Out With the Wash

Gabe has two new favorite activities: standing on the open dishwasher door, and standing on the door of our front-loading washing machine and watching the clothes go around and around.

He is particularly fond of the washing machine. He will watch, his compact body tense with anticipation as the machine fills with water, and then burst into applause when it begins to spin the clothes. Best of all, once the spinning is really going strong, he will dance to the washing machine's rhythm like it is some sort of ultra-cool percussive instrument.

When the machine moves on to the rinse cycle, he will look up at me with sad eyes and demand more. So our clothes go through a lot of spin cycles these days, is what I'm telling you.

I cannot find my favorite picture of him watching the washing, because I am seriously that level of disorganized these days, but here is a quick example of how the dishwasher is super fun:

Why do we even buy toys for toddlers? I mean, we had major home appliances in place long before Gabe was born! And it's not just the appliances that amuse him. He also likes emptying out my dresser drawers, reorganizing Matt's shoes, and crumpling up empty granola bar wrappers. No trip to the Juvenile Shop or the Target toy department necessary!

I never, ever realized a washing machine could be so fascinating. And never has my baby seemed more delicious and full of wonder than this afternoon when we sat and watched the clothes go around and around and applauded for the spin cycle.

From Lime to Full-Grown Cocker Spaniel

We have a framed picture of Gabe's twelve-week ultrasound that sits on our bookcase. Here, I'll show you:

The bottom of the two pictures is a shot of his miniature spine. If you look closely you can see it clearly; it looks like a tiny string of pearls. As amazing as that spine is, though, the top picture is the one that gets me every time. His little body is so perfectly formed at just twelve weeks old. I glanced at that framed picture this morning as we were playing in the living room and for a moment it took my breath away. I cannot believe my Gabe has gone from that bobbleheaded creature, so very tiny and growing in my body, to this big, strong almost-toddler wrecking havoc in my living room.


OK, admittedly he looks a little ridiculous here because his hair was spiked up for Crazy Hair Day at school last Wednesday. But all ridiculousness aside, it is simply amazing to me how fast a child can grow from little twelve-week-old fetus about the size of lime, to a seven-and-a-half pound newborn mewling in his mama's arms, to a twenty-pound one-year-old bruiser terrorizing the cats and demanding more graham crackers.

We had a great day today. We played at home, and we even had company - we watched Cousin Parker for an hour or so, which was excellent fun! Then we had lunch with friends and went to the park. We watched the ducks in the duck pond, played on the swings, rode on the seesaw, and played in the sand. It was perfect. I am so blessed.

Where are the teeth?

The first birthday was excellent. Gabe was a great sport - he tasted frosting, feigned interest in his gifts (although he really preferred the wrapping paper and empty boxes, of course), and smiled obligingly for photos. He even wore a ridiculous hat and played along as we blew out the candle on his cake. What a great baby. (Toddler. Sob!)

But I have to move on to a more pressing matter. (Literally.) WHERE ARE HIS TEETH?

Normally babies get their bottom two teeth first, followed by their top two teeth. Gabe's bottom two arrived a few months ago, pretty much right on schedule. The top two? Not so much. They refuse to appear. Oh, and he has decided that he's too cool to just get two measly top teeth at once. Instead, he has FOUR top teeth that have been trying to poke through for over a MONTH now. The gums are white, they are swollen, and yet the teeth refuse to break through. What is up with that? Seriously, biology, WTF? How is this a good system?

The teeth are painful-looking enough that even his pediatrician commented on them at his twelve-month (sob!) checkup yesterday. I believe her exact words were, "Yow. Those are no fun."

No fun indeed. They were definitely no fun at 1:47 a.m. last night, when Gabe decided the only logical thing to do was scream inconsolably for an hour and a half. Matt (trying for Husband Of The Year) got up with him first and rocked him for a half hour. Then I rocked him for a half hour. The Matt rocked him for ten minutes. Then I rocked him for another twenty minutes, and he finally went back to sleep. Goodness gracious. I forgot how rough that up-for-two-hours-in-the-middle-of-the-night thing is. Hard on the baby, hard on the mommy and daddy. I don't even have anything witty to say. I'm just kind of sleepy this evening as a result.

So anyhow, teeth, if you're listening, COME OUT ALREADY. Enough is enough. The kid is tired of gumming down bites of food, and he's definitely tired of being in pain. Plus mommy and daddy are lazy and want to sleep for seven consecutive hours tonight. Let's make it happen. (Then again, that toothless grin makes him look like he's still a baby. My precious little baby! Will never be a toddler! Never be a big kid! Never be a strapping teenager! Right?? Sob!)

ONE

Gabe's First Year from Erin Matzkin on Vimeo.

We love you, baby.

It's All About Me

I cannot resist pointing out that exactly 365 days ago, I was just beginning the 23-Hour Pitocin Carousel of Fun! That's right, on May 6, 2008 at 8:00 p.m. my labor and delivery nurse (the first of THREE I would have, I was there so freaking long) administered the first dose of Ineffective Contraction Juice. This dose would be increased in strength every fifteen minutes until I maxed out at about 4:00 p.m. the following afternoon; by then I was receiving DOUBLE the largest dose my doctor routinely uses. My second labor and delivery nurse (who will go down in history as one of the most awesome people I have ever met, just FYI) gave me a little hug and told me she couldn't up the dose any more, but that the doctor had agreed to let me labor for a few more hours on the current dose to see if I could make any additional progress.

At about 7:00 p.m. the doctor himself arrived and explained to me, in his kindest, gentlest, do-not-make-the-pregnant-woman-who-has-been-in-labor-for-more-than-two-full-days-cry voice, that despite the massive amount of pitocin coursing through my system my contractions were weakening, I was still only three centimeters dilated, the baby had had a few scary decels, and it was time to throw in the towel and get him out via Plan B (or Plan C, as it were. Ha ha). I agreed. Labor had been super fun and everything, but I was ready to meet my baby.

My baby. My sweet baby. He was born on May 7, 2008 at 9:07 p.m.

He turns one tomorrow.

At This Time Last Year...

...I was officially in labor. It had been confirmed by my OB via an examination and thirty minutes on the monitor in his office. I was oh so excited to meet my baby, an event which I believed was merely hours away!

Ha.

I was so unaware. So dumb, really. Little did I know the big event was still two and half days (and one false alarm at L&D, about a gallon of pitocin, one epidural [administered three hours after my initial request, FYI], and one c-section) away!

Good times!

Totally worth it, though. No question. No question at all.

I love you, Gabearoo.

Vanity

OK, OK, I have been totally lazy again and not posting. I could give you a lame explanation about how we've all been sick, plus I've been planning Gabe's first birthday party (!), plus I've been continuing to vacuum the house every morning in case any potential buyers want to stop by....but really it's just because I've been lazy. So as penance, I offer you a video of Gabe drumming on the little stainless steel trash can while admiring himself in the big stainless steel trash can. Because he is very vain. Luckily he is also very handsome so the vanity is warranted. More later, folks, I promise.