one year, in words

Auden, my darling son.

You are a year old today, a length of time that is as meaningful as it is arbitrary.

We like it when things come full circle; we like to point at a map and say, I was here.

And so I was. We were. A year ago I was entreating you to come out, so exhausted of sleeping on my side, and of heartburn, and of the hugeness of you inside me. I promised you lots of kicking room, I ate spicy food, I cried. And then, when you were ready, you came, and you became our son.

I had a dream a long time ago about you, except in that dream your name was Bella and you were also my lover. The telling seems perverse, but I must have known somehow that my love for you would be that fierce, so intimate and raw and consuming.

We are creatures: in the most primal acts we discover our capacity for the divine. In those early days after you were born, I smelled like blood and you smelled like blood and we were irrevocably linked, my body still your home and your body finding equilibrium among the light and the dry air.

Over these months the seed of you has sprouted -- your personality is unmistakable -- and as much as I try to teach you about words and sleeping and what not to touch, it is you teaching me how to unfold, be patient, stay open to new growth.

Sometimes I worry that I am not enjoying you enough, the way you are at this very moment, because every moment is changing. My heart aches and I can't bear to think of you as a toddler, as a teenager, as a grown man with a baby of your own. I told you all of this when you were seven months old, back when that seemed like eons since those huge bleary incomparable days of your newborn-ness.

And so I want to preserve it all, like every parent does, in words and pictures and force of will, the feeling of you being my son. The things I love:

The very boy-shape of your head, the way you point and ask "ah? ah?" and I know what you mean, the way you are thrilled with yourself for learning to blow your whistle, the way you love books now and wait for the tiger pages so you can growl, the way you are too busy to eat in your chair and so take your food on the run like a pint-sized marathoner, the pursed-lip face of concentration you get when you're screwing the cap on and off, on and off, on and off the water bottle, the way you insist on still biting my chin with affection (even though now you have teeth).

Last week you even slept through the night, three nights in a row, all on your own. I really love that.

In this past year I haven't been able to finish a book, or a painting, or most of my sentences half the time. I have felt panicked, delirious, wise, giddy, angry, and damn strong -- often in the same day. I have felt debilitated by the exhaustion, and the weight of being your non-stop everything. I have felt resentful of the marionette strings of domesticity, I have felt constricted by your nap schedule (or lack thereof), I have felt unfairly wrenched out of my former life as a book-finishing, painting-finishing, out-to-dinner going, lazy-Sunday-morning-breakfast-eating, witty-conversation-having, quiet-observing non-parent.

You changed everything.

I traded all those things for the unalloyed pleasure of silky baby skin, staggering-drunk-zombie baby walk, exquisite staccato baby laugh, the inquisitive impatient wiggling goofy gorgeous go-go-go of YOU.

So I celebrate your first year, and my having survived it. Happy Birthday, sweetness.

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i just blinked

A trip to Grand Rapids, a trip to Atlanta, sleep schedule all messed up, computer on the fritz, and egad, a month has gone by...

I have been composing posts in my head only to have them wither into lame Facebook status updates by the time I get a few minutes to myself. But OMG, we totally took the train and saw the grandparents and I had a raging hangover after a night out with some old high school pals, and I got a facial, and then we went to Atlanta to visit Jason's sister and Auden met his cousins and it SNOWED in Georgia and Auden flirted with our neighbor on the plane and he's doing this hilarious thing where he imitates the way I throw my head back and laugh except he just opens his mouth with no laughing, and he's also suddenly copying the way we hold the phone to our ears and what's next, I'll have to stop swearing?

I'll post more pictures soon but for now I'll slap up some videos I managed to take of Auden's emerging Evil Kneivel-ness.

From first tentative steps:



To accomplished tumbling:



To tumbling out of his crib:

[What, no video?]

Um, yeah. No.

Jason was on bedtime-duty while I was out at figure drawing class last night and when I came home he told me he went to check on Auden because he was crying and then he heard a big thunk and realized before he got into the bedroom that THIS KID IS NOT IN HIS CRIB. It's nobody's fault, just, arrggghhh, I thought to myself that morning "Hmmm, he's getting kind of taller and maybe we shouldn't leave the crib gate down anymore...like, I think the instructions say don't leave it down EVER." Don't turn us in to CPS, please.

So.

Now it's March! And in a few short weeks Auden turns 1. Egad.

I'm composing another ode to my quick-growing baby, because holy cats when did a whole YEAR go by? I can't garauntee it will actually coincide with his birthday, but stay tuned.

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things worth noting: with colons

The paradox of the blogging life: when you have time to blog, it means there's not a lot worth noting. When everything goes gangbusters all at once, you don't have any time to write it down.

Gangbusters: first steps, first tooth. In that order. Followed by two nights in a row of 8:00pm to 5:30am sleeping.

And lest I start getting too comfortable with that: another tooth on its way. After all this time, I half-expect them ALL to pop through at once.

Also: we were making some strides with eating oatmeal and fruits other than pears, but now Auden is on a strict cracker-only diet and relegating everything else to the floor.

"Mona Lisa Smile" photo by Grandma Stoub

Oh, baby mine: how do you try my last nerve and charm my very sensibilities in the same blessed minute?

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as promised

Roses are so cliche... how about a tulip for Valentine's Day? And a brooding guy in the corner.

I'm going to post a few more over the weekend, check in later! Tell your friends!

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one way to have tulips in february

Is to make them yourself:



Valentines coming soon to Etsy...

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free to pee, you and me

It's time for a "diaper free" update, don't you think? I've been composing this post in my head for what feels like months, now, and I don't know whether it's heartening or totally discouraging that not much has changed in that time.

So.

When I was first reading about going diaper free, the book I read was full of pictures of cherubic infants, sitting by themselves on their wee pots, so happy to be peeing and pooping in this hygienic manner. The more I read, the more I loved the idea of it -- the babies WANT this! They can tell you so! -- and loved the idea of a truncated diapering commitment. Come to think of it, I loved the idea of a lot of things before Auden was born, like co-sleeping and making all my own baby food. And well, you know, it's all subject to change.

We burst out of the starting gate, eager to see if it really worked; we were mighty vigilant in those early months. We would let Auden hang out on the floor in just a cloth diaper with no cover, and would check on him every few minutes to give him a pee chance. If we took him out, we'd put a cover on him, but I was fairly obsessed with not letting him sit in a wet diaper EVER, so it took up a lot of what little mental energy I had. I was always thinking about it. We would give him pee chances at home, in the grocery store, the bushes, the park, the grass next to the parked car... I mean, we really gave it the ol' college try.

Then we moved, and he learned to crawl, and all was lost.

Okay, not all. But let's just say I've revised my expectations of being totally done with diapers by nine months. Ha! Nine months! Ha ha ha! Where did I get that number?

Instead we've relaxed and decided to work with what we've got. Which is an active baby who would rather play than give any helpful cues. Except for early morning farts -- then I know it's go-time.

I admit I've gotten lazy about the whole thing -- especially now that it's winter and Auden is usually wearing a bazillion layers, which is enough to dissuade me from offering regular pee chances -- but one thing I remember from the book was the emphasis on gentleness, and that goes for the parents as well as the baby. There's no sense in getting stressed out about it. I've talked to other folks who are doing it, and we all agree that you either do the work now, or you do it later, but either way you're going to do the work. I'm hoping that more work on this side of the Terrible Twos can only be advantageous.

So here's what we do:

• For pees, we offer him a chance if we think of it, especially if he's just eaten; offer him a chance if we go to change his diaper and it's still dry; offer him a chance to go in the shower or the sink if he ain't havin' the potty; and let him stand up to pee, like a big boy. (We also let a "no" be a "no" -- there's nothing like trying to force a baby to relax and pee while he's writhing and pulling your hair. So what if he goes the second you get that diaper on; you tried.)
  
• For poops, we hold him against our stomach, clench our muscles, and grunt (warning: if you do this it will also make YOU have to poop. You and your baby will synchronize your poop schedules. It will be weirdly gratifying).
• Yell "hooray" and clap like maniacs whenever we get it right.

On the down side: we used to catch a pee whenever Auden woke up, it was the one sure bet. Now he eats after naps instead of before, so that's off.

On the up side: we've started signing with him, and I think he's catching on. It's hard to say, though, because no matter what we sign, he waves his hand the same way. The same wave as hello and goodbye. Poor kid's going to think everyone has to go potty all the time.

Maybe once it warms up we'll let him run around with no pants and redouble our efforts, but for now I'm happier if I'm not thinking about it like we're training for the Great Diaper Free Marathon of Aught Nine. I don't mind saying, though, that I had to interrupt writing this to get him up from his nap and feed him, several minutes after which I handily caught a pee. Hmph.

Now if you'll excuse me, I'm going to make a huge batch of baby oatmeal and buy a lottery ticket.

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at last

Robin: I have to post these pictures on my blog before Obama day is over.

Jason: Obama day is just starting. We have at least four more years of Obama day.





I feel downright patriotic. Happy Obama Day!

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