Binkytowne

The long and short of it

Ashton Kutcher is not my favorite flavor, but I will acknowledge he is easy on the eyes. Remember how one day he was looking good? His hair long and wavy, framing his face as he was swashbuckling a woman old enough to be his mother? He was Ashton. Young and hot and sassy.

Then remember when he showed up one day, having cut all his hair off for some movie and he looked like a 40 year old who should be wearing a suit and like his name wasn't Ashton, but something like Mike, carrying a briefcase to his office job?

We went for haircut #2 this weekend. It was traumatic. Hair flying everywhere, a screaming toddler desperately trying to escape my arms, which were pinning down his. An Italian barber who couldn't say more than "OK OK", which to me signaled we were done, but to him simply translated: Stop that child from wiggling of I'm going to cut his ear off.  Twenty minutes of this, the barber squirting my son in the head with his water bottle and my son a complete mess with snot and hair all over his face I said ENOUGH!

Looking down at all that beautiful golden (it's really golden, I'm not exaggerating) hair covering my black pants made me more than a little sick. I kept looking at him in my rear view mirror driving home and cringing. Oh how I loved to sweep his locks to the side with my fingers, brushing them away from his face, admiring the curve of his forehead, the way the fine hair, the silky undergrowth along the hairline was platinum blond, kissed by the sun.    

Now he looks like he's 40, OK, he doesn't look 40 but he does look like he's 4. I'm not down with that look. I know, it's hair, it grows back, yadda yadda. No more italian barbers! No more male barbers in grown up barbershops! I'm going to find a mommy somewhere who cuts hair at a kids salon who will know what it means when I say not too short. Who will understand that translates to: Please don't take my little boy away from me. Please don't let him get discovered modeling underwear and marry a hot movie star as old as me and pull pranks on people on TV for kicks.

At least, not until he's 40.

Pssst. Pass it on. Couch cushions. 5 o'clock.

  Should I be worried about this? All of his matchbox cars parked in the cushions of my couch, forward facing? Is this exploratory or just......anal?

Pssst. Pass it on. Couch cushions. 5 o'clock.

  Should I be worried about this? All of his matchbox cars parked in the cushions of my couch, forward facing? Is this exploratory or just......anal?

Day Care Blues

The boy is just over 16 months now. I usually write a monthly recap and I did again this month, but I didn't publish it because it was WAY to mushy-gushy. Here's the abridged version:

This month has been the greatest month ever. My momma dreams have come true because I love you more than I could have ever imagined and this month you started to love me back, for real. For all the words I read you, repeat to you, all the questions I ask you and answer for you, I am speechless. I went into detail about the moment I knew, the look in his eye, how I recognized that it was more than the reflection my affection looking back at me. The way my heart threatened to melt immediately into a puddle of love and pour out onto my shoes, across the floor, out the door and into the street, into the Great Lakes, filtering out to the Atlantic and beyond until it covered the globe.

It's been harder to leave him during the day and go to work. I've written before about the class A day care he attends. He's well cared for, totally stimulated, loved and supported there. Not working is not an option for me. I know deep down I'm a better mom because I work outside of the house. My personality is not conducive to being home with him full time. (That would be the easily anxious/depressed/frustrated personality). I give him 100% of my attention from the minute I pick him up until he goes to bed. I'm so happy to see him during the week, as opposed to some of the weekend days when we are together from 5AM to 8PM and by 3 o'clock I'm feeling burned out and frazzled and praying for bedtime.

One of the reasons I'm so fond of his daycare is that they recognize and make an effort to do what's best for him and what's best for us. I'm pretty sure he crawled for the first time there and rather than announce when I picked him up Guess what? He's crawling! He's crawling! they discreetly said You should watch him tonight, it sure looked like he was ready to crawl today. When he did, I was suspicious, but I was glad they didn't tell me. For all I know, I was there witnessing that milestone for the first time.

He's talking so much now and I feel like we are friends. Really good friends - and isn't it natural to want to spend all your time with your best friends?  I feel like I'm finally getting over the hump of adjusting to the basic demands of being a mom and so naturally, along comes a new thing for me to get used to. I have to get used to being away from him when I'd rather be with him and I have to get used to the fact that he has to get used to being away from me.

I've been trying really hard to teach him how to say his name. It starts with an F and he hasn't mastered that sound yet. I've found he learns best by repetition so when we are together I pat my chest "mama", point to his dad "papa" and point to him and say his name. He's been saying and understanding mama and papa for months now, they are not new vocabulary words but I often find him toddling around repeating mama..papa..mama..papa.

I often wonder if he thinks about me and his pop when he's at school and we are apart. If he has up to now, he hasn't had the vocabulary to express it. This week there is a substitute teacher in the room. She's a floater so she knows all the kids and they know her. What she doesn't always know is what to filter. I picked him up last night and a teacher said "He did so well today using all his words!". How proud I was! How excellent! As we were walking out the sub called out how funny it was that all day he was saying mama..papa..mama..papa.

Mama? Papa? F@**. Toddler sized 5 kick in the stomach. 

That doesn't mean he was calling for me or missing me or unhappy, but since I know he knows who mama is, that pretty much answered the question I didn't actually want the answer to. No one has ever mentioned to me before that he has ever asked about mama or even said the word mama before. I prefer to think that he spends his days thinking about finger painting and sandboxes and buggy rides and when I appear at 5 o'clock he thinks WOW! Hi! What a nice surprise! I forgot all about you!

So he's talking about me at day care now. Great. Next thing you know he's going to be sneaking over the telephone and dialing my digits when the day care teachers aren't looking. This is going to take some getting used to.   

Day Care Blues

The boy is just over 16 months now. I usually write a monthly recap and I did again this month, but I didn't publish it because it was WAY to mushy-gushy. Here's the abridged version:

This month has been the greatest month ever. My momma dreams have come true because I love you more than I could have ever imagined and this month you started to love me back, for real. For all the words I read you, repeat to you, all the questions I ask you and answer for you, I am speechless. I went into detail about the moment I knew, the look in his eye, how I recognized that it was more than the reflection my affection looking back at me. The way my heart threatened to melt immediately into a puddle of love and pour out onto my shoes, across the floor, out the door and into the street, into the Great Lakes, filtering out to the Atlantic and beyond until it covered the globe.

It's been harder to leave him during the day and go to work. I've written before about the class A day care he attends. He's well cared for, totally stimulated, loved and supported there. Not working is not an option for me. I know deep down I'm a better mom because I work outside of the house. My personality is not conducive to being home with him full time. (That would be the easily anxious/depressed/frustrated personality). I give him 100% of my attention from the minute I pick him up until he goes to bed. I'm so happy to see him during the week, as opposed to some of the weekend days when we are together from 5AM to 8PM and by 3 o'clock I'm feeling burned out and frazzled and praying for bedtime.

One of the reasons I'm so fond of his daycare is that they recognize and make an effort to do what's best for him and what's best for us. I'm pretty sure he crawled for the first time there and rather than announce when I picked him up Guess what? He's crawling! He's crawling! they discreetly said You should watch him tonight, it sure looked like he was ready to crawl today. When he did, I was suspicious, but I was glad they didn't tell me. For all I know, I was there witnessing that milestone for the first time.

He's talking so much now and I feel like we are friends. Really good friends - and isn't it natural to want to spend all your time with your best friends?  I feel like I'm finally getting over the hump of adjusting to the basic demands of being a mom and so naturally, along comes a new thing for me to get used to. I have to get used to being away from him when I'd rather be with him and I have to get used to the fact that he has to get used to being away from me.

I've been trying really hard to teach him how to say his name. It starts with an F and he hasn't mastered that sound yet. I've found he learns best by repetition so when we are together I pat my chest "mama", point to his dad "papa" and point to him and say his name. He's been saying and understanding mama and papa for months now, they are not new vocabulary words but I often find him toddling around repeating mama..papa..mama..papa.

I often wonder if he thinks about me and his pop when he's at school and we are apart. If he has up to now, he hasn't had the vocabulary to express it. This week there is a substitute teacher in the room. She's a floater so she knows all the kids and they know her. What she doesn't always know is what to filter. I picked him up last night and a teacher said "He did so well today using all his words!". How proud I was! How excellent! As we were walking out the sub called out how funny it was that all day he was saying mama..papa..mama..papa.

Mama? Papa? F@**. Toddler sized 5 kick in the stomach. 

That doesn't mean he was calling for me or missing me or unhappy, but since I know he knows who mama is, that pretty much answered the question I didn't actually want the answer to. No one has ever mentioned to me before that he has ever asked about mama or even said the word mama before. I prefer to think that he spends his days thinking about finger painting and sandboxes and buggy rides and when I appear at 5 o'clock he thinks WOW! Hi! What a nice surprise! I forgot all about you!

So he's talking about me at day care now. Great. Next thing you know he's going to be sneaking over the telephone and dialing my digits when the day care teachers aren't looking. This is going to take some getting used to.   

Be afraid. Be very afraid.

Lately Ive been starting to feel gripped by a squeezing sensation in my chest. I can't quite articulate it. I think it sounds like something like this " Oh my god my baby is growing up". I've thought that a million times up until now- when he first sat up, first crawled, babbled his first words- the difference being, he was still a baby when he was doing those things and it felt like a natural and somewhat smooth progression.

We had his 15 month check up today. He's a respectable 26lbs and 33 inches long. Almost three feet long! exclaimed his pediatrician. Jesus that scares me. How is that possible? I'm 64 inches tall. My BABY is half as tall as I am plus one inch.

I also couldn't help noticing that this Dr visit was vastly different from the last. There was the walking, for one thing, but apart from that he was terrified by the elevator. He made a bee-line for the germ covered toys in the waiting area. Will I let him play with toys in the "well child" waiting area? Hell no. He let out a wail when he got one look at the resident intern who came in to do the pre-screen, as if to say PLEASE don't hand me over to him- he's a STRANGER.

While we waited in the exam room he repeatedly walked to the door and placed his hand on it and said 'bye bye'. He was telling me he wanted to leave. Oh my God. He wants to leave AND he's telling me he wants to leave. Double whammy. I've made it through those other rounds of nasty shots by telling myself he doesnt understand what this is. One quick poke and it's all over for him. I was wrong. He not only understood but tried to smack the nurse who tried to plunge that needle into his meaty thigh and he SCREEEEEAAAMED with an intensity only reserved for the most haneous offenses.

He's putting this all together. It's like Frankenstein waking up for the first time with his big brain. Except Frankenstien is the cutest thing you ever saw and I love him more than sliced bread.   

I've been trying to figure out why this is so frightening to me, because it really is scaring me. I feel slightly dis-jointed. His skills are changing and growing faster than mine are. Fear is not an emotion I've ever experienced when dealing with his development. Usually I'm a mixture of amazed, proud and relieved that he's hit a milestone and I haven't screwed up too badly since I have no idea what I'm doing, but I think I've become a little complacent. A little too smug. As if I've said to the universe- hmmm. This isn't so bad.

She responded with a wink and a smile. Really? Well then, lets bring on the toddler years.             

Be afraid. Be very afraid.

Lately Ive been starting to feel gripped by a squeezing sensation in my chest. I can't quite articulate it. I think it sounds like something like this " Oh my god my baby is growing up". I've thought that a million times up until now- when he first sat up, first crawled, babbled his first words- the difference being, he was still a baby when he was doing those things and it felt like a natural and somewhat smooth progression.

We had his 15 month check up today. He's a respectable 26lbs and 33 inches long. Almost three feet long! exclaimed his pediatrician. Jesus that scares me. How is that possible? I'm 64 inches tall. My BABY is half as tall as I am plus one inch.

I also couldn't help noticing that this Dr visit was vastly different from the last. There was the walking, for one thing, but apart from that he was terrified by the elevator. He made a bee-line for the germ covered toys in the waiting area. Will I let him play with toys in the "well child" waiting area? Hell no. He let out a wail when he got one look at the resident intern who came in to do the pre-screen, as if to say PLEASE don't hand me over to him- he's a STRANGER.

While we waited in the exam room he repeatedly walked to the door and placed his hand on it and said 'bye bye'. He was telling me he wanted to leave. Oh my God. He wants to leave AND he's telling me he wants to leave. Double whammy. I've made it through those other rounds of nasty shots by telling myself he doesnt understand what this is. One quick poke and it's all over for him. I was wrong. He not only understood but tried to smack the nurse who tried to plunge that needle into his meaty thigh and he SCREEEEEAAAMED with an intensity only reserved for the most haneous offenses.

He's putting this all together. It's like Frankenstein waking up for the first time with his big brain. Except Frankenstien is the cutest thing you ever saw and I love him more than sliced bread.   

I've been trying to figure out why this is so frightening to me, because it really is scaring me. I feel slightly dis-jointed. His skills are changing and growing faster than mine are. Fear is not an emotion I've ever experienced when dealing with his development. Usually I'm a mixture of amazed, proud and relieved that he's hit a milestone and I haven't screwed up too badly since I have no idea what I'm doing, but I think I've become a little complacent. A little too smug. As if I've said to the universe- hmmm. This isn't so bad.

She responded with a wink and a smile. Really? Well then, lets bring on the toddler years.             

15 months

Dear Sweet Pea: Who is such a big boy? I don’t know, do you know? This morning Papa asked me a question and I put my hands up and shrugged my shoulders, tilting my head to one side. From your highchair where you were eating your daily morning waffle you did the same. You are more entertaining than anything or anyone I know. I never know what to expect but you always deliver.

The Easter bunny came and brought you bubbles and a plastic truck full of goldfish crackers (your favorite snack in the world). We would blow bubbles for you and you would squeal in delight trying to smash them and ask for more when we stopped. We spent Easter with all your cousins and even though they are older and faster than you, you were happiest when you were right in the center of the action.

It’s the month of the molars! The first one arrived and the other three followed close behind.The new teeth seem to be improving your eating habits. One night this week you ate ham, french fries and some of an apple. Three new things in one night. That’s a record! You are also perfecting the art of brushing your teeth at night. You brush your teeth, stick out your tongue and clap when we’re done.

Spring has finally arrived and you love to be outside. Each day when I take you out of the car you stand in the garage and point at the birds (big-birds) and squat down so you can see them better. You love wagon rides and buggy rides. You are getting very good at letting me know what you want when you want it and you always want to sit in your wagon.

Baby steps are starting to happen! On our first warm night of the year we had you dressed down in your onesie, no shoes or even socks and you realized you could stand up all by yourself, then hang out for a minute, then with much much coaxing, take your first steps. Ever since then you have wanted to walk with assistance everywhere we go. We’re trying very hard to get you to realize you can do it yourself but you aren’t quite ready yet. I want you to walk because I want to know that you are hitting that developmental milestone but I love walking with you holding your hand. It’s one of those mommy moments that I pictured when you were just a tiny baby in my arms that I’ve been able to realize. Thanks for that.

Because you were sick and off milk for a few days anyway we decided to stop your bottles. Because you protested so vehemently I caved in and went back to one bottle in the morning, but we no longer sit in your rocking chair in the dark before bed with a bottle. I miss that moment of connection, the time to process that the day is done, but I know it’s time. Each month you took up more and more of the rocking chair and my lap and I became more aware that you are not a baby anymore. Actually it was easier for me not knowing that the last night time bottle really was the last and you didn’t seem to mind so I followed your lead.

For each thing that goes away, something new and amazing emerges in it’s place. In order for you to grow I need to be able to let go, so that’s what I’m going to do. But don’t worry, I’ll hold your hand for now.

15 months

Dear Sweet Pea: Who is such a big boy? I don’t know, do you know? This morning Papa asked me a question and I put my hands up and shrugged my shoulders, tilting my head to one side. From your highchair where you were eating your daily morning waffle you did the same. You are more entertaining than anything or anyone I know. I never know what to expect but you always deliver.

The Easter bunny came and brought you bubbles and a plastic truck full of goldfish crackers (your favorite snack in the world). We would blow bubbles for you and you would squeal in delight trying to smash them and ask for more when we stopped. We spent Easter with all your cousins and even though they are older and faster than you, you were happiest when you were right in the center of the action.

It’s the month of the molars! The first one arrived and the other three followed close behind.The new teeth seem to be improving your eating habits. One night this week you ate ham, french fries and some of an apple. Three new things in one night. That’s a record! You are also perfecting the art of brushing your teeth at night. You brush your teeth, stick out your tongue and clap when we’re done.

Spring has finally arrived and you love to be outside. Each day when I take you out of the car you stand in the garage and point at the birds (big-birds) and squat down so you can see them better. You love wagon rides and buggy rides. You are getting very good at letting me know what you want when you want it and you always want to sit in your wagon.

Baby steps are starting to happen! On our first warm night of the year we had you dressed down in your onesie, no shoes or even socks and you realized you could stand up all by yourself, then hang out for a minute, then with much much coaxing, take your first steps. Ever since then you have wanted to walk with assistance everywhere we go. We’re trying very hard to get you to realize you can do it yourself but you aren’t quite ready yet. I want you to walk because I want to know that you are hitting that developmental milestone but I love walking with you holding your hand. It’s one of those mommy moments that I pictured when you were just a tiny baby in my arms that I’ve been able to realize. Thanks for that.

Because you were sick and off milk for a few days anyway we decided to stop your bottles. Because you protested so vehemently I caved in and went back to one bottle in the morning, but we no longer sit in your rocking chair in the dark before bed with a bottle. I miss that moment of connection, the time to process that the day is done, but I know it’s time. Each month you took up more and more of the rocking chair and my lap and I became more aware that you are not a baby anymore. Actually it was easier for me not knowing that the last night time bottle really was the last and you didn’t seem to mind so I followed your lead.

For each thing that goes away, something new and amazing emerges in it’s place. In order for you to grow I need to be able to let go, so that’s what I’m going to do. But don’t worry, I’ll hold your hand for now.

I know this will seem obvious but taking pictures of your kid on a swing is not easy