I will do it MYSELF!

My son is having a sudden independent streak. He's crawling at full speed, holding his own bottle, saying "Hi" to random women when we go shopping...he's really starting to get a personality. And it's a big one.

But my favorite part of his independence is this:

Today's lesson: Learning is a messy business. Though I probably could have chosen food that wouldn't stain...guess I learned something, too!

The making of a perfect family photo

The women in my family have been obsessed with their mortality as of late. This led my mother to organize an impromptu four generation family photo session in my living room. My house is poorly lit. There were screams about bad hair, no makeup and someone's death bed. And judging from our last effort at a family photo, I knew it would be a challenge.

Our last generations photo resulted in the photographer breaking her camera and us running wild with my aunt's point and shoot and the studio's backdrops.

And props.

So this photo was important. Four generations. All the women and my son. So I set up the tripod, adjusted my camera, and gave it a test shot.

Oh dear. But the light is as good as it's going to get in my house, so I decided to go for it. I set the timer and made a run for it.

Well, that went well. How about another shot?

Oh, great. I'm going to need the flash to catch that wiggly little man.

Oh, that's even worse.

"Honey, come hold the button down and let's see what happens!"

"Son, hold still!"

Almost...one more try...

And we got it!

Today's lesson: The best memories do not always lie in your best photographs. Sometimes it's worth taking a look at the in between shots to really appreciate the moments captured.

Sick

As a parent, there are few experiences more trying and difficult than your kid getting sick. We have been extremely lucky, because other than a few short lived tiny fevers that disappeared the second I showed up with the Tylenol, Sam has been healthy.

Last week, I took Sam to the pediatrician for his well-baby appointment. He weighed in at 20 pounds, and was 28 inches tall. He got his vaccines and was fine and happy for two days. Then it happened. To put it nicely, Sam had some, uh, "gastrointestinal issues." I've heard other parents talk about the doctor's office being a cesspool, but I never imagined it would be this true.

Two days into his illness, I called the pediatrician's evening number in a panic. Winston was screaming and refusing food. The doctor on call, who wasn't Sam's doctor, made me feel reassured that I was a good mom, that we were doing a great job keeping him hydrated and comfortable, and that, once again, I should throw my parenting books out the window. This made me laugh, because our regular pediatrician recommended the book.

Another two days went by, and I took Sam in to his doctor. She checked him over, confirmed that it wasn't a vaccine reaction, and sent us home to wait it out.

Oh the misery. It was another two days before his illness started to disappear. He was tired. We were tired. Nanny was tired after an hour with him. When she came, I answered the door and said, "Welcome to hell." There were days filled with screaming, baking soda baths, a formula switch, and pedialyte, which Sam does not like.


He's fine now, thanks to soy formula, carrots, and time. But I think this entire household is traumatized. Especially since I ended up sick after our second doctor's visit. Cesspool, I tell ya.



Today's lesson: It is possible to be annoyed by your sick child, and that's ok. It's also ok to rock your screaming baby and cry along with him. And to lie on the floor and nap with your kid. And to run Baby Einstein non-stop for five days because it's the only thing that makes your sick child happy.

Charmer

My son is a very serious boy.

It usually takes some pretty determined tickling for me to get a smile or a laugh out of him.

Apparently, I'm just not his type.

My husband takes Sam with him to Costco whenever he goes, and this past circular had a good coupon for diapers. So off the men go to do the heavy duty diaper shopping. They come home, and Jere shows me that he has another diaper coupon. My son decided to flirt with the lady behind them in line, smiling at her with all the suaveness a 6 month old can muster, and she handed over her extra diaper coupon all aflutter.

Of course, when he comes home, he looks at me like this:

Normally, I would chalk this up to coincidence. A nice woman who obviously didn't need the diaper coupon just happened to notice that my husband obviously does. So the men went out again this past weekend to buy some more diapers using the nice woman's coupon. And when they arrived home, my husband had yet another diaper coupon in his possession.

My kid had flirted with another unsuspecting woman. I feel betrayed. I feel envious. But I can't blame these poor ladies. Who could resist this heavenly smile?

Of course, if his smile ever fails him, he can just show them his cute butt.

Today's lesson: Beware a man with a charming smile. They usually have an ulterior motive. In my son's case, you'd better lock up your coupons.

The face of guilt

We left our son. For a whole week. We knew we had reached the end of our sanity. Every marriage needs nurturing. And between the dirty diapers and the spit up and the passing one another in the kitchen with a mumble while we get breakfast ready for the kiddo. So we handed off Sam to my mother and hopped a plane to Seattle, where we boarded a ship on its way to Alaska.

We drank (well, I drank).

We sang at the piano bar.

We ate so much that I was squeezing into my formal dresses by the end of the week.

A good time was being had. The glaciers, the cold wind, the 19 hours of sunshine that we blocked out with the blackout curtains so we could sleep at any time of the day, it was fantastic. We were having a lovely time.

Except for the face of guilt that followed us around all day. Jere's watch broke, so we carried my cell phone to tell the time, and there was our son on the front screen every single time we opened it up. We were told by everyone that we would be miserable without him. That we would worry. That we would miss him. But you know what? It wasn't that bad. We had a great time reconnecting with one another without a screaming, puking little person between us. We (and he) did just fine. No worse for the wear...except for that pesky guilt thing.

That is, until we got home. I'm convinced that the second we walked out the door, Winston decided to somehow accelerate his growth. He didn't even look the same! He was doing things and making sounds we'd never experienced. My husband even said, "I don't think this is our son. This can't be our son." Because no way could our son have grown up that much in a week.

Uh, Mom? Did you bring the wrong baby home from the mall?

Today's lesson: If you ever doubt how fast time flies when you have a child, leave for a week. You'll get a whole new perspective of what can happen in seven short days.

Devil Mom

I've been frequenting a message board since I got pregnant with Sam. The members all got pregnant at the same time, gave birth around the same time, and now all of our kids are around 5 months old. There are good and bad things about sharing with so many women with so many varying opinions on the right way to raise a child. While it's great that we're all seeing the same milestones at the same time and having similar difficulties, sometimes you get mixed messages on what is the "right way" to raise a child. And if I judged myself solely by the opinions of other moms, I'd have no self-esteem at all. There are so many decisions to be made about what kind of diapers to use, what's best for feeding, what cleaning products are safest, and what the best way is to entertain baby. And sometimes, thanks to the perfectly valid opinions of other moms, my decisions leave me with doubts about my judgment.

(My mom, who hasn't questioned a single one of my parenting decisions, except when it comes to putting Sam in silly hats. Thanks, mom!)

I feel like that all the time. Except probably more, because I'm the anti-organic. I'm one of those devil moms who could have at least pumped breastmilk (Sam couldn't latch), but hated doing it so I quit. I feed him *gasp* soy formula! I sit my son in front of the TV so I can get laundry done. Cloth diapering was a blip on my radar, and I not only considered it, but actually bought some cloth diapers. Now I rejoice in the joy of being able to toss the Huggies in the Diaper Genie. I swear in front of my kid. Neither his food nor his clothes are organic. I started him on solid foods at four months to the day. I let him lick donut frosting off my fingers. I am addicted to lysol wipes. I don't do playgroups. I read to him from my textbooks and sit him with me while I'm watching my lectures online. I take him out shopping for hours at a time and hold up shoes and ask him, "What do you think of these?" In fact, the little diva boy has his own closet full of shoes as well. And when 5:00 comes, and my husband walks in the door, I hand him our son and walk away without a second thought. And I leave them be until I can unwind.

(Solid foods at four months. Try telling my kid he can't have sweet potatoes. He'd fall into a deep depression.)

So, moms, don't ever feel bad. Because here is the important thing: no matter what you do or do not do when it comes to raising your kids, loving them is what counts. I hear all the time how terrible I am for all of the above offenses, but that little boy is my world. We all go through so many changes when we become parents. We become different people. Our marriages/relationships change. In my case, even my car changed LOL. If we ask too much change of ourselves, who are we in the end? Our kids are supposed to add to our lives, not take away from them. It is entirely possible to compromise and find a middle ground.

(He does like formulas. Both soy and Pythagorean.)

If I spent every diaper change preoccupied by the guilt over what kind of diapers I use, I'd miss the fact that my kid giggles uncontrollably when I tell him what a mess he is. If I drove to the Whole Foods, I'd lose 45 minutes in each direction of playtime with him (not to mention I'd put him in danger, because our Whole Foods is in an area with heavy and violent traffic). If I selfishly took care of Sam after my husband got home from work, thinking I could do it better or more efficiently, I'd miss hearing the two of them giggling about goodness knows what in the other room. If I was still trying to pump for him, I would be distracted by the frustration I felt, so instead I give him a bottle of "rat poison" and enjoy the time we spend bonding (yes, it is still bonding even with a bottle).

(I don't care how his dad entertains him if it means I get to shower in peace.)

All moms prioritize differently. And that's not wrong. That's what's right for their life. They have thought through their choices, and made decisions based on the fact that they love their kids. Are organic foods important to me? No, but I love to hear about when my friends go to the farmer's market or Whole Foods and find wonderful things. Is it a priority in my home that we use only organic clothes, bedding, or cleaning products? No, but I am more than happy to encourage my friends when they're trying out some new recipe for a natural toilet bowl cleaner. My priorities are different. My family is different. I try not to keep friends who don't demonstrate that mutual respect.

(My best friend Rachel's son. Because it's important to have mom friends who are crazy, opinionated, wonderfully accepting and encouraging, and just as addicted to Starbucks as you are.)

I will never understand why, as moms, we are so judgmental of one another. And I will NEVER EVER understand the moms who actually SAY something. I might be thinking in my head, "Hey, that's a little crazy." But it's not my life, it's not my kid, and far be it from me to criticize as long as it doesn't involve dangling them from a rooftop by their big toe. I want my friends to be happy mothers, no matter what that means for them: stay at home, have a career, go to school, coach a sport, breastfeed, bottle feed, cloth diaper, whatever. And putting people down for their well-reasoned choices? That just makes them feel terrible. I know it makes me feel terrible when people say things to me. But it doesn't change me, either.

(Sarcastic moms, unite!)

Today's lesson: Just keep on doing what's right for your family. Love your kids. Make educated decisions, and then accept them without guilt or regret. And don't let anyone else tell you they could do it better. You're the mother of your kids. No one can be a better mom to them than you are.

Four months, three shots, two kicking feet, and one hand always in the mouth.

My sweet four month old son is sleeping. I get to call him sweet now, because he isn't driving me quite as insane. He sleeps through the majority of the night, and takes three naps a day. Most of the time, he goes down without a fight. He seems to realize that once he is in his crib, he gets to sleep. He likes sleep.

What is Mr. Churchill up to this month? Well, we started feeding him food from a spoon. He likes the rice cereal, but he has to have his bottle first, otherwise he gets too hungry and impatient. This morning I gave him some oatmeal cereal, and he grabbed the spoon in his impatience, threw it across the room, and started to chew on the bowl. I dread the day he realizes where the food is well enough to find it with his fingers.

Speaking of fingers, he's got those in his mouth all the time now. He's learned how to pick things up, like his favorite rattle. His fingers, no matter what is in them, take the same route, straight to his mouth, everytime.

Winston is full of smiles and laughs. He used to only laugh at his daddy, but I've been graced with a few giggles in the past couple of days. He has a precious smile, and it makes me melt when his little face lights up!

This month saw the purchase of the mommy-mobile (which I love), the mommy-haircut, and a mommy-sized video camera. Handy for catching those moments that need more than a photograph!

http://smg.photobucket.com/albums/v480/physics_angel/?action=view&current=VID00003.mp4

Today's lesson: It's sad to watch him grow. But hilarious to watch him eat. :-) It's even more hilarious to watch his daddy make a goof of himself to get a giggle out of Sam.