Mom and Dad took me to the pediatrician again yesterday, and here are my most recent stats:
Weight -- 26 lbs, 11 oz (75%)
Height -- 32" (75%)
Head Circumference -- 19.75" (>95%)
Again, the doc took my head measurements TWICE to make sure she wasn't seeing things. Then she looked at my mom and asked, "Well. That's a really big head. Do either of you have large heads?" Mom immediately pointed at Dad, silently wondering to herselve how Dr. Kaminker really could've missed the huge talking globe sitting to her left. She obviously was ignoring the 800-lb head in the room.
Last night while I was taking a bath, Mom and Dad asked me, "Devin, where is the A?" It took me a little while to shift my attention away from the tile grout, but then I pointed to the "A" letter of my bath-tub alphabet set. Both of them just went bonkers after that. I also said, "ah-ble" and pointed to the round red fruit pictured under the A, and they just totally flipped. I thought they were gonna lose it, so to avoid sending them totally over the edge, when they asked me about the letter C, I just blinked at them and went back to poking my fingers in the bath tub drain. I gotta dole it out to them slowly, you know.
So I guess they are going to try to wean me off my bottle soon (I heard them discussing this with the doc yesterday). Noooo! Not when I was just getting into the habit of dangling the bottle between my teeth while walking around the apartment.
Tuesday, November 14, 2006
Monday, November 06, 2006
Early childhood trauma?
When Devin was only about three or four months old, he spent the night a few times with Davis's parents, leaving us to actually get some sleep. We were fine with being away from our baby because (1) we really enjoy sleeping, and (2) he never seemed to recognize us anyway -- any hand that held the precious bottle for him was a familiar hand. He just never seemed to mind. He alway returned normal and we greeted him with well-rested spirits.
Well, these days we have learned how to cope with less sleep in our lives (paid for by lower-level mental functions, not that anything was that high to begin with), and Devin is older and has developed quite a set of lungs to express his discontent. When the opportunity comes up for Davis and me to send him packing on an overnight trip to Grandma's, we now find ourselves thinking carefully about it and engaging in a full debate about whether to take up the opportunity. We don't really crave the extra sleep anymore. Sometimes it's merely a practical issue, like maybe I have to be out of town overnight and Davis has to work late. Sometimes it's just a grandparents-wanna-have-him-all-for-themselves-overnight issue. Whatever the reason, we've found ourselves wondering, "Will Devin survive a night away from home? Will Davis's parents survive a night with him? Will we survive when he comes back?"
Being a parent takes a lot of practice - the first three to six months of baby's life when you are just walking around like a zombie completely glazed over and sleep deprived is really just like cruel brainwashing session to erase any memory of life as you knew it - life before baby. It's just like how Cesar Milan, the Dog Whisperer, approaches dog training. Lots of excercise, then discipline, and then love. If you aren't familiar with Cesar Milan, his philosophy is to wear down obnoxious spoiled hyper uncontrollable dogs through vigorous excercise so that when they are absolutely exhausted and spent, their brains are ready to learn discipline. Then you reward them with lots of doggie hugs and love. See, just like parenthood. Wear the hell out of 'em with sleep deprivation, then they learn how to drag their beaten bodies out of bed every two hours throughout the night even when they think they can tolerate no more, and then...when the baby gives you that first smile and says, "mama" or "dadee," you know you've been successfully trained, and VOILA -- you're suddenly totally sprung on your baby! Just like that.
Over time, with practice you develop a system. We always keep a box of tissues next to the table, along with a stack of bibs and a collection of toys to keep Devin's attention while we feed him. We also have a system now where boxes of toys are strategically placed throughout the apartment so that Devin can stay occupied and IN SIGHT in various places while we perform daily tasks that require both hands, like brushing teeth or cooking. We have a system in place so that when we come home and dump our stuff, we do it into a big cabinet with doors on it, so that loose coins, keys, and receipts won't find their way into Devin's mouth. We have a secondary keyboard next to our computer so that he can bang away as much as he wants and not delete my entire dissertation chapter by chapter. Yeah, it's a system that's been honed over the past 15 months and it works like a well-oiled machine.
But, when Devin isn't around much, sometimes that machine gets a little rusty. When I haven't had Devin at home with me for awhile, suddenly that box of tissues has disappeared right at the moment when he has thrown mashed peas all over the table and is about to -- in slow motion -- run his white sleeve right into the clump of green mush. And when I haven't been around him for awhile and then try to pick him up, my back reminds me that muscles get stronger with use and not with sitting at a computer or in front of the TV set.
Tonight Davis's mom asked if she could take Devin to Phelan (about an hour away from LA) for two nights -- wow, we were not really prepared to deal with letting all that Cesar Milan training go to pot. In the end, we decided we'd send him over there, since I will be out of town for a conference and Davis has to work late. I'm still anxious about it. Two nights away from home just seems like eternity, when we've been able to tippy-toe into his room in the middle of the night every night, and peek over the crib rail at him whenever we want to feel some love. It's one of my favorite things to do. We just hope that when he returns he will still remember us, that he won't plot revenge on us for the rest of his life, and that we will remember how the whole system works.
Well, these days we have learned how to cope with less sleep in our lives (paid for by lower-level mental functions, not that anything was that high to begin with), and Devin is older and has developed quite a set of lungs to express his discontent. When the opportunity comes up for Davis and me to send him packing on an overnight trip to Grandma's, we now find ourselves thinking carefully about it and engaging in a full debate about whether to take up the opportunity. We don't really crave the extra sleep anymore. Sometimes it's merely a practical issue, like maybe I have to be out of town overnight and Davis has to work late. Sometimes it's just a grandparents-wanna-have-him-all-for-themselves-overnight issue. Whatever the reason, we've found ourselves wondering, "Will Devin survive a night away from home? Will Davis's parents survive a night with him? Will we survive when he comes back?"
Being a parent takes a lot of practice - the first three to six months of baby's life when you are just walking around like a zombie completely glazed over and sleep deprived is really just like cruel brainwashing session to erase any memory of life as you knew it - life before baby. It's just like how Cesar Milan, the Dog Whisperer, approaches dog training. Lots of excercise, then discipline, and then love. If you aren't familiar with Cesar Milan, his philosophy is to wear down obnoxious spoiled hyper uncontrollable dogs through vigorous excercise so that when they are absolutely exhausted and spent, their brains are ready to learn discipline. Then you reward them with lots of doggie hugs and love. See, just like parenthood. Wear the hell out of 'em with sleep deprivation, then they learn how to drag their beaten bodies out of bed every two hours throughout the night even when they think they can tolerate no more, and then...when the baby gives you that first smile and says, "mama" or "dadee," you know you've been successfully trained, and VOILA -- you're suddenly totally sprung on your baby! Just like that.
Over time, with practice you develop a system. We always keep a box of tissues next to the table, along with a stack of bibs and a collection of toys to keep Devin's attention while we feed him. We also have a system now where boxes of toys are strategically placed throughout the apartment so that Devin can stay occupied and IN SIGHT in various places while we perform daily tasks that require both hands, like brushing teeth or cooking. We have a system in place so that when we come home and dump our stuff, we do it into a big cabinet with doors on it, so that loose coins, keys, and receipts won't find their way into Devin's mouth. We have a secondary keyboard next to our computer so that he can bang away as much as he wants and not delete my entire dissertation chapter by chapter. Yeah, it's a system that's been honed over the past 15 months and it works like a well-oiled machine.
But, when Devin isn't around much, sometimes that machine gets a little rusty. When I haven't had Devin at home with me for awhile, suddenly that box of tissues has disappeared right at the moment when he has thrown mashed peas all over the table and is about to -- in slow motion -- run his white sleeve right into the clump of green mush. And when I haven't been around him for awhile and then try to pick him up, my back reminds me that muscles get stronger with use and not with sitting at a computer or in front of the TV set.
Tonight Davis's mom asked if she could take Devin to Phelan (about an hour away from LA) for two nights -- wow, we were not really prepared to deal with letting all that Cesar Milan training go to pot. In the end, we decided we'd send him over there, since I will be out of town for a conference and Davis has to work late. I'm still anxious about it. Two nights away from home just seems like eternity, when we've been able to tippy-toe into his room in the middle of the night every night, and peek over the crib rail at him whenever we want to feel some love. It's one of my favorite things to do. We just hope that when he returns he will still remember us, that he won't plot revenge on us for the rest of his life, and that we will remember how the whole system works.
Thursday, November 02, 2006
Building blocks
This video was taken on 10/16. Check out the self-satisfaction!
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