Category: Lucas

The not-yet-toddling menace

I am finding this particular stage of Lucas’s development exhausting. No, really? EXHAUSTING. Also exasperating, challenging, and frustrating. (And, to be fair, delightful and charming and wonderful.) But mostly, exhausting.

He stubbornly refuses to walk on his own, even though he can stand with no problem, has walked across the room unaided, and can perch himself precariously on a peanut butter jar, presumably to get the jam hidden on a higher shelf in the pantry.

But he can climb up and down an entire flight of stairs, make his way on and off the sofa, and simply cannot resist an opportunity to clamber onto something… chairs, end tables, diaper crates and toy boxes (not to mention, as I said, peanut butter jars.) The good thing is that he really is getting pretty good at getting himself back down again, so if I’m nearby I can at least supervise and let him climb up and down to his heart’s content. This assumes that I am at liberty to stand benevolently nearby for the 16 hours per day he would prefer to engage in his furniture-scaling adventures.

When he isn’t trying to climb every elevated surface within two feet of the floor, he’s dumping stuff. Emptying cupboards of their pots, drawers of their tea-towels, and bookshelves of their books is *almost* as much fun as climbing into the cupboard and drawers and onto the now-empty bookshelves.

In the 10 minutes it takes to make sandwiches for lunch, he can create a mess that takes me 20 minutes to clean up. I pick up the books, he dumps the plastic plates and cups from the cupboard. I pick up the plastic plates and cups, he ransacks the shoe closet. I rearrange the shoes, he dumps the books off the book shelf. I found the TV remote in the dog’s food bowl yesterday and he unfolded an entire basket of folded laundry in the time it took me to answer a telephone call.

Did I mention exhausting?

At the end of a long day, I look at Tristan and Simon and think, “They survived — and I survived them. Surely this phase doesn’t last forever.” It just seems particularly taxing, not to mention early, to be struggling with this at only 14 months. It’s a good thing he’s so darn adorable, I tell him frequently. Only the cutest babies get away with that kind of ongoing mischief without finding themselves packed up and shipped off to Granny’s house!

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It’s hard not to indulge this kind of cuteness. But please tell me that this phase is a short one! The toddler years are not yet upon us and I’m already running out of reserve energy!!

I am so farked

This third child will be the one that does all the frightful things that the first two never did, won’t he? Now that poor old mom is too worn down to properly fight back.

83:365 Mischief in the pantry

Standing on the peanut butter jar (!) so he can reach deeper into the pantry. He’s all of 14 months old and can’t even WALK yet, for goodness sake!!

In which we talk about Lucas’s other favourite boob

Baby’s first smile, first laugh. The first time baby slept through the night. Baby’s first food, and the first meal baby feeds to himself. Baby’s first tentative steps, and baby’s first words. All milestones worthy of marking on the calendar, of noting, of celebrating.

And now, finally, after a YEAR of waiting — baby’s first favourite TV show. Actually, the first time the baby shows even the remotest interest in TV in general.

Yah, yah, I know. Both the Canadian and the American pediatric societies recommend against television for babies. Perhaps the Canadian and American pediatric societies don’t have full-time jobs and two other kids to take care of? Perhaps the Canadian and American pediatric societies LIKE to try going to the bathroom while diverting the baby from a rousing game of lick-the-toiletbrush? Perhaps the Canadian and American pediatric societies are eating a whole lot of takeout food?

It’s no secret we’re TV junkies at my place, and Tristan and Simon both loved the flickering electric nipple from an early age. We have more than a dozen Baby Einstein videos and DVDs, not to mention countless others: Bob the Builder, the Wiggles, and enough Thomas the Tank Engine to choke a conductor. And yet, despite our best efforts to ensnare him, the baby has steadfastly refused to be engaged by the idiot box. Perhaps because it is *always* on, he’d no more stare at it than at the sofa, or the vacuum cleaner. (You’d leave yours out, too, if you were using it ten times a week!)

But! Oh happy day, we have finally found a television program that captivates Lucas. And not only that, but he’s showing a remarkable amount of discernment in his first choice of favourite TV show. No whiney Caillou for my boy, nor pedantic Barney. No lispy ducks, no freakish blobs, no little blue doggies to endure. Nope, this is TV I myself could, and will, and DO watch happily for hours, and DVDs that are well worth investing in.

You know what show captivates Lucas? You haven’t seen from cute until you’ve seen him wiggling his little happy dance to its iconic theme.

Lucas loves the Muppet Show. Glory be.

Day one of begging for votes, and already she’s exploiting the kids

This is what happens at the intersection of “Oh crap, I need to take a photo today!” and “Oh crap, how am I ever going to get enough people to vote to send me to BlogHer?”

24:365 Vote for me!! Vote for me!!

How could you deny this cutie? If you haven’t already, pleasevote for me!!!!

A love letter to Lucas, Age 1

My darling baby Lucas,

Has it only been a year you have been in our lives? Has it already been a year? How can both of those things seem so surprising at the same time?

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You, my third son, my beautiful baby boy, are one year old today. I don’t have the words to tell you how much you are loved, and how much love you have given to us in just one short year.

I'm your big brother!

Lucas, you are a delightful baby. You find new ways to charm me, and new ways to vex me, every single day. You are not quite walking yet, although I’m sure you could if you just let yourself try. You crawl at the speed of light, though, and you cruise the furniture while making delighted little caws of accomplishment. “Look at me go!” your bright face and happy chirps are clearly saying.

And go you do. We call you a menace, several times a day, because you do not miss a single opportunity to find mischief. With a hundred toys to choose from, you’ll find the one with the not-baby-safe parts and then refuse to give it up without a fight. With an entire house to play in, you have an impeccable sense of when a door is left open, a baby gate ajar, a cup of coffee momentarily abandoned within your reach.

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Speaking of coffee, one of your cutest little “tricks” at this age has come very close to making me spew many mouthsful of coffee down my shirt, but I’ve finally come to anticipate it and not snort with laughter every time you do it. Some time in the last month, you took to letting out a satisfied, “Ahhhhh” every time you saw me take a deep drink from my cup of coffee. Given the amount of coffee I’ve drank lately, you’ve had plenty of time to hone this particular trick! Clever thing that you are, as soon as you realized it made us laugh, you took to smacking out the same satisfied “Ahhhh!” any time anybody takes a drink of anything in your presence. It’s such an odd little trick, but endlessly entertaining to your entire family!

You are an impressive mimic. For months now, you have delighted us with your babbling, which sound uncannily like real words. When we sing “your song”, which is a play on BNL’s “La la la Lemon” that goes “La la la Lukey-fish” you love to join in on the la-la-la chorus. You also happily sing along to your other song, Great Big Sea’s Lukey. We can often coerce you out of a foul mood with a few bellowed verses of either song, and when you sing along with us it simply melts my heart.

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You have an impressive set of lungs, too, and have learned that nothing will get you what you want quicker than an ear-splitting screech. Your favourite time to employ this tactic, aside from when we are sitting down to dinner and there is the possibility that you may soon not have an adequate supply of food in front of you, is when we are in a public place that calls for a certain amount of vocal restraint. Passers-by still seem to find you uncommonly adorable, though, and you’ve had more than your share of cooing strangers everywhere we go.

Once upon a time, you slept like a dream at night. We’ve dropped that particular thread in the past few months, but you seem to have traded excellent nighttime sleep for more reasonable daytime naps. I’m still not sure I’m happy with this trade! In the last month or so you so completely wore me down that I’ve now capitulated entirely to your will, and it’s a rare night that you don’t spend at least a couple of hours sleeping in my bed with me. With you, my third child, I’ve finally realized that it’s okay for principles to melt run like spring runoff in the face of sleep deprivation.

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At the age of one, you are easily delighted. Finding a brother taking a bath seems to be particularly delightful, based on your happy chirps. Having a brother pay any sort of playful attention to you at all is another daily delight, as is playing tickle and tumble with Daddy or me. You love the “One Baby” series of books, to make “vroom” noises while pushing toy trucks, and the mouse on the computer that you aren’t supposed to touch.

8:365 Lucas in the morning light

I could go on for hours, my sweet baby Lucas, listing the ways in which you bring love and laughter and joy into our lives. Not to mention a few more grey hairs and wrinkles than I had this time last year! But let me finish with this simple wish: may your whole life be filled with the same delightful charm and exhuberance that is you at the age of one. Happy Birthday, my love!

Lucas the amazing interactive baby

I’ve always said that six to nine months old is one of my favourite baby ages. Old enough to sit up but not old enough to creep around; old enough to love you obviously and joyfully but not old enough to be prone to tantrums; old enough to babble but not old enough to talk back yet.

Lucas at almost nine months is a delightful baby – if you don’t mind the 32 minute naps. I forgot how early babies become interactive, instead of just slobbery little blobs. He is fascinated by the boys and the pets, and loves when the boys pay attention to him. The other day, I was putting his coat on telling him that we were on our way out to get Simon at school, and as soon as I said “Simon” he started craning his head around looking for him. Way too cute!

He’s very talkative. I’m really so very not surprised about that. Hell, you have to be vocal to be heard around our house. What’s cute is how he imitates us. He not only repeats one of three varieties of babble (ahhhh, ba-ba-ba, or da-da-da) but modulates his voice to mimic us. We’re working on ma-ma-ma, but he’s not quite there yet. And there’s no doubt he understands a lot of what we say. I just about fell over the other day when I said, “Lucas, where’s your toes?” and he reached over and grabbed them.

My absolute favourite baby trick, though, is this. About a month ago, I was rocking him to sleep and singing to him when I realized that he wasn’t just cooing softly to himself — in itself almost heartbreakingly endearing — but he was humming along with me as I sang to him. At which point I became a gelatinous ooze of maternal love and forgave him a years’ worth of 32 minute naps.

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Isn’t he delicious?

Granny’s Revenge

I was flipping through Tristan’s baby calendar the other day, comparing Tristan and Lucas at seven months of age. (Heartbreakingly, I seem to have lost my 2004 kitchen calendar with all of Simon’s baby milestones. I have every other year since 2001; I’m hoping it presents itself out of the clutter one of these days.) It was interesting to compare my first and my third. I can see, for instance, that they’re nearly the same weight, give or take half a pound on twenty pounds. (Simon, I seem to remember, hit 20 lbs around four months of age!)

What really surprised me, though, was that Tristan was standing and “cruising the furniture” and up on his hands and knees rocking in a pre-crawl motion at this age whereas Lucas has only just reliably mastered sitting up. I’m sure this has everything to do with their own developmental clocks and nothing to do with the fact that every time Lucas begins to lift himself up I sweep his knees out from under him and squash him back down to the ground. Sorry, kid, I’m just not ready for you to get mobile. How’s two years from now by you?

On the other hand, my mother is on the cusp of getting banned from the house. Every time she gets near Lucas, she’s got him standing up on his feet, holding him while he bounces and encouraging him to walk. And muttering something about “Granny’s Revenge.” I don’t think she believes me, but so help me I’ll ban her from the house if she teaches that baby to walk before his first birthday!