Baby Turns Two

Ignoring the (sad and shocking) fact that this is the first update since February, and moving on to today.

Fiona turned two today. She is officially a toddler, a child. Not a baby anymore, although her impossibly chubby cheeks and thighs beg to differ. I remember a year ago doing something similar to what I did today, albeit with more fervor being still so close to the year prior. There were several moments of, "Two years ago right now, I was knee deep in the misery known as labor. Two years ago right now, I was realizing there was no turning back. Two years ago right now, I became a mother."

But Fiona's second birthday today seems to be much more about her than her first birthday was. Last year we had a big party with friends and family. There was a huge cake, presents galore, older (and a few younger) children galloping around the place like little fiends. And there was Fiona, who really couldn't have cared less. But for M and me, it was a serious milestone. We had survived our first year as parents. This year the party counted just the three of us, an oversize cupcake to share, the video camera, and a couple of presents. It appears as though M and I also survived our second year of parenthood, though not without some scars and long term trauma. Most importantly, Fiona survived it, too, and with not a little aplomb.

What's next on the agenda? Well, after cake and presents, a quick video chat with Nae Nae out in Arizona, a bath to deal with the remnants of cake, and one final singing of "Happy Birthday," Fiona's in bed, and I'm left to wonder what on earth really is next. It's been pretty easy up to this point. Fiona has her issues, but we've dealt with them as best we could. But she's starting to get stuff now that she's getting older, and I'm exaggerating only a little when I say I think she may be smarter than I am. How we will manage this is beyond me. But then, it's quite possible that two years ago right now, I was thinking the exact same thing.

Baby's First Cold

It had to happen sometime. After almost 15 months of blissfully good health, Fiona finally got her first cold. It came on subtly: last Thursday she was just a little off, not too interested in food, kinda crabby. Friday morning when she woke up, she had a thoroughly crusty nose, and my mother-in-law informed me later that day that Fi was officially a sick little puppy. She was in good spirits, though, and played most of the day with her usual vigor.

Of course, when I showed up to pick her up that evening she took one look at me and remembered that she was sick and demanded some love and attention, which I gladly dispensed to my usually independent child. By Saturday evening, she was still congested but apparently feeling better. Not so on Sunday. More congestion, more crabby. Poor little shaver. As of today, she's on the mend again, but I have her humidifier on full blast to do as much as I can to alleviate the snot block going on in her wee noggin.

The dreaded toddler cold couldn't be held at bay forever. Lots of things conspired against poor Fiona. On Halloween morning, we visited a day care just to check it out, and she naturally got her little hands all over all kinds of stuff that lots of other little hands had been on. Then the day after Halloween we had a party that was overrun with other kids, much to Fi's delight; much toy-sharing and drool exchange transpired. The following Tuesday, I took her to the pediatrician fearing she had an ear infection (no ear infection; apparently, she's an ear tugger). Her immune system - no longer benefiting from the antibodies in breastmilk - just couldn't withstand those voracious germs.

Still, we weathered this first cold pretty well, I think. She has continued to sleep like a champ (14 hours a day!) and still finds great comfort in food. Especially apples, which she enjoys gnawing on while walking around the house. All in all, it could have been worse.

Kissy

Yesterday was a banner day for Fiona and me. For the most part, it was a normal Sunday. She and I went out and about to run errands (i.e., I dragged her through a couple of stores in her stroller while she came patiently along for the ride). By the time we got home in the late afternoon, she was good and mellow after being exposed to so much rampant consumerism. I understand this feeling, it has the same effect on me.

To make what would usually be a very long story with lots of background short, I'll get right to the point. I got my first baby kiss from Fiona yesterday. An honest-to-goodness kiss. I had to ask, plead, beg, and otherwise cajole it out of her. But suddenly she gave in (after approximately 8 months of me trying to convince her that it would be fun to give Mommy a smooch).

I've since learned from others that babies don't do much in the way of puckering. It's all mouth. This would explain why what I really got was less kiss and more slobber. But it was terribly, terribly sweet. When she planted her drooly little 'O' mouth on mine, my heart just melted. This is what makes the (admittedly rare) late night or midnight waking worth it (not to mention a million other things).

So far there's been no repeat smooch, but this wasn't her first (kiss #1 went to Grampa, M's dad, a few weeks ago - and while it wasn't to me, I didn't feel too badly about it because at least I got to see it), so it certainly won't be her last. Tomorrow, we fly out to Arizona to visit NaeNae (my mother). Perhaps we can convince her to shell out a few more smooches.

February Flashback to Fargo

As I mentioned in the January Flashback post, February was a pretty big month for little Fiona. So what if February was eight million years ago? Let's get recap-tastic!

Early in the month, I started researching a possible trip for Fiona and me to Fargo, North Dakota. My paternal grandmother's 90th birthday was looming on the horizon, and it seemed like just the kind of excuse I needed to get out there and introduce the young one to her great grandmother, grandfather, and other assorted relatives. I struck gold when I found a relatively affordable flight out of Boston going direct to Minneapolis, from where my aunt generously offered to pick us up and drive us to Fargo. I booked the hell out of it, not with a little trepidation. Flying? Alone? WITH A BABY? Oy, this was new territory.


M's parents were kind enough to drive us to the airport, and after braving parking lot-like traffic conditions on the way that convinced me we'd be taking the next flight out, we arrived with time to spare thanks to a near-empty airport. Those of you who have ever been to Logan know that the travel gods were indeed smiling upon us that the airport was so easily traversed. Before I knew it, we were past the security line and awaiting pre-boarding. Finally! It was my chance to be in that elite group of travelers: "First class passengers, passengers with small children, or passengers who require extra time for boarding." I've been traveling by plane for going on 30 years now. This was a first for me. Yes, now it was my turn to board early.

A quick aside: I learned a lot from this trip; tips, pointers, little annoyances that I could have avoided. At some point I'll post them all, too, so that you, my vast array of readers, can benefit from my newfound knowledge. More on that later.

Anyway... I met a very nice lady in the terminal before boarding who had a baby girl just a few weeks younger than Fiona. We arranged to sit together so that a smaller section of people would be put out should both of our babies go into meltdown mode. Fiona, however, never melted down. She was amazing. I couldn't believe my luck. She didn't even have a poo-related disaster, although I did end up changing her at one point... simply because it was something to do, and at least I'd be able to say I'd changed a baby in an airplane lavatory (not really anything to write home about). I nursed Fi on the ascent in the hopes that it would prevent any painful ear popping. It apparently worked. And by the time we started the descent (said to be more painful for babies), she was asleep. But the most important and interesting tidbit about this particular flight is this: Fiona cut her first tooth! Just after we'd reached cruising altitude, I stuck my knuckle into her mouth as is normal for us only to find a sharp little addition in there. Considering this was something over which my little girl had absolutely no control, I couldn't have been prouder. And Fiona didn't have a word to say about the whole thing.

We flew direct to Minneapolis. It was more expensive to do so, but looking back I'm glad I did it. My Aunt Nancy and Uncle Dale picked us up, with a borrowed car seat all ready for Fiona. We stopped to pick up one more person in Minneapolis - Great Aunt Helen (or, to Fiona, Great-Great Aunt Helen) and set off for Fargo. Did I mention it was approximately eight degrees above zero when we landed? Yeah, good times.

We arrived in Fargo later that evening and went straight to my grandmother's house. She'd had no inkling that we would be showing up, and while she doesn't show a lot of emotion, she was clearly moved. Then all there was left to do was wait for my father's arrival. I had told my step-mother the day before that we were coming because I knew there was a chance my father would resist a random trip to my grandmother's house in the dead-cold of a North Dakota winter. I was right to have done so. He put up a fight, and my step-mother dragged his stubborn ass out of the house anyway and managed to keep mum about the real reason.

Good thing, too. In all my years, I've never seen my dad react the way he did when Fiona and I came around the corner. I'd never seen my dad cry or even tear up before that moment. He was so shocked he threw his hands up over his head and shouted something I can't remember. But it was a shout of pure happiness and surprise.

The next few days flew by in a blur of family time, eating, being too warm in my grandmother's well-heated house, and trying to maintain some semblance of Fiona's normal routine. Hard to do with a family who likes to stay up into the wee hours playing the card game golf. On February 17th, Grandma hit the 90-year mark and Fiona passed six months. Milestones all around. And the next morning,which came all too quickly, it was time to head back to Minneapolis. Of course, I missed M. And I missed all the comforts of the copious baby gear back home. But leaving my dad was tough to take.

My parents divorced when I was still a baby, and by the time I was two my mom had moved us to Montana and 600 miles away from my father. Until I had Fiona, I never realized how that might have been for him. I can barely fathom being away from her overnight, let alone 50 weeks out of the year. It makes me truly sad to think that Fiona will grow up so far away from her maternal grandfather and won't have a lot of opportunities to get to know him. It makes me more sad to think he won't have a lot of opportunities to get to know her, and I know that makes him sad, too.

But back to Minneapolis we went, to find our flight quite delayed. Which was OK because it gave me time to have a little lunch and Fiona time to have a massive, near-disastrous poo blowout. It was one of those blowouts where I knew if I left her in her stroller in the seated position for even 30 more seconds to get her to a restroom, the clothes she was wearing would need to simply be tossed. So I did the unthinkable: I changed her right there in the terminal waiting area. I've become one of those people. Oh, god, the humanity.

We got home with no problems, albeit a few hours late. To make up for it, Bobby Brown was on our flight, sitting in the same row as we were at the opposite window. Fiona's first celebrity! What good fortune to finish off her first big trip.

January Flashback

I've been quiet for a while now. Not for lack of things to write about, or for lack of moments I'd like to record and share. Strictly for lack of time and willingness to separate myself from my amazing and adorable daughter for long enough to come up with witty anecdotes and cogent points.

The aftermath of all those holiday firsts ("Baby's First Thanksgiving!" "Baby's First Christmas!" "Baby's First New Year's Eve!!") is a little like the day after your wedding. There's a bunch of planning and a bunch of anticipation. Not to mention all the family gathering madness. When you have a new baby, you're like a celebrity at these things. In our case, we were seeing a bunch of people we hadn't seen since before Fiona was born. And boy, were they psyched to meet her.

But then it was all over. Fiona will never again have a First Christmas or First Turkey Day. It was a little bit sad. But with the end of the holiday season and 2007 came the start of 2008 and a whole bunch of new possibilities.


In mid-January, we took our first road trip with the young one when we headed up to North Conway, NH for a weekend with some good friends and all the associated kids. It was chaos - all those adults and children (and adult children). The kind of chaos I never expected to tolerate and even enjoy. Fiona handled it all pretty well, even though we went through every single one of the more than enough (or so I thought) outfits we had packed. The child has a gift or... something. M was banished to the couch on the second night due to excessive snoring and the fact that Fiona refused to sleep in the pack 'n play provided for that very purpose and instead had to sleep with me in the big bed.

The weekend after that, Fiona hit the five-month mark with relatively little fanfare. It wasn't until the end of the month when she reached a small development milestone and started babbling like a maniac. For those of you with kids, you know what I'm talking about. This stuff is pure comedy. I admit, my babytalk is rusty, but I understand her perfectly well. Usually, she is just talking a blue streak and swearing like a truck driver.

February has been a pretty big month for us, but I'll get into that more in depth later. To whet your whistle, here's a preview: air travel, meeting the other grandfather, turning 1/2 year old, and ... TEETH! Stay tuned, kids!