Gravity and Babies

It seems that Henry has given up on ever getting teeth--who needs 'em anyway? Teeth are for squares!--and is instead focusing on learn to walk, and climb, and leap. all. at. once.

Example: Henry is learning to walk, but he's at the awkward fumbling stage where his movements are shaky and short (like a baby giraffe). Wednesday he decided to give sprinting a try, and sprinted from our ottoman pillow to the couch. Three whole steps--a new record. Of course, it's all fun and games until you hit the hard side of the couch at your full baby-speed.

My little bundle of energy seriously lives for the adventure that comes from being "tossed" in the air (false throws only, people. I've put far too much into this child to carelessly break him), held upside down, and spun in circles. But even that is not enough. Henry takes matter into his own hands whenever he can by climbing up onto things, and then hurdling himself off of them.

This is so nerve wracking for me, and I can almost hear the mothers of Henry's future friends saying, "If Henry Monette jumps off a cliff, does that mean you will too?" Not to make a point, the way my mother used the cliche, but rather as a valid question caused by genuine concern.

I've talked to a number of other parents, who all report that their ten-month-olds exhibit the same behavior. This does not make me feel better. I have this paranoid worry that other parents think I am exaggerating about Henry's adventurous tendencies, and so telling me that their baby is "the same" doesn't mean much. I'm not just a biased parent. This is based on chasing my babbling son around Sunday School while he walks enthusiastically about the room by grabbing the backs of chairs, and more often than not using the backsides of other class members to pull himself up. Meanwhile, the supposedly equally crazy child is sitting quietly on his blanket playing with a board book... for an hour. This makes me wonder: which one of us is actually exaggerating?

I catch my tiny adrenaline junkie in mid-air at least once per day, but usually more like three times. It is amazing! Yesterday he learned how to climb onto the couch without getting a boost from a pillow, or box, or toy. We're already down to just his little, mighty muscles pulling him up. My biceps are getting pretty strong as well, but I'm starting to worry. Will my Love Bug ever understand the consequences of gravity?

Maybe not...but probably...eventually. It is possible that he will mellow out in a few years. It is also possible that he will be in a five point harness every time we go out until he turns ten. In any case, he has got the independence thing down, so that's something--teeth or no teeth.

*If you have, or have had an adrenaline junkie baby please comment. I promise I won't assume you're exaggerating!*

Chivalry Wouldn't Be Dead if We Stopped Killing it.

Last weekend I read an article titled "What we wish every wife knew about her husband" which had been floating around my Facebook feed. This article lists 7 things that the author believes would improve marriages if known by wives. Most of the listed items had some merit to them, but the first one has bothered me non stop since I read it:

"We're not Prince Charming - we're your husband
We don't like it when you expect us to be Prince Charming. In fact, it feels objectifying. Not all of us know how to ride a horse or fight dragons. Not all of us are as dashing or debonair as Prince Charming, either, so don't expect us to be. Some of us would rather read books, work on cars or play video games. That doesn't mean we're defective. It just means we're a unique person. Please love us for who we are."

I will acknowledge that any married woman who still looks at a prince charming figure the same way she did when she was five, is probably not looking at her own marriage in a healthy way. In fact, that woman might need psychiatric intervention. But, I don't know anyone like that in my personal life. In addition, I am fairly certain that dragon slaying is not an actual option in our day and age (unless virtual dragon slaying counts), and furthermore horseback riding, while cool, is not as impressive or useful as it once was.

The article contains another link to a previous article all about how expecting a man to be prince charming is harmful to relationships because of the unrealistic and flawed character that he is. My problem with this is that the things that make Prince Charming so great have nothing to do with his outfit, wealth, ride, or looks.

Here are three qualities that Prince Charming has that every husband should have too: 

• He is there when his princess needs him-- every time. Charming is paying enough attention to know when his princess needs help, and when she doesn't. He offers the necessary support, comfort, or protection in a situation.

• He puts his princess' needs before his own-- Okay, do I even need to explain this? This is one of the basic principles of happy marriages. Prince Charming has to go to extreme measures that threaten his safety, but modern husbands generally don't need to do that. It's a lot easier for you, so instead of whining about how you don't like slaying non-existent dragons, maybe you should just start living this principle.

• He makes a special effort to let his princess know she is special-- Prince Charming does some pretty corny things. You don't necessarily have to sing a song or dance, or say flowery words, but you should communicate something. Or pick up flowers every once in a while. Or take your wife out on a date from time to time. Or take out the garbage. Really, there are a multitude of options (none of which include dragon-slaying). In fact, modern dragon slaying looks a lot like coming home after a full day of work and helping with the kids.

See, the words I read are "Some of us would rather read books, work on cars or play video games. That doesn't mean we're defective. It just means we're a unique person. Please love us for who we are." But what I'm hearing is "I'm just a guy who likes what I like, doesn't care about what would make you feel happier, and doesn't care to improve, so just love me the way I am, because this is who I was when you fell in love with me in the first place." All the while ignoring that being a modern, improved Prince Charming is well within your reach.

On the other hand any wife who is expecting her husband to be Prince Charming, had better be a princess, who reciprocates each one of these qualities!

When you walk into my tiny apartment, it certainly doesn't look like a castle--but it is one because we make it one. At the end of the day when I'm covered in whatever messes my baby has wiped on me, and tired, and grungy I sure don't look like a princess, but I am one because of how I live and treat others, especially my prince. And believe me, my husband is Prince Charming. He might just be the most charming Prince Charming out there too. And he reads, works on our car (a bit), plays video games, and I can't recall him ever slaying a dragon. He is a unique person, and I love him the way he is, and I also love him for always trying to be a little bit better. He makes me want to be better too.

The Non Post

Dear lovely people who visit my blog, the Monette's are sick this week and I find myself too foggy and fuzzy to write a coherent post. In any case, I would only be complaining that the one age group incapable of blowing their own nose (babies), is the only age group without cold medicine. So, I will get better and write a smashing post for next week. In the mean time live the happiest thoughts you can this weekend!

Crib Prison and other Confessions of a Sometimes Mean Mom

Henry has enjoyed the co-sleeping plus program since his earliest months. The plus means that he almost never slept without being held...like ever. And while my arms are now nice and strong, I couldn't wait to improve the arrangement. Since moving to our new apartment Henry has napped exclusively in his beautiful crib, and the improvement to my quality of life from that change alone is incredible. In addition, I can now get him to start the night in his crib, but he doesn't fall asleep in it, and he doesn't stay in it all night long.

I set about to change this, but there is a catch: Henry is a patternless sleeper! Nap times are unpredictable and there seems to be no correlation between his second nap time and bed time. Wednesday I worked very hard to get Henry to nap at times that would put him in bed by 9:00p.m. I had high hopes because his schedule from the day before had matched up with this.

Based on the instructions that I should put him in his crib when he was drowsy, but not asleep I closely monitored him for drowsiness. 9:00 came and went. Then 10:00 came and went. Finally it was 11:00 and we were still not in the same neighborhood as drowsy. Correction--I was well past drowsy, but Henry was crawling around at what seemed a million miles an hour and didn't seem ready to stop anytime soon. I'm not ashamed to say that I cried from exhaustion and frustration. When he finally passed out at midnight, I set him in his crib where he slept for several hours before moving into the bed with me. Shortly after that transition, and I mean very shortly Henry awoke at an obscene hour. I expected to see a sleepy baby wanting to nurse, but instead I got a bright eyed baby with a playful smile. "No", I hissed, "go back to sleep!" He giggled. I tried everything in my arsenal, with no luck. Finally I resolved to ignore him and create a sleeping human barrier than prevented him from launching himself off the bed (one of his greatest aspirations in life). He wiggled around playing and laughing for a while, and then apparently got bored, so he started pulling my hair.

Now, I am a pretty patient person and a very patient mother. I always feel calm and in control when dealing with Henry messes. I most often rationally conclude that they occur because I have left something in his reach. I am a nice mom. In fact, I'd have to say that Henry has a pretty awesome mom, but he doesn't have a perfect one.

Mean mommy arrived at the scene as I weighed my options. I was too tired and too irritated to get up with him, but the hair pulling was not working for me. I did the only other thing I could think of--I sentenced him to crib prison. I gently placed him in his crib, and then went back to the bed and ignored him for a few minutes of rest. Then when nice mommy was able to come back I retrieved him and he went back to sleep.

The truth is I can't always be a tra la la and games and songs and stories mom. I have limits. I have thought about mean mommy a lot since becoming a mother. I occasionally am a mean mom, and I write this post so that any other mothers who also experience mean mommy moments may know that they are not the only one.

Henry has totally recovered from his brief time in the big house, but this mischievous little love of mine will certainly meet mean mommy again, and that's okay because mean mommy loves him just as much as nice mommy does--it's just tough love.