Wednesday, January 13, 2010

Koren: 19 Months

Dear Mischief Monkey,

You are 19 months old.  This was supposed to be your 18 month newsletter, but the time passed so quickly that I didn’t get around to writing it until now.  I guess that’s what you get for having your half-birthday in the month of December.

You have grown in so many ways over the last month.  You’re taller, heavier, and learning new things every day.

You have finally started talking and not a moment too soon.  You have a select repertoire of words that you use and it’s so nice to be able to communicate with you verbally.  The patches on my head where I have pulled out all my hair are finally getting the chance to fill in again.  Also keeping me sane is the fact that you now answer yes/no questions with head nods instead of blank stares and cries when I guess the wrong answer.

However, your favorite mode of conversation is still an incessant calling of someone’s name to get their attention without any sort of follow through.  Our car trips consist of this:

“Mama?"
“Yes, Koren?”
“Mama?”
“What is it, Koren?”
“Mama?”
“Koren.”
“Mama.”
“What?
“Mama?”
“What?”
“Mama!”
“What do you need, Koren?”
“Mama?”
“Koren?”
“Mama.”
“What?”
“Mama.”
“...”
“Mama!!”
“I hear you, Koren.”
“Mama?”
“What, Koren?”
“Mama?”
“WHAT????”
(whispering) “...Mama.”

Besides Mama, your vocabulary includes words like Daddo, Ana, Papa, Kakee (Kaelin), baby, doggy, kitty, book, bippy (sippy), milk, cheese, cookie, up, down, out, please, juice, turkey, hi, hello, bye-bye, and ta-da!, though many of these are lacking a few consonants when you pronounce them.  You have also gotten fluent in a variety of animal sounds.  You never call animals by name (other than doggies and kitties) but rather by the sound they make.  A cow is a MOO and a sheep is a BAAA.

You’re working on learning the “k” sound and words like milk and book, which were formerly “mo” and “bah” now end in long, exaggerated guttural sounds.  It sounds like you’re trying to hock a loogie, but it’s cute somehow.

Like your sister, you have also invented your own word for pacifier.  Whereas Kaelin called it a “bup,” you prefer the term “boppy.” You are quite attached to your boppy and I don’t foresee you being willing to give it up anytime soon.

You love eating, laughing, running, wrestling, jumping, cuddling after naps, animals, dancing, Dora, dolls, and all things pink.  I have a feeling that those last few are a result of having an older sister, but your father gets nervous each time you ignore the trucks in favor of pushing Baby Timmy around in the pink stroller.

You are completely enamored with your grandparents.  You walk around the house asking for Ana and Papa, and when you see Grandmommy or Grandpa, you almost hyperventilate if you can’t bear hug them RIGHT. THIS. SECOND.  But they don’t seem to mind.

We’ve had to start enforcing Time Out in your crib, because you are stubborn and mischievous and completely unresponsive to scolding or hand swats.  Your are NOT A FAN of the isolation routine, but it’s the only way we can keep you from pushing all the buttons on the DVD player.

Speaking of your mischief, which is never-ending…

You love to steal things and run.  You are, unfortunately, very good at this.  You love to stick things in your ear.  I don’t get the appeal of this, but to each his own.  Except the part where you need to STOP THAT.  “Mama, Koren’s got the scissors and he’s sticking them in his ear!” is a phrase I’d prefer not to hear again.

You also love to elicit certain reactions out of people.  This morning I made the mistake of yelping and dodging a strawberry that you offered to wipe on my clothes.  Giggling, you then proceeded to chase me around the kitchen with the strawberry.  This afternoon I squealed in surprise when you put your arm (which was very COLD after having just been outside) down the front of my shirt.  You thought that was HILARIOUS and took upon yourself the mission to reproduce that reaction as often as possible.

You are a total ham.  This afternoon, you would call Mama or Daddo, just to get our attention so you could giggle your silly little tilted-head “I’m a ham” snicker-giggle - which is hard to explain in writing but maybe I can catch it on film sometime.

You love books.  Love them.  You often bring me a book and we read 1 or 2 pages, then you shut the book and say “Bye-bye!” and then jump down to grab another book.  Wash, rinse, repeat.  You especially love books that have sliders and flaps and doors and triggers, and you’re attention span for those types activities far exceeds my own.

You have been banned from the cribs at Mother’s Day Out because you jump in them instead of sleeping.  I have been informed that we need to purchase a nap mat for you. 

I did get you a trampoline with a handlebar for Christmas and it remains to date one of the best purchases I’ve ever made for you.  You love to jump to Laurie Berkner Band music videos and any other music that comes on TV.

You remain a superb hugger and a pretty affectionate little guy.  Sometimes I’ll just be standing there and you come over and wrap your arms around my legs for a few seconds before continuing on your way with your busy schedule.  I love those moments.

I also love the fact that you’re reliably napping for 2-hour stretches these days and if you haven’t gotten enough sleep when you wake up, I can leave you in your crib and you’ll GO BACK TO SLEEP.  This trait is a novelty to me, and it’s pretty awesome.

All in all, kid, you’re active, curious, energetic, and we’re both exhausted by the end of the day.  But this stage between 1 and 2 is one of the best and your Daddo and I are enjoying every day of discovering your personality and nature as you discover the world around you.

Sleep good kiddo.  We both need it.

Love,
Mama

Saturday, September 12, 2009

Koren: 15 Months

Dear Little Mr.,

At 15 months, you are busy, adorable, impish, fun-loving, loud, curious, frustrating, insatiable, determined, affectionate, irresistible, messy, relentless, hungry, mischievous, and exhausting.

While I wouldn’t go so far as to say you’re “talking” yet, you do have a few words in your vocabulary (in no particular order of importance to you): Mama, Dada, Doggy, Kitty, Thank You, Baby, Turkey and Bacon.

Speaking of bacon, you’ve found your latest love in life.  You will drop any and all activity or forsake any mission at the mere mention of “bacon.”

Obviously, you are your father’s son.

Short of bacon, there is pretty much nothing that can deter you once you’ve set your sights on something.  Distraction is a futile effort.  Scolding just makes you laugh and then it becomes a game to see how quickly you can disobey and then hold out your hand to me for a “swat,” open-mouthed grin in place.

You are a poo.

Especially since you have the most contagious laugh known to man.  You’re lucky that you’re so cute - it has saved your life on several occasions.

You are getting better at following directions.  Since you’re not really talking yet, it’s more difficult for me to know exactly how much of what I’m saying is actually connecting in your head.  But now you can get in or out of your car seat on command (minus the buckling, of course), as well as “go find” things like your sippy or paci.  You are also quite familiar with the directions, “Stop turning on the TV,” “Put the dog food back,” and “GET OUT OF THE DISHWASHER.” But your favorite direction is when we ask you to give someone a hug.  You have always been an excellent hugger and it’s one of my favorite things about you.

Today I asked you why you were holding a piece of fuzz.  You looked at your hand with an expression that seemed to say, “Why AM I holding a piece of fuzz?” - and then you dropped it.

You are becoming very aware that certain things have certain places, and you like to put them there.  Sippy cups go in the dishwasher or the cup holder.  Dog food goes in the dog bowl, even if you’re the reason it’s currently on the floor.  Lincoln Logs go in the can.  Your baby monitor goes in its cradle on my night stand (after you have removed it and played with it for a while).

There are a few place associations we need to work on, however… Remote controls go on the table, not in your mouth.  Your shoes go in the closet, not in the bath tub.  Tissues remain in the box on the table, not scattered around the floor.  My oven mitt goes in the kitchen, not in the dining room window.

You still love getting caught.  If no one witnessed your moves, you run gleefully into the room, holding the evidence of your heist over your head in victory.  You wait until you’re sure we’ve noticed your stealthy accomplishment, then run away to evade capture.

A few weeks ago, we watched Marry Poppins.  You fell in love with the scene of the chimney sweepers dancing on the roof tops, and started trying to mimic their moves.  You now “dance” to music or when you’re particularly happy about something.  Like Bacon.

You’re in the Mother’s Day Out program at church and even though I think you end up having fun throughout the day, you’ve started crying when I drop you off.  It makes me sad because you never did this last year, but I think it has more to do with your age than the circumstances.  I’m hopeful that once you get used to the routine and teachers that we’ll see less tears. 

You’re finally down to one nap per day, a schedule that is much easier to plan around.  While making this transition, there were a few weeks when you would sleep from 8pm to 6am, and then only nap for 1 hour and 15 minutes during the day.  This was obviously not enough sleep for you, because you would wake up grumpier than a pit bull with an ulcer. During this time, I thought I might just lose my mind.  Lately, however, you’ve been sleeping until almost 7am and if I fill your morning with activities, you’ll sleep about 2 hours in the afternoon.

Little Man, you’re tackling life with a degree of gusto that makes us all stand in awe of your energy.  Staying one step ahead of you is becoming increasingly challenging.  But I can’t help looking forward to my next drive-by hug.

Love,
Mama

Sunday, June 14, 2009

Koren: 12 Months

Dear Mr. Busy,

While there are a lot of things I could say to sum up the little man you have become during your first year, I think your Papa put it best during your recent visit to Seattle:  “Your son is perfect, and relentless, and hungry.”

It’s true.  You wake up in the morning happy and ready to destroy (after putting away a breakfast that could feed a team of construction workers, of course).  You are so BUSY.

You still have no interest in talking whatsoever and we have yet to get you to voice anything besides the ever-constant “Dada Dada” ... but fortunately you have eased up on the nazgul shrieking somewhat.

You are now quite good at walking.  I think you had an epiphany this last week in which you realized that walking really IS faster than crawling, and you have refused to go back to crawling ever since.  You zoom around the house chasing Kaelin, or Kitty or anything you see out of the corner of your eye that might fit in your mouth.

Unfortunately, you also have a penchant for running away and/or finding things you should not be messing with.  My day is a continual cycle of retrieving you from the dog food, the toilets, the dishwasher, the stairs, and any open doorway that serves as an exit.  You are relentless and the number of times you have been thwarted never prevents you from trying again 2 seconds later.

When we went for your photo session, I put you down long enough to sign my name on the credit slip.  By the time I caught up with you, you were already out the door and down the hallway in the mall.  Today at church, I put you down and you immediately honed in on the exit doors, 100 feet away.  By the time I caught you, you were 10 feet from running outside.  Today at Grandmommy and Grandpa’s house, I must have pulled you off the stairs 50 times.

You are fearless, and succeed in giving me at least 3 heart attacks every day.  You have no qualms about jumping head-first off the bed, climbing up anything perilous, running toward an open oven, walking right off the edge of the pool, or any other maneuver that spells certain death.  If you live to see age 3, it will be a wonder.  If I live to see you turn 3, it will be a friggin’ miracle.

We’re trying an experiment, which you have taken to surprisingly well.  We’ve taken you off of dairy to see if it has any effect on your chronic cough and tear duct issues.  So far, we haven’t seen much improvement, but we’re giving it some more time.  Fortunately, you take goat milk in a bottle like a champ, and as long as we don’t eat string cheese in front of you, you seem to do fine without the dairy.  If the experiment isn’t effective, we have an appointment lined up in a couple of weeks for you to have your tear duct probed, which sounds horrific and I’m really not looking forward to it, particularly since I don’t think it will actually solve the problem if your tear duct is under-sized.

You’re a somewhat solemn kid, but you smile and giggle the most when doing something dangerous or naughty.  Your favorite game is when Dada throws you up in the air.  You smirk and run away when I catch you holding something you should not be getting into.  And chasing/wrestling with your sister sometimes brings on a total giggle fit.

Dear one, you are exhausting.  In a wonderful, fascinating and entertaining way. 

Just between you and me though, it’d be nice if JUST ONCE, I could unload the dishwasher without having to pull you out of it six times.

Love,
Mama

Tuesday, May 12, 2009

Koren: 11 Months

Could it be that I’m actually getting a newsletter out on the day my son turns a new month?  Surely not...something must be wrong.

Dear Koren,

It appears I’ve already run through the list of nicknames we have for you and have reached the end.  It took me 11 months, and with all those names, it’s a wonder that you actually know your real name.

You’ve reached a couple of major milestones this month, not the least of which is walking.  After months of “teasing” us, you are finally taking independent steps on your own.  You don’t have the process perfected yet, so crawling remains your primary mode of transportation, but you often intersperse your crawls with steps.  A surefire method of getting you to walk your best is to be without a camera to capture it with.  Nonetheless, I have managed to put a few glimpses on record of the progress you’ve made over the last few days…

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