33 months

Like the other significant developmental leaps that have occurred in River’s short life, month 33 has been a big one. Within a period of a few weeks, he suddenly became a real person. Someone who inquires where I’m going, where I was, what I was doing, and takes in my answers with acceptance and thoughtfulness. Someone who points to a whale in a book, then points to a page with a seal and says, “Whales eat these,” with confidence. Then asks me what else whales eat, forcing me to look it up. Someone who takes great joy in the arrival of fall and the falling of the leaves, who will open the curtains and stare contently when he’s supposed to be napping, wanting to watch the leaves turn color and drop. Someone who understands things – what the different colors on a stoplight mean, what the different lights on the electronic toothbrush indicate, how to use a pair of garden scissors to cut flowers at the stem, how to choose the right tomatoes off the bushes.

The connections that have been made are more complicated. I can see his retention and hear his constant questioning. Now in the role of teacher, I’m explaining things like how waste is removed from port-o-potties, or how water comes down drain pipes. Though he’s physically very cautious, so far, he has no fear of ideas. We talk about monsters (and have put up Halloween monster stickers on our front door) and mention the death of animals without him showing any concern.

I’m starting to see how at this new stage, a stimulating preschool could be a good investment. By next fall, I think he would benefit greatly by being in a situation where he’s exposed to new ideas on a regular basis, where he learns how things work, where he has the chance to build upon what he knows and make new connections.

The building of a mind, a personality, an individual, is such a beautiful process to watch and to participate in. I’m a captive spectator.

The Difference a Year Makes

I just spent some time looking at old videos. Watching River from one year ago is almost like seeing a different person, or the same person at a much, much lower level of development. He couldn’t walk, he was even wobbling sitting, his communication was mainly through pointing and grunts, he was roly-poly heavy and very much a baby. What a big change 12 months has brought.

Moving toward disaster

Happy Valentine’s Day to all those celebrating. I hope all parents are able to find a few minutes of well-deserved romance.

Mark and I have decided not to celebrate Valentine’s Day. Our anniversary is not far away, so it’s worth it for us to wait a few weeks, when the dinners and flowers go down to standard prices and the valentine’s candy is on clearance. It works for us and it saves us money, but I still have to keep myself from drooling when walking by the bedecked flower shops.

In the past week alone, River has figured out how to descend a single step with comfort, he has flushed a toilet, he knows how to use my electric toothbrush, and now he’s heading toward movement that allows him to have two hands free, hands I’m sure will be filled with mischief. It’s funny how nature has designed this, to incrementally give the child more and more capabilities, to get the parents used to managing these freedoms step by step.

So far, we’ve moved along with the paces. I remember when it was hard to imagine him crawling, or how we’d safety proof the house, much less what we’d do when he could crawl up stairs. But it seems like the move toward walking is a whole different transformation. His ability to get into things will be magnified. His speed in getting from one place to another will increase exponentially.

At such times, I’m grateful for living in a small house. Two safety gates limit the area of his roaming to a very small square footage, enough that we can know what he’s up to. At least until he figures out how to open the basement door. Then we’ll have to figure out a creative way to keep him from falling into the dark, dank, creepy lower level. Maybe if he goes down there once, he’ll lose his desire to explore it again.

The first year approaches its end

River’s first birthday is fast approaching and it’s time for me to accept that he truly is almost a year old. That doesn’t seem like it should be such a difficult task, but I find myself contemplating it with wonder.

When he was born, one year seemed so far away. I knew he’d grow so much, learn so much and develop profoundly in that time. And here it is – what I see in front of me is just about what my one-year birthday boy will be like.

This past weekend we visited a friend and her two-week old baby. Seeing a newborn only reinforced the vast changes that have taken place in the past twelve months. That little baby’s wrists couldn’t have been much more than an inch in circumference. He glanced around but was still so fragile and new. He relied completely on his mother and father, who gave him the security and love he needed.

River in contrast is strong and solid, has rolls of baby fat, has an incredible ability to search out food, and will establish eye contact and throw his complete trust onto whoever is nearby, making people want to help him. We left him with relatives for the entire day on Saturday and he had a blast, seemingly not even noticing our absence.

“I think that if River was somehow abandoned, he’d find a way to survive,” Mark’s mother commented this weekend. “He’d find food and an animal would probably adopt him.” I’ve always known that River didn’t need me in particular, that he’d be perfectly happy with anyone who showered him with love. It makes me sad to know that I’m not indispensable, but also proud to see his adaptability, which continues to increase with time.

River now eats the same things I do. He moves with confidence and enthusiasm. He went up and down stairs independently for the first time today. He’s on the verge of walking and we expect it any day now. He understands what I’m saying and is able to respond to some questions and requests. He’s able to make his desires clear. He’s just about 27 pounds and is a hunk of soft baby flesh as smooth and white as marble. He can hug me repeatedly within a matter of minutes, falling into me with a laugh and making me feel better than almost anything else I could imagine. He has made me a better person – more patient, more empathetic, more focused on spirituality, community and doing small things to help others, more capable of love than I ever imagined.

We’re hosting his birthday party this coming Sunday, so it’s time to start planning a bit. We don’t have family nearby, so we’ve invited our friends with small children and requested no gifts. I plan to make one of River’s favorite dishes, borscht, and a carrot cake.

I’d like River to be able to see photos from the party and to know that we acknowledged his first birthday. At the same time, I recognize that the party is mostly for us, that the anniversary of his first birth marks a great milestone for us and we want to celebrate it. I wanted to treat it as an informal gathering of friends, one which I’ve been meaning to host for a while but haven’t gotten around to it. I would provide some food, drinks and cake; my friends would each bring a side dish. We picked up a few toys for free from freecycle that we’ll give River as his gifts and we’ll buy him a helium balloon. It wouldn’t be fancy, nor would it cost a lot.

But as I thought about the balloon that I know would make him so happy, I thought about maybe getting a balloon for each baby or child in attendance. I’ve always thought gift bags were a silly idea and an added expense for a parent trying to host a child’s birthday party. But here I was actually wanting to give gifts to the babies who come. I think I appreciated their coming to share River’s special day. I wanted them to be as happy as I am that River is in our lives.

I knocked that idea out of my mind. I’m not going to spend $4-7 a piece on babies. But I started to understand where the urge to spend comes from. I’m trying hard to control it now while he’s young and doesn’t care.

Several times a day now, I look at him and try to take in – this is my almost-one year old. The face that is now looking more like a little boy’s than a baby’s is growing up. I hope this will be just the first of many birthdays, each bringing a rich collection of changes and experiences.

It's a Boy!

When I became pregnant last year (was it only last year?) I knew it was possible I could have a boy. The timing of conception led that way. I felt it would be a boy. But psychologically, it was hard for me to imagine anything but a girl.

Once I knew it was a boy, after I tried getting beyond the strange images of a penis growing inside me, I thought about the positives. With a girl, I’d be more likely to project my own experiences and my own development trajectory onto her. With a boy, since I didn’t have anything to go off of, I’d probably be more accepting. That would be a good thing because it meant I’d be less likely to be like my mother, less likely to encounter the years of adolescent fighting that characterized our relationship.

Since River appeared, we have bonded marvelously. I am head over heels in love with him. He seems to like me quite a bit, lately even preferring me to dad. I’ve started to understand the Russian women who coddle their sons to the point where these men expect the same from their wives. I’ve started to understand the overbearing mothers-in-law. I hope not to be like either, but I now empathize with where they are coming from.

Even though the adjustment has so far been easier than I expected, even though so far River and I have been able to communicate and more or less balance each others needs, I feel like there is still a lot I don’t understand about boys. So I picked up a book at the library called It’s a Boy – Understanding Your Son’s Development from Birth to Age 18.

It’s written by the psychologist Michael Thompson, the author of Raising Cain. The chapters are divided into age ranges: birth to 18 months, 18 months to three years, 3-4, 5-7, 11-13, 14-15 and 16-18. I don’t know whether or not I’ll make it through the whole book, since newer information might be available about teenagers 16 years from now. But I did read the part on birth to 18 months and a few months from now, I’ll return for the 18 months to three years section.

Probably the most useful fact I learned is the importance of early interactions with adults in determining the baby’s ability to attach and have good relationships with adults. Thompson says that 15 months is a safe marker. If a baby is well attached at that point, he is likely to relate to his parents and other adults in the same way at age six, and possibly throughout life. So far I’d say our attachment is pretty good. River’s needs are met quickly, he’s content and even-tempered. We feel lucky to have gotten a relatively easy baby and keep hoping he’ll keep this personality long-term. Only five more months to get an indication of what he will be like in the future. That’s exciting.

I also received reaffirmation of what I learned from the Buryats and what I intuited made sense. These people believe that no matter what you do, children are going to grow up anyway. They love and care for their children, but elders are higher in the order of respect and children are brought up to be obedient and respectful of their elders. Parents feel their job is to love their children, to help them, to be there for them (expecting assistance in return from their adult sons), but they don’t feel they can shape or mold their kids as so many Americans parents do.

This book confirmed both that parents do not mold their child’s development and that the fancy learning toys really don’t do anything that the world itself can’t do for a child.

Thompson tells readers they are not in charge of their son’s development. “Your son’s development will be his own to live, his to manage, his to determine,” he writes.

About the toys, he writes, “Every moment your son is awake he is learning as fast as he can and in the best possible way. He is doing it naturally, cultivating his intellectual curiosity and creativity through the joy of discovery. Your son is just as happy, and his neurons are just as happy, playing with a wooden spoon, shiny aluminum pie pans, colorful plastic bowls, or a clattering bundle of plastic measuring cups or spoons. Save your money – you’ll need it for pizza a few years from now.”

My husband has bought River three new toys – spending a total of $25-30. I’ve gotten him some things for free on freecycle, or cheap at garage sales, spending about $6 so far. I’ve visited friends’ homes who have spent more than our entire 10-month toy budget on a single toy. Yes, the $30 texture-rich ball my friend bought at FAO Schwartz was really cute. It did momentarily make us feel like deficient parents for not getting River anything that cool. It even made us want one for him. But I don’t believe that her son will be any smarter in the long run, or even appreciative of that purchase. It seems it’s more gratifying to the parents than it is helpful to the child.

We do have a couple of fun toys and I’m happy that River enjoys them. But I’m probably even happier when he is able to enjoy an autumn leaf with the intensity he does or to point repeatedly at certain objects that catch his attention or find joy in pushing a plastic doorknob cover across the floor.

River is in charge of his exploration of the world right now. All I can do is set the stage for a safe and varied experience. It may change as he grows older and wants to assert himself more. But for now, I’m happy to allow him to be the master of his universe. The love he shows for me is plenty of reward for the help I give him along the way. In the meantime, I look forward to see how this boy develops over the life cycle.

Does this information ring true to parents of boy? Any tips on what boys need from parents that is different from girls?

Babies and the Elderly

The other day, while approaching an airline check-in counter, the attendant smiled upon seeing River attached to my back.

“Why is it that when they are babies we think being toothless and hairless and helpless is cute, but we look at those differently when people are old?” she asked, bringing up a subject I’d been thinking about myself.

“I don’t know. Perhaps we need to change our perspective,” I said.

I think one reason people are more accepting of helplessness in babies than in the elderly is that with babies, the situation only gets better. Every day they learn and develop and pick up more and more skills and abilities along the way. There is also a pretty clear timeline. People can more or less expect that by a certain age, most babies will possess certain skills.

Whereas in the elderly, it goes in the opposite direction, with people losing capabilities with time and caregivers not knowing how long the decline will take.

Seeing River’s helplessness has made me remember that life is a continuum, that everyone will move up on the learning curve, stay steady, and then trend downwards. Of course everyone would like to maintain their abilities. But I don’t think we should look upon a lack of teeth, trouble eating, communicating, urinating or defecating among the elderly as gross things. But rather, a chance to provide that person with the care they probably bestowed on others during their lifetime. A chance to respect them for who they are and to help them to move through the last phase of life with dignity rather than embarrassment.