evenings are funny

“Hi Bubbas! We’re home.”

Before I crack the door, he’s already crawling in my direction. I enter the house at 5:15, and I watch Cal speed racing toward me on his hands and knees, leaving our nanny in the dust on the floor behind him. Now that Shaun and I carpool, we arrive together, but Cal, grunting, bypasses his dad and dashes over to my feet where he grabs my pant legs and stands in front of me. It’s his way of greeting me after a long day away. I can’t help but revel in it. I smile and say hello then attempt to wash my hands. After, I pick him up and tote him around.

He likes when I’m holding him while Shaun makes him laugh. Half the time in the evenings now he is laughing; I mean, completely cracking up. It really sets him off when I walk down the poorly lit hallway and Shaun starts in after us making big monster noises and dramatically stomping around. I’d think this would scare him, but Cal thinks this is the cat’s meow. Even when Shaun’s not meaning to stage a monster chase game, Cal laughs when Shaun walks behind us. After playing all kinds of peek-a-boo games, we sit on the floor and I ask him about his day. He’s busy playing with something, but I know he listens because he pipes up in his own format. Later, while Shaun is starting dinner, we go to Cal’s room.

Trying to wrestle a huge cloth diaper and footed PJ’s on a 9 month old is probably my hardest physical task of the day. It takes lots of song and dance to get him unclothed, diapered, then clothed, and when he’s free of my confines, he crawls straight to the window draped in three panels of soft jean. He hides in the jean and falls over the thick curtains, all the while holding on for dear life and giggling. Sometimes this sort of thing would make him cry but not there or then. It’s funny.

I snatch him up and pop in his pacifier and he curls up clutching his blanket beside me on the futon on the floor, which rests beside his crib. We both breathe for the first time that day it seems. He nurses for a few minutes then I choose three books and most of the time he’ll watch me read them, only periodically grabbing at the pages. Lately, he’s interested in the parade of animals in Brown Bear, Brown Bear. Or maybe it’s the animal noises I make.

After reading, we say good night to his nightlights, formally known as Mr. Moon and Mrs. Star (they both kept their last names). Once I flip the switches, it’s dark. I power on the waves on the sound machine and I rock him for several minutes, singing twinkle, twinkle or humming. He knows it’s time so he just rests his head against my chest (he used to resist at first, now he just unwinds.) Once I say goodnight, I lay him in his crib on his side, he rubs his blanket over his hands and keeps his eyes closed. Eventually, he rolls on to his stomach, tucking his feet underneath.

As I slip out of the dark room buoyed by the eventful evening, Cal’s laughs still streaming through my head, it’s just past 6 so I have time to accomplish a few more tasks before putting myself to bed too.

the professor and the athlete

I don’t want to leap to conclusions, but I think Cal is on the verge of taking his first small steps (one big step for Calvinkind!). Couldn’t resist.

For a while Cal’s been fluid and comfortable on his fat little feet, gliding around the room from chaise lounge to couch, and even using the wall. It’s the cutest darn thing to look down and find him clinging to your jeans, looking up to meet your gaze. He often prefers to cling to pant legs because, I think, it offers an ever-novel vantage point, and also, he prefers to stay close. Sometimes I surmise that it’s his very ingenious way of getting me to stop moving so frantically about and to stay with him while he totters, and it works.

More recently, he shuns our hands, and pulls away to stand alone for several seconds and then, when he starts to wobble, crouches to the floor. Last weekend Cal pulled this standing stunt over and over again (as if seeming to say: Look, no hands!), testing his muscles and balancing more frequently and for longer intervals. On Sunday, 1-year-old Oren, the nephew of friends of ours, came over to “play.” The adults were eager to see how the two adorable and positively different baby slash toddlers would interact, if at all.

Once the gates were released and they were put on the floor, Calvin crawled straight toward Oren to inspect our smaller than usual visitor. He tried to grab his face, but we intervened. Then, over the course of the visit, he kept trying to use Oren’s shoulders and head for a standing launching pad. Oren, who isn’t so much into all this standing and walking nonsense, just looked at a much bigger Cal as if he was an ambassador from another, more athletic, planet.

So it was Oren the kind professor with soft strawberry curls in his hair and Calvin the star sports player with short, aerodynamic fuzz, both spinning their own feats for us to see. While Calvin crawled fast and climbed on everyone's laps and clang to knees and couch arms to stand, Oren pointed at things and showed his sharing “tricks,” by gesturing and offering toys to people close to him. I think Cal can use someone like this in his life; I have a feeling sharing is nowhere near his top concern.

It was interesting to meet Cal's contrast. And it was also funny watching Calvin try to inspect and tower over Oren. But after they left I had a sinking feeling -- what will I do to teach my 90th percentile little guy to use his powers of diplomacy instead of his strength? I’m starting to think I gave birth to a Shaquille O’Neal. Unlike Shaq, I’m hoping, praying, Calboy will learn to play nice.

Letters

October 16, 2008

Dear baby Cal,

How are you? I am so happy that someday soon I’ll get to meet you. I wonder if you’ll have a fuzzy head of hair and huge blinking blue eyes or a bald head and curious green eyes. Whatever you look like, I know you’ll be perfect. I’ve already fallen in love with you.

Do you know that we already play games? Mainly you kick me and I smile to myself, or you push with your feet and hands and I’ll touch you gently from outside. Often, you hiccup so it feels like a tiny earthquake rumbling inside my tummy (it kind of tickles!). Other times you are a boxer, others, a graceful dancer. You get stronger every week. You are so active these days. When I’m on the bus early in the morning, you’re already busy doing acrobats. You’re favorite time is after dinner when I’m relaxing (and you’re having a great feast!) and dad massages my stomach and we both smile and laugh at the thought and feel of you rolling around in your home. That is my favorite time too.

In fact, many people love putting their hands on my belly to feel you kicking. It is their first connection with you, so it brings so much joy to their faces. I’m so lucky that I get to spend everyday with you.

Sometimes I think of you as an astronaut, weightless and bouncing around in my stomach, restricted only by your umbilical cord. At this point (27 weeks) I already know you can hear my voice and dad’s voice, which is amazing. I also read today that you are sleeping regularly, opening and closing your eyes, and sucking your fingers! You’re also practicing your breathing for when you make the journey outside and take your first breath of air. Although I am so eager to hold you and meet you, I hope and pray you get to relax and grow in my tummy for many more months so you can be big and strong.

I hope you like cereal, peanut butter, salad, plums, apples, burritos, and a little chocolate here and there because these are some of the foods I love to eat. I also drink lots of orange and pomegranate juice, yum! As you grow, my stomach grows too. When I glance in the mirror, it appears I’m hiding a balloon under my shirt, but it’s really you in there. I love providing a warm and safe home for you until you’re ready to see the world.

I still can’t believe the miracle that you are. But I am so glad that we picked each other. When I first found out that I was pregnant, you were the size of a poppy seed and now you’re more than 14 inches long and weigh 2 pounds – like a head of cauliflower. And you’ll only grow bigger!

You are such a wonderful blessing. Keep on bopping and bouncing around and I’ll see you in a couple of months, when I can finally shower you with kisses.

Love always,
mom

October 19, 2009

Dear Cal,

How are you?

Last week I found a letter I wrote to you when you were in my tummy. I wrote it one year ago. I cannot believe how remarkable you are and how both our lives have changed since I wrote that first letter. I’m writing you another letter so that I can marvel next year at the beautiful arch of your growth. I will try to write to you each October. As the leaves change colors and season turns cooler, I’ll think about you and your cycles and changes.

A year ago I wondered about your looks – now I know you do have fuzzy hair and huge blinking blue eyes. Although I guessed that, I didn’t know how expressive those bright blue eyes would be or how funny and captivating you’d act with your smirks and your toothy grins. Or how soft that peach fuzz head would feel.

The shapes of your eyes are similar to mine – little almond lakes protected by your long black lashes. Their blue color takes breaths away. I remember now that your Nana had a dream you’d have eyes like mine. Your mouth reminds me of your Uncle Ryan – especially when your lips are shut and you’re acting noble or serious. I think you have your dad's height and itch to tinker with things ... that's just the tip of the iceberg. You express bits of all of us, yet you are your own beautiful you.

You’re a curious little boy. A lot of people use the word “aware,” meaning they think you’re paying attention and tuning into what’s going on. Many adults lose this ability, so it is a gift to watch you watch the world.

Last year I wrote about the games we played when I poked at your feet as they pushed on my belly. We play so many games now. You like peek-a-boo with blankets and you also chase after us when we peek out from behind things. We roll on the floor together and explore everything down to the zipper on my sweater. Your favorite toys are not really toys, but kitchen objects. You also like buttons and pulling drawers open. Anytime there’s something new, you crawl straight toward it. You are quick. I have to jog after you. You want to play with the phone and remote control, and grab at them every chance although they are off limits. You play drums on oatmeal containers, boxes. You chew on all kinds of spoons and other things and then drop them on the floor and watch us pick them up. Then you drop them again.

Your Nana cares for you most mornings during the week; your Nana and Pops take you on walks every morning. At their house, you like to pet the little doggies, play drums on many surfaces and watch Nana vacuum. Lights make you light up, and you really appreciate Nana's twinkly string lights that dangle over the entranceway.

You are mostly on the move but you are silent and still when you’re in the stroller on walks, watching the world so intently. You seem to like being in the backyard on a blanket in the grass or playing on a swing at the park, which makes you laugh. When you were a younger baby you enjoyed watching the leaves in trees sparkle and sway. Nature seems to calm you, and also music. I've probably sang bingo 100 times by now. You like it, so we keep singing.

You can do so many things now – stand without help (you do this a lot now, because you are mastering this skill), crawl, drink out of a sippy cup, grunt to tell us your needs, fall asleep (you take two naps like clockwork and your bedtime is 6). Lately, you’ve been trying to pull yourself onto things. Yesterday, we had an older baby over at our house and you were intrigued. You crawled right up to him and tried to use his shoulder to stand! You are tall and agile and have a short-hair haircut. You seem like a little boy already.

I told you about the food I liked to eat when I was pregnant; now I know some of what you like. At Tomales, you liked your Uncle Ryan’s tomato/roasted bell pepper soap. Ggma recreated it recently and you ate it all up. You also like sweet potatoes, potato soup, peanut butter, squash and green bananas, nothing too sweet. When you like something, you grunt and lean toward us so you can get in another mouthful faster. When you don’t, you put your fingers in front of your mouth and grunt, and we know you’re “all done.”

Something we really enjoy now is that sometimes you’ll lay your head on us and cuddle. So many people just like being with you, holding you, watching you seek out things, watching you bloom. You seem to enjoy their company too.

People say you will have a lot to say when you learn to talk, kind of like your dad. Whatever you say, I can’t wait to hear it. You teach me to be mindful of the world. And also to take action! I love our Wednesdays, when it's just you and me. You keep me on my toes; I wouldn’t have it any other way.

Can’t wait to tuck you in tonight.

Love you,
mom

bonks and booboos begin

Blogger.com was down, written Friday Oct. 2

Maybe I’m getting old, but Cal has gotten slap-stick quick. He has mastered his crawling technique in a month’s time and now can burst into overdrive once he sees something electrical or dangerous to eat, or both. They tell you that kids seek out cords, plugs and everything off limits and you shake your head in ignorance until you find out that they do. I’m sure it has to do with novelty and that priceless “I can’t have it so I want it” quality.

My weekly Wednesday with Calvin ended with a sore back and all around fatigue. Don’t get me wrong, we had fun – especially at the park where, sitting directly in front of the bucket swing on the bark-padded ground, I pushed Cal and he swayed back and forth like a pendulum wearing a wide grin. He got quiet when I ducked out of view, then chuckled when I burst back into his frame. I could see his white bottom teeth glistening as giggles poured out.

Now that we’re homebound on Wednesdays (Shaun no longer carpools) we’re discovering the niceties of staying home. Grocery trips are replaced with walks and park trips. Eventually, we’ll venture out on the bus with our compact stroller, but we haven’t yet.

We spent a long stretch of time on a blanket outside, where Cal would pile on top of me or steal my glasses. That’s the other thing – he shuffles toward me with this beautiful grin (queue slow-mo) and just when I think he’ll nestle into my arms and give me a hug: he snatches my glasses and starts to mouth and inspect them, clenching them tightly in his fists while I try hard to wrestle them free. It’s not exactly like taking candy from any baby, he’s very strong. He gets upset when I eventually retrieve them, grunting with acute frustration and bounding after them, even if I put them behind me or under my leg. He knows that things still exist now. He is persistent about the glasses and I can’t help it because I don’t want to egg him on – but it makes me laugh, if under my breath.

The other thing is that his grunts have multiplied lately. My mom and I were talking about this last night at a friend’s fundraiser gala (my first night without Cal and without Shaun!). Calvin has so many desires and ambitions now, waiting to burst out, and they surface as these highly impassioned grunts. Sometimes, we can even extrapolate from the grunting and body language what exactly he wants; frequently, it involves things he can’t have. But the other day, Nana responded to his grunts at the decorative lights threaded over her living-area entranceway, which he’s always marveled at, by plugging them in; he smiled in approval.

Midday Wednesday I turned my head and Cal had pulled the stool over; it landed with a thud beside (thankfully not on) him, but he fell down with it. Emotion coursed through me as I heard his heavy breathing and crescendo crying begin – it made me tremble with grief even as I’d known he’d be alright. The stools were banished to the garage.

Our day together was speckled with grunting and bonked heads and lots of cuddling after my little adventurer’s accidents under the sun and in the breeze of early fall. Calvin is learning cause and effect (by way of hard floors and objects, and exposed outlets if he got his way). I’m learning to stay calm despite the mental anguish of watching him learn, and fall. I guess, welcome to Parenthood 101.

Running after Cal and absorbing so much emotion from his physics experiments runs a mom ragged. Thankfully, there are those two long midday naps – much needed rest for mama, and baby.