for my dad...

...who loves being, and who is just as remarkable, a grandfather, as he is a father to me:

We love and miss you here in Brooklyn and hope you have a very happy Father's Day!

the stash

It's raining today. Again. So it looks like Garrett and I will be hunkering down indoors. Again. I suppose, then, that it's a good thing we were able to swing by the library yesterday to not only attend story time (where Garrett, for the first time ever, actually participated rather than solely wandering around the Toddler Room picking random board books off the shelves) but to pick up a stash of books to keep us company. Here's the loot we checked out:

Books for Garrett:
The Little Mouse, the Red Ripe Strawberry, and the Big Hungry Bear by Don and Audrey Wood. This one we actually get to keep in our own collection. For every third time you attend story time, you get a free book to take home. It's a pretty fantastic deal, if you ask me.

Good Dog, Carl by Alexandra Day. I think we're going to have to soon add this one to our own collection. It took Garrett only a few pages to become a devoted fan. And why not? This book features two of Garrett's favorite things: dogs and babies.

Oh, David! by David Shannon. Garrett has thoroughly enjoyed this one, most likely because he can totally relate to David's plight.

Eco Babies Wear Green and Foodie Babies Wear Bibs by Michelle Sinclair Colman. Garrett likes these, but I think I like them more. They are hilarious! I love it when people can take a step back and poke fun at the trends currently circulating through our society.

The Very Hungry Caterpillar by Eric Carle. We already own the hardcover edition, but Garrett wanted to take home the board book. I say, why not? Garrett likes to turn the pages of this one by sticking his fingers in the "eaten through" holes.

But Not the Hippopotamus by Sandra Boynton. Let's just say we're big Boynton fans at our house.

Books for Lindsay:
Tears of the Giraffe by Alexander McCall Smith. This is the second book in the Number 1 Ladies' Detective Agency series. I got hooked with the first one, and must now devour the rest.

Espresso Tales and Love Over Scotland by Alexander McCall Smith. Okay, so I'm a bit addicted to A. M. S. these days. These two are books two and three in the 44 Scotland Street series, the first book of which I just finished reading. The humor is delightfully subtle and the characters are great.

The Guernsey Literary and Potato Peel Pie Society by Mary Ann Shaffer and Annie Barrows. Nearly everyone I know has read this book, which means it's high time I try a little harder to keep up with the Jones'. I'm already half-way through and am loving every page.

What books -- borrowed copies or your own -- are you reading?

to a wonderful father

I realize that Father's Day is still a few days away, but I've lately been wanting to sing Blake's praises on the subject of fatherhood and lest the typical weekend craziness gets the better of me, I'd better pen my thoughts now so that they don't slip away.

I knew when I married him that Blake would one day be a great dad. Since Garrett was born, thus turning Blake from a husband to a father as well, this fact has been confirmed to me time and time again. For the past two years, Blake's natural ability to love and care for his son have been a delightful thing for me to watch.

I must admit: I didn't always agree with Blake's way of handling Garrett. He hadn't read the parenting books I had or participated in the child-rearing conversations I'd had with other mothers. He didn't have that divinely innate "mother's instinct" that had developed within me somewhere along my path to motherhood. How, therefore, could he possibly know better than I what was best for our son?

Oh, he knew. He knew, and more often than not he knew far better than I did. His "father's instinct" was just as divine and just as developed as my own knack for parenting. His gut instinct may have dictated a direction different my own would have gone, but he was just as adept as I was.

It took me some time to realize this, and then a little more time to accept it. I still sometimes forget that he, too, knows what he's doing, and I have to try hard to keep myself from correcting or criticizing him. But then I watch the two of them together, and I get all wishy-washy as my appreciation for Blake and all that he does for Garrett nearly knocks me off my feet.

Fatherhood: Round Two is just around Blake's corner, and his excitement for the arrival of his second son is contagious. Our children are incredibly lucky to have such a devoted, competent role model in their lives, and I hope that one day they, too, realize it.

and suddenly his feet caught up with the rest of him

Yesterday Garrett wore size 5 shoes. This morning, when I put him in a brand new, never yet worn, pair of darling blue and orange sandals -- shoes, I might add, that matched the majority of his summer wardrobe -- I discovered that he was no longer a petite size 5. After running myself ragged at a variety of shoe stores I have learned that his feet are in fact now somewhere between a size 6.5 and a size 7, depending on the shoe style.

Are you kidding me? I knew his feet were growing, and I'd been on the lookout for a new pair of sturdy, well-priced shoes for him, but, I don't know -- this is borderline ridiculous. Two whole sizes?! I suppose, at least, that the size of his feet now finally seem to be more in proportion with the size of the rest of his tall body. And that, for some reason, is pretty comforting to me.

But speaking of his quick-growing feet (which, yes, are now more appropriately outfitted...I won't have my son wandering around with squished toes any longer than necessary), Blake and I were stunned over the weekend to learn that they've become quick in other ways, too. A few moments after Blake climbed the ladder to the top bunk in order to hang some decor on the wall, Garrett scaled the ladder, too. Both of us were too shocked to stop him, and consequently Garrett enjoyed some quality time with his dad up on top. I knew this day was inevitably coming -- I just didn't think it would come this quickly.

But it's not going to happen again any time soon, if we can at all help it. We tried to take the ladder down until, two stripped screws later, it became clear that that wasn't our option. Instead Blake concocted a piece of cardboard into a makeshift barrier, which will have to do until we can come up with something more permanent. So far it seems to be working.



And what, I know you are asking, were we trying to hang on the wall above the bed in the first place? Well, only the most darling vintage transportation pictures EVER.

(Click to enlarge. Also, you'll have to pretend with me that my camera has panoramic capabilities)

These were a fantastic eBay find from my talented, keen-eyed mother. And aren't they just perfect for a little boys room? Garrett, with his great view of them from the crib, likes to point them out with accompanying car and train noises. Thank you, Mom! We think they are awesome!

quirks and milestones

I have a quirky little toddler on my hands these days. Sometimes Garrett's quirks are sweet evidence that he's comprehending more as he grows older; sometimes they are just frustratingly obnoxious, compounded by the fact that half the time I have no idea what he's trying to tell me. Either way, he is, as always, keeping me on my toes. Here are some of his recent habits:

- He has learned the tricks of the trade when it comes to bedtime stalling. He begs for extra blankets, more stuffed animals, music on the iPod. He needs his nose wiped, his shirt pulled down, another drink of milk. We do what can to appease him -- within reason, of course -- but most nights our only real resort is to tell him we love him and close the door to drown him out as he wears himself out wailing.

- Mealtimes can be just as frustrating. If it's not the fork he just threw on the floor that he needs, it's more dipping sauces (even if he still has plenty of ranch and/or ketchup on his plate). Or it's that his hands got dirty and he needs me to wash them again. I've been having a time lately getting him on a snack-and-meal schedule that we both find suitable. He is, apparently, constantly hungry; I don't want his appetite spoiled. It's a daily battle of whines and wills that usually results in a good helping of unpleasantness (and by "unpleasantness" you know I mean food thrown angrily onto the floor from his perch in the high chair) at the dinner table.

- And speaking of throwing, Garrett is not a toddler prone to hitting as a way of releasing anger and tension (not yet, anyway). He does, however, like to throw things -- dangerously so. It's a bad habit we're desperately trying to break. I'm welcoming any thoughts and ideas on the matter.

I sincerely hope that a lot of these difficulties will sort themselves out as he learns to talk. It's pretty clear to me that most of our daily battles are rooted in our struggles to communicate.

But, continuing on, here's a little more of what my quirky boy has been up to:

- If I help get things started (i.e. undo buttons or snaps, or pull shirts partway over his head), he can undress himself. And then, when prompted, he'll put his dirty clothes in the hamper. Sometimes he forgets that the hamper is not his dresser drawer, but at least he's making an effort.

- He'll also, usually when directed, but occasionally of his own accord, clean up his toys when he's done playing. Of course, I typically need to be cleaning along with him for there to be any motivation, but baby steps, right?

- Perhaps because he's so bent on round-the-clock snacking, he's figured out how to pull kitchen chairs over to the counter so he can climb up and help me prepare food. Except for those times when I can't distract him away from the gas stove knobs or block of kitchen knives, he's actually a pretty good helper -- or, I suppose the more correct term would be onlooker. He loves watching, especially when cracking eggs are involved.

- Despite his tendency toward stalling at bedtime, he does recognize his own sleepiness during the day. When he's tired, he'll do any number of things to get me to put him in the crib already -- he'll bring me his blanket and promptly start fake snoring into the silky side, he'll throw himself down onto the ground in irrational tears until I get frustrated and drag his sorry self to bed (while he smiles smugly to himself during our walk to his bedroom), or he'll stamp his foot and grab me by the hand to lead me to his crib where he'll point and beg to be put.

- He eats with utensils. I had always assumed it would be harder to teach a toddler how to use a spoon and fork, but he figured it out on his own pretty quick. Maybe that's because he doesn't like dirty hands and eating properly keeps his fingers cleaner longer.

- I have absolutely no intention to attempt to potty train Garrett until next spring or summer, but we recently marked a huge milestone in his path to being ready for it: Garrett now recognizes when he needs a new diaper, or new di-di, as he calls it. He's lately taken to going off somewhere privately to, um, take care of his business, and when he reemerges stinking to high heaven, I'll ask him if he needs a new diaper. Yes, he'll nod as he clasps his now filled pants from behind, new di-di. And then, instead of running mischieviously away, he'll let me promptly change him. He'll occasionally respond the same for a wet diaper, but not always, and passing gas confuses him to no end. He can't quite figure out that just because there was a release of sorts there isn't necessarily a need for a new diaper. To placate him, I'll check his pants, but in the end all I can tell him is that there's nothing there but his bare bottom. I'm not usually a fan of bathroom humor, but as the one who changes his diapers, I get a big kick out of this new development.

I'm sure there is more I could share. Garrett is a funny little boy. But I suppose I should save something for a different rainy day.

the point of no return

There is a certain amnesic spell that almost all new mothers seem to find themselves entranced by. It's the selective forgetfulness, in the days and weeks after their sweet baby is born, that allows them to make light of the pains and miseries of childbirth. Those horrible contractions? Oh, they weren't so bad, really. The fact that you lost control of more than one bodily function right there in front of everyone while lying on the delivery table? Embarrassing, but whatever, we've moved on, right?

This little bout of memory loss appears to get thicker and more convoluted the farther away one gets from the blessed event. This is all well and good -- without it, I'm not sure there are many women out there who would consent to giving birth a second time. At some point, though, during a subsequent pregnancy, the spell is lifted, the remembering starts, and you suddenly realize that you are standing at the point of no return. Whether you like it or not, you're going to have to experience childbirth again!

I am a few days shy of officially entering my third trimester, "Labor Day" is fast approaching, and, in the words of the Phantom, I am

Past the point of no return,
no backward glances,
the games we played 'til now
are at an end.

With every extra ounce of discomfort I feel as my body grows more and more disproportioned, I find my mind wandering to the day Garrett was born, and I sincerely begin to wonder how on earth I survived the experience of bringing him into the world. (And let's not even discuss here those challengingly volatile newborn days...)

Of course, experience also affords me the realization that I will once again succumb to the numbing effects of post-childbirth amnesia. But before it sets in, I've got a major mental and physical threshold to cross. In my weaker moments I get scared to go through with this again, though, I suppose, as the Phantom likes to remind us all,

the bridge is crossed,
so stand and watch it burn.
We've passed the point of no return.

i could, but...

I could tell you about our trip yesterday to the Bronx Zoo, about how Blake was able to take the day off of work and how it was his very first visit. I could tell again about how cool the Congo Gorilla Forest is, or about how Garrett loved riding the Bug Carousel (and how after the ride was over, he kept begging for more whenever he heard its music wafting through the exhibits), or how lovely the butterfly garden is. I could tell you about all the spring babies we saw there -- the adorably wiggly monkey, the graceful and remarkably short giraffe, or the playful little lion cub. I could tell you about the two-hour subway ride it took us to get there, and what a pill Garrett was for the entire duration of the trip. I could tell you how exhausting our excursion was, dragging my unwieldy body to and around the zoo, or how, even though this is my third visit, I've still only seen about a third of the exhibits.

Or I could show you the picture I snapped just before we left, which I think sums up well how most of us were feeling at the end of the day....

I could tell you about how Garrett had his very first dentist appointment today, about the nice pedodontist who takes his job so seriously, he examines children's teeth in an orange astronaut's uniform in a tiny room decked out like outer space. I could tell you how even though this guy was gentle and took things slow to ease the fear factor, Garrett still screamed as he looked inside his mouth and counted his teeth. I could tell you about the fact that, as soon as two more top molars finish coming through, Garrett will have all of his baby teeth, and about how the dentist says his they look clean and healthy and to keep doing what we're already doing at home to promote good oral hygeine....

I could tell you about the interesting article I read in Time Out New York Kids about the supreme importance of unstructured, unsupervised play for children. I could tell you about how this makes me feel better about not being the sort of mother who hovers over her child rather than allow him to learn independence, or who signs him up for classes and lessons he doesn't want or need at his age, or how it makes me glad that I believe that timeless simplicity is better and consequently don't buy into toys and games that are overly commercialized....

I could tell you all of these things, but I am tired, and would prefer to sprawl out on some cushy surface to read my book rather than continue to sit any longer at this computer.

this weekend in brooklyn

I'm still hacking up a lung, and Garrett spiked a very high fever last night. Consequently, this morning neither of us were in any condition to make an appearance at church, and so we are at home resting. This, believe it or not, is a great act of faith on my part. News has trickled into me slowly over this weekend that none of my Primary presidency were, for either personal or health reasons, going to be at church either. I left a message with the Bishop this morning, informing him of the situation and that we were in dire need of some emergency help as far as leadership in Primary was concerned, and sent Blake off to church with a brief outline of how Primary generally runs so that whoever took over wouldn't be completely in the dark. I'm curious (and, yes, a tiny bit nervous) to hear how things have run down in our absence, and in the meantime I'm seriously hoping for better health across the board in time for next week.

Last night, when our health was more robust (and by "robust," I mean, Garrett didn't have a fever yet, and I was gobbling down cough drops like nobody's business), was spent helping our friends, Emily and Adam, initiate the use of their new porch grill. We had a BBQ, Brooklyn stoop style, at their place, and had a lot of fun. The weather was perfect, the food was delicious, and the neighbors passing by on the sidewalk (especially those who curiously ogled Adam and Blake as they fired up the little grill) made for some great entertainment. Who says you need a yard to have a great BBQ?

turning corners

So remember that little cold that wiped me out earlier this week? Well, I'm pretty sure it was something more. On Wednesday it was sucking the life out of me, and by Thursday I was much worse. I had a hacking cough and was so achy and miserable I could hardly move, let alone get out of bed and take care of Garrett (who himself has been succumbing to a milder form of what I've had), and when I spiked a relatively high fever, I got worried about what this illness could be doing to the baby inside me so I called my OB to discuss my options. He prescribed me an antibiotic and a cough suppressant over the phone and gave me some instructions, and after a decent sleep last night, I awoke this morning feeling like I've turned a corner. I'm far from feeling 100% again, but it's nice to have been able to unglue myself from my bed.

Blake's been a trooper, taking time out of his busy work week to help out wherever he can. He stayed home Wednesday morning to oversee the delivery of the bunk bed, and came home in the early afternoon yesterday -- just in time for the delivery of the bedding we'd ordered. He went right to work in Garrett's room, and these are the lovely consequences:


I'm incredibly pleased, with both the bed and the bedding. It makes for a more compact little room, but that was to be expected. With a few adjustments, there has still been room for everything. We have a few more things left to do in this room before I can deem it complete (including rearranging wall items, which might happen this weekend), but it's really coming together nicely. So not only has a corner been turned in the state of my health, a big one has been turned in the state of baby prep.

Garrett really likes the new bed, too. It's opened up for him a new world of climbing, though he knows that the ladder and everything it leads to is off limits. He hasn't slept in it yet, and I'm in no hurry to rush him. My plan in installing the bed in his room during the summer was to allow him to get used to it while I talked it up to him. Technically he has until a few months after the baby is born before he is officially booted from the crib; in the meantime, I plan to just take things as they come.

the doctor is in

I do not feel well today. Last night a cold developed in my chest, leaving me feeling achy and miserable. Luckily Dr. Garrett has been taking good care of me -- at least, as well as a 23-month-old untrained physician can. He took a good nap today, which allowed me to rest also. During our waking hours, he has let me recline on the couch rather than dragging me around the apartment by his needy little hand, and he's kept his tantrums to a pleasant minimum. And, sweetest of all, he's frequently leaned in to give me get-well-soon kisses, and has even read me a few stories from his personal collection of favorites.

Occasionally the storyteller has permitted his patient to read to him, which is a recent development and happily now recurring feature of our days together. Up until a couple of weeks ago, he slammed the books shut every time I tried to read to him. Now, however, he brings me stories he wants to hear and stands at my lap to look at the pictures or snuggles next to me on the couch. Because he is the offspring of avid readers, he has many books in his collection to pick from. I find, however, that I read him the same few over (and over, and over) again.

His current favorite is Freight Train.*

For those of you unfamiliar with this lovely little picture book, let me recite it to you. From memory -- which is what is bound to happen when you read the same book to your child dozens of times a day.

A train runs across this track.

Red caboose at the back. Orange tank car next. Yellow hopper car.

Green cattle car. Blue gondola car. Purple box car.

A Black tender and a Black steam engine.

Freight train. (This is the part where I ask Garrett what the train says, and he responds with a quiet and high-pitched "choo choo!")

Moving.

Going through tunnels.

Going by cities.

Crossing trestles.

Moving in darkness. Moving in daylight. Going, going...

gone.

I'm telling you, this one didn't win a Caldecott Honor for nothing. It's a classic, and I don't mind constantly reciting -- err, I mean reading -- it to my transportation-loving little boy.

And now, if you'll excuse me, I need to go back to the couch to put my feet up. And probably read Freight Train to Garrett again.


*Other favorites ranking high on his list these days include:

• Moo, Baa, La! La! La!
• Doggies: A Counting and Barking Book
• Noisy Farm
• Dinosaur!
• The Cheerios Play Book (he likes to pretend to take Cheerios off the page and feed them to me)
• Dr. Seuss's ABC