Happy Mother's Day!

To the women who raised us and put up with our shit (that's more for Heath's mom):

Thank you. We love you.

Reunion

Last Thursday through Sunday Heath and I were in Indianapolis attending GenCon. It's a gaming convention where people get together and play board games, card games, video games and role playing games. We met our friends Arianne and Jeff there and had a blast hanging out all weekend, playing games and meeting some idols.

While Mommy and Daddy had a weekend away, Ben stayed with Oma and Opa. The last time we'd been away from him this long was in November, when we went to Hawaii. He was only 14 months old at the time and though he did fine while we were gone, after we got back he held a little grudge against all the grandparents. So it's no surprise my mother was a little concerned that the same thing would happen again.

When we walked in the door on Sunday afternoon Ben's face scrunched up and he started to cry. My mother was quick to say, "This is the first time he's cried all weekend!" He seemed unable to run over to us, but when I knelt down next to him he threw his arms around me and held on for dear life. I was exhausted from the weekend and happy to see him and very happy that he didn't push me away in favor of Heath, so I joined him with some crying of my own.

For me, missing Ben is a novelty. I'm with him so much that I never have the chance. We're more like college roommates living in a tiny dorm room. We have days we're the best of friends and we have days we're on each other's last nerve. And I have to admit, I didn't miss Ben much this weekend. I was glad to be away, doing something I wanted to do, doing something fun for me. And I know Ben had fun, too. Who can resist a weekend of being spoiled by your grandparents? But in the end, the best part of a trip is always coming home. Though that doesn't mean I won't go next year!

I'm including this picture not because it has anything to do with Ben, but because it is freaking awesome:

 Me & Wil Wheaton

Rules were made to be broken

A few weeks ago when I went to the first of my many dentist appointments this month, my mom watched Ben. I had to leave before he woke from his morning nap, so I was afraid he might freak out when he discovered I wasn't there. However, Mom said he was fine and even smiled at her. For some reason she's always surprised that he likes her, despite the fact that she lavishes attention and presents on him.

After lunch they were playing in the living room and smarty pants Ben decided he would test some boundaries. We don't allow him to touch the fireplace*, but Mom didn't know that. So he approached and started banging on it. Then every few seconds he would stop and look at her, to check her reaction. When he wasn't reprimanded he would bang away in joy. Mom said when he looked back at her he had a twinkle in his eye, because he knew he was getting away with something. I suppose that was his first lesson in how to manipulate his grandparents. Step 1: Be cute. Step 3: Profit!

However, Mommy and Daddy aren't so easily persuaded. The fireplace rule persists, but that doesn't stop Ben from testing it. He knows his hands are off limits, but what about toys? Can he bang toys on the fireplace? Nope, apparently not. How about a ladle? Okay, no. A stuffed animal? Wow, still no? How about if I lick it, is that okay? No? Come on! You guys are total fascists!

Heath delights in Ben's creativity and craftiness and I have to admit it is amusing. He's already applying the scientific method to his life. One day he will crack the code of the fireplace!


*It's a gas fireplace which is totally enclosed, so he couldn't actually hurt himself on it, but we don't want him in the habit of playing with fireplaces.

You are what you (don't) eat

Despite the subject line, Ben's getting a little, tiny bit better about eating solid foods. I've figured out that he doesn't like small pieces, such as Cheerio's or puffs or any of the other thousands of baby snacks I've purchased for him. He can't pick them up very well and even when he tries to get them into his mouth, they end up in the palm of his hand and he's left chewing on fingers.

So, I've started giving him teething biscuits and he seems to like those. He drools and chomps and makes a complete mess and in the process some of it gets down his throat. Snack time in this house is closely followed by changing clothes time. He also liked playing with/eating/obliterating long pieces of string cheese.

Today I actually got him to eat some of a spaghetti meal. He liked the sauce and then when I started including bigger pieces on the spoon he didn't immediately spit them out. Of course eventually he started spitting them out, but around here that's a victory.

And yesterday my mother fulfilled some of her grandmotherly duties by feeding Ben his first frozen yogurt from Ben & Jerry's. After each bite he made a weird face, like he wasn't so sure about it, but he was quick to open up his mouth again, lest we think he didn't want more.

So we're getting there, just very, very slowly. We've almost caught up to that tortoise.

Maybe if he'd bought her dinner first

My mom: Your son is trying to french kiss me.

Me: Aww, he's just trying to give you a kiss and say he loves you.

My mom: Yeah, but he's using tongue.

Our mothers keep us honest

My most recent post, Bink-ified, generated this comment from my mother, "I'm sorry my dear, but this one made me laugh out loud. You, of all people, raising a binky addict? Shocking! At least he can't be snotty with women at Target about it yet!"

The reason for the comment is that I used a binky until I was 5. Apparently it was quite difficult* to break me of that habit. However, it did lead to the following anecdote, which my grandmother delights in telling anyone who will listen:

When I was 4 or 5 my grandmother had taken me to Target and of course I had my trusty binky. We were walking along and suddenly an old woman said to me, "You're too old for a pacifier." Apparently I looked at her, took the binky out of my mouth and very indignantly said, "I need it." Then I popped it back in. My grandmother said she never worried about me after that because she knew I could take care of myself.

Hopefully Ben won't have the binky that long, but it would be funny to see him tell off an old lady.


*My parents and grandparents may disagree with that wording and have something more colorful to substitute.

Aha moment

Six months in, I think I've adjusted to motherhood pretty well. But every so often I get hit with a realization about it that just stops me in my tracks. The other day I had the thought, "I am someone's mother."

And right about now YOU'RE thinking, "Yeah, no kidding. Are you hitting the Valium already, Katie?"

But it's not just about giving birth and caring for a baby... It's about all the things attached to the idea of "mother." All the stuff people blame on their mothers, or credit to their mothers. All the stories they tell about how their mothers affected them or warped them or ruined them. It's mind boggling that now I am that person to someone.

I think I was a pretty good kid. I always got up on time, I did my homework without being badgered and for the most part I followed the rules. Even so, I realize now there were things I did and said to my mother that were awful and ungrateful. The thought of Ben doing or saying those things to me, after all I've done and will do for him, breaks my heart. Then I feel even worse because I've probably broken my own mother's heart.

I suppose that's just something you have to live with as a mother, knowing that your kids won't "get it" until they have kids of their own. By then you're probably over it and you can gain satisfaction by wallowing in their guilt and spoiling their children.

Hallelujah!

Do you hear it? The choir of angels on high? Or maybe you can see our house bathed in heavenly light.

Because at age 5 months and 5 days, Benjamin Hal finally slept through the night!!!!!!!!!! (Yes, that requires 10 exclamation points.) We didn't hear a peep out of him until 6:08am.

Last night my parents (a.k.a. Oma & Opa) watched Ben while Heath and I went to a movie. I don't know what kind of a voodoo spell they put on him, but I need that recipe! A movie and a baby who sleeps through the night?! I feel like I've won the lottery.

I am under no illusions that this will be a permanent situation. I fully expect that tonight he'll go back to his wakeful ways. But now we know he can do it. We have proof. And you know how babies always relent in the face of logic and proof.