Teachable Moments

If there's one thing I learned in the four years I spent in college working on my teaching degree, it's that there are "teachable moments" everywhere. A good teacher can take almost any situation and help a child learn something new. It can happen anywhere and can be something big or small. If you think about it, most of the valuable lessons you learned as a child probably weren't consciously taught to you, they were learned in the casual moments of real life.

Now, I know Mason's just a baby, but I don't think you're ever too young to start learning. It's my job as his mom to help him develop morals and values so he can be a good person. No matter what he ends up doing or being when he grows up, if he's a good person who loves other people and himself, I'll know I did a good job as a mama. I really believe that the stuff he learns now will without a doubt sink in and help determine who he becomes as he gets older. Things like how to treat people, how to love... you didn't take notes on that stuff, your parents taught you.. and you probably didn't even realize it.

So today I dressed Mason in his green "Love Planet Earth" shirt:


We sat outside and I told him about the weather, the bunny we saw hopping across the parking lot, and how the trees helped make oxygen. We talked about polution and how we have to be nice to the planet and the animals so they can be around for a long time. He was so happy knowing that even his shirt was helping the environment that I decided to give him a little lesson on the importance of recycling.


Now, does that look like a kid who would litter? I think not.

Holy Sit!

I've been a little scared of Mason being able to sit on his own. I'm worried that he's going to fall backward and hit his head on the coffee table or fall forward and smash his face off of the floor. Okay, I'm terrified. But now, whether I like it or not, it's happening, slowly but surely. He can't actually do it yet, but he definitely wants to. He grabs onto my fingers and pulls himself up, and when he's laying on his back I can see him trying to figure out how to get his little back and stomach muscles to work the right way.

But for the past few days now I've been able to sit him up like this:


And that's the way he stays... for approximately 3 1/2 seconds. Then:


Starting today, there will be no pillows on any of my couches or my bed anymore. If you need them, they'll be permanently surrounding my baby.

I Must Have Blinked

Last night I dreamt that Mason was crawling around the apartment. It was so real that when we woke up this morning I put him down on the floor and half expected him to do it. Well, maybe not really. I'm totally not ready for that and I'm glad I won't have to worry about it for at least another couple of months. All that baby proofing and having to worry about him pulling a dresser down on top of himself or eating laundry detergent or sticking his finger in a light socket doesn't sound like fun to me. Yeah, let's hold off on the crawling for awhile.

He's so close to being able to do all this really cool stuff: rolling both ways, sitting on his own, doing nuclear physics. No luck yet though. Oh well, it's still early in the day.

But seriously, when did Mason start looking so old?! These things happen over night, I swear.

Sometimes he looks so much like a little boy and so little like a baby it's scary. I thought I asked him to slow down on this whole growing up thing.

Don't Blink

Yesterday, my baby turned four months old. I get teary just thinking about it. Could time just go a litle slower, please??

In four months he's changed so much. I remember this tiny little peanut who just wanted to eat and sleep and be held. He felt so light and fragile at just seven pounds and twenty inches long that I was sure I'd break him. He also had way more hair.

Yesterday, the WIC lady weighed Mason in at twenty pounds and four ounces with a diaper on. He's twenty-six inches long. My big four-month-old has a huge personality all his own. He knows what he likes and doesn't like and isn't shy about letting the world know it. He's happy 99% of the time and if you smile at him you can be sure he'll smile back, even if he doesn't know you. His laughter is contagious. He coos and giggles and cracks up when I take turns laughing with him. He doesn't like to waste time sleeping anymore. He still poops a lot.

Somehow, when I wasn't looking, Mason became his own little person.

SONshine

I went out last night for the first time in, hmm, I'd say close to 15 months. It's been forever. I had a few drinks, danced, and, eventually, crawled in the door at 3AM.

I did, however, manage to learn a few things. Number one, I can't drink anymore. I am now a lightweight... and I'm okay with that. Number two, I can't dance anymore. I've been barefoot for the past year and have forgotten how to wear heels. I have blisters on four different toes. And number three: Going to bed at 3AM is way harder now that I have to get up and take care of Mason at 6. And by 'way harder' I mean just about impossible.

It's almost twenty-four hours later and I still don't feel right. Ugh. I'm just not cut out for the whole bar thing anymore. This mama's never drinking again, that's for sure. I was kind of mad at myself for not being able to feed my baby in the morning. I mean, I knew I wouldn't be able to.. the last thing he needs is the milk-cocktail that he surely would have been drinking.. but I just felt really bad about everything afterwards.

But Mason wasn't mad at me. Actually, I think he smiled more than usual in an attempt to cheer me up. And you wanna know what my little guy did for his poor, hung over mama? The baby who will only take naps in his swing for forty-five minutes at a time decided to pick today to cuddle up in bed at noon for a (two hour!) nap with Mommy. I couldn't believe it. He was so cuddly too, all nuzzled in close and smiling in his sleep. He has no idea how happy he makes me.

Early Bird

Before Mason, my ideal waking time would have been somewhere between 11AM and 1PM. I've always loved to sleep in; unfortunately for me, Mason doesn't sleep past 8. Ever. Once, he slept until 9, but that was only after he kicked me out of bed first. Every morning, somewhere between 7 and 8 o'clock, Mason kicks and grunts and giggles until I get up.

Sometimes it's really hard to wake up, but honestly, those early morning hours are now my favorite time of day.

This is why:

That is what I wake up to. He wakes up SO unbelievably happy. I've (almost) lost my desire to sleep in. If I slept 'til noon, I'd totally miss these early morning smiles.

Two Pink Lines and Acceptance

They say you'll always remember the monumental days in your life. The days that really matter, those are the ones that'll stick in your mind until you're 80 and old and grey. But the day I found out I was pregnant with Mason is actually really blurry. I remember that we took a walk to Walmart to get lightbulbs or toilet paper or something for dinner and the pregnancy test that would change my entire life - although I didn't know that at the time. I was only a week or so late and not really too worried... but, just to be safe, I grabbed the test and one of those $3.50 chicken dinner in a box things (or maybe it was Hamburger Helper?) and walked over to Sheetz. To get there the short way, we had to climb this fence by the bank, and then the walk is pretty much uphill, but not steep by any means. I do remember being a little surprised at how out of breath and tired I felt, making that walk, but I brushed it off, blaming it on the cold air and too many cigarettes and being ridiculously out of shape. Maybe we walked home. Maybe we took the bus.

When we got back, George started dinner and I made my way to the bathroom. I peed on the stick and prepared to wait the three agonizingly painful minutes. I was about 99% sure that I'd only see one little pink line, but that 1% was making my palms sweat and my legs shake. After only a minute, I had my answer. My sweating was justifiable. I'd be sweating for he next nine months of my life. I was two pink lines closer to having a baby.

That's where it gets really blurry. I think I came out and found George making dinner in the kitchen. Or maybe he was sitting on the couch. But I looked at him and he knew. And I think I collapsed in the hallway or maybe it was on the floor of the bathroom but I don't think I remember eating any dinner. I don't remember the rest of the night, honestly. Maybe I just went right to bed. Maybe George slipped some Tylenol PM in my Kool-Aid so I'd calm down. I just know that I have no idea what happened in the two weeks after seeing those lines.

The next thing I remember is telling my dad, two weeks later. And that I do remember with the crystal clear, momumental, life-changing-event clarity that everyone talks about. After two weeks of wondering how I was going to tell him, I called him up one afternoon, and said, through tears, "Daddy, I have something to tell you". Of course, he must have prepared himself for the worst. It was the same thing I said when I'd ever wrecked a car or gotten in trouble at school. It was the line I used when I got not one, but two DUIs. It was the shaky, quiet way I speak when I'm really upset or scared or hurt.

And something inside me told me that my dad was going to be disappointed in me. Disappointed that I still hadn't finished school and had gotten in so much trouble and was still working as a waitress. Disappointed that now I was bringing a baby into this mess and wasn't doing anything in the right order. I was completely terrified that I was going to be disappointing my dad, who just wanted the best for me. Looking back, I'm not sure why I felt that way. He'd never been disappointed in me before.

But I got hysterical then, thinking about it. When I get hysterical like that, I sound like I'm trying to talk while someone is dunking my head under water. My breath gets shallow and choppy and I can't talk or breathe. But somehow, I managed to get the words out. My dad told me to calm down, and then said, "Don't scare me like that, I thought it was going to be something really bad." He asked if I was thinking of having an abortion and I said of course not. He said he was proud of me, and I knew he meant it. He always has been; no matter what I do, he's never been disappointed. And I promised myself, right then, that I'd be just as supportive and understanding with my baby as he always was with me.

And I will be. Because regardless of how upset and scared I was at first, the thing that stands out in my mind is the way my dad was going to be there for me no matter what happened. More than anything I want Mason to be able to feel the way I felt that day. Don't get me wrong, I was still terrified and worried and nervous, but I also knew I was completely safe and accepted. And, I hope, so will Mason.

Multi-Tasking

He can't roll from his back completely to his belly yet, but Mason can now go from laying on his back to a position that looks like this.


He's half way, he just can't get that pesky arm out of the way. Seriously, what are you supposed to do with that bottom arm? In an attempt to teach him, I tried to lay on my back and roll onto my belly. It's harder than you'd think. I didn't know what to do with my arm, either.

Anyway, he's still chewing on everything in sight. My grandma told me yesterday that when my dad was a baby, he used to suck his fingers this exact same way... just the middle two.


He chews on his toys too. His new favorite is this turtle.



All this chewing and rolling gets confusing, especially when he tries to do both at once. My little multi-tasker.

Take Two

I just noticed a little drop of blood in Mason's mouth and I now know that his crabby mood yesterday was definitely due to teething. He's been slobbering all over me and chewing on anything he can get his hands on, especially if it's something cold. I can't see the tooth yet, but I know it's there. Babies just don't go getting all crazy for no reason.

Anyway, I'm so glad we waited on his pictures. He took a great nap this morning and was in such a good mood. He had no problem smiling and loved the girls who were taking his pictures. The whole process took about a half an hour but he was so happy and didn't start to get impatient until the very last couple shots. These are pictures I took of the pictures, so they're not the best quality, but his cuteness totally makes up for the blurriness.

Mommy Meltdown

The minute I hit 'publish' on my last post, all hell broke loose. After napping for barely a half an hour, he sneezed himself awake and was completely and utterly miserable. Nothing I did would stop his crying. We rocked, we bounced, we layed down. I sang, I danced, I made funny faces. I tried to feed him, he screamed and turned bright red. This had never happened before, so I just didn't know what to do. There was a problem and I couldn't fix it. I felt like the worst mom ever.

When George came home he found me curled up on the floor in Mason's room, where I'd been for about ten minutes. Mason was in his crib, looking up at his mobile and kicking his legs like nothing had ever been wrong. When the mobile stopped, I'd get up to turn the crank and return to the fetal position on the floor, in tears. The mobile could make him smile when Mommy couldn't. I was officially the worst.

I wanted to cancel his pictures, since he was clearly not in the mood, but George talked me out of it. So we went. Of course, in the car he decided that it was finally a good time to take a nap, and when we got to the mall we had to wake him up. Ugh. That poor photographer... she tried so hard to get him to smile. He just wasn't having it. At least he didn't cry... he just stared at her with the blankest look on his face. There was nothing she could do (nothing any of us could do, really) to get him to crack a smile. He barely blinked at her.

The pictures would have been awful and depressing. My little baby, sitting in a pumpkin patch with his bib overalls and no expression whatsoever on his chubby face. I had no choice but to appologize for wasting her time and rescheduled for Thursday. We'll see how that goes. On the way home, I figured I'd treat myself to a banana split from Dairy Queen for all my troubles. What do I do before I even get to taste it? Drop in on the carpet as soon as I walk in the door.

I'm so glad it's bedtime.

Murphy's Law

We're getting Mason's three month pictures taken tonight at six. I know, we're a couple weeks late, but I'm super excited about it. I have the cutest little outfit picked out and I woke up this morning with one mission: to keep Mason napped and happy until 6 'o clock.

Yesterday, he had three really good naps and was happy and playing all day long. So today should be cake, right?

Wrong.

He fell asleep for a nap around 11:30 and I (stupidly) decided to run the self-cleaning oven. It was all crusty so I figured, hmm, why not? The little note in the instructions said something about removing birds from the area because of the fumes. Birds only. Nothing about babies. So while he napped, I turned it on... it was supposed to run for four and a half hours. After 20 minutes my eyes were watering, even with the fan on and the doors open. I turned it off, but of course, Mason woke up at about 12:15 and wouldn't go back to sleep. The whole apartment stunk.

Okay, nap over. Fast forward to about a half hour ago. After a lot of screaming and fussing, he finally fell asleep. It's amazing what lack of naps can do to babies. And mommies. Mason wasn't the only one in tears.

He just sneezed and woke himself up. Ugh. I have a bad feeling about these pictures.

Mission failed.

Whenever he feels like it.

Mason rolled from his belly to his back four times one day -- it had to have been about a month ago. I wasn't able to catch it on video, and he hadn't done it since. Not that I haven't been trying. But trying to get Mason to roll basically just involves me squealing and cheering and him laughing like crazy, but never rolling. I mean, really, what more can I do? Well, this morning, he was on his belly, he looked at me, and he rolled onto his back like it was nothing. He landed on his back, smiled a big smile at me, and started to chew on his hands, totally unaware of what a monumental moment this was for the both of us.

Of course, I grabbed the video camera, started taping, and flipped him back onto his belly. He screamed. I held him for a minute, gave him a little pep talk, and back on his belly he went. Another scream. I picked him up again. He looked annoyed with me. I put him on his back. Silence. Smiles.

He wasn't rolling to make me happy. He rolled over because he wanted to be on his back, simple as that. Maybe those other times last month were just accidents. Today was the real thing. I'm so excited. I hope it's not another month before he does it again.


But I do know it'll be on his own time.

Satisfaction

About an hour ago, I put Mason to bed. George is out with his friends. And now... here I am.

Mason fell asleep quickly. I knew he was exhausted when we got through his bath without giggles and splashes as usual. He wasn't grumpy, just... tired. Usually I'm right there with him, so tired that I just go to sleep, but tonight, I was looking forward to having a couple hours to myself. I put him to bed, grabbed the baby monitor, and prepared for some alone time. I sat out on the porch, eating a bowl of ice cream. I did the crossword puzzle in the newspaper. I stared at the same page in my book for ten minutes. I listened to the rain.

I came back inside. Brushed my teeth, washed my face. I wandered around the apartment, thinking about cleaning up but not really feeling like it. There's nothing on TV. Now I'm watching a DVRed Oprah and listening to static on the baby monitor. Alone time just isn't so fun anymore. I feel like going in there and snuggling up with Mason and calling it a night.

There are days, like today, when I think about how I can't believe how much I've changed in three months. Never would I have been bored and ready for bed at 10 o'clock on a Friday night, but somehow, Mason has helped me do things I've never been capable of doing on my own. Most nights, I'm sleeping by 9:30.. and I never go out anymore (although sometimes I'd kill for a beer, don't get me wrong). But I'm satisfied for probably the first time in my life. I've spent so much time looking for the next big thrill, the next crazy thing I could do. I was never careful about anything - I was invincible; my life wasn't anything I'd call precious or fragile.

Now, because Mason stays on my mind no matter where I am or what I'm doing, things are different. He gave me the ability to care about someone else more than I could ever care about myself, and at the same time he made me want to take care of myself more than I ever have before. I can't sit out in the living room for ten minutes without wanting to run and check on him in the bedroom. I don't want to go out and do anything crazy because Mason needs to have me around. It's hard to explain, but he changed me from a selfish, reckless girl into someone I don't even recognize sometimes. I'm completely satisfied being boring. It's his fault. And I love him for it more than he'll probably ever understand.

After work tomorrow, it's my turn to go out and have a few drinks and spend a little time with some friends. I might. I might not. Either way, I know where my heart will be.

Bling

We don't have any teeth yet, but look what came in the mail today!


It's a teething necklace. Not to chew on or anything, just to wear. It actually won't reach his mouth, and if it would break there's a little knot in between each bead so he won't be able to swallow any of them. It's made out of Baltic amber, which supposedly releases oils into the skin that helps babies stay calm and relaxed during teething. Mason is seriously the happiest baby, so I hope that this will help him stay that way once his teeth start poking through. You have to take it off when he sleeps, of course, but that means that the only time I'll (hopefully) have to give him meds is at night. We'll see. There's lots of positive feedback about it online, but who knows if it really works.

Either way, he sure looks cute in it!

Baby Idol

As a little girl, I secretly dreamt of being a singer. A singer, or a model, or an actress... anything where I'd have tons of people looking at me and cheering and loving whatever it was I was doing. Unfortunately, I can't sing, I'm short, and I got a B in Theatre 101.

For some reason though, Mason loves my singing. I can sing anything, from songs I remember from elementary school music class to The Beatles, and he cracks a smile so big it's like getting a standing ovation every time. His favorite is "Hey, Jude", and he laughs and coos through the entire thing. And seriously, it's bad. Completely off-key. Like, if I sing loud enough, I hurt my own ears. Good enough for American Idol, but only for the reject part that they show for the first couple weeks to boost ratings because it's so ridiculous and sad. I feel like, instead of smiling and laughing, he should be calling up all his baby friends and being like, "hey guys, get a load of this!"

He really does love it, although sometimes I have to wonder whether he's laughing with me, or at me.

I suppose it doesn't matter.

Beautiful Mess

Every Monday, it seems like things are in shambles around here. After working all night on Saturday and Sunday, I don't get to bed until really late, so on Monday, I feel like doing absolutely nothing. Yes, the girl who used to come in at 3 in the morning on a boring night is physically exhausted over two nights in a row of being up slightly past midnight. But these days, on Monday mornings at 7am, when Mason starts his squirming and kicking, I'd pretty much give anything for an extra hour of sleep.

But no, Mason doesn't care much about whether or not mommy sleeps. I wouldn't dream of trying to get him to nap, either. Naps are for babies. Sleep is for the weak. Mason wants to get up, eat, play, and poop. He wants me to sing to him, and make funny faces, and carry him around the house. And I do because that's how much I love him.

As a result of sleep deprivation, this is what my usually clean kitchen looks like on a Monday:

The living room isn't too much better:

And me, at 2 in the afternoon, still in pajamas, still not showered. The dark circles under my eyes aren't makeup smudges. I wish they were, but no, they're really there.

Even Mason hates Mondays:

But even at his absolute grumpiest, he's the most beautiful part of my day. I'd never sleep again if I could keep him happy forever.

He's trying to kill me

Mason was in bed with me this morning starting at 5:30. Around 7, he started to grunt, whine, and kick me under the covers. I tried to cuddle him closer, he squirmed around and kicked harder. Alright, alright, I guess it's time to get up.

I was exhausted but I got up anyway, since you can't press the snooze button on a baby. He wasn't completely awake, so I left him there while I went out to the kitchen, started the coffee, turned on the news, and messed around for a minute. I go back into the bedroom to get him and this is what I see:

He's still just like that, an hour an a half later. He didn't want to wake up, he wanted me out of the bed. This tiny baby needed the whole entire bed. And I'm awake. The baby monitor's on.

I haven't heard a peep.

Banana-rama

We're waiting until about 5 months to start Mason out on solid food. But a little taste never hurt anybody. My monkey and his first banana:

It may or may not have been the cause of some really runny poop, but I think he liked it!