Ben: Ah gaa goo goo.
Me: You have a very good point.
Ben: Ah gaa goo goo!
Me: You know, maybe that is what the Palestinians should do.
Ben: Ah gaa goo goo.
The previous conversation took place while I was cleaning Ben's poopy diaper, which goes to show you that just because you're in unpleasant circumstances doesn't mean you can't have sophisticated conversation.
Tuesday, April 14, 2009
Monday, April 13, 2009
Rant
If I never have to hear someone say, "That is one under-fed baby!" in jest again, it will be too soon.
We went to my parents' church yesterday for Easter and they got to parade Ben around for all to see. Everybody loved him, but I don't think one single person passed up the chance to comment on his size. Yes, he's a large baby. We know. Trust me, my aching back and knees know.
I realize people are just joking and being a chubby baby isn't the same as being an overweight child or adult. But it makes me feel like they're judging me. I swear, we're feeding him what the doctor recommended. He's just a big kid and always has been.
Oh, and while we're talking about it: Yes, Ben has red hair. No, neither Heath nor I have red hair. Heath has red in his beard and I have some relatives with red hair. Okay? Now we all know.
Maybe I'm just being sensitive, but over seven months of responding to these comments is starting to get on my nerves.
We went to my parents' church yesterday for Easter and they got to parade Ben around for all to see. Everybody loved him, but I don't think one single person passed up the chance to comment on his size. Yes, he's a large baby. We know. Trust me, my aching back and knees know.
I realize people are just joking and being a chubby baby isn't the same as being an overweight child or adult. But it makes me feel like they're judging me. I swear, we're feeding him what the doctor recommended. He's just a big kid and always has been.
Oh, and while we're talking about it: Yes, Ben has red hair. No, neither Heath nor I have red hair. Heath has red in his beard and I have some relatives with red hair. Okay? Now we all know.
Maybe I'm just being sensitive, but over seven months of responding to these comments is starting to get on my nerves.
Thursday, April 9, 2009
Wednesday, April 8, 2009
It's fun to stay at the Y-M-C-A!
I decided to join the YMCA. Though carrying around a 24 pound seven month old is phenomenal for the biceps (I got guns!), it's terrible for the back and knees. I haven't worked out, aside from the occasional walk, since before Ben was born and I'm starting to feel my inactivity. It doesn't feel good.
So this morning was my first trip to the Y. Obviously children aren't allowed in the work out areas, so this entailed dropping Ben off in the on-site child care room. I was actually fairly nervous about it. It was the first time someone other than family or close friends would be caring for Ben, if only for an hour. I even had a dream last night about one of the workers dropping him. However, when it came time to leave him in the room I had no problem. Even despite the fact that the workers are both old women and when I walked in they had four or five infants in their care, one of whom was screaming.
I've never been one who likes to exercise. It's a chore to me. Something to be done to keep myself healthy, but to be done as quickly and painlessly as possible. So when I realized I was almost done on my machine, I couldn't believe how quickly it'd gone by. I think it's because I was actually sort of enjoying myself. Not the exercise, exactly, but the fact that I was sans baby and doing something for myself. So much of what I do on a daily basis isn't only for me. Sure, doing laundry or cooking dinner benefits me, but it's also for Heath and Ben. Working out was for me only and it allowed me to be Katie. Not wife or mother, but just Katie. It felt good.
When I went to pick Ben up he was alive and not even crying, so it was a success! I'm still a tad nervous about those women holding him, just because he's so heavy, but they were very nice. Hopefully Ben liked it in there, because we're definitely going back.
So this morning was my first trip to the Y. Obviously children aren't allowed in the work out areas, so this entailed dropping Ben off in the on-site child care room. I was actually fairly nervous about it. It was the first time someone other than family or close friends would be caring for Ben, if only for an hour. I even had a dream last night about one of the workers dropping him. However, when it came time to leave him in the room I had no problem. Even despite the fact that the workers are both old women and when I walked in they had four or five infants in their care, one of whom was screaming.
I've never been one who likes to exercise. It's a chore to me. Something to be done to keep myself healthy, but to be done as quickly and painlessly as possible. So when I realized I was almost done on my machine, I couldn't believe how quickly it'd gone by. I think it's because I was actually sort of enjoying myself. Not the exercise, exactly, but the fact that I was sans baby and doing something for myself. So much of what I do on a daily basis isn't only for me. Sure, doing laundry or cooking dinner benefits me, but it's also for Heath and Ben. Working out was for me only and it allowed me to be Katie. Not wife or mother, but just Katie. It felt good.
When I went to pick Ben up he was alive and not even crying, so it was a success! I'm still a tad nervous about those women holding him, just because he's so heavy, but they were very nice. Hopefully Ben liked it in there, because we're definitely going back.
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.
Me: Aww, he's just trying to give you a kiss and say he loves you.
My mom: Yeah, but he's using tongue.
Tuesday, April 7, 2009
Ben's first hurling match
Colin & Ben. Colin said that Ben looked, "awesome."
Ben's proud of Daddy even if his team loses.
Babbling Ben
Ben's been practicing his babbling lately and it's becoming a little more sophisticated. Now instead of only seemingly random strings of vowel sounds, occasionally he adds in seemingly random strings of consonant-vowel sounds, i.e. ga-ga, da-da. It's mostly "ga" and "da" right now. I think those are the easiest letters to pronounce.
Do you think baby babbling has any correlation with how much a person talks later in life? If so, we're going to have a talkative little kid on our hands. Saturday night at Ian's surprise party* it seemed like he was babbling the entire time. He does do it more around other people, I've noticed. Maybe I'm not getting another one for my team. *sigh*
*It was a rousing success! He was completely surprised and his face turned bright red when they walked in. It was great.
Do you think baby babbling has any correlation with how much a person talks later in life? If so, we're going to have a talkative little kid on our hands. Saturday night at Ian's surprise party* it seemed like he was babbling the entire time. He does do it more around other people, I've noticed. Maybe I'm not getting another one for my team. *sigh*
*It was a rousing success! He was completely surprised and his face turned bright red when they walked in. It was great.
Monday, April 6, 2009
Closer to the Ben
When I was pregnant, one of the things I was looking forward to the most was seeing Heath as a father. I haven't been disappointed. From day one he jumped right in and embraced fatherhood. In my opinion, women are no more "naturally" parental than men, so Heath and I learned how to do everything for Ben right along side each other. We both bathe him, feed him, change his diapers, put him to sleep, etc. As a result, Heath doesn't "babysit" his child, like some men, but he simply cares for him as a parent should. Whenever I'm out and Heath is with Ben, it doesn't even occur to me to call and check on them, because I know they're fine.
Though Heath likes to whirl Ben around and throw him up in the air, he's also very gentle and kind. It breaks his heart to hear Ben cry and I've found them taking naps together on dozens of occasions. He talks to Ben constantly and every song he sings gets "Ben" inserted in an interesting place. Imagine, "Row, row, row your Ben, gently down the Ben..." I'd give more examples, but they're mostly Rush songs, so nobody would know them (ha!).
But the thing that proves Heath is a great father doesn't even come from Heath. Every night when he comes home from work, Ben and I go to the door to greet him. As soon as Ben sees his daddy he gets the hugest grin on his face. He is obviously overjoyed to see Heath and to me that says it all.
Though Heath likes to whirl Ben around and throw him up in the air, he's also very gentle and kind. It breaks his heart to hear Ben cry and I've found them taking naps together on dozens of occasions. He talks to Ben constantly and every song he sings gets "Ben" inserted in an interesting place. Imagine, "Row, row, row your Ben, gently down the Ben..." I'd give more examples, but they're mostly Rush songs, so nobody would know them (ha!).
But the thing that proves Heath is a great father doesn't even come from Heath. Every night when he comes home from work, Ben and I go to the door to greet him. As soon as Ben sees his daddy he gets the hugest grin on his face. He is obviously overjoyed to see Heath and to me that says it all.
Thursday, April 2, 2009
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.
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.
Bink-ified
Yesterday Ben came down with his second cold in a month. Like the first one, it doesn't seem to be too bad, just a stuffy nose and some coughing and sneezing. But, combined with teething pain, it makes sleeping very difficult. For everyone.
Heath put Ben to bed last night around 8, as usual, but he didn't go down easily. He woke up two or three times before 9:30 and I just knew it was going to be a bad night. I wish I wasn't right all the time.
The problem is the binky. He's become completely dependent on it to fall asleep. In some ways that's good, because most of the time when he wakes up at night I can just pop it back in his mouth and he's asleep again. However, when his nose is stuffed up, it poses a problem. Mainly in the fact that he can't BREATH.
I tried to get him to sleep without it last night and I was successful. I just would've had to hold him in the rocking chair all night. I was having major flashbacks, though. Rocking him in my arms at 2 am, feeling triumphant when he fell asleep and then feeling utter despair when, immediately upon his head hitting the mattress, his eyes popped open. Eventually I brought him into our bed, because I wouldn't get any sleep if I didn't. As it was I got very little. I did get to witness Ben sucking on the binky, pulling it out to breath and then putting it back in. We have raised a binky addict.
Heath put Ben to bed last night around 8, as usual, but he didn't go down easily. He woke up two or three times before 9:30 and I just knew it was going to be a bad night. I wish I wasn't right all the time.
The problem is the binky. He's become completely dependent on it to fall asleep. In some ways that's good, because most of the time when he wakes up at night I can just pop it back in his mouth and he's asleep again. However, when his nose is stuffed up, it poses a problem. Mainly in the fact that he can't BREATH.
I tried to get him to sleep without it last night and I was successful. I just would've had to hold him in the rocking chair all night. I was having major flashbacks, though. Rocking him in my arms at 2 am, feeling triumphant when he fell asleep and then feeling utter despair when, immediately upon his head hitting the mattress, his eyes popped open. Eventually I brought him into our bed, because I wouldn't get any sleep if I didn't. As it was I got very little. I did get to witness Ben sucking on the binky, pulling it out to breath and then putting it back in. We have raised a binky addict.
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