We've got spirit!

Yes we do! That's 'cause Jim and I are big joiners.
Well, I am anyway.

So when Scott's daycare announced that they had organized a week long "Spirit Week," I was eager to participate...or rather, have Scott participate.

Each day featured a different theme, and Scott was decked out in grand fashion. See for yourself:

MONDAY: Sports Team Day (He looked so cute, representing both Mommy and Daddy's alma mater, I had to post two pics!)

TUESDAY: Hawaiian Day

(Scott wasn't feeling particularly cooperative.)

WEDNESDAY: Crazy Hair/Hat Day. (Seriously, this one was my absolute favorite. There was no way I was putting a hat on Scott when I had such beautiful natural curls to work with.)

THURSDAY: Decade Day. (No picture of this one, sadly. But Scott was sporting his "Wingman" shirt - an ode to one of my all time 80s movies - Top Gun!)


FRIDAY: Pajama Day. (This shot was taken after Tank came home...while he was "helping" me make my husband's birthday cake. And yes, I did remember to put the pajama bottoms on him when I brought him to school.)

Embracing the sippy

Sadly, I have neglected my poor little blog these past weeks.
August has been crazy - and being in the final days of the big countdown to Scott's 1st Birthday hasn't helped. For those keeping track...we're one week away. It's crunch time people.

But lest you all think Scott has failed to provide me with material for a new post...here's a brief update:

About three months ago Jim and I took the big step of introducing our Tank to the sippy cup, based on our pediatrician's recommendation. She warned he might not take to it right away, but said giving it to him early -- with a bit of water at meal and snack times -- might allow him to get used to it slowly.

Slowly, as it turned out, was an understatement. Turtles grasp new tasks more quickly. Of course, in Tank's case, I think it was pure stubborness.

Scott was quick to drink out of the cup, but only if Jim or I held it up to his mouth. If left to his own devices, he flung the sippy over his head, across the room, or used it as a makeshift drum/noisemaker on his high chair tray.

Weeks passed. We spent a small fortune on learner cups, cups with straws, cups with handles, cups without straws and without handles, cups shaped like bottles. At one point I think we had seven different sippys in the house.

If one didn't work, I put it in the back of the cabinet, and tried another - usually to no avail.

As Scott approached his first birthday, our desire to get him to even TRY to use the sippy cup increased. With daycare moving him to the toddler room, it became even more urgent to make some marked progress - Tank is the youngest one there, and the only one still using the bottle.

So like all good mommies these days, I turned to social networking. The general consensus on Facebook was to either switch him cold turkey or try a sippy with a soft/silicone spout, since that is most similar to the bottle.

As luck would have it, we had one - back from when we first bought out the sippy cup store. I gave it to Scott, and he instantly threw his head back and drank -- like a natural.
Fast forward a week, and he now routinely downs 5 oz of milk or water from one of three or four rotating cups with ease.

Yay Scott!

Of course...he still reverts occasionally.

Eleven Months Old!!!

Really?
How in the hell did that happen?

I am counting down to Scott's first birthday with a mixture of unbridled excitement and, yes...if I am honest, just a little bit of dread.

How is my baby so big already? He's talking nonstop (not that we can always understand him); he's learning to point and follows our lead when we point at something; he's trying to pull himself up without holding on to something and he loves making a mess at mealtime.

(Although, I could live without his new habit of constantly changing what he likes to eat. He'll enjoy it one week and then, a week later, reject what we thought was his a favorite food. (The one exception: soup. He will always eat that!!!)

Scott's oddly strong, he's growing like a weed, he is apparently loving being with the big kids in the toddler room at the daycare...and I think he looks like a little man.

I have an old friend in Fort Worth who once told me, "you will never know your capacity to love until you have a child."

On a purely logical level, what he said made sense, but I didn't really understand how true that statement was until I was blessed enough to have Scott enter my life.

He makes a bad day better, and puts a smile on my face whenever I see him, and I burst with pride over all of his accomplishments - great and small.

Happy 11 month birthday Tank!! Mommy and Daddy love you!!

This month's winning photo:

And a couple of my favorite outtakes:

Hello Dear Mr. Bear, I will lure you into my good graces with my soft touch and sweet whisperings.

Word. Two old pals, chillaxin and hanging out.

Step back, Mr. Bear. This photo shoot is all about me!!

Those things on your feet are called "shoes"

What do you mean I can't walk around barefoot for the rest of my life?

That was how I interpreted the look Scott gave me this afternoon when I took him to Stride-Rite to purchase his first pair of shoes.

He's technically "owned" footwear prior to this point - we got a couple of pairs of sandals as gifts, but he refused to let me even put them on.

But he now HAS to have shoes, because the big kids in his daycare toddler room go outside to play. Can't run around on the playground in socks or bare feet.  So for about 15 minutes, twice a day, he needs shoes.

I spent some time researching the whole "baby first shoe" thing on the internet this past week, asking my sister and a couple of friends about the best brands for the "early-walker" set.

I ended up at Stride Rite based on its reputation and the fact that it was a mere three minutes from my house (especially key given it was close to Scott's nap time when we went.)

I rolled Scott in in his stroller, and told the clerk we needed a pair of shoes. She takes one look at my Tank and goes, "How old is he? I assume he's walking?"

Me: "10 1/2 months, and no."

Her: "Oh, he's a big boy - and wow, he's got wide feet!"

Me: "Yes, I know - and okay then."

With that discourse out of the way, we then had the fun task of coaxing Scott on to the foot measuring plate - a process he did not enjoy.

The verdict? A size 5W.

The store had about six pair to choose from. I narrowed it to two, automatically eliminating anything with laces. No way he was going to sit still long enough for me to actually tie something on to his feet. I was prepared to buy both -- until I saw the prices, and learned that this wonderful new accessory was going to last maybe 2-3 months before he outgrew them.

You've got to be kidding me. 

These prices ARE ridiculous mommy, but I am worth it, right?

Where is that sales woman? Doesn't she know its considered "bad form" to keep her pint-sized customers waiting?

Anyway, with some more coaxing and nudging we got the darned things on Scott's feet, although he was none too happy about wearing them at first.

These things feel like blocks. Me no like.

Take it easy, would ya lady? I am still mastering this whole "walking" skill!

But moments later he spied a toy on a wall (that a three or four year old was playing with, mind you), and he was off. He crawled right over to it, and pulled himself up directly in front of it, effectively knocking the bigger (and most surprised) interloper out of the way.

Then he gave me a big grin. Shoes good!

And so we have Tank's first pair of footwear. Brown, with red and blue on them. (Yes, mommy was trying to cover all colors in Scott's wardrobe, because, at these prices, we were only getting ONE PAIR.)

We can talk about expanding our collection once the kid is actually walking.

Scott's first shoes!!!

Scott the Bruiser

So I went to pick up Scott from daycare today, and was greeted with this note on the infant classroom bulletin board:

Moving to Room 2 (Toddler):
Scott Rough - 8/15 (parent notification letter not yet sent)

Umm...whaat?

How could my Tank possibly be headed to the big kid toddler room in a mere two weeks? It was my understanding the babies didn't "graduate" until they were at least 12-13 months old AND walking.

Scott is neither, though he tries - a lot - on the walking part. And he will be only 11-months-old when he moves up.

I said as much to Scott's teacher when I saw the note. She tactfully and kindly explained to me that Scott was now one of the older babies in his classroom. There are, she admitted, a couple who are older, but his teachers thought "he was more ready than they are" to head next door.

Hmmm. I called Jim, and not surprisingly, he was thrilled with this news. I believe his exact response went something like "hahahahahahaha. That's MY boy!"

Okay then.

I took this unexpected development a little harder.

I think it's because (and I am blatantly stealing from my friend Meghan's blog here, because frankly she expressed it perfectly in a recent post) I still mentally picture Scott like this:

In mommy's mind, I am still a two month old with a binky. Seriously mom?!?!?

But in reality, he looks like this:

Yes. This is me. The big kid. Get used to it.

And even though Scott has lately been exhibiting all the signs of early onset toddler behavior, I still wondered if he would be able to keep up with a group of kids mostly between 14 and 18 months of age.

I expressed this concern out loud to Miss Hannah.

Her response?

"Don't worry. He's a tough kid. He can definitely hold his own."

Hmmm... Is it me, or does that sound like my Tank might be a non-stop force of destruction who is climbing over or knocking aside anything and anyone in his path?

For the record, Miss Hannah also didn't contradict me when I (somewhat jokingly) said, "So basically you're saying my kid is the diesel engine in the infant room?"

She just laughed and handed me Scott and then my diaper bag.

And so to the toddler room we go.

Some advice: 'Crawl quickly, pull things off shelves and bang a big wooden spoon as loud as you can, and you too can leave those little babies behind."

Invasion of the baby-snatchers

Maybe I've just been watching a bit too much of TNT's "Falling Skies" lately (great show, by the way), but I am starting to become convinced some multi-legged "skitter-like" alien being has swapped out my son for a new-not-quite-the-same-version.

Oh - my kid is still in there somewhere. I see flashes of him - the chill, smiling, giggling, always angelic baby who will happily sit by himself with a cup and a wooden spoon or any other noise-making instrument and play without complaint.

But I am starting to get glimpses of a much more willful Scott - and they are coming with far greater frequency than I would like.


First problem: Scott is in a major mommy phase. He wants to be touching me, climbing on me or in my arms constantly. It's flattering, but exhausting. It's also extremely hurtful to Jim. If Scott doesn't get what he wants (me), he throws himself into an utter, screaming baby meltdown temper tantrum.

Second problem: We are whiny. All of us. Jim and I are whining (me, publicly, here in this blog)  because Scott is whiny. He is suddenly very emotional. He cries when we leave the room, even if its just to go to the bathroom for like half a minute. Doesn't matter if he was belly-laughing 20 seconds earlier. If we plunk him down in his pak n play, or his crib, or his high chair, and he can't see us, he FREAKS OUT. Sometimes he even laughs and cries at the same time.

Third problem: My kid is freakishly strong. And he is exerting his newly discovered strength and independence to the point where it feels like I am engaged in a daily, ongoing wrestling match.
Diaper changing has suddenly turned into an utter nightmare. He squirms, he twists, he flips over on to his stomach, climbs onto his knees. I am afraid if I am going to hurt him if I pin him down, but he fights me so much that I have no other choice.

This latest hand-to-hand combat/back-flipping/I-am-the-strongest-baby-on-earth-and-will-prove-it-to-you-tendency has made everything more difficult. Scott won't sit still for a bedtime story. He swats and pushes our hands away when we try to brush his teeth, he writhes on the floor when we try to put sunscreen or swim trunks on him. And forget going near him with a spoon full of baby food when he's tired. I've been cleaning sweet potatoes off the floor, the mini-blinds and the wine cabinet behind him for days now.

Seriously, who is this kid, and where is my easy-going Tank?

On some level, I get it: who wants to lie on their back -- even just for a short time -- when they can crawl and stand and cruise the furniture??

And I know it's got to be extremely irritating not to be able to talk and convey your frustration about naptime, mommy's poor choice of bed-time story or the fact neither of your parents is nice enough to let you play with that little spoon while they shovel nasty-tasting purees into your mouth.

If I couldn't talk, I'd go stark, raving mad. And this is my child after all. So I feel for him.

But I feel for me and my husband more.

One of my friends just told me to brace myself. "Welcome to toddlerhood," were her sage words of wisdom.

Gulp. Toddlerhood? Scott's not yet 11-months-old. Shouldn't I get a six-month ramp-up period before I have to deal with a toddler? I was kind of just thinking I had this whole baby thing figured out.

 Damn.

Don't be fooled by that angelic face. He's smirking on the inside and plotting against you. Really.

Tapping into others' creativity

It would be untrue to say I just began thinking about Scott's first birthday.
I've been toying with ideas since he was six months old.

But now that Tank is a mere six weeks away from the big 1.0, I need to kick into high gear.

I've been on furlough all week, and while I haven't gotten nearly as much accomplished as I had hoped, I have made progress on The Scott Rough First Birthday Extravaganza.

I have a color scheme, I have a theme, I have invitations and a cake design. Yes, I am one of THOSE moms. The kind that goes waayy over the top for her kid's first birthday.

What I don't have is a creative bone in my body. At least not THAT kind. You know the artsy-fartsy, hand-makes cute little signs and cupcake toppers and decorations and pulls everything together in a jaw-dropping, awe-inspiring, "this is so adorable" kind of way.

Ok, so that Lego party is beyond ridiculously awesome. But you get my point. I didn't get that gene.

My sister has it, as evidenced by the first-birthday blowout she threw her daughter in January. (Nope, no sibling rivalry here...nothing to live up to at all, and yes, she made all that stuff herself.)

(As an aside: I am particularly fond of the way she tells off all the naysayers in her blog:)

"I admit it. I am one of "those" moms who went a teensy bit overboard for her daughter's first birthday. "She'll never remember it." "Is this party for her, or for you?" Blah blah blah. I say, this is the only first birthday party for my first child I will ever throw. So if I want to fly fresh monkey tail flowers in from Hawaii, I can. And all you naysayers can suck it."


Well put, Kristy.

So anyway, I have been in a bit of a quandry. How do you throw a fabulous birthday party for your kid when you aren't creative enough to do it on your own?

Fortunately, for all you non-creative-types like me, I am here to say it can be done.

I have Google, and as a reporter, I have gotten pretty darn good at research and become very immune to asking questions that give away the fact that I am clueless. It simply no longer bothers me if someone thinks I am an idiot. 'Explain it to me like I am a 2-year-old,' I often say.

My sister told me about this amazing site called Etsy.com. It's like ebay, but for Martha Stewart-y types. After much trolling, I found a fabulous woman who custom designed all of the "paper products" for Scott's first birthday party. I gave her the theme I wanted to work with, and she created invitations, thank you notes, a birthday banner, yard signs, food labels...all that cutesy fun stuff. And the best part? It was dirt cheap.

She sent everything over to me via email in PDF form.

Of course I had no idea what to do with what these crafts-y folks call "DIY printables" (Do it yourself printables), but after peppering her with questions, I discovered it was all quite easy really.

I simply took the PDFs she sent me, uploaded them on to Kinko's website, told them I wanted them printed in color and 110 lb cardstock, and voila! a few hours later, picked up instant invitations and other items.

Now granted, I am still going to have to do some serious work. The birthday banner, for example, is actually all the different letter components on different pages of cardstock that I need to cut out and string together (I am guessing using ribbon and a hole punch, but am not really sure).

And I need other decorations - balloons, maybe the pom pons my sister used, I don't know, really. Food, games, etc.

I do know I won't be able to do it on my own. But I also have no shame. I've got a mother with a party-planning business, (who has already sent me a slew of ideas for centerpieces and table decor) the aforementioned craft-genius sister, and a mother-in-law who is coming in early to help set up for this not-so-understated event.

Between the four of us, I am sure we will be able to pull it all together.

My husband, in the meantime, just rolls his eyes. But luckily for me, he's keeping his opinions (somewhat) to himself and indulging my lunacy.

Scott, meanwhile, appears totally oblivious. But I am sure he'll appreciate all my hard work on the big day.