(Very) Short Stories from the Life of Spencer

Chapter 2: The Month of March

I know most parents are convinced that their child is brilliant, talented, supremely creative, and the most beautiful ever created. I am no exception. However, Spencer has garnered quite a following of people, all who believe the same as I do and only 1 of them also happens to be his parent. All the more amazing is how he manages to keep me enamored amidst his most "challenging" days.

Every time I begin to fear that my delicate psyche will not tolerate one more increasingly loud demand or devastatingly hard bonk life begins to plateau. Spencer's health has been good this past week, which makes a world of difference in his demeanor! Who among us is any different?

Spencer has added another dance step to his repertoire, it's a hard to describe but hilarious to experience little stompy run. He has reserved it, for the most part, for celebratory stomping; but he has pulled it out a time or two in order to exaggeratedly display his displeasure. More blonde, crazy curls have made their debut this month, particularly after a nice, long (sweaty) nap--just a head full of craziness! The curls really do seem indicative of his personality right now, which makes them even more precious, but enough about his dancing prowess and beauty

As far as his unparalleled intelligence, I'll let you be the judge. I walked into the living room one day and saw his magnetic Leapfrog toy (intended to be used on the refrigerator) stuck to our fiberglass door, along with all the accompanying pieces. I automatically assumed Jonathan or my mom had figured out it would work on the door and put it their to see if that would entice Spencer to actually play with it. I mentioned it to Jonathan, and he said he thought Spencer did it. I seriously doubted that, especially because ALL the pieces were on the door.

I could imagine a scenario where Spencer randomly stuck one or two pieces up there, but I couldn't imagine him carrying them from the kitchen, one by one into the living room and placing each one, individually on the door. We're talking 8 small pieces and 1 large, music playing piece--9 things in all. Toddlers are supposed to have short attention spans, and from the way he begs me to change out his DVD's every 3 minutes, I have regarded this a truism.

In the past, I've only ever seen him knock the pieces off of the refrigerator with large sweeping arm motions and then walk away, leaving them all over the floor. His play with this toy had been solely destructive. And, even if he had decided to add a constructive twist to the day, I'd first have to be convinced that he was the one who figured out the door was magnetic. I mean, I think he's smart and all, but that's quite a stretch. So, the next time I talked to my mom I asked her when she had showed him that little trick. She says she didn't have anything to do with it. Should we call MENSA yet?

Now, in order to present you with a fair and balanced picture of Spencer during his fifteenth month, I feel compelled to include this little gem. He is convinced that the covers of his board books (both front and back) are somehow adhered to currently un-viewable pages. This inexplicable adhesion has really angered him this month. He sits there and tries desperately to peel the front cover apart (it is thicker than the other pages), and then, if I can convince him to go on and give the subsequent pages a chance, once we make it to the last page and the back cover, he gets angry all over again. He is positive that the world is conspiring to hide from him all those pages that are attached to the front and back covers of his books. Much screaming, peeling, and crying has resulted from this unfounded paranoia. Needless to say, I haven't really pushed the books this month. I may have been doing the opposite.

As was discussed in my previous post, the first part of March gave us the opportunity to play host to a hitherto unexperienced variation of the GI virus. I knew something was wrong with Spencer when he ran into my room in the morning after Jonathan got him out of bed. (That part was normal). I pulled him up on the bed, where he usually gives me a tiny snuggle and then demands I assume my role of his personal servant for the remainder of the day. Instead he wanted to play with the remote control on my bedside table. (This wasn't totally out of the ordinary). He proceeded to turn on my "mmmmm mmmmm" (movie) and watched it, completely motionless for a full 5-7 minutes. This is not normal. Funnier still, it was Gilmore Girls. I had a little guilt, since that show "is not for babies," but the whole situation was so strange I had no intention of putting it to an end. I had to see how long he'd watch it (you know, for the book I will someday write that will be filled with rock solid data and spine tingling analysis such as this).

Spencer did hit a particularly golden milestone this month--he let his Nana put him to bed at night. Yes, this was the first time. And he slept 'til morning. He has let his Gigi put him to bed a few times, but he would usually wake up a few hours later (for a mommy check?). I was disproportionately ecstatic about this occurrence. It's exhausting to feel like you are the only one who can put your child to bed at night. Now, he will let Jonathan put him to bed, but this occurs infrequently and usually involves something akin to the aforementioned GI virus. Plus, it's not much help if you are attempting a date night and the only other person your child will go to bed for is your husband (unless your date nights feature people other than your husband--but this isn't that sort of blog).

Spencer's passion for toilet bowl water has certainly blossomed this month. I am hoping to channel it into a love for playing in a plastic pool in the backyard for hours upon end this summer. But, meanwhile, I'm trying to keep all valuables up high and the bathroom doors continually closed. Last night I realized that he had put my hair brush in the toilet the day before (along with his passy, which I caught him trying to fish out) and then I'd set it on the bathroom counter to sanitize. Instead of following through with my plan the next morning, I jumped out of bed, hopped in the shower, and then used the brush to fix my hair. And this, ladies and gentlemen, is why I should never shower first thing in the morning. I'm just not all there yet. Try back around 10 am. Lesson we learn from this: clean all potty items immediately (I tossed the passy).

Well, we haven't even touched on Spencer's disposal of Jonathan's Ipod (we're guessing trash, but it could have fallen victim to the toilet as well) or his impressive 60 second record for ingesting entire mini bananas, but I feel as if I might be losing momentum. Always stop while they're still interested, right?

Lent

This year, our family involuntarily gave up health and normalcy for the first half of Lent. I knew we had gone to the bad place when my precious little 15 month old signed "more" after his first dropper full of infant Tylenol. (He gets .4 plus .8, so you have to administer it twice.) When, after the second dropper full, he signed "finished,” the thought occurred to me that this routine had become all too familiar.

In an effort to make lemonade from the multiple lemons we’ve encountered called “viruses,” I floated the idea to God that it’d be great if all these “little” sicknesses were building my immunity to the point that after a few more months at this rate I should have been exposed to most of the “best” that Central Arkansas has to offer. Holding to the idea that what doesn’t kill me will only make me stronger, I think I should be the strongest I’ve ever been very soon.

Now, I do realize that the above paragraph represents wishful, naïve thinking, and that I have not even hit the tip of the ice burg of childhood illnesses, rather we are just skimming past the small chunks of ice that lay miles and miles away from it, signaling that although you can’t yet see it, it’s looming in the distance. And for the most part, I’m okay with that. I knew it was part of the deal. I can handle most of the pestilence with grace--humidifiers, fussiness, Tylenol, fluids, and lazy days around the house in order to keep our germs to ourselves.

There is really just one pesky microbe that I do not take in stride. There is one that I dread like the plague. This is the gastrointestinal type. If there is a GI bug within 100 miles of my person, my immune system courts it, begging it to break down its measly defenses in order to come hang out at my house. And then the fun begins. I can honestly say that few things are as mentally trying to me as being nauseated. And there is nothing you can do about it. The virus will run its course. 

As I’ve gotten older, I’ve discovered that not everyone’s immune system invites these sorts of maladies. I have friends that have little to no recollection of ever throwing up. Wow. That’s all I can say.

I will spare you the details of the virus' successful attack, dismantling any and all attempts to be a functioning human being, and jump ahead to the recovery time, including lots of Clorox wipes, hot water washes for all textiles contacted, and feelings of general overwhelm-ment regarding how behind you are in every area of life. And, in my case, there is that none-too-subtle reminder that the only difference between this and being pregnant is that when you’re pregnant, you are still expected to go places and talk to people because technically you’re as healthy as they come. That and duration. Successful pregnancies last much longer than GI viruses. And you actually gain weight, and are required to eat, and the ending is more painful...but I digress.

I will now be spending the second half of Lent attempting to give up worrying about the next pregnancy and meditating on the fact that pain and sickness, though intangible, are nonetheless very real things.

Up next, fun Spencer stories.

(Very) Short Stories from the Life of Spencer

Chapter 1: The Month of February

Running (literally running) past his ring stacking toy, noticing that the top ring was only partly on and partly sticking up to one side, spinning back around towards the toy, tweaking the top ring so that it was on as it should be, and then running away towards his original destination. All of this happened in about 3 seconds--max.

Jumping off the ground with both feet while dancing to his movie. This, in between his "twirling." It's quite a site to see.

Finding a book that I asked him to find by name, immediately. First, he walked directly to the shelf where it was. This detail is pertinent because there are multiple places where we keep his books, both in his room and throughout the house, but I do keep certain ones in certain places-- because I like it that way. Then he moved the 3 or 4 books sitting on top of the one in question (they are piled on this shelf, spine facing outwards), grabbed the requested "Rhino" book, turned around, and handed it to his Aunt Natalie. I'd originally asked him to get his Rhino book for Aunt Natalie to read it to him--yeah, I break the one-step command rule for toddlers, what can I say? I'm a maverick--As his Aunt Hillary would say, "They have to learn."

When someone who shall remain nameless passed a little gas, Spencer immediately repeated the sound with his mouth. Then, a few seconds later, it happened again; and Spencer answered with his shockingly accurate impersonation. Partly funny and partly horrifying. O, the joys to come.

Spencer now finds it entertaining to pull up my shirt to expose my tummy. He then proceeds to poke on my tummy. This, in and of itself is not that big of a deal, but somehow he has figured out that it's much more fun to do this when other people are around, particularly when we are not at our own home.

While playing with all things plastic in the kitchen that I've strategically put in all the cabinets he is obsessed with opening (that cannot be locked with child-locks, or where he has already broken the child-lock or the actual cabinet door--yeah, he's broken 1.5 cabinet doors so far), he managed to break a 2" piece of plastic out of the bottom of one of my turquoise cuisinart mixing bowls. I have no idea. My hypothesis is that he placed the bowl into another bowl that was smaller, and then stepped in it. I won't bore you with how I came to this hypothesis, but it's not a real one because we will not be testing it by doing repeatable experiments.

He loves to hop onto the swinging arm of the child gates for a little ride. I guess it's time to take them down.

He pulled his plate of scrambled eggs off the kitchen counter. I hate that he can reach things like that now. I just need a few surfaces to myself. He also slams shut any drawers I open when I'm trying to function in the kitchen (drawers well over his head). Whenever I attempt to thwart this behavior, much screaming ensues.

I offered to get Spencer some yogurt, and his response (while not "yes," nor nodding "yes") was emphatically enthusiastic. So, I got a Gerber yogurt out of the refrigerator. We have 2 flavors of this yogurt right now, both are packaged in identical, opaque, white containers. There's probably some number or code on the bottom that means something to someone, but nothing is immediately obvious along the lines of differentiation. He followed me while I opened it and stuck the spoon in--still very excited. Then, I moved the spoon to his mouth. He saw that it was the peach yogurt (light orange colored) as opposed to the banana yogurt (cream colored) and simultaneously put his fingers over his mouth, grimaced, and started quickly backing away. I took a few bites (to see if it was disgusting--it wasn't--and to tempt him to eat it), and he couldn't have cared less. Eventually, I got another container of yogurt (banana), and he ate it right away. Also interesting, he has eaten the peach multiple times with no seeming abhorrence. Apparently, it just wasn't what he had in mind.

Enough sad excuses of vignettes for now. Another installment of (Very) Short Stories to come in March, barring some unforeseen plague or the advent of full-fledged cabinet and furniture climbing.

Bruises, Basketball, and (Not) Buying Dinner

Spencer banged his head twice today. Hard. Within about fifteen minutes of each other. He'd "outgrown" this for a while, but apparently he is back into self-mutiliation mode full-force. These are the sort of accidents where he screams for one or two minutes, then pauses, looks around the room at the sympathetic eyes, relives it all over again, and screams for a few more minutes. Large, red, shiny, swollen spots provide clues for exactly what part of his face must have landed on which particular hard surface to produce those marks. Much holding. Much coddling. Bless.

Jonathan survived another weekend full of Upward Basketball. The people at our church really help him out a lot, and for that I am exceedingly grateful. Unfortunately we still live in a fallen world, and this weekend someone decided to remind us all of that. Disappointing. However, just an hour or so later, we went out to dinner and someone else from church picked up our check. So sweet. Definitely redeemed the day a little bit.

Meanwhile, Spencer was at Kid's Night Out beautifully managed by Todd and his wife Jenny (the woman Spencer not-so-secretly wants to adopt as his mommy--her son has mainly negative feelings about this). When we went to pick him up, he was in the "big kid room" (with the 2's and maybe some 3's?). He was loving it. As we walked in, he was trying to take a toy airplane away from another boy.

We were informed that at dinner time he out ate every other child. The pizza must have been particularly tasty last night. The only child who even came close in terms of competitors was the sole female of the group--an adorable blonde whose parents happen to be the people who paid for our dinner that night.

Even funnier, we were planning on using a gift certificate given to us at Christmas by the little blonde's grandparents (also members of our church). That whole family, it seems, is determined to buy our dinner at that restaurant!

Spencer was loved on quite thoroughly by friends and family alike this Valentine's Day weekend, but for him this is status quo. Even though this weekend included a family birthday party; visits with both sets of grandparents; presents from said grandparents; undivided attention from aunts, uncles, great-aunts, and second cousins; and multiple offerings of chocolate cake and cupcakes (both of which were adamantly turned down---hey, it's no pizza) I'm pretty certain he couldn't tell this weekend was any different than any other one.

The sugary treat that he did embrace this weekend: 3 Musketeers Dark Chocolate Cherry Filled bite sized candy. It was a real hit. Each time he finished passing out Valentines to those around him, he got to have one. He also got to have one Friday morning when he caught me eating them after breakfast with my Diet Coke while furiously getting the Valentine's ready.

You gotta be quick.

He usually catches me eating Dove Dark Chocolate with my Diet Coke after breakfast--maybe he did know something was different this weekend. . .

Spencer's Valentine's present to his Mommy? He graciously allowed me to shower during his waking hours and only protested mildly with (very) minimal fussing while running back and forth between my shower and his movie. I will always remember this gift. (Hopefully not for its uniqueness, but that's what I'm postulating).

So Proud

I'm just so proud to have a child who SITS and plays. This is our long-awaited "1 year milestone." Regardless of whether or not he is simultaneously watching a movie or harboring bacteria and viruses that are effecting his energy level--he is sitting and playing with a toy in the way in which it was designed to be played. That just hasn't happened a lot at our house up until now. I hope this is the beginning of something beautiful.

You'd think from this picture that maybe this is also the first time he's polished off the ol' fine motor skills. Worry not. He's been taking the battery cover off of the back of the remote controls for months now. All different kinds at all different houses. So, he seems to be ok in that department. No wonder he wasn't interested in the stacking rings.

Basking in new-found pride due to his stacking abilities and looking pretty cute in his cloth diaper. Am I right? His aunt Hillary said he looks like a little "man cub" ("The Jungle Book" vernacular is still alive and well in my world).

Maybe this means he is going to start sitting in the shopping carts? I'm trying not to get my hopes up, but a girl can dream (and beg her husband to go to Kroger...)