Sleeping Beauty

Fiber Deficiency?

"How are you socks supposed to keep your toes warm if they are in your mouth?"

I said that a lot yesterday.

I never used to put socks on him. Didn't see the point in warm muggy weather. But in the last 2 weeks it has been cold, and whenever his clothes don't have feet, I've been pulling on some fuzzy socks.

He's been pulling them off.

He almost seems enraged by them, grunting and yelling until they are off his feet. He pulls them off with his teeth, then he wads them up and puts them in his mouth.

Yum.

This leaves me with a dilemma. Naked toes or wet socks?

Doesn't matter what I decide because as soon as I turn my back, naked toes prevail.

Bravery

Cold weather has come early to Pittsburgh, as, I suppose, it is to the rest of the country.

I was driving home from work, cold rain on the windshield, thinking about whether I would make it to day care on time and petulantly contemplating the failure of my car heater to adequately warm my toes in the completely non-sensible shoes I was wearing.

That's when I saw her.

A determined mom pushing a stroller full of groceries with one hand, holding an umbrella with the other, and carrying on her chest a blanket covered baby carrier with a little pair of pink fleece feet swinging as she walked.

I was struck by how much strength it took this woman to decide to go out in the weather, shield her child from the elements, in the pursuit of getting food for her family. I could feel the agony of needing things and yet worrying with every step about keeping her fragile baby safe. I wondered how she would be able to get everything on and off the bus. I wondered if she had anyone to help her out at home.

There are things in my life that are hard, but my day to day activities are so blessed. I go to the market in a car that affords me the luxury of wearing strappy shoes in freezing rain. My baby is always warm and dry unless I screw up. My husband carries the groceries.

His Four Front Teeth

To the tune of "Come out and play with me" (click for original words and music)

Oh, Mr. Toothbrush, come out and play with me
and brush my little teeth
and make them so shiny.

We brush the front sides,
we brush the back sides too,
and we'll have shiny teeth, forevermore
One, two, three, four.

Over the last four months I have taken care of two children, one 7 years old and one 3 years old, who had to have almost all of their teeth removed prior to starting chemotherapy because the horrifying contents of their mouth posed too large an infection risk to an immunocompromised patient.
Neither family felt too strongly about oral hygiene.
One father sort of shrugged and said he figured she'd get new teeth anyway.
The other father told me he just felt it wasn't worth the fight. He did seem embarrassed that a pair of college educated medical professionals had let their child get into this state.
I also watched an infant with hemophilia spend time in the ICU with bleeding complications after having all his rotten baby teeth removed.

So, I wrote Nathan a toothbrushing song.
Twice a day, in the morning and at bedtime, I brush his teeth.
Nathan likes the song and doesn't mind the brushing at all.
Dave had to learn the words because he garnered some furrowed brow confusion from Nathan when he tried to make up his own version.

It's just a little fingerbrush, but it's setting a precedent and forming a routine. When he's one and two and beyond this will just be something he's always done. I don't pretend that we will never argue about it, that he'll never refuse or pout or moan, or that we'll never a skip a night 'cause we're late or a morning 'cause we're late for school. Still, I will not have a baby/toddler/child with rotten teeth or a mouthful of silver when a little parental attention can go so far to prevent it.

His teeth, though troublemakers, are so darn cute now, and I am looking forward to playing tooth fairy and tucking those tiny pearly whites away in a keepsake box. I have to polish my future jewels and keep them blemish free.

Gimme, gimme

Nathan is talking to us.
Sort of.

The last two days have been the best of the last 2 weeks because I have been able to leave the hospital at 5pm, pick my boy up from day care and spend the evening with him. Last night I watched him swim with his dad and fed him a huge and varied dinner. (Who doesn't like roasted butternut squash with cinnamon sugar? And Cheerios?!?) Tonight we played and sang and snuggled.

And he talked to me.

At first I didn't realize he was doing it. I was carrying him around getting his dinner ready and he was waving his right hand. Fist closed. Hand going up and down and up and down and up and down. Pediatrician-mommy was starting to think he was having a partial seizure. I fed him some dinner and cleaned him up and palyed on the floor with him. The whole time he was intermittently waving that little fist.
Fist wave. Food in mouth.
Fist wave. Crawl into Mommy's lap.
Fist wave. Rubber duck into mouth.
Fist wave. Belly scoot over to music cube.

And I still didn't get it.
But finally, I wised up.
Dave and I were sitting on the floor eating dinner and to distract Nathan from our oh-so-attractive bowls of pasta I brought out a bag of Cheerios.
Wave, wave, wave went the fist as he lunged at the bag with mouth open.

Light bulb above Mommy's head.
Ah Hah! He's trying to tell me something!

The path through Mommyhood is paved with good intentions, but I never have managed to buy that book on baby sign. I have made an earnest effort to teach him "more" and "all done", the signs I know, but the fist wave was new to me. It was also news to me that the ladies at day care try to teach them baby sign, a fact that Dave confirmed.

We had to look it up, but we found out it's the sign for "milk". To Nathan, however, it seems to be the sign for "give me that please". Or just "gimme".

I am thrilled that my boy is talking to me.

He's so smart!!!

His Two Front Teeth

Nathan has four front teeth. He cut his two bottom teeth simultaneously at 5 months old. At 7 months the bottom two popped through on the same day. He took teething with the same equanimity he takes everything else. He didn't fuss or sleep badly. He chewed like mad on his rubber ducks. And fingers. But that was about it.

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I was looking at Nathan's little teeth and it struck me that they seem awfully small. He will have these teeth until he is in elementary school. They have to chew up all the food he needs to nourish his little growing body and brain. They have to shine in his charming little smile for years. No doubt they'll be tools in fiendish 4 year old projects. He already uses them to balance himself when he is pulling up on his cruising toy. They've been used to scrape onion and crack Cheerios. All that work for such tiny little teeth in my big boy's jaw.

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He has the "Lamb space" - a largish gap between the top two teeth, passed from my Dad through me and into my little Beaver-Bunny.

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The top two teeth may prove to be the end of breastfeeding. It is physiologically impossible for a nursing baby to bite with bottom teeth while actually eating. The tongue forms a nice little barrier. When the top ones come in, however, all bets are off. He bit me once, experimentally, when he had only bottom teeth. He didn't do it again until he had two top teeth so he could trap my tender tissue between two razor-sharp, steel-hard, crushing-cutting implements. There were two problems. One was the bleeding lesion. The other, more egregious, problem was that my loud, fierce, soul-rending "NO" caused my little darling to start, stare at me for an instant, and then giggle. After all, the "make-a-funny-loud-noise" game is one he loves, being an adrenaline junkie. It seems I will have to find another biting deterrent, but it's hard to think rationally when I am suppressing the urge to toss him away and whimper. So far, I am perservering, but I am a little nervous every time I bare flesh for the newly minted vampire I am raising.

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Looks like he could be getting molars for Christmas.