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dexter: six months

It began with a plank. Arms stiff and strong and legs extended. Next, it became a rock. On all fours, jolting back and forth like a mechanical horse that had been fed too many quarters.

After that, you shifted to army crawling. Then small forward leaps. Then the worm. Until finally…you crawled!

Your motion is somehow both hesitant and quick, causing me to rush to protect you from falling guitars, coffee table corners, and tile face plants. And now that you’ve had a taste for mobility, only perpetual motion will do. You would gladly spend your days leaping tall squishy blocks in a single bound, rolling faster than a speeding stroller wheel, and becoming more powerful than a car seat strap.

You really hate those car seat straps.

Baby of Steel? Maybe not. Yet, already you show determination and strength. No matter how far away I place your piano, you forge a path and bang out a song. I’ve watched you briefly hold yourself up on the edge of a table, aim and kick my phone out of my hand, and evade your daddy’s 14^th try of putting your pants on.

Though you’ve yet to utter a word, part of me feels we communicate in perfect accord.

You rub your right temple when you get sleepy. If something excites you, the entire neighborhood is treated to the ear-splitting call of a screech owl. When I tickle you on that perfect spot under your left arm, you laugh so hard it causes breathing to become trivial.

And when I pick you up from your babysitter’s house, your eyes light up brighter than a summer day.

I hope, Dexaroo, that you read the message of my own gaze as clearly.

Happy Half-Year.

dexter: five months

The fifth month was the month of bouncing.

Your daddy hooked up your Johnny Jump-Up in our doorway, with the expectation that you might enjoy the assisted standing. Initially you twirled a bit, drifting from side to side and investigating your new independence. And then you bent your knees.

I still laugh and shake my head that two intelligent people can be taken by surprise by a five-month old. We probably should have lined the door frame in pillows BEFORE strapping you in. The image in my head looks something like an old cartoon with blurred motion marks tracking your progress every which way. Somehow you abandoned the jumper with zero bruises.

Your breakfast/dinner menu expanded this month to include butternut squash, carrots, avocado, and zucchini. As fast as I can puree a new treat, you chomp it down. Already you are eating two cubes of food, and you prefer them mixed. Pears go with peas. Squash goes with zucchini. Apples and avocado. The fun part for your daddy and I is that with all those beautiful colors going in, the aesthetics of what come out have changed. Trust me when I tell you that orange and green on the bottom end are not as attractive.

You had to say your first goodbye this month. Your original babysitter, Donna, introduced you to morning naps and porch play time. She is a good one, Dex, and we were sad that she couldn’t watch you anymore.

Judging by your smile when I pick you up at your new babysitter’s house, you’re adjusting well. I think it’s because she lets you watch 10 minutes of TV (Baby Einstein) every day. Sigh. Already other people are spoiling you.

As I am writing this you are on the floor, inching yourself forward. I have a feeling that crawling is in your future. Even though I get down on my hands and knees and cheer your on in your new endeavor, when I get back up on my feet and take a step back…whoa. I cannot believe that my little boy is going to crawl. That he intentionally kicks toys out of his way. That he can grab and hold his rinse cup…and tries to drink bath water from it.

When you’re 18, Roo, these accomplishments may seem tiny. Even I would agree that they are small steps. But only when compared to the giant leap my heart makes each time.

Happy Five Months.

dexter: four months

You laugh like a real person. It seems absurd that you already know how to express humor and joy. Shocking that a sound I make would easily cross your lips. The few times I’ve heard you chuckle, it has stopped me in my tracks. I give you a wide-eyed look of awe. In return, you glance slyly at me. Then we both crack up.

And then you pull my hair.

You’re naturally talented at it. Somehow those little fingers weave an intricate pattern between the tiny hairs at the nape of my neck. It only takes you seconds to twist a fistful in your death grip. And braids? Were those a bad idea! Apparently you think braids are a climbing rope on your journey to the summit that is my head.

On the ground, you still enjoy rolling over and hold the record for fastest flip. One point three seconds exactly. It was a proud moment for us all. Though you have yet to sit up and stay up independently, you continue to try. Especially when you are on your changing table. Or when I’m trying to buckle you into your car seat.

With all the extra activities, you’ve had to keep your strength up. We’ve introduced you to sweet potatoes, pears, apples, and peas. Thankfully you are not allergic to peas like your daddy. However, you try your hardest to convince us that peas are not fit for human consumption. Your little mouth twists up in a grimace and you shudder as if the spoon contained the contents of a dumpster left sitting in the sun. We don’t allow you to be picky. Dumpster spoon or no, we can usually distract you with the airplane/racecar/rollercoaster game long enough to deliver the bite.

I treasure our moments even more now that I’m back at work. Weekdays from 8 until 4 you share your smiles with your babysitter, Donna.

Though you quickly allayed my fears of abandonment and amnesia, it hurts that someone else is in your heart. That someone else witnesses your newest feats of strength. That someone else holds you when you cry.

I’ll be honest. Parts of me are excited to do a job I love. To speak adult. And to challenge my creativity.

But, Dexter, those parts of me are still stamped with your name. I simply close my eyes, and there you are.

Happy Four Months.

dexter: three months

This month you discovered toys. Because of this fondness for plastic keyboards that light up and sing, our living room has begun featuring a "Toys"R"Us" motif. I watch you sit so confidently in your play saucer and wonder over your instinctive grasp of how to properly see-saw koala bears. You get so excited that your whole body shakes with it. You have also decided that my phone is a target to obtain and drool all over. Your daddy takes this as a sign that you will be a tech-nerd like him.

You contine to enjoy grabbing at the monkey and giraffe hanging merrily from your play mat. However, now you actually catch them. And use them to roll over.

That's right...you can roll over! It's only happened five times, but you've used this new skill to showcase your stubborn side. You will happily flip, flip, flip from one side to the other, getting yourself prepared for the big roll until I grab my camera. Then you give me a big slobbery grin and stay planted firmly on your back.

All refusals to perform aside, you are no longer content to lie around all day. Our daily regime consists of 20 minutes of sitting up, 30 minutes of standing practice, another 20 minutes of rolling time, and an hour or so of wandering around the house and yard together. We're looking into a personal trainer for you.

Actually, as much as I enjoy the occasional nap break, I wouldn't give up our little workouts. You have introduced me to amazement and incredible self-doubt. Already I worry that by not putting you on a feeding schedule, or by allowing you to nap in the living room instead of in your room, I am putting your life on a collision course with jail or even worse...politics.

Then you take a moment out of your busy day to smile at me. To practice your pterodactyl squeal when I sing you a verse of "Dexter is a Smart Boy." Or to nestle on my shoulder after a long day on the boat.

Maybe, just maybe, I'm doing something right. Happy Three Months.

dexter: two months

Today you one-upped your father. Needles make his room spin, but you took three shots like a champ. I held your hands, though you didn’t seem to need the comfort. I am both proud and saddened at that thought.

You’ve started sleeping 7 – 8 hours at night! Your daddy and I brag about this to anyone who inquires as if we have accomplished something tremendous. What I don’t tell them is how it scared me to death the first time you slept that long. And how I stood beside your crib staring down at your little chest moving up and down for about 45 minutes, just to assure myself that you were alive.

In other news, you love to stand up on me while I try to coax a burp out of you. Apparently I am a mountain you want to climb. Your eyes go hugely round and your right foot stomps and stomps and stomps like you have places to go and just can’t wait to get there.

Just last week you reached for the bugs that hang off of your car seat and ACTUALLY CAPTURED ONE! All hail the abdominal muscles of my baby boy! You have been straining against the harness of that seat for weeks and finally your hard work paid off. Man, you love those bugs.

EMBARRASSING FUN FACT: You adore horrible pop music. Now, these artists won’t mean a whole lot to you in 16 years or so, but feel free to peruse the digital archives to confirm that you started life with awful taste in music. Your ear-splitting screams quiet to the likes of Christina Aguilera’s “Genie in a Bottle” and TLC’s “No Scrubs.” I blame internet radio for your addiction.

This month I feel like you have become a real baby. No longer a newborn. You follow your daddy and me around with your eyes and you recognize us when we enter your field of vision. You laugh and smile and crave the outdoors. And your Uncle Joe Paul swears he taught you to wave because you love to mimic hand gestures.

But you are still my little baby who sleeps best on his mama’s chest. I think I sleep best with you there, too.

Happy Two Months.

dexter: one month

Ten pounds! I celebrate your hugeness all while cradling your tiny body in a single arm. This month has brought you the understanding of day versus night and I get to see your eyes more while the sun is up. You have now pooped on your Daddy four times. Thank you, Dexter, for not extending me the same courtesy.

Speaking of poop (well, let’s face it, that is one of your three main activities these days), you make the Blue Steel face when you’re trying so hard to push one out. Remind me to watch Zoolander with you when you’re old enough so you can appreciate the similarities in the pictures we’ve taken.

It hasn’t been easy for me. After 3 hours of crying, it’s all I can do not to sit you in your swing and run for the door. Sometimes I doubt myself about this mom stuff, but I hope you never doubt that I’ll keep trying.

I tell you constantly that you are smart and strong, and you prove me right when you lift your little head off my shoulder and push yourself half off my lap with your kickboxer legs. You are smart. You are strong.

When you stare at my face and wave your right hand around, I’m tempted to turn an ear your way. One day soon I’ll get to hear the story you are desperate to tell me. Until then I will have to settle for those quiet moments when it’s just you and me in the rocker at 2am. You nestle yourself under my chin and grunt yourself to sleep. I might dream of 8 hours of uninterrupted sleep, my son. But I could sit in that rocker all night.

Happy One Month.

 

dexter: day 4

You’re only on your fourth day of life, Dexter, and already you are your own little person. I’m staring from across the room as your Daddy tries to burp you and wonders exactly how hard to tap your tiny little back. It hasn’t been easy these last couple of days. No one told me how a walk across the hospital room could be excruciating and much energy it would take to tear myself out of a hospital bed when you cried. The C-section was never my plan, but I can’t regret it. It got me you. The tiny baby with the reddish tints in his surprisingly dark blonde hair. The wrinkly face with the big eyes that go all round when you get hungry. The way you immediately quiet when I touch your face and say your name. The funny left foot that kicks straight up in the air like a flagpole.

You, Dexter Lenox Dean, were worth it. Welcome to the world.

 

big dreams

when i was 13 years old, i could easily name all the professions i DIDN'T want to be. not a doctor (eww, too much blood), or a vet (too many dogs), not a teacher (kids are annoying), or the president (not enough power). other than that, my options were open.

just 4 years later, i walked shakily to a podium and urged my classmates to build their dreams into beautiful castles. to gather the stones of their own journey and refuse to look back. my mind danced with visions of literary greatness, political lobbying, and covert ops.

then college happened. what had been previously praised as limitless options was tied down by the label "undecided." no major seemed to point directly to where i wanted to be, so i tried advertising. the idea of being my own think-tank appealed, and the thought of writing short messages for the world was a strong seductive force.

for a time.

now i teach. i demonstrate, i mold, i provide the foundation for other peoples' dreams. it is a noble and wonderful profession. and yet some days it's not enough. some days i open the blueprints of my castle and grieve for the stones not gathered. and lately i wonder if "undecided" has forever captured my limitless options.