Where's My Cape?

The artist formerly known as Boy

Boy1, as he's holding one of my kitten heels upside down: Why does this have a stem?

Boy1 has, under my nose, turned into, well a boy. He's stretched out - face now more ovaloid than round. I watched him walk away from me the other day and it struck me all of a sudden how tall he's gotten. Yet, he's still mama's boy and says "Mama" or "Mommy" more than probably any other word over the course of the day. Often in rapid succession - I guess to make it absolutely clear it's my attention he craves.

Boy1's babyness lingers on, though, reverting frequently to helplessness even though we all know he is becoming more and more competent and able. These moments sometimes frustrate me to no end, especially when I'm tired and stressed and don't want to deal with the I-can't-do-x-You-do-it routine. Then other times, his big boyness throws me for a loop, and I can't quite believe how much he can do all by himself.

Language - that's been huge. Those complicated sentences and sentiments - have me often floored. When I asked him who he played with yesterday, Boy1 told me that he chose to play with A, a girl who was sick, since he wanted to make her feel better. I'm not sure how unusual it is for a 3.7 year old boy to be that considerate and thoughtful but he does things like this quite frequently. Like how he'll bring grandma's cup of water to her (filling the cup himself) in the morning since she always likes a cup of water first thing. Or saving pieces of treats he treasures to share with Mommy. Boy1 is going to be a serious catch one day. *insert heart palpitations*

I often wonder what the effect of his birth order will have on him. Being the middle child is no joke. He is self-declared shy - at gymnastics warm ups he usually just stands there, watching everyone, while all the other boys and girls are running around in circles as they are supposed to. Warm-ups are apparently just not his thing. And up until last night, he did not do any public singing in front of crowds. School performances would involve no lip movement besides a smile at me, slowly morphing into a complete absence of smile - not feeling that either. But last night, Boy sang at a school function. There was even the occasional body motion accompaniment. My heart swelled. I think it helped him to be standing next to a good (girl)friend who was way into the singing.

I've decided I need more patience with him, more one-on-one time. Somehow, the other day, we ended up lying in my walk-in closet looking through a box of miscellanea together - alone - he had pulled on one of his ties on his pants and it came clear off into his hands. This sent us both into giggles. Later, he had said something to the effect of, "Remember how we had funny things together?" The look in his eyes was unfiltered love.

He's growing up. I want him to. And I don't.

 

 

 

Doctor in training

I'm sitting on the bar stool at the counter when Boy1 comes up to me wearing The Husband's old stethoscope in his ears. He places the bell (listening part) on my left thigh.

"Take a deep breath."

I inhale slowly and exhale.

He listens intently. "I hear something!"

I appear to have passed.

He moves on to his next patient.

(Would not want to know how much his malpractice premium is. But I like his bedside manner. That makes up for lack of technical skill, you know. Says my thigh.)

Mental note: do better job of teaching anatomy

Boy: Are you feeding him [Boy2] with your elbow?

...and the boy crush

Have I told you how much I love my boy? My boy makes me swoon. His dancing on command? Adorable. His dimples? Impossibly cute. I am routinely lost in a gaze, taking in everything about him. My boy, he is perfection.

Today was his 18-month old well-child visit. I was dreading the shots, of course. With each subsequent visit, I've been dreading the shots, knowing he is older and less gullible. Hey! I know what  you're going to do with that pointy harpoon! I declare a mutiny!

I was pleasantly surprised to hear that only one shot was needed (hep A #2). One shot I could deal with. (Two sets of 2 into each meaty thigh, less so.)

We had a new pediatrician in the group who I liked from the moment I saw her. Older. Confident. Funny. We related well. She thought she recognized me from somewhere but I didn't let on to my profession (sometimes it's better that way). The Boy charmed her like an old pro Ladies' Man. Charm-er. He was fabulously cooperative and in non-whine-fest mode. The pediatrician asked if we could please schedule his next appointment with her again since she wanted to keep seeing him. I'm telling you, this boy is going to be a heartbreaker.

At Immunizations, The Boy sat in my lap as the nurse came all surprise-attack on his left thigh. I watched as the needle sank deep into his leg and watched the muscle tense up. I braced myself for the cry....okay, maybe the delay cry...and DUDE. THERE WAS NO CRY. Nothing. Poof. Gone. Over. He was eating an apple and rocking his head from side to side like party on. Granted, his thigh is no scrawny chicken leg, but still, my boy rocks.

I kissed his head all over, in a fit of mother's pride.

This boy. I love my boy.

He reaches for her hand, too

Holding on

Instead of the wriggling and the twists, he sinks into me, nuzzling his head against my chest, and falls near instantly asleep. Suddenly, I am holding a sleeping baby. My not so little baby. My arms are wrapped around his body: a warm cocoon of fleece. I close my eyes and hear his sleeping breaths.

I am afraid to swallow.

My baby, my big baby, is in my arms, sleeping. It feels like a dream. It feels ephemeral, as if he will wake up and walk away a child.

He is going to be walking soon.

His head smells of Johnson's Baby Shampoo.

In my arms, my tightly wrapped arms, I feel short bursts of movement. His right foot momentarily in my left thigh. His left hand against my right shoulder. He caresses his hair, as if in reflex, then stops. His breathing deepens. Soft snoring. Like music.

I am so lucky right now, I think. He is sleeping in my arms. It is luxurious. I am afraid to think too loudly. Afraid to move for upsetting this perfect symbiosis. He needs my body in exactly these coordinates to keep sleeping. And I dare not move a hair. I need this too.

Against my torso, legs frogged against my thighs, I imagine him in a similar curled up position in utero. This was us, once. And now, look.

I never want to get up from the glider. If he could sleep soundly on me for a few more hours. Inside, I'm desperately trying to memorize this weight, this feeling, the fleece, the Baby Shampoo, the frogged legs, the breaths, the pose, the flutters of movement.

***

This dream lasted for three nights. Later, the wriggling and twists returned. Moments of resting into  me, only to be followed by movements of discontent. I knew it was too good to last as long as I wanted. Instead, he waits until I deposit him into the crib, for the moment of giving in to sleep. And suddenly, I'm holding on to only a memory. Holding on to the baby he once was and will never be again.

Remember this when it seems like so long since they were babies

Remember, you, how his chubby legs would kick under the high chair tray, whenever he was happy.

Remember crawling into her bed, arms draping around each other, as her hand stroked your hair with the gentleness of the early morning.

Remember how she insisted to be the one to give him Cheerios, spreading a few for him on his tray, and a few for her in the far well.

Remember how, tonight, he nursed, his eyes slowly moving under his half-closed eyes. How he quietly came off the breast, slipping in a thumb just in place. How his body rested perfectly cradled in your arms, form-fitting your nooks with his head, and torso and legs. How his eyes still moved, ever so slowly, under mostly closed eyes, still barely sucking his thumb. You didn't want to leave.

Remember all lying on her bed, at bedtime, reading first prayers and singing Joy to the World, her favorite. In chorus.

Remember dancing the tango with him, cheek to cheek. How you would hold his hand in yours, his tiny fist clasping your thumb. How he'd laugh with delight with every pivot and squeal with every baby dip.

Remember sitting on the porch swing with him, waiting for her to come home from school. How she'd light with excitement upon seeing him. And you.

Remember how he'd follow you everywhere, crawling to catch up. How he'd want to be held every so often. By only you.

Remember conspiring with her. When you felt like her best friend.

Remember walking though the back door and seeing him after a long day at work. How you would coo and fawn be filled with joy. How you would pick him up and hold him to you like you were savoring the most delicate treasure. How you couldn't stop kissing him, over and over. You would close your eyes and breathe him with every breath.

Remember leaving for work, blowing her kisses through the car window. And sometimes air hugs.

Remember how much she loved him. Just how good she was to him. Because she is so good. And loving.

And how he loves her. Kicking his feet under the high chair tray to see her.

Remember this, you. Remember this time.

With apologies to AC/DC

You Took Me All Night Long


He was a breast machine
His rooting bordered mean
He was the best damn suckler I had ever seen
He had these hungry eyes
And some loud-ass cries
Knockin’ me out with those gums that bite
Taking more than his share
Had me fighting for air
He cried for me to come with my boob in the air

‘Cause his crib starts shaking
His mouth was taking
My boobs were aching
And we were nursing and you-

Took me all night long

Pumping double time
On the suction lines
He was one of the kind, “Those boobs are mine all mine!”
He wanted no night rest
Just a pig-out fest
Made a meal out of me and then breakfast
Had to PureLan me down
To take another round
Now I'm back in the ring for another swig

‘Cause his crib starts shaking
His mouth was taking
My boobs were aching
And we were nursing and you-

Took me all night long

Medical Advice Monday: Leptin disorder

Leptin is a hormone that helps regulate appetite and metabolism. Its gene is located on human chromosome 7. When leptin binds to the ventral medial nucleus of the hypothalamus (area of brain sometimes called the "appetite center,") the sensation of satiety results.

Homozygous mutations of the leptin gene thus result in obesity and hyperphagia - constant hunger and need for food. In fact, the gene was discovered in 1994 by studying mutant mice with leptin disorders who were massively obese and hyperphagic.

Obese people appear to have higher circlating levels of leptin, despite the fact that is a signal which decreases appetite. It is postulated that the obese may be resistant to leptin signaling, effectively insensitive to its effects.

Thankfully, homozygous mutations of the gene are rare. As babies, they may appear "cute" or "chubby", but pretty soon, they are busting through walls like the Kool-Aid guy.


Example of baby with leptin mutation:

You think he can't possibly by hungry again, but, OH, YES HE IS.

*Note: mother is heterozygous for leptin disorder yet also suffers with postpartum hyperphagia and persistent largeness. Please pity the entire family.