Squidbits

Did I say that the developmental Great Leap Forward happened without an associated Cultural Revolution? I lied. I lied like a rug, because the revolution is here and dear God, we may not survive it.



Developmental whatnot: Ten months old. He's almost a toddler, Lord help us, and it's amazing to see. And exhausting to monitor. I really wasn't ready for this. Or rather, I might have been ready for it had it not coincided with the most vociferous phase of nobody-but-Mama-will-do that we've seen yet. If he's home, and I'm home, there is no remission of the constant whining for Mama, Mama, Mama. By the end of a weekend, my back hurts, my head hurts, and all I want to do is sit in a quiet room by myself and drink a lot, maybe with a good book. I don't know how or why stay at home parents do it.

It's cool, though. I really do mean that. It's fun to be able to take him places in the stroller sitting up big-kid-like, and to watch him enjoy car rides in the new big-kid front-facing carseat. It's great to see him pull out his own toy box, stand up clutching the rim, and methodically empty it of toys (he fell in the other morning, which was pretty funny too, though it occasioned some howls of dismay at the time). It's neat to watch him feed himself (though frustrating, as he would live on Cheerios and bread if left entirely to his own devices) and amazing to watch him focus on what he wants and pursue it, even if that happens to be (as it so often is) the unfortunate blind spaniel, the perils of the stairs, or the knobs on the stereo receiver. I'm just tired, and not as patient with him as I had hoped I'd be.



Probably more tired because there's been no daycare over the holidays and he's been teething like a mad thing, so his sleep and his mood and his eating are all thrown way off. Getting your two front teeth for Christmas is apparently far less desirable than Spike Jonez had led me to believe! They're both through the gums and coming on strong (he bit me the other day - ow) and as Himself said, "at least he won't look like an upside-down rabbit anymore."

Food notes: And just in time, it appears, we have mostly weaned him. Well, perhaps that sentence construction is misleading, because the fact is that he pretty much weaned himself a few months ago. He started refusing the breast more and more often, starting around six months old. I'd been pumping in the mornings, during the day, and in the evenings when I could to try to keep up, but the fact was that my supply was dwindling fast; finally, I just gave up. I had hoped to hold out for longer, but I didn't make this decision, he did.

And honestly? It's awesome not to worry about it. Of course, I can't eat everything in sight with impunity anymore, either, but you pays your money and you takes your pick. My boobs are almost mine again! Hallelujah! At this point he snacks once each morning, and that's it. This morning he refused to do even that much.



State of the mama: Well. That's harder to say. Around mid-November, I tanked hard into a month or so of black, heavy depression. I had trouble leaving the house. I cried all the time. I was listless and useless and miserable. It came out of the blue (after a few months of irritability, but this was different) and sat on my head suffocatingly for weeks. And then, after a visit to a therapist and the decision to go on antidepressants, it mysteriously went away. Overnight. Let me repeat - it went away. I hadn't even started the meds at that point, so it wasn't placebo effect or anything else I could think of. Just, one day I couldn't leave the house and everything made me cry. The next, I was fine. What the hell?! I mean, I'm thrilled, don't get me wrong, but what the hell, too.

This has had some lingering consequences, the primary one being that I went on the meds after all, terrified of a recurrence, and got hit with heavy anxiety as a side effect - paralyzing in an entirely different way. I cracked some fillings (and possibly some teeth, I need to make a dentist appointment) clenching my jaw, couldn't sleep, couldn't stay still, and couldn't accomplish anything because I was literally twitching. Awesome. I finally decided that since I wasn't depressed anymore, I'd take my chances on recurrence, and stopped the meds. Still, between the sickness and the cure, I effectively lost about a month and a half in there, and I've been scrambling to catch up ever since.

Through it all, I tried to be an okay mom, and I think I mostly succeeded, though I am humbled to find myself less patient, less tolerant, and less calm than I once imagined I would be in the face of parenthood. I was aided and abetted heavily in my efforts at decent parenting by Himself taking the Squid to Chicago for five days in mid-December. Going east is more fun with babies - you get to stay up later, instead of rising before the sun - and from all reports, they had a great time seeing friends and going new places. It was great bonding time for them, and allowed me to do some holiday baking, wrapping, cards, and visiting. It would even have allowed for some relaxing, if I hadn't been on the damn meds. Next week it will be six years since I met Himself, and yet I am still realizing each day how lucky I am to have him. He is a wonderful father to the Squid, and seeing them together is one of my greatest joys.



Holiday schtuff: I have to glory in the big present my folks gave us this Christmas. Christmas is a favorite holiday of mine mainly for the caroling and baking and tree and giving, not for the Getting Of Stuff, but this one is going to revolutionize our lives. My folks gave us two (two!) (2!) nights off each month for dates. They'll take the baby (our prime babysitting candidate is still in middle school, and I'd rather give her another half-year or so to mature) twice a month and let us have real adult grown-up time out! The mind boggles.

And we had a great Christmas otherwise - as you can probably see from the photos. We stuffed ourselves silly, and Uncle E and his girlfriend came down in the evening and joined Grandma and Grandpa and the rest of us for a flurry of present-opening. The Squid got more presents per pound than I thought possible, even though we didn't buy him anything - grandparents, friends, and other family are unstoppable! I even let the Squid have a potato chip (bad mama!) and he instantly figured out what the Pringles can looked like and how to open it. Oh, dear.



And now, of course, there is more sugar in our house than normally enters it in the previous eleven months, and stacks of presents to be put away, and a tree to be un-decorated, and ornaments to store for next year. From where I stand now, this tired, replete, unique moment in time, I can't fathom it. But we're racing forward into 2007, the Year Of The Pig, and before I know it, it will be the Squid's one-year birthday, and I will have a new job please please please the right job soon and we will hurtle pell-mell into more new adventures. I look forward to sharing them all with you, and Happy New Year.