Monkey is learning his body parts. Let's see how well he does.
Daddy: Monkey, where is your head?
Monkey:
Daddy: Where are your eyes?
Monkey:
Daddy: Where is your mouth?
Monkey:
Daddy: Where is your foot?
Monkey: (notice the foot underneath the tray and the vacant stare as he watches The Wiggles)
He also knows where his belly is but that becomes difficult to show you when he is in a high chair. We are still working on nose and ears. And, after I did all this, I turned to Brian and said... "This was one of those time I should have video taped it... huh?"
Happy Holidays all...
Tuesday, December 21, 2010
Wednesday, December 15, 2010
Year is Almost Over
I know, I've only blogged once during December and I don't want you to get your hopes up that I'll pick up the speed soon. I'm thinking December is just going to be blog-light. I've put together a list of excuses for your viewing pleasure:
A while back Monkey began tearing out pieces of books with thin pages (i.e. not board books) and the pages of catalogs that Daddy would give him to play with because "he wanted the catalogs." I would find these little pieces of paper all over the house. But recently, Monkey has become quite considerate and now, after he tears out the pages of catalogs that Mommy gave him because "well, Daddy already did it so it was just easier to continue to give them to him" he brings the torn out pieces of paper to me. Now, I get to collect all the paper and I don't find any sitting around the house.
So, if you recall, a while back Monkey found my underwear drawer and had started to wear my underwear as scarves and other accessories. I had to relocate my underwear and I left a few pairs for him that I never wear. Well... what I didn't tell you is that my bras are in a drawer underneath where my underwear used to live. So, Monkey has also been in my bra drawer. Usually he just takes them out and piles them on the ground. But, the other day he decided to wear one along with his underwear (that sentence was just really weird to write) and when I went to put on one of my bras the drawer was empty.
So, I said out loud, "Where did all my bras go?" and Monkey was off. He ran out of my bedroom and one by one brought all of my bras back to me. I don't really know how I feel about the fact that my 15-month old knows the word for bra.
My tall and lean baby has some wardrobe malfunctions. Since his torso is long but his legs are short, he is still wearing 12-month pants. But, since he is lean even the 12-month pants are too big in the waist. So, when he isn't wearing his shoes, his pants start to slide down. While this gives him a very "urban" look, it also makes him trip over his pants while he is running with abandon throughout the apartment. So, I started to tell him to pull his pants up. At first he looked at me like I had two heads. Then he "figured it out" and would start to pull his pants down. But, just last week, when I said it again he actually pulled up his pants. He has repeated this behavior enough to make me think he now understands the actual words.
And finally, my new favorite thing... Monkey blows kisses. Granted, I have to blow about 6000 kisses to him, then he smiles and I get one kiss in return, but it is so worth it.
Okay, we are soon off to NJ for Christmas. I'll try to remember to take lots of pictures and videos and post them. Hopefully, next year Monkey can spend Christmas in his own house with a tree since last year we were moving and this year we will be up North.
And I'll leave you with this image... Monkey climbing out of pot in to which he had previously climbed. Happy Holidays!!
- Turns out I'm only home for 19 days in December.
- Of those 19 days, Brian is gone for 6 of them (so I'm playing "single mom" this week - a role I'm not a fan of).
- I'm pregnant (yes, still... I know I haven't talked about it much but that doesn't mean it isn't real).
- It's Christmastime which means I have to buy presents, coordinate travel, and cook baked ziti for Brian's work Christmas party (it makes sense in my head... must go with it).
- I'm building a house (cross your fingers, supposed to be done in mid-January) and I surprisingly have responsibilities attached to that - even though we leave a lot up to the builder.
- My mom has cancer (come on, if she can throw the cancer card why can't I?).
A while back Monkey began tearing out pieces of books with thin pages (i.e. not board books) and the pages of catalogs that Daddy would give him to play with because "he wanted the catalogs." I would find these little pieces of paper all over the house. But recently, Monkey has become quite considerate and now, after he tears out the pages of catalogs that Mommy gave him because "well, Daddy already did it so it was just easier to continue to give them to him" he brings the torn out pieces of paper to me. Now, I get to collect all the paper and I don't find any sitting around the house.
So, if you recall, a while back Monkey found my underwear drawer and had started to wear my underwear as scarves and other accessories. I had to relocate my underwear and I left a few pairs for him that I never wear. Well... what I didn't tell you is that my bras are in a drawer underneath where my underwear used to live. So, Monkey has also been in my bra drawer. Usually he just takes them out and piles them on the ground. But, the other day he decided to wear one along with his underwear (that sentence was just really weird to write) and when I went to put on one of my bras the drawer was empty.
So, I said out loud, "Where did all my bras go?" and Monkey was off. He ran out of my bedroom and one by one brought all of my bras back to me. I don't really know how I feel about the fact that my 15-month old knows the word for bra.
My tall and lean baby has some wardrobe malfunctions. Since his torso is long but his legs are short, he is still wearing 12-month pants. But, since he is lean even the 12-month pants are too big in the waist. So, when he isn't wearing his shoes, his pants start to slide down. While this gives him a very "urban" look, it also makes him trip over his pants while he is running with abandon throughout the apartment. So, I started to tell him to pull his pants up. At first he looked at me like I had two heads. Then he "figured it out" and would start to pull his pants down. But, just last week, when I said it again he actually pulled up his pants. He has repeated this behavior enough to make me think he now understands the actual words.
And finally, my new favorite thing... Monkey blows kisses. Granted, I have to blow about 6000 kisses to him, then he smiles and I get one kiss in return, but it is so worth it.
Okay, we are soon off to NJ for Christmas. I'll try to remember to take lots of pictures and videos and post them. Hopefully, next year Monkey can spend Christmas in his own house with a tree since last year we were moving and this year we will be up North.
And I'll leave you with this image... Monkey climbing out of pot in to which he had previously climbed. Happy Holidays!!
Tuesday, December 7, 2010
The Big "C"
For those of you who don't know, my mom has breast cancer. She was diagnosed in early October, had he mastectomy in November and I just got back from visiting/taking care of her (which was a joke if you know my mom). She only has it in one breast, it's ductal, it's in one lymph node but not in her muscle (some is hanging outside her lymph node though), it's stage II, blah, blah, blah, and more medical information. Really, let's leave all of that to the doctors... all I know is that my mom has cancer.
When she was first diagnosed it felt like she had the flu - something she just had to get over by resting and drinking plenty of fluids. And then she had her mastectomy and somehow it all became real. And all those years of sitting at the kitchen table eating dinner while my dad was on the phone talking cancer became very very real. From what I'm told, the good news is that she has slow moving and well-behaved caner (because what other kind of cancer would dare infiltrate my mom) but she still has cancer. And let me tell you something, having cancer sucks.
It isn't the actual disease that sucks so much, it's everything else. My opinion is simply based on my observations and the amount of times (I think it was approximately 2, 351 give or take a thousand) that I heard my mom say "Having cancer is like having a job." Because, you see, when you have cancer you have about 100 different doctors that all "coordinate" your care (and add to that my Dad who is still wearing his doctor's coat at every turn). Just last week my mom had appointments to see her breast surgeon, plastic surgeon, and oncologist. This week she has / had appointments to get a MUGA (I know I'm so not spelling that correctly especially since all I could think about when they were talking about it was that it sounded how my husband, with his Cambridge accent, would pronounce "mugger"), see her dentist (not specifically related to the cancer but in a way it is), go to her vascular surgeon to get her portacath put in and see her plastic surgeon again. I know she still has to make appointments with a radiation oncologist and a physical therapist and I'm sure she has to see a slew of other doctors at some point, like maybe an orthopedic doctor or heck, why not a gynecologist just for fun? But somehow she has to see all these physicians, keep track of what they tell her, and make sense out of all the opinions.
And now she gets to look forward to 16 weeks of chemotherapy (4 weeks of the big guns and then 12 of the not-so-big guns if there is such a thing), however many weeks of having her expander (a torture contraption they put in her breast so they could expand it - hence the name - a little at a time and stretch the skin for her impending implant) expanded, possibly some weeks of radiation, and then another surgery to put in her new boob. I mean, I'm jealous of her just typing this all out.
But, my mom being my mom, looks at all the positives and she has found quite a few. She is amazed, awed, and humbled by the amount of people who are praying for her and sending her good wishes. The 2 buffets in her dining room and the dining room table are covered with cards from more people than I think I even know. When I arrived at her house last week she had at least 5 beautiful flower arrangements out and more were delivered. I didn't even have to cook while I was there because people just kept bringing her food. And the phone rang off the hook of people who wanted to make sure she was okay and tell her they love her. And, to top it all off, my father has started going to church with her again (but much to her chagrin she still has an unbaptized grandchild which I'm sure she is praying about this very minute).
At the moment, I don't know how I really feel about this whole situation. All I keep hearing is good news from her doctors (even though her breast surgeon may want to rethink the phrase "killer report" when referring to a good pathology report), she is healing well (already driving and reaching her hand above her head 2 weeks out from her mastectomy... what do you want, she is an overachiever), and everyone is positive. But, my mom has cancer so there is that.
I'm just glad she allowed me to come up and help her out for a week and I guess, much like her, I'll just have to wait to see what the next step is. But I know whatever it is she will face it head on with a legion of people behind her supporting her and loving her. And that is a testament to the amazing woman my mom is (which hopefully someday she will be able to acknowledge and not be constantly surprised that people are affected by her diagnosis).
When she was first diagnosed it felt like she had the flu - something she just had to get over by resting and drinking plenty of fluids. And then she had her mastectomy and somehow it all became real. And all those years of sitting at the kitchen table eating dinner while my dad was on the phone talking cancer became very very real. From what I'm told, the good news is that she has slow moving and well-behaved caner (because what other kind of cancer would dare infiltrate my mom) but she still has cancer. And let me tell you something, having cancer sucks.
It isn't the actual disease that sucks so much, it's everything else. My opinion is simply based on my observations and the amount of times (I think it was approximately 2, 351 give or take a thousand) that I heard my mom say "Having cancer is like having a job." Because, you see, when you have cancer you have about 100 different doctors that all "coordinate" your care (and add to that my Dad who is still wearing his doctor's coat at every turn). Just last week my mom had appointments to see her breast surgeon, plastic surgeon, and oncologist. This week she has / had appointments to get a MUGA (I know I'm so not spelling that correctly especially since all I could think about when they were talking about it was that it sounded how my husband, with his Cambridge accent, would pronounce "mugger"), see her dentist (not specifically related to the cancer but in a way it is), go to her vascular surgeon to get her portacath put in and see her plastic surgeon again. I know she still has to make appointments with a radiation oncologist and a physical therapist and I'm sure she has to see a slew of other doctors at some point, like maybe an orthopedic doctor or heck, why not a gynecologist just for fun? But somehow she has to see all these physicians, keep track of what they tell her, and make sense out of all the opinions.
And now she gets to look forward to 16 weeks of chemotherapy (4 weeks of the big guns and then 12 of the not-so-big guns if there is such a thing), however many weeks of having her expander (a torture contraption they put in her breast so they could expand it - hence the name - a little at a time and stretch the skin for her impending implant) expanded, possibly some weeks of radiation, and then another surgery to put in her new boob. I mean, I'm jealous of her just typing this all out.
But, my mom being my mom, looks at all the positives and she has found quite a few. She is amazed, awed, and humbled by the amount of people who are praying for her and sending her good wishes. The 2 buffets in her dining room and the dining room table are covered with cards from more people than I think I even know. When I arrived at her house last week she had at least 5 beautiful flower arrangements out and more were delivered. I didn't even have to cook while I was there because people just kept bringing her food. And the phone rang off the hook of people who wanted to make sure she was okay and tell her they love her. And, to top it all off, my father has started going to church with her again (but much to her chagrin she still has an unbaptized grandchild which I'm sure she is praying about this very minute).
At the moment, I don't know how I really feel about this whole situation. All I keep hearing is good news from her doctors (even though her breast surgeon may want to rethink the phrase "killer report" when referring to a good pathology report), she is healing well (already driving and reaching her hand above her head 2 weeks out from her mastectomy... what do you want, she is an overachiever), and everyone is positive. But, my mom has cancer so there is that.
I'm just glad she allowed me to come up and help her out for a week and I guess, much like her, I'll just have to wait to see what the next step is. But I know whatever it is she will face it head on with a legion of people behind her supporting her and loving her. And that is a testament to the amazing woman my mom is (which hopefully someday she will be able to acknowledge and not be constantly surprised that people are affected by her diagnosis).
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