I’ll give you a few clues…
He looks darn cute in a romper.
(Thanks for planting the idea, Sheri – genius – and happy half-birthday to Leo!)
He likes to feed the "amnimals" at the petting zoo. 
He’s mama’s little helper. Always wanting to keep things clean and in order.
He understands the value of celebrating all milestones with chocolate cake.
Happy half-birthday Spence! You’ve officially made it to toddlerhood. Let the fun begin!
Oh, the stories I could tell right now if I were allowed to divulge them. It’s been a CRAZY week at work and I’m so glad it’s over and I wish I could share, but I’m legally bound to keep my mouth shut. It’s left me mentally and physically exhausted.
Uh oh. Another post that quickly becomes about how tired I am. Sorry, I’m so boring. But, I’m tired. I really am. And my weekend is going to be so busy – there’s no relief in sight.
Spencer hasn’t been sleeping well. And the nights he does sleep well, he now wakes up at 6 am. He used to sleep until 7 or 7:30. That’s an hour or more of sleep I am now missing every night. And it’s adding up. In the negative sense.
I would like a day where my only responsibility is to watch movies while eating popcorn and candy. Baby Mama, Smart People, Sarah Marshall- I’d have no problem filling my day. Hmmm. A sick day may be in order next week.
Oh, how I wish I could have a weekend to recover from my weekend right now. 10 hours of driving on Saturday. A bridal shower in Maryland. A baby shower brunch in Brooklyn on Sunday. 2 open houses that got my mind revving. A playdate at the park. And a child who no longer likes to sleep at night.
Individually each of these things (aside from the sleepless nights) was fun and enjoyable. It would just be nice if they spaced themselves out a bit so I could have a few minutes to rest and recover. But, somehow it’s Monday morning again and I must put my work hat back on (well, who am I kidding – I never really took it off) and act professional and get stuff done.
Apologies for the lack of transition here, but I must gush about this house I saw yesterday. It’s a huge old Victorian house, built in 1906. It’s in Brooklyn, so it comes with a few quirks, like the subway running through the backyard (ok, so that’s not such a little quirk). But it was so beautiful in its old, rambling ways. It has 6(!) bedrooms which is totally crazy – what would we do with all that space? But, it costs the same as a 2.5 bedroom apartment in our current neighborhood. There are tradeoffs to be sure – the price discount doesn’t come without concessions. Impractical in so many ways, but for now, I’m going to dream a little dream.
My proclamation of things getting better was a bit premature. The puking continued through Saturday afternoon. But, all those late nights spent huddled on the couch under a blanket, eating applesauce and watching Noggin had an interesting side effect…
Spencer’s First Word
It’s rather embarrassing really. Especially because we try really hard to limit TV time, but it’s something I already felt guilty about. So, I’m hesitant to even share this nugget. But, here it goes:
"Dora"
Clear as day. He pointed to a picture of Dora on the laptop and said her name. Before "mama" or "dada", it’s "Dora". Luckily within hours, he also said "dog" and "thanks". "Thanks" is especially cute – every time we hand him something he says "Danks". Adorable. But, neither changes the fact that Dora came first.
After 4 weeks of hovering within 1 measly pound of my Weight Watchers goal, I did it! At yesterday’s weigh in, the woman mumbled something about 1.2 pounds. I assumed I had gained that weight. I wasn’t even going to go weigh in because I had such a crazy week. There was the bachelorette party with the numerous cocktails and amazing food like French Onion Soup Dumplings, Kobe Beef Sliders, and Homemade Donuts. Then, the sick kiddo which made me stress eat.
But, amazingly, when I sat down and looked at my little scorecard. I had LOST that 1.2 pounds and finally reached my goal. Now, the next step is 6 weeks of maintenance. If I stay within 2 pounds of goal, I become a "lifetime member" and can stop paying them to weigh me.
My instinct is to eat everything in sight right now. Weight loss for me is about 75% mental and 25% physical. Reaching goal is a bit of a letdown mentally. My focus is not so focused anymore and my instinct is still to go back to food as a coping mechanism when I’m stressed, lonely or bored. Weight Watchers can be hokey sometimes and I don’t really enjoy sitting in the meetings, but I do pick up wise little tidbits that help me understand my relationship with food.
Here’s one thing that’s been sticking with me:
If you’re going down a staircase and you trip on one step, you don’t throw yourself down the rest of the staircase. So, why with food, if you eat something you shouldn’t or go off track do you then punish yourself by going further and further off track? Don’t punish yourself. Just pick yourself up and keep moving forward.
Simple, but really effective visualization for me. On Monday I ate a whole bag of chocolate drizzle popcorn that had gotten sent to my office. I knew I shouldn’t eat it. I did it anyhow. And when I finished, I instinctively wanted to sabotage myself. I wanted to go find more bad things to eat. To wallow in my badness and punish myself by eating more junk. It took a lot of willpower to try to just put the episode behind me and eat better for the rest of the day.
So, anyhow, goal = awesome. But, reality = lots of work still to do in the head department.
Since I wrote yesterday, some sleep’s been had. There’s still puke, but with less frequency and velocity. And, the world is looking a bit rosier in many respects, including the news I read in this morning’s paper that 30 Rock comes back on tomorrow!
Between 10pm last night and 8am this morning, Spencer violently threw up every half hour. Beyond the pukey laundry pile and the utter exhaustion that’s taken ahold of me, the whole ordeal really affected me deeply.
We’ve been lucky and have had a relatively healthy first 17 months. We’ve only had one other night of puking and it was nothing compared to last night. Last night was scary and heartbreaking. The sick was so frequent and strong and I couldn’t do anything to help him. He was crying and crying both in pain and in fear. He was trying to hold it down so it wouldn’t hurt and he’d end up choking – his face would turn red and I’d slap his back and my heart would race and my legs would shake and the panic would set in until I heard his cries again. I slept on the floor by his crib so I’d be nearby when he woke up panicked and gagging. It got easier as the night went on and I learned what to expect, but I still couldn’t sleep at all. I had horrible, morbid thoughts racing through my mind about what life would be like if I didn’t have Spencer anymore . In hindsight, it was all an overreaction, but in my defense, there was bloody bile and gasps for air, and it just sent me down a very dark path and I can’t quite shake it in the light of day.
He seems to be doing much better today. Around 9am he perked up and was able to start keeping water down. Now he’s sleeping. And I’m at work. I can’t concentrate at all. I’m questioning the time I spend working and trying to get ahead. Right now, I want to quit my job and move to a farmhouse somewhere and just live a simpler life full of family and love and less work.
I’m watching Enchanted, eating a Weight Watchers sundae, and absolutely totally content on my couch. That’s the kind of day it’s been.
We had our second playdate today and I’m afraid we might not get invited back. Spencer didn’t nap, so I probably should have stayed home. The first 30 minutes were fine while he explored all the new toys. But, then the hitting and screaming started. I think things would be better if he weren’t the oldest. The 4 kids range in age from 14 months to 17 months. While, they’re all about the same physical size, Spencer has the emotional maturity that makes him territorial and and ready to test every boundry. Today he was teasing the kids by offering them a toy then pulling it away when the reached out for it. He does it with us and we laugh, but of course it didn’t go over so well with the younger kids. I guess we need to be more careful about the types of behavior we encourage.
Fighting aside, the cool part about playdates is getting to see where these other families live. Today’s playdate was in a brownstone they own and it was GORGEOUS and I am jealous. I’m glad I had people here before I started to see where they live or I would have been more intimidated to show our modest apartment.
There’s a bachelorette party on tap for me this weekend. It involves 9pm dinner and brunch at noon. A little taste of how life used to be. Though, it’s going to be a struggle to stay up past 11!
As you probably noticed in my last post, things are a little bit frustrating in our household recently. Spencer has reached a point where he knows exactly what he wants. And, I think 90% of the time, I’d be happy to give him whatever he wants. But, I can’t understand what he wants. He’ll point in a general direction, give a few "ooh ooh" noises to get my attention, and then cry (or worse) if I don’t get him what he wants within a few seconds. He’ll point to the dining table and I’ll start picking up item by item…
Flower?
Shakes Head No.
Banana?
Shakes Head No.
Apple?
Considers it for a moment. Shakes Head No.
At this point, I might lift him up to the table so he can more directly point to what he wants since I can’t figure it out. He inevitably gets distracted by something that I’m 90% sure he never saw in the first place — ooh, spoon. I want that.
And it goes on and on and on. I know this isn’t uncommon and the scene takes place in households across the country every second of the day. And I’m trying to be patient. I feel like if he even had 5 words (milk, food, water, cereal, more, etc.), we could alleviate so much of the frustration. I’ve been doing some research on late talkers since the doctor said he should have at least 6 words by 18 months. We have a few weeks to go, but our only word so far is "No". He doesn’t even say "mama" or "dada". And though he understands EVERYTHING we say, without words, he is bound up in frustration.
I’d heard about baby sign language many times, but resisted learning about it because it just seemed like something overachiever moms do with their ivy league bound babies. But, there’s been a lot of research done about the positive effects it can have on language development… So…
Yesterday I bought us some baby sign language books and flashcards. My husband and I picked 9 signs last night to start with and we began using them. Spencer looks at us kind of funny when we act out milking a cow when we say milk, but I’m pretty sure he gets it. He’s old enough that I think he will pick it up pretty quickly. This morning while I was in the bathroom getting ready he made the sign for "More" which I’d used a few times already at that point. I was incredulous that he picked it up so fast, but I went to the kitchen and got him "more" milk which he happily accepted and drank (not always the case!). So, I have hope that the signs might bridge our communication gap until he’s ready to start talking. Fingers crossed! (Hmm. I wonder what fingers crossed is a sign for?)
This and These 