Nothing sweeter than a sleeping baby.
Except maybe little baby toes.
So sweet and delicious. All of him.
Friday, July 29, 2011
Monday, July 25, 2011
Teeth, Baby
The very next day after Henry lost his first tooth, Silas' first baby tooth came in. And it's in the same location as the one Henry lost.
My babies are growing up.
My babies are growing up.
Sunday, July 24, 2011
Still Fighting It
Henry lost his first tooth today. We realized it was loose about a month ago (when the dental hygienist pointed it out) but it was last week that Henry started wiggling it in earnest. He was standing in the neighbor girl's driveway, waiting for her to come and play, when it finally came out.
Henry says that he doesn't want to leave it for the tooth fairy, who he doesn't believe in anyway. He wants to keep it forever.
That's my boy. Holding on to what he can while things change all around him.
Last night as I lay down with Henry at bedtime he asked, "Mom, will you be sad when I'm grown up?" Before I could think of an appropriate answer (because YES! I will be sad), he burst into tears and told me that he doesn't want to grow up, not ever. He said, "There's no fun when you're grown up."
Good God, what have we been modeling for Henry? Of course there's fun. In fact, I like being an adult a helluva lot more than I liked being a kid. But I can't tell him that, either.
The other day I was remembering when Henry's first tooth came in -- possibly the tooth that I can now hold in my hand. He was up all night, fussing and unhappy, and I found the strength to comfort him even in my exhaustion. The next morning I saw that a tooth had popped through and I was grateful that I'd been so patient with him.
Now that tooth is gone, and my baby is growing up.
Edited to add:
The night after Henry's tooth came out he had one of his thrashing and crying episodes in the middle of the night. He was whimpering and finally he said that he wanted me to come lie next to him and he would tell me what was wrong.
With his head resting on my arm, he said, "Do you ever feel like you're not really you?"
The next morning I came across a video for a song Ben Folds wrote for his son, titled "Still Fighting It":
He sings:
Everybody knows
It hurts to grow up
And everybody does
It's so weird to be back here
Let me tell you what
The years go on and
We're still fighting it, we're still fighting it
And you're so much like me
I'm sorry
Oh, Henry. I am sorry. But also so, so proud.
Henry says that he doesn't want to leave it for the tooth fairy, who he doesn't believe in anyway. He wants to keep it forever.
That's my boy. Holding on to what he can while things change all around him.
Last night as I lay down with Henry at bedtime he asked, "Mom, will you be sad when I'm grown up?" Before I could think of an appropriate answer (because YES! I will be sad), he burst into tears and told me that he doesn't want to grow up, not ever. He said, "There's no fun when you're grown up."
Good God, what have we been modeling for Henry? Of course there's fun. In fact, I like being an adult a helluva lot more than I liked being a kid. But I can't tell him that, either.
The other day I was remembering when Henry's first tooth came in -- possibly the tooth that I can now hold in my hand. He was up all night, fussing and unhappy, and I found the strength to comfort him even in my exhaustion. The next morning I saw that a tooth had popped through and I was grateful that I'd been so patient with him.
Now that tooth is gone, and my baby is growing up.
Edited to add:
The night after Henry's tooth came out he had one of his thrashing and crying episodes in the middle of the night. He was whimpering and finally he said that he wanted me to come lie next to him and he would tell me what was wrong.
With his head resting on my arm, he said, "Do you ever feel like you're not really you?"
The next morning I came across a video for a song Ben Folds wrote for his son, titled "Still Fighting It":
He sings:
Everybody knows
It hurts to grow up
And everybody does
It's so weird to be back here
Let me tell you what
The years go on and
We're still fighting it, we're still fighting it
And you're so much like me
I'm sorry
Oh, Henry. I am sorry. But also so, so proud.
Saturday, July 16, 2011
What's in a Name?
At some point in the past few months Henry started calling me by my first name, Kay.
Like, all.the.time.
For a while I overlooked it, figuring it was just a phase that would quickly pass. But weeks went by where I heard "Kay, I'm hungry," "Let's go to the park, Kay!" and "Kay, read me a book." When I would tell him I wanted him to call me Mommy or Mom and he explained that he called me Kay because Kay was my name.
I tried to figure out why it bothered me so much, and what it finally came down to was that for years and years I cared for children who were not mine, as a babysitter, a stepmom and a nanny.
I enjoyed caring for them, but it was always clear that I was merely a substitute for the real deal, their mother. I longed to be a mom to my own child and finally, I got my wish. When, as a baby, Henry first displayed his preference for me, and then eventually said "mama" -- well, there are no words to describe how I felt.
No wonder it was painful to hear Henry call me by my first name.
Now, I know I'm still Henry's mom, and still just as important to him, no matter what he calls me. And I realize that his having to share Silas with me could account for the change and that maybe -- probably -- I should have let it go.
But finally, one day when I was yelling at him about something unrelated, I added, "And from now on you're going to call me Mom or Mommy! No more calling me Kay!" Surprisingly, he agreed. He still slips up sometimes and calls me by my first name, but he willingly changes it when corrected.
It's good to be the mom again.
Like, all.the.time.
For a while I overlooked it, figuring it was just a phase that would quickly pass. But weeks went by where I heard "Kay, I'm hungry," "Let's go to the park, Kay!" and "Kay, read me a book." When I would tell him I wanted him to call me Mommy or Mom and he explained that he called me Kay because Kay was my name.
I tried to figure out why it bothered me so much, and what it finally came down to was that for years and years I cared for children who were not mine, as a babysitter, a stepmom and a nanny.
I enjoyed caring for them, but it was always clear that I was merely a substitute for the real deal, their mother. I longed to be a mom to my own child and finally, I got my wish. When, as a baby, Henry first displayed his preference for me, and then eventually said "mama" -- well, there are no words to describe how I felt.
No wonder it was painful to hear Henry call me by my first name.
Now, I know I'm still Henry's mom, and still just as important to him, no matter what he calls me. And I realize that his having to share Silas with me could account for the change and that maybe -- probably -- I should have let it go.
But finally, one day when I was yelling at him about something unrelated, I added, "And from now on you're going to call me Mom or Mommy! No more calling me Kay!" Surprisingly, he agreed. He still slips up sometimes and calls me by my first name, but he willingly changes it when corrected.
It's good to be the mom again.
Thursday, July 7, 2011
Funny Baby
Silas, at 7.5 months old, laughing:
Henry, at 7.5 months old, laughing:
I hadn't even realized they were the same age until I uploaded the video of Silas onto YouTube and saw the one of Henry. A friend on Facebook said that I changed my comedy routine. What can I say? Different kid, different schtick.
Henry, at 7.5 months old, laughing:
I hadn't even realized they were the same age until I uploaded the video of Silas onto YouTube and saw the one of Henry. A friend on Facebook said that I changed my comedy routine. What can I say? Different kid, different schtick.
Friday, July 1, 2011
Henry Quotes (June 2011 Edition)
As I sang Silas to sleep last night with the song I adapted from "Bye Bye Birdie" (We love you Silas/Oh yes we do/We love you Silas/And we'll be true) my heart warmed as Henry sang along. Alas, he was singing, "We love you Silas/Oh yes we do/We love you Silas/And we'll smush you."
ME: Henry, could you please put your bowl on the kitchen counter?
HENRY: I thought you'd never ask.
HENRY: Do you know my least favorite part of my dance in the Spring Sing? [shows me] That was stupid. If the dance were a piece of paper, I'd cut that part out and throw it in the garbage.
HENRY (while playing Angry Birds): Boy, those birds must *really* hate those pigs if they're willing to destroy themselves to kill them.
HENRY (half asleep): Cover me up, please. [pause] Don't just lie there; cover me up!
I think Henry may have outgrown storytime at the library. When Miss Sue asked the kids what they know about kangaroos, he said, "Some species have adapted to live in trees and have lost the ability to jump."
Henry just told me, "Someone has to help me clean up! If Daddy won't do it, then you do. Silas doesn't understand about cleaning up and Venus doesn't have opposable thumbs."
Daddy has been introducing Henry to Jonathan Richman lately. His favorite song so far is "That Summer Feeling," but when he heard "The Tag Game" he said, "I hate tag."
Henry really slayed them at the dentist's office last week, regaling them with his knowledge of deserts and griping about Lily from his class at school. I had to laugh out loud when the hygienist asked him if he'd be going to first grade next fall and he answered, "Yes, but I'm trying to prevent it."
HENRY: Zoe said my birthday is only seven days after hers.
ME: That's not right. Her birthday is soon and yours is in August.
HENRY: I know, but she said that, and I said, "Oh!" because I was trying to go with the flow.
I love that Henry thinks the lyrics to the Death Cab song "You are a Tourist" are "There's a birdie in your heart" (it's really "When there's a burning in your heart.").
Block party today. Henry just ran out of the house, saying, "Goodbye, I have some serious water ballooning to do!"
I'm soooo proud of Henry. The little girl across the street was sad because she missed doing the pinata at the block party, so Henry gave her half of his candy and told her, "Friends are more important than candy."
ME: Henry, could you please put your bowl on the kitchen counter?
HENRY: I thought you'd never ask.
HENRY: Do you know my least favorite part of my dance in the Spring Sing? [shows me] That was stupid. If the dance were a piece of paper, I'd cut that part out and throw it in the garbage.
HENRY (while playing Angry Birds): Boy, those birds must *really* hate those pigs if they're willing to destroy themselves to kill them.
HENRY (half asleep): Cover me up, please. [pause] Don't just lie there; cover me up!
I think Henry may have outgrown storytime at the library. When Miss Sue asked the kids what they know about kangaroos, he said, "Some species have adapted to live in trees and have lost the ability to jump."
Henry just told me, "Someone has to help me clean up! If Daddy won't do it, then you do. Silas doesn't understand about cleaning up and Venus doesn't have opposable thumbs."
Daddy has been introducing Henry to Jonathan Richman lately. His favorite song so far is "That Summer Feeling," but when he heard "The Tag Game" he said, "I hate tag."
Henry really slayed them at the dentist's office last week, regaling them with his knowledge of deserts and griping about Lily from his class at school. I had to laugh out loud when the hygienist asked him if he'd be going to first grade next fall and he answered, "Yes, but I'm trying to prevent it."
HENRY: Zoe said my birthday is only seven days after hers.
ME: That's not right. Her birthday is soon and yours is in August.
HENRY: I know, but she said that, and I said, "Oh!" because I was trying to go with the flow.
I love that Henry thinks the lyrics to the Death Cab song "You are a Tourist" are "There's a birdie in your heart" (it's really "When there's a burning in your heart.").
Block party today. Henry just ran out of the house, saying, "Goodbye, I have some serious water ballooning to do!"
I'm soooo proud of Henry. The little girl across the street was sad because she missed doing the pinata at the block party, so Henry gave her half of his candy and told her, "Friends are more important than candy."
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