Sometimes it seems like I never leave my house.  Especially on rainy days.  I play a game called "Where in the Hell Can I Take Declan".  Maybe it's because I live in Lawrence and, let's face it, we don't have all the variety in the world.  Maybe it's because Declan is in constant motion and places like Target aren't exactly a fun trip out.  Declan ends up squirming and demanding cookies: duck-dee.  Imagine this: I'm walking at an inappropriately quick pace (it helps Declan if he's still moving at his normal speed), shrieking giggles and loud thumps can be heard across the store from me (Declan enjoys throwing things out of the cart and thinks it's really funny when I bend down to pick them up), all followed by an almost constant beat of "duck-dee?"

Declan's "vocabulary" has really exploded.  Or I should say his attempt at vocabulary...because I know what he's saying, even if you don't.  Dada, for example, means both Daddy and Doggie.  Nuh means nose, no, and sometimes keys (hmm...one of these things is not like the other).  Vava means flower and water, but voo voo means poop even if my mom swears he calls poop baba.  Yaya means yes and blankie.  And, well, you get the picture.  He is absolutely itching to talk and tell me all of those things in his head.  Things like: "Mom, give me a cookie right now and I don't want that stupid vegetable, I said give me a cookie!"

Reminds me of a little cartoon and his cheesy poofs.  

Time After Time

In what used to be every week, but now seems to be sporadic postings, I highlight for my millions of readers (and by millions I mean five) what it's like for me to be a mom. I've been gifted with lots of ammunition for an entertaining read. Declan and his ever-reaching hands have assured that I'm never lacking in stories. And while I'm almost never clean, groomed, and fed, I'm always, always on my toes. And sometimes I just want a break. I just want to recline lavishly in a chair and have my feet rubbed.

I think every mom feels like that from time to time. What we don't always realize though, is that this baby that tears through the house and wipes graham cracker on my favorite skirt and throws whole bowls of applesauce on my new curtains is growing up.

And from last Tuesday on, everything new Declan does will take him further away from the baby that he was to his grandma Lauri. It was a sad day when we learned that Lauri had breast cancer, heartbreaking when we found out it had spread aggressively, and tragic when we saw her deteriorate at the end. But in the time between her diagnosis and her death, Lauri loved Declan with every ounce of strength she had. And like all precious, fleeting things, it is only in reflection that I can truly appreciate how much he meant to her.

And I'm so sad that he won't grow up basking in that love. We'll all recount it to him. We'll tell him how he gave her kiss after kiss on her last day and how she'd pick him up and hold him even when the cancer was reeking havoc on her bones. And how she didn't care if it hurt, it was worth it just to hold him. But it won't be the same as loving her in real time.

All she talked about when I was pregnant and in the first months of his life was having Grandma and Declan days. She wanted to take him to the zoo, spoil him with sweets, and spend her retirement watching him grow. And they'll both miss those great times.

There are many tragedies at work here, but since this blog is about Declan, I'll stick to this one. Looking through pictures of her, there was a special light in her eyes when she was with Declan. What a lucky kid! With all the possibilities out there, Dec was gifted not only with parents who love him, but grandparents who adore him.

So I'll try to do those things with him in her memory. And I'll make sure he sees her pictures and listens to the stories and knows that at her funeral so many people that I hadn't met knew all about Declan and how important he was in her last year. And I hope that somehow, somewhere when he grows up, he has a little bit of her with him.

To grandmother's house we go.

Some new things Declan's accomplished: eating his own yogurt, having great hair, and ridding the world of unneeded bibs.


Sometimes it seems that every one of my blogs starts like this: So, this week was a tough one.... And I will not disappoint. This week was indeed a tough one. Actually it's been the last two weeks.

Last week, D was having an afternoon tantrum extravaganza, so I took him upstairs and put him in his crib. At least, I'm 99.9% sure that's what happened because after he screamed for 10 minutes and I went up to check on him, he met me at the door. So I thought real hard about that .01% chance that maybe I just left him standing in the middle of the room. Nah, he escaped. 15 months old and he had his first jail break. Gotta give the kid credit. Turns out he was so traumatized that we gave him chocolate milk to soothe him a little. It was only later that we realized we rewarded him for his bad behavior. Grrrreat.

But that night he slept well and didn't escape in the morning. We chalked it up to a fluke and moved on. Last Saturday night, we had a wedding shower in Topeka, so we brought Declan up to Rich's parents. They were excited for their first bedtime babysit and had everything ready. They spoiled him with fast food and played with him until past his bedtime...all the things grandparents should do while babysitting.

At around 7:40, my begging and pleading paid off and Rich finally called his parents to check in. They said Declan had cried for about 15 minutes and then fallen asleep. We were beyond excited. We had been dreading this night and expecting Rich's parents to call at any moment to announce that Declan could not and would not go to sleep in an unfamiliar bed. We know our son well, so this was a complete surprise.

As the story goes (oh yes, there's more, but you knew that already, didn't you?), Rich's mom, Lauri went in to check on Declan about 15 minutes after we called. She tiptoed into the room expecting to see her grandson slumbering soundly but was met instead by an empty pack 'n play. Yep, no Declan. After a frantic call downstairs to Rich's dad, they searched the room. And they found him alright. Curled up in the corner with blankie. Behind a chair.

I've told you about blankie, right? Actually, I should write it with a capital B because he's Declan's best friend. Blankie and Scooter. And the nunnies that live in the garden.

There are two mysteries surrounding that night. 1. the pack 'n play was in a complete upright position and 2. how in the hell did Declan fall asleep after his jailbreak? This kid is notoriously picky about sleep conditions. He must have blankie, his crib, door closed, and night light in order to even consider sleep. And don't even think about skipping story time. If Dec doesn't have stories before bed, he will cry for 40 minutes. Guaranteed.

So how did this kid, after escaping the pack 'n play, decide to just curl up in a nice cozy corner to sleep? Rich and I laughed and laughed, but we've been on our toes ever since anticipating that night where he decides to Houdini us again. I'll keep you posted.

Oh, and I've got just one more thing. Today, Declan pointed to a Jayhawk and said Day-da. I'm counting it, people! One more word to the word bank. That is added to poo poo and water (va va) this week. Oh, and cookie. He said that one all through the store yesterday. Awesome.

Sober

Truth be told, Rich and I don't have a ton, outwardly, in common. I love Bravo and Rich watches Squidbillies. Enough said. What? You've never heard of Squidbillies? Then you must not be a squid or a hillbilly.

But, we both love to go out, and have been known to enjoy a drink or two. And, neither of us have many close friends with kids. In fact, we both have quite a few that aren't even married. So you can imagine that a weekend with our friends does not include trips to the zoo or afternoons in the park.

Rich's college friends were in town this weekend, and we had a ton of fun. In fact, I currently have a large bottle of Captain Morgan on my counter. It has a handle. Not that this would be even noteworthy in our pre-child existence, but now it's just so incongruous sitting next to sippy cups and bibs.

Needless to say, when Rich left for New Jersey this week, I was struggling. Not because I'd had too much to drink (I was, in fact, kinda lame) but because I didn't sleep while they were here. So, I was hoping for a nice, relaxing few days with Declan....

And you can all see where this is going, since you are aware that my son is a peach, not an apple. Thank you again for your wisdom, Kung Fu Panda.

So yesterday was just tough all around. It was raining, so no park. Declan was fussy every few minutes, so no relaxing. Then we went to the McDonald's play land. Not that there's anything wrong with it, but as a life long vegetarian, it's not usually on my list. So you know I was going to desperate measures, but what else do you do with a little road runner when he's fussy at home? And I love sweets, so we splurged and split a McFlurry. I mean, I should just end the story here, because all you really need to know is that McFlurry sent sugar surging through my little Speedy Gonzales. And you can imagine what happened next. There was lots of wiggling, pointing, stomping, and running. And by the time we went home, I was more than pooped. And it was only 3:30. Oh the irony.

After a few hours at home filled with teary demands, which mostly resulted in me carrying D around the house, it was finally time for bath. Yes! Declan can entertain himself in the bath and it means bedtime is right around the corner. I'm not ashamed to admit that I covet bedtime. It means I can actually do things like check my email and, you know, pee, without interruption. My reward for a long, trying day, is the few hours I get at night to do whatever I want...as long as I stay in the house. But that's another blog for another day. We're talking about the bath.

So Declan's having a great time. He's drinking from his bucket and coughing then laughing hysterically and doing it again. And I got him pretty much all done when he paused. And Declan does not pause. If anything he calms down to "play" from "fast forward", but pausing is relatively unknown in this house. I hear a little grunt, and...flurp! two brown buddies popped up to the surface.

I know this isn't incredibly uncommon, but for me it was instant panic. I scooped him out, searched for something to catch the poops in, and frantically grabbed at them. And while I was doing that, I was also holding Declan, throwing them into the toilet, preventing Declan from scooping them out again, and trying to keep poo off any unnecessary surfaces. I have never, ever truly multitasked until I was a mom. Hands down, I will put the skill I learned in that moment against anything I learned in college or in the "real world". I might try the whole one-man-band thing next.

Sink or Swim

This picture is the most accurate representation of Declan's existence. I call it "Fight Club Baby". His shirt is filthy because he won't wear a bib, he has two massive horns on his head from 1. running straight into the bed post and 2. doing a double axle off of his arts and crafts table. Next, we have his bruised legs from incessant climbing, falling, bumping, and climbing over the dog.

But he's not always moving. Declan has an animal book that he loves. He points at the pictures, and we tell him the names of the animals. Sometimes we spend a few minutes saying the same name over and over again. One of those animals is the bunny. So this morning when I saw a bunny in our front garden, I scooped Dec up and pointed until he said "nuh nuh", which is Declan for bunny. Glowing with pride, I inched open the door and we went out to look at the bunny closer. Declan, of course, couldn't stop pointing and saying "nuh nuh" so the bunny hopped away. We went inside and I thought we had a moment and could now go back to our day.

"Nuh nuh"

Declan was at the door. I told him that there were no more bunnies because it had hopped away. Undeterred, Declan spent the next ten minutes at that door nuh nuhing away. So I took him outside to show him that there were no more bunnies. Except there was one. So we watched it and it watched us and eventually Declan pointed and shouted and the bunny hopped away. And then Declan went looking for it. Under the bushes "nuh nuh". Back to the garden "nuh nuh". Pointing in the trees. You get the picture. It took me a quite a few minutes to coax him back into the house. And I was foolish enough to think that this bunny business was over. But, no. Cut to a half hour later. Declan's "nuh nuh" cries have escalated to a feverish pitch and his red little face is contorted and tears are rolling down his cheeks. He had a bunny meltdown.

As he lay in his crib to calm himself down (but really to get him away from me because I couldn't take it anymore), I realized that I had vastly underestimated my son's tantrum abilities. And love for bunnies.

So we've established that my son is no blushing flower by now, right? But until now, I hadn't properly considered this affecting my life expectancy. Because he almost gave me a heart attack this week. And then he shattered my ear drums. And you wonder why I can't get it together enough to blow dry my hair on a regular basis.

Now, I've always, always wanted to have a pool. I have infuriated my husband with concepts for our hypothetical pool for years. It's one of those things that I'm convinced if I had, would change my quality of life. That, and the ability to wear skinny jeans. Or, more accurately, the ability to look great in skinny jeans.

So Dec and I were at my friend Whitney's on Wednesday. She has a pool. And would look great in skinny jeans... But back to the story. We went outside and were playing with chalk when Declan took off running, and I don't mean kind of sauntering, I mean a full blown zoom, toward the pool. He must share my love of water. But instead of stopping at the edge, he just kept going. And this is where my heart attack occurred. Because even though Whitney has a safety net (literally) on the pool, Declan fell onto the net, which lowered into the pool and got him sopping wet as I screamed and lunged after him.

I pulled him up so fast that I can't even remember doing it. And what had been a mischievous little one in the moments before became a blubbering mess. And I didn't have any other emotional reaction but to laugh. As he clung to me with new found trepidation, I couldn't help but hope that he'd learned his lesson.

Next week we start tumbling lessons. Hopefully he won't run off the balance beam.

Bluffin' with my muffin

I know when I left the house my pants were clean. But when I got to the library to meet up with all the other moms, there were a pile of grass clippings, a few smeared in bites of snack, and some sort of gooey substance on them. Not to mention that on the way home I spilled coffee on my shirt. Not that it's a special shirt, but it's one of the only ones that is baggy enough to cover my muffin. I have an eternal muffin. Kind of like an eternal flame, but hotter.

I did see a girl I hadn't seen in awhile who told me I looked exactly the same. But she was drunk and it was dark. She probably thought it was a charity compliment. Like her good deed for the day. Or maybe it was the Spanx. And the alcohol. Definitely the alcohol.

My sister told me about a mom she sees at the playground sometimes. This woman, she said, always looks fantastic. Like great outfit, make up, hair, the works. But she leaves her kids in pajamas. And it totally makes sense to me. There's really only room for one of us to look cute. And Declan doesn't really care what he looks like. Maybe I should take this woman's approach. I'd certainly look better...to myself. I think I might be the only one enjoying my new glamour. I'm certain that if people will hand out parenting advice in a public restroom after seeing you for a split second, they wouldn't hesitate to let you know how black your soul is for focusing on yourself instead of your kid.

But if I don't blowdry my hair, I look like Mandy Patinkin from Princess Bride. "My name is Lana Corcoran, stop staring at my dirty outfit or prepare to die."



So now I'm taking my precious daily free time to ponder how I can get these coffee stains out and whether or not I should wear this stained outfit the rest of the day. On the plus side, if I leave it on, less laundry. On the minus, people might think we live in the woods. Choices.

Dippin Dots

Over the past few weeks, we've been on a ride.  One minute Declan's happy and giggly and the next he's throwing a tantrum and all his food on the ground.  We've fed him while holding him, while sitting with him, inside, outside, on a train, on a plane...you get the idea.  

In between tantrums, Declan has turned into quite the ham.  Recently, he's discovered dipping.  He takes his fork, spears whatever is on his plate, and dips it into a sauce (usually barbecue).  Such a little feat for us, but for Declan it defines his whole meal experience.  I know if I offer him something to dip, we'll have a good mealtime.  A few nights ago, Declan wanted to dip his bread in my tomato soup.  He loves this particular soup (Amy's Chunky), so I wasn't surprised.  Then dessert time came.  We gave him oranges, which are a new favorite, but he still wanted my soup.  And as soon as the spoon came up to his mouth, he smiled.  Not a "thanks, mommy" kind of smile, but a calculating, idea-forming smile.  And the orange went into the spoon.  Oranges and tomato soup?  I thought he'd screw up his face in that "this is nasty" look, but he happily chewed and then pointed to my soup for more.  Yes, he ate all of his oranges with tomato soup that day.  This is a kid that doesn't like mac and cheese,  and refuses pizza half the time, but this he adored.  

One of my favorite things about being a mom is watching Declan's personality emerge.  He is just the most mischievous thing.  And I can see his little brain coming up with new ways to explore, destroy, and maneuver everything.  I swear he scans a room, terminator style, and evaluates how fast he can tear it apart. 

A few weeks ago, Jess and Charlie came to visit, which is always so fun.  Declan adores Charlie, and I swear he soaks up everything Charlie does like a sponge.  In February, he tried to say no, no, no after seeing Charlie, and this time it was the front roll.  Charlie and Declan have the cute hambone thing in common.  And one of Char's best party tricks is a perfect front roll.  It always elicits a round of applause and while it looked like Declan was just standing by watching, it turns out he was learning how.  He's certainly not as agile as Charlie, and the downward dog turns into a side roll, but he expects applause all the same.  And he giggles.  He is immensely proud of himself.  He hopes to one day be just like Charlie.

And the thing I've been waiting for the most...Declan finally started dancing!  Tonight he kept picking the same song, looking to Rich and I and as soon as we started bopping to the music, Dec's legs started a Flashdance "Maniac" march and kept going until the music stopped.  I think Rich was more proud when he started dunking the basketball or playing t-ball, but this was my heart bursting moment.  In the end, I don't really care what Declan ends up loving, but I want him to grow up knowing that every option is open to him.  And it doesn't hurt that he seems to love music along with climbing and throwing and dunking.  

Traumatized by constant temper tantrums. Need wine. Will post soon.

Master Blaster

Have you ever had an epiphany? I'm usually too busy...but the other day, after Declan had thrown his fifth "I'm sick and I want to be held" fit of the day, I realized that we're Master Blaster. You know, the two-man killing machine in Mad Max Beyond the Thunderdome? There are two parts to Master Blaster: master the brains, aka Declan, and blaster the brawn, aka me. Master controlls blaster while sitting on his shoulders, and while our main focus is not controlling the general population, Declan does give a lot of demands while perched on me. I've known for awhile that he's not exactly sure we aren't one person, but with this epiphany I think I finally get it! I'm here to do his bidding and exist for no other cause.

But seriously, Declan's been sick and I don't know why, but this is making him extra, extra clingy. He's screamed all the way through several meals all while pointing and lunging toward me. It would break my heart if I wasn't so damn exhausted. The first few days, I endured and took him everywhere he needed. Now, I'm ready for it to be over. But I don't get to choose, so I'm predicting one stressful weekend.

Chardonnay take me away...

New Frontiers

In our excitement about Declan's new found ability to point on command, I started really emphasizing noses. I point to my nose and say the word long and slow and then point to his nose and do the same. And I was so excited when I saw him pointing his finger at his nose the other day. I silently patted myself on the back for being such a good teacher. After all, it was my profession for several years. But, as always, just when I start feeling overly proud, the world shows me that I'm not that great. Because Declan wasn't exactly pointing at his nose...

He was sticking his finger up it. And he's been doing it ever since. So far, there's no movement other than a firm planting of his index finger, but he'll figure it out soon enough. Then I'll have to worry about that finger going directly into his mouth, won't I?

Declan's totally into pointing, but he hasn't clapped yet. As parents, I think we're all worried about keeping up with milestones. Is nose picking a milestone? Is Declan advanced as I have believed all along? The next time I go to the doctor, I will definitely brag about Declan's advanced nose techniques. I think that's the best course of action, don't you? "No, doctor, Declan still doesn't clap, but he's got boogers down. And you know what? I think he gets it from me. I was an early nose picker."

Maybe I should get a video to show all my friends on Facebook. The caption will be "future prodigy".

You've got a point!

So I'm currently watching a Lifetime movie.  Yes, it's Saturday night.  And yes, I did say Lifetime.  Shit.  I chose a Lifetime movie out of all the options.  I even own a few DVDs and a Wii.  Is this the moment?  The one I'll look back on when I have mom hair and mom jeans?  The moment when I chose the Lifetime movie out of all the other options?  

But there's a reason I'm admitting this on the Internet and not just keeping it as my dirty little secret.  It turns out the main character's name is Declan.  And everyone but Faye Dunaway's character (yes, that Faye Dunaway) can figure out how to pronounce it correctly.  She keeps calling him deCLAN instead of DEClen, and it's driving me crazy.  Did I give my kid a name that people are going to mispronounce?  I love being Lana (Lawna), but I hate when people call me Layna or Lahna (rhymes with banana).  I hope Dec doesn't go through that yearly ritual in class where he's anticipating all the ways his teacher might butcher his perfectly wonderful name.  And while I understood people's inability to pronounce Guilfoyle, Corcoran is surprisingly difficult too.  And I have a friend who shall remain nameless who still spells my last name Cochran even though I've been married now for almost five years.

But this blog is really about Declan, and boy did we have a day today!  We're going through one of those leaps right now, and it's been so much fun.  In addition to throwing balls and a couple of new words like doggie and ducky (trust me, they are different), Declan has finally, finally started to like books!  He's still not interested in sitting down and listening to stories, but he's started bringing me and Rich books and pointing to pictures inside.  Tonight, he made me go through Brown Bear, Brown Bear five times.  I'm aware that in the future that might get annoying, but tonight, tonight it was lovely.  And it wasn't even the best part.  

As you all know, pointing revolutionized Declan's world.  A good point and grunt and Declan can communicate his wants and needs in a very efficient way, thank you very much.  And so we've spent a lot of time lately naming the things he points to.  Most of the time, I have no clue what he's actually identifying, so I improvise.  But sitting next to our kitchen table are three flower pots.  He's been pointing to them a lot, so today I decided to ask him to point at the flower.  Lo and behold, one chubby little finger stretched out right in the direction of the orchid. Not sure if it was really what I thought it was, I tried a few more times and sure enough, he was pointing to the flowers.  

Then we tried the light, then daddy and both times he pointed right to the place.  We were so incredibly thrilled.  Of course we tried "point to mommy" but Declan just looked at us.  I'm like his shadow.  I'm surprised he didn't just point to himself.  

But the coolest part was when Declan pointed to a flower and a doggie in a book and to the light in his room.  I can't believe I just wrote for 20 minutes about Declan pointing at the correct thing, but for us it's a complete revolution.  To me, this was just as amazing as Declan learning to ride a bike.  It's surprising how something so little can bring moments of such pure happiness.  God I'm cheesy.  First the Lifetime movie, now talk of pure happiness....  Next, I'll tell you about how home is where the heart is.  And the next thing you know, my blog will have a teddy bear border.  And when you see me, I'll be wearing a corduroy vest with a turtleneck underneath.

BTW, next week's Nora Roberts movie has Brittany Murphy and Smith Jared from Sex and the City.  Guess Faye Dunaway knew what she was doing.  And Jerry O'Connell as Declan Fitzgerald has some Emmy-worthy moments. Maybe Lifetime is cool!  Or maybe this is how they get you.  Gotta go, I think I need to go look at minivans online. 

p.s. Here is a direct quote from my husband as he comes into the room "what are you watching?  This movie sucks.  Is that Jason Donnelly?"  Am shaking with laughter.   

Big Bites

So Declan turned one on Wednesday.  And aside from all the emotional transitions we were absorbing, there were some physical ones too.  The phrase "biting off more than you can chew" comes to mind.  Because we're so adept at time management, Rich and I spent last week cramming to finish painting Declan's new room upstairs, which we didn't finish until Wednesday night.  And that was just the beginning.  We had a party to throw.  

Declan's party was at 2:00p.m. on Saturday and we worked right up until it started.  After moving all the nursery furniture upstairs, we then transformed three other rooms in the house.  We'll just say that as of Friday at noon, our main living room contained piles and piles of, well, crap and our basement was in disarray.  If it weren't for my friend Becky who spent an hour helping me move around the furniture in my living room, I think I may have had a mental breakdown.  This is when you know you have PMS, people.  Rich, he knew since Tuesday, but I passionately refuted his absurd ideas.  Needless to say, I added way more stress to my baby anniversary than was needed.

In all my whirlwind of house transformation madness I neglected to really prepare for the party.  So Friday night I was scrambling to make the food, punch, and, my first priority, the adult punch.  I wasn't sure if it was appropriate to have adult punch, but by then I really didn't care.  

Amazingly, everything came together and I don't think anyone really noticed the placement of my wing back chairs...

Declan, meanwhile, had his first case of people overload.  I could just see the inner dialogue.  With every new face at the door there was recognition, slight panic, and then relaxation once he spied Mommy or Daddy.  To be fair, Declan was really great.  I think it was all the sugar.  In addition to some seriously sugary punch, Declan loved his cake.  I really know when he loves something when he points and grunts.  And there was a lot of insistent grunting and pointing at the cake.  Success!

My friend Trisha put it best.  She said that a first birthday party is like your wedding.  It whirls by and you don't get a chance to talk to everyone as much as you want.  We had a blast though.

Leaps!

So I'm not sure if I've talked about it before, but the most useful book I've read since becoming a mom has been The Wonder Weeks.  I found it when I was looking online for help with a baby who wouldn't sleep, clung to me for dear life, and seemed unusually fussy for no reason.  It was what Oprah would call an "ah ha" moment for me.  But for me it wasn't a clarification of my soul, it was a guidebook for how to understand all those things that were driving me bat shit crazy!  I just felt so out of control, especially when all the books contradicted each other and, often, my own intuition.  

Then I found The Wonder Weeks.  God, I sound like a commercial.  But I don't care.  Here's the basic premise:  when kids go through fussy periods that seem to have no reason, they are usually on the verge of a mental breakthrough or "leap forward" as it's called in the book.  These Swedish researchers spent years working on case studies and found that during certain weeks of a child's first year (and I think the years of toddlerhood too), children reach certain mental developmental milestones.  Before the leaps forward, when kids are working on the new understanding, they get fussy and cranky and don't sleep.

And sure enough, after all the books that didn't really apply to Declan, I found one that was trustworthy.  I'm talking freaky accuracy.  Right when Declan would seem not himself and we were up late because he wouldn't sleep; right when we were taking out the Ibuprofen because it had to be teething, I'd take out that book and count out the weeks (sometimes that would take a considerable amount of time, especially after about 25 weeks), it would be right on.  

The best part about the book is that it outlined the mental leaps that take place after the fussy period and would give examples of some of the new skills that would emerge.  And every time Declan would start doing those exact things.  

It totally makes sense that this would be the book for me.  Brain science makes sense to me; way more than some authoritative-author-voice telling me I was making all the wrong decisions; way more than some super regimented Nazi routine; way more than letting my child using my boobs as comfort until he was 5.  This book did not guilt me or tell me what to do.  I hate being told what to do, it's like Marty McFly being called chicken.  It just sets off alarms.

But I've already bored you, haven't I?  And this blog isn't about the book.  It's about the new leaps forward, and the last of Declan's first year, that have been so fun this week.  His walking has totally improved.  He's been getting on his little car and slowly moving it around the room.  He's started to point everywhere and waves bye bye when he wants to leave a room.  He's throwing a ball back to me.  And he's finally gotten "all done" in sign language.  

I'm really looking forward to having a toddler.  Declan's been so darling lately.  To be honest, I wish I could have my second baby and fast forward to the time he/she is one.  I know that probably sounds cold, but we established when I started blogging that I'm only interested in the truth, not some hunky dory, pretty picture.  And the truth is that I love my little kid.  I love making him laugh and walking around with him.  I love that he interacts with his environment and understands me when I show him things.  It's just so much better than the infant stage.  Not that I wasn't totally in love with him and everything he did then, but it's just so much different now.  And at the end of this first year of motherhood I do feel I am finally getting the hang of it.  

But you know how I feel about confidence...right when you're feeling pretty proud of yourself, something new comes along to knock you back down to size.  But I think I'm ready this time. 

Yucky

I remember it from when I was a kid, and I was warned so many times that it would come. But it really doesn't sink in until you are stripping the crib, bumper and all, and you look in the closet and see the four outfits that your son has soiled in a half-day. Yep, we've got it. The Stomach Flu. Yuck.

Wait, let me correct myself, "we" don't have it. "They" have it. And by "they" I mean Declan, Rich, and now my mom. It seems this nasty virus clings to anyone and everyone it can. Except me. Poor me. No, really! I've got about seven more pounds to lose! Two good days of a stomach flu, and I'd be back at my pre-pregnancy weight! And I'd get to rest. Rich got a whole day and a half in bed. Oh, what I would do for a day and a half in bed!

It really makes you wonder when you envy someone up all night with every kind of thing spewing out of his body. What kind of warped reality am I in? I'll tell you. The kind that needs to lose some weight and get some sleep. These are two of the top things on my to do list. They are my priorities. This flu could really get me there. But no, of course I'm the only one not really affected. No chills, no fever, not even a stomach grumble. Poor me.

The weird thing about this flu is that Declan was in a good mood. He was bopping and exploring and causing mayhem the way he usually does, but just with a lot more dirty diapers. I changed eight total on Saturday. Rich, on the other hand, has just had the worst time. I don't want to embarrass him, so I won't give all the details, but let's just say he's not so keen on going anywhere out of the house right now. And, he even took a day off work. I had to put my foot down and practically pry the computer from his pale, clammy hands, but eventually he acquiesced.

The message here is...flu shots, are they worth it?

Obviously I'm kidding. Kinda. All I'm saying is that it would be nice to fit into those jeans again. Uh, oh, gotta go. My stomach's grumbling.