Yesterday was Sawyer's 12 month check-up, and I was pretty nervous about it.
The only thing I was worried about was those dreaded percentiles, but as soon as we got in there we were handed a form to answer with all kinds of questions about what Sawyer is and isn't doing. Many of the questions we had never tried... or even thought of trying with him. I suddenly felt like I was being given a pop quiz and was failing miserably.
That only caused my tension to rise.
When the doc finally made his way into the examination room, he shocked the heck out of me. Sawyer now sits firmly at the 55th percentile for weight and the 48th percentile for height. WAHOO! YIPPEE! HALLELUJAH! I told the doctor how shocked I was, and he offered to re-weigh and measure Sawyer. No thank you, I responded. I will take those stats and run gleefully away with them.
He shocked me again when he asked if Sawyer was identifying Michael and me specifically as "mama" and "dada". He's been saying those syllables (along with many others) for months and months now, but neither of us have ever noticed him using those words to refer to us.
Hmm..
the doctor said.
Then he said if it was ok with us, he was going to refer us to have a free speech evaluation done for Sawyer.
huh?
My little boy who literally babbles all the day long and never stops "talking" needs a speech evaluation? really? for realz?
I accepted the offer, though, because it's free and it isn't going to hurt anything. He said they will probably just give us some suggestions for exercises we can do with him.
It is official now, though, that Sawyer does in fact have the most hyper-vigilant doctor in the world... and I'm just fine with that.
Wednesday, December 14, 2011
Monday, December 12, 2011
We Have Arrived
 |
How did we get here? |
 |
| When this is where we started... |
I look back on this year, (yes. it has been a whole year!) and I honestly can't answer that question. I should be an expert... or at least have some sage advice to pass along... but that is not the case.
Don't ask me how to get a baby to sleep through the night, because mine just started doing it all on his very own at a very early age. very early.
Don't ask me how to get a baby comfortable sleeping in his crib after sleeping in a bassinet next to your bed for 6 months, because my little guy made that transition without a hiccup.
Don't ask me how to teach a baby to put himself to sleep, because after much trial and error I cannot tell you what finally worked. In fact, I think he just decided to put himself to sleep in his crib when he was ready and that was a random day after trial and error #12,548,227.
Don't ask me how to transition a baby from breast to bottle or from breast milk to formula because he didn't seem to notice. Don't ask me how to get a baby to be content in his stroller, on long car rides, in a high chair at a restaurant... because these are all things that Sawyer just did.
Don't ask me how to teach a baby to roll over, crawl, cruise, or walk... Sawyer did all of these on his own when he felt like it and not a moment before.
Don't even ask me how to teach a baby to wave, bop to music, or mimic sounds... this guy has recently amazed me by just suddenly doing each of these things with little guidance or urging.
I do not know how we got here to this moment in time where my little baby is an entire year old. All I know is that we are here, we have arrived seemingly unscathed, and I am in awe of the wonder of life that is my little boy.
(and this post is almost a week late as Sawyer's 1st birthday was on December 6. I think he will understand, though, as he is no stranger to being late.)
Sunday, December 11, 2011
Flying the Friendly Skies
Sawyer and I ended up going to Pennsylvania for Thanksgiving alone, afterall. After all of my planning, and fretting, and then assurances that Michael would have the time off... in the end, he did not. So we went alone. I was pretty nervous about this. It was mostly the logisitcs of it all that had me lying eyes wide open all night, the night before the flight.
Thankfully, I had flown two other times with Sawyer (with someone else to help me, mind you), so I was able to mentally prepare myself for every aspect of maneuvering through the airport and airplane with a baby and anticipate any hurdles I might come across. I must pat myself on the back because thanks to my magnificent planning, getting through the airport, security, and on and off planes was no sweat at all.
My only real setback was finding an available handicapped stall that would fit both me and my baby-in-a-stroller. It seems, I have found out, that people who are going to spend a lot of time in a public restroom stall (*ahem. I think you know what I'm saying) tend to choose the handicapped stall in which to do so. In my efforts to be timely, I found myself walking into and out of several different mostly empty bathrooms before finding one with a stall that was availalbe for us to fit in. In the past, I always avoided the handicap stall out of courtesy, and now I am proud of myself for having done so. If you are a handicap stall avoider like me, I thank you. It really is important to the person who can only use that specific stall that it not be needlessly occupied.
These days it has become increasingly apparent to me that I have the best baby in the world. His easy going personality and good humor made my life a million times easier while navigating the joys of public transportation alone with him. I was sweating buckets and feeling quite overwhelmed as it was. I can only imagine how I would have felt had I been traveling with a fussy baby. I think I would have had to chug a bottle of wine after landing had that been the case.
On the plane trip going north, I don't think I had a single person offer to lend me a hand. On the plane trip going south I had someone offering his aid at every turn: going through security, gate checking my stroller, I even had a man sitting next to me on the plane who offered to hold Sawyer several times throughout the flight just to give me a break (since I took him as a "lap infant" this time, and even though he was a perfect angel, he was a squirmy perfect angel and it was a challenge wrangling him at times). The flight attendant even stopped by and gave Sawyer a book. When we landed, as we were heading to baggage claim, an airport worker stopped me and asked if I needed help getting my bags. It was quite awesome. Now, let's pause a moment and I would like you to take note that I said "I had someone offering his help at every turn." Yes. Every single offer of help came from a man. What a shock that was to me as I sat contemplating my trip. Go figure!
All in all, I am proud of myself for braving the friendly skies alone with my baby boy. Despite the fact that he is the best little baby ever born, it was still quite a daunting challenge for me, and I am proud to say I lived to tell the tale.
Thankfully, I had flown two other times with Sawyer (with someone else to help me, mind you), so I was able to mentally prepare myself for every aspect of maneuvering through the airport and airplane with a baby and anticipate any hurdles I might come across. I must pat myself on the back because thanks to my magnificent planning, getting through the airport, security, and on and off planes was no sweat at all.
My only real setback was finding an available handicapped stall that would fit both me and my baby-in-a-stroller. It seems, I have found out, that people who are going to spend a lot of time in a public restroom stall (*ahem. I think you know what I'm saying) tend to choose the handicapped stall in which to do so. In my efforts to be timely, I found myself walking into and out of several different mostly empty bathrooms before finding one with a stall that was availalbe for us to fit in. In the past, I always avoided the handicap stall out of courtesy, and now I am proud of myself for having done so. If you are a handicap stall avoider like me, I thank you. It really is important to the person who can only use that specific stall that it not be needlessly occupied.
These days it has become increasingly apparent to me that I have the best baby in the world. His easy going personality and good humor made my life a million times easier while navigating the joys of public transportation alone with him. I was sweating buckets and feeling quite overwhelmed as it was. I can only imagine how I would have felt had I been traveling with a fussy baby. I think I would have had to chug a bottle of wine after landing had that been the case.
On the plane trip going north, I don't think I had a single person offer to lend me a hand. On the plane trip going south I had someone offering his aid at every turn: going through security, gate checking my stroller, I even had a man sitting next to me on the plane who offered to hold Sawyer several times throughout the flight just to give me a break (since I took him as a "lap infant" this time, and even though he was a perfect angel, he was a squirmy perfect angel and it was a challenge wrangling him at times). The flight attendant even stopped by and gave Sawyer a book. When we landed, as we were heading to baggage claim, an airport worker stopped me and asked if I needed help getting my bags. It was quite awesome. Now, let's pause a moment and I would like you to take note that I said "I had someone offering his help at every turn." Yes. Every single offer of help came from a man. What a shock that was to me as I sat contemplating my trip. Go figure!
All in all, I am proud of myself for braving the friendly skies alone with my baby boy. Despite the fact that he is the best little baby ever born, it was still quite a daunting challenge for me, and I am proud to say I lived to tell the tale.
Monday, November 21, 2011
The other night Sawyer woke up crying after only sleeping for approximately 30 minutes. I went in and picked him up. He looked at me and started babbling. He talked for the next 30 minutes. We sat in the chair in his room and he told me whatever it was that was on his mind. After he got it all out, he began to relax and rest comfortably, so I placed him back in his crib, and he went peacefully back to sleep.
I love that little boy so much. While I'm in no hurry for him to grow up too fast, I do look forward to the days when I will have the opportunity to have conversations with him. He has much to say already, and I just can't wait to understand every word.
I love that little boy so much. While I'm in no hurry for him to grow up too fast, I do look forward to the days when I will have the opportunity to have conversations with him. He has much to say already, and I just can't wait to understand every word.
Monday, November 14, 2011
JT Goes to the Ball
A few months ago, a young female marine put out a youtube video asking Justin Timberlake to the Marine Corps Ball. He, being the incredibly awesome person that he is, accepted. Oh how I wish he had gone to the same ball I did, but alas, he did not. In any case, he did write a little something on his website about his experience at the ball, so I thought I would share the link on my blog.
http://www.justintimberlake.com/news/my_night_at_the_marine_corps_ball
If you're interested in viewing the video that he references, you can find it here: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=I79UW6-NAAU
Every year the Commandant of the Marine Corps puts out video that we watch at the ball. It generally provokes tears and is always greeted with absolute silence and reverence. As Justin notes, it is incredible.
I love that he was so in awe of the ceremony, just as I am every single year. I love that he has so much respect for his military community. I love love love him.
I do, however, need to clear up a few mistakes he made in his writing. First of all, he continually refers to the marines at the ball as soldiers. Marines are not soldiers. Marines are marines. Men and women serving in the army are soldiers. Also, while we're on the topic (though JT did not make this particular mistake) the generic term for everyone in the armed forces is MILITARY not ARMY. So many people I encounter refer to my husband as being in the army when they mean military. Believe me, The Army and the Marine Corps are very different.
Also, marines say, "Ooh Rah" with great stress on the second syllable. The army says "Hooah" or however it is spelled. JT makes reference to marines calling out Hooah at the ball when in fact I am absolutely certain they were saying Ooh Rah. It's their raucous form of agreement. Also heard coming from my husband's mouth when speaking with fellow marines is "YUT" - apparently another common form of marine agreement.
Someday I will write a post called Military Speak Translated. However, this concludes our lesson for today.
Despite the fact that he made a few key vocabulary mistakes, I respect Justin Timberlake very much for taking the time to learn about the very honorable Marine Corps Community.
:)
http://www.justintimberlake.com/news/my_night_at_the_marine_corps_ball
If you're interested in viewing the video that he references, you can find it here: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=I79UW6-NAAU
Every year the Commandant of the Marine Corps puts out video that we watch at the ball. It generally provokes tears and is always greeted with absolute silence and reverence. As Justin notes, it is incredible.
I love that he was so in awe of the ceremony, just as I am every single year. I love that he has so much respect for his military community. I love love love him.
I do, however, need to clear up a few mistakes he made in his writing. First of all, he continually refers to the marines at the ball as soldiers. Marines are not soldiers. Marines are marines. Men and women serving in the army are soldiers. Also, while we're on the topic (though JT did not make this particular mistake) the generic term for everyone in the armed forces is MILITARY not ARMY. So many people I encounter refer to my husband as being in the army when they mean military. Believe me, The Army and the Marine Corps are very different.
Also, marines say, "Ooh Rah" with great stress on the second syllable. The army says "Hooah" or however it is spelled. JT makes reference to marines calling out Hooah at the ball when in fact I am absolutely certain they were saying Ooh Rah. It's their raucous form of agreement. Also heard coming from my husband's mouth when speaking with fellow marines is "YUT" - apparently another common form of marine agreement.
Someday I will write a post called Military Speak Translated. However, this concludes our lesson for today.
Despite the fact that he made a few key vocabulary mistakes, I respect Justin Timberlake very much for taking the time to learn about the very honorable Marine Corps Community.
:)
Friday, November 11, 2011
Saying Goodbye to My 20's
In a few hours, I will officially say goodbye to my 20's.
I don't feel like I'm 30. I don't feel like I look like I'm 30 (I choose not to acknowledge that I get carded less and less these days when purchasing alcohol...). I am, however, going to be 30 in almost exactly 2.5 hours.
Today even though it's a national holiday and all, I checked our mailbox and whatdoyouknow it was full of mail for me. I guess that's what happens when you don't check your mail every day. Then this evening as we were watching Sawyer toddle around our living room in his adorable new pj's that say, "I've been good all year. Just ask mom." We got a knock on the door. It was UPS delivering a present from my good friend in San Diego -- a package with two bottles of my favorite red wine from a Temecula winery, luscious lips.
We cracked open one of the bottles immediately, and I remembered how much I love it and immediately got a craving for thai food and suddenly the decision on what restaurant we will go to for my birthday dinner was decidedly made - the only Thai restaurant in our small South Carolina town. (San Diego was overflowing with excellent Thai food, and it was our go-to cuisine while we were there.)
Then I started thinking about all that has occurred in my life just this last year -- and then all that has happened in the last 10 years. Adventurous life-lesson-packed college years that landed me a fiance. A beautiful wedding. A marriage that took me to Texas, Florida, North Carolina, California, and now South Carolina. 4 years of teaching the most incredible students at the most disfunctional school. 3 long and arduous deployments followed by 3 joyous reunions. A baby boy who makes my heart explode with love every time I lay eyes on him. I couldn't ask for a better 10 years.
Here's to 10 more years of adventures and surprises.
Happy 30th birthday to me.
:)
I don't feel like I'm 30. I don't feel like I look like I'm 30 (I choose not to acknowledge that I get carded less and less these days when purchasing alcohol...). I am, however, going to be 30 in almost exactly 2.5 hours.
Today even though it's a national holiday and all, I checked our mailbox and whatdoyouknow it was full of mail for me. I guess that's what happens when you don't check your mail every day. Then this evening as we were watching Sawyer toddle around our living room in his adorable new pj's that say, "I've been good all year. Just ask mom." We got a knock on the door. It was UPS delivering a present from my good friend in San Diego -- a package with two bottles of my favorite red wine from a Temecula winery, luscious lips.
We cracked open one of the bottles immediately, and I remembered how much I love it and immediately got a craving for thai food and suddenly the decision on what restaurant we will go to for my birthday dinner was decidedly made - the only Thai restaurant in our small South Carolina town. (San Diego was overflowing with excellent Thai food, and it was our go-to cuisine while we were there.)
Then I started thinking about all that has occurred in my life just this last year -- and then all that has happened in the last 10 years. Adventurous life-lesson-packed college years that landed me a fiance. A beautiful wedding. A marriage that took me to Texas, Florida, North Carolina, California, and now South Carolina. 4 years of teaching the most incredible students at the most disfunctional school. 3 long and arduous deployments followed by 3 joyous reunions. A baby boy who makes my heart explode with love every time I lay eyes on him. I couldn't ask for a better 10 years.
Here's to 10 more years of adventures and surprises.
Happy 30th birthday to me.
:)
Thursday, November 10, 2011
I Got This
Lately, I've been feeling kind of like "I got this" when it comes to being a mom. As a reader of this blog, I'm sure you realize, I have not always felt this way.
After failure to thrive, Sawyer's hospital stay, the trip x-country from hell, FLEAS, I was feeling exactly the opposite of "I got this". I was feeling like I didn't get/have anything. I was feeling pretty sorry for myself.
Soon after we arrived here in SC things seemed to get extra hard. Sawyer was eating but every meal was an experiment in how creative I could be to get him to open his mouth for bite after bite. Every diaper change was a wrestling match. Every bed time was a screaming affair. I did not handle it well.
Mike would come home during meal time, and I would say, "YOU TRY. HE WON'T EAT." and angrily stomp away from the table. I would get ANGRY with Sawyer when he wanted to do anything but sit still during a diaper change thus getting poop all over himself and me and the entire process taking 10 minutes instead of 30 seconds. I would feel like my head was going to explode when no matter what I did I just couldn't get Sawyer to go to sleep at night without an hour of screaming! (him, not me, I can understand how you could make the mistake).
I had a serious case of the why me's.
One day Mike and I had an argument. He was frustrated with my attitude. This is what you want, he reminded me. You want to be home with Sawyer. You could work. There's always daycare, but this is your choice.
But it's so hard. Iwhined explained.
I know it's hard. He said. But I bet your mom never acted like you are acting when she was raising you.
hmm.
I am not sure why he chose to throw my mom in there, and it wasn't necesserily the addition of her to the conversation, but rather the introduction of the idea that others have gone before me that got me. Many others. Many with much harder challenges to deal with. Many who did not approach their day with the terrible attitude I had begun to turn to more and more often.
hmm.
These days, diaper changes are still a wrestlig match. Mealtimes continue to be a true test of my patience and creativity. Nothing has changed. Except me. I'm blessed to be able to have my choice and stay home with my little love of my life. I know that. I don't get angry. My head doesn't feel like it's going to explode. I practice deep breaths. Smiles. Firm expressions of disapproval when Sawyer does something he shouldn't. And somewhere along the line bedtime became peaceful put little baby in crib and he will play for 10 minutes until he passes out time.
I got this.
.....
So confident have I been feeling lately, that when motherhood threw a wrench in its plans, I broke. Sawyer got sick last week. For real sick. Fever, lots of crying, lots of sleeping, no eating, lying around quite pathetically all day. My heart broke for the little guy. The only problem was, he would not take his tylenol. He fought the tylenol. He is strong and persistent and good. In the middle of the night one night he awoke crying and a quick check of his temperature told me it had spiked way up again. Tylenol. During the day I had Mike's help. At night, in the dark house, with a screaming baby, I just wanted to get that tylenol in as fast as possible. He fought with all his might. When I finally got that tube inside of his tightly clenched jaw, I accidently squeezed all of the medicine in much too quickly and he choked. and gagged. and screamed. and made noises that no baby should ever ever make. He cried and cried and cried and coughed and hacked. Then he threw up a little phlegm. I held him in my arms apologizing over and over and over again, my heart beating as fast as its ever gone. My eyes brimming with tears. Finally, after several minutes where I thought I might have just killed my child he did one more hack and puked all over me.
Then he smiled and sat contentedly as if nothing had just happened as I shook and cried and told myself over and over that I am the worst mother ever created in the history of the world and apologized over and over to my now perfectly happy little man.
I woke Michael up and explained what happened. I was deathly afraid that the medicine had gone into Sawyer's lungs. Mike wasn't worried and went back to sleep. I was still worried, so I called my mom for extra assurance.
I felt terrible dialing that phone in the middle of the night, waking her up mid-peaceful-slumber, but I knew she wouldn't be mad. I just needed to feel completely confident that my son wasn't slowly drowning in tylenol and that I wasn't, in fact, the most incompetent parent ever.
In the end, all was well. One thing I can guarantee you is that for the rest of my life I will probably be the slowest-tylenol-giver you have ever laid eyes on.
I had almost completely forgotten about that terrible incident until today when I was running around writing this blog post in my head about how I totally have my mommy groove on these days, when I was like, oh yeah. That happened. Last week.
I guess it's all just one big learning experience. I suppose I can expect that won't be my first middle-of-the-night phone call to my mom. It probably won't be the last time I do something completely and utterly clumsy and stupid. There will probably be a few more nights when I will lie awake long after Sawyer is fast asleep hating myself for being such an idiot.
Most of the time, though, I expect days like today. Days when I forget those mess-ups and walk around with my head held high saying to myself, "I got this".
After failure to thrive, Sawyer's hospital stay, the trip x-country from hell, FLEAS, I was feeling exactly the opposite of "I got this". I was feeling like I didn't get/have anything. I was feeling pretty sorry for myself.
Soon after we arrived here in SC things seemed to get extra hard. Sawyer was eating but every meal was an experiment in how creative I could be to get him to open his mouth for bite after bite. Every diaper change was a wrestling match. Every bed time was a screaming affair. I did not handle it well.
Mike would come home during meal time, and I would say, "YOU TRY. HE WON'T EAT." and angrily stomp away from the table. I would get ANGRY with Sawyer when he wanted to do anything but sit still during a diaper change thus getting poop all over himself and me and the entire process taking 10 minutes instead of 30 seconds. I would feel like my head was going to explode when no matter what I did I just couldn't get Sawyer to go to sleep at night without an hour of screaming! (him, not me, I can understand how you could make the mistake).
I had a serious case of the why me's.
One day Mike and I had an argument. He was frustrated with my attitude. This is what you want, he reminded me. You want to be home with Sawyer. You could work. There's always daycare, but this is your choice.
But it's so hard. I
I know it's hard. He said. But I bet your mom never acted like you are acting when she was raising you.
hmm.
I am not sure why he chose to throw my mom in there, and it wasn't necesserily the addition of her to the conversation, but rather the introduction of the idea that others have gone before me that got me. Many others. Many with much harder challenges to deal with. Many who did not approach their day with the terrible attitude I had begun to turn to more and more often.
hmm.
These days, diaper changes are still a wrestlig match. Mealtimes continue to be a true test of my patience and creativity. Nothing has changed. Except me. I'm blessed to be able to have my choice and stay home with my little love of my life. I know that. I don't get angry. My head doesn't feel like it's going to explode. I practice deep breaths. Smiles. Firm expressions of disapproval when Sawyer does something he shouldn't. And somewhere along the line bedtime became peaceful put little baby in crib and he will play for 10 minutes until he passes out time.
I got this.
.....
So confident have I been feeling lately, that when motherhood threw a wrench in its plans, I broke. Sawyer got sick last week. For real sick. Fever, lots of crying, lots of sleeping, no eating, lying around quite pathetically all day. My heart broke for the little guy. The only problem was, he would not take his tylenol. He fought the tylenol. He is strong and persistent and good. In the middle of the night one night he awoke crying and a quick check of his temperature told me it had spiked way up again. Tylenol. During the day I had Mike's help. At night, in the dark house, with a screaming baby, I just wanted to get that tylenol in as fast as possible. He fought with all his might. When I finally got that tube inside of his tightly clenched jaw, I accidently squeezed all of the medicine in much too quickly and he choked. and gagged. and screamed. and made noises that no baby should ever ever make. He cried and cried and cried and coughed and hacked. Then he threw up a little phlegm. I held him in my arms apologizing over and over and over again, my heart beating as fast as its ever gone. My eyes brimming with tears. Finally, after several minutes where I thought I might have just killed my child he did one more hack and puked all over me.
Then he smiled and sat contentedly as if nothing had just happened as I shook and cried and told myself over and over that I am the worst mother ever created in the history of the world and apologized over and over to my now perfectly happy little man.
I woke Michael up and explained what happened. I was deathly afraid that the medicine had gone into Sawyer's lungs. Mike wasn't worried and went back to sleep. I was still worried, so I called my mom for extra assurance.
I felt terrible dialing that phone in the middle of the night, waking her up mid-peaceful-slumber, but I knew she wouldn't be mad. I just needed to feel completely confident that my son wasn't slowly drowning in tylenol and that I wasn't, in fact, the most incompetent parent ever.
In the end, all was well. One thing I can guarantee you is that for the rest of my life I will probably be the slowest-tylenol-giver you have ever laid eyes on.
I had almost completely forgotten about that terrible incident until today when I was running around writing this blog post in my head about how I totally have my mommy groove on these days, when I was like, oh yeah. That happened. Last week.
I guess it's all just one big learning experience. I suppose I can expect that won't be my first middle-of-the-night phone call to my mom. It probably won't be the last time I do something completely and utterly clumsy and stupid. There will probably be a few more nights when I will lie awake long after Sawyer is fast asleep hating myself for being such an idiot.
Most of the time, though, I expect days like today. Days when I forget those mess-ups and walk around with my head held high saying to myself, "I got this".
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