When a tent’s not just a tent
Tonight, my baby’s playroom became a toddler’s playroom. My youngest brother and his wife are giving Oscar his first play tent for Christmas. It’s a space station, complete with four tunnels. At its widest span, it measures 12 feet. Insane – oh, and did I mention that it’s 12 feet of shiny polyester? Truly hideous, but he’s going to LOVE it. I began this project with not a little trepidation, but ultimately, it wasn’t that bad. I think it took me about an hour to put the entire thing together. And I did it without using any profanity at all. Yep, I know you’re all impressed. That’s not the story here, though.
Ever notice how the most mundane tasks are sometimes the ones where you have the most profound thoughts? OK, so that didn’t really happen here tonight, but something less than profound did occur to me. I’m not so sure I’m ready for Oscar to stop being my baby. I got him only nine months ago, and he’s already a full-blown little boy. What brought it home was that I had to get rid of his gymini in order to make room for the tent. It truly bothered me.
Don’t get me wrong. I know he has to grow up, but I feel like it’s happening way too fast. I know that all moms feel the same way. I just didn’t expect to feel this way myself. Not at this point, at least. I had originally wanted to adopt a toddler instead of an infant, so shouldn’t I be happy that he’s getting to that stage now? It’s all so crazy. I’ve gone from utter frustration in assembling a Christmas present to mourning the loss of my child’s infancy in the course of two hours. What’s going to happen tomorrow when I put together my other brother’s gift?
That mom
I’m a bit ashamed to admit that I’m exhibiting signs of being “that mom” this Christmas. You know, that mom who wants things to be a bit too perfect or controlled and who, as a result, takes some of the fun out of an event. Case in point? Our Christmas tree. We don’t really have one. We have a couple of topiaries that I rigged up with lights and a group of three “alpine” trees (fake trees in differing heights) that also just have lights on them. Not an ornament to be found of any of these “trees,” if you can really call them that.
I told myself that I was ditching the ornaments this year because Oscar is just too young – he’d be all over that tree, pulling all of the glass and crystal off – it would be a safety hazard, really (or so I tell myself). I could have put one of those fence things around the tree, but I’ve avoided having one of them in the house so far, and I’d like to continue to do so. I could have just had the tree but without ornaments within his reach. I also could have gone out and bought (or made, ha!) a bunch of felt ornaments that are toddler proof, but you know I didn’t because they aren’t pretty enough. Shallow, but true.
I broke down and put some ornaments on one of those ornament trees (I swear, were they designed and marketed towards moms just like me or are there really that many people with so many ornaments they need separate structures for them?).
Jeez, can you not just feel the joy emanating from this child? The thing is, he’s so incredibly gentle with these things – perhaps because he senses he’s not supposed to get too close to them from my horribly controlling reaction. Notwithstanding his appearance in the photo, he loves them. He grunts repeatedly to get us to let him sit next to the tree to look at the icicles and snowmen. I’ve learned my lesson. Next year, we’re getting a huge, real tree that will be chock-full of ornaments that he can actually touch, even if he does knock them all down to the floor.
It finally happened
Someone finally said something about Oscar that kind of annoyed me. Don’t get me wrong, I’ve had a lot of the “is he yours,” “where’s he from” type questions. Most of the time they don’t annoy me. I tend to think people just haven’t usually been around children who are internationally adopted. No big deal. They’re curious. That’s not a bad thing.
What did bother me, though, was when a colleague looked at some pictures I have of Oscar on my desk and said, “OMG, he looks just like Anj3lina’s kid – exactly like him.” Um, no. No, he doesn’t. First, he’s at least three years younger than her child. Second, while her child is cute, my child is obviously cuter (you don’t want to argue with me on this). Third, Oscar is a member of an ethnic minority group in Northern Vietnam, a group that has some fairly unique facial features. Her son, adopted from Ho Chi Minh City (Southern Vietnam), does not appear to have similar features. In fact, the only two characteristics they share are that they are male and Vietnamese.
Let’s be clear, this child:
is not this child:
Bristle Spinners – Team Mom Review
I’m kind of sad that we have now received our final Team Mom toy of the year, but the upside is that it’s by far the best toy we’ve received so far (and let’s face it, we’ve received some great stuff this fall). We are thrilled to have been given the opportunity to test out the new Bristle Blocks Spinners from Parents® brand toys. When the package arrived, I (not so brightly) opened it immediately, forgetting that Oscar was due to go to bed within an hour. Let’s just say that bedtime was considerably delayed that night. Since then, it’s become the first toy he heads for each and every morning.
What are they? Well, Bristle Blocks Spinners are 57 fabulously colored blocks, wheels, axles and funky little characters with bristly hair. You can put them together in dozens of different ways, limited only by your imagination. You can make a few different cars, a ferris wheel (which you can use to spin the funky little guys round and around – oddly a lot of fun even for mom) and tons more. Same sort of concept as Legos, but I find the bristles are easier to work with for my toddler, and personally, I prefer the softer, rounded shapes of the Bristle Blocks. I also vastly prefer the colors – orange, lime green, purple, etc. All in all, a great addition to the nursery.
They’re aimed at kids 2-6, although like I’ve mentioned, this is a huge hit in our house and Oscar is only 16 months. Even the nanny loves these – she is absolutely sure Oscar will continue to play with these for years. Right now he’s pretty constrained in what his little hands can build, but as he grows, I’m sure his ability to make more complex objects is just going to continue to grow with him.
Bonus for moms is that these toys are non-toxic and extremely easy to clean. You can find these and other Parents® brand toys at Target. Christmas and Hanukkah are next week. If you’re still looking for a sure-fire hit for a pre-schooler this holiday season, this certainly could be it.
A trip to the E.R.
So, last night I headed home early after receiving the fantabulous news that the firm was cutting salaries (merry Christmas everyone!) for the next year. I thought I’d spend some quality time with Oscar and even put him to bed. Right. What I didn’t know was that my going home early would lead to my son needing to go to the hospital.
Apparently, my son has something going on with his tiny little elbow that makes it prone to popping out of the socket. Who knew? Well, I do now. We were down in the playroom playing and one of our dogs bumped the little guy, so I reached out to grab his arm so he would not fall down. Should’ve let him fall, it seems. The moment I grabbed him, I heard/felt a loud pop, he started screaming and did not stop for hours.
Nanny Norma thought he was just frightened and that there was no need to go to the hospital, but when he did not stop crying after about 45 minutes, I started to lose it. Seriously, crying myself, completely confused, didn’t know what to do with myself or with him. Not good. I’m known for being good in crises (it’s one of the things clients seek me out for), but evidently not when the crisis has something to do with my son. I eventually gathered myself enough to locate the nearest E.R., bundled up Oscar and put him in the car.
When we hit the door of the E.R., Oscar clammed up. No tears, no sobs, nothing. Of course, I thought this meant that he was fine (nanny was right) and I was about to be exposed as an over-anxious new mom. A few hours later I found that was not the case. Oscar has a dislocated elbow (not a slightly dislocated one like “nursemaid’s elbow”, if you know what that is, but a full-blown dislocation), which had to be re-set. This is not a fun procedure, people. By this point in the night, Oscar had fallen asleep, so the doctors woke him up and slammed his elbow back into place. Or, at least, we hope it’s back in place.
We were able to get a few hours sleep last night – interrupted every single time the poor little guy shifted his weight (in case you’re not aware, this happens every 10-15 minutes). I’m hopeful that he’s back on the mend now. He refused to eat breakfast, but we were able to get him to put a few mini marshmallows into his mouth, using the injured arm. Hopefully with some more ibuprofen and a little more time, he’ll be back on track. What was I thinking leaving work early?
Schmaltz
Do you ever catch yourself realizing that this really is your life? Like when you’re sitting on the sofa watching The Grinch with your adorable 16 month old and it occurs to you just how miserable you were only a year ago (you know, when you were sitting on the sofa alone watching The Grinch waiting for paperwork to be released so you could go and get your son)? Or when your child laughs hysterically at something or another that you can’t really understand but clearly is so hilarious that you get caught up in it too? Or when you watch your adorable child run to the Christmas tree each and every morning just to grunt at you to turn the lights on so he can watch the lights sparkle on the glittery wrapping paper on his ever-mounting pile of presents – in particular on the one that he seems to find most captivating, since he heads directly for it every morning?
Being a mom is awesome.
My parenting shame
When I’m lucky enough to make it home in time for Oscar’s dinner, I usually walk in on an almost idyllic scene. Nanny Norma standing in front of my freshly bathed little angel, gently spooning him one of her delicious concoctions (on Friday it was a spinach and pepper omelet that the monster devoured). Never does a morsel escape the spoon and end up on Oscar. Never does he end up looking like this…
First, let me say that I did not stage this photo. For those of you who have been visiting here a while, you’re sitting there thinking “duh.” The hair? Compliments of the nap I managed to get Oscar to take shortly before dinner (seemingly the one and only thing I can get the little guy to do that the nanny cannot manage; although clearly I cannot do so without major damage to the poor child’s coiffure). The food? Leftovers the nanny prepared for me knowing Oscar won’t eat anything I cook while she’s off enjoying her weekend. Notwithstanding the fact she leaves food for him, he still won’t eat it if fed by me. It appears he won’t eat it by himself either.
This is my weekly shame. Each weekend the nanny leaves and Oscar and I enjoy a fun-filled 48 hours alone together. It’s truly the highlight of my week – except for the knowledge that I cannot manage to get my child to eat (let alone get him to eat in a manner resembling a human and not some sort of animal). I’m just thankful Nanny Norma manages to stuff him so full during the week that we can make it through my culinary attempts without any damage.
Christmas card photo shoot
How can this be so difficult? Guess who’s not sending out cards this year?
Day at the Museum
I’ve recovered from my mini freakout regarding the possible tumor. I had banned myself from accessing the internet after a night spent googling brain tumors in toddlers with eye conditions that sound like Oscar’s. Not a smart move (the googling, not the ban). I think I can trust myself to stay away from the search engine, so I’m back to post pics of our trip to the museum today…
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Etta’s Hats
Where I’ve Been
