Infant II

Beckett is moving up to the Infant II class at his daycare on Monday. This means new teachers, new kids, new toys, new room, new schedule, new everything. When I spoke to the director about Beckett moving up, I was giddy and excited. I called Jim immediately after, and we exclaimed and crowed about our big boy. On Friday, when I walked into the Infant I class to pick him up, his teacher told me that he was next door. "Oh!", I said. "How exciting!" So she walked me over to the new class, opened the door, and there he was, sitting on the floor with the rest of the big kids - some who are walking - and instead of being thrilled, I was a little sad.

The one thing that has made this entire parental transition easier is the incredible quality of care that he receives at daycare. Neither Jim nor I have the option to stay home, so we knew from the beginning that we were going to need to find a full-time daycare center. We started looking when I was just starting my second trimester, following the (great) advice of a friend that we should start looking early, not only to ensure that he got a spot in the best place, but because you're still pretty detached and objective. We looked at four centers, all in Brookline and for the most part, all excellent. But there was something about LCSh that made the decision easy, and we put our deposit on a spot a little more than a month before Beckett was born.

He started daycare when he was just shy of three months, and the lead-up to leaving him was fraught with anxiety. I read the parent handbook three times and spent weeks labeling his clothes, bottles, and pacifiers, getting his supplies (lunchbox, blanket, etc) organized and ready for 'school'. I dropped him off on August 2, the same day I started back at work, and was surprised by how fine I was when I left. I knew in my heart that he would be okay, wonderful in fact, in the care of the two teachers and in the company of six other babies. He would make friends, enjoy the weekly traveling musician and daily walks to the park down the street. In the six months since he started dacyare, I have never had a single moment of irritation, anxiety, or worry.

If anything, putting him in daycare has made me feel ever so slightly insecure about my own parenting instincts. One the first cold-ish day this past fall, I noticed that on the line up of hooks, each of which is assigned to a baby, Beckett's was the only one that didn't have a heavy fleece or down onesie hanging off of it for their daily walks. His thin little sweatshirt stood out pitifully from the group. I give myself credit for noticing before I was told (that afternoon) that I should bring in something warmer for him the next day. But I did spend most of the day feeling guilty, and most of that evening squeezing my way through the aisles of the second-hand clothing store for something appropriate.

This is one example of many tiny missteps, but I appreciate the tactful way that the teachers remind me about things, and the fact that they take the time to work with me to provide the best care for Beckett. I know that Beckett will miss his (now three) teachers, but I will miss them as well. Having the end of the day wrap-up conversation with a new teacher on Friday, I felt a little out of sorts. He didn't drink much of his bottle? He cried a little bit when he came to the new room? Did he eat his snack? Huh? What? Who? Where is Rosa?! I want my Rosa!!!! I left my purse on the floor (as I always do when I pick him up), turned around for three minutes and one of the walkers managed to empty its contents onto the floor. The sharpie marker that fell out of it suddenly looked like a gun, and I realized how woefully unprepared I am for this transition. When I was leaving with Beckett, I swung the door out quickly, nearly knocking out one of the other crawling babies (who I guess was in the process of making a break for it). As we were leaving, I was told (tactfully and sweetly of course) that all babies in Infant II were required to wear shoes. Okay, shoes I can do. But what kind of shoes?

We both have a lot to learn. It won't be pretty, but it will be exciting.

Five Days

February has been a big month for our family. Jim and I went on a magical vacation to Venice, a trip we have planned since before I was even pregnant with Beckett. It was an incredible, whirlwind five days, but by the end of it my entire body ached to see my baby. It was hard to leave him but I think that it was a good test for all of us. Beckett was no worse for wear, and actually seemed tragically (for me at least) unaffected by the entire experience. He settled into his routine a mile away at my parents' house without batting an eyelash. I know this because after making free wi-fi a criteria for our Venetian apartment search, we lugged our computer to Europe and tried out Skype for the first time. It's fabulous! How did parents travel without their children before the internet? He had no idea what was going on but we got to coo and squeal and just look at him for fifteen minutes a day, which was enough to settle this mom's fears that he wasn't somehow forever traumatized by my disappearance.

I did have my moments. I'd prefer not to admit that I had a crying jag at the end of our first evening, after attending an extraordinary carnevale party at a private palazzo on the grand canal. I felt bad for having such a good time, guilty for being happy when he was so far away. I fought back tears when he banged his head on the coffee table while we skyped, and I could hear his heartbreaking sobs but couldn't be there to make him feel better. The last day was tough, and I have to admit to shedding a few tears over insalata caprese and marinated anchovies (delicious!) while my lunch companions tried not to notice.

But eventually we came home and rushed off the plane and scurried over to his daycare and flew in the door with huge silly grins on our faces. He looked at us with an expression that said something between "Hey! I forgot about you guys!" and "Are you expecting me to do something?" When I picked him up, he reached for the teacher, which broke my heart just a little bit but I deserved it for abandoning him so oh well.

The part that really amazed me was how much Beckett changed in just a few days. He went from a boy that wormed his way across a room to one that was pulling up on everything in sight. The only word for him right now is  BUSY. He went from saying a few little 'da da da's' to babbling non-stop in an almost conversation-like way. With actual pauses for comment. A friend let us borrow an activity table and Beckett sort of liked it from afar when we left. When we came back he crawled (not worming mind you, actual crawling) to the table, put his hands on it, got on his knees, and pulled up to a standing position. !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

He has also decided that he prefers not to eat anything he can't feed himself, which at this point is almost anything. And although his dexterity and 'pincer grasp' is, I think, pretty stellar, it would take him four hours to eat enough to make him full. So we've resorted to meals every couple of hours to keep him well-fed.

He actually just prefers to feed us and clamp his mouth shut when we try to feed him. I assume this is a phase so I'm trying not to panic. 

The highlight of the past weekend was Beckett's first real trip to the park. It was a whopping 40 degrees in Brookline on Sunday so we ventured out to find a bucket swing. Beckett was none to happy to be strapped into his stroller and yonked down the street in weather that was sunny but didn't exactly feel like 40 degrees. I warmed him up on the regular swing with me and when we plonked him into the bucket swing he smiled, albeit begrudgingly. 

 

It was an amazing day and a wonderful way to spend our first weekend back. Venice was incredible in ways I cannot even describe, but there is something almost more magical about seeing this when you wake up in the morning.

Shameful

Okay. I know. My absence has been shameful. I could say that I've been busy, with Beckett, with work, with the horrible, terrible thing that is winter in New England. But it would all be bullshit. The reality is that I've spend most of my free time googling "cheap emerald necklaces" and "finger food for babies+8 months".

Also, so much has happened since the last post, that it seems too overwhelming to even talk about. Jim keeps saying 'he really changed after Halloween'. He's right. Beckett has become a real person in ways that I never expected, and in ways that continue to delight both Jim and me daily. I'm sure that he's no different than any other 8 month (and two weeks!) old baby, and certainly no less interesting to his parents. But the 'firsts' of the last two months have been so fast and furious that it seems impossible to keep up.

So I choose not to keep up, and instead busy myself with posting video after video on Facebook or YouTube. That's enough right?

No! It's not enough. I can't even bring myself to read the first post of this pseudo-blog because I know that I made a promise to myself, and most importantly to Beckett, that I would chronicle the first year of his life. So much for that.

So in an attempt to summarize the last two months of (exponential) growth, here you go.

Beckett has produced his first FOUR teeth. We have two on 'film' (but I can't find the picture) and two we do not (because they are tiny little nubbin teeth that I have only been able to feel, not see). However, I will say that the best teething toy, if he doesn't break it, is an emptied bottle of beer straight from the fridge. Cold, hard, and great for an inapropriate photo-op.

I swear that it was empty. 

Beckett has learned to talk a bit. Not actual words, but some sounds like "da da da da" and "grrrrrrr". As you can probably imagine, his father just LOVES that da da came first and that he hasn't seemed willing (or in my opinion, able) to make the word 'ma ma'. Na na na has started, which is clearly the precursor to "NO!". Awesome!

There have been lots of milestones. He went from lying on his belly, to pulling his legs up, to rocking back and forth, to pulling his butt up in the air in a position most resembling 'downward facing dog', to doing 'the worm', to actually and legitimately (although not gracefully) crawling. He did that last night before bed, and then proceeded to wake up every couple of hours to practice. 

He started eating real food. Not mushy peas or strained chicken (SO GROSS) but cheerios and puffs and tonight, actual tiny pieces of venison chili, which he absolutely loved. Here he is eating eggs for the first time, and loved every minute of it. 

Who doesn't love scrambled eggs? I confess that I ate what he did not (something I will not do with the pureed and cold country chicken and vegetables).

He rocks and claps and sings, jumps with joy in his jumperoo, and generally acts like a happy, blissed out baby. And he is still such a complete and utter joy. We won't go into what an amazing (and good) baby he is - we don't want to be those parents. But we're seriously awesome in this little neck of Boston. I wish we could get out more and that the snow would go somewhere else, but those are all forced complaints. Life is good.

Jim and I leave for a trip to Venice (Italy, not California) in two weeks. Our friend Kate has decided to tag along. We are not bringing Beckett, but leaving him to his comfortable routine with his grandparents, who will no doubt spoil him rotten and feed him chocolate pudding. We'll miss him, of course. But it will also be great to go away and focus on each other in a place that seemed made for love. 

So I probably won't post until we get back. Maybe we'll put Beckett in one of our carnevale masks and post a picture. Stay tuned.

Thanks

I planned a big post for Halloween. I even took pictures of Beckett in his costume specifically with this blog in mind. But as you can see, the post never happened. You know what did? Life, work, and the annual art sale. I have run this sale for six years, and I still emerge from the haze and stress at the end of November, rub my eyes, look at a calendar and say 'sweet jesus, it's Thanksgiving!?'. Every single year.

So I'll post a picture of Beckett in his Halloween costume - a caterpillar (which he hated) - and get to the real topic of today's post, which is giving thanks.

Beckett did fine on the costume dry run we had done a few weeks earlier. However, after a day in the city and a pathetic excuse for an afternoon nap, he lasted thirty seconds and cried so pitifully that we had to take it off. Poor little guy. Oh, and I have a bone to pick with our neighborhood. I thought that moving to Brookline would mean hoards of cute little trick-or-treaters and lots of candy-giving. Indeed it does not. We had one sad little infant in a dragon costume with a drunk mother. Oy. I had even done research about which was the most coveted Halloween candy (gummy anything) so if you like sour gummy worms, let me know. We have bags of them.

So fast-forward three huge developmental weeks and we're at Thanksgiving. Since Halloween Beckett has learned to sit up on his own, is pushing backwards on his belly, and started eating vegetables. Well, he's not exactly eating them. It's more like screaming, gagging, screwing up his lips, and grabbing furiously for the spoon before I force any more into his mouth. So far neither sweet potatoes or green beans are a big hit but I refuse to allow my child to be a picky eater. So we will continue to offer it and hopefully one day, he will just eat it. Because dammit, sweet potatoes are good!

He has also developed a deep affection for his little rubber giraffe, Sophie. He absolutely loves Sophie, and spends many contented hours chomping happily on her legs. And as he grows, so do the toys. He no longer wants to lay in his baby gym, but instead would rather sit and play with toys placed in front of him. So we took the bars of the gym and set up a little play space for him in the kitchen. Sadly, almost all of the pictures taken of him in the last two weeks are of him in this exact spot, with different outfits on. I really should vary it up a bit.

Despite not having a single day off since Halloween, I boldly offered to host Thanksgiving, with the understanding that my mother would do most of the cooking off-site, and that I would provide the turkey and a table. I was also really excited about having Beckett's first Thanksgiving in our new home, with our fireplace roaring in the backround. In my mind, the fire was the most important element, and I sit in front of it still as I type. I really really love this fireplace.


Jim's parents came over, as did one of his climbing buddies. Beckett's highchair was pulled up to the table, and we sat around eating delicious food, feeling thankful, and mostly just watching Beckett. That kid can draw a crowd, and he's really starting to understand it. He finally, finally! smiled wide for the camera, which he never, ever does.

I really love Thanksgiving. What can possibly be bad about a holiday centered around food, family, and feeling grateful? I've written about it before and I will say it again. I feel so grateful that I could burst. We have a beautiful, healthy, happy, hilarious, sweet son. I have a husband who sent me to the movies while he cleaned the house on Wednesday. I have parents who are supportive, interesting, and for whom I have not only love but genuine affection and the utmost respect. In a really tough economy, both Jim and I have good jobs. We live in a place that sometimes feels like heaven for its beauty and ease of lifestyle. We have a cadre of friends who truly make up the fabric of our family.

Nothing will put it all in perspective like a baby. Our wonderful life isn't just Jim's and mine. It's Beckett's too, and that makes all of this wonderfulness so much more important. I just hope that it doesn't take him having his own child to recognized it, and that he grows up to be a grateful, appreciative, and thankful person.

Happy Thanksgiving.

Wonderful World

It is officially, unequivocally, one hundred percent fall in Boston. Everywhere I look the trees absolutely blaze with color, and the crunch of leaves beneath our feet is constant and satisfying. We can fight it or we can accept it, and I've chosen to accept it. It makes it easier when you live in a beautiful place like Brookline and you have a fireplace. Roaring fires make winter seem pretty okay.

This is our first fall in Brookline. Last year at this time I was in the sick-as-a-dog part of my pregnancy and we had just found a beautiful little condo on the hill above Washington Square. We were considering a move but in no way ready to make a commitment. A few weeks later, when Jim was in California, the real estate agent called to say that they were pretty sure they'd have an offer by the end of the week. Trying to find Jim in the canyons of California wasn't easy and there was definitely moments of panic. But we did it. We bought our dream house in Brookline and finally, after seven years of weak, barren, grey autumns, we moved to Brookline and got this.

Wow. How lucky are we to live here? I think that exact thing almost every single day.

It took me three times longer than usual to walk Beckett to daycare yesterday because I kept stopping to take pictures. He looked especially cute in the new coat Grams bought him, and the hat that we love but that keeps disappearing and reappearing on the sidewalk, in the backyard, car, and most strangely, the bathroom. It is currently missing and I have a sad feeling that it's gone for good.

We're all bundled up here and preparing to hibernate, but that doesn't mean that things are calm in the Day house. We are so completely busy that it's hard to stay on top of even the most basic things. If I could add another five or six hours to each day, I honestly would. I thought yesterday that if I could just stay up later than 10:00 pm, I could update this blog, or maybe read one of my six back issues of the New Yorker. I really wish that were a monthly magazine. Every time I blink, there's a new one sitting in my mailbox.


But the big news this week is that we started Beckett on solid food. Hooray! I have been anticipating and dreading this moment since Beckett was born. I have always been a neat eater, so I get a little grossed out by the messy, food-in-the-hair, chewed-up-bits-of-meat-mixed-with-saliva eating that is inevitable with small children. I also have to admit that I'm not really psyched about the changes that will come in the diaper arena either. And although Jim and I would never consider ourselves food people, we do like to eat good food in the company of our friends and family. It is an important part of our family philosophy, and I am eager to make Beckett a part of this. So on Sunday night, we pulled out the new highchair, plopped Beckett in it, mixed up some organic brown rice cereal with a little milk and fed it to him.

After a seriously confused face and a little bit of practice, we finally got it down. He started rocking back and forth with his mouth hanging open, grunting and cooing. More, mama. More!

That night he slept like somebody with a belly full of goodness, for nearly 12 hours. We plan to stick with the rice cereal for the next couple of weeks, and start introducing veggies just in time for Thanksgiving.

Ah..................

As you can imagine, we have about 2345 pictures of the first solid food experience (and at least one video). I still haven't figured out the Flickr thing, but I swear that it's on my (long) list of things to do. We have a big weekend coming up, with thirtieth birthdays to celebrate, first Halloweens to enjoy, a baptism, and the first real party at our home. More on that next week!

Generations

Columbus Day weekend was a big one for the Crum clan. Beckett and I drove down to Newport News, Virginia with my parents on Thursday night for the wedding of my second cousin. Although we have done a couple of drives to New York and back, this was Beckett's first official road trip. Although he slept through most of it, I spent most of the drive thinking about all the trips my family made down to this part of the country - at least twice a year - to visit my grandparents. The trip seemed longer back then, and were almost always fraught with epic fights over backseat territory lines and who had control of the radio station (the answer was my parents, who almost always opted for NPR or the baseball game). This time the ten hour drive passed by without incident, and the long lonely stretch of the eastern shore was more contemplative than deadly boring.

Almost my entire extended family lives in southeastern Virginia or southern Alabama. We took Beckett to Alabama when he was just six weeks old, so he met a good part of his family over the summer. This weekend's trip was part two of the Beckett-meets-the- Crum/Roane family saga, and more important in one way - he got to meet his great-grandmother.

My father's mother, Grandma, passed away just before Beckett was born. And my paternal grandfather, Grandpa, over Christmas the year before. Until two years ago, I was lucky to have three living grandparents, who despite not having seen as frequently as I would have liked, were an important part of my family life. Now I only have one grandmother, Granny, who lives in a retirement community in Newport News. We took Beckett to see her every day that we were there, and as you can see from the picture, it was love at first sight for both of them.

We also spent some quality time with my closest cousin and his wife, who are expecting their first child in January. Matthew and I are more like siblings than cousins (remember that comment about epic battles? We have a few stories of our own) and of course I have grand visions that his son and mine will be fast friends. We are eagerly awaiting this little one's arrival.

But since this is a blog about firsts, and Beckett's in particular, I should mention all the amazing things that Beckett did this weekend. Even though it wasn't his first car trip, plane trip (although he was awake for this one), or wedding (Jim's brother got married in August), it was Beckett's first time in a church. We discovered that he truly hates organ music, which he demonstrated with piteous sobs every time the organist would begin to pound out a tune. Subsequently, his first time in a church was pretty short-lived, and we spent the majority of the ceremony in the car singing 'itsy bitsy spider'. Um, can we talk about the weird hypnotic powers of that song? It stops Beckett in his tracks. I still haven't figured out what we're going to do about his Christening other than to bring earplugs.

Since he spent the entirety of his uncle's wedding reception fast asleep in his carseat, this would qualify as Beckett's first dance with his Grams and the first time he ever witnessed the chicken dance. He also learned how to sit up this weekend, and to say the letter 'G'. He laughs more than he did last week, and looks at us all with more intelligence and wisdom than I can fathom.

Although it was 90 degrees in Virginia on Friday, we came home on Sunday to a cooler Boston. The leaves are brighter and the air has that perpetual fall smell of wood smoke. I finally broke down and turned on the heat, because it was 62 degrees in the house this morning. There is a tenderness to this time of year, and although I feel a little sad for the coming winter, I force myself to get excited about the little things - like seeing Beckett in his winter hat, which is just too cute for words.

Fall Back

It was 33 degrees in Brookline this morning, and it's still only September. After having one of the most miserable, wet, and cool summers on record, I can't say that I'm completely ready for this. I really do love living in a place that has seasons, but I have to say that a pretty hot summer makes the shift to brisk, crisp mornings that much more welcome. I don't really feel like we had a summer at all, so part of me is anticipating the long, cold, Boston winter with some serious dread.

However, this will be Beckett's first fall, and the first in our new home. And because he has become so alert and observant, I really enjoy watching him experience it. On our way to daycare last week, Beckett gazed out the car window at the changing leaves, his blue eyes (although they're turning more green every day) peeking solemnly out of the hood of his brown sweatshirt. I am excited to go apple picking, and I want to can some homemade apple sauce for November, when Beckett will start eating solid food. There is much to look forward to with this beautiful and bittersweet time of year.

For a kid who refused to go to sleep while there was a shred of light in the sky, Beckett has taken to his new earlier bedtime like a champ. Subsequently, his recent 4 am wake times have been a little tough. Lately, we've been pulling him into bed with us for the last hour or two, snuggling and dozing together. Our bedrooms are in the basement level of our condo, and the space has become noticably cooler and more dry. We'll need to pull out the sleep sacks again for Beckett, who now squirms up to the top left corner of his crib every night to wedge himself into the warmth and comfort of the bumper. Apparently the bumper on the bottom right, bottom left, and top right are just not nearly as comfortable. No matter where you put him down in the crib, you will always find him in the top left corner come morning. Weird, right?

Jim celebrated a birthday last week (I won't say which), and he got a card from Beckett in the mail, sent by his daycare providers. It was decorated with a rainbow of little foot prints, and said "Happy Birthday, Daddy. I love you! Your son, Beckett".

Sigh. Too bad I don't have a baby book, but this card is definitely going in the Ikea box.