Tuesday, February 17, 2009
Roger's journal entry: One down, 17 to go
On Saturday we held a small birthday party for Skyler. As a five year-old guest said, "he's not zero any more!" Skyler was, of course, oblivious to the significance of the event and it took a while for him to warm up to his cake, but once my mom handed him a spoon he started diving in. Guess he wanted to be dignified. Check out the pictures and a video in the gallery.
It has been a year since Skyler turned our world upside down. When one of our friends heard we were pregnant, he said "let the great sleep deprivation experiment begin". I had heard sleep would be disrupted, but I had also heard that babies start sleeping through the night at around 6 months. Besides, Margaret was breast feeding so there really wasn't much for me to do at night. I wasn't too worried.
Well you know what they say about assuming. Skyler still wakes up a couple of times a night to feed, and thankfully Margaret takes care of it without waking me up. She says since she sleeps right next to him she doesn't mind. But what I wasn't prepared for is that he wakes up EVERY DAY between 4 and 6 am. He's ready to play and explore, but I am not. Lately Margaret has been taking first shift and hands him off to me around 5:30 or 6. I've learned to go to bed earlier so I can be ready.
Parenthood is tough. The first six months were the worst. I think the thing that makes having kids rewarding is watching them having fun or excelling at something, but you don't have any of that at first. Heck he didn't even smile until six weeks. He just laid there and was never content for more than 10 or 15 minutes, so the days were spent trying to find things to do that were interesting to a kid who couldn't sit up, pick up anything, or really interact with us in any significant way. It is not easy nor is it very interesting to an adult, at least not to me. I can't tell you how many times he would start fussing and the only thing that worked was walking around outside. Didn't matter if it was at night or if I was dressed. Don't know what the neighbors thought. Often he would be fine when I was standing and holding him, but as soon as I sat down he would fuss, so back up I went.
It has also been hard keeping him busy this winter. He hates mittens and doesn't walk yet, so that means we can't go outside unless it's at least 40. Which means we've been out, like once. Margaret tried to wrap him up a couple times and take him for a walk, but his hands got so cold he was miserable.
Just between you and me, we have done the thing we never thought we'd do - take him to the McDonalds play area. We have to drive to Whitewater for a toddler area, but at least they started serving decent lattes. About the only other place we have gone is the Janesville Mall where they have giant soft toys for the kids to climb on. And when he gets sick of that we can run the stroller around. But there are no fancy coffee drinks there and nothing particularly interesting to see or do. Well, not for me anyway.
But the winter of our discontent will soon be over. With much encouragement, Skyler took his first solo steps last Thursday, one day before his birthday. Woo HOO! And the weather should slowly be getting warmer-- never mind the four inches of snow they're predicting for tonight.
Frankly, I am amazed there aren't more one-child families out there. My hypothesis is that the rose-colored glasses through which we peer into the past causes us to enhance the good memories and minimize the bad ones, such that by the time the first kid is two or three or four we tend to think how it would be fun to have another one around. I have told Margaret if I ever start speaking wistfully of having another kid to please refer me to this blog post. Or knock me upside the head with a skillet...
Is this coming across as bitter? I hope not, because I do not regret creating Skyler. I look forward to watching him grow and learn and interact with the world. Watching him giggle at my silly faces is one of the most heart-melting experiences I have ever had. But I have to say in all honesty that spending 18 years with a 6-month old baby would be pure torture. Thank goddess he gets through that stage pretty quickly.
I am crossing my fingers that the next 17 years will be better. The second six months have already proven to be better than the first, and the last few weeks have been-- dare I say it?-- enjoyable.
What do you think? What age was the hardest for you?