likes: fake coughing, waking up happy in the morning, trying to sit up, tooting, mommy and daddy, his thumb, baths, tatey time, silly faces, that weird sound mommy makes sometimes, the sound of his own voice.
dislikes: carseats for long durations, naptime (sometimes), waking up hungry, being alone, loud noises when he’s trying to sleep, being sleepy.
nicknames: fatman, fathead, sillyman, tateyman, tateymonster, crabbycakes, crabbypatties, tootoobrains, Remy, Remy-Lou, Remy-Lou-Who, Remy-Lou-Hullabaloo.
funnest day: every day.
Last year, the family of one of Jeremy’s students graciously allowed us to use one of their beach houses for a week, once school was out. This year, the invitation was extended again. We were staying during the same week as last time: the first week of June. This time around, though, we had added a family member; someone who was almost four month old…who had been born at a little over eight months gestation…which, er, makes twelve months. I’m sure you’re following me.
So Remy’s presence at the house this year was a great source of amusement and awe, joy and jokes for us. We did get a picture of all three of us in the room we stayed in last year. And then we giggled about it. Because we are adults.
Remy enjoyed his time at the beach. I hope one day we can go back to that house, when he’s old enough to understand the significance. If only because I can just imagine the face he’d make when we tell him.
Yeah, about like that!
I used to love working in church nurseries. I can recall being twelve years old, roaming the children’s wing at the Baptist church we attended, stopping to poke my head through the door of the infant room, toddler room, preschool room, asking if they needed an extra pair of hands. I was usually recruited in the toddler room, though, and more often than not it became my specific duty to watch after Trevor.
Trevor was a sensitive soul with a touch of separation anxiety. In other words, he had to be held. The entire time. So I held him. The entire one-and-a-half-hours of church service. My skinny little twelve-year-old arms carted him around the room, and sometimes up and down the halls, until his parents came to get him. And then my arms felt like wet noodles for the rest of the day.
When Remy was born, I was really worried of creating the “can’t-put-me-down” monster in my own child. I wasn’t sure how much was nurture and how much was nature, but I knew I at least wanted to be careful. So I made it a point of putting him down, on his own, at least as often as I was holding him.
I think I can safely say that I have, thus far, avoided the behavior I worried about. The only problem is that, now, I have seemed to have accomplished the opposite.
Remy is not a very snuggly baby. He is when he’s tired, but not when he’s too tired–then he just gets angry if you try and rock him. His favorite place is on the floor, all stretched out. Or on the changing table. But mostly the floor. Oh, he’s content to be in someone’s arms, mostly. But he really lights up once you set him down.
In the end, I have no regrets, though. He may prefer the floor to my arms, but he still wants me there to talk to him. 🙂
*this post is mostly tongue-in-cheek. If you ask my mom (or any family member) they will tell you that I wasn’t exactly a snuggly baby, myself.