Squidbits
We had two weeks of solo parenting in the middle of the month, when Himself was overseas on business and it was just the two of us here. I sent Himself a picture or two every day, of some squiddy smile or activity, and those are the pictures in this post - just me and the pocket digital again, snapping blurry and badly-composed pictures of the best small person ever.
On sleep: During the two-week solo parenting stretch, of course, his sleep got progressively worse. From Day Twelve of the fifteen days, a snapshot (from an email to a friend):
He started fighting going to sleep at night, and waking up two and three times a night again instead of the usual once or twice. He also decided that waking up at six was a fabulous idea. Which, don't get me wrong, six is fine. But you can't wake up at six and also be an active member of the "Late Bedtimes For Babies" lobby as well as an enthusiastic participant in the Night-time Wakeup Brigade. Pick two. Or, you know, preferably, one.
Of course, the night after his daddy came home, he conked at 9:00 and slept like an angel. I feel...hmmm. Insulted, somehow.
On guilt: Since I started out the two weeks still sick, I didn't have a lot of reserves to draw on. I felt like a crappy parent for a lot of it. It is worth reminding myself, on the days when I am falling down on this whole mama thing, that I love the Squid more than anything in the whole world. I might be impatient or exhausted or scatterbrained or just plain crazy, and I certainly make mistakes, but he will never not be loved, perfectly and absolutely and unconditionally. There will always be one thing I am doing just right.
On growth: The Squid is 25.25 inches long and weighs 16 pounds, 1 ounce. This puts him in the 50th percentile for length (I guess it's not "height" until you stand up, eh?) and head size, and the 75th percentile for weight. His thighs are so plump they get stuck in his high chair. I love to squeeze them. A woman at the airport when we were coming back from vacation said he was "all cheeks and dimples" and that's just about right. The pediatrician says he's healthy and right on track developmentally, though we need to really start trying to help him roll and build muscles for crawling. I know, I know, I said in the last Squid post that I didn't care, but then someone told me that kids who don't crawl are prone (no pun intended) to learning disabilities later in life. Truth? Myth? Who knows, but I'm a little more concerned about making sure he becomes quadripedal before he goes vertical, now.
On eating: He started solid foods (cereal, pears, and sweet potato so far) last week, but it's mostly mess, not sustenance yet. It's so weird to see him have to learn all the things that are so automatic to adults, and weirder still to see how fast he learns. At first, his tongue automatically worked to spit food out, rather than swallow it down, even though I could tell he really wanted to taste it. He dribbled it down his chin and then sucked it off his hands, instead. But three days in, he was lunging at the spoon, snarfing it off so fast it still got everywhere, and then crying when the next spoonful didn't materialize fast enough. Schmutz levels and laundry have increased exponentially, as you might imagine.
This comes along with his new autonomous goal-setting ability. He's decided that he wants to hold his own bottle. If one of us drinks from a water bottle, he will look at it longingly and flail his paws in impotent yearning. So I gave him a "water bottle" of his own, and he tries diligently to hold it. I mean, he really tries - with some serious focus - and when he drops it, he tries again and again. He is determined to do this. And it's nothing we've suggested to him at all. Maybe he saw the other baby at daycare do it? I don't know, but it's neat to see him pursue something independently.
Lastly, we need to find a new word for solid food. Heretofore, all food has been referred to as "snack" - so that now means "boobs," which are different from solid food. (Yes, that's what we call my tits. "Are you looking at the snack? Would you like some?" "I'm sorry, the snack is empty - do you want a bottle?" Breastfeeding is weird in so very many ways, but the fact that my breasts are now, like, Handi-Snaks is probably the part that sums it up most succinctly.) We're going to have to work on our terminology - maybe "food" will be solid foods, "bottle" will be fluids, and "snack" will be nursing. Or something.
On sartorial splendor: In honor of the Squid's birth, I have purchased this T-shirt. I guess this was originally conceived in reaction to an article (which is no longer posted online) about the cephalopod biomass exceeding the human biomass. And the Squid's biomass will someday exceed mine, so yeah, that too. Mostly I just like the way it enthusiastically signals my willing acceptance of my new tiny despot. Welcome, Squid Overlord.
On sleep: During the two-week solo parenting stretch, of course, his sleep got progressively worse. From Day Twelve of the fifteen days, a snapshot (from an email to a friend):
"The baby hasn't stopped crying all day, except for the lousy 45 minutes he took a nap this morning. I am ready to throw him out a window, so I am carefully not touching him and just letting him scream. I figure neglect beats defenestration any day. He won't sleep, he won't eat, he won't stop howling. I am building an altar to all single parents on which to burn incense daily. As soon as I have time, so, like, 20 years down the road."We survived, natch, but it was rough.
He started fighting going to sleep at night, and waking up two and three times a night again instead of the usual once or twice. He also decided that waking up at six was a fabulous idea. Which, don't get me wrong, six is fine. But you can't wake up at six and also be an active member of the "Late Bedtimes For Babies" lobby as well as an enthusiastic participant in the Night-time Wakeup Brigade. Pick two. Or, you know, preferably, one.
Of course, the night after his daddy came home, he conked at 9:00 and slept like an angel. I feel...hmmm. Insulted, somehow.
On guilt: Since I started out the two weeks still sick, I didn't have a lot of reserves to draw on. I felt like a crappy parent for a lot of it. It is worth reminding myself, on the days when I am falling down on this whole mama thing, that I love the Squid more than anything in the whole world. I might be impatient or exhausted or scatterbrained or just plain crazy, and I certainly make mistakes, but he will never not be loved, perfectly and absolutely and unconditionally. There will always be one thing I am doing just right.
On growth: The Squid is 25.25 inches long and weighs 16 pounds, 1 ounce. This puts him in the 50th percentile for length (I guess it's not "height" until you stand up, eh?) and head size, and the 75th percentile for weight. His thighs are so plump they get stuck in his high chair. I love to squeeze them. A woman at the airport when we were coming back from vacation said he was "all cheeks and dimples" and that's just about right. The pediatrician says he's healthy and right on track developmentally, though we need to really start trying to help him roll and build muscles for crawling. I know, I know, I said in the last Squid post that I didn't care, but then someone told me that kids who don't crawl are prone (no pun intended) to learning disabilities later in life. Truth? Myth? Who knows, but I'm a little more concerned about making sure he becomes quadripedal before he goes vertical, now.
On eating: He started solid foods (cereal, pears, and sweet potato so far) last week, but it's mostly mess, not sustenance yet. It's so weird to see him have to learn all the things that are so automatic to adults, and weirder still to see how fast he learns. At first, his tongue automatically worked to spit food out, rather than swallow it down, even though I could tell he really wanted to taste it. He dribbled it down his chin and then sucked it off his hands, instead. But three days in, he was lunging at the spoon, snarfing it off so fast it still got everywhere, and then crying when the next spoonful didn't materialize fast enough. Schmutz levels and laundry have increased exponentially, as you might imagine.
This comes along with his new autonomous goal-setting ability. He's decided that he wants to hold his own bottle. If one of us drinks from a water bottle, he will look at it longingly and flail his paws in impotent yearning. So I gave him a "water bottle" of his own, and he tries diligently to hold it. I mean, he really tries - with some serious focus - and when he drops it, he tries again and again. He is determined to do this. And it's nothing we've suggested to him at all. Maybe he saw the other baby at daycare do it? I don't know, but it's neat to see him pursue something independently.
Lastly, we need to find a new word for solid food. Heretofore, all food has been referred to as "snack" - so that now means "boobs," which are different from solid food. (Yes, that's what we call my tits. "Are you looking at the snack? Would you like some?" "I'm sorry, the snack is empty - do you want a bottle?" Breastfeeding is weird in so very many ways, but the fact that my breasts are now, like, Handi-Snaks is probably the part that sums it up most succinctly.) We're going to have to work on our terminology - maybe "food" will be solid foods, "bottle" will be fluids, and "snack" will be nursing. Or something.
On sartorial splendor: In honor of the Squid's birth, I have purchased this T-shirt. I guess this was originally conceived in reaction to an article (which is no longer posted online) about the cephalopod biomass exceeding the human biomass. And the Squid's biomass will someday exceed mine, so yeah, that too. Mostly I just like the way it enthusiastically signals my willing acceptance of my new tiny despot. Welcome, Squid Overlord.
posted by The Stute Fish at 16:16
2 Comments:
1 - SO. FREAKING. CUTE.
2 - 25 inches is only 50th percentile? It sounds so long. More than TWO FEET! Maybe I'm thinking about girls. Ada was 30 inches at 12 mo, and she was in the 90th % for girls.
3 - I have read that the crawling thing is a myth.
4 - Really - Adorable adorable squid. (and lovely mama)
I bet the crawling thing IS a myth, but now I'm all concerned. *eyeroll* Another way in which my parenting can Ruin My Child Forever. Just what I needed.
Thanks on the Squidcompliments! I am pathetically in love with him, myself.
I just re-checked the growth charts, and 25.25 it is...but a 5-inch difference is a lot. Even in the early fast-growing months, he grew only about an inch a month, so 30" at 12 months is still pretty darn big!
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