Oliver update: 24 months

Whereas everyone else has been noticing all these new words Oliver can say, I'm finally having those moments where I too wonder if Oliver just said "big red ball" or said "birthday" when pointing to the train set he got for his birthday. Seemingly random words are coming out of nowhere. Most of the words are still unclear to an untrained ear though. And he still loves saying the word "bus." Chris and I were asking him whether he wanted a new brother or sister and he exclaimed, "Bus!" Even though I feel as big as a bus, I can confidently say that I'm not actually having a bus.

Oliver LOVES any type of vehicle, and generally calls everything a bus, as if it were a collective term for anything with an engine on wheels. He says the word so much that I just had to ask his E.C.F.E. teacher if he was developing an obsessive compulsive disorder or something, but she assured me that because he's interested in buses, he's probably literally thinking of them all the time.

It is cool to witness how much he knows, even if he doesn't have the vocabulary to describe things. Even though he repeatedly says (or yells with excitement) "I saw" or "bus" to every other picture in a picture book, if you ask him to point to a certain object, he'll point to the right one.

Oliver still doesn't have the language skills to carry on a conversation, or even speak in full sentences, but he's starting to be able to convey opinions. Of course he acts like a typical toddler by responding no to many questions you don't really think he doesn't want to do, but when he says yes to something, you know he means it. Then he surprised Chris by saying that he wanted to see fish and monkeys when asked what animals he wanted to see at the zoo. We're used to having one-sided conversations with him where his only response is "yeah," so to have him answer a non yes-or-no question was a big deal for us.

Oliver is also just starting to mimic words we say, which I know will become an embarrassing habit to Chris and me in no time, but it's a sign his language development is moving in the right direction. He and Chris were running around on the baseball field at the park around the corner from our house and Oliver liked smacking the dirt in the infield and watching the dust fly up. Sure, there are more useful words Oliver could be learning, but after hearing Chris say dust a couple of times, I was astonished to hear Oliver was able to repeat it.

And he's just starting to mimic what we're doing. He's done this to some extent for awhile now, but lately it's specific actions he'll mimic. If he sees me sweeping, he wants his try with the broom, even though the handle is so long and unwieldy that he can't do anything more than shove the dirt pile around. Because he sees me shake out laundry before I fold it, he pulls article of clothing out of the hamper and shakes them too. (Too bad he hasn't developed the coordination for folding yet.) The funniest was when I took a spoonful of soup and accidentally spilled some on my arm and I looked over and there he was dribbling soup onto his arm too.

Oliver has been developing his jumping skills for months now. I'm now wondering if his earlier habit of throwing himself upwards and backwards from a sitting position (which drove me nuts, because I thought I was going to get a skull in my teeth) was a precursor to jumping. Now he makes similar movements from a standing position, but his feet still don't leave the ground. I've read that being able to jump is a big gross motor skill milestone, which makes sense. Think of how much coordination and strength it really does take to make your body airborne and then not tumble over when your feet touch the ground again. Our ECFE classroom has a little trampoline with a grab bar and a mirror and it's a big hit with all the little kids.

The other big gross motor skill Oliver displayed this month was being able to walk up our front steps without holding onto the railing or crawling up. He was so proud of himself and clapped for himself when he made it to the top.

The other thing Oliver likes to clap for (besides himself) is for football, even if the other team scores a touchdown. Since Chris once had to bribe me to sit and watch one quarter of a football game with him, (his idea of couples bonding or something) I think he is quite pleased with himself that Oliver likes watching football. Actually, he likes any sport that involves a ball and frequently calls out "Ball!" as the action transpires on the screen.

After what seemed to be a trying summer when the typical acting out behavior of a toddler was getting the best of me, Oliver seems to have mellowed a bit. For sure, he still doesn't listen and thinks it's fun to try to make me catch him and throws fits when he doesn't get his way, but either these behaviors are shorter-lived or less extreme, or I've learned to have more resolve with them and move on. I've been limiting how much I shop with him, a typical flash point, but when I do take him into a store, I tell him ahead of time that he has to stay by mom or he rides in the cart, (I even bring a stroller if I know there won't be carts where we're going) and after one reminder, he gets plunked in the cart no matter how much he balks.

For all the frustrating power struggles, I do see Oliver's maturity growing. It's common for toddlers to fight over toys and basically act like bullies to each other, so the day Oliver offered a toy car to a playmate, I couldn't believe my eyes. A true understanding of the concepts of sharing and taking turns won't come for some time developmentally, but it's clear he's starting to develop empathy. That time he offered up a toy car has not been an isolated incident and he's showing concern for other kids when they're upset. The cutest has been when I've read him the book Oliver Finds His Way and when we get to the part in the book where the little bear realizes he's lost in the woods, Oliver always points at the bear and looks concerned. Then one night, his bottom lip quivered and his eyes welled up with tears. Luckily, Oliver the bear finds his way home to mom and dad, so there's a happy ending!

Oliver has typically been more cautious socially, so he's not the type of kid to throw himself in among a big group of kids. He doesn't mind the presence of lots of other kids, like at Tot Time or the Children's Museum, where it's generally pandemonium, he just likes his space for whatever particular activity he's doing among all that chaos. Other parents and Oliver's ECFE teachers have commented how respectful Oliver is of other kids and what they're doing. (Did they really use the word respectful to describe a toddler?) Instead of shoving his way onto the jungle gym, he's more apt to watch where other kids are playing first before joining in. Everyone wants to have to have the outwardly social kid, so it's nice to be reminded that there's room for all types of personalities on the playground.

All Oliver seems to want to do for fun these days is play with his train set, color or read books. He's really into picture books right now, which definitely tries our patience, as the procedure of having Oliver point at a picture, yell, "I saw!" (or at least that's what we think he's saying) and then one of us naming the object, gets old very quickly. I know it's one way toddlers build vocabulary, but sometimes I tell him he has to pick a book that I can read to him.

With consistently cooler days now here, I recently went through Oliver's clothes to assess what he had for colder weather. Based on my experience last winter when Oliver grew out of a size some time in March, (and we honestly still had two more months of winter left) I've been buying two of all winter clothing, one in size 2T and the same item in size 3T. I'm wondering if that's going to backfire on me, especially with pants. I know Oliver is getting taller, but it otherwise feels like he's stalled in a size (18 months for bottoms/2T for tops). Certain brands of pants are starting to look too short on him, but Chris dressed him in a pair of 2T pants, and they seemed to hold up, (literally) but a few minutes later they suddenly fell down! Meanwhile, his hats, winter jacket and snow pants from last year still fit. (Less to buy, for now at least.)

And with that, I might retire the monthly Oliver updates and instead check back in at more sporadic intervals.

Happy Birthday Oliver!

While talking about our kids, a friend said to me, "Did you ever imagine your heart could fill up with so much love?" Only in theory could I have imagined that. Then Oliver came into my life and now I can't remember what it was like not to have a heart full of love for this little person. I try to think back to that time when we didn't even know there would be an Oliver and wonder if maybe my heart had only been half full.

So from the bottom of my heart, I wish Oliver a very happy second birthday.

Anxieties

A friend of mine is nearly halfway through her second pregnancy and as we talked about my impending due date, she turned to me and asked, "Are you not terrified? I can't wrap my head around the concept of taking care of two kids."

Of course I'm terrified. Some days I feel moments of excitement, but yeah, I'm mostly just terrified. When I was pregnant with Oliver, I daydreamed about all the wonderful moments I'd have with a new baby. Looking back at those innocent, pre-child days gives more meaning to the saying, "Ignorance is bliss." Now I know what I'm in for with a newborn, which is scary enough, but like my friend, I really can't wrap my head around the reality of such a scenario as being up all night with a newborn and then being up again at 6:30 a.m. to spend a non-stop 12 hours with a toddler. I know it'll be easier when they're older, but the needs and schedules of newborns/babies and toddlers conflict with each other and are both demanding.

And I have plenty of other anxieties to keep me awake at night. My main worry is not the possibility of a c-section itself, but the recovery from abdominal surgery, which was a particularly difficult time for me the first time. I was generally in a lot of pain and couldn't do many things for myself. But Oliver's needs as a newborn were rather straight-forward and I had the luxury (even if it didn't seem like it then) of slowly tending to him and making him the priority, even as it felt like the rest of the house was falling apart around me.

As I go about my day with Oliver, I'm realizing that recovering from a surgery and taking care of him in any way will not be possible. Other than when he's sleeping, I'm engaged in a string of tasks that involve sprinting, bending, lunging, grabbing and heavy lifting. I'm kneeling on the floor and bending down to change diapers, lifting him him into his car seat, booster seat, or onto the couch because he sees me lounging there and wants to sit there too, fending off body slams when he gets punchy and thinks running into me or trying to jump on me is funny, and chasing him down the sidewalk when he decides he'd rather not go directly to the car after all.

I'm used to be able/having to take care of everything at home, but it hasn't always been easy and little things like a cold or a missed nap can knock in control out of control. So of course trying to imagine how exactly a major life change like a second baby will affect my life is exciting, but, yes, also terrifying.

Swim lessons

Chris's brother, Andy, was badgering us about when we were going to sign Oliver up for swim lessons. But Chris is busy two nights a week with school and E.C.F.E. is my weekly activity with Oliver, so lack of time is our biggest challenge (plus, swimming is so not my thing). Then Andy said he'd take Oliver...an hour and a half off during the post-dinner, pre-bedtime, how do we keep this kid engaged for the last hour of the day time period...I had Oliver enrolled as soon as registration for a new session opened up a few days after Andy's offer.

Because of Oliver's hesitation around the water at the splash pad this summer, I warned Andy that Oliver might cry. Chris interjected that Oliver would cry. We were trying to keep expectations and the pressure low in case Oliver didn't want to do anything more than hang out by the edge of the pool, but the first lesson ended up going better than any of us could have imagined. According to the official uncle report, Oliver whimpered a little when they entered the pool area and clung to Andy a bit when they got in the water, but otherwise enjoyed all the activities the instructor led them through. Whereas he wouldn't get in above his knees at the splash pad, he floated around with Andy in water up to his neck, let Andy help him float on his back, got to throw balls into the pool (and gingerly trod back in after them) and even stood on the pool deck and let himself fall into Andy's arms. Oliver returned home a tired, but happy, kid. (And Andy got his workout too - all the heavy-lifting of a toddler during the swim lesson activities was more tiring than his softball game the night before.)

I joke about enjoying the time off, but it's nice as a parent to see Oliver reach an age where he can go enjoy an activity with someone other than mom or dad. It's a sign of an emerging independence. Oliver and I have our routine of activities during the week, so I appreciate that he's doing something different than what he gets to do with me. And with the new baby coming, a weekly evening at the pool with his uncle will be a happy diversion.

38 weeks

Well, 38 weeks and four days to be exact and I already feel like I'm sitting around just waiting for this baby to come. And waiting I'll just have to do since the doctor doesn't think I'll go into labor in the next week and suggested I schedule next week's appointment and the following week's as well. I'm still a week and a half out from my due date, so I don't have much reason for impatience or panic, but perhaps my expectations (and more so my husband's) had been adjusted by the previous prediction that I'd go early.

But then again, there's always something that still needs to be done and I'm thankful for the extra time. That is if I actually had the energy to do anything productive! In addition to already feeling so darn tired all the time, the cold I caught recently has zapped me of any remaining energy. I look around the house and think about all the typical "nesting" projects you hear about women undertaking - deep cleaning, preparing and freezing meals for after delivery, organizing - and I just don't have the energy for it.

At least all the must-dos I was stressing about months ago, like transitioning Oliver to a bed (so we could reuse the crib) and setting up the baby's room, have been accomplished. And I'm trying to come to peace with the other bigger projects that aren't going to get finished, like the office/guest bedroom, which has become a disorganized, defacto storage room, (just like the old office was) and the basement renovation, which has come as far as we could have gotten it given the long lead times for special orders on finishes. Chris put a lot of sweat equity into the basement, and it wouldn't have come as far as it has without his "weekend warrior" renovation work ethic, but gosh, I did my part by milking this pregnancy all I could to keep the project moving as quickly as possible. Every contractor, inspector with the City of St. Paul, and employee of Home Depot could pick me out of a lineup of the hundreds of people they deal with a day and then quote you my due date. I started every request for quick turnaround with, "I'm due on October 3 and..."

What to pack?

What am I packing for the hospital? Not much, to be honest. I had no idea what to pack when I prepared to give birth to Oliver. I mulled over suggested packing lists I found on the internet and the one included in the packet from our birth class. It felt wierd to pack for an event I had no experience with and despite my inclination to be ueber-prepared, I hate packing for anything, even the birth of my child.

The best advice I got ended up being from a dad, who recommended packing as if I were going away for the weekend, which meant I really just needed the necessities, especially if I was fine with the hospital-issued gowns and socks and such, which I was. Most of what I finally decided on I needed on a daily basis, so my carry-on suitcase sat nearly empty in my closet, except for a sticky note with my packing list jotted on it. So in the mad dash to pack in the time between when my water broke and I left for the hospital, I packed not much more than a change of clothes, my toiletry case, a hairdryer, earplugs, (hospitals are noisy - smartest thing I packed!) and a bunch of baby clothes in different sizes and combinations. The only item I had felt passionate about, and had put a lot of thought into, the birth plan, I forgot.

This second time around, my packing list is equally minimalist (that is, when I get around to making it). I remember the hospital pillows being really uncomfortable, so maybe I'll bring one of my own this time. And I think I might have forgotten some toiletries last time, and while you are provided with the basics, I discovered hospitals do not provide cute little bottles of Crabtree and Evelyn shampoos and bath gels like at hotels. And I've scrapped the idea of needing a birth plan.

Meanwhile, I've spent more time thinking about what we need to pack for Oliver, who will be spending an extended time with his grandparents. Chris's parents have taken care of Oliver many times and could probably pack for him if it came to that. But making sure he has everything he needs to be as comfortable as possible while away from mom and dad makes me feel better. So his list is a mile long.

Have you had the baby yet?

A common complaint from women nearing their due date is not necessarily back pain or bad sleep, but inquiries from everyone regarding whether the baby has arrived, is about to arrive or do you know when it's going to arrive? I know where these well-meaning questions are coming from. When a good friend was pregnant a year ago, it took all my self-restraint not to ask about an impending arrival date. Instead I finally sent her a short e-mail to ask her how she was doing.

Oliver arrived just early enough that I don't think the nearness of my due date was really on anyone's radar (even my own). But with less than two weeks to go in this pregnancy, the questioning has started. The most inquiries are surprisingly coming from my husband, who checks in daily with a call or text from work to ask if I'm in labor. Apparently work has been a little slow, so now would be a good time for him to have a baby. I promised him that when I go into labor, he'll be the first to know.

For everyone else who comes asking, the answer can be found on this website: http://haveyouhadthatbabyyet.com/

Still a need for vaccines

I was still in college and long from thinking about actually having kids when a friend of mine, who was in med school, decided he didn't want to go into pediatrics. He loved kids - it was dealing with the parents that he feared would be too frustrating. He had gone to school for medicine and had treated patients in developing countries with diseases most of us assume were last a threat to our grandparents' generation, yet he'd encounter parents who trusted Google over his professional opinion regarding the need for vaccinations.

I agreed with my friend that vaccines are important and can't understand any more now than I could then why some people are so vehemently against them. Except now the debate is more personal as I have kids and know that parents who are against vaccinations aren't just putting their own kids at risk, but their communities as well.

Not everyone can be immunized, such as those with compromised immune systems, or can be fully immunized, like babies, but a concept known as "herd immunity" keeps the majority of these populations healthy. The more people immune to a disease, the less likely the disease can find a foothold in a community and spread. (Doctors see chinks in vaccination armor) So when a mom from my mom's group said that she wasn't immunizing her kid because she and her siblings weren't immunized and turned out fine, my opinion is that they got lucky, and that they otherwise had those of who received vaccines (like my brother and me) to thank for their good health.

Now that herd immunity is being quickly compromised for Oliver's generation as more and more parents opt out of vaccinations for their children. (And I will note that underinsurance, lack of insurance and not being aware that the State of Minnesota offers free immunizations to children play a part in declining vaccination rates of children. Currently between 60 and 75% of toddlers have not been fully vaccinated, depending upon which study is quoted...either way, well below the rate needed for most diseases for "herd immunity" to be effective.) With a vaccination for measles, there should not be outbreaks like the two we've had in Minnesota this year, which have sickened mostly babies too young for vaccinations and younger unnaccinated children. It makes me so sad that parents gamble with their children's health by not vaccinating them, but in the case of the Minnesota outbreak, most of the cases occurred within an immigrant community who've been led to believe that vaccinations cause autism.

The claims that vaccines cause autism or other disorders, despite lack of proof for that argument, drives me nuts. The research by the British doctor (Andrew Wakefield) who started the whole vaccines cause autism paranoia has been outed as a fraud and the National Academy of Science's Institute of Medicine recently released an extensive study that concluded there is no link between vaccines and autism. (IOM report) So even though most of what comes out of Congresswoman Michele Bachmann's mouth is outrageous, (she is currently doing damage control after her claim that the HPV vaccine causes mental retardation) what is not laughable is the media attention those with star power garner with their unsubstantiated comments. Whether it's Michele Bachmann or Jenny McCarthy questioning the safety of vaccines, they are not helping the declining vaccination rates in this country.

Even if people don't believe there's a link to vaccines and specific disorders, the vaccines and autism debate has effected, I believe, my generation's trust of vaccines. Even though the woman mentioned earlier is the only person who's ever told me that her child is completely unimmunized, many others have confessed an unease about whether it's safe for such little babies to have so many injections. Or they think the number or what the vaccines protect against is overkill. They can't pinpoint the origins of their concerns and some have even talked to their children's pediatricians, but still, a stuffed-in-the-back-of-their-mind paranoia still remains.

We have to make so many decisions on behalf of our kids and I understand how prevailing trends or stories of freak situations can make one second guess everything. But I wish we hadn't come to the point where something like vaccines, with all the hard data there is to support them, has become something up for debate. Most of my generation, thankfully, has never experienced potentially deadly diseases like measles or whooping cough, and we have vaccinations to thank for that.

Reflections on pregnancy

At the end of my pregnancy with Oliver, I never had a chance to reflect on it, because an early deliver took me by surprise and suddenly it was all over. I had gotten to the point where I really thought I was going to be pregnant forever, and then I wasn't. So just in case I go into labor sooner than expected, (although just by writing this I've jinxed myself into going 42 weeks) I wanted to put something on record.

I can pretty much sum up my feelings with, I still don't like being pregnant and the answer is always, beautiful as always. But for all the complaining I've done, I am thankful I've had the experience(s) of being pregnant, because it's truly an experience I believe you can't fully appreciate until you've lived it yourself. It's all at once a responsibility, a thrill, a pain, a magnet for attention, and a source of bonding with any other woman who's ever given birth to a baby.

Being pregnant has also intensified my belief in choice - for people to use advances in reproductive medicine to conceive, and more so, for women to chose whether they want to become pregnant or stay pregnant.

First haircut

I wonder if the hair stylists at those kids haircut places train by cutting wigs sitting on mechanical bulls. Because that might have been easier than the screaming, thrashing toddler the stylist at a local kids salon encountered today.

Actually, I totally expected Oliver not to like having his haircut. So although I'm sure the other parents looked over at me horrified that I had my kid in a headlock, at least the stylist could (semi) safely trim around his ears and not stab him in his neck with the scissors. When a second stylist came over to assist with distracting Oliver, I asked her if she could imagine what it was like trying to do something that actually caused pain, like drawing blood. She never let up with her cheerful banter and assured me this was a typical reaction for a two-year-old.

Luckily, Oliver didn't have much that needed trimming, so the whole ordeal couldn't have lasted longer than four minutes, including the "consultation." I think I'm just happy that Oliver finally just had enough hair to cut, and now he's got a cleaned up look for all those pictures he'll end up in with his new sibling.

37 weeks and on borrowed time

I reached 37 weeks on Monday, a major milestone since the baby is now considered to be full term, and already feel like I'm borrowed time because of the paranoia that I could go into labor at any moment. Based on my 36-week appointment last week, my doctor didn't think I was going to give birth any time in the next couple of days (disappointing my mother-in-law who thought a 9-10-11 birthday would be really cool). But the prediction is still that I could go early. And there's still so much to do, both in actual preparations for the baby (like finishing the baby's room) and things I'd feel at peace knowing they were taken care of now (typical nesting projects focused on reogranization and cleaning).

The good news that came out of last week's appointment is that the baby's head is down, (so no breech baby) which took the ultrasound technician a nanosecond to confirm. She took some additional pictures and meausrements to pass along to my doctor and everything looks as it should be.

The hurdle is that I tested positive for Group B Strep, of which about 25% of healthy women are carriers. There are generally no symptoms and you can test negative during one pregnancy (the case with Oliver) and positive the next, so most women are tested around 36 weeks since a few weeks prior to the due date is the best point at which to predict the GBS status at the time of delivery. The risk is that GBS can be passed along to a baby during delivery. Women who test positive are therefore given antibiotics at least four hours before delivery. This could be difficult for women who want to labor as long as possible at home or who end up with very short labors, but I'm not seeing either being an issue for me.

Happy birthday and anniversary

To the only other person who reads every word of my blog other than my grandmother, happy birthday and happy anniversary! Twenty-nine years ago today you changed the course of lives both present and future simply by arriving on this earth and three short years ago tomorrow we said our vows under the dry roof of a barn, only dreaming of the family we have today. Let us keep dreaming of what we have to come.

Every now and then I get a major reminder of how different my life is now, (busy, but boring and surprisingly complicated!) like when I got a surprise call from a high school friend who was hitchhiking from Chicago back to California after spending weeks backpacking around Europe. I rarely get visitors from anyone besides family here in flyover country, so I was excited to try to get together with him.

Planning a simple get together can be complicated if you have young kids though. It was 5:30 p.m. and he wanted to make plans for dinner. We just finished dinner, I explained (as I tried cradling my cellphone against my ear while scrubbing down a pissed-off Oliver who was screaming and thrashing around). What about later on that night he wanted to know? Well, Chris had class and Oliver goes to bed around 6:30 p.m., and I couldn't make any other arrangements to watch Oliver so last-minute. Then the suggestion came to meet after Chris's class. Well, I'm 37 weeks pregnant, I continued, and I didn't know how much fun I'd be, say, past 7:00 p.m. The 37 weeks part meant nothing to him, so I tried again.

"I'm three weeks away from my due date," I said.

"Oh, so you're about to pop!" he excitedly responded.

Later he learned he could borrow a bike from the friend he was staying with, and the next day he biked the six or seven miles to my house (and got lost about 15 times on his way) to have dinner with us.

I hoped that he really did understand that I wasn't trying to be difficult and that I honestly did want to see him, but that life with a toddler and a baby on the way really had become restrictive, even for a stay-at-home mom who technically had no "plans" for the days in question.

We caught each other up on the last five years of our lives since we last saw each other. He had relocated across the country and worked on Obama's campaign, among many jobs he can easily put in the "cool life experiences" category. He quit his latest job to go to Europe for a second chance with an ex-girlfriend and now back home, plans to bartend in San Francisco while mulling over grad school and job opportunities. I introduced him to Chris and Oliver ("A little Partenheimer! he cried in near disbelief) and gave him a tour of our house and basement renovation. I told him the story of how Chris and I met and about the road from working-world professional to stay-at-home mom. We are leading vastly different lives, but we were able to share an excitement about what the other was doing.

I had been worried my friend would think I was inflexible or had lost my free spirit, but I think he totally got it. He appreciated the life and family Chris and I had created for ourselves. On his way out the door, he said it was just a matter of finding the right woman and then he'll be calling me for advice on all the kid stuff. I'll have a lot to share, but until then, I'm also happy to live vicariously through his vagabond lifestyle.

September is celebration month

My brother's birthday was Friday, Chris's is on the 12th, Oliver's is on the 29th and thrown into the mix is my anniversary on the 13th...Chris and I didn't plan this all so well....

Because I'm due on October 3, Chris agreed to a dual birthday party with Oliver and I agreed to keeping it immediate family only. After last year's party where we invited everyone young and old who had touched our lives the first year of our baby's life, it took a lot of self-restraint to really keep this year's party small. There were no invitations printed on Shutterfly, no gaggle of adorable babies, no balloons, no decorations. Instead, Chris's parents and brother joined us on the back deck for a dinner of grilled chicken and corn on the cob, baked mac 'n' cheese (a favorite of both Chris and Oliver) and salad, followed by homemade cupcakes (for Oliver) and a Dairy Queen cake (for Chris). The 75-slide Powerpoint slideshow I had prepared for Oliver's first birthday depicting the first year of his life was replaced with a display of photos from the second year attached to a closeline. Can you believe I only chose 35?

Being forced to keep it simple ended up being a blessing. Oliver had no clue we were celebrating his birthday and no interest in opening presents or even eating any cake, so having a ton of people over wouldn't have made him more into his birthday. With the pressure off, we could enjoy conversation and what he wanted to do, which included chasing our neighbor's chickens that had gotten into our yard. He obliged us by sitting for a rendition of Happy Birthday, (and reached for the burning candles!) but was presumably too full from dinner to want to eat even a piece of cupcake (and presumably was not expressing an opinion about my baking ability). He said no to multiple requests to open presents and would have been very content to keep playing with the train cutouts that had decorated his cupcakes or the car-shaped picture frame I had placed on top of his presents. So Chris and I ended up opening all his presents for him, which he did get into when he saw what was in the boxes, particularly the train book and the wooden train set.

Happy birthday Scott!

My little brother turns 30 today. I didn't find turning 30 a big deal, but Scott reaching his milestone birthday, well, gosh, I really do suddenly feel old. Having my little brother in his 20s was somehow a psychological divide that kept me feeling young. The same can be said about my husband, who's a year and a couple days younger than Scott. So the true panic attack will most likely come next year when Chris joins us in the over-30 club.

Meanwhile, I have no worries about Scott. With a challenging new job, his own apartment and a couple of marathons and plays with the local theater he acts and directs for, he's got a great year ahead of him.

Let's complain about parenting

A member of one of my parent groups posted this NPR article, Parenthood Got You Down? You're not Alone, whose author, Alan Greenblatt, writes about how tough, incredibly tough, parenting is, yet no one wants to admit it. Parents, he writes, "feel the need to extol the joy a child has brought into their lives," and "admitting that the kids are wearing you down [...] seems to be taken as some kind of statement that you don't love them." He thinks we'd feel less alone if we didn't feel the need to affirm the belief that we love everything about parenting and could just be honest with each other.

I could have written this same article about being a stay-at-home mom. While I have many friends, male and female, who are honest about the realities of being a parent, get a group of stay-at-home moms together and sometimes it sounds like everyone is towing the party line. "Being a mommy is the best job!" "Staying home with him was the best decision I ever made." "I couldn't imagine not being there for her."

We do talk about the challenges of parenting and no topic is verboten - breastfeeding, toilet training, sleep deprivation, tantrums, and sometimes even the monotany and frustration of spending your whole day with kids whose vocabularly doesn't extend much beyond "No!" and "Mine!" But to go beyond saying you wonder what you got yourself into becoming a parent and admitting you question becoming a stay-at-home mom, that conversation just doesn't happen.

Has no one else ever struggled with an identity crisis after trading career for stay-at-home parenting? Aren't there some days that make you want to scream in frustration too? Aren't you still coming to terms with the reality that being a stay-at-home is NOTHING like you thought it would be? Does no other stay-at-home mom question the reason(s) she decided to stay home in the first place? Don't you also get lonely?

I wonder if talking about these deepest darkest secrets of stay-at-home parenting can be interperted, like parenting in general, as not loving your kids. But more is at stake. Most of us stay-at-home moms today chose this path, in contrast to our grandmothers who may have not had many, or any, other options and to our own mothers, many of whom overcame societal and logstical obstacles to have careers. Having choices when it comes to families and careers is good, but I feel like we're left defending that choice, whether we chose to stay at home or continue working after having kids. To complain or admit that we're not always happy is threatening to our own strongly-held beliefs that staying home with our kids is what is "best" or "right."

Greenblatt concludes his article about parenting with:

Let's make a deal. Let's be honest with each other, or at least one friend, that there are times when the whole enterprise feels like a bad idea. Let's be less alone with this and maybe even laugh about it, putting aside for just a few minutes the earnest need always to say, omigod it's so great.

Maybe us moms can try to do the same when talking about the joys and challenges of staying home with our kids.

You're never wrong with a tie

With a hot, hot summer, and a desire to dig in dirt and sand, Oliver's sole attire week after week had been casual shorts, t-shirts and the only pair of shoes he owned in his size, a pair of Keen sandals. His wardrobe had fit his needs for the summer, but when the invitation arrived for the wedding of one of Chris's cousins, I took one look at Oliver (who happened to be jumping in a mud puddle at that moment) and sounding way too much like my grandmother, exclaimed, "I can't take him to a wedding looking like that!"

We have a saying in our family - you're never wrong with a tie. According to my grandmother, when my dad was a "youngster" he was invited somewhere and my grandmother said he had to wear a tie and he said nobody else would have a tie on, to which she replied "You're never wrong with a tie." And that's how an off-hand retort became an ingrained belief in my family. So even though we're not otherwise formal-dressing people, there are situations in which the men in my family would never consider not wearing a tie, even if they forgo a jacket and pair it with a casual button-down shirt and pair of khakis.

Despite warnings to the contrary, Oliver tolerated his very grown-up looking outfit, even the the clip-on tie, and he had a great time at the wedding. He played on the church playground during the ceremony, ran around the golf course during the reception and even got a ride on a golf cart after his Uncle Andy talked an employee into loaning them the cart. He even got away with a couple of mini tantrums, probably of course, because you're never wrong with a tie.