One Year Ago

Last year at this time I was in California. Alex, Zach, and I were out there spending Thanksgiving with my amazing family and Zach’s equally amazing parents. This was the first time they met Alex, and just in the three months since he had been born he had grown immensely.

A year ago today, I noticed him grabbing small objects for the first time with his whole fist. Before that day, he would bat at them, but never hold on. He held on to a ring on his play mat, and continued to let go and grab it again and again throughout the day.

At this time, Alex had some interesting hair. (He still does, but not quite as interesting.) He never lost the full head of hair that he had been born with, but most of the hair on the sides and back or his head had thinned. The result of which gave him a hilarious baby mohawk.

Exactly one year ago yesterday, he laughed for the first time.

I don’t know why I have been thinking about one year ago, but the changes are amazing. Alex went from rolling over, just learning how to grasp an object, giggling for the first time, and waking up every 45 minutes to nurse, to a running, learning how to talk, hugging, dancing, singing, hilarious, sleeping through the night (most of the time), toddler.

One Year Ago Mosaic

Digging for Gold

For the past two weeks, Alex has been fighting a cold. It seems to be mostly gone at this point, but like any good 14 month old he’s still rather snotty. It’s amazing how much mucus someone so small can produce.

He recently discovered that he can fit his finger in his nose. Every few minutes he sticks a finger in a nostril. He digs around and then moves on to something else, only to go back to the nostril a few minutes later.

Obviously I think it’s unbelievably cute.

The things mom’s love that no one else does definitely includes the baby figuring out that a finger fits perfectly into a nostril.

Keep Your Bigotry Out Of My Constitution

Prop 8 Protest in Pittsburgh

Prop 8 Protest in Pittsburgh

Prop 8 Protest in Pittsburgh

Prop 8 Protest in Pittsburgh

Prop 8 Protest in Pittsburgh

The protest was a success. About 500 people showed up, marched around Oakland, and at least 20 people gave speeches. Many of the stories were beautiful, and many were very painful.

A couple was married in Massachusetts and now has two adorable sons. Beautiful.

A young man misses his partner, who is in Iraq. While his partner is risking his life for a country that he loves, he has to hide who he really is. Tragic.

A young woman has lost all contact with her family, who believes that she is sick. Depressing.

A young girl has been ridiculed and verbally abused her whole life because she was born with Cerebral Palsy. She is straight and has experienced hate first hand. She doesn’t want anyone to be discriminated against. Moving.

An elderly couple, easily in their 50’s, holds hands, hugs, and each smile at the amazing support they are receiving and witnessing. They have clearly gone through a lot, dealt with prejudice, and grown together immensely. They are strong, beautiful.

A mother supports her gay son. She wants what every mother wants: for her son to have every opportunity to be happy, healthy, and cared for. Loving.

I spent the afternoon walking around with Alex, listening to everyone share their stories. I wanted to say something, but couldn’t figure out what to say. Hearing so many people talk, tell what they have gone through, or why they support the movement, made me realize that we are not a country of bigots. We certainly have a long way to go, but we will get there. Eventually.

You don’t have to support homosexuals. You don’t even have to like them. You have to realize that this is about more than “yay, gay!” It’s about rights. Human rights. It’s about the fact that you can’t take away a person’s rights. It’s about equality. Equality.

Don’t stop fighting.

I don’t want my son to grow up in a country where not everyone is given the same rights. Alex should be able to get married whether he is gay or straight. He shouldn’t make more money than an equally qualified woman. He shouldn’t get a job because he is white and the other applicant is not. I want Alex to see that we are a wonderful country that isn’t so hateful.

Prop 8 Protest in Pittsburgh

The Screaming

Alex has started screaming.

Full blown, top of his lungs, mouth wide-open, screaming.

He screams when he’s sitting in his highchair without any food. He screams when I put him in his playpen in order to take care of something. He screams when he’s bored. He screams when he’s tired. He screams. He’s not crying, not talking to himself, just screaming. Loudly.

It’s not cute.

He screamed while we were grocery shopping today. I was looking at the eight thousand different varieties of pasta and was apparently taking too long. While I was debating between some brand name or store brand rigatoni, he just started screaming. He was staring at me while he was screaming, as if he was saying, “Do something about this! I’m bored!”

Fortunately, I had a box of Annie’s Macaroni and Cheese that he could shake and chew on and entertain himself with. Until, naturally, he dropped it in the next aisle. And screamed some more.

Busted Camera

I have so many wonderful pictures on my camera. Beautiful pictures of Alex, adorable pictures of Zach and Alex, and hilarious pictures of being with my friends. I can’t get them onto my computer, though.

Something is clearly wrong. It could be my computer, which I have a box that it will fit into perfectly for it’s trip to the smart Apple people who are going to fix it. It could be the camera. It could be the USB cord that connects the camera to the computer. It could be me, but I’ve been using this camera for quite a while now and never had this problem before.

I have a picture of the huge bruise on Alex’s nose from being bonked on the head with a chair. I have some adorable pictures of Alex and Zach running together, and a few of Alex running by himself. I even have some hilarious pictures of the ridiculousness that was my night of freedom.

Maybe one day I’ll be able to share them.

Chair Phobia

Alex is going to have some serious chair phobia. Seriously, he should always be held. At least when there are chairs anywhere near by.

Yesterday afternoon, Sarah and I were waiting in line, after some shopping, at Panera. A young cashier was rudely repeating a question to an elderly woman who was hard of hearing when Sarah’s phone rang. It was Zach, trying to get ahold of me, the person who has a cell phone that she never seems to be able to hear ring.

“I hurt Alex.”

I thought maybe he pinched him, or poked him in the eye (both of which I have done accidentally).

“I hit him with a chair.”

“You hit him with a chair?” I suppress a small giggle, knowing that it wasn’t on purpose and that he was probably fine, considering Zach wasn’t saying anything about running to the hospital.

“Not on purpose.”

Zach has successfully taught Alex that the vacuum is not scary, so now Alex walks around following the vacuum and placing things on top of it. He no longer cries when it runs, waiting for it to turn off in order to run over to it and knock it over. Instead, he stalks it. Wherever the vacuum is, Alex is. He walks behind it, runs in front of it, touches it and places his toys on top of it.

Apparently he snuck up behind Zach at one point, and when Zach went to pull a dining room chair out from under the table he hit Alex with the chair.

He has a huge bruise on the bridge of his nose that extends to the inside corner of his left eye.

Poor kid. After his last encounter with a chair and now being smacked in the face with one, he is totally going to have a chair phobia.

Run Run Run and Run

Alex loves to run. Run, Run, Run, and Run. His favorite way to run is holding hands with someone. Tonight, Zach spent a good twenty minutes holding Alex’s hands running back and forth across the living room, around the dining room table, into and out of the kitchen.

When people say that most of your time watching a toddler will be spent literally chasing them from place to place they aren’t kidding. Once Alex could crawl it became a constant chase. Now that he can run I will never have a minute to sit down calmly.

Not that I have successfully found any minutes to be calm since he was born.