'm fascinated with my hand and the way it can move" gesture he had done all along while staring at his moving fingers. And the sign for finished kinda looks like "I'm throwing my hands in the air because I can and it's fun."

But this week, he's really been using the signs in context. I'd say "Milk" is the big winner with "Finished" as a close second. "More" is usually the spoken "eeehhhhhheeee, eh, eh, eh" whine/grunt instead of the more-civilized fingertip tapping. And I haven't seen those kitty whiskers surface (but I had kinda dropped that one anyway to focus on the more action-oriented ones). It really is pretty amazing, though, to see him milk the cow around bottletime and to synchronize the all-finished sign with his spitting out of whatever bite he has in his mouth.

I'm not a fanatic by any means. I mean, I don't see the importance of tracing an elephant's trunk in the air to identify the African mammal. And can't see enough distinction between the signs for cold and afraid to really bother, but now that I've seen the power of this little sponge and the help that the signs can provide, I'm sorry that we didn't tackle more sooner.

I'm going to try to introduce "diaper" and "eat" soon so he can get those into his vocabulary, too. And since we eat a lot of bananas around here, that one seems apropo. The signs for mom and dad and grandma and grandpa would be sweet, but again they are all so similar (and a little weird -- tapping thumb to forehead is dad). I'm sure there are others that would be useful (especially now that I've taken some time to poke around on the web for more examples), but I have full faith that the boy will be speaking complete sentences by the spring (right?), so we'll just wait it out.

I don't have any good pictures of him signing, but again, poking around on the Internet, I found one of a boy signing "book," which (again, low and behold) is exactly what Oliver was doing last night when it was time for a book after his bottle. I kept going, "Book? Do you want to read a book?" Each time doing the sign for book that I know, which is putting the palms of your hands together, then opening them up with the pinky sides still touching. Oliver just kept doing this cute kinda gesture that we thought was indecisiveness, like "I don't know if I want to read a book." But, duh, this wrist rotation with the hands held together is probably a little advanced for the boy, so what you see is the babies turning their hands inside out and up, but away from each other. Wow. The kid is brilliant -- or maybe he was just signing "where?" Hmmm.

Grey Ice - Part Two

I went back to the scene of the mishap over lunch with my trusted iphone in hand and was able to capture my tragic mis-steps. Classic.


-- Post From My iPhone

Milestone: Bipedalism

Well, almost anyway. I'm guessing he'll be walking on his own in the next couple weeks -- even before his first birthday. What a superstar!

Eric has this theory that every time we travel or put Oliver in totally new situations, he changes dramatically -- "a new baby" as Eric puts it, so likely by the time we come back from our cruise in January he will probably also be skipping and doing the do-se-do. Actually, I do give the theory some credence, so I'm sure I'll have lots to post when we get back.

I've been a bit remiss with the posting, especially with the milestones:

I mean, the kid is practically off jarred food. He's a good eater and even likes his vegetables. Like most of us, though, he leans towards the carbs: crackers (of the graham or club variety), mac 'n' cheese, cheerios, cheezy-poofs, egg noodles, etc.

He is in size 18 months jammies. Despite his genetic origins, the kid is kinda tall and all of the feet in his 12-monthers have holes in the big toe area. OK, I'll admit, this might be partially due to the claw-like nature of his untrimmed toenails. You try taking the clippers to a bucking kangaroo.

And, get this: The kid appears to be fluent in Vietnamese: "Nngng Gngung". Since I am not, in fact, fluent in Vietnamese (and neither are you for that matter) this claim cannot be confirmed or denied.

I'm sure there are loads of other things I'm forgetting to chronicle here, but I'm doing the best I can, dammit.

Oh, in other news, Oliver is starting daycare in January when we get back from the cruise.

Grey Ice

Why didn't I bring my phone with me on my bagel run so I could have snapped a photo?

Anyway... so I'm doing my morning bagel run (no, I cannot be deterred, even by several inches of snow and ice, plus I’m recovering from the stomach flu so I need my carbs, right?). And the alley that I usually walk down beside the ‘L’ tracks is pretty ice-packed, so I opt for walking directly under the tracks, which is typically ankle-twisting gravel, but in this case it seemed like traction-safe terrain with unblemished snow that I was enjoying walking on – tromping on, to be exact. Gotta get bagel.

Then I get to a part that looks like ice-covered asphalt – that grey color when black is made opaque by the ice. So I tread a little lighter, stepping gingerly with my right foot and “crack! Splash!” I’m ankle-deep in a pond. OMG! So again, I’m not deterred and instead of trying to back out, I plow forward four more steps through this pond of ice and slush. OMG! OMG! I announced with every step. And of course there were witnesses: “Don’t worry, I did it just last week,” one woman told me. Nice of her to say, since I sincerely doubt it.

Luckily, I was wearing my winter boots with jeans still tucked in them from the ice/snow removing session with my car on the street this morning. I’m not sure the boots are intended to be waterproof to full submersion, but so far, they are holding up OK. Just to be safe and with dry socks in mind, I think I’ll take them off and settle into work for the day.

I’m still grinning about what an idiot I am. On the way back, I especially enjoyed seeing my four-holed patch of ice. If only I’d brought my phone with me, I could have snapped a photo.

Today's Commute

I'm blogging from the train that I very nearly missed. Winded and relieved to have just made it, I sit down next to this guy:




-- Post From My iPhone

The Boy Loves A Cat... The Boy Is A Cat?

Oliver seriously loves our cats -- one more than the other, but we won't name names. His typical reaction to spotting a cat is a huge smile and an "eeeeee" squeal. He loves to plow his head into their tummies, but first he has to catch them (see strip one below).

The other day, though, I was a little concerned because not only does he love cats, he seems to be behaving much like a cat, as well. He's totally into batting a ball or a block out away from him, chasing it down and batting it again (see strip two). This behavior is quite amusing.

He's On The Move...and More

No, I'm not pregnant again (thank goodness). The photo is to help illustrate my constant disbelief that this little tiny piece-of-rice-sized thang that grew in me for 9 months is now doing so much more than I ever expected. He's turning more and more into a boy everyday. It's really quite amazing. Downside is that all this new development means that he's too excited about stuff to sleep as much as he should, but I'm hoping that too shall pass.

It really is so cool that he is:

• crawling! (especially chasing the kitties all over the house)
• eating cherios (1 of every 5 even fed to himself by himself)
• babbling (more dada than mama, an occassional uh-oh, and eeeeeee for kitty)
• looking more and more like his daddy everyday
• playing with the TV remote control and staring expectantly at the screen
• standing up holding on to the couch, crib rail, or cool singing block that our friends Sharon and Milos got him.
• looking at the appropriate person or thing when prompted with "Where's X?"
• waiving bye-bye (not consistently, but enough to bring a crowd in a restaurant lobby into a unified "awwwww...")
• identifying "nose" on his own and others' faces
• patting pictures of kitties in animal books before or exclusive of others
• sticking his tongue out constantly, making his mommy think he might actually get teeth someday
• focusing in and pointing at the most miniscule piece of dust, dirt, or litter (almost always accompanied by an extended groan)
• eating yogurt and cream cheese
• weighing almost 21 pounds
• getting a real kick out of watching other kids play
• enjoying library time with Nani (Pushpa) - Man, I just noticed that the Picassa red-eye corrector did a number on Eric and Pushpa's eyes. They generally do not look that creepy.
• laughing uncontrollably when tickled at the tops of his thighs
• getting whispy little duck curls on the back of his head

And those are just the good things. I'll leave the bad for another post, I suppose.