Year the First

In all the frenzied craziness of the holidays, I didn't get a chance to wish Bry an official happy birthday. So, happy birthday, bug! You seem to have gotten bigger. And more vertical.

One month

Two months

Three months

Four months

Five months

Six months

Seven months

Eight months

Nine months

Ten months

Eleven months

One year

Crikey, it went by quickly. People told us often when you were a wee thing that it just keeps getting better. And it has. Your daddy and I can't wait to see what your second year brings!

The Christmas Birthday Holiday Extravaganza 2007

We're all still reeling a little bit from the festivities over the past couple of days. Christmas and then Bry's first birthday back-to-back turned out to be a bit much. There were gifts, cake, lots of guests, very little, if any napping, at least two giant meals, and one small kitchen fire. Yes, a kitchen fire. Contained inside the oven, but still, I saw flames so I say it counts.

First, Christmas. The entire Eng clan journeyed to Minneapolis to celebrate and were greeted with several inches of snow. This would have been festive, except that it caused Dana and Ryan to slide off the highway and the rest of the family to get stuck before they could leave Wisconsin.

Santa Baby says 'Merry Christmas!'

The "fire" mentioned above was a byproduct of either a too large turkey or a too small roasting pan, depending on how you do the math. About 3 hours after we put the 20-pounder into the oven, a quick check revealed a hole in the roasting bag through which turkey drippings were, well, dripping onto the bottom of our gas oven. I couldn't give you the exact chemical equation, but basically, hot grease on flames seemed to cause an awful lot of smoke, followed by several flaming flare ups inside the oven. Shortly after Steve opened the oven door and was greeted with billowing smoke, the 3 smoke detectors on the ground floor started going off simultaneously. Amidst the cacophony, I was waving kitchen towels somewhat futilely at the smoke detectors, Steve was staring a little blankly at the flames, Grandma E was trouble shooting the fire, and Bry was blithely trying to eat lunch. If he hadn't noticed the fact that mama and daddy had to leave his sight to take care of things, he probably would have totally ignored the screeching smoke detectors.

The flaming oven problem was resolved when Steve stuck a cookie sheet under the roasting pan to catch the remaining drippings. The turkey was finished about 2 hours ahead of schedule and amazingly not burned to a crisp. The only trick was that we needed to scramble to cook the rest of the meal to catch up with the turkey. I put Bry on my back and the whole team pitched in to hurry up the rest of the dinner. An hour later, dinner was served and all was well. Of course, by the time we were ready to eat, Bry was ready to nap from a physically exhausted standpoint, but not so ready to nap from a "I don't want to miss any of the excitement" standpoint. When all was said and done, the adults enjoyed a good meal and Bry enjoyed about a 20-minute nap.

The rest of the evening was devoted to decorating for Bry's birthday party. I had folded about 75 paper cranes in the weeks before the party and my family and Steve helped to fold 25 more so that we could string 100 of them around the basement.

Like this.

And this.

We collapsed into bed, exhausted, that night. It took almost an hour to get Bry down at bedtime. Dude was wired. Yesterday we also found out that Bry has double ear infections, so the poor little man was probably in a fair amount of pain too. We awoke bright and early the next morning, and Steve started working on 3 pans of lasagna for Bry's party at about 6:30 am. After 3 solid hours of cooking (and more smoke detector tripping after one of the pans overflowed), we were good to go.

Bry's party went well, although it got off to somewhat of a slow start. Bry refused to nap that morning up until 15 minutes before the guests were supposed to arrive. He slept for a grand total of 30 minutes and woke up groggy and grumpy. But after some warm up time, he had a blast. He shmoozed with guests, opened more gifts, and enjoyed his very first slice of cake. The cake sequence went like this:

What is this?

Oh, I'm supposed to eat it.

Digging the cake.

I can poke it with a fork, too.

Cake, what cake? Look at this fork!

There was no dramatic headfirst plunging into the cake (as mama had done on her first birthday), and Bry seemed a little annoyed that the frosting stuck fast to his fingers. He did eventually tip the plate over and get red frosting all over his shirt sleeve. Overall though, the cake seemed to rate a definitive eh. The highlight of the party for Bry was this cup, which captured more of his attention than any of his new toys did:

See my cup!

At the end of the day, we were all ready for naps, but it again took a good long time to calm Bry down enough to make that happen. It also took me three days to wind down enough to write this post. Phew. No more celebrations for another year, right?

Gearing up for the Holidays

Due to the complexities involved in making time to celebrate the holidays with both sides of our family, Bryson had his first taste of Christmas at Grandpa and Grandma Sanger's house this past weekend. Thus we kicked off the first of, I believe 5, count 'em, 5 holiday celebrations we'll be partaking of between now and December 29. And that doesn't count Bry's birthday on December 26. I'm thinking New Year's Eve will be spent doing the most exciting thing I can imagine of at this point: sleeping.

I'm not sure Bry's really aware that he has experienced his first Christmas celebration, but he managed to greet the event with his usual enthusiasm. Especially since it involved his first taste of ice cream (more! more!) and he got to skip his morning nap in favor of playing! And more playing! Even though this was his second chance to open gifts, he still didn't quite catch on:

Watching uncertainly as mama demonstrates.

Starting to get the hang of it.

Looking on as mama helps him finish, lest we all be sitting around for the 17 hours it would take him to get all of the paper off of the box.

Nevertheless, he loved all of the gifts he received, especially the slide and the sled that we used to tow him around the living room.

Is this much fun legal?

Given the sheer number of holiday celebrations coming up, it's going to be a real letdown when the weekends stop being all about new toys and relatives (OK, mama) sneaking Bry sweets. Guess we'll just have to compensate in the meantime by being as boring as possible. Better go hide the shapes and the bibs.

Why Our Holiday Cards Will Be Late This Year

OK, so the first reason why our holiday cards will not likely be arriving in a timely fashion is because I procrastinated on getting them put together. I tried hard on Saturday to get a good family photo, but the forces of a squirmy (almost) toddler, dark lighting, and the end of a long day conspired to make it not so.

No problem, I figured. We'll just try again on Sunday. However, a trip to Target before making another photo attempt got in the way of this plan. Steve put Bryson into the back of the shopping cart (which he loves, especially when the cart is being pushed nice and slowly, right daddy?). Through some freak accident that I did not witness directly (read: it happened under daddy's watch), Bry tumbled into some part of the cart that caused this:

Baby's first puncture wounds

From two aisles over, I could hear Bry's distressed wails and figured it was no big deal. He's bumped his head before and usually gets over it as soon as he gets distracted by something more interesting. Like his shoes. Or the kitty. But as his crying started to escalate I got worried and rushed over. People, I have never seen a bruise develop that quickly. And there was blood! Granted, not very much blood, but enough to smear across his forehead and make me feel very, very sad. Steve sprinted off to the food counter to get some ice, and it's just as well because I might have been tempted to punch him. Just a little. You know, with a pointy object into his forehead. See how he likes it.

True to his nature, Bry calmed down pretty quickly and started grabbing for anything within reach on the shelves. His parents, on the other hand, were a wee bit more frazzled. The official injury count (not that I'm keeping track - OK, I'm totally keeping track) is Daddy: 2, Mama: 1. And the injury that occurred on my watch didn't even involve any bruises or bumps. Just so you know who's protecting your cranium, Bry. Ahem.

So, no holiday cards until Bry ceases to look like he's been in a bar fight. Or a bear fight, as Steve likes to say.

Obsessions

Bryson's latest obsession is putting things in other things and then taking them back out again. Sounds exciting, doesn't it? For example: (1) Put shapes into shape sorter (but not necessarily through their respective holes); (2) Dump shapes out; (3) Repeat step 1; and (4) Repeat step 2. And so on.

Example 2: (1) Pull all of the bibs out of the drawer; (2) Put most of the bibs back into the drawer; (3) Pull all of the bibs out of the drawer and toss them exuberantly over your head; (4) Put some of the bibs back in the drawer; (5) Pull all of the bibs out of the drawer and push them around the floor; (6) Crawl over to the book shelf and pull all of the books off. As you can see, this particular sequence doesn't repeat itself quite as nicely as example 1. And if you're particularly astute, you'll notice that it ends with all of the bibs not in the drawer (see Figure 1).

Figure 1: Bibs strewn about haphazardly.

Figure 2: Destruction achieved in approximately .25 seconds.
Possibly a new land speed record.

Zzzzz....

Knocking wood here, but just shy of his first birthday, Bry has finally figured out how to fall asleep on his own. Well, mostly on his own. I still nurse him before bed, but he goes into his crib awake, flails around for a few minutes and then flops over onto his side and babbles to himself until he falls asleep. Kind of like a puppy. Um, who talks.

He also sleeps through the night for the most part, so long as he's not sick or teething. Which, in recent weeks, has worked out to him sleeping through the night approximately once a week.

The only trick is getting him to learn how to stay asleep past 6 am. Actually, 6 am would be acceptable. Bry seems to be up and ready to start the day around 5 or 5:30 most mornings. He must believe he lives on the east coast. Or perhaps in the middle of the Atlantic Ocean, where this wake-up time would be a little more reasonable.

A Nap a Day...

...is one nap too few.

Bryson seems to be trying to decide if he wants to drop one of his naps. His predictable 9 am and 1 pm naps are a thing of the past. Not that they were around for all that long. Just as soon as I was comfortable with Bry's schedule, he's decided to change it up. Nothing surprising there, but perhaps I should have a talk with middle management about the information flow in this corporation. Mama seems to get left out of the loop an awful lot.

Yesterday morning I battled Bry for 30 minutes, trying very hard to convince him that napping is nice, that it feels good to close your eyes and rest, yes it really does. He was having none of it. After an epic battle that I didn't feel like carrying on all morning, I gave up and Steve took Bry grocery shopping. I left to run some errands and conveniently didn't come back until I was sure that Bry would be ready for another go at a nap and Steve could be the one to try his luck at charming Bry to sleep. (OK, I actually spent most of the morning trying to find winter boots for Bry and legitimately didn't come home until after the start of nap time. Every single pair of toddler boots that cost less than $50 seems to have disappeared from the metro area. Curse those parents who actually prepare themselves for the change of seasons on time.)

Twenty minutes before I arrived home I got a worried call from Steve, "Um, this child doesn't look anywhere near ready for a nap." I reminded him that Bry can hide his need for sleep very, very well and urged him to try anyways. Steve got him to nap without incident, but he only stayed asleep for an hour, after which he was up banging his hand on his crib rail and ready to be done with this whole sleeping thing.

Fast forward a couple of hours and Bry is tired. And cranky. Dinner consisted of excitedly and frantically signing "more" when the BANANAS! were first sighted on the counter, followed shortly thereafter by much writhing and protesting when I dared to offer Bry a spoon to feed himself some BANANAS! (You see the contradiction here, yes? Babies just are not reasonable. End of story.) Mid-meal I took him out of his highchair because he was coming close to ejecting himself out of pure misery and rage. I put him on the floor in the living room where he commenced to roll around, also in misery and rage. Dinner re-commenced after Bry calmed down and crawled over to me, again signing "more?" in a hopeful manner. And then it re-ended 10 minutes later when Bry threw everything I offered him (cheese, water, his spoon) on the floor.

Straightaway to the bath, where Bry calmed down almost immediately and played happily with his cups in the tub. He was asleep for the night (in the figurative sense) by 6:15.

Needless to say, one nap doesn't seem to quite do it for Bry. Not yet, at least. I'm thinking some baby Unisom is in order. Or maybe some hypnosis. Or, failing that, earplugs. For me.

Party Like It's 2007

Bryson attended his first birthday party today. It was held by Sarah and Abbie in honor of the 6 babies from our "Mom & Baby" group who are all turning one within about a month of each other. While there wasn't any cake, there were plenty of baby crackers and cheese to go around, so Bry was generally happy with the menu. However, he was apparently the acting King of Crankville today and fussed and cried through about half of the party - in between bites of cheese, that is. Not sure if it's because more teeth are on their way or because I had to wake Bry up from his nap to get to the party. Or maybe it's just the fun of a developing mind that decides it wants to do A (e.g., eat cheese) when all mama wants it to do is B (e.g., play nicely with others). You can see how that might set up some conflicts.

Overall, the scene was pretty much one of chaos. Babies sprawled about here and there, playing with toys, trying to steal others' toys, crawling and walking around, testing the limits of the baby proofing in the house, etc. If they had been renting a hotel room for the party, I'm pretty sure management would have deducted a deposit, because they did a pretty good job of trashing the place.

There were presents to open, and true to legend, most of the kiddos seemed more interested in the wrappings than in the gifts themselves. We should have wrapped up some chocolates and jewelry. Then the babies could have the thrilling experience of unwrapping and the moms could have had some useful (chocolate and jewelry are totally useful) gifts.

The cast of characters:

Emerson

Lucas & Sanni

Mr. Crankypants, in a rare moment of calm.

Abbie

Austin & Daphne

See, I told you things got crazy.

Signs

Signs that Bry is feeling better:

• Eating breakfast (bananas) this morning
• Enthusiastic cup banging at breakfast this morning
• Keeping breakfast inside his stomach this morning
  
• Covering the living room floor with toys, flinging books about, etc.
  

Signs that Bry is still feeling sick:

• Nose running like a faucet
• Coughing, sneezing
• Putting his head down on my shoulder and falling asleep at nap time within 2 minutes with no fussing, protesting, or general flailing of his limbs hither and yon

Bry and I are having pajama day (for him) and stay home from work day (for me) today. So far our morning has been filled with much playing. Don't tell daddy that he's missing out on the fun.

If You Don't Want to Hear about Puke or Vomit, Skip This Entry

No new news about Bry meeting whatever developmental milestone is currently in queue. However, I've now reached a new parenting milestone: being puked upon.

Tonight Steve, Bry, and I were out at Noodles for a lovely dinner. Bry wasn't so keen on his rice and lentils, but I figured it was just because he had had a big lunch. He turned down the tofu that we ordered for him too, but again, that was a long shot, given his hot and cold relationship with certain foods. Bry seemed tired, intermittently resting his head on the table, as if the act of holding his head up was really tiring his neck out. In retrospect, the fact that he wasn't pounding the table with his cup also should have signaled that something was amiss.

Midway through our meal, we (and at least 4 or 5 other diners in close vicinity) were treated to the sight of Bry projectile vomiting all over himself, the table, and the floor. He's never thrown up with quite that ferocity or volume before. There were occasions back in the early days when Bry would spit up what seemed like an impressive amount of milk and I'd wonder whether he had truly vomited, or just spit up. Now I know the answer.

After the event, both Steve and I just kind of sat there, dumbfounded. I can't speak for Steve, but I imagine he shared thoughts similar to my own, namely: "Uhhhh, what exactly just happened there?" Bry was crying, I think because he startled himself as well. I plucked his puke-covered self up out of the highchair all the while wondering about how to (a) keep the vomit from touching me, (b) clean up enough to get home, and (c) get all the other restaurant patrons to stop staring at us. OK, I really don't know if they were staring at us, but it certainly felt like they were, what with the bewildered, crying child and giant puddle of vomit on the floor directly under our table.

I took Bry back to the restroom to try to clean both of us up while Steve did damage control around the table. He put Bry's soiled bib in a takeout box (clever, if not disgusting) and mopped up what he could with a stack of napkins. He then alerted one of the employees who looked at the mess on the floor and then reached down to touch it for unknown reasons. The employee then shrugged his shoulders, said, "It's fine," and continued to bus our table, without washing his hands. I'm not sure the italics do justice to the grossness of this action, so take it from me: gross.

Somehow we managed to all make it home without further incident, but that's when the puking really started in earnest. Steve bathed Bry, after which I nursed him, per our usual bedtime routine. Bry then deviated from the bedtime routine when he pulled away mid-nurse and heaved the contents of his stomach all over me, the rocking chair, the floor, etc., etc.

Mostly undaunted by this turn of events (or perhaps just in shock), I called for Steve to help. We changed Bry's pajamas, swapped out the rocking chair cushions for couch pillows, and tried to resume the process of putting Bry to bed. I changed my clothes and somewhat naively, or perhaps stupidly, continued to try to nurse Bry. Not sure what I was thinking there. I had even brought out a stack of old towels with the thought that I should probably cover myself and/or Bry up, but failed to do so. Bry was quite sleepy, though still cheery, and I put him down in the crib without any problems. At some point after that, this whole crazy dance started over again and Bry threw up all over his crib. Cue in the second PJ change and add on a change of the crib sheet and mattress pad.

All together, Bry has puked about half a dozen times (thus far) tonight. Somehow, after each time, he has managed to smile at Steve or I when we go to retrieve him and clean him up. We've done 3 loads of laundry and I've washed my hands so many times that I think I'm starting to rub the skin off. Two worried calls to the pediatrician have revealed that we are, indeed, neurotic parents. I imagine the nurse was rolling her eyes while more or less telling Steve, "He's fine," and making the "first-time parents" sign to whoever was sitting close by.

At least we've wised up and wrapped a towel around Bry's mattress for easier clean-up. Here's hoping that Bry feels better soon. Because we're starting to run out of towels.

Baby, It's Cold Outside

Brrrr!

The temperature was 5 degrees Fahrenheit with wind chills to -14 degrees this morning when I trundled Bry out to the car for the ride to daycare. He refuses to wear mittens thus far because they cover his HANDS! that he needs for PLAYING! So I threw a blanket over his head and hoped for the best. Too bad no one makes an infant car seat warmer. So Bry can travel in style with toasty buns.

I'm not sure that I'm ready for the Minnesota winter to begin in earnest. I was lamenting to Steve recently that I miss summer when dressing Bryson consisted of pulling a romper over his head and leaving him barefoot. And at that time he was mostly content to sit still while we dressed him. Now there's the t-shirt or onesie, pants, sweater, socks, shoes, hat, coat, etc., not to mention the extra challenge of placing all of these items on a force of nature who can't be troubled to slow down enough to comply with the act of getting dressed. I imagine Bry's internal dialogue while we're trying to dress him goes something like this: "You want me to wear socks and shoes so my toes don't get frostbitten? I laugh at your frostbite. I can stay warm through the sheer power of kinetic energy alone. Now I must go pull all of those books out of that basket over there. STAT!"

At least he's still in diapers and we don't have to worry about the inevitable, cross-legged cries of, "I have to GO!" after we've layered the kid up with more winter insulation than a yeti has fur. (Work with me on that one.) Parenthood - it just keeps getting harder, huh?

Why Have You Not Introduced Me to Turkey Before?

Bry had a spectacular Thanksgiving at Grandpa and Grandma E's house. In between getting a new tooth, and not wanting to sleep very much he discovered the joys of turkey and cranberry mousse, both of which got an enthusiastic high chair tray pounding and a wide open mouth for more. He also learned about the existence of mashed potatoes, green bean casserole, stuffing, and a bite or two of jello. All of which earned a "Yes, more please" response. I'm not sure we'll be able to go back to his usual pureed peas and yogurt without protest.

Two minutes before Bry pulled the tablecloth off the table.
OK, not really.
But that would have been funny, no?
After the tragedy had died down.

Thanksgiving buffet.

Me likes turkey!

Bry was also introduced to Thanksgiving day football (the TV is in the distance):

Is my fantasy team winning?

And a toothbrush (I know, bad parents for not brushing his teeth sooner!):

Am I opening wide enough?

We all thought that Bry would be walking before the weekend was out, but he contented himself with doing about 900 laps around the coffee table. He would stand unassisted for long periods, but seemed determined not to take more than a step before crumpling to his knees and crawling off wherever he wanted to go. When we cheered at him to walk he gave us a withering look as if to say, "People, I've figured out the most efficient way to get around, and let me tell you, it ain't walking on my own. Why would I do such a silly thing when I've got you to ferry me about?"

Can't you go any faster, mama?

What Happens at the Doctor's Office...

Bryson seems to be mostly on the mend, though he managed to wake himself up by coughing last night. Daddy stepped up to the plate and stayed up with him for an hour while mama dreamed about sleep. You know you're sleep deprived when the best your addled, dreaming brain can come up with is visions of lying in a soft bed, which you're already doing.

I mention Steve staying up with Bry to counter another recent daddy anecdote that I was recently informed about. Last week Steve took Bry to the pediatrician by himself. The "boys" were on their own that day and didn't have mama there to watch (and possibly correct) their every move. Steve became painfully aware that he had forgotten the diaper bag when, en route to the doctor's office, a particularly pungent aroma wafted in from the back seat. And, as Steve put it, he knew he wasn't the responsible party. Arriving at the doctor's office, he sheepishly asked a nurse if she had a spare diaper. She assured him that forgetting the supplies has happened to many other parents (many other dads?). Steve thanked her and then asked whether doctor-patient confidentiality extended to such circumstances so that his wife wouldn't find out.

Darth Bry*

Bry, sporting his nebulizer get-up:

Don't I look sad?

Send cheese ASAP. Cheese makes everything better.

*Guess who named this post?**
**Yep, Steve.

Bry's Food Pyramid

As we've added more and more solid foods to Bry's diet, he's become more and more clear about his preferences. His list of favorites seems to change on a daily basis however, making mealtime a challenging game of "What will Bry eat today?" Rejected foods get vigorous hand waving and attempts to fish the mushy contents out of his mouth with his fingers. Even though he seems to change his mind often about what is good and what is not, there has been one clear, consistent winner: cheese. I'm pretty sure Bry could eat 3 meals a day of nothing but cheese with a side of cheese and some melted cheese to wash it all down. We try not to fight him on food choices, but that doesn't necessarily preclude acting craftily. Tonight at dinner after Bry refused avocado and sweet potatoes, two of his former favorites, Steve switched to pears (fruit is usually a good bet). After a few spoonfuls, he loaded the spoon with sweet potatoes and then pretended to dip the spoon in the jar of pears. Bry gobbled up the potatoes with gusto. Score one for the parents!

I'll eat your peas. But I'm not gonna like it.

Faking It

Does this look like the face of a kid who's sick?

Not too sick to wear a bowl on your head.

Not too sick to show off your new tooth.
(Bottom right, really.)

Not too sick to play in the wastepaper basket.
(Note: This is a recycling basket - we don't routinely let Bry play in the trash. Only on special occasions.)

Not too sick to, um, wave papers around.

Not too sick to unroll the toilet paper.

Not too sick to drop your cup from the high chair.

I think it's off to school for you, mister. And put that bowl back where it belongs. In the cupboard that you opened! and closed! and opened! and closed!

Heard back from the pediatrician today: Bry does not have RSV, which would have been cause for greater concern. Just an average, run of the mill virus doing its virusy thang. I think you've overstayed your welcome, virus. Time to be moving along now.

Proceeding Undaunted

Second trip to the pediatrician today. If you think you're having a good time, try taking your 10-month-old son to the doctor's office. Sit in a 7 x 7 room for 40 minutes before the doctor comes in. Try not to let your son lick every gross, gross surface in the office. Entertain him with a tongue depressor. Let him crawl from one end of the exam table to the other. Over and over. Have him open and close the door and peek outside adorably. Flirt with the nurses (your son, not you). You don't know good times until you've tried it.

Bryson's oxygen saturation was still low today, making the doctor nervous and me nervouser (it's totally a word). But, after another nebulizer treatment, it skyrocketed back up to normal. The poor little guy was all limp in my arms afterwards. Like it was finally so good just to get some air. Whew. Now we just watch and wait, while using the nebulizer every four hours. Since his numbers looked so good at the end of today's visit, we're off the hook for using it every four hours around the clock. Bry finally slept through last night, after at least a month of waking up 1-6 times during the night. He took a two-hour nap yesterday and an hour and a half nap this morning. I know this is "normal" for kids his age, but compared with his previous sleep habits, this is a godsend.

Other than being a little fussier than usual, Bry is powering it through. He beat his personal best this morning after opening and closing the kitchen cabinet doors about 8000 times. It's hard work, but somebody's got to do it. He's a trouper.

I'm just gonna test the hinges on this door for you.

Hmm, under the table inspection looks OK too.