He's finally walking!

A friend of mine told me that her son started walking at 14 months, a neighbor told me her son started at 18 months, my boss told me that BOTH her sons started at 14 months.

When Ethan was born, I was determined to not let him be one of those kids! They say that on "the" average, babies learn to walk between 10-18 months. Most kids, at around their first birthday. At 10 months, Ethan started getting steadier on his feet...just standing. And proud grandparents stated, "he's gonna start walking by the time he's 11 months!" That didn't happen. Then they said "this kid is going to start walking by his first birthday!" Nope. "13 months!!!" Ehhhh no not really. "13 1/2???" Hardly. "14 for sure!!!" Try again. 

Ethan is just a few days shy of 15 months. I came home from work today and went into his bedroom where he was playing with grandma. Today was the first time he actually stood up on his own and walked over to me to say hi and gave me a hug...smiling from ear to ear. 

It doesn't matter what age they start to walk. As long there's no obvious warning signs, he'll do it when he wants to do it. 

Now he won't stop, and now my world will never ever ever be the same as before. 

He's a boy, no more a baby! 

Peanut Butter: you are my enemy

I wonder if other moms have felt this, or still feel this way:

Ethan is almost 14 months old. He's officially a toddler. So there are things that toddler are allowed to have that babies are not: one of them being peanut butter.

I gave him his first taste of peanut butter. The TINIEST amount. And yeah he loved it. Who wouldn't? I was so excited at the prospect of adding another thing to his lunch menu. Was thinking that my husband can make him a mini peanut butter sandwich for lunch tomorrow (how cute would that be?)

Within 5 minutes, he started crying. Its not unusual for a toddler to cry out. But I was just playing with him and making him giggle. He suddenly reached out to me and cried out. When I picked him up, he was making little sucking motions with his mouth. That freaked me out. I imagined his throat closing up, and I imagined running to get his epipen jr (yes he has one) and jabbing him in the thigh with it. I tried rinsing his little mouth out with water. But a child in discomfort is not going to cooperate and listen to: rinse out your mouth, you'll feel better.

He kept whimpering and rubbing his face and his mouth. And I kept trying to wipe out whatever I could inside his mouth. His lips puffed up. OOOoohh shit. OH SHIT! But I had to stay calm for him. Luckily, my husband stayed cool and collected. He held him while I gave him some Benadryl. To which, as soon as he took it, he started making gagging/gurgling sounds. And he vomited his lunch. He kept retching and crying, and I'm still freaking out that he's going to pass out because maybe his throat is closing up. He didn't show any signs of asphyxiation, but I couldn't be too sure.

That was the worse feeling in the world. And its happened before. Babies and toddlers will gag, cough, and vomit a lot. Especially since they are learning to eat solids. And they have remarkable ability to purge when the piece of food doesn't agree with them. But each time it happens, the feeling is always the same. Panic, helplessness, desperation, but still must keep calm. And because I was the one who gave him the peanut butter, I felt like it was all my fault.

Ethan is completely fine now. Kids have such great attitudes. He had an allergic reaction, puked, got hives, and after cleaning up, all is forgotten. And he was back to dancing and laughing. But I'm still crying inside. I will never stop worrying about him.

Crying isn't only for babies

Veteran moms have warned me: once you become a mom, you'll cry over the dumbest things. You thought those sad homeless puppy/kitty commercials wouldn't get to you? Heck, roadkill will get to you!

Ok, maybe its not that extreme, but for SURE, my emotions run courses they've never run before. Something clicked when I became mommy.

The other night, my husband and I were watching The Walking Dead. MAJOR SPOILER ALERT (avert your eyeballs from this page if you've not watched up to season 4)::::::::::




You know that part where Carol has to kill the older daughter because she went bezerk and stabbed her sister to turn her into a zombie? First of all, I was horrified when I saw that girl with the knife in her hand and her little sister bloodied and dead on the floor. But then, what to do with her now? She's gone off the deep end for sure! So, Carol shoots her dead! I BURSTED OUT in tears. My husband missed the scene and when he came back and asked me what happened, I couldn't even tell him because I was too busy crying my ass off. He literally laughed in my face, but understood and told me he purposely walked away because he didn't want to see the inevitable happen.

It happens to dads too. While watching the series, my husband confessed that he kept thinking about Ethan and putting himself in Rick's shoes. My husband, the hero. Now I'm crying again....tears of laughter.

Who's Got The Smartest One Year Old!

I try to live my new life as a mom as modestly as I can. To be truthful, I don't know what that means. And maybe just the fact that I said it makes me modest? NOT!

For those who are not-yet-and-are-planning-to-be-a-mom, beware:
YOU WILL INCUR THE WRATH OF ENVY AND COMPETITION! Even if you tried your bestest not to be that person, you will be forced into it. You will unwillingly compare your child with others, and your child's grandparents will willingly compare their grandchild with others. You will compare your child with other children you've met, heard about, seen on the street, on tv, on the internet. If you see or hear about a child, you will compare yourself with that one. And you will freak out. You'll wonder if your child is just as good, or better than that other one. People, its stressful! Your husband will most likely not give a damn. So you get to do all the stressing out by yourself. And you will do things to make sure your child is better than the next, but will do it in a way that doesn't look like you're stressing out so your husband won't tell you the chill out. My dear, if I can chill out, I'd gladly do it. Like I said, I try to live my mom life as modestly as I can.

One of my main stresses is how dumb or brilliant will my child be? I hear about other kids learning the whole alphabet at the age of one. What the? I didn't even know that's possible. But if it IS, my kid has much improvement to make! So, how can I subtly embed the alphabet into Ethan's subconscious? A way must be found!

Using the new blackboard/chalk look craze, I found this blackboard contact sheet from zulily, and got some fun colored chalk markers. I mounted the blackboard sheet right by Ethan's changing pad and drew up the alphabet on it so he can see it EVERY SINGLE TIME he changes his diaper. And I will recite and point out each letter every single time! But I won't look like crazy mom because its so colorful and fun! I will look like fun and creative mom! I think this is pinterest-worthy, folks! (see button below)

That sign with the wheelchair

Before June 21, I've never really paid much attention to the sign with the wheelchair in the subway stations...nor did I pay attention to the square structure with the glass walls sticking up from the sidewalks...no, not the fancy apple store in midtown...I'm talking about the elevators that lead you down to the subway stations.

In my anticipation to my June 21 trip out to Chinatown with Ethan in stroller for the very first time on subway, I googled stroller/wheelchair accessibility in the train system. I tried to picture myself carrying the stroller, bumping it up and down the stairs. I even practiced it in our apartment building stairwell. Although my husband and everyone else told me that I will get help from people, I couldn't depend on that. What if I just happened to be the ONLY person in the train station. I mean...that's never happened in my whole entire life, but I'm a what if kind of person. So I needed a plan. I used hopstop app to find wheelchair/stroller accessible ways to get from my home in Queens out to Chinatown. The app gave me some really convoluted ways to get there (one involving hiking half hour to the nearest accessible train station!). I also looked on mta’s website…which actually proved quite handy! Props to the mta! Updated, it showed me that there is an accessible subway entrance MUCH closer than what hopstop told me. So I ventured out…super nervous, but focused and determined!

It actually was like a walk in the park! I did have to go almost totally out of my way to get to those elevators in the subway stations, and some of them didn’t smell the greatest (but they do try to cover up the pee pee stink with some leftover perfume/cologne concoction). I wasn’t going to complain. I just kept my eyeballs on the baby’s hands and feet to make sure he wasn’t touching any part of that elevator! I almost made it all by myself! I was so proud! Just one more elevator up to the street on Canal St, and I’m done! I got out of the train, happily pushing the little boy down the platform, slowing down to let the rush of tourists pass by me…when I saw…THE BIG OUT OF SERVICE SIGN ON THE ELEVATOR!… WHAT THE….I almost made it!!! I actually got a little fumed inside. And I thought about the people who really needed that elevator…people in wheelchairs? People with walkers or canes? 

I stood there dumbfounded. An elderly man looked at me and offered to help but admitted that he really couldn’t do much to assist. Thank goodness there was a nice woman that offered to help, and I so happily accepted! (Hint: when someone is helping you carry the stroller UP the stairs, its best to go first with the handles so you’re going up backwards and let the good samaritan take the front end of the stroller going forwards. I wasn’t very smart. The way I had it, Ethan was at this really strange tilt, but he got up the stairs!) I wanted to give this lady a hug. :)

Baby talk

At the baby's 12 month checkup, the doctor said he should be saying some solid words like "mama" and "dada." Well we don't refer to ourselves in those terms per se. We say "mama" (emphasis on the 2nd "ma" which is different from a flat "mama" - sans emphasis on either...VERY important to distinguish because the second version actually means grandma...my husband's mom. I can't have the baby confuse us so I choose to have him call me mommy) and ba ba for dada. He doesn't say either. He babbles and repeated me when I asked him if he made a "see see" =poop. He screams a whole ton too. But no mommy or baba. 

So we're told that we should encourage him by talking to him a lot more. So no more baby talk! I try to "talk" to him without feeling like a complete asshole. Even in the privacy of my own home. It's actually kind of fun because the whole thing seems ridiculous. So I can say stuff to him like "hey Ethan! Let's go stomp around like elephants while we wiggle our butts to the hot dog song!" Yes...I can say things like that, and although I'm getting strange looks from big people, I'm making Ethan laugh. So who cares! Ahhhh the innocence of being a kid! By the way, he loves the hot dog song and he gets a crack out of me wiggling my butt at him. Not inappropriate!

1st Birthdays Don't Always Go the Way You Want, So Don't Panic

Today, on the actual day of Ethan's birthday, we had a more intimate party at home. In preparation for this day, I scoured the internet looking for vegan cake recipes (coming across some handy websites <--- see left column). I was all prepared to get some rice flour or tapioca flour thing with almond milk something or other. But managed to come across this: 

Score! I baked it last night after dinner. It wasn't too much work. Then I frosted it today after work. In my mind, Ethan was going to get all excited, smoosh his chubby fingers into the cupcake, giggle with delight at the texture, jam it into his mouth, and then do his signature happy dance (whilst saying to me "thanks mom! You're the greatest!" Ok maybe not this part). But instead panic started to set in when my husband had to stay later at work, delaying dinner, and so, delaying his cupcake birthday moment! The little guy rubbed his eyes in weariness and I'm thinking, "daaaaamnnnnit! Leave it up to his father to ruin the most important day of my...Ethan's life!!!" 

Admittedly, I was somewhat bothered and disappointed that this wasn't going to go as well as I hoped. But I had to go with it and just accept whatever it's outcome. 

After clearing the dinner dishes, both sets of grandparents, my husband and I sang happy birthday to him. The baby just sits there staring....at us...at the cupcake glowing before him....then back at us. But what are we supposed to expect? To him, we're all staring and screaming at him in unison. How would you feel if 4 people 10x bigger than you were jabbing on to your face, loud and in sync, in darkness, with this hot glowing thing sitting on front of you? 

But he's a good sport at least. He didn't cry out in terror. Then, when we blew out the candle, and pushed it toward him, he stared at it in bewilderment and refused to touch it. At least I got this shot screenshotted from my iPhone video:

But I also got this shot:

At least I can proudly say that he has standards. Would I want to eat a gluten free/egg free/dairy free/...taste free cake? Probably not. The poor baby...for next year, mommy promises to make you a tastier cake!! Happy birthday, my mighty Ethan!!!