Waiting for Birdy

For the past 15 months I've lamented to Jenn that I know I really want another baby... someday...but it's impossible to imagine that we could get as lucky a second time as we did with Owen. Because of that, I'm pretty sure that any second child will be completely un-cute, and therefore horribly unloved.



As a fear, I admit this is far from original for a new Mom. When I'd go into my neurotic spiral (or, rather, exhibit a slice of my constant neurosis) Jenn would laugh and say "Oh, I have to get this book for you. Waiting for Birdy." I would nod and say "Ok." and we'd move on. This last week, Jenn gave me the book - and oh. my. God. It's almost like this woman looked into my head and read my thoughts and wrote them all down as if to mock me and let me think that other mothers are this insane and paranoid. Reading the book is a bit like having a conversation with Jenn about parenting. In fact, I'm going to ask Jenn if Catherine Newman is really her nom de plume. I suspect it is.



I started bookmarking specific pages with passages that I thought "Hey, next time I'm pregnant I'm going to show this to Keith to describe my mental/physical state." But then I realized I was sliding a bookmark in pretty much every page. So, the bottom line is read it. It's hilarious. And every word of it is true.

Sick

After romping in the park, true to form for a 15-month old, Owen happily crashed, exhausted, in the stroller for the short walk home. When I put his sleepy body in his crib, he felt a little warm, but I chalked it up to the warm house, the fun night with Monica, Klaus, and Kai.

Three hours later my poor boy awoke a sweaty, shivery kiddo. His temperature was around 102, and later, 104. No vomit or other fluid loss (wink) just hot and miserable. Tylenol and nursies to the rescue.

Even though I know this happens to every kid - this mysterious viral vagabond sweeping through the house - it takes every fiber of sanity I have to not rush Owen to the nearest urgent care, thrust him towards the attending physician, and insist she "Make him better. NOW." I'm sure said physician would look at me, bewildered, and of course I would have to reminder her that this is Precious Owen and therefore she could be arrested for not jumping to action.

There's just something so heartbreaking about a sick toddler, the ragdoll limpness in the limbs that are normally moving a mile a minute and very often smacking me on the head, the eyes that normally twinkle with the newly formed plan to grab the pen off the desk and practice running down the hall with it, yes those eyes now meet yours and ask "What happened? Why am I hot and cold all at the same time? Why do you keep kissing me?"

He's already starting to look like he feels better, although he's slept most of the day. I know he'll be better, at most in a day or two, but it's just another reminder that being a parent means that you'll often wish it could be you instead of your kid.

Indecision

I was working at the computer and Owen came up to me and waved his arms for "help" (a sign I forgot to mention in my brag blog, heh heh), so I pulled him up on my lap. About 10 seconds later, he wanted down. So I put him down. Then about 10 seconds later he wanted back up. I stood up and picked him up and playfully swung him up and down in my arms. I said, "I dont know what you want, do you want up? Do you want down? Do you want up? Do you want down?" swinging him up and down with my questions. After about 10 swings he said "Yes."

Daddy

Keith is starting to catch on that Tubby Time is the best choice when given the option of "post-dinner clean-up or tubbies?" In the past, I think (and I may be wrong but I don't think I am) that it stressed Keith out a bit to give Owen a bath. Mostly this was when he was really little and it was a bit tricky to clean Owen's little slippery nakedness without some anxiety that he might squirt out of our grasp and fly across the room. For awhile, when I'd give him the post-dinner choice mentioned above, he'd offer to do the dishes (1) because he knows I love tubby time and (2) because of residual tubby fears from when Owen was tiny. Unfortunately for me, now he gets that tubby time with Owen is the funnest thing ever, and my gig is up.

I realized that I let Father's Day come and go without mention. I'm totally embarassed about this, and also without any clue how to pay homage to Keith on a blog. The truth is that he amazes me with his ability to combine playful, protective, sweet, affectionate, and gentle discipline into every moment he shares with Owen. I've learned a lot from watching him and know that will continue for the rest of our lives. I could, and maybe should, say a lot more about this, about the joy of sharing this child with this particular man, or about the fact that I could watch the two of them play together for hours. But beyond that, I'm going to just say here that I'm one lucky Mama & wife. The way I feel about sharing parenthood with Keith is another one of those things that is just too precious for words.

A brag post

Owen now has 24 signs he uses regularly and without prompting.

Please
Thank you
More
Dog
Cat
Horse
Bird
Bear
Gorilla
Monkey
Hat
Banana
Apple
Avocado
Cracker
Water
Eat/food
Cereal
Milk
Ball
Bus/truck
Car
All done
Book

He also nods and says "yes" and shakes his head "no". Last night he said "duck" when playing with his rubber duckie. And he also says "book" "doggie" "kitty" and of course says "Mama" and "Daddy".

Can you tell I'm proud?

When your kid loves other people

Watching Owen with Stew is one of my favorite pasttimes. He LOVES Stew. I mean, Stew walks in the house and it's suddenly "Mama? Who? Oh, you mean the woman with the boobs? Yeah, she's ok." When Stew is there I give him the plate with Owen's dinner because I know he will be more successful than I will at getting Owen to eat some edamame. There's something so heartbreakingly adorable about seeing your child's first other-person crush; he'll walk behind Stew and think that Stew is watching him and he gets this big silly grin and then realizes that Stew didn't see what he just did and will look a little crestfallen...but then he'll peek around Stew's back and catch his eye and crack up, so satisfied with himself for reminding Stew that it's time for The Owen Show.

Books in reverse

In my head, when Owen does this, it makes kind of a "beep beep" sound of a truck backing up slowly. I had always hoped that Owen would do this, ever since my nephew Charlie did it a couple of years ago and completely melted my heart. Owen now will bring a book to me/Keith, turn around with his back to us, and walk a few steps backwards and plant himself in our lap. He is parallel parking into our lap, backing up into a soft comfortable reading chair - a chair that reads TO you, no less, and leans back against our respective chest. I swear, this never gets old, it is perhaps the most adorable thing occurring on this planet, and that includes the really cute baby panda at the SD Zoo, folks.

Biter

Last Monday, the 9th, I went to pick up Owen at daycare and saw that he had an incident report in his cubby; he had bit another kid. When I spoke with his teacher, she emphasized that he's teething and probably uncomfortable, ergo: biting.

The next day she told me the Turtle Rock policy: One bite: note. Two bites: we keep him home for the rest of the day. Three bites: we keep him home for a week. Fourth bite: he's out. As Veena and Keith can easily attest, I was a mess the entire day Tuesday, constantly freaked out that the school was going to call and tell me to come get my little cannibal.

I'll jump over most of the unnecessary drama about this in my head. Mostly I'm just sad that this story has morphed from being a normal teething reaction in a precocious teether (he's working on #'s 13-16) into a possible aggression issue. I'm sorry, but my child is not aggressive. He's FOURTEEN MONTHS OLD, he's getting 4-6 teeth all at once. Those gums need some massaging; can you really blame him for gnawing on the sweet arms of his peers? I'm kidding, of course, but the fact remains that I'm becoming increasingly impatient with his teacher's attitude about it and willingness to change the story as she goes. I'm completely dependent on them to keep him from "biting" - and for the record? He has not tried to bite me ONCE this weekend. Sure, there are plenty of open mouth kisses and raspberries (both of which we are - heartbreaklingly - trying to discourage at the moment), but not one bite. I hope his teachers lighten the hell up and realize that they're probably just making him totally anxious at this point.

Please - send happy no-bite thoughts to my boy this week. I want to put this silliness behind us.

Truly pathetic

I have been the worst blogger ever lately. It's not for a lack of material - Owen does something new and adorable every day and Keith and I have a full plate of goings-on, but for whatever reason, I've been totally uninspired to write anything down. So - I'm going to start writing shorter stories again, just little tidbits of something funny or stressful or whatever, to keep everyone up-to-date, smiling, and to let me let off a little steam.

A brief update on the past week or so:

Keith left his job at Peregrine on Wednesday. They had a nice lunch-out and a happy-hour celebration for him (Owen and I joined for the latter and Owen flirted shamelessly with Debbie for the entire time). I took Thurs-Fri off work to spend time with my boys. On Thursday we went to the zoo with Sharon and Clayton...for SEVEN HOURS. Owen was in heaven, I think we all were. It was such a fantastic day. Unfortunately my camera is broken (still) otherwise I'd upload some pics here.

Friday Keith and I had a "date day". It was blissful! We dropped Owen off at daycare around 9 and went to our old Costa Mesa bagel shop for breakfast, then saw a movie in a theater (Ironman - it was loads of fun and perfect for distraction). We then went and had a couple of beers, then picked up the boy at daycare where we'd planned to partake in the petting zoo they had going on, but all of us were just maxed out on activities. I think we both regretted the beers - we were insanely tired Friday night, but all-in-all it was a perfect day.

Saturday was full of Jenny&Stew fun. Sunday we celebrated Father's Day with Meg, Adam, & Mathis at the park where we were occasionally joined by an apparently-un-parented child who enjoyed chucking things at Keith.

It's been a really busy, but fantastic, few days. Tomorrow: back to work for me, first day of work at Allergan for Keith.

I promise to be a better blogirl.

Dogdar

Sometimes I wonder if everyone has a secret superpower that only needs to be discovered to be unleashed. If that is the case, then I think I've discovered Owen's secret power: the ability to detect dogs anywhere. This morning we embarked on our new Sunday morning routine (breakfast at Cinnamon Productions...usually followed by a trip to the park except we'd forgotten the diaper bag and Owen was, to put it mildly, a tad smelly), and at least four or five times Owen would sign dog, and Keith or I would say "Dog? Where?" and we'd look all around us and conclude, " I don't see a dog sweetie." And then moments later we would notice the dog under the table 20 feet away, or the tiny dog on its owner's lap 30 feet away. We call it his "dogdar". This boy is dog obsessed.

Boobs

We're trying to get Owen attached to a stuffed animal - so he's less attached to my boobs. I remember telling my Mom this story, about how he'll stick his hands in my shirt when we're at the grocery store, or bury his face in my chest in the middle of a restaurant. I could pretty much hear her cocked eyebrow and smirk as she said "Mmmm hmmmmmm?" As soon as I had said it I knew I was preaching to the choir: I've heard the story many times of when my Mom took me along with her and my Dad to a business dinner my Dad was having. Apparently the entire time I was trying to get my hand down my Mom's shirt. She was wearing a turtleneck.

At least I know that she knows what I mean, right?