7 Reasons Why Camden is Like a Little Old Man

It's becoming increasingly obvious that Camden (and babies/toddlers in general) are a lot like the elderly.

Here are seven reasons why:

[1] Walks funny when he's got a loaded diaper

[2] Gums his food prior to swallowing

[3] Wears Velcro shoes and tube socks

[4] Gets real cranky if he misses his afternoon nap

[5] Eats prunes to help keep him regular

[6] Eats dinner promptly at 5pm

[7] Wears a jogging suit and walks with a purpose while strolling through the neighborhood, fully engaging his hips and arms

Am I right?

Take Luck,

LP

10 on 10: March 2014

10 on 10: 10 pictures on the 10th day of the month!

Document a snapshot of your life & find beauty among the ordinary things in your day!

I was traveling on February 10th, feeling totally uninspired, and decided to spare you from pictures of an airplane, an air sick bag, and my luggage.

You're welcome.

[1] My breakfast.  A Paleo breakfast casserole!

[2] Hammy eating his breakfast - waffles and banana

[3] Poor Brock is a small dog trapped in a big dog's body.

[4] Bags and kitchen utensils litter the kitchen floor.  Every night.

[5] He really, really loves his pink sippy

[6] Our dinner.  Spaghetti and broccoli!

[7] Daddy and Cammy play time

[8] High fives all around

[9] If you can't read in the bathtub, where can you read?

[10] Baby selfie

Take Luck,

LP

Awkward

I am starting to feel that I'm just a generally awkward person.  Awkward situations seem to follow me everywhere.

Source

Case in point: After work on Friday, I swung by the bank to deposit some checks.  I pulled up to the post, filled out my deposit slip, and sent the tube through the vacuum.  The bank teller appeared in the window and gave a warm welcome, telling me she would have my receipt right out.

Apparently I didn't designate the account (checking or savings) to deposit the money, so she needed clarification.  When I poked my head out the car window to respond, I realized that I was talking into the microphone and not looking at the teller through her window - which she could clearly see me from.  Then I felt my face flush as I realized I wasn't sure where I should look and speak.  Do I look at the window and talk through the microphone?  Or do I look at the microphone and speak, pretending like the teller isn't there?

Totally ridiculous.  Yet, I make it awkward.  Cuz that's what I do.  Apparently.

This encounter got me thinking about all the other awkward things that have happened recently.

- Approaching someone in the hallway and you both move in the same direction to get out of the other's way, only to move again and you continue to block each other

- Not knowing someone's name when they clearly know yours

-  Trying on a clothing item, seeing it doesn't fit, and getting stuck in it while trying to peel it off your body (Because panic-induced sweating and heavy breathing totally helps)

- Asking someone about their significant other only to find out they aren't together anymore

- Holding open a door for someone and they walk right past

- Using the phrase, "you too," when it doesn't apply (Namely, at the movie theater when the cashier tells you to enjoy the movie and you say, "you too")

- Waving back to someone who is actually waving to the person behind you

- Sarcasm getting confused with a serious comment

- Saying my name to someone face-to-face and they still think I said "Warren"

Please, please tell me that some of these awkward situations happen to you?

Take Luck,

LP

The D Word

Daycare.  Daycare (and the daycare setting) has haunted me since before Camden was born.

My dear friend, Jessica, swooped in and saved my sanity when she offered to watch Cam for us when I returned to work full time.  It was a temporary arrangement that turned into 10 months' worth of love and care.  Camden clearly loved it there and I was comfortable/confident with the care he was getting, and loved being able to check in with Jessica whenever I wanted throughout the day.  So, in early December when Jessica decided she wanted to go back to school, it was time for us to face the daycare music.  I was sad, but kept reminding myself that Cam wasn't a little 3-month old baby anymore, and I just needed to get over myself.

I immediately put him on the wait list for one of the local childcare facilities.  Never having been there before, I went and took a tour of the facility. As I stood there taking it all in, my chest got tight and a giant lump in my throat kept getting bigger and higher.  This place wasn't bad.  I know mama's that send their kiddos there and love it.  But I was completely overwhelmed by the thought of my sweet babe going from being one of two kiddos in a cozy house, to one of 40 snot nose rug rats in a big facility.  There was an unpleasant smell in one of the two pre-toddler rooms, and at first I thought that one (or more) of the little ankle biters had a poopy diaper.  But the longer I lingered, the more I realized it wasn't that kind of smell, and in fact, I couldn't definitively identify the stench.  I'm not a clean freak, but this was just too much, and it sent me over the edge.  I left, fleeing the premises without the warm and fuzzy feeling I was hoping for.

I started researching other options - both private, in-home and facilities/centers.  I politely said, "Thank you," hung up, and snorted in disgust upon hearing some of the prices for several of the local facilities.  Good grief people!  I need to be able to feed my little pig, too!

Coincidentally, a co-worker had a birthday gift for Camden and we swung by to pick it up.  While chit-chatting I was telling her about our need for change in child care arrangements and my experience with the facility I toured.  She immediately offered me her child care provider's business card, gave me the low-down, and I was 98% sold.  I figured, if this person, who's opinion I value and respect, sends her sweet kiddos to this lady - she must be OK.

I called and set up a meeting for the next day so we could come check things out.  The gal and I chatted while Camden raced toward the kitchen set, making himself right at home by banging the pots and pans.  I immediately felt at ease picturing him in this home environment with only a few other kiddos.  Watching her interact with the few kids that were there that day - I felt like she was a perfect combination of structure and relaxation.

The first few weeks with the change were tough - mostly because I didn't know this person at all and bam(!) I'm leaving my child with her.  What made it even harder was that right about the time Camden started the new daycare, he developed some separation anxiety.  Super great timing, little dude!  He would cling to me, cry (alligator tears crying), and jut that pouty lip out like no one's business.  The crying would start before I even got him out of the car, for goodness sakes!  I had to institute a "drop and run" rule.  No lingering.  No waving.  Just kiss, handoff, and run.

I really, really beat myself up over this - wondering if it was an age thing, if he was just super comfortable with Jessica, or - did he not like it at his daycare?  I already have serious mama guilt issues.  This was just another pancake on the stack that was making me feel like the worst person in the world to be leaving him in that state every day.  The daycare gal assured me that he stopped the blubbering and was fine soon after I left.  He'd get distracted by the cat, Milo (who he LOVES) and the other kiddos and have a great, happy camper-Cam kind of day!  Inside, I was just crumbling because the last image I had in my head - was him reaching for me and cry, cry, crying.  This went on, and on, and on, and on.

(I promise my kid is not under the influence of drugs).

To make matters worse, Jessica watched him just last week for an hour (while I had my very belated birthday massage).  We came inside, I sat him on the floor, gave Jess the rundown, gave him a kiss and said "bye-bye," all while trying to get out the door in a flash so not to unleash the tears and lip.  What do you think my little man cub did?  He stood up (ALL smiles) and waved bye-bye back to me.   Uh, what?  Who IS this child?!  

Needless to say, my super relaxing massage time was spent with my mind racing - wondering if I'm doing the right thing.  Is he happy at daycare?  Is he trying to tell me something?  Should I investigate a new daycare?  Gah. 

This week (this frigging week!) he finally stopped the clinging, crying, and pouty lip at drop off.  Three frigging months after starting in her care and we're over the drop off hump.  Good grief.

I do have to say that I've very happy with Cam's daycare lady and the care, love, and attention that Camden seems to get.  There are four or five other kiddos there on a daily basis, so he's getting lots of socialization and interaction.  They do baby yoga, celebrate holiday's with little parties, and do art projects.  Our refrigerator is starting to overflow with hand/feet-prints and scribbled coloring pages.

(Yes. That's my child. Not participating in yoga and running amok). 

Yesterday, I was driving up the road and noticed some kids were playing outside in the front yard.  I slowed down and stopped before reaching the driveway because I was witnessing the cutest thing.  Four kiddos were walking in the grass, one following the other, looking like little ducks.  Which little duck do you think was pulling up the rear?  Hammy.  Hammy in his hoody, too-big pants and Velcro Adidas shoes.  I about died.  And really, really wish I had my Nikon in the car to document.

The smile on his face was priceless and to see him be independent and thriving in this environment (pretty much) made the anxieties and doubts I've been having the past three months wash away.   

So, congratulations, you've just finished reading the longest blog post on daycare in the history of blog posts about daycare.  You deserve a medal.  Or a hug.

Take Luck,
LP

Dada Baby

Hi.

I'm still alive, but have a severe case of blog writing aversion.  I have been busy enjoying life and my loves - little and big.  I sit in front of a computer all day, so the last thing I want to do when I get home from work is power up my Mac and think of ways to regale you with my wit and dramatics.

(You're welcome).

Not much has been going on around these parts.  Ryan turned 30 this past weekend and because I'm such a loving wife, I continually remind him that he is now in his 30's and I'm... still in my 20's.  Camden continues to be the light in our lives and I truly, truly cherish and love that little bugger more every day.  (Even last night when he was naked, arching his back, and trashing as I tried to coax/drag him away from the pacifier he knew was hiding in his crib under a blanket).

Just prior to the naked thrashing session, I was giving him a bath.  I don't remember exactly what I said to Camden, but it was something about him being my baby.  Ryan piped up from the living room and said, "I thought I was your baby?!"  It sparked a conversation that went a little something like this:

Me: You are my big baby.

Ryan: Yes, I'm a big baby.

Me: Don't I know it.

Camden: Dada baby

Certain that I had just imagined those two clear-as-day words coming from those sweet lips - I poked my head out of the bathroom and practically yelled to Ryan, "Did you hear that?!"  We laughed (and laughed, and laughed).  Cam started splashing and laughing too because somehow he knows that he's adorable and funny.  Of course, I kept saying, "dada baby" to try and encourage him to say it again - but 10 unanswered attempts only proved that I can indeed put together two word sentences.

I hope to get back into a somewhat normal routine of posting.  I feel like I have so much and so little to write about - all at the same time.    

Take Luck,
LP