the singing house

I think our household has turned into a full-fledged singing house – like Audrey Wood’s The Napping House, but substitute snoozing for belting tunes.

Before baby I did sing freely at home and in the car, but never did I pick up tunes randomly and frequently, whenever they flew into my head. Now I do. And now I even purposefully scan my brain pulling out those long-ago tossed out camp songs that seem to spring from nowhere and everywhere at once. It’s funny, once I remember the first few words, I’m golden … with the chorus.

If you walk into my house during an average day after I’m home from work, you’d probably see me bouncing on my exercise ball with Cal singing parts of Mary Had a Little Lamb, trailing off, then picking up with another favorite, B-I-N-G-O, which was his name-O!

One day recently I noticed that Shaun had printed out the words to Hush Little Baby. I thought this was adorable and hilarious, but I didn’t want to crush his humble efforts at song singing with my sarcasm, so I kept mum. A few days later I noticed him singing the song effortlessly and flawlessly. Whenever I try to sing it, I can never remember what comes after “And if that diamond ring don’t shine, momma’s gonna buy you a …” so I stop to think about it and resume with something that does not rhyme, or make sense, thereby ruining the song. After making fun of him in my head, I now think Shaun had it right all along – learn a few songs, sing them well, and you will look like a professional parent and not a scatterbrain like me. Too bad I haven’t really applied that lesson.

A song that I love to sing (albeit poorly) is Happy Together by the Turtles. Which in practice sounds like “The only one for me is you and you is me … and me and you and you and me” a bunch of times then to show I know the song, I add: “So happy togetheeeeeeer, how is the weatheeeeer!!!” I think of it as our anthem – Cal and I and I and Cal. Our version of that song anyway.

Although singing introduces babies to language and also rhyming and repetition, I think it’s really more medicine for us. I mean, I sing to get me into the playful mindset and to connect with Cal through language. But I also sing because it’s just plain enjoyable and it truly eases my busy bee mind. Plus, I forgot how much fun little kid songs are! And there are so many new ones …

This was highlighted yesterday at a performance at the local opera house. Through a mommy group, Cal and I got to see a one man performer who led us through a bevy of kid songs. I listened closely and even picked up (parts of) a few new songs. One of my new faves is the Beaver Song.

I’m not sure when we turned into a singing house. Besides our pitchy performances, I like the fact that we sing so much. In fact, I’m itching to sing right now.

cal's five.1

I was supposed to publish this Friday, but you know how Fridays go …

Five notable Cal happenings of the week:

1. My hickey. I was holding Cal as usual (with his head resting on my right shoulder) and he started gently knawing on me. I didn’t realize the force of his sucking, but when he stopped, there it was: the funniest horizontal red mark. I secretly cherished the tiny spot for days, until it faded.

2. This is a regular occurrence now, but I can’t get over how cute it is. Cal purposefully looks for us now. Like yesterday when I was putting away clothes and he was lying on his back on the bed, he moved his little head around, angling it so that he could find me in the vast space known as our room. When we met eyes, he smiled. I always knew he knew me, but now I really can see it in his bright eyes and wide smiles.

3. Yesterday Cal and I were bouncing on the exercise ball and Shaun daddy was sitting in front of us. Shaun started to bob his head to the rhythm of the bounce and Cal began cracking up (the second time I’ve heard him laugh). Then, get this, he contracted a case of the hiccups as he was laughing! So here’s Shaun making funny noises, laughing, and bopping his head around; me cracking up, water pouring out of eyes; and Calboy laughing and hiccupping and drooling at the same time. I’ll never forget it, I hope.

4. Cal had a blowout when we went to the farm-fresh-to-you farm on Saturday to pick strawberries. We were on the farm tour at the time (a fairly long walk), with Cal in his front pack, and I began feeling a wet sensation on my pants, but readily dismissed it. When Shaun advised me to look down, I found myself streaked with Cal’s buttered-popcorn-mustard poo. So I wasn't thrilled, but it wasn’t that bad – mom’s looked at me like “Don’t worry, hun, I’ve been there” and Cal had the dandiest time resting and smiling (and leaf gazing) on our picnic blanket in his diap – of which I got cutest photos, above. And all learned the valuable lesson of packing back ups.

5. Cal’s smiles. They, seriously, never cease to amaze and delight me. But I love it when others also get to bask in their glow. Saturday evening we had family friends over including 8-year-old sweetie Samantha. Despite a little bit of grumpiness and sleepiness, Cal kept flashing his mile-wide gummy grin at Sam, and Sam was so pleased to attract the smiles! It was this delicious, delightful cycle of joy feeding joy.

mommies and babies on earth day

“He’s such a flirt,” said moderator of the new parents’ group as Cal smiled his big gummy grin and squeaked in her direction. It’s hard to have a serious conversation about sleep habits when the most beautiful baby on Earth is smiling at you – that’s why we would stop every few minutes and acknowledge Cal’s clear eminence in the categories of looks and charms (slightly biased). “Oh, he’s such a charmer,” she kept saying.

Yesterday Shaun, Cal, and I went to a new parents’ group, which ended up being a new mommies’ group. The mommies were nice and Shaun did well in a sea of women (not that it’s really a shock, but it’s nice he can hold his own among women discussing blowouts and breast milk.) I was happy to finally find some mommies who live in our town – yes, they exist!

The clear highlight, though, was gawking at the littlest members of the group and noticing how, even at 6 –10 – 12 weeks of age, each baby is his or her own tiny person. For instance, our neighbor in the circle was a very cute red-headed Scottish baby, there was another girl with the sweetest Mohawk, and a tiny one-week old who slept cuddled in the nook of her mom’s arm the entire time.

Seeing all the other babies also served as a way to realize just how *big* our little guy is (he was the biggest there, and the oldest, but just barely) and what a long way he has come from being a crying-pooping-grunting guy to a happy baby who interacts with the world and holds us all in the palm of his edible and dimpled hand.

Out of some 10 or so odd babies, quite a few slept, but some were active, eating and making noises. Cal was clearly in the latter group. He got lots of attention from the other moms. He was even called a Gerber baby – if Cal had an ego, I’m sure it’d be fat and happy by now. But nope, he's just as sweet and innocent as ever.

All in all, it was just quite lovely to be around people who understand our day-to-day triumphs and challenges (which are indeed miles and ages from our previous lives and the lives most of the population who aren’t caring for newborns). At one point, we had a little regurgitation-of-milk situation, but it was laughed off and taken in stride as another baby had just hit her mom’s shoes with her resurgent lunch.

After we left, I had wanted to do something heroicly earthy for Earth Day, but we ended up slicing and dicing our frontyard bushes with an eclectic saw as Cal watched curiously from a nearby adult lap. OK, not that earth-y, but at least we connected with some fellow moms and babies and tended to our to-do list. Oh, I also managed to hang dry our new cloth diapers, there's something.

funny stuff

the lineup

It has come to my attention that I need some sort of way to organize my blog so readers (and, really, me) have an idea of what’s going to be posted. Here’s my weekly agenda, effective tomorrow:

Mondays: Weekend Adventures
Tuesdays: Parenting Reflection
Thursdays: Free Form (including different types of writing like letters and poems)
Fridays: Top Five Cal-isms of the Week
Weekends: Video postings

I hope you enjoy, Cal groupies!

goodnight moon and cal

One of the greatest pleasures in being a new mom is rocking my son to sleep. Last night particularly Cal was battling sleep like it was the enemy. Now more than ever before, he cries when he’s tired – which is both trying as a parent, but reassuring to know what he’s after.

When he’s tired, Cal knows what he wants but he’s stuck – he doesn’t have the ability anymore to drift in and out of consciousness seamlessly like when he was teeny tiny and he can’t seem to ease into sleep on his own yet. So last night I held Cal’s tiny head under my chin, with his stomach facing mine, and rocked him to sleep in front of the fan. A few times he protested being put down on the bed, so I just snatched him again and kept rocking. It has been unseasonably warm this week, so Cal was clad in just a diaper, and I got to touch his velvety skin and listen to his breathing as it calmed and deepened. Although my own sleep is second to Cal’s, calming the little guy has proven a good way to comfort myself and put my own thoughts away before I lay my head down. There is nothing in the world more splendid than cradling a baby as he drifts to dreamland in your arms.

thank you, bad economy

Everyday I’m thankful that when I must leave Cal, I leave him with his nana and his daddy who share the duties of child care; they are consistent, they are loving, and I trust him in their hands.

Although I would much prefer to be home, I am content with the situation as it stands. So content, that I secretly pray Shaun won’t find work soon – in six months would be better, I tell myself. That silent hope is one part scary and one part liberating. It is like the strange dichotomous feeling I have about the country's state in the economy's shaky hands. I am both fearful of the recession’s gloom-and-doom hold on our lives and grateful for the opportunity it has given us: to give Cal the stay-at-home parent he deserves and the one he’d otherwise get jipped of if this country hadn’t greedily dug itself into a hole.

So, in a weird twist, I am left wondering how I would cope if Shaun hadn’t got laid off. Believe me, I am just as perplexed at that sentence, but my fingers did type it.

You see, up to a year of unemployment insurance is affording us the sort of paternity leave luxury only seen in European countries. In Sweden, for instance, both parents are allowed 18 months of paid leave, receive an additional monthly allowance, and can use state-subsidized child care. Lucky them.

Wikipedia says the United States is shockingly one of just five countries in the world (Australia, the United States, Liberia, Swaziland, and Papua New Guinea) that does not offer some form of paid parental leave. Where in the blazes are our priorities?

The damper on our bittersweet situation is that Shaun does not have a job waiting for him after his pseudo paternity leave expires. So I’m left wishing he’ll get a job later, rather than tomorrow, but also before his unemployment runs out – a very complicated and far-fetched wish in this economy, where, in California, the unemployment rate is eyeing 11 percent.

As a result of all the layoffs, there's now more mommies like me bringing home the bulk of the bacon.

“Increasing numbers of working class women now – in a downturn where 82 percent of the job losses have been among men – have become their family’s sole wage-earners, it’s true.”

Here Judith Warner goes onto explain that the husbands of those women are actually holding their own at home – up to 20 percent of them now take on the bulk of house work and child care.

The recession is not only bringing dads and moms home, but greening our industries and making people better aware of their expensive and useless habits. Just this morning I read that increasingly people are going to libraries and saving their money, toxic businesses are closing, and college students are bypassing the job market for grad school.

All this makes me think that I’m not alone in liking how the recession has changed my life and that of my precious son's. If nothing else, it has given us something far better than we could have, or would have, chosen for ourselves – at least for right now. Meanwhile, I'll have to keep my hopes and dreams in check and just be happy that today Cal gets to spend the day with his daddy.

cal stacking and beyond

I’ve actually been working on another post, but it’ll have to wait. Cal slept on a bed last night. And by that I mean not on my chest.

This is a monumental change for me because it means I can sleep on my side now, which I’ve missed (happiness flooded my being when, following Cal’s birth, I could start sleeping on my back again; but now, after three months of nothing else, I’m ready to go back to the simple pleasure of alternating, upon wish, side and back).

At the beginning, Cal started to sleep stacked on top of me because Shaun and I were grasping for anything we could do (within means) to get a quarter night’s rest. This is not a foreign notion to new parents of any stripe. What I didn’t think of that first night was that our solution would become the status quo for the next three months – Cal with his back to my chest (I thought of us as night soldiers at attention), and his arms dropped to both sides like little wings.

This sleeping arrangement takes the family bed notion to the extreme. That’s why I alternated between loving our cuddly night routine (heck, we both slept like logs) and being scared I was somehow putting Cal at risk for SIDS (I took a little solace in the fact that its other name has the word crib in it) or for wanting to sleep that way until he would one day squash me like a bug. Every night I took precautions, bundling us together like a packaged deal – which meant wrapping a blanket snugly over his stomach and under my back so that he couldn’t move. You’d think my chest would make a poor substitute for soft bedding, but Cal didn’t seem to complain.

Many times, I tried moving Cal to his adorable and ingenious little cosleeper we had set up for him at the side of the bed, but after slipping him in fast asleep, he’d awaken almost instantly and start wailing. Needless to say, it was hard for me to even go pee at night.

The Cal stacking practice has been met with mixed reactions. On the rare occasion I’ve shared our routine, people either think its sweet (until, for some reason, they find out Cal sleeps on his back) or think the routine will create a family-bed monster who may never sleep on his own. Bed sharing seems natural to me, as long as it’s safe and OK with everyone involved. I’ve always liked sleeping next to someone or at least in the same room – so probably dido for a small person, who is much more vulnerable than I.

Anyway, after coming to terms with with bed sharing (at least for now), I started thinking of ways to try to get Cal to sleep right next to, and not on top of, me. As it turns out, he is quite alright with this proposition.

After a pilot on a futon on the ground, I decided to deploy the tack on our super large bed last night. I created an impenetrable bed railing with his cosleeper, which attaches to our bed, and cleared the pillows and blankets, and he slept right next to me all night long – probably six inches from my face, just close enough to kiss his head whenever I needed. And deep in my brain I know I won’t steamroll Cal just as I know I won’t somehow roll over the side of the bed, which is good. Plus, I’m a boring and stationary sleeper.

Anyway, it was a breeze to visit the bathroom and nice reprieve to be able to sleep on my side. And our sleep habits are no longer extreme. But I know someday Cal will transition to his own bed. For now, at least, we sleep like neighbors and not glued together like legos. Just give me a few weeks I'll be missing those simple and innocent days of Cal stacking.

i spy leaves

Easter was a complete whirlwind, but fun. Our Sunday had little to do with religion or Easter (except for a basket of peeps). Still, it felt sacred hanging out among family, flowers, and babe.

Considering weekend and the days leading up to it, we went to five separate events – from West Sac and the Sacto suburbs, all the way to Stockton, down south. Our life is full of family – we are more than blessed.

Plus, Cal went to his first baseball game on Thursday to see the River Cats. Being April, the game got rained out. But we trooped on, and enjoyed 2 ½ innings of unadulterated cuddle time, complete with some eye gazing. “Calvin Michael Hughes welcome to your first baseball game” beamed the billboard as we left.

My head is practically spinning from all of our adventures. Stimulus gets me tired. Dido for Cal, but he handles it with aplomb. At the pinnacle event on Sunday, at my great aunt’s, Cal was so pleasant that folks were commenting on his complete lack of fussiness. I can’t really take ownership for his being a “good baby” (I don’t like that moniker, although I use it too) but I definitely enjoy the ease of taking him out and showing him off. As long as he’s jiggled and loved, he’s game for experiencing new things.

A great memory I have of the weekend is watching Cal lounge wistfully and happily on two giant towels on the grass, gazing at the sparkling tree leaves; they danced in the breeze. Cal is an outdoorsman – I think he can actually commune with nature. Even cooped up in my cubicle, I can still see the leaves aglow in his eyes. When us big people look at leaves we try to categorize and label and make judgments – like whether the leaves are pretty or important or what kind of tree they belong to. But when Cal sees the dance of nature, he is just in awe. He observes. He takes it all in. He moves his arms and legs and wiggles in joy. He is the yin to the leaves’ yang. And then he cries when he’s ready to move on. It’s as simple as that.

I have all kinds of plans for my small naturalist as the weather warms – floating at the lake, hiking trails, camping, visiting the arboretum. The funny thing is that he’d be just as happy exploring the green expanse at the park down the street, or watching the greenery sway in our backyard. He’s pleased as punch as long as we’re outside. And I’m equally as happy watching him, wherever it is we find ourselves.

mobile of memories

The mind is a crazy place at 12, 2, and 4 a.m. Those are roughly the times I’m now awake since Calvin has come into the world. Early Monday morning I found myself reflecting on the weekend’s events, and started examining each happening like a piece in a beautiful and logical puzzle. The pieces were swirling in my brain like a mobile … Cal’s head peeking over Shaun’s shoulder, his eyes peering at me and the world, happy as a clam on his newfound perch … mowing the lawn for the first time with Cal in the baby carrier, the wind offering the smell of grass clippings, Cal silent and alert, watching the mower zigzag on its course … Cal’s pursed lips, unsure about the temperature of the bath water and the prospect of being wet in his Euro tub, which made us laugh … Cal smiling at the puppet snake with a funny overbite in the car on the way to breakfast … bub nestled in my arms at church, sound asleep as we sang … churchgoers ogling over him “ooooh that’s a peeeerfect baby” … Shaun helping Cal stand and his little grunts to support himself, trying so hard … Cal's round head, which my world now revolves around, and his tiny, lively features, rosy cheeks, and twirling tongue … and, looking down, Cal’s long body in my lap as he eats, his feet dangling over my thighs now and his hands bopping up and down, even as his eyes are closed … I’ll forever have that swirling mobile of memories of the first weekend in April tucked away for safe keeping.

smiley calboy

massageme

It’s really not that surprising, but for some reason I think it’s so cool. Cal likes massages. In my mind, massage is an activity that only some lucky adults indulge in, but it makes sense that babies like to be touched in the same way.

OK, so I was slow in starting the nightly massage because massaging requires Cal to lie relatively still, without being rocked or stimulated, following his least favorite activity of disrobing. I was skeptical, and of course, wrong. Cal has taken right to it.

We’re gradually establishing our massage time. Cal lies on the bed, clad in a diaper, while I lather him up with baby oil, and our Mozart CD hums in the background. Right now, we use the time as bridge to bedtime – it’s a part of my grand scheme to create the illusion of routine.

I start with his legs and feet. That’s his favorite. I wring each thigh like a towel. Then I move my hand over his knee to massage his calves. I pull his little piggy toes and stroke the bottoms of his “feetsies.” Sometimes we just stop there. Or sometimes he likes his arms done (but this can trigger his Moro reflex, and his arms pop right out like a karate chop, as Shaun says). If we’re up for more, I make circles on his belly and over his shoulder, or even drape him over my legs to tackle his back (tiny backs are so cute!), or his head. His hair continues to grow almost exclusively in the back, and I twist his long hairs around my fingers as I go along.

One of the great perks of massage is spying Cal’s curves. He’s got lots of little hills and valleys on his long, green bean body. But my favorite thing is his amazingly soft pot belly. His tummy has a sweet roundness. Last night, Shaun remarked on the growth of his girth (once, Cal had a tiny (er, tinier) frame; in his announcements, you can see the silhouette of his ribs). Now, he’s robust, relatively speaking. Anyway, Cal really calms down when we start. It seems like he’s focusing on the sensations, that’s what I like to think anyway. Perhaps we just both know how special this time is so we sit still and soak it in.