Where has the time gone?

I often wonder at what point your baby becomes your toddler... when does you toddler become a child? a teenager? an adult? Is it those milestone birthdays?

For someone you don't see every day, these transformations happen in segments. You see the infant grow into an adult in pieces at thanksgivings, Christmases and Birthdays. Then, before you know it, you're marveling over how quickly the time has gone. I'm currently doing this with my younger siblings. One is about 10 years younger and the other 15 years younger. I see them every now and then and always catch myself wondering when the little kid who used to tag along behind us turned into this rebellious teenager. I remember at the rehearsal dinner for my wedding, my brother Scott was standing next to me. For some reason I looked down and realized he was not standing on the curb next to us. He was in fact standing on the same level ground I was. However, somehow in a matter of a couple of months he had grown a whole head taller than me.








It then makes me wonder about my own child. At what point will he come running into my room in the morning without the soft round features of a child? Or even worse, at what point will he just not run into my room in the morning? When will those hugs. Those deep, amazing, loving hugs disappear? When will he start to be embarrassed at the thought of HUGGING HIS MOTHER IN PUBLIC? At what point will he not want to nap on me? But instead will prefer the solitude of his bedroom. Perhaps even locking the door behind him so that I can't creep in just to watch him peacefully sleep? When will the nursery become his bedroom - and eventually be plastered with posters and other relics of his interests?

Already, it feels like he's been part of our family forever... while other times it seems like just yesterday he was born.







At what point in his life will it come time to pack up all of his toys and eventually turn his bedroom into just another guest room... in what will be an over sized home for just Ryan and I?




What about making him laugh? Everything I do makes him laugh... he laughs just because I laugh. He laughs at the dog running down the steps. But even I know that eventually... I won't be funny to him.






Every day I look forward to discovering new pieces of Jude's personality - his attitude, his taste, his cuddly-ness. I look forward to seeing the types of friends HE choses for himself, instead of the ones that we chose for him. But, it's times when I sit here and wonder about his future that I try to hold on to who he is today too. It's times like today that I want to hold him instead of holding his hand while he tries to wabble around. That instead of going for a run, I sit on the couch and let him nap in my arms. That I don't regret the decision to let him sleep with us in bed - and that I'm grateful for the times that he lets me carry him. It's times like today that I put the camera away and instead of making a memory through film, I'm making a real memory.






The past couple of weeks I have been filling every waking hour with preparations for Jude's first birthday. Finishing touches on the house, landscaping the front yard and deciding on details for the party. But I think about it and wonder if I'm just filling this time to avoid the truth. My son is turning one. The first year of his life is quickly coming to a close. This first year, he has probably learned and experienced more for the first time than he will for the rest of his many years to come. He has more than doubled in weight, acquired a variety of motor skills, is beginning to communicate and recognizes those people who chose to make themselves a significant part in his life. While his future holds an endless amount of possibility, I'm pretty sure this first year is the most significant part of his future. I'm so thankful that I've had the opportunity to spend this time with him.







But even though I'm nervous about the future... about growing beyond this period of infancy, I'm excited. I'm excited to see the person he becomes and the interests that he has. I look forward to teaching him more and watching him grow.






And yes, I'm even looking forward to his teen years. The years where I'm sure I'll want to pull my hair out and scream. I look forward to reading back over these blog entries and thinking about all of the things that he's done. How our family has matured and become complete with him.






As I say every month, I wish I could just bottle up a little bit of this 11-12 month old Jude. The Jude who just the other day was peacefully sipping away from a cup on the floor - and then I walked in the door. He threw the cup and if one can 'run' while they crawl, he ran, to me.





This Jude who is learning what things are and how they work. He loves using 'real' things. By real things, I mean things that grown ups use. He'll get his own screw driver while Ryan's working and mimic him. He'll grab his own wash cloth and dust like mommy. He'll try to figure out how to hook the hose back up to pop-pop's nail gun - because he knows it won't work without it.




Our outside time is teaching him new things too. He helps me pull weeds, he throws rocks and he eats strawberries (that aren't quite ripe) right off the bushes.




At one year, he has eaten at least 1 pound of dirty, but when tempted with a cupcake at his 1st birthday photos, he didn't want anything to do with it.

He still sucks his thumb, he still nurses and he still fondles my breasts as a source of security. He goes to sleep easily at night, but some how he know JUST when we're going to bed, because he begins to stir in his room to indicate that he wants to be in bed with us.

He says "what's that?" points and says "that" when he wants something and is just all together amazing. I look forward to the next year and can not wait to see what that brings for us.

But for now? I have a birthday cake to decorate :)

Side note: I'll be posting Jude's 12 month toy box picture later.

In his arms...

This morning has been a busy morning. Spring has given me a new spirit to "get shit done".

For example: the other day, for no apparent reason, I decided to paint the laundry room. You might be wondering why I chose the laundry room, when there are so many more important rooms to paint/decorate. The only reason: I already had everything I needed to do it. I had glossy white paint (to cover the pea green/yellow cabinets and touch up the trim), flat white paint (for the walls and ceiling), and a collection of other colors left over from other rooms in the house (to add an 'accent wall' behind the washer and dryer). So, probably two-three days ago now, I began painting this 4x5 (ish) sized room.

From previous painting experience, this should have taken 4-5 hours of one day... start to finish. But as I said, here we are days later... and it's still not done. I'm pretty sure I've spent just as much time cleaning brushes and setting up as I have actually painting.

This morning though, I woke up with the drive to finish it today. So, I throw on some old clothes, put Jude in his high chair, put breakfast on the tray and got to work. Well of course by the time I got the supplies back out, paint poured into the tray and washer moved out of the way, Jude was ready to get down. So, I stopped what I was doing, cleaned him up and made sure there wasn't anything he could get into - and set him free.

I thought for sure I'd need to stop at least a hundred times to redirect him from one object to another, but I was wrong. He played all by himself for a good 1.5 to 2 hours! I kept peeking out at him and he was just as busy as can be. He'd look up at me, smile and get right back to what he was doing. I'm pretty sure a good 30 minutes of this was spent with him crawling through my laundry pile.

Before long, I found a good stopping point and decided to put him down for a nap. I washed up and walk into the living room where he was busy playing a reached down for him. Then it happened. The best hug a mother could ever ask for. He wrapped his legs around me, held onto my neck a squeezed. After a good thirty seconds or so of squeezing, he let go, stuck his thumb in his mouth and cuddled close. Now, I've had plenty of Jude hugs before, but this one was just so special. Just when I thought to myself "look, he's perfectly fine playing all alone", he reassures me that "no, I still need you mom".

Ahh... the simple things in life.

He's Turning into a Little Boy

Jude's Aunt Katy usually refers to Jude as "little boy". Without fail, almost every time she sees him, at some point I hear her transform into 'baby talk voice', scrunch up her face the way people do when they're talking to children and say something like "hello there little boy!". Usually following this comment, Jude will giggle or put on his bashful smile or just grin from ear to ear. Even without this interaction, Jude is usually mesmerized by Katy and Bryan. Maybe it's the bright colored clothes, the fact they buy him gifts, the familiar voices that date back to before he was born, or just that he sees them all the time. Either way, Jude loves his Uncle Bryan and Aunt Katy.

But that's not the point. The point is "little boy". Little Boy.

When I think of little boys, I think of kids running around causing a ruckus, playing in the dirt with toy trucks and shovels. I don't instantly think of my precious little baby.

But the truth is, he's turning into a little boy. Aside from the fact that he throws blocks, attacks any electrical cord he can find and with one mini tantrum can turn me from being sane into blissfully insane, he's starting to LOOK like a little boy. His hair's getting thicker, he's filling out, features are becoming more prominent and he's starting to gain balance. He can play on his knees like a champ and motor skills are getting refined.

Today I put him in his bumbo chair while I was in the shower and he just didn't look quite right. He feet touched the floor and all of his moving made me nervous that he'd fall out. The same chair that just months ago he sometimes looked lost in.

He's growing up. Perhaps a little too quickly for me.

10 years later

At the end of this year, Ryan and I will have been dating 10 years. That's a long time. The other day, I was wondering what 15 year old Alicia, pre-Ryan Alicia would think of me now.

I'm pretty sure children were always a part of the plan. I never really thought I'd live my life without experiencing motherhood, but 15 year old me probably assumed that it would happen much later in life. 15 year old me had big plans. She wanted to graduate and move away for college. There was no room for UD... she'd got to school somewhere far away, eventually go to law school and strike it rich as some big shot attorney.

I'm not going to pretend I was some child prodigy, but in comparison to the majority of my family, I had a lot more ambition. My dad used to tell me that I was his retirement plan (or at the very least, when I was wealthy, he'd like me to buy him a boat).

After I met Ryan, those big dreams slowly started to change shape into a new picture. I'm not going to say that at 16 I was willing to throw away all of my ambition for this skinny kid with a limp, but I began questioning some choices. All of the sudden, UD didn't look so bad...

At some point while working at full-time, I went through a bit of identity crisis. I remember holding back tears at one of my employee evaluations when I was asked where I saw myself long term. I'm pretty sure he was asking whether I'd be hanging around my company for awhile or not... but I took it a little more literal. I questioned where I was and what I was doing. I had a degree damn it! Why wasn't I using it?!? I wanted to know at what point in my life I had lost the drive and ambition and exchanged it for this comfy cozzy feeling. When did it became OK for my husband to be the 'bread winner' while I followed what now only seems like the most expected path for a woman: acquire the ring, plan the wedding, have babies, live happily ever after? I wasn't sure when it had happened, but it did.

At that time, I was almost disappointed in myself. But the other day, I decided that I'm pretty sure I did not just take the easy alternative of staying in Delaware and starting a family. I chose an equally challenging path. A path where you beat the odds and live a happy life with your highschool sweetheart. A path where business suits are replaced with a sometimes-questionable-t-shirt; desks and conference tables replaced by highchairs and toy mats; and cocktail parties with play dates. A path that opens up to a whole collection of new life hurdles. Perhaps not the ones I had expected, but equally challenging ones that have given me a new perspective on life and what is really important.

I'm learning that I'd give up anything for the time I get at home with my family. I understand (more now than ever) why my mom would always say "do you know how easy that would be to make". I'm fine now with putting what could potentially be a career on hold - and that it's not as detrimental as I had first thought it was.

Our bathroom is still unfinished, the bills aren't always paid, taxes are a beacon of hope and vacations aren't as easy to come by, but none of that matters at 9:00 in the morning when I'm able to spend an hour just eating breakfast with Jude. Suddenly, the only things that matter are teaching Jude to eat with a spoon, that his food is not for the dog, and how to drink from a sippy cup - and you know what? Those are the times when that psychology degree really seem to come in hand more than ever.

Time to bring the mattress down...

I told Ryan last week that we needed to lower Jude's crib mattress.

Now, I know as well as any mother the urgency for lowering the mattress once your child is able to pull themselves up. However, Jude is very rarely in his crib while he's REALLY awake. So, I didn't see it as something that HAD to be done the second he was pulling himself up, but instead told Ryan to put it on his list of this to do for the weekend.

Well, last night, I took Jude up to bed. We usually rock him or walk him around the house for a minute or two until he falls asleep and then lay him down in his crib as peaceful as can be. I do the normal routine and lay him in his crib. There was a glitch and boom! Jude wakes up. I walk away, thinking he'll go right back to sleep, but he doesn't, so I scoop him up and gently rock him back to sleep. I then lay him down again and he's awake as soon as I lay him on the mattress. WTF! Determined to make it work, I walk away to see if he'll fall asleep on his own.

Now, we don't 'cry it out', so I'm guessing Jude just didn't know how to take this. I decide to hover outside of his room for a 5 minutes to see if he resolves the problem on his own. He's crying and crying and then after 4 minutes I just can't take it anymore and go in his room. What is he doing? Pulling himself up on his crib rails on his hands and knees. If left alone much longer I'm pretty sure he would have stood up completely and possibly tried to crawl out. It is not uncommon at all for him to try and crawl to the end of our bed... I'm sure his crib would be no different.

My lesson learned: Never underestimate your child.

A new kind of super hero

I once had a fear of security blankets, pacifiers, favorite stuffed animals... and all those other things that kids get attached to.

Then, Jude became a thumb sucker. While I think it's quite adorable and he seems to love it, as we've discussed, there's this little thing in the back of my head that says "remember that girl in 7th grade who used to suck her thumb???". But I push this little voice to the back of my head and relish in the glory of my wonderful baby boy who sucks his thumb and is oh so amazing. His ability to sooth himself or put himself back to sleep when he just slightly wakes up is just perfect. His pudgy fingers curled up in a fist connected to his rubber band wrists is just priceless. Then of course, there's the most adorable moments when he'll coyly smile at you mid-suck: finger still in mouth hiding his bashful little grin (and then follows that little treasure of a moment with a head butt into my chest to hide his face). It's sure to make you melt.

But thumb sucking was not the complete purpose of this post. It's that other security blanket that Jude has found. It's the comfort food/pillow/source of nutrition that I carry around with me every where I go. My breasts.

I'm not sure at what point exactly, but within the past couple of months, Jude has gained an uncanny reflex that begins with me picking him up. Once he is snuggly in my arms, thumb goes in his mouth and hand goes down my shirt (see above photo). No longer is using my chest as a pillow sufficient. Sucking me dry every 2 hours is just not enough. He will nuzzle his little hand right into my cleavage (or if he's feeling really frisky try to find his way to the nipple and pinch) and either let it just sit there or even fondle around a little. Turtlenecks are not longer a fashion statement, they are his Achilles Heal.

This is a little... uncomfortable(?) from time to time. People without a doubt have noticed and just chuckle at it and make the standard "typical boy" or "he knows where his food comes from" jokes. However, this reflex of his has gone beyond when mommy picks him up. Now, just about anyone/thing with breasts that picks Jude up, gets a good ol' fondling.

Apparently he was at my mother in laws the other day and she made a bit of a stink about it and he would just laugh every time she tried to stop him. Apparently he thought it was just the finniest thing in the world. But, it's not only my mother in law, but the waitress who just HAD to scoop him up... my mother... and countless other women. He has a superpower that most men would kill to have. He has the ability fondle women's breasts whenever he wants and have it come off as 'sweet' or 'silly' or just plain adorably awkward. He now has the nickname "Boob Man" from my father in law.

Is it wrong to now wish he had an actual security BLANKET? At least for the sake of his nickname?