Espen's Teeth and Dropping Meat In Public

Espen's first top tooth has made an appearance this week.  I cannot say for certain if it plans on staying out for the long haul, but it's a very impressive debut.  You know how everything always feels HUGE when it comes to mouth developments? Say a cut, or a chipped tooth.  It's like there's a titanic anomaly threatening to take over your entire oral cavity. Well. This tooth probably feels like the Missoula Ice Dam breaking and rushing through  the baby Columbia River Gorge.

In order to assuage Espen's potential, or real, discomfort, I accidentally stumbled upon a grand solution.  Forget those plastic teething toys, the real order of soothing teething distress is beef jerky. It's tasty, tough, and simultaneously soft enough to give baby gums a good massage.  Espen loved it.

He loved it so much he kept his whip of jerky clenched in his little paw as we moseyed around thrift stores and antique malls.  He oohhed and ahhhed over victorian chaise lounges with me, all the while drooling his dried cow into an squishy mass of masticated meat. He waved his meat hook gaily at the very somber antique dealer reigning supreme over the fanciest store on the block.  

Espen is the friendliest little human on the planet. He has never yet met a stranger and uses his most charming "Eh!" to get a person's attention when he sees them.  It's impossible for anyone with a soul to resist.  And yet, somehow, there are still the select few who choose to ignore the sunshine.  Said antique dealer was one of them.

We walked out of the store ten minutes later with good ideas for decorating and a sense of awe that a re-print of a map could cost 900.00.  He was cooing and gooing animatedly, commenting, I thought, on the outrageous mark-up.  

But wait. Something...was...missing.....

Where. Is. Baby's. Slimy Meat Teething Accessory.

I'll admit right here and now, that shop was empty except for us. There wasn't even a dog to pin it on.  Nope.

And more shamefully, did I walk back there and hunt down the meat surprise?

Nope.

Parents, friends, I hang my head in shame. SHAME! 

Ok, and maybe a little evil delight at the thought of said pompous dealer going to shut the shop for the night and noticing a little pile of....what is that?!?!?!?

Why Parents Really Get Tired

As a general rule, I'd say that I'm a pretty emotionally courageous person. For example, I just found my diaries from childhood where I describe things like bone marrow aspirations and Congestive Heart Failure. Survived that.  Interspersed between the hospital stays and chemo are stories of my upbringing in a religious cult. Managed to get out of that with a sense of humor intact, even after a nervous breakdown in Thailand.  Rebounded from a quarter life crisis, an abortion, a miscarriage, living below the poverty line for years, and ended up meeting the love of my life on a 500 mile pilgrimage across Spain.  

This gamut of life experiences has put me through my emotional paces and made me a more resilient human. There's not a whole lot that phases me or takes me for a ride.

Until I became mother to Espen Camino Eld-Mathis.

Now I realize that babies cry because they are communicating various things.  I'm hungry. Tired. Frustrated. Lonely. Angry.  What they don't tell you is that the volume and intensity of your baby's cry draws its energy directly from the life force that makes your own heart beat.

I can set my baby down for his nap, knowing that he has been hugged, read to, changed, rocked, fed, and entertained as much as he would tolerate, and STILL, when he opens his mouth and WAILS,  I can literally feel my energy levels revving up to fill the gap. Why? Because I may have given and done EVERYTHING I can think of to do and spent every last emotional penny trying to procure a satisfied baby customer, but none of that matters when The Cry That Pierced His Mother's Heart issues its demands.

Tired mom? Doesn't matter. Baby. Must. Be. Loved.  Even if I am doing dishes in the kitchen, resolved to let him work out his frustrations so he can learn to put himself to sleep, I am still beaming him every particle of love and comfort the universe has to offer around his crib and into his little baby heart.

I may have had my moments of doubt as to the possibility of remote healing before becoming a mother, but now, I am firmly convinced that energy can be exchanged between parties physically separated by space. All I have to do is go into another room when Espen cries, and I can feel the transfer occurring.

This to say, I stand before you all, humbled, an emotional titan no more.  Espen has shown me how very fragile and fluid I really am. I thank him for this revelation even as I drag myself about at the end of the day emotionally exhausted yet ready to do it all again the next day.  I thank him because as much as it stretches and pains me to love so inevitably, it makes the greens so much greener and the days brighter than I ever imagined possible.

New Years-Espen Walks! He Waves!

Well folks, here's what the baby was working on.

Yep, his Brio came yesterday, on his 9 month birthday, and within minutes of its final assembly, he was on a mission.  The baby is a flaneur. Well, actually, he'd probably run circles around them as he's not interested in strolling. He's interested in power walking.  For the record, he's also started waving whenever someone comes or goes in the last two days.  Clearly, his diligent cerebral connecting is paying off. It's very inspiring to watch him hit the ground running.  He carries such enthusiasm in his body and spirit, I am excited to embody more of this myself as we move into 2014.  Thank you Espen, for all your joy and magic; we're having so much fun watching you grow!

Espen Insomniac

My baby is apparently going through what they call a "sleep regression".  I only quote this because I was forced to run to the interwebs for some kind of explanation after the second night of Espen waking after 4 hours of sleep and screaming inconsolably for 3 hours. That was over a week ago.  Repeat performances have continued, yea, increased, in intensity and frequency every day since then.

Naps are a thing of the past.  It is breath-taking how quickly a tiny human can go from having two regular 1-2 hour naps every day to NADA...or at the very best, 30 minutes whilst strapped in the Ergo Baby after being awake for 6 hours straight. (Normal length of time between waking and first nap was MAX 3 hours heretofore)

Whereas before this descenrt into waking purgatory commenced, my baby was remarkably coordinated, accurate, and sunny, he has transformed into a stumbling, erratic, emotional tornado. He has retained some of his earlier developmental quirks, such as crawling with his wooden ball in one hand, which produces the peg-leg-crawler phenomenon. Think bi-polar pirate.  He yaarrrghs, gnashes his two teeth, howls, and flails around yowling baby profanity to anyone who is within earshot.  He's your best friend one minute and your mortal enemy the next.

Internet wisdom informs me that this is due to his brain going at warp 9 in a mad attempt to connect dendrites flapping about in his baby brain.  I firmly expect to wake up one of these mornings to Espen standing by my side asking me for breakfast in Danish.  Of course, this could take anywhere from 2 to 6 weeks to be completed, but it'll be worth it.

Only thing is, it's pretty sad to see tired babies lurching about drunkenly, unable to just sleep despite all efforts and attempts to induce some shut-eye.  Espen gets this sort of crazed, red-rimmed glaze in his eyes that seems to say, "Sleepy....must...close....OHMYGOODNESSLOOKATTHATMIRROR!!!....sooo tired.....AAAAAA!!!MAKINGSOUNDSLIKEMOM!!!" It's fairly tragic.

Granted, there are some small upsides to this desert of sleeplessness.  One is that he now sits still long enough to read him books.  Another is that he now tolerates cuddles.  Still further, is the fact that he has become deeply needful of being in Tobias' and my presence at all times. By that I mean, he wants to be held NOW MOM. MORE.  Sweet baby.

I haven't been this tired in a real long time. It's like a second go at having a newborn.

Having a baby, this baby, is like being addicted to Bikram Yoga. For those of you who don't know what this is, it's doing yoga in 110 degrees for 90 minutes.  At any point in time, you inevitably ask yourself, "WHY am I doing this at 6am?!"  And then you look down and realize you're touching parts of your feet you could never EVER reach in a normally heated world.  You sweat like a pig, get way more flexible than you'd normally be, and come back for more the next day, even though you feel like you've just had all the electrolytes sucked out of your body by salt vampires.  You do it because it makes you feel high in a natural, self-induced kind of way.

Ahhhh, conscious insomnia and exhaustion. Is there anything better?

Even so, for Espen's sake, I hope he finds his way to verbal expression, walking, or whatever Major Development he's working on, real soon.  Everyone knows that being sleep deprived is just as influential as being intoxicated.  I am just glad he's so close to the ground and relatively spongy.  In the meantime, it's Ergo babies and grandparents to the rescue for those moments when Tobias and I have used all the tricks in our bag and the Pirate Child is still knocking back the rum and yelling out drinking songs at the top of his lungs at 3 am.

Twas the night before the night before Christmas and in a new house...

At 10 pm all was silent, except for Espen Mouse. He, for the nebenefit of all beings everywhere, was howling up a storm.  This was no passing squall. No. This was Hurricane Wesp.  For the next three hours he wept, he moaned, he screamed, he screeched.  The Bear would not be pacified by rocking nor milk.  He was not to be distracted by calm pacing or quiet songs. Only gale force emotional winds would do.  When he finally collapsed against Tobias around 1am, it was due to sheer exhaustion instead of a peaceful surrender to sleep.

How did all this transpire? Well.  The holidays bring out the best and worst in all of us.  

This year, we decided to switch up the old standard of Christmas at the Farm and head to The Dalles to spend Yule with Jackie and Sean and Mom and Dad.  Sunshine and rivers instead of rain and forests seemed like a move in the enlightened direction.

Wesp thought so too, until it was time for bed.  This baby loves new things.  He loves new people.  He will stay up all night so he doesn't miss anything.  We learned this on a whole new level last night.  

Now he knows all the folks here, so it wasn't the quality of exposure to new people that sent him into mental meltdown, rather, I suspect, it was the quantity.  

He is used to spending the bulk of his days with me or Tobias and having limited stints of exciting interactions with the world.  His routine is very established.  

And suddenly, out of nowhere, BAMO! Aunties! Uncles! Grandparents! Dogs! Packages everywhere! Sparkly things hanging from the sky!  WHOA.  

So I get how it might be difficult to stay asleep.  Now.  I get it now, after a sleepless night reminiscent of his newborn days.  I'll admit, I may have gotten somewhat cocky about my baby's flexibility.  It's easy enough to do when you have a predictable schedule in place and then decide to change up something minor like, say, pushing nap time back a half hour. 

Ok. I may have gotten somewhat cocky about MY flexibility.  

Things that I wouldn't have thought about before became flashing beacons of warning.  Televisions for example. We don't have one. Apparently I've become hypersensitive to the noise levels on Espen's behalf and can only hear the screaming children, the raccous laughter, and the backfire of cars in Christmas classics like A Christmas Story.  Even Christmas music. No Manheim Steamroller thank you.  Perhaps some Silver Bells, but only very quietly please.  

I may have contracted some Holiday Neurosis.  But this is not about me. This is about the fact that my baby cried for three hours straight last night and I'm keen to find a reason WHY. WHY OH WHY. 

We may never know, but in the end, we all fell into a grateful sleep, which, though not nearly long enough in the grand illusion of Relaxing Holidays, was still sleep. 

Now my dearest Christmas wish can be summed up in an old yule hymn.  

Silent Night

Holy Night 

All is calm

All is bright. 

Yes please.  If not, well, at least I have an adorable baby, sleep deprived or not.

Merry Christmas- My Baby's On Fire

We are nearing the nine month mark now and Espen has generated enough energy to launch himself out of the earth's orbit and into outer space.  On the back of his red rubber pony.  This was apparently supposed to be a secret until lift off, but I happened upon him in one of the final test launches and discovered his plan.  You can see that this clearly was NOT in his master scheme.  

Needless to say, the only course of action I could take at that point, was to get him sleepy on Thanksgiving turkey and let the tryptophan do the rest.  

Regardless of my attempts to keep his feet on the ground, at least until his first birthday, The Bear already had his helmet picked out and had his eyes fixed on the heavens.  There is no stopping that boy when he sets his mind on something. Or somewhere.  The photo he sent us of the moonscape was eerily familiar and I could only wonder if this child is actually a tiny, adorable alien sent to us from a place much like earth, to help us remember how to truly live life.

He makes sounds these days... Baa, baa BAP, daaa daaa daaaaap, that could just as easily be communication with the Mother Ship as pre-verbal practice sessions. He also loves nothing more than gazing with rapture at Christmas Lights and ooooohhhing, and ohhhhhhhhhhhhhing at them as if they are communicating special messages to him as he careens around the house trying to coax the cat off her perches by shrieking at her and burbling as he approaches.  Cats, apparently, do not exist in the same form on planet .  It is a good thing our floors are tile because the speed at which he crawls could easily catch a hardwood or carpeted floor on fire.

Other clues that he may spontaneously combust and reveal his true celestial nature are:
1. He hates being changed because it requires him to be still and lie on his back for FAR to long.
2. He abhors large bodies of water, like swimming pools.  Hates. Them.
3. He screams at being put into his car seat unless he is very sleepy or distracted by something. (apparently the long ride here was too much for him to want to make a repeat voyage to the mother planet, even at warp speed)
4. He is freakishly strong and has started doing pull ups on the oven handle when he thinks we aren't looking.
5. He crawls in circles around other babies his age and tries to eat their faces. We're working on that.

Whatever star system he hails from however, we are most pleased to have him as the central part of our earth family.  Should he decide he must return to another planet at any point in time, we will, of course, join him.  In the meantime, we are taking regular naps so as to keep up with him, buckets of water and hugs in tow, for when he inevitably goes harder and faster than his chubby baby body can handle and ends up bonking his head, yet again. Merry Christmas and may all your babies stay at room temperature.

Espen's First Sleepover-Relearning to relax...

The first night away from Wesp has occurred.  It has been eight months to the day since he was born and every night since then, he has slept under our watch.

Last night, November 30, 2013, was Tobias' and my first anniversary, and we decided to go big.  There was milk in the fridge, grandparents and aunts and uncles ready to keep the night watch, and a city waiting for us to paint it red in celebration of surviving the honeymoon period with our respect and love for each other intact.

What if, we thought, we stayed out past midnight and SLEPT IN UNTIL WE WOKE UP as our grand broohaha?!  Alright.  Now keep in mind, grandma and grandpa's house is about fifty paces away from our house, and we had decided that we had best return to our cozy bed instead of staying in a posh downtown hotel.  It's pretty far away to be from The Bear and our wanderlust is still on the rebound.

We informed Espen of the plan and he responded with his usual enthusiasm.  Kicking legs and waving arms with glee on his way to the bathtub, he LOVES grandma and grandpa's house.  Tobias and I were pleased for him.  I've read all these articles about how babies are supposed to go through a regression around this time; where they only want mom or dad and get very shy, but this memo seems not to have found The Bear's desk.  He howls and clicks in delight when he meets new people and rarely looks anxiously for us in a crowd.  Talk about well-adjusted.

People kept making comments like, "See how long it takes before you're checking in on him and talking about him...".  But here's the thing.  We wouldn't be going out for the night if we didn't feel absolutely confident and certain that he would be well taken care of and in the best of hands outside of our own.

This is one thing that I feel we are good at; really feeling solid about our choices regarding the health and well-being of our son.  This is turn, allows US to truly relax and focus on ourselves when we take the time to be Adults Doing Grown Up and Important Things For Themselves.

The evening was a huge success for us and we slept in until 10.30 the next morning. Of course, the first thing we both said was, "Great! Let's go see The Bear!"...who just happened to be napping...and is still napping 2.5 hours later.  It's almost as if he's saying, "Hey mom and dad, everyone wins when we take care of ourselves and remember to have fun!"

Thanks babyface.  Can't wait to see you when you wake up.