child development

With a Book, You Can Go Anywhere and Be Anything!

/ Shannon Brescher Shea / Leave a comment

Sprout loves books. He doesn’t read yet, but loves looking at books and spending time with them.

In fact, he can occupy himself for 10 minutes or so – a long time for a 16 month old – pulling books from his shelf and flipping through them one-by-one. He’ll stop at certain pages and focus on them, like a patron in an art gallery trying to figure out the meaning of a work. When he reaches the end, he’ll often flip back to those favorite pages, just to check if he missed something. Other pages he’ll speed past; some he skips altogether. It’s very clear he has strong opinions about what he finds interesting or not, something that runs in the family.

Unfortunately, this method of “reading” doesn’t translate well to pre-bed storytime. Often, he won’t let me hold the book or turn the pages because he wants to be in control. But I can’t read the text of the story with his chaotic jumping between pages. So we end up in an odd dance, where I try to read as fast as possible or very slowly, either skipping entire pages or repeating them multiple times, depending on his whim at the moment. In a books with rhyme schemes, I often stumble over the words because the rhythm is all off. He even flips books upside down, making it completely impossible to follow! Sometimes, I lose my patience, take the book from him, and turn the pages at my pace. Of course, he loses interest and pulls a different book off the shelf instead. His attitude seems to be: “Mommy, you can read the book you want to read, I’ll read the book I want to read.” That’s not exactly the point of storytime. So I’ve learned to adjust my reading style to suit someone whose enjoyment is entirely driven by the visuals and the cadence of my voice. Even if the story doesn’t make a lot of sense, I at least tell it enthusiastically.

In addition to bedtime, of all places, books play a major role on the changing table. He’s associating reading with pooping before he can even use the toilet! But giving him a book is the one consistent thing I can do to keep him from flipping over while I change his diaper. (Making funny noises stopped working a while ago.) To add to the benefit, his expression in the charging table is hilarious. He’s super serious, as if he’s a trader in a corner office reading the Wall St. Journal instead of a toddler with a dirty diaper flipping through a board book.

Sprout’s favorite books at the moment are an odd assortment of classics and modern stories. Most of them are not ones I bought – our families (especially my mom) have been very generous in building his library. All of his favorites are board books because we still don’t trust him with hardcover picture books yet. He’s mostly stopped munching on them (he was an actual bibliovore before), but he’s still fairly rough with the pages. We have a couple of books with inside covers that are torn because he was convinced that there was one more page to turn.

The Very Busy Spider: Eric Carle is one of the most artistic children’s illustrators ever, so this book is a pleasure to read, even for the fifth time in one night. While this one isn’t as famous as The Very Hungry Caterpillar, it’s actually more visually stunning, with each of the animals having it’s own unique combination of color and pattern. The actual texture of the spider’s web, which Sprout will show me by taking my hand and rubbing it on the page, makes visceral something we can’t even touch in real life without destroying. The repetitive structure – an animal asks if the spider wants to do something, she doesn’t respond because she’s too busy – means they you can skip pages without losing meaning, which is important with our aforementioned reading style. And it shows that spiders are beautiful, not scary! He loves The Very Lonely Firefly as well.

Let’s Sign, Baby: This one is kind of ironic because Sprout doesn’t know and probably won’t learn baby sign. Part of it is because Chris and I never really got around to learning it – teaching yourself another language is challenging enough, much less while you have a baby. Part of it is because even when we do remember to sign, Sprout isn’t looking at us, which rather defeats the point. This book has good explanations of the different signs, but I can’t tear his eyes away from the page to demonstrate them. I think he just likes the cartoons of the kids and babies.

Harry the Dirty Dog: This is one that I probably would never have bought myself, but it was my father-in-law’s favorite story when he was little, so Chris’s family bought it. The illustrations are adorable, even if the family is so 1950s suburban stereotypical. However, I don’t know how to feel about a book that says if you get too dirty, your family won’t recognize you. As Sprout gets older, we’ll stick with emphazing how good Harry is at problem solving.

The Big Red Barn: A far less well-known book by the same author as Goodnight Moon. This book about farm animals is cute, but the rhythm and rhyming structure grates on my nerves, even when it’s read correctly. It obviously has a structure, but whenever I read it, it just sounds “off.” Plus, it has the multiple ending problem a la Lord of the Rings – it should end three pages before it does. Needless to say, it’s no Goodnight Moon.

Bedtime for Chickies: This is an absurdly adorable book. It’s about three chicks that find all sorts of reasons not to go to bed, exasperating their pig, cow and sheep caretakers. The ending of the chicks only falling asleep once they are in their caretakers’ embrace hits a little too close to home, but the illustrations and the chickies’ dialogue is overwhelmingly cute.

Baby Faces: This book, which is just a series of photos of babies with captions describing their state of being (happy / sad, clean / dirty, etc) was a favorite when he was really little and has come back around again. When he was tiny, I think he just liked looking at the photos of other babies. Now, I think he’s realizing that the different expressions relate to different emotional states and finds those distinctions interesting.

What are or were your kids’ favorite board or baby books?

Food is our common ground – James Beard.

/ Shannon Brescher Shea / 1 Comment

As a parent, I’m very aware of the messages my behavior sends to Sprout, intentionally or not. With Sprout getting more observant every day, I’ve become particularly conscientious about our eating habits, as I know how and what we eat will shape his eating habits for life.

This has become particularly important now that he thinks everything the “big people” eat is fair game. As I understand it must feel unfair to see your family members eating something you can’t, I try not to eat anything in front of him he can’t have. (Except my tea – they’ll have to take that from my cold, dead hands.) This became exceptionally obvious at my company’s annual picnic. One second, there was a chocolate-chip cookie on my plate, the next it was in my son’s mouth with a big bite out of it. Not what I had planned.

This awareness came to a head last week, with a spiritual element added to the practical one. Leading up to Food Day, my church is focusing on eating as a spiritual practice. As with most spiritual practices, the first step is increasing awareness of your current habits. As such, my pastor challenged everyone to keep a food journal – a list of the food consumed as well as the circumstances in which we ate it. Personally, I also wrote down whether the food was processed, local and/or organic.

While I normally try to be aware of my eating, it was amazing how many decisions the food journal influenced. I chose to have an apple instead of crackers. I didn’t drink the fake cappachino that’s 90% sugar water and 10% preservatives. I had a little thrill when I wrote down “locally made whole wheat toast with locally made jam,” even though it wasn’t exactly healthy. It didn’t stop me from having three desserts at the picnic (including the stolen cookie), but I did have a greater appreciation for sharing that lunch with my husband, son and co-workers.

While I’m no longer writing everything down, I’m still thinking the best way to model good eating habits for Sprout. I think the best way to do this is keep him as involved as possible in growing, choosing, and cooking his food.

Before this weekend, I hadn’t been able to get him involved in gardening, as he was always too destructive. But with the fall season winding down, I’ve started pulling out my plants in preparation for winter. As I’m usually telling him not to hurt plants, he looked very confused. He tried to help at first, but just picked off a few spare leaves. He also didn’t know what to do when the plants were too thick for him to walk through without tripping. Once I had cleared a space for him, he was much more content, sitting there and whacking at the soil with a spade. In the end, he was a dirty, happy kid, with soil everywhere from his hair to the soles of his sneakers.

While he can’t identify different vegetables yet, we’ve been bringing him to the Farmers’ Market since he was a newborn. The vendors are so used to seeing us that the one girl recognizes Sprout and asks about him. As he grows older, we’ll teach him about the different fruits and vegetables and why they’re available some times of the year and not others. Unfortunately, we’ll never be able to buy his beloved bananas (the only food he has a word for yet) there.

Obviously, we’re going to teach him how to cook. Sprout already shows great interest when anyone cooks, whining if you don’t keep him informed of what you’re doing. Chris will often pick him up to show him what’s in the pan and explain the steps he’s taking.

While it’ll be quite a while before he can touch the knives, we did get him involved in food preparation for the first time a few weeks ago. We made these date-almond-chocolate energy bites, but swapped out the wheat germ for shredded coconut. After we blended most of the ingredients in the food processor and formed balls, we let him roll the balls in the coconut. Or more accurately, throw coconut on/at/over them. He seemed to have a good time and the bites turned out to be surprisingly tasty.

Eating good food that has been thoughtfully, sustainably grown and prepared with people I love is one of my great joys in life. I hope it’s one of his too.

The Many Non-Toys My Kid Loves to Play With

/ Shannon Brescher Shea / 1 Comment

Sprout has plenty of toys. Now, he doesn’t have as many as some kids, but there are plenty to hold his attention. But despite that fact, some of the things he likes to play with the most aren’t toys at all. Some of them seem pretty boring to me, but then I’m not a toddler.

Blankets and napkins: Sprout has embraced the great joys of peek-a-boo. Before, he just enjoyed watching us disappear. Now, he finds it hysterical to hide himself behind a blanket or napkin. He’s very aware there’s a performative aspect that he’s in control of. The photos from Disney that he’s smiling the most in are the ones where he’s peeking out from a napkin. Cloth napkins are also very good for random waving around at restaurants.

The remote controls: Of course. Unlike a lot of parents, we let him play with the remotes if we forgetfully leave them on the couch. We used to believe this was harmless, until he bought Sherman and Mr. Peabody On Demand. It couldn’t even be a good movie! Now that Chris set parental standards, it’s probably harmless. As we rarely let him watch TV, he’s more interested in pushing buttons for the sake of pushing buttons, as well as the fact that one of the remotes actually lights up.

The grass and dirt: In the spring and summer, I often brought Sprout to hang out in our yard while Chris makes dinner. Even when I brought a ball to play with, Sprout usually just ignored it. Instead, he’d sit in the grass and pull it up, or pick at clumps of dirt. This happened more when he was younger, as now our front porch has more allure due to the next item on the list…

All stairs, everywhere: We are still obsessed with stairs.

Doors and gates: He loves opening and closing doors and gates. He’s not tall enough to reach doorknobs, but he’ll swing an open door back and forth over and over again. He also adores the giant metal gate at the tennis court near our playground. What’s pretty amazing is how careful he’s always been. Even when it looks like he’s about to close his hand in the door, he draws his fingers or the door back just enough to avoid it. Occasionally, he’ll use his palm to close it all of the way, shutting us out of his room. We then knock on his door and say, “Can we come in?” Even though he has zero sense of privacy yet, it’s still good to model those respectful habits. Plus, he finds it hysterical when we ask. We have a fifteen-month-old going on fifteen years old.

The doorstop: Before having a child, I never thought about doorstops. They’re so low to the ground that adults hardly see them. But they’re at just the right height if you’re a baby. Sprout has spent an absurd amount of time batting at his doorstop, listening and watching it sproing back into place. He found it even more entertaining when he was crawling, as he’s getting a little tall now to reach it comfortably. But every now and then, he’ll stop, sit down next to it and start to flick at it, remembering, “Oh yeah, this is awesome!”

Chris and I: His mommy and daddy are finally starting to become his playmates, as in someone who actually plays with you. But a long time, he treated us much more like things to be played with – like really big toys. He scales us like we’re climbing structures, twirls my hair, and previously nibbled on our fingers (although we discouraged that). He still gives us raspberries on our stomachs that make the most realistic and hysterical farting noises. But better to be a whoopee cushion than a chew toy.

A Chair of One’s Own

/ Shannon Brescher Shea / 1 Comment

Sometimes, the things that children are proudest of don’t show up on any milestone chart.

This past Christmas, my in-laws gave Sprout a little plastic, Toy Story-themed chair. He was too small to use it at the time, so we just put it in the corner of his room.

A few weeks ago, Chris texted me with the omnious words: “He’s plotting.” Sprout realized he could potentially climb up onto the chair, although he didn’t actually have the coordination to do so. More importantly, he also realized he could drag the chair from room to room, giving him a convenient but risky stepstool. As we would like to keep him from scaling the furniture for as long as possible, the chair was banished to our room.

Until I left our bedroom door open the other day. Noticing he was suspiciously quiet, we peeked in and saw him perched up on his new throne, grinning. He was so pleased with himself – and not falling off the chair – that we couldn’t help but bring it out.

Since then, he’s been obsessed with sitting on the chair, in only the way a toddler can be. He’ll climb on and off it over and over again, either crossing his legs or swinging his feet. Once he’s on it, he’ll smile and clap his hands, congratulating himself on his achievement.

In fact, he was so distracted by the chair the other night that he refused to drink any milk before bedtime. With the chair in his line of sight, he only wanted to be sitting on it. He was willing to drink his milk while sitting on it, but doesn’t have the balance to both stay upright and lift the sippy cup to his mouth. As some kind of accident was bound to happen, I put the kibosh on that idea.

His sitting preoccupation has even extended past his chair. This weekend, he loved climbing up on a short stone stoop in our downtown area and was frustrated at the one that was too tall for him.

While walking is obviously a much bigger milestone, this is just more proof of Sprout’s burgeoning independence. I think he likes the chair so much because choosing to sit on a piece of furniture without any help at all is something Mommy and Daddy do. That aspect especially revealed itself this weekend, when my parents, Chris, and I were sitting around on the couch and living room chairs. Sprout dragged his chair from across the room and planted it in our little semi-circle, ready to join in the conversation.

There’s also an element of ownership. While we think of the high chair and crib as “his,” they’re really tools for us, furniture that makes our lives easier. In contrast, his chair is definitively his – he can use it on his own without help, and no else can. He isn’t in the “Mine, mine, mine” phase yet, but I’m starting to see the start of it.

Who knew that a simple chair could mean so much?

Walt Disney World Week: What I Learned About My Family

/ Shannon Brescher Shea / 6 Comments

Last week, we returned from Sprout’s first trip to Walt Disney World. Normally, I wouldn’t bring a kid that young, but my in-laws are hard-core into it and volunteered to pay for the entire trip. So off we went to see the Mouse.

Now, I’ve been to Disney World as an adult, but nothing could prepare me for visiting with a small child. It becomes an entirely different experience, rife with its own set of joys and frustrations.

Here are a few of the things I learned about my own family along the way:

1) How little sleep my son can survive on.

One of my main areas of concern was getting Sprout back to the hotel for a daily nap and his normal bedtime. Due to extenuating circumstances, that plan went out the window almost immediately. While we managed some lengthy stroller naps – one was a full two hours – most days had very short naps and a bedtime at least an hour past the norm. But despite this shift, Sprout was mostly good-tempered. As long as he had something to look at (which there almost always was, being Disney World), and had enough time to walk around, he was pretty chipper.

2) The difference between listening to someone complain about the challenges of bedtime and experiencing them firsthand.

Sprout is not a good sleeper. He hates going to sleep and bedtime can end up being 45 minutes of him yelling at me in Baby. I’ve explained this to my in-laws, but I don’t think it set in until the night they put him to bed. While they had put him to bed at our house before, vacation radically upped the excitement level. From patting on the back to classical music, they tried every trick they knew of, only to be foiled by a loud whine the second they closed the door. They finally got him to sleep after nearly an hour. While I felt bad for them, it was a relief to see that it’s not just us he’s pain about when it comes to bedtime.

3) Sometimes folks need more comprehensive instructions than you would expect.

My father-in-law volunteered to put Sprout to bed one night so the rest of the adults could go out to dinner at a restaurant he didn’t like. As Chris and his sister came out pretty great, I figured he had the basic baby wrangling skills covered. Unfortunately, it had been far too long since he had changed a diaper. As such, he didn’t recall Cardinal Rule #1 of diaper changing – have everything ready before taking the diaper off. Even though he strongly suspected there were poops present, he failed to get the wipes out beforehand, leaving him without the needed resources. Instead, he said something hand wavy about “rinsing him off in the tub” and left it at that. Ewwww.

4) Don’t read the news while you’re on vacation.

While we were relaxing in the room, I happened to read a post on local news blog Greater Greater Washington. Unfortunately, this particular post mentioned that there had been torrential rain at Baltimore National Airport. In fact, a number of vehicles swamped and became totalled – in the parking lot we parked in. So I spent the whole week worrying that we might not be able to start our car when we got home. As it turned out, nothing was wrong. I wouldn’t have even known there was a problem if I hadn’t read the news post.

5) How rewarding it is for your kid to enjoy something you remember fondly from your own childhood.

Being a giant nerd, EPCOT was one of my favorite parks as a kid. I really loved the Journey into Imagination ride and its mascot, the purple dragon, Figment. I had a little stuffed version of him that was worn out from hugging. So I was thrilled when Sprout enjoyed the Journey into Imagination ride, looking around at the bright colors and funny sounds. He was also really engaged by the activities afterwards, from the squares that played instrument noises when you jumped on them to the machine that changes tone when you wave your arms. And perhaps most importantly, his face totally lit up when I bought him his very own Figment.

6) Respecting your kid means sometimes giving them something they want even when you know they won’t like it.

I’ve believed in this as part of my overall philosophy of respecting my kid as a person, but never had the chance to put it into practice. So when Sprout pointed to my curry noodle soup, I hesitated over giving it to him. It was a little too spicy for me, so he certainly wouldn’t like it. And he didn’t – he spit it out and batted at his tongue with his hand. But you know what? Maybe he would have loved it!

7) How much a kid can grow up in 10 days.

I’ve believed for a long time that travel can help lead to incredible personal growth. It exposes you to new cultures, natural and crafted beauty, and challenging situations. However, I would have never guessed that it would be true for a kid as little as Sprout. But it certainly seems like our trip sparked that growth in him.

The first full day at Disney, he decided he no longer wanted to hold my hand when he walked, motivating me to buy a “toddler tether.” The rest of the trip, he wandered around with Chris or me in tow.

In addition to mobility, he also wanted to do things that mommy and daddy do. Suddenly, he decided he wanted to push his own stroller instead of ride in it. A few days later, he kept whining and pushing his plate away, so we thought he was done eating. We finally figured out he was still hungry – he just wanted to eat the whole tacos, not the cut-up ones. Now, whenever he’s complaining and I can’t figure out why, I just start to think, “Is this something ‘grown-up’ that he wants?”

But perhaps his social growth has been the greatest. Sprout has been charming folks at restaurants now for a while, but we hadn’t seen the extent of his ongoing nature until this trip. He waved and said hi to almost everyone around us in line, on the bus, and at restaurants. He even walked up to people in the airport in the middle of conversations and would start jabbering away at them as if he was a natural participant – even though he isn’t speaking many recognizable words yet!

You Know You’re a Sleep Deprived Parent When…

/ Shannon Brescher Shea / 3 Comments

My son is not what you would call a good sleeper. He’s far from the worst, thank God, but I’ve spent a fair number of hours in his room in the middle of the night. My night vision has gotten substantially better over the last year from practice. I scowl at those lucky bastards who say, “My child slept through the night at six weeks.” At 13 months old, we still consider it a good night when he wakes up once and falls back asleep within 10 minutes. So I know of which I speak when I talk about lacking sleep. In fact, every single one of these has happened to me!

You know you’re a sleep-deprived parent when:

  • You dream about not being able to sleep.
  • You sleep more soundly on the train into work than in your own bed.
  • You consider it a major accomplishment to have only a single caffeinated beverage during the day.
  • You know how to (kind of) sleep sitting up on the couch with a toddler sprawled out on you.
  • You find it hard to sleep without white noise because you’re so used to hearing it over the baby monitor.
  • You can apply oral-gel with your eyes closed – literally.
  • You have a justified fear of falling asleep on your feet and toppling over.
  • Sleeping until 8 am sounds scandalously luxurious.
  • 4 am seems like a perfectly normal time to be awake.
  • You are just So Damn Tired!

I Would Walk Five Hundred Feet

/ Shannon Brescher Shea / 3 Comments

I am all about allowing Sprout to develop at his own pace without pushing him. But on the last few weeks, that pace has picked up significantly. This week, Sprout truly started walking!

He first got on the move at around 7 months, when he started scooting backwards. While I thought it would be a short phase – surely he would get bored with going backwards – he didn’t seem to mind.

In fact, it took him almost two months before moving forwards appeared to occur to him. One day, something just clicked – Sprout got his hands and legs coordinated and was on his way. Once he started, there was hardly a learning curve. It was as if he had been practicing in private. Right around the same time, he started pulling up on everything he could get his hands on – the couch, the coffee table, the curtains, our pants, my hair (Ouch – I am not Rapunzel.).

Following the same pattern, he crawled and pulled up on things for a couple of months, showing little interest in walking until near his first birthday. He “cruised” by hanging on to furniture quite well, but didn’t try to bridge gaps he couldn’t reach across or stand on his own. He would walk from place to place if we helped him, but he didn’t seem that interested in it.

But then, about a month and a half ago, walking with our help was all he wanted to do. He’d sit on the floor and raise up his hand, indicating that he wanted a finger or two to grab onto. Once anchored, he would twist his leg out from under him, place one foot down, and then squirm a bit to get the other one in place. Soon enough, he was so solid with our help that he was walking both inside and outside, over all sorts of surfaces. Playing with any his toys paled in comparison to walking! Chris said that some days, his back started to give out from having to lean over so much.

Despite his new-found love, Sprout was totally uninterested in walking independently for several weeks. Just over two weeks ago, he walked for the first time on his own after we let go of his hand. But even then, he was very hesitant. He would only take “steps” if Chris or I were very close by with open arms.

Suddenly at church last week, he decided he had quite enough practice and it was time to strike off on his own. He was walking all over the place, now unafraid. While he still didn’t like falling, he could walk well enough on his own to actually get somewhere without tumbling every few steps.

Since then, he’s been practicing his skills every chance he gets. He still likes holding mommy or daddy’s hand, but lets go as often as not. Sometimes when he’s walking on his own, he keeps his right hand in the air, steadying himself with our virtual support. He was even chasing a little girl on the lawn at our Town Square yesterday afternoon. She looked more disappointed than he did when he fell, circling back and holding out her arms to help him get up.

While he falls very little considering how recently he started walking, it’s still a lot compared to an adult. His reaction really varies, ranging from not caring at all to wailing immediately. (We’ve already had some dramatic ones.) When he does seem distraught post-fall, describing his feelings for him (“Oh, that hurt to fall down, falling down is scary.”), a technique from The Happiest Toddler on the Block, has actually helped quite a bit. After a brief whine, he’s usually satisfied and waves his hands to request help getting up.

Although he can’t do them on his own yet, he’s obsessed with steps, both crawling and walking up them. On our way to the playground yesterday, he spent so long stepping on and off of the sidewalk curb that the kids that had been playing there left by the time we arrived. When we were in Peru, I joked that the Incas discovered the stair and said, “Yes, that’s what we will build our empire on.” I despise climbing stairs, but he would have fit right in.

Now he’s intently focused on his next skill – climbing. Before he started walking independently, he actually showed more interest in trying to climb – lifting his knees up in the air and trying to get footholds – than walking. In fact, he climbed up to the couch using my leg as a step-stool before he took his first steps.

For big steps or climbing up the rocks in our Town Square, he holds on to both my hands and lifts his foot up above his waist. If we don’t shift his weight for him, he’ll put all of his weight on our hands, making him near-perpendicular to whatever he’s climbing. He doesn’t seem to mind – he must have it in his blood from me rock-climbing while he was in-utero.

I’m both proud of and nervous about his passion for climbing. While walking is a big deal, he can’t really access any household items that he couldn’t previously. But once he starts climbing – especially if he progresses as quickly as he has with the other skills – we’re doomed.

Now, Sprout is definitively a toddler – there’s no denying it. I love walking with him now, despite the repetition, and look forward to walking all sorts of places with him in the future.

A Year of Love

/ Shannon Brescher Shea / 4 Comments

One year and one day ago, our son came into our lives after 40 weeks and 5 days of pregnancy and 10 hours of labor. We welcomed him on Father’s Day, making space in our lives for this new little person. Yesterday, we celebrated his first birthday, looking back on a year of challenges, sleep lacking nights, learning and a lot of joy.

At his six month birthday, I said that babies distort time itself. While the changes over the first six months astonished me, the changes in the last six have been even more radical. Last weekend, our friends brought over their four-month-old. She was adorable and smiling, but so different from Sprout. In fact, he seemed to have more in common with our other friend’s two-and-half year old than her, even though they’re closer in age.

In the last six months, Sprout learned to scoot, then crawl, “cruise” with the help of furniture, walk with a helping hand, and as of yesterday, stand independently for short period of time. He was just barely starting solids then; now, he’s had nearly 50 different foods. Now, he eats well with his hands (unless he drops food on purpose) and has some skill with a fork. His spatial and social skills have evolved with his physical ones. He now hides behind me, shuffling back and forth from my left to my right shoulder, and giggling when I pretend I can’t find him.

We’ve certainly had our share of challenges over the past year. In the past week alone, I’ve been absolutely baffled at how to handle getting him to sleep (yes, again!), what to do when we have to skip naps, what to do when he spits out his food, how to put his bike helmet on without a meltdown, how to get his pajamas or diaper on without a wrestling match, and why he’s being mood swingy at any particular point in the day. I frequently think – or just say to him – “I don’t know what you want!” He insists on being the center of attention when I’m getting ready for work, which is alternatively annoying and endearing. His adventurous attitude is wonderful, except when he pulls tissues out of the garbage or literally eats dirt. He regularly amazes and confounds me.

But that’s the beauty of parenthood – it’s always full of change and opportunity. Even if one day has gone badly, there’s always another. While he’s learned so much the first year, so have I! As Sprout has developed his own personality, I’ve tried to teach myself as best how to relate to this little person with a radically different perspective in the world. As he’s developed needs beyond the basics, I’ve learned how to listen to someone who doesn’t have any language skills. (As I’m not a great listener to begin with, this has been particularly hard for me.) I’ve learned to play without expectations about what that may mean, just following his lead. Chris and I have both learned to discuss, compromise and teach each other more than ever, reaffirming our shared values.

Even though only a year has passed, it’s hard to process the memories of life before Sprout. I’ll remember doing things, wonder where he was, and then recall that it happened before he was born. He’s so woven into our lives that while some people see children as restricting them, he’s made our tapestry even bigger and more colorful. True, there are certain things I can’t participate in, like office happy hours or bar skeeball leagues and I do miss them. But there’s so much I get to experience with him.

While I was terrified before he was born – even though we planned everything – I realize now that we were as ready for him as we ever could ever be. That was the perfect moment for him to enter our lives and become part of our family. And I’m so glad he did.

The Play’s the Thing

/ Shannon Brescher Shea / 2 Comments

Play is a curious thing. Before I was a parent, I would have never thought someone waving his arms randomly or shaking an object would be considered play. But after almost a year of playing with my baby, I have a much broader definition these days.

Playing “with” newborns is a bit of a stretch. Most of our non-feeding or sleeping activities with Sprout were limited to shaking things at him while he laid on his back. When you don’t have the motor control to reach for an object, the options are limited. Despite that, we tried to be creative. Even though we knew he couldn’t understand us, we made up songs and stories. We’d imagine personalities for his stuffed animals and have them talk to him. We’d read him books, even when it was obvious he wasn’t paying attention. I’d dance with him, cradling him in my arms and swaying to our collection of children’s music. In those early days, finding different activities entertained me and kept me sane, helping me feel like more than just a source of food.

With Sprout developing more strength, especially in his neck and back, we were able to play in a much more physical manner. We love playing “flying baby,” whether under our arms or above our heads. When I’m lying on the ground, he lies on my stomach, our faces nearly touching as we roll from side to side. My dancing has become much more varied, carrying him on my hip, waltzing or shimmying across the room with an occassional dip thrown in. We get the best laughs out of these activities, a high-pitched giggle that sounds a little like a cartoon character.

As Sprout’s mental capacity has developed so has his sense of humor, as rudimentary as it is. He no longer laughs just because we’re laughing; we have to work for our audience! Peek a boo became much more fun once he gained object permanence. Finger games like I Am Thumbkin started to make a lot more sense once he understood the idea of conversations. Recognizing when something differed from normal opened up a whole range of possibilities. I’ve greatly expanded my silly expressions and frequently resort to putting ridiculous things on my head. I especially like putting his monster or shark hooded towel on my head and making chomping noises right before I take him out of the tub.

Along with his physical and mental capacities, his ability to be engaged and proactive in playing grew. His first mode of play – and still a favorite one – was shaking things. If he could pick it up, it was bound to go in his mouth or the air. He also considers banging things totally awesome, as is knocking down or taking apart things, like my block towers. Once he got used to crawling forward, he started chasing objects. Now, his favorite toys are anything that he can scurry after, from a pullback train to four different large balls (squishy with tags, hollow with a rattle ball, mini beach ball and a bouncy ball).

Lately, the biggest leap has been Sprout’s ability to understand the idea of playing with other people. The first time it started to sink in was when he was just on the edge on crawling. One day, I got down on my stomach and mimicked his motions. When he hit the floor, I hit the floor; when he babbled, I babbled. After a while, he realized that what he was doing and what I was doing were related. He looked very intently at me, and then smiled. As we went on, he laughed and then inexplicably became upset. Obviously, I stopped, but do wonder what was so upsetting. More recently, he’s decided to play the classic toddler game of Dropping Things on the Floor For Mommy and Daddy to Pick Up. What’s particularly funny is that he doesn’t even look at what he’s dropping, as if we won’t see him drop it if he doesn’t see him dropping it. But Chris and I aren’t willing participants, so that game has a pretty short lifespan.

But the advance that really excited me was when Sprout really followed “rules” of a game for the first time a few weeks ago. All three of us were sitting on our living room floor and Sprout was playing with his new mini beach ball. He handed the ball to me, which is rare in and of itself. He thinks feeding us is hilarious, but doesn’t usually share his toys. Seeing an opportunity, I handed the ball to Chris, who then handed it back to Sprout. Who, much to my surprise, handed it back to me! We went around in a circle for about 15 to 20 rounds. Finally, Sprout either got bored or distracted and bounced the ball somewhere else. But I never knew I could be so impressed by such a simple game.

While all of this is fun, I can’t wait until Sprout starts playing imaginatively. I want to hear his stories and songs and puppet shows and everything inside that marvelous little head of his.

Out-Growing Mommy’s Favorite Things

/ Shannon Brescher Shea / 6 Comments

We all hold certain childhood objects fondly in our memories, even if we no longer have them. But until I became a mommy, I didn’t understand the relationship between the parent and the child’s possessions. Lately, Sprout has grown out of a number of things that are my favorites. Even if we have another child who uses them, knowing that he will never use them again makes me a little sad.

Most recently, Sprout got too big for his whale baby bathtub. I had needed to switch him into the real bathtub for weeks. By the last bath, his legs were squashed to the point where he had no choice but to bend his knees. Depending on his position, either his legs or butt were on the slanted section, throwing him off balance. While I kept saying that he couldn’t switch because the bathtub desperately needed to be cleaned (which it did), at least part of it was that I was sad to move him out of the little tub. I remembered picking it out for our registry while pregnant, charmed by the marine mammal theme. (We also got the whale faucet cover.) I remembered his first bath, when I gingerly laid him on the padded section, worried he would slip and drown. He spent the whole time frowning, punctuated with occasional crying. I remember him learning to sit up in it and discovering the joy of splashing. And by the end, I remembered him nearly crawling out of it, pulling up to his knees. So now it’s at least temporarily retired, well-loved, with its padding pulled off and its sides scratched.

Sprout has also grown out of a huge amount of clothing, much of which I was fond of. The first one that I really missed was a onsie my sister-in-law gave us a few days before he was born. It has a picture of the earth and says, “Hi. I’m new here.” The thought of that phrase in my tiny baby’s imaginary voice was so sweet and hilarious. We planned to bring him home from the hospital in it, but it was way too big. Once it fit, I dressed him in it in often because it brought some light to those difficult early days. Although he swam in it at first, he grew into it quickly and then out of it just as fast. He was no longer all that “new here” anymore. It was probably the first thing I was sad to put in storage.

More recently, we had to retire the most awesome pajamas ever. Over the winter, he regularly wore fleece footie pajamas with rocket ships. They were the epitome of everything kids’ pajamas should be – warm, fuzzy, comfortable, a little retro, and fantastical. I actually Googled “women’s fleece rocket ship pajamas” to see if I could find similar, non-footie ones for myself. Unfortunately, they do not design the same pajamas for grown women as they do baby boys.

Packing up these items did help me better understand a conversation I had with my mom a few years ago. I was sorting through a number of things in my old bedroom at my parents’ house, deciding what I wanted to keep and what to get rid of. Having decided not to keep a set of ceramic bear figurines, I told my mom she could give them away. Much to my surprise, my mom got rather upset. To me, they were just some cutesy knick-knacks that had always been on a bookshelf and didn’t reflect my personality. But she struggled with the fact that they didn’t hold any nostalgic value for me because they had so much for her. She bought me one each year for my birthday, so they symbolized all those passing years watching me grow up. For her, they evoked the memories of all of those birthdays that for me as an adult, were hazy at best. The bears had much more tangible echoes of the past for her.

It’s funny how even the simplest things – a bathtub, a pair of pajamas, a ceramic bear – can have such meaning imbued in it when it’s your child’s. I know we have so far to go, with so many clothes and toys yet to be bought, used, and retired. But those earliest things of Sprout’s will always hold a special place in my heart.