Like Father Like Son

Drew as a baby:

Chunky Monkey

Collin

I'm just sayin'.

Maybe they're related.

Like father, like son.

Once Bitten Twice Shy...

Bitten.
Vampire Style.
They said it would happen, and silly me, I thought maybe I had missed the window of opportunity. Collin has two teeth (read razors) now, and so far, he's been pretty laid back about them when nursing. I wasn't even worried about him biting me, because this little boy is usually all business. Milk, milk, more milk, like its going out of style. So, today, when he was goofing around I just figured he was distracted. But boy, oh boy, was I wrong. A moment of disregard and BAM, he bites me. HARD. Holy SHIT. Intense pain. And, of course, what is my reaction- even though I know, I've learned time and time again what NOT to do, but in the moment of surprise, I did it. I pulled back! and then, 1 second later, when I realized what happened I started laughing. Can you believe me?!? Seriously, I laughed. Ridiculous. And, guess what our little guy did? He laughed back. Behavior management at its best. This behavior analyst just reinforced the shit out of biting.

Who am I? Where have all by ABA skills gone? Why can't I manage to consider any ounce of my own training when I am with my own child.

As it turns out, I think the lyricist who wrote Once Bitten Twice Shy really new about this whole scenario. Take for example the first verse. If you change "girl", to in our case "boy" it pretty much suits the story.

Well the times are getting hard for you little girl(boy)
I'm a hummin' and a strummin' all over God's world
You can't remember when you got your last meal
And you don't know just how a woman feels

So here's the interpretation (line for line)

I've cut you off from my milk supply, so it sucks for you,
I'm yelling and screaming because you bit me,
I'm thinking about never nursing you again,
It hurts, ridiculously!

(Ok, so not really- but you see the similarities, no?)

So even though he's so stinkin' cute, as evidenced by these new photos, he's a Vampire, seeking blood.

I swear.

Barely there....

It seems as though every time I log on to do some blogging I find myself wondering how I've missed so many "crucial" posts about Collin. The thing is though, they aren't really "crucial". I mean, sure, its nice to share things about Collin's life, but the posts are a bit superficial, right? I mean, do you, dear reader, feel as though you have any idea whats going on in our lives outside of what you see in the glimpses through Collin's photos?

So just as a warning, this post is rather personal. Its not about Collin. Its about me. I'd even wager to say its intense. If you are looking for Collin, check back next week. Consider yourself warned, dear reader.

These past months have been difficult for me personally, and in some ways for our family as a result of the stresses in our lives. The new year is here, and there are so many things I've resolved to do, but one is to actually do some meaningful blogging. I mean, this blog has turned into something of a poster-board for Collin's photos, and while that is all fine and dandy, its not exactly what I thought it would be. I want the posts to be meaningful. I want to be able to look back and get a sense of quality in the posts, rather than quantity.

So here I am, making my first attempt to reconnect with the world via blogging, in a meaningful, albeit, late, manner.

December was what I refer to as a shitstorm. No joke. Actual shitstorm. That's saying something, I suppose, since Christmas, the happiest holiday of the year, was like the eye of my hurricane. In a two week period I managed to reach bipolar-like heights. Christmas day was actually fantastic, I loved watch Collin's eyes light up at the interactions with wrapping paper. The gifts might as well have been wrapped in hundred dollar bills. His little arms and legs would stretch out and stiffen because he couldn't contain his excitement. I mean really, when was the last time you were so excited your body went rigid? Babies are fantastic like that, they remind us how the simplest things can bring pure joy. I had no idea at the time, but I sure needed that reminder time and again over the next few weeks.

But the lows were extreme too. While we were in Michigan, four days after Christmas, my grandmother passed away after a long struggle against dementia. I say against, because it really was a fight. The kind where you put on your gloves, but find yourself out of your weight-class, nearly blind-sighted. Almost like a boxing match. Continual blows until she was finally down for the count. The disease continually robbed her of her independence, charisma and enthusiasm, which made it tremendously arduous, painful, and at the same time relieving to face her death. Her suffering was over, but I found myself asking why she suffered in such a troublesome way? In retrospect, her passing has been much more difficult for me than I thought it would be. I thought I could accept her death as a peaceful passing, allowing her to make her way to Heaven, but this hasn't been my path. I do imagine her in a peaceful place, but I also find myself conflicted about why such suffering had to preempt her peace. Reconciling who she became at the time of her death, in comparison to who I knew her to be placed me smack dab in front of mortality. Hello Death. How are you? Why are you so awful?

Recently there have been some findings in the science of Alzheimer's that leave a tiny glimmer of light at the end of the tunnel, but at the same time terrorize me. This article: Spotting Dementia 20 years in advance, offers a brief test to determine if you'll(**possibly**) have dementia 20 years in advance. Its sort of like napalm to me. I don't even want to open the link. Honestly. To get the url I quickly copied the link and tried not to read any of it. Do I really want to know if I too will face such a gut-wrenching demise? No way. At least not today. Maybe someday I will, but the knowledge of knowing would likely sink me into a serious funk-- to add to the hot mess that my life is right now.

After her passing we adjusted our lives as best we knew how and kept on. But you can't shed tragedy like clothing. It seeps in. It hangs on to you. So while you keep on trying to adjust, you end up finding yourself lost all over again.

We left Michigan in the face of a tremendous snow storm, arrived in Milwaukee exhausted. Emotionally numb and physically drained. Once we made it back to St Paul more re-arranging of life began. In 24 hours though, we were faced with illness ( cold and flu-ish for both Drew and Collin), our Jeep took a dump, and just as I thought the shitstorm was subsiding (with only a small, but manageable sprinkling of shit), one week later my dad had a stroke, a Transient Ischemic Attack (TIA), which are sometimes referred to as mini strokes. I felt like this was Death once again reminding me of the reality of mortality. Really Death, must you sleep right next to my heart?

So, more adjusting, more trying to stay afloat. Four days later I had surgery to repair some issues that I've had since having the baby. Surgery is exhausting. I'm glad I'm repaired, but I think the culmination of events finally hit me in head-on collision fashion. If only humans had personal air-bags to protect us.

Along the way I've been forced to reflect on my life-- on who I am within my family, on who I see myself to be, where my aspirations lie, regarding what I'm happy with, and what I hope to change.

Oddly enough, before all of this happened, say November, I really was in a place with limited faith. We hadn't really been going to church at all, and I really wasn't missing it. I felt guilty about challenging faith, about the idea of God, almost as though he was going to come down and say "you don't believe?!? That's it. There's no coming back. See you later."
I spend a lot of time steeped in Science and was troubled time and time again with the merging of faith based beliefs about creation and afterlife and what science might suggest. I like data. I like hard evidence. I wasn't sold on the God or afterlife thing.

But (and this is a BIG But), the problem was, I wanted to. I willed myself to have a better belief system. I tried to convince myself that I should head back to my spiritual roots. But doubt kept sneaking in. Again and again. (Looking back I honestly feel like the rest of this story has a little bit of divine intervention.). So I did what I thought might open the door for me. I prayed. I prayed for help in finding a path back to faith. Lots of praying. And then somehow, I came to this sense of calm about my doubts. I started to believe that it was okay to doubt my faith if I was active in reconciling those doubts. My first time back to church in awhile was Christmas Eve. I felt like the homily was directed right to me. The homily spoke of having beliefs in the influence of Christianity and supporting (my) faith through following the Bible's teachings. From there we went to mass every weekend and every weekend I've found a piece of the homily that speaks directly to me. Indirectly, I think my grandmother's death has helped me find my faith. These interactions give me a lot of hope for my faith as I try to navigate this new phase of my life. I admit I still have lots of questions. I still have lots of doubts, but I'm making progress, which is all I suppose I can ask for right now. One of my resolutions was to read the Bible, because, gasp, I never have. I've never read it cover to cover. I just finished Genesis last night, and let me tell you, right now, the story seems in all meanings of the word unbelievable. But I'm trying, and I hope God appreciates my efforts.

Through all of this, I've also learned a few things about myself. I've noticed that the lens my family sees me through, (which is accurate from their perspective) is unfortunate. They've learned to view me as a myriad of things (including lots of good things), but surprisingly(to me), they see me as fierce, almost harsh, resistant to listen and quick to react. This breaks my heart a little bit, because I feel like they've been left with the defense I built in high-school and don't have a sense of what my personality entails now. I wish they could see that I spend more time listening than reacting. I wish they could see how much my fierceness is about protecting them, I wish they could see how much I worry about their lives, about their health. I'll be spending more time being nicer, approaching topics more gently and trying to show them who I am now is not who I might have been at 18. I hear you. I hear every word of advice you offer. I listen. I may not acknowledge it very well, but I do, I promise.

I've learned a lot about Drew, about how he handles tragedy, how he faces my personal pain. Its been a learning experience for me, with many struggles, as when you are in tremendous pain, its difficult to explain how you particularly need to be loved in those times.

I've thought lots about the future and those thoughts have turned into more resolutions, but I hope that instead of being the kind that are placed and forgotten, that they become pillars of my life.

So, as it turns out, I'm going to be fine. I'm blessed in many ways, and all of the tragedies I've faced have made me a better person. I'm thankful for that.

I've resolved to spend more time with my family who live in Michigan. Because our time on this earth is limited and I truly want them to see me as a better person than they do now.
I've resolved to work, diligently, on my faith.
I've resolved to appreciate my husband more.
and finally, I've resolved to love larger. Because our love for others mirrors the condition of our own heart (John 2:9-11).

So in some ways I feel like I'm barely here, again readjusting. But that seems to be the theme for my life as of late, so I suppose I've got to take the bitter with the sweet and keep on.

Christmas!

Collin's first Christmas was all love, kisses, spoiling, family and fun. Here's the event in photos.

Collin LOVED opening all of his toys, here he is with Grandma and his car carrier truck. He absolutely loves this toy.
Collin just loves books. Here he is reading "On the day you were born" with my mom. I just love how happy he is in this photo.
Paper! The paper was nearly as good as the gifts. Collin tried desparately hard to eat as much of it as he could, but I foiled his plan time and again.
Collin was passed around like a hot potato too. Here he is with his Cha Cha, Anna.
More exciting toys. This lion is super fun, and helps with walking once he starts taking steps.
Collin (and Drew) also got a pack for hiking, since we are heading to the Grand Canyon in March.
Here Collin is with his papa. He just loves my dad, and they played and played and played.
More hot potato. Collin with my God Father, Uncle Pete on Christmas evening.

Baby's first Christmas!

Collin opening more presents with his Auntie Andrea.

This Christmas was maybe my favorite I've ever had just because I was able to suck up all the love spewing from my family as we celebrate Christmas morning. My family hasn't had a baby in the mix since my sister, who is now 21, so they were enjoying every minute of his happiness, and truth be told, we would need it in the next few weeks.

Christmas is my favorite holiday, not because of the gifts, but because of how much my family revels in the holiday. Christmas morning is always such a big, exciting event, that if I could hold on to just one minute of time, I would pick the moments before everyone opens gifts and we are all gathered together at the height of anticipation, wrapped with love and happiness. That is the moment I reflect on when I think of Christmas, and I hope as Collin ages, he also revels in that moment recognizing the heavy blanket of love surrounding him, that at that moment, is nearly tangible.

7 months

Its actually 7 1/2 months now, but hey, who's counting? On December 21st Collin turned 7 month, and here it is January 8th.
Its amazing to watch him grow, and now, at 7 months the milestones and differences in how he is becoming a little person. Sometimes I get glimpses of him as a little boy, rather than a baby, and its exciting, and sad all at the same time.
In our interactions with him it feels like now is the time that things are starting to sink in and he's starting to remember. Small changes, like responding to his name, looking for us during peek-a-boo and observing us, intensely, has helped to build what we see has his budding personality and character. In telling the world who he is, 7 months has offered these glimpses into his little brain and heart. Collin is incredibly easy-going and content. He rarely cries and enjoys just being with people. He sucks in his environment like a sponge, feeling every face he can get his hands on, touching every surface and placing every manageable item in his mouth.
Collin loves Samson, and every chance he gets he pets him, grabs his fur or tugs on his tail and ears. More than anyone else Samson is particularly funny to him, causing Collin to crack-up wildly when Samson runs up and down the stairs. He generally smiles all day long, peppered with instances of pure joy expressed in the sweetest little laugh. I honestly can't get enough of the sound of it.
He's curious, and ambivalent, all at the same time. His bright eyes explore strangers, while he clings to us. I love to see, in action, all of the research on a "secure base from which to explore" come to fruition from my own hip.Collin sits up on his own, rolls around (from belly to back, rarely the other way) and has no real interest in crawling, as he won't stay on his belly long enough to figure it out. Instead he rolls over and squirms a bit to move. He loves food. Nearly all food, except from a little mixed veggie dinner we had to use while we were traveling.He's growing like a weed, and making new discoveries every day, which are such a blessing for us to watch. Just the other day he figured out how to splash in the tub, which was fantastic to watch. He was so excited to realize he could have such fun in the bath.
He has one little tooth now, which is actually more like a razor blade then a tooth, and he uses it to chomp on my fingers (well, anyone's fingers) and toys all day long. He hasn't bitten me while nursing (yet) and I pray it stays that way!

So here we are, at 7 months of life with a bouncing, healthy, happy baby boy. He's got his dad's curls, my chin and little pinky finger and a personality of all his own. He looks a bit like both of us, and seems to have taken the best of both of us and presented it in his own tiny little package. Everyday that goes by we love him more.

At 7 months our lives are nearly settled into a new, comfortable routine as a family. We don't get as much sleep, and we focus on different things than we used to, but we wouldn't have it any other way. I love that Collin gets to spend his afternoons with his dad, building a strong bond between them. I love seeing Collin's little face light up when he sees Drew, so happy to have his daddy home. I however struggle with my work schedule, as I usually don't get home until the early evening, when I only have an hour or 2 at most with him before he goes to bed. I realize his sleep is important, but I am in a constant state of fear that I am missing something important. I live for Fridays, the day I work from home and get to be near him all day long.

I'm anxious to see his personality continue to blossom, and now, find myself anticipating his siblings, who before long, we'll be planning for. As my focus in life shifts to family, I find myself more and more grateful for those in our lives who we love dearly, our parents and siblings, or extended family and closest friends. If Collin's taught us anything, its that there is nothing more important that love, and nothing thatcan leads us to it as well as family.

Yes there really is a Kalamazoo.

So, I've returned to the electronic world, to once again try to catch up on posts. This will be the first of at least four, maybe more.

Its not very often I get to celebrate my Kalamazoo roots! I used to have a shirt that said "Yes there really is a kalamazoo" that looked a lot like this button. I spent about 5 years in Kzoo, and loved every minute of it. While I was there I made some wonderful friends in the Ross girls, who I still miss terribly. It turns out that they are my Kalamazoo Gals (which is also a song, I've got a gal in Kalamazoo by Glenn Miller, click on the link if you want to see the lyrics) So, to catch up, at least for an afternoon, we stopped at Melanie and Brent's house to see Juniper who is about 3 months older than Collin and revisit Kalamazoo.
Melanie is uber tall, so Juniper is already looking like a toddler, but really she's just 9 months or so. Her latest and greatest trick is the "side tounge" featured here:
Juniper is also cruising along furniture, preparing to walk very soon, so we were able to see her in action. Once she decided to stay for awhile and sit near us we gobbled up the opportunity to get the kids together for a photo.
Then Melanie and I were able to pair up with our respective babies, making for some cute photos to watch the kids grow.
As usual, Melanie and I (and Heather briefly) spent the afternoon chatting about where life has taken us and how things in Kalamazoo have been since I've been gone. When I lived in Kzoo I worked for Calico Corners, the Ross' girls family preschool, now owned by Heather Clay(Ross) and her husband Kevin. It was so fantastic to work in an environment where I felt proud of how we improved children's education and daily lives. I really think it was during my time as a teacher at the preschool that I solidified my commitment to children in my career, and without Mel, Heather and Gretchen I wouldn't likely be where I am today, so in long-overdue fashion. Thank You.

I loved hearing all of Melanie's updates, from going back to school to thinking about babies in the future, she always so easy to talk to and so caring and compassionate about the world around her. Thanks Mel, for being such a fantastic friend. Even though we don't get to see each other often, it always feels like no time has passed when we are able to catch up and then I go on wondering how I went so long without seeing the Kalamazoo Gals.