I'm going to stream of conscious this mo fo

At the park today, Cam and I encountered a young person walking around and showcasing her budding vocabulary (i.e. mom, hi, arm). Then as I was lurking by the swings and eavesdropping on the conversational habits of female "Stayathomes", as I am prone to do, I overheard her mother say that she is still nursing this individual twice a night. Now I am really confused. How old is this baby? One of my new favorite pastimes is mentally guessing the age of babies then asking mothers to find out how close I was. It's kind of like guessing how many marbles are in the jar at the public library, except much easier and without prizes. This one was a stumper though. It could have been anywhere from 10 months to a year-and-a-half. I would have asked, but I didn't find this "Stayathome" particularly friendly and frankly, I was a bit frightened to discover the answer. Let me say this though, Cam has officially started loving the playground. And he's much more fun to take there then he used to be. He crawls all over the jungle gyms, considers taking kamikaze leaps off of high ledges (then invariably chickens out), and works the slides. And of course he loves to eat rocks. He knows I don't want him to do this too, which of course increases the pleasure exponentially. He'll look me directly in the eye, put a rock in his mouth, then turn and sprint-crawl away from me in glee. It backfired on him today though when, in an attempt to escape the rock police, he got wedged between a rod iron fence and a plantar. What can I say, disobedience is a bitch. I let him spend a few minutes behind bars in order to teach him "a lesson." And yes, I do get a good amount of my parenting skills from Arrested Development. When we got home from the park Cam was as "tired" as the hyper-hypo after he towed his parents car home. He had dirt smeared on his face, his hair was everywhere, and he smelled like sweat. In other words, he reminded me of myself in middle school. He powered down some beef flavored baby food and apple sauce, then hit the sack. All and all it was a pleasant afternoon...

A Sentimental Moment for Mama

Last night, Cameron woke up crying. I went into his room to soothe him, and I heard some suspicious sounds that made me think he might have a dirty diaper. He didn't, so I think the poor little guy had some gas, and that's what woke him up.

He had been crying so hard that his breathing was still uneven, but he was really sleepy, so I seized the moment to do something selfish: I held him and rocked him back to sleep. I don't think I've rocked him to sleep for almost six months now and he usually doesn't sit still for very long in my lap anymore, so it felt good to have my little boy in my arms. He nestled up against me and laid his head on my shoulder, and my cup runneth over.

As I sat there, listening to his breathing and feeling him become heavy with sleep, I reflected about Cameron's first year of life and how so much has changed in just one year. I thought about when he was really little and how we would often fall asleep together in the chair in the middle of the night. I remembered how small his little body was then and marveled at how he only needed to feel safe, secure, and full in order to fall asleep. And then I thought about the many years ahead of us, and I wondered how old Cameron will be when he decides he's too big to sit in Mommy's lap and snuggle. I thought about how the day will come when I won't be able to soothe Cameron or make his problems go away just by hugging him, and that made me sad.

Growing up, my parents told me again and again that I would always be their baby. I thought I knew what they meant, but now that I'm a parent myself, I get it, I really get it.

Cameron, you have an open invitation to climb into my lap for a hug, no matter how old you are...

The Last 24 Hours

It's been an eventful 24 hours for Cameron. He played in the sand box at the park, ate a leaf, threw up all over Mike, stacked the toy rings on the post all by himself, and climbed in the dishwasher. Just another day in the life of the Cam-Man!



By the way, this is a direct quote from a queasy Mike after the vomiting incident last night: "You haven't really lived until you've had someone throw up on the underside of your chin."

Fright Night

Tonight I saw Cameron so frightened that his little hands were actually shaking. The culprit? A large, foreign intruder that made lots of loud, scary noises...the vacuum cleaner. When I first turned it on, he kept screaming. I think he was scared at first, but then he followed me around the house, vigilantly watching the vacuum cleaner and keeping a safe distance.

I guess this just goes to show how often I don't vacuum. On second thought, maybe Cameron's fear is justification/rationalization for why it's okay to not vacuum!

The power of the written word

I don't know if you've ever had the mind-blowing experience that is Nancy Tafuri's "Goodnight, My Duckling," but if you haven't yet, you're about to. I found this treasure in the library and chose to check it out based on the critical acclaim. This is the review printed on the back of the book:

"Quiet, lovely, and soothing, this is a worthy companion to Tafuri's Have You Seen My Duckling?" - Kirkus Reviews

Sounds absolutely delightful right? Well here is the story:

Early one evening...
"Time for bed, my ducklings!"
"Goodnight, little duckling."
"Sleep tight, little duckling."
"See you in the morning, little duckling."
"Hurry home, little duckling."
"Are you lost, little duckling?"
"There you are my duckling!"
"Sweet dreams little duckling."
"I love you, my duckling."
Goodnight.

Wow. The more I read that the more touched I am. I'll admit, the first time I read it I was a little perplexed with the initial transition from "Early one evening..." to dialogue. Initially I was left with a similar feeling to the confused wonder I experienced at the end of Black Swan. But clearly Goodnight My Duckling is not to be understood. It is to be experienced. It says so much by saying so little. Again, all I can really say is Wow. What a metaphor for life. A masterpiece. So much pain and beauty in one story is almost too hard to take. I am going to end this blog early to continue my weeping in peace. Be well and remember that,

I love you my ducklings,
Papa

Haircut #3

I think I'm going to have to take Cameron to get his hair cut at least every six weeks. His hair has been so shaggy recently, it's probably better to get his hair cut every month. Really? This kid is going to have to get his hair cut more often than Mike or me!

I took Cameron to the hair salon this evening, and our experience was not as pleasant as Haircuts #1 and #2. He wouldn't keep his head still for the stylist and kept trying to turn to look at her. He also kept putting his hands up around his head, probably trying to defend his hair from getting chopped off. After all, he's been told his whole life how great his hair is and how much hair he has, and so of course he probably doesn't understand why anyone want to mangle his best feature. In fact, one time our next door neighbor said "haircut" to him, and he started crying. True story.

Anyways, if that wasn't difficult enough, there was also a head-banging incident. Somehow he hit his head on the steering wheel of the fire truck he was getting his hair cut in. (For those of you who have never been to a kids salon before, that last sentence sounds completely ridiculous, I'm sure.) I looked at him and I saw blood trickling down between his eyes. My first thought was that the stylist cut him with her scissors, but then I remembered that her scissors were by his neck when "the incident" happened. Anyways, the litle champ didn't cry at all, and now he looks extra tough with his battle wound from his hair cut.

Oddly enough, Cameron didn't seem to mind the clippers, and he stayed perfectly still. That's especially weird, considering he doesn't like random loud noises like the vaccuum cleaner, the ice maker, or the pepper grinder. Anyways, I think the haircut was abbreviated because of the open head wound, but I still think the stylist did a pretty good job.

By the way, you might have noticed another bruise on Cameron's forehead; that also happened on my watch while we were on a slide at the park earlier this week. Not a good week for Cameron's noggin!

The Results Are In...

BabyCenter just released the most popular baby names of 2010. Drum roll, please...the most popular girl's name is Sophia, and the most popular boy's name is Aiden. Interesting - I don't think Cameron has any friends named Sophia or Aiden.

Anyways, I checked the Top 100 boy names of 2010 and looked back at the March Madness-style tournament o' names that Mike set up. Here are the results:

Jackson vs. Tupaquiupanqui - Jackson is #3, while Tupaquiupanqui wasn't anywhere on the Top 100, or Top 100,000 (voter results: Jackson won)

Dylan vs. Tyler - Dylan is #23, while Tyler comes in at #34 (voter results: Dylan won)

Jordan vs. Stryker - Jordan is #69, while Stryker is no where to be found, which is not surprising, since this isn't even a real name! (voter results: Jordan won)

Cameron vs. Isaiah - Cameron is #37, and Isaiah is #63 on the list (voter results: Cameron won)

Now that I look back on it, I am so glad we chose the name we did. I am really glad we didn't pick Jackson, considering that it is the third most popular name out there right now.

I can't even imagine Cameron with another name. He is who he is.

To see the complete list of the Top 100 baby names in 2010 for boys and girls, click here.

Letter to Cameron

Dear Cameron,

I'm writing this letter because I love you and care about your well-being, and I DO NOT like watching you vomit after you finish dinner....especially after I've just taken off your catch-all bib. No offense, but bulging eyes and a red face due to choking isn't the best look for you. Plus, it's a little scary. Due to your hijinks and shenanigans, I'm now seriously considering taking a CPR class so I know how to clear that little windpipe of yours in the event it gets blocked again.

So in order to avoid future mishaps, I strongly encourage you to consider CHEWING your food before you swallow it whole. Whether it be Sprouts Stage 3 "advanced meals with texture" or goldfish crackers, please, please, please use your two teeth to bite and chew food until it's the proper size to be swallowed. And oh yeah, it helps if you don't stuff five goldfish in your mouth at once.

We've been working on food with different textures for the last six weeks or so, and I know that may have been a little late in the game. I read that we were supposed to start introducing textured foods to you earlier we did or there's a risk that we will have a very hard time getting you to eat them as a toddler. I'm very sorry about the delay, and I hope I haven't doomed you to a lifetime of bland dietary preferences like plain cheeseburgers and tacos with no lettuce...you may not understand that that jab was at your father, but you will soon find out for yourself that your father is a man who rather enjoys texture-less food.

Anyways, three vomiting situations in two weeks is enough for me. In the words of Uncle Joey on Full House, "Cut. It. Out."

Here's to hoping you didn't throw up everything in your stomach so you can sleep through the night tonight!

xoxo
Mommy

Deep Questions by the Graves' Men

Cameron is searching. He is on a quest for wisdom. Often he crawls over to his magnetic alphabet toy and proceeds to ask a very difficult question:

This is a true story. He really does pick out the Y on an almost daily basis and then carry it around with him, while looking at you with eyes full with wonder. Well, if he wants answers, he's definitely looking at the wrong man. But in honor of our young philosopher, I will gladly contribute some why questions that have been plaguing me of late:

- Why did Pampers decide to include a brownish-green splotch of color at the bottom edge of their diapers? This struck incredible fear into me for the first 200 diaper changes. Is this some sort of a diaper practical joke or did they really not consider the fact that a brownish splotch of color in that location might be disconcerting to their consumers. Seriously, why?

- Why are Jehovah Witnesses recruiting? Correct me if I'm wrong, any witnesses of Jehovah out there, but don't ya'll believe that literally only 144,000 people will make it into heaven? If I was in an organization where only a select few of us were going to get free donuts, let alone eternal life, I'd probably be actively working to keep that organization a secret. Every person you recruit directly reduces your odds of salvation. Plus, if you stop, I don't have to awkwardly ignore your knocks while you're fully aware that I'm standing directly on the other side of the door. So it's a win-win really. Think about it...

- Why are people still playing football? According to the highly empirical "research" I just did on Wiki Answers, the average lifespan of an NFL player is about 15 years less than the average American man. Maybe this is due to the fact that you have to be a clinically obese giant and/or subject yourself to repetitive brain trauma in order to be any good at this sport? Not to mention, the fact that the "sport" really only has about 12 minutes of game-play within a three-hour event. There might be a better ratio of physical movement to strategic planning in chess. Plus the rules of this game are completely convoluted and over-complicated. Why does America love this game? Why am I watching it as I type? Why?

- Why are we still teaching cursive in school? Listen 4th grade teachers, they have this thing called typing that may possibly provide a slightly faster way to write. Plus, I think more adults these days are using computers than inking sprawling letters. We're not still teaching kids how to use a quill in school, are we? Exactly, so why are you still teaching these children cursive? Why? Why!? Why!!? Note to Cameron, if they are still teaching this outdated skill when you are in 4th grade, I want you to actively protest by refusing to participate. In fact, I want you to take out your iPhone 25, or whatever they have invented by that time, and text your teacher the following: "Stop pushing your slanty agenda. I want to learn actual life skills today, not archaic artsy-fartsy nonsense." If you can't tell, I hate cursive with the burning passion of a thousand suns. I didn't understand why I had to learn two forms of writing with a pencil 20+ years ago, so I really don't understand it now. Plus, I have the fine motor skills of a four-year-old, so thinking about trying to trace those curvy letters over and over sparks some PTSD in me. Go away cursive. Die!

- Why are movie award shows separated by genders? Is there a different criteria for judging acting in men and women? Are men or women at a different tier than the other, so that by combining it one would be at a competitive disadvantage. The feminist in me is stirring. What is the rationale behind this? Why?

- Why doesn't phonetic start with an f?

- Why are people obsessed with baby teeth? It's like when adults get around babies they all need to fulfill some sort of dental fantasy. It's not as bad now that Cameron's teeth are on prominent display, but when they were in their turtle head phase, people were constantly straining to get a peek and making comments about the sure immanence of tooth arrival. The odd mixture of excitement and anticipation on these people's faces baffles me. The teeth are here now and it's really not exciting. I swear the only things more overrated than teeth are Tim Tebow and Mother Teresa.

- Why can't the water dispenser in our fridge just keep working? It was like "Awakenings." The water came back for two beautiful, thirst-quenching months and than just as mystically as it appeared, it was gone. We need Cam to work his magic again.

- Why have we not earned "blog of the day" honors on blog-spot yet? You'd think with a constituency of 7 followers, we'd finally start getting some respect.

- Why am I still sitting here typing nonsense? I'm out...

Out and About

I just thought I'd share two amusing anecdotes that have happened over the last few days:


1) Mike, Cameron, and I went to lunch one day last week. Our server, who was an elderly gentleman, took our order and then hesitantly asked us, "Does...the person...need anything?" referring to Cameron. As soon as he walked away, we chuckled a little. Obviously, our server wasn't sure if Cameron was a boy or girl, so he decided to play it politically correct. After this conversation, our server must have recognized the ignorance of his question and decided in the kitchen to rectify the situation, because when he returned to our table, he came out boldly and strongly with, "She's so well-behaved." And then he came back with two more "she" references, and every time he left our table, Mike and I got in a good laugh at his expense.


2) Today, Cameron and I were shopping at Old Navy. We walked by a woman and her baby and we sort of made eye contact, so I obligingly smiled at her. She stopped and asked, "Is that Cameron?" I must have looked really surprised, because she said, "I go to the lapsit class at the library with your husband." Wow, I didn't know Cameron is such a celebrity in the Cedar Park Library circle. Maybe he needs to wear sunglasses again like in the old days, so the paparazzi doesn't catch up with him anymore!