We worry about what a child will become tomorrow, yet we forget that he is someone today. ~ Stacia Tauscher
Having finally emerged from the cultural rock under which I’ve spent the last several years, I’ve discovered a most wonderful blog called The Feminist Breeder, written by Gina Crosley-Corcoran. Those of you who know me well will not be surprised at how much I love this site — as someone who has frequently had to defend her feminist credentials against people who believe that you can’t be a feminist and make the “traditional” choices to marry a man and have children, I’d love it for the name alone.
Gina offered a bit of a challenge back in February, suggesting that all her readers record (either in the comments on her entry or on our own blogs) 15 things that we want to remember about our children as they are right now. So, since my memory bears more resemblance to a sieve than to a metal box, and (let’s face it) since I’ve been less than über-bloggy lately, I’m rising to her challenge! Can I keep it to only 15, I wonder?
15 Things That I Want To Remember About My Baby Boy At The Age Of 10 Months:
1. My little guy doesn’t have much hair, but what he has sticks STRAIGHT up. All-natural faux-hawk. It would be the cutest thing ever if the rest of him wasn’t right there putting the lie to that statement.
2. When I first come into his nursery in the morning (or after a nap), my bitty boy’s face lights up like it’s Christmas and his birthday and every other special once-a-year-type holiday imaginable. HE THINKS I’M AWESOME. It might have a bit to do with the fact that the first thing we do, before I take him out of his crib, is play kissie-face through the bars. But even without that, he seems to think I’m pretty rad.
3. Anytime he tries a new food, the first expression he makes is one of sheer disgust. It’s only after the food hits his tongue and he thinks about it for a moment that he decides whether he likes it or not. Disgusting until proven delicious, that’s his motto.
4. The most wonderful parts of any day are the parts he spends chasing the cats around the living room. He squeals, grunts, and chuckles with glee as he hauls himself across the floor in pursuit of two increasingly high-strung kitties.
5. Like many breast-fed babies, he stares freely at women’s breasts, clearly contemplating lunch potential. I try to explain to him that this is rude and inappropriate, but he ignores me.
6. My baby is an adrenaline junkie. His favorite games all involve being tossed, bounced, or otherwise manhandled (babyhandled?) He never gets tired of the Mommy-coaster. I worry that this may lead to motorcycles and sky-diving, or even to riding his bike without a helmet.
7. Most of his favorite toys are books. The apple sure doesn’t fall far from the tree, does it?
8. I don’t dare leave my smart phone lying around, because in my little boy’s eyes it is the Holy Grail of baby toys.
9. This child is capable of finding even the most unlikely of hard edges and bruising his head rather badly on it. I don’t know how he does it. For a while I was afraid to take him outside in public because of the shiner he gave himself on a shelf. I would have had social workers swooping in from every direction, like dementors drawn to a Quidditch match.
10. He thinks that he has figured out how to give kisses. He grins, opens his mouth wide, sticks out his tongue, and proceeds to press his mouth against you. Either he’s trying to give kisses, or he’s trying to eat us. I just hope his technique improves before he starts trying this with girlfriends.
11. At more than 10 months old, he only has two teeth.
12. I know I shouldn’t, but sometimes I’m just exhausted and so … I leave the TV on with him in the room. And I’m not terribly particular about what’s on. It doesn’t seem to matter much anyway — the best part of any television program is, in my child’s eyes, the credits. He stares in wonderment.
13. A favorite mealtime game is Feed Mama. My boy will hold out whatever he’s eating — a puff, a bit of freeze-dried strawberry, whatever — and grin expectantly. My job is to open my mouth so that he can place the food inside. Sometimes he even lets go of it.
14. Being put in the playpen is the WORST. THING. EVER. He has named it Baby Purgatory (okay, okay, I named it, but he came up with the concept by crying and glaring at me accusingly whenever I put him into it so that I can go to the bathroom.)
15.He seems to prefer music with a lot of heavy bass. Guns ‘n’ Roses is a favorite. He’s a rock ‘n’ roll baby, baby!