Torsten/picture catchup #3: 10 months – Movin’ on up!

(N.B. Although this is being written nearly 6 months after-the-fact, this post is made up from snippets of drafts I tried to write at the time he was actually 10 months. Also, as usual, click on the pictures to see bigger versions. This is a very picture-intensive post, so for those of you who look below the cut, beware…)

Whew. This has quite seriously been a month for the record books.

It started with us coming back from Europe – we left with a baby who couldn’t crawl yet,  we returned with a baby who could easily take over the house the moment we had our backs turned and rewire the nearest electronics into sentient toasters. I know everyone says to childproof your house before the baby comes, but really, who listens to that? (Hint: not us.) We’ve kind of fenced in the living room for the time being and put foam down on the floor, because we were having a really hard time listening to your poor little noggin hit the hardwood floors every time your attempts to stand failed. You still hit your head on things, but it’s much less awful this way.

(Note: much more below the cut for those who can see it. If you don’t see anything at all after this text, please visit the original post to see the rest.)

You are really, really close to walking, kiddo. It may not happen for another couple of months, who knows, but you zip back and forth along the couch as if there’s no tomorrow, and you sometimes forget to hold on to things as you walk along. Papa apparently walks you up and down the hall at work, with you attached to his pant legs, and you are forever trying to bridge the distance between two places you want to be by holding on to as many things as possible so that you don’t have to crawl. More and more often, you’re successful, even if that means letting go for a second or two.

This development, along with the fact that your first tooth is in, but you have five more coming in at the same time right now, has meant bad, bad things for Mama and Papa’s sleep. See, we don’t do the “cry it out” thing. Not at all. And we really don’t mind that your crib is in our room either, or that more often than not you end up in bed with us at 4 am after sleeping for several hours in the crib. Old Mothers of Doom, say what you want about it, but that’s the way we do things here at Haus Grothoff. Things have been this way for a while, and it’s been mostly fine now that you’re older.

Well, except for now. See, those teeth thingies? They hurt. And having five coming in at once on top of the one that has just broken through is really not fun for small monsters. So in spite of the fact that we do give you Orajel at night (which does help you get to sleep some nights), at some point, you’ve had it and you need cuddling, milk, rocking, or whatever. This alone might be OK, but add this to the fact that you stand up and walk around your crib when you wake up crying (thus waking yourself up even more), and you get a Mama and a Papa who are spending an awful lot of time with Torsten at night.

Back in June, you were getting through the night with one, maybe two (and occasionally no) night waking(s). In fact, since Papa and I divide the night shift at 3 am, it was often true that we’d end up alternating your single night feeding on one side or the other of 3 am, so one of us often had the opportunity, occasionally, to sleep without interruption (although since I get up with you bright and early in the morning, I still ended up exhausted most days…). It was getting better. But then came the teeth, and the walking, and the readjusting to life back in Denver, and so now we’re back to the old days of not-so-much sleep.

Now Internets, I know you have Theories about The Right Way to Get Babies to Sleep ™. I know you do, and the reason I know you do is I read lots of opinionated posts about the subject from various people for whom Book X and Approach Y worked. Goodie for you. I am of the opinion, after seeing how many babies on my pregnancy board are no longer sleeping through the night (and how many have never done so), as well as reading friends’ blogs and discovering that their older children have never slept through the night no matter what they’ve tried, that if those things worked for you, great, but it’s mostly a matter of luck. I can recall being three or four and still bugging my parents all the time at night and the early morning (which is probably why I walked in on them “wrestling” once, but we won’t go there…). So I suspect we’re in this for the long haul.

But I digress. (As usual…)

We’ve also realized that you’re really a sturdy guy now, and because you’re so much bigger than other babies (and you’ve had a lot of body stability for months now), we can do some things with you that we might not have felt comfortable with when you were smaller. Like biking.

Papa loves biking more than anything (except you, and some days, Mama ). He has a not-so-secret desire to install a rocket-propelled grenade launcher onto his bike to eliminate all of the cars going by (thus making more room for bikes), and he bikes everywhere. He even biked down Sunset Blvd. in L.A. every day when he was at UCLA, which is an insane way to get yourself killed. Fortunately, he survived, and he is a lot more careful now, because…

That’s right. Torsten is now bike-ready and sits in his seat on Papa’s bike to go in to work with him once a week. You sing and look at everything and are very, very happy about this new mode of transportation – the only thing you hate is putting on the helmet, but once you get going, you even forget about that. The only thing cooler than biking with Papa, I think, is biking with Papa while Mama bikes next to you. We did that through the park and you couldn’t quite figure out what was going on – Mama had to bike in front of you guys just so that you didn’t squirm your body around in the seat to figure out what Mama was doing on wheels.

Let’s see – what else… ah yes. You have discovered the joy of blowing raspberries on everything, especially (but not limited to) bellies, shoulders when you’re supposed to be going to sleep, and (for some reason) the couch. You even aim for Mama’s tattoo once you decide, yet again, that you will not be able to pull it off of her ribcage, and that tickles like crazy, but you and Mama and Papa giggle and giggle and life is good.

In fact, the giggling is one of the best parts of you right now. You’ve discovered how to play and have fun like never before. You chase Mama around and around the recliner, and usually you figure out just when to stop so that you can turn the other way and catch me. I’m so proud of you for having learned how to trick me at such a young age, though perhaps I shouldn’t be You also talk and talk and talk, and you actually sound like you mean what you’re saying, though I have no idea what you’re talking about. It’s awesome, though, and some of the things you say sound more and more like “Mama”, “Papa”, and “ball”, so we know you’re on your way.

There’s another first in here this month which Mama is loathe to talk about (see this post for the story), but it turned out OK in the end, so I guess it’s all good. This month, you got your first haircut.

You were awesome – you got to sit in a little car while the stylist cut your hair, and you were such a good boy. She had all sorts of cool tricks to keep your attention, and in the end, we got a cute little boy with a frighteningly grown-up haircut.

You’re such a big boy now, much bigger than the other little boys your age. Poor you… Every time we go to the playground, some desperate mother with a bored, crying baby will see you, and I’ll hear, “Hey Max/Sam/Ethan/Dylan, look at that little boy in the swing! He looks like he’s about your age!”

And then I have to break the bad news. No, my baby is not as old as your 18-24 month old baby. He’s just looks that way. He’s 10 months old and he’s got a very, very tall Papa. At that point, it breaks into short mommy small-talk and she and her little boy go away. I’m sorry about that – but since you don’t walk yet, there is a limit on the rough-and-tumble you can tolerate, so I go for full disclosure.

And then there’s the other side – we meet up with a family that has a 7-12 month old, and you are SO much bigger that although you’re old enough to play, they look at you warily like, “You will CRUSH my daughter.” And I just want to say, “But he’s a very nice boy!” And you are! Last week, you met a 7-month-old at a debate watching party and you were at least twice her size, but you were sooooo gentle with her, even stroking her hair sweetly instead of pulling it (unnatural for you, and I cannot say the same for what you did to the cat…). You’re a really good kid.

Thank God our playgroup starts next month, seriously, because you love and need other kids, and it appears the playground ain’t the place to find them just now. Maybe when you’re old enough to SAY “I will crush your son” it will be ok.

But it saddens Mama, because you’re a sweet little boy, and you need the company of other babies.

Of course, you don’t mind – you’re perfectly happy having Mama and Papa as playmates, but we think it’s a good idea for you to, you know, get out and socialize more. (If I’m not, someone has to!)

I know I say this all the time, little guy, but you’re growing up so fast, and you really are an amazing kid. Pretty soon you won’t be a baby anymore, but I’d like to hold on to Baby Torsten for just a little longer if it’s ok with you

I love you very much!

Mama