6 week belly shot: already having trouble with my skinny jeans

When I was pregnant with Lyndon, I wore my normal pants and shorts until I was about 5 months along. I did have to wrap a rubber band around the button and thread it through the button-hole for some extra wiggle room, but that was it. This time around, it ain't gonna happen. At 6 weeks:

Yikes! And those are my "comfy" jeans. My normal jeans start to get uncomfortable around 3 pm, and I have to either unbutton or make the switch to something more forgiving.

As excited as I am to look pregnant, I have to say that I'm having a hard time with this whole showing earlier thing. I'm afraid it will extend the awkward "Are you pregnant or just putting on weight?" stage that I hated so much last time.

Then again, we might just reach the fun "obviously pregnant" stage that much sooner. Only time will tell. One thing's for sure, though: this time around, I am definitely buying some maternity shorts.

He likes to move it, move it.

two little monkeys jumping on the bed...

Lyndon loves that song. You know the one, "Five little monkeys jumping on the bed, one fell off and bumped his head . . .", and then of course, we have four monkeys, then three, then two, then one. There are lots of songs that count backwards like that: "Sally the Camel", "Five Green Speckled Frogs", etc.

But around here, we're not counting backwards anymore. Because we already have one little monkey. And now we're about to have two.

That's right, folks. Sometime this winter, our little family of three will become four. Or five. (I always wanted twins, and you just never know!)

Either way, there will be plenty of little monkeys jumping on my bed. :-)

Mother's Day tribute

I feel like this is the first Mother's Day that I have really appreciated my mom, in the sense of understanding exactly how much she gave up to mother me. She breastfed me in an era when bottle-feeding was the norm, going so far as to pump two bottles manually during her lunch break at work every day. She gave up her career (20 years as an art teacher) to stay home with me, and in so doing, gave up the extra income, the personal fulfillment, and the recognition that comes with being excellent at what you do (which she is, by the way). She has, to my knowledge, never looked back or regretted that decision. She has never held it over my head; rather, she always seems to feel privileged that she was able to be home with me.

She wiped my runny nose (and other *ahem* areas), cleaned up my messes, and endured my tantrums. She held my hand, prayed with me, and counseled me well into the night. I don't ever remember her complaining or asking for a day off (two things that I do all the time). She did the best she possibly could, every day that I was with her. She poured her life out into me, giving me chances and opportunities she never had, shaping, molding, teaching, training. She worked hard to make me into the person I am. Then she let me go.

Since then, she has become a fantastic grandmother to my little boy. He loves to sit on her lap and play any game she wants, and she loves him fiercely. I love seeing the two of them together, enjoying each other's company and learning together. And I know she'll be as good to him as she was to me.

Thanks, mom, for all your sacrifice and love. I love you.

Happy Mother's Day.

thoughts on "social skills"

When we told my mother-in-law that we were considering homeschooling our kids, the first thing she said was, "But how will they develop social skills?" I assured her that we were as concerned about social skills as the next family, and that our children would be involved in all kinds of team-building, friend-making activities.

We still plan to do that, when they're old enough, and I think it will be an enriching experience for them.

But I've found myself thinking more and more about those "social skills" lately.

It all started a few weeks ago when we visited a friend's house for dinner. There were 4 children there, including Lyndon, all in the 6 months-2 years age bracket, and he was intimidated. Shy. Afraid. He fell apart every time one of the other kids even came near him, and heaven forbid they touch him or take one of his toys. He did it again in Children's Ministry that week and has since shown an unwillingness to stand up to other children, even in small matters. If a slightly bigger child (which is everyone at this stage) climbs up the stairs to the slide while he's on them, not only will he move aside to let them through, but he will climb down the stairs and give up on the slide entirely. This bothers me.

Or, at least, it did. But I've had a dose of perspective lately.

Some of you know that I was planning on working at a day camp this summer, and Adrian was going to stay home with Lyndon. This plan has become increasingly complicated in the last few weeks, as Adrian has signed up for school system seminars, registered for the WorshipGod Conference and interviewed for a new job that starts in July. We were planning on shuffling Lyndon between his two grandmothers and the one year-old room at my job. I was nervous about it, but I kept telling myself, "It'll be good for his (say it with me) 'social skills'". I happily imagined him learning to play nicely with other kids and take a nap in a room full of children. But I also feared him having separation anxiety, refusing to nap and being so intimidated that he just sits in a corner while the other kids have fun. So, when Adrian said that he didn't want me to work this summer, part of me was greatly relieved.

And part of me was still worried about Lyndon's "social skills". Then I went to tell my boss my intentions, and my child turned into a different person. He was snuggly and shy in an endearing way around the adults, smiling at them over his shoulder and waving at just the right moments to elicit the "Awwww." Initially tense in the 2 year-old room that I visited, he quickly warmed up and started begging to be put down so he could join the fun. And I realized . . . it's not that big of a deal, this "social skills" thing.

Yes, if my 10 year-old has no idea how to make friends, then it will be a big deal. But if my 15 month-old can't handle a room full of screaming preschoolers yet, or be happy in the arms of a complete stranger less than 10 seconds after meeting her, well . . . not a big deal.

And I've been noticing . . . the more I take him places (the kinds of places I've been taking him since the beginning) and give him the chance to interact with other kids, and don't stress him out about it, the more comfortable he gets. Up on the playground equipment today, he was holding his own against four very large preschool and school-age children, including one two year-old girl who was hugging him and petting his hair. No crying. No fussing. I actually think he kind of enjoyed it.

The point is, these "social skills" everyone keeps talking about have to develop, just like any other skills. Most babies are friendly by nature and will smile at anyone; this does not mean they're able to make friends or play well with other children. Some kids have natural dispositions that make them more friendly, more willing to warm up to new situations and people. My kid does not have this disposition. But what I've learned is that despite all the hype, it's not that big of a deal right now. I'm not depriving my toddler by keeping him out of daycare, by missing the occasional play group, or by helping him adjust gradually to children's minstry. If he wants to cuddle on a bench with mommy instead of run and scream on the playground, that's fine. I will enjoy it while I can. The "social skills" will come in their own good time . . . before I know it, in fact.

Lyndon's 15 month check-up

Yep, I took the little guy in for his 15 month visit today, and, after enduring his standard doctor's office freak-out, came home with some fun numbers!

My little guy weighed in at 21 lbs. 8 oz. (10th percentile) and was 29 1/2 in. tall (slightly below 10th percentile). He's in the same percentile as last time, a good sign! All of his developmental milestones look great . . . all except . . . that talking thing. I told the doc that he knows 8 signs (and just learned a new one this morning), responds to commands, and does the "point and grunt" like a pro, but has yet to say any real words consistently. I was sure she would be concerned, but she wasn't. (That'll teach me to get my developmental info. from books and websites.)

She did recommend that I "get the ball rolling" on a hearing test and contact with the developmental assessment people, not because it's particularly urgent, but because they're so slow. She said that often, kids will start talking while the family is waiting for the therapist to visit (which would be fine with me). She made it sound so normal, so regular, to call a speech therapist. I was expecting to be embarrassed or to feel like a failure, somehow. But she was so matter-of-fact about the whole thing that I didn't even have the chance.

I have to admit, my heart skipped a beat when she went to give him the infamous "MMR" vaccine, but I kept reminding myself, "Vaccines don't cause autism. Vaccines don't cause autism. There's more mercury in his tuna sandwich than in this vaccine." Isn't it funny how you can know all the facts and be perfectly convinced of a complete lack of danger, yet when the moment comes for them to do something to your child, suddenly it's terrifying?

But, we both made it through, and now my little man has two fun, red, crayon-shaped bandages on his legs, his own little badge of courage for being 15 months old.