Oliver update: 23 months

Oliver still points things out that he notices on his own, such as every large vehicle or airplane that passes us by, but now when we read a book, he'll point out things in our house that he sees in the illustrations. For instance, if the character in the book is going to bed, he'll point up towards his room, or if the kid in the book is holding a blanket, he'll point to the blanket on the couch. He's always liked Where is Baby's Belly Button, (and any other lift-the-flap book), but he doesn't seem interested in lifting the flap on each page anymore. Instead, he likes to point out on his own body each body part this is mentioned in the book. (I often don't know whether certain behaviors are unique to Oliver or correspond to a developmental pattern, but I coincidentally read recently that toddlers at precisely this age like to point out body parts.) The funniest is when the little boy David in the book No David is pictured sitting in time-out, Oliver points to his own time-out chair, which seems to have taken a permanent place facing a corner in our dining room.

Oliver clearly understands so much - you can look at a picture book with him and ask him to point out various vehicles and he can follow directions (when he wants to of course) - and his speech is slowly, very slowly, improving. He loves to say hi and bye to anyone and everything, but his more advanced vocabulary includes shoe, brush, help, water and mama, which is also how he pronounces lawnmower. None of these words he pronounces with perfect clarity, except for bus, which he must say 50 times a day. We're not sure if he thinks bus is a collective term for anything on wheels, or if he just likes saying the word, since he'll sometimes repeat the word over and over again completely out of context. Despite his small vocabulary, he's still babbling a lot. He was having an extended "conversation" with the grandfather of one of his little buddies, and then man turned to me, and with a bit of guilt in his voice, asked if I know what he's saying when he talks. "Not really!" I admitted.

This last month was probably Oliver's most painful teething experience. Although teething has caused him to be cranky, it's never disrupted his sleep like it did for a good week or two in a row when he'd wake up multiple times at night crying really hard. Middle-of-the-night doses of Ibuprofen luckily helped. The only upside to all the night wakings was that some days he's sleep past 8:00 a.m. I slept right up to his wake-up call one of those days. I honestly can't remember the last time I slept past 8:00 a.m. (and when sleeping in wasn't preceded by middle-of-the-night feedings).

After Oliver started sleeping more soundly through the night again, we made the switch from a crib to a bed. The transition was mostly uneventful, except that his naps have been shorter because the allure of his books and toys have been irresistible. Despite putting him to bed earlier at night to help him make up some sleep, he still seems sleep-deprived. Afternoons have become an especially difficult time of day because Oliver is often so cranky. (As am I from just general pregnancy fatigue.) We resorted to having him nap in the pack 'n' play for a few days last week in the hopes that it would help him catch up on sleep, which would maybe put him back on track to be able to nap better in his bed.

I'm not sure if it was just teething or a combination of standard toddler moodiness, but I hit a rough couple of days where Oliver's behavior (combined with my not-so-level-headed reaction to it) left me in tears for being "that parent" who can't control her out-of-control kid. Folks aren't kidding when they say toddlerhood is a challenging phase. Toddlers are at a point where they've made huge gains developmentally, but they still don't have the maturity to control impulses, express emotions or wants in a constructive manner or do many things for themselves (yet they want to). Despite understanding the theory behind the behaviors of this age group, dealing with calm and confidence of your own flesh and blood who's trying to rip everything in sight off the store shelves is another matter.

Despite a phase of toddler moodiness, as I like to call it, Oliver is a lot more comfortable in situations that previously would have caused him to scream at the sight of even a loving relative. Every child goes through separation anxiety to some degree and for some length - it's very normal and expected.(I just wish I'd understood earlier that I wasn't causing Oliver's separation and that there's not a way to "cure" it, just tactics to help child - and parent - cope.) So it's a relief to see how attached Oliver is becoming to Chris's parents and brother and it's a surprise to see him approach other adults, want to sit on someone's lap or let a friend pick him up and hold him. He still appears happier playing with small groups of kids and isn't the type to be clingy with other kids, (or tolerate other kids invading his personal space) but I have noticed subtle changes in his comfort level around others.

We're not planning on taking Oliver in for his two-year wellness check until after the baby is born and needs to go in for his/her two-week check-up. Chris got really curious about how tall Oliver is now, so he pulled out his tape measure and attempted to try to measure the height of a moving target. It actually took the two of us to get an accurate measurement, but he's 34 inches tall. We just wish we knew how much he weighs. It seems like he's never going to grow out of size 18 month pants. Which is a good thing since the sales for back-to-school shopping got me thinking about fall clothes and I discovered that I have virtually nothing for colder weather in size 2T, which is the t-shirt size he's been wearing all summer.

People ask if Oliver has any clue that he's going to become a big brother soon. He likes to point out my big stomach, (thanks for noticing kid!) but I've heard that cognitively, kids this age just can't understand the concept of a baby growing inside mom's stomach and what it means to become a sibling. We talk about the new baby a little bit and make jokes about the good life ending, (like he understands that kind of humor at this age) but that's about it. I'd like to get him a book about being a big brother and a doll, but that just keeps falling to the bottom of the to-do list. I also think those types of things will have more impact when the baby is actually here.

A lot of kids form attachments to objects, the obvious being some sort of object they have to sleep with. Oliver doesn't have the can't-function-without type of attachment to one particular object, but I do think it's cute how he likes to bring a little plastic shovel, or some other sand toy, on walks with him. Even if we don't plan on stopping at the park, he just likes to hold it. He's always been pretty good about riding in his car seat, but has gotten more defiant about getting in over the last couple of months, because he'd rather be running around than getting buckled in. He usually settles down pretty quickly if I give him the shovel or another toy to hold or a book to look at. As for putting him to bed, for good measure, we make sure he has his giraffe lovey, a stuffed polar bear and a brown bear stuffed animal from the Eric Carle book. So far though, he doesn't have a need for certain things to come to bed with him and hasn't been clamoring to put half his possessions in his bed with him at bedtime.

Every teacher probably knows this trick, but if we talk to Oliver in a whisper, he matches our tone. I'll put him to bed and talk about our day really quietly and then tell him it's time to go to sleep and he answers back with a hushed, "Yeah." He's usually full of expression first thing in the morning, (positive or negative, depending upon which side of the crib he wakes up on) so when Chris was still sleeping, but I had to duck into our bedroom to get something, I told Oliver we had to keep our voices down and then put my finger up to my mouth and said, "Shhhh." Oliver followed me into the room and copied me by repeatedly saying, "Shhh, shhh," and not very quietly! That was the end of Chris's sleeping in.

A friend commented on how many tan babies she's been seeing and doesn't think babies should be tan. I looked over at Oliver, who was looking rather tan, even under the fluorescent lighting of the gym we were in. I agree kids need sunblock no matter what their complexion, but it's summer, Oliver has been spending a lot of time outside, and after much speculation between Chris and me, (babies are born with fairer skin, so it was hard to tell when Oliver was really young) it looks like Oliver's skin tone is going to more match his dad's. Which means that Oliver's arms are darker than mine!

New Parent Connection two years later

As a first-time mom with my husband away for the day at work or school, I was home alone for long stretches with a newborn Oliver. I knew I needed to get out and meet other parents, but had no idea where to turn. I did what anyone else of my generation would do by searching the Internet and stumbled upon a weekly gathering for new parents at a local hospital, United Hospital. I started attending New Parent Connection when Oliver was four weeks old, a point in which I was still recovering from a c-section and feeling like a physical and emotional mess. Breastfeeding was more difficult than I could ever have imagined, I knew nothing about child development or babies and sleep deprivation was wearing me thin. By the end of my first New Parent Connection session, I knew the group was my lifeline during what was such a vulnerable period in my life.

Over the next few months, the weekly New Parent Connection gathering was the highlight of an otherwise mundane week of caring for a newborn. I was with parents in the same place in life and I had people to commiserate, laugh (and, yes, sometimes) cry with. The facilitator, Kathy, had a knack for listening and making you feel like an empowered parent, even as you admitted you had no idea what you were doing. Eventually Oliver aged out of New Parent Connection and I was really sad to stop attending, but I knew I was a much different mother and person than when my son was four weeks old, and felt I was ready to move on.

Most of the moms from my New Parent Connection cohort went back to work, lives became even busier, and parenthood, while still daunting, didn't feel so new anymore. But slowly many of us began to reconnect on Facebook, playdates, stroller walks and visits to local story times were planned, and invitations to the odd soup swap were issued. One woman organized a baby sign language class and others of us ended up in the same early childhood education class as our "NPC friends." Our paths kept crossing in what can feel like a very small parenting network.

After some time, real friendships formed. The issues we faced when we first met at United Hospital may have changed, but we discovered that the need for peer support never lessened. We started a babysitting coop and monthly meal exchange and got to know each other's partners, and some cases, extended family. I provided daycare for a little girl from the group, whose mom ended up becoming the daycare provider for another in the group, while I in turn, provided daycare for another NPC friend's son. As a testament to how quickly life marches on, some of us have even had a second child in this time.

So it was quite special to gather at a park on a late summer afternoon morning nearly two years after we met to have a group birthday party for our kids, who were born within a few months of each other. Whether quite early or a little belated, the happiest of birthday wishes go out to Alexa, Wyatt, Noelle, Archer, Elsa, Atticus, Stella, Gabe, Vivian, Baron and Oliver.

Maternity photos

Maternity photographs are not for me. Some women take photographs of themselves weekly throughout pregnancy and others post "belly pics" on Facebook. And there's a niche in the photography business for maternity photos. No matter how many people will try to tell me how beautiful pregnancy is, gaining tons of weight, losing seemingly all muscle tone and wearing ill-fitting maternity clothes is not the time I care to be photographed, especially to pay to be photographed.

If I've ever felt guilty about thinking a maternity photo session would be cheesy or awkward for me, this blog entry on Awkward Maternity Photos
let me put any regrets to rest. And gave me a really good laugh!

Ultimately, I've felt compelled during both pregnancies to have the standard sideways-pose-showcasing-protruding-stomach shots to be taken. I doubt I'll look back at them with any overwhelming sentimentality, (Awww....look how big I was. I miss those days.) but, hey, I have them. And they're tasteful enough that I'm hoping my kids won't someday upload them to a site like awkwardfamilyphotos.com.

Toddlerhood is a tough life

What is so tough about the life of toddlers, I've complained a lot recently. Someone does everything for them, they have no responsbility and their daily schedule can be summed up in three words: eat, sleep and play.

Despite how exciting it is to discover a new world, I guess some aspects of toddlerhood can bee indeed frustrating. They do get to play a lot, but someone's always telling them when to play, where to play, what to play (or not) play with, when to stop playing, who to play with and so on. And not being able to articulate their wants and desires does create a lot of misunderstands between toddlers and the know-it-alls, also known as their parents. But really, in so many circumstances, I'm not even sure toddlers know what they want. They'll whine incessently for dinner, but then throw it on the floor after one bite. No wonder their tantrums make adults want to throw a tantrum.

As much as I've tried to learn about the developmental changes occurring in this age group and why they behave the way they do, nothing has been as insightful (and funny!) as this bit of comic relief.

http://jasongood.net/365/2011/08/day-215-approximately-3-minutes-inside-the-head-of-my-2-year-old/?fb_ref=AL2FB&fb_source=home_multiline

Bed transition

Of the major transitions/milestones in a young child's life, transitioning from a crib to a bed probably ranks right behind toilet training, getting rid of the pacifier and starting solids in the amount of anxiety and frustration created for parents. We were motivated though to transition Oliver from his crib to a bed because we need the crib for the new baby. I've been anxious about setting up the baby's room and now that it's finally be cleared out and the new area rug laid down, it's time to move the furniture in. So I disassembled the crib and moved it to the other room, and laid down a new twin mattress with sheets, comforters and for the first time, pillows!

After three nights and as many naps without the security of his crib, Oliver is doing well. Given that we had a successful trial run at the cabin a few weeks ago, I had a decent amount of confidence that the switch wasn't going to be a complete disaster. But still, this time we were making the switch for good and there was no going back. (Even if I had a pack 'n' play set up on stand-by, just in case...)

The first night Oliver cried when I put him to bed on his new mattress, but he settled down quickly, but then I heard him up and about a half an hour later. When I entered his room, he was standing by his bookcase and excitedly held up a book when he saw me. Clearly he had discovered the benefits of not being in a crib. He has free access to his toys and books!

The second night I peeked in his room before I went to bed and I was alarmed when I couldn't find him. My flashlight darted around his room until I finally noticed him on the very edge of his bed with his head and upper body resting on the mattress and his lower body splayed out on the floor in a jumble of blankets. I could hear him softly breathing and decided it was better to let him keep sleeping like that than risk waking him up.

Naps have been more difficult, because I don't think he sleeps as soundly, and once he wakes up, he's up. So naps have been half as long as usual, which means Oliver has been sleep-deprived (and relatively cranky) the past couple of days. I've been putting him to bed 30-45 minutes earlier at night to try to help him catch up on sleep and I'm hoping that he eventually gets over the excitement of the bed and starts napping longer again.

I get it

Before I had kids, there's a lot I didn't get about life and perspective as a parent, but now I totally understand. I get the allure of the minivan, the suburbs and the single-family home. I get the obsession with sleep schedules and developmental milestones. I get the appreciation for drive-throughs and those big-box stores with their convenient parking, huge carts and one-stop shopping. I get the need for "stuff," especially the unnecessary stuff that makes life with kids easier, more fun or just bearable. I get the unavoidable reality of messy houses, toy-strewn living rooms, "snot-nosed" kids and public temper tantrums. I get the desire to be close to family, even if it means trading city life for middle-of-America. I get the thrill of grocery shopping alone, staying out past 10 p.m. and sleeping in past 8:00 a.m. So in humble recognition of every pre-child eye-roll, "I'll never" and "How could they?" I realize now, I get it.

Jealousy

I hate to admit this, but there's a little jealousy brewing at my house and I'm not sure what to do about it. I have little energy and my social life has withered, while Chris continues to be able to stay out late with friends - and also function the next morning. Some of my problem has to do with my attitude. I don't take much initiative with my social life anymore, because I'm wary of looking like a flake by backing out of plans if I'm too tired, or there are few activities I think would be of interest to my friends that fit my need to be indoors when it's really hot, not be too physically tiring and not occur too late (i.e. after 7:00 p.m.). So yes, I could have a better attitude, but when I feel like I'm going to fall asleep at the table during a rare night out with friends, it's difficult to feel like the life of the party - feels instead like defeat for a naturally social person.

As my non-pregnant other half goes to bars and parties with friends, takes up an offer for free tickets to a baseball game with a mere two-hour's notice, plays in a rec sports league and goes out for an impromptu beer or dinner after games and gets to entertain the idea of a multi-night canoe trip, yup I'm feeling left out. Obviously the answer isn't to forbid him from having any fun, but I don't know how to let go of the jealousy I feel because his hobbies and social life haven't changed while mine have.

This baby has an eviction date

My 32-week ultrasound appointment was routine and quick. Just one of those, how are you feeling, let's listen to the baby's heartbeat kind of appointments. I told my doctor I decided I'm going for a TOLAC, (trial of labor after cesarean) because I can't sign myself up for surgery with the thought that I have the chance for a successful vaginal delivery. I found myself so miserable during the recovery from my c-section with Oliver that I still can't believe that planned c-sections are usually easier, despite what friends who've had repeat c-sections have assured me.

My doctor remains in full support of letting me go into labor and seeing what happens, but because she wouldn't recommend an induction in my case, says a c-section will be necessary if labor doesn't start on its own. She recommended scheduling a c-section right before my 42nd week (two weeks past my due date), just so I have the date and time I want on the calendar. If I want my OB to perform the c-section, I had a choice between a Tuesday or a Friday, so I decided on the last Friday before my 42nd week, October 14. This date is special for me because it was Oliver's due date.

But like Oliver, my OB's guess is that baby #2 will come early as well, so putting a c-section on the calendar is merely scheduling an eviction notice, should I get to that point.

You're hired!

I don't know how stay-at-home parents manage without help. As friends fretted about trying to choose the right daycare or how to manage gaps in care, such as during school vacations or if both parents need to work late, I assumed being a stay-at-home parent avoided all those problems. But what I didn't realize (and then accept) was that just because I didn't need full-time daycare, I'd still need help, especially during the day.

I'm lucky to have in-laws who will watch Oliver with little notice and friends from the babysitting coop who feel comfortable watching him as if he were one of their own. Having hours-long or even overnight breaks has been enough for me to recharge, and in those weeks after Oliver's birth, allowed me to feel human again. Chris and I are more fortunate than some parents we know who don't have anyone close by who they can call upon and trust to watch their kids. But none of the people we have relied on since Oliver's birth is available during the day and I have been discovering more and more ways why that was problematic.

As Oliver morphed from a sleepy infant who could be carted around in his car seat to an active kid with a set schedule, his own interests and a developmental need to keep moving, I found it harder and harder to do the things I had previously taken care of over lunch breaks, leave from work or on the commute home. For instance, I can't take a kid with me to the dentist or to the salon for a hair cut. Scheduling doctors appointments has been a logistical headache and Oliver has had to accompany me to more than one ultrasound. Errands had become highly orchestrated operations. (And that's just with one kid, not two kids on completely different schedules.) I managed to make do (or just without).

Then Chris started traveling and later I got pregnant, and day after day, I wondered if I was going to make it through the afternoon. I was often on my own for a week at a time and either I was nauseous, exhausted, was dealing with a whiny kid while trying to make dinner, or all of the above. Chris eventually stopped traveling and his work load at the home office even slowed down, so having him home more surely helped. But he'll be starting back up with school in the fall and if I've managed any semblance of keeping the household afloat and my sanity in order, I know that the arrival of a new baby will upend any routine or order we had created.

My "aha moment" regarding hiring a sitter occurred on a very hot afternoon at Target, where I had taken Oliver just to have somewhere (air-conditioned) to go to kill time before Chris got home. I ran into a friend, who I almost didn't recognize because she was kid-less. They were with their regularly-scheduled sitter and my friend looked very relaxed. Chris and I had been discussing the idea for awhile of hiring someone, but after my chance encounter at Target, less than 24 hours later, I had a job posted on the website my friend said she had used. Starting in two weeks, Tara, a college student who happens to live nearby, will be coming two afternoons a week.

I'm a little nervous as I hope and hope that Tara is indeed a good match for Oliver and that she likes being our nanny. And I have no idea what the transition of having a nanny care for Oliver and then a newborn will look like. I'm hoping it's not too chaotic.

But overall I'm very excited. I'm hoping a regularly-scheduled sitter will make my life less stressful and Oliver's more fulfilling. Although I had assumed that as his parents, Chris and I would be his only caregivers, I think he's at an age where he will enjoy having other adults be a regular presence in his life. And practically-speaking, I think we've hit a stage in our lives with work and school obligations and another kid coming, where we can't get away with not having a paid sitter.

Despite my original reluctance to hire a sitter, (a reluctance based on denial) I'm keeping my fingers crossed that the set-up works out so well that I'll wished I'd hired someone sooner.

Duluth getaway

One of the most challenging aspects of our basement renovation has nothing to do with the work itself, but rather planning around Oliver's schedule. Chris has managed to frame much of the basement and finish the new bathroom in his free time away from work and in those limited hours when Oliver isn't sleeping or begging to play. But when one of the contractors announced that he'd need to do a lot of jackhammering on his first day on the job, Chris, who has the week off of work, suggested we leave town and take Oliver to Duluth.

Duluth is a special place to Chris and the attachment he formed to the city during his college days is similar to the nostalgia I feel for the two places I had lived in during a similar period in my life, Brunswick, Maine and Freiburg, Germany. I'd love to go back to either place with Oliver and Chris someday, but since Duluth is just a 2 1/2-hour drive up the interstate, it was a more logical choice for a trip down memory lane.

Since Oliver loves sand, water and things that move, that's how we determined the agenda for our visit. We got into town just in time to take the afternoon ride on a scenic railroad out of Duluth's old train station. After an early dinner, we drove to across the iconic Lift Bridge to a beach along Park Point, a neighborhood of Duluth that sits on a sandy spit jutting a few miles out onto Lake Superior. The day had been unusually warm for Duluth and the lake the warmest Chris has felt it, so the two of them played in the sand and on the edge of the shoreline. We had enough foresight to bring sand toys, but miraculously, no swim gear, and by the time we left, Oliver's clothes were wet and his diaper mostly water-logged.

The next morning we walked in Canal Park, where it had been cold, windy and mobbed with runners and fans back in June for Grandma's Marathon and the skies threatened rain. Instead, we had another day of unusually warm weather and sun. We happened to be in the park when the Lift Bridge was raised to allow a freighter ship go through. Oliver did love watching the ship sail by, and he and the crew waved to each other, but he cried when the ship blew its horn announcing its arrival.

The latter half our morning was spent at another beach at the far tip of Canal Point. After years in Minnesota, I'd nearly forgotten the sight of miles of sandy beaches and actually didn't think such a setting existed here. So while most of the North Shore reminds me of Maine with its rocky shores stretching out into a vast body of water, the lake side of Park Point has wide sandy beaches stretching its entire length. Like the night before, Oliver loved standing in ankle-deep water, dumping sand and water in and out of his bucket and throwing small rocks into the water. I honestly think he would have stayed there until he literally dropped from hunger, but Chris and I eventually announced it was time to leave and go have lunch. We found a shady spot in the park on the other side of the dunes and we couldn't have planned a better picnic spot. A crew was using a Bobcat to grade the sand volleyball courts near our lunch spot and small planes from the airport on the other side of the road from the park were taking off and landing practically over our heads.

In the end, we only spent 24 hours in Duluth, and we surely had some difficult moments with Oliver's messed up nap schedule (we realized we cannot rely on Oliver to sleep in the car) and my lack of energy, (read my last blog entry) but the trip ended up being exactly the kind of quality time I had been hoping to enjoy in these final crazy weeks as a family of three.

Pregnancy fatigue

"I'm more tired this time around" is a common refrain heard from moms experiencing their second pregnancy. I had prided myself on my energy level when pregnant with Oliver, but this time around, yes, I understand what women are talking about when they say they're more tired. That would be an understatement for me.

I have hit a few points during this pregnancy where a doctor would have probably diagnosed me with exhaustion (during that supposedly energetic second trimester, no less). And even without nausea, the first trimester (and then some) was miserable with the fatigue alone. I've been doing a lot better these past few weeks, but mostly I'm just really, really tired, and that's still no fun. I try to sleep 9-10 hours a night and don't go out anymore past sunset and yet I still never feel rested.

Maybe others who've been pregnant with a second kid would agree, but I think the biggest difference (not accounting for the fact that no two pregnancies are alike) is that it takes so much more energy when you're responsible for a toddler. When you're already a parent, there are fewer opportunities to slow down or take a break, even when you know you need it. Because I was pregnant with Oliver at the exact same point I'm pregnant with this one, I make a lot of comparisons, like not remembering being this hot or worn out by the heat. But last time I could wear myself out with a walk in the summer heat, because I knew I could spend however long I needed to recuperating in front of a fan with a cold drink in hand and taking a refreshing shower. Now just thinking about wrestling Oliver in and out of a stroller and the house just to go on a walk tires me out. I feel like I'm always conserving what little energy I have just to make sure I have a enough to meet Oliver's needs for 12 hours a day. (Thank goodness he still sleeps 12 hours at night!)

Thankfully Chris has loads of energy - enough to seemlingly to pick up my slack. He plays with Oliver outside in the afternoon heat, cheerfully reads books or colors with him and chases him around and plays other silly games, all while I sometimes feel like I can do nothing more than sit slumped in a chair. We're also talking about hiring a babysitter before Chris goes back to school. We know we'll need the help once the new baby arrives, and we'd like to give Oliver time to warm up to someone new, but I know having some time off here and there before the baby comes will be good for me too.