Friday, May 30, 2008
Tuesday, May 27, 2008
My ordinary baby
At 13 months, Max has just started singing "Twinkle Twinkle" with his raised fists 'twinkling.' He can climb a ladder to six feet high. He can walk. He can identify and demand the food he wants by recognizing containers. He initiates games with the twins. He has fat rolls on his thighs.
Someone asked me what Max is like, and I said, "Commanding." Max knows what's going on, and he wants you to know that he knows.
In contrast, the twins at his age were relatively quiet, more passive, couldn't walk, couldn't sing, and were thin. They were happy and healthy, but were progressing as best they could given the conditions of their birth -- premature multiples. I told myself (and still do) that 6 weeks prematurity really isn't a big deal; it doesn't predict any long-term effects whatsoever. But in the short run, which constitutes their entire lived experience so far, it makes a big difference. I'm so grateful that Oliver and Wesley get the chance to live at all, and that they get to be healthy is sheer grace. I'm sorry they were born behind the starting line, and seeing Max thrive makes me realize just how hard they've had to work to do what term babies do naturally.
"Commanding" is the right word for baby Max; he commands my attention and respect. James says he's like the baby on "The Family Guy" who has the mind of an adult but the body of a baby. Oliver and Wesley had the same will to live, the same power of existence, but Max had the luxury of a solitary, lengthy gestation that empowers him to fuel his existential energy into amazing body and brain development. Actually, it's not amazing at all. It's just ordinary and normal...what a wonderful way for a boy to be.
Someone asked me what Max is like, and I said, "Commanding." Max knows what's going on, and he wants you to know that he knows.
In contrast, the twins at his age were relatively quiet, more passive, couldn't walk, couldn't sing, and were thin. They were happy and healthy, but were progressing as best they could given the conditions of their birth -- premature multiples. I told myself (and still do) that 6 weeks prematurity really isn't a big deal; it doesn't predict any long-term effects whatsoever. But in the short run, which constitutes their entire lived experience so far, it makes a big difference. I'm so grateful that Oliver and Wesley get the chance to live at all, and that they get to be healthy is sheer grace. I'm sorry they were born behind the starting line, and seeing Max thrive makes me realize just how hard they've had to work to do what term babies do naturally.
"Commanding" is the right word for baby Max; he commands my attention and respect. James says he's like the baby on "The Family Guy" who has the mind of an adult but the body of a baby. Oliver and Wesley had the same will to live, the same power of existence, but Max had the luxury of a solitary, lengthy gestation that empowers him to fuel his existential energy into amazing body and brain development. Actually, it's not amazing at all. It's just ordinary and normal...what a wonderful way for a boy to be.
Tuesday, May 20, 2008
Wednesday, May 14, 2008
Baby Wesley
After bath I often pad the sink with a towel and put naked Max in it, so he can look at himself in the mirror. Last night Wesley demanded the same, and when I refused him, he threw a big tantrum. It triggered a realization for me - Wesley is regressing to babyhood. I'm not sure why, but I think it's either out of jealousy of Max (but why would that begin at Max's 13th month?), or in response to potty-training (most likely).
Wesley's daily behaviors, between which I had not connected the dots, include: eating Max's food, asking for a baby spoon, sitting in high chair, sitting in Max's car seat, wearing Max's clothes (nearly strangled himself with a 9-month onesie), drinking from a bottle, pushing Max off my lap so he can be there, wanting to be wrapped in a towel and held like a baby after bath. Well, it seems kind of obvious now that I write it all - these things are happening at least every few hours all day long.
And what was Oliver doing while I was managing Max in the sink and Wesley in the tantrum? He challenged himself to pee into a half of a toilet paper roll holder, and then either tasted it or drank it. I didn't see it, but with total seriousness he said to me, "Pee pee yucky gross. Not in your mouth." One more life lesson learned.
Wesley's daily behaviors, between which I had not connected the dots, include: eating Max's food, asking for a baby spoon, sitting in high chair, sitting in Max's car seat, wearing Max's clothes (nearly strangled himself with a 9-month onesie), drinking from a bottle, pushing Max off my lap so he can be there, wanting to be wrapped in a towel and held like a baby after bath. Well, it seems kind of obvious now that I write it all - these things are happening at least every few hours all day long.
And what was Oliver doing while I was managing Max in the sink and Wesley in the tantrum? He challenged himself to pee into a half of a toilet paper roll holder, and then either tasted it or drank it. I didn't see it, but with total seriousness he said to me, "Pee pee yucky gross. Not in your mouth." One more life lesson learned.
Saturday, May 03, 2008
Thursday, May 01, 2008
TMI Post (too much information)
My Christian parenting advice book says the parent need not shower inordinate praise upon the tot for using potty. It's better to allow the child to experience inner pride at their mastery than to see his/her parent getting overly excited about something that is just an everyday, private human event.
To that I say, "Boo!" And to poop, I say "Whee! Yea!! You did it! You're super great!" while jumping and waving my arms in the air. This sometimes has the effect of interrupting their business because I startle them, but it always has the effect of encouraging them. It's even inspirational -- they're motivated to go again just to see mommy turn into a raving primate.
What I didn't intend or anticipate, however, was how my exuberant encouragement would spawn competitive pooping. I suppose this would only happen between twins - if a sibling were even a year older, s/he'd know better. Yesterday Wesley went poo in the small potty chair, and mommy went nuts. Oliver joined in, jumping and waving his arms and shouting "Wesley did it! Good job Wesley!" Before Wesley finished, Oliver said, "Oliver's turn! Oliver has big one. Oliver's turn!" Wesley barely got his behind off the chair before Oliver shoved his onto it. So then Oliver went, trying to make a bigger one that would lay on top of Wesley's. And, of course, praising himself all the way: "Oliver did it! Good job Oliver!"
The Christian parenting guru would probably disapprove of a woman going wild over two naked boys competing over excretory productivity. Oh, and of course there was a baby trying to climb into the potty (that's Max's new raison d'etre). But I really don't think I'm compromising my dignity, at least no further than it's already been. As soon as you find yourself kneeling in front of a toilet, begging its occupant to go, you should just wave bye-bye to your dignity, along with cleanness and privacy and evidence of success, as they all go swirling down the drain.
To that I say, "Boo!" And to poop, I say "Whee! Yea!! You did it! You're super great!" while jumping and waving my arms in the air. This sometimes has the effect of interrupting their business because I startle them, but it always has the effect of encouraging them. It's even inspirational -- they're motivated to go again just to see mommy turn into a raving primate.
What I didn't intend or anticipate, however, was how my exuberant encouragement would spawn competitive pooping. I suppose this would only happen between twins - if a sibling were even a year older, s/he'd know better. Yesterday Wesley went poo in the small potty chair, and mommy went nuts. Oliver joined in, jumping and waving his arms and shouting "Wesley did it! Good job Wesley!" Before Wesley finished, Oliver said, "Oliver's turn! Oliver has big one. Oliver's turn!" Wesley barely got his behind off the chair before Oliver shoved his onto it. So then Oliver went, trying to make a bigger one that would lay on top of Wesley's. And, of course, praising himself all the way: "Oliver did it! Good job Oliver!"
The Christian parenting guru would probably disapprove of a woman going wild over two naked boys competing over excretory productivity. Oh, and of course there was a baby trying to climb into the potty (that's Max's new raison d'etre). But I really don't think I'm compromising my dignity, at least no further than it's already been. As soon as you find yourself kneeling in front of a toilet, begging its occupant to go, you should just wave bye-bye to your dignity, along with cleanness and privacy and evidence of success, as they all go swirling down the drain.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
