He shoots, he scores!

For his birthday, we got Jackson a basketball hoop that we keep on the porch. It's quite a bit taller than he is and we knew it would take him awhile to figure this out, but there was no doubt he'd outgrow the other option in just a few months. (He outgrows pants often enough that I wasn't going to buy toys with a short shelf life.) And these days, this kid is always asking to go outside and, "sshheewwwt!"

His first attempts were unpredictable at best, but now that he's getting the hang of it, he takes this very seriously. He'll stand in place, bend his knees (hilarious), and concentrate so hard the ball starts shaking in his hands. I'm proud of his determination and clear desire to succeed, yet slightly worried that he's going to be his own worst critic...just like his mother.

One day last week Jackson's daycare was closed for staff development, so Chad stayed home with him. And on a rainy, cold February afternoon, this is what they were doing.

 

This way, that way

There are many things you do as a parent in the hopes of fun and creativity that come back to bite you in the rear when you least expect it.

Last Monday, a bunch of ice led to delayed federal government and daycare openings. And since Chad's sports car doesn't do anything on ice but slide around, we all carpooled to work together. Jackson's daycare didn't open until 11 and I had to be at the office for a meeting at 10:30. So Chad, wearing his creative parenting hat, decided to kill the half-hour in between by driving around the city and letting Jackson choose the direction in which they went. They had a jolly old time, and he thought it was hilarious.

Fast-forward to Tuesday. I picked Jackson up from school and he was ready to tell me how to get home. (Keep in mind he does know most of how to get places, and if you ever divert from that due to traffic or whatever else he'll start opining from the back seat: "Wrong way! Wrong way!")

In typical toddler fashion, Jackson wanted to take me on a joy ride when all I really wanted to do was get home from work. I swear he'd been planning this all day. And when I didn't oblige...here came the exasperation. The drama. The t-e-a-r-s! For the entire 45-minute drive home (because traffic is always particularly bad on the evenings your child decides to have a meltdown), Jackson was pointing and yelling, "Other way! Other waaay! I want other way!!!" ... except for the very rare occurrence when we were going to turn in the direction he was expecting.

I do love my child, but I could not get him to bed fast enough that night.

Fast forward to later that week, when I went out to lunch with a potential business partner. She mentioned that she had an 18-year-old son, and in the next breath talked about an upcoming vacation. I asked if she was bringing her son with her to the Caribbean. "No," she says. "He lives with his father. I don't see him. Sometimes he sends me a text."

I squinted my eyes and wrinkled my nose, which is what I always do when I'm trying to figure out if people are joking. She wasn't. I went on to hear about how there comes a time when your kids just don't want to spend time with you and that it comes faster than you think. Then I start thinking about how I could never in a million years imagine what I'd do if this happened to me. I might very well turn into a stalker.

After that uplifting conversation I counted the minutes until I went straight to daycare, and said a little "thank-you-and-I'm-sorry" prayer to the Man Upstairs when, at the sight of me, Jackson literally dropped everything he was doing and started jumping up and down with his daily exclamation of, "That's MY mama!" I was the highlight of his day, and he was mine.

I gave him an extra-long hug. And let him stay up late, too.

Stomp, stomp, stomp

I'm just not even going to apologize for the delay in these posts. And I'm not going to try to catch up on the last five months of happenings because there was WAY too much and that's the reason for the delay in the first place. So let's just pretend that didn't happen, ok? Ok.

Last weekend we took a very much needed trip to the Shenandoah and brought along a birthday gift Jackson got from his Uncle Evan: a stomp rocket. Now this is a gift that I never would have thought to buy anyone, but this just goes to show that only boys know boys. As you can tell, Jackson had a blast.

 

It's raining...

We've been getting some nice rain out here, which is a welcome relief to the parched yards and dying flowers. (Parched yards and dying flowers are no strangers to our family in the Midwest, either.) Last Sunday we got a really nice rainstorm right after Jackson got up from his nap - which is the reason for the lack of pants. But he sure was excited to watch it rain! And he sure wanted one of us to take him out to play in it.

Dance, Dance, Dance

There are some days my spirited child just exhausts the hell out of me. There are many other days that this energy and enthusiasm gives me a boost that I need to bring a smile to my face when I get frustrated or makes me push the gas pedal a little harder when I'm heading to daycare in the afternoons.

When we were back in Illinois over July 4, Jackson demonstrated his love for the King by busting a move every time my mom would turn on her Elvis tunes. (Further proof that this child is a Shragal through and through - that side of the family has had Elvis jokes going back 25 years.)

And ever since then, Jackson will walk up to a radio or an iPhone, proclaim "DANCE!" and put his hands into fists then wait for the music. Sometimes when there is no music, he'll just sway side to side singing, "Dance, Dance, Dance..." in the hopes that he can carry himself through with the thoughts in his head.

Let me preface, I have no idea where these moves come from - the spinning, the gestures, the rhythm...no idea. But, oh man, this little dude makes me laugh. As one of my good friends said, "Save that one for the wedding video."

Chatterbox

Does anybody out there know how to talk toddler? Because this seems very important.

Rat race

The weather this past weekend was perfect, and we were looking for things to do outside. Since it's free to get into the National Zoo, we headed over one morning to spend a few hours looking at the animals before lunch and naptime.

Jackson loved the small mammal house, and he was absolutely enthralled with the monkeys, prairie dogs, porcupines and ferrets. (It was hard to tell whether the shrieking was coming from him or from the mammals in the exhibit.) His favorite were the muskrats - one in particular who he raced back and forth with for several minutes. Though it was only 10 a.m., they both seemed to wear each other out fairly quickly. I thought to record this after about five minutes of the back-and-forth, but you should get the drift.

 

Hello, goodbye

For a few months now, Jackson has mastered a few basic words - notably "ball" and "more," in that order.

But lately, he's been Mr. Polite whenever we see the neighbors, leave daycare or chat with a waiter at a restaurant. And usually it's an emphatic, "BYE!" followed by a wave that goes from one shoulder to another along with a few blown kisses and another "BYE!" for good measure.



Between being raised by Midwest parents and spending hours with Hispanic women at daycare, we're not sure where the Southern drawl comes from. But we think it's charming nonetheless.

Like father, like son

Let's not get in to how or why Chad is playing football again, despite the fact that's how he blew out two knees. He is.

On Sunday night, Jackson and I had a few moments to spare before bedtime and went down to the football game at Jackson's future high school.

Those of you who know this kid know that he doesn't sit still for anything so I was bracing myself for the equivalent of a track meet to catch up with him. But God love him, this kid loves football.

To prevent future injuries, which came during the quick start-and-stop of the receivers, Chad was on the line - meaning that he needed to know how to snap and play center. Jackson was absolutely riveted by this concept, and stood on the field mesmerized as all the players ran around him to practice.

The best part: as the guys all moved their practice further down the field, Jackson was clearly trying to figure out what his dad was doing - and then figure out how to do it himself. The next picture I took looked like this.

On the way out of the stadium at halftime, we got stopped by a woman who was running the track. She asked which league was playing and how her husband could get involved. "I'm looking for something for him to play where he isn't going to get hurt," she said. For her husband's sake, I kept my mouth shut.

Bite me

When Jackson moved up to the toddler room at daycare, we got a note about what to expect with the new schedule, what his days would look like, and a little about new behaviors he might encounter.

Please know that biting and hitting and scratching are more common with this age group because the children are not verbal, meaning they cannot use words to let another child know “don’t take that”, “that is mine”, “I don’t like that”, etc.

I was so sad, the idea of my little buddy getting hurt by a bully while I was oblivious at work. I didn't want to think about him growing up and having to deal with fending off kids who didn't want to share or play nice. I think I'd just rather he stay little forever.

My fears were confirmed earlier this week, though not in the way I anticipated. On Monday, I walked in at 4:30 to pick up my sweet boy. One of the teachers walked up with not one but two incident reports. First one was pretty standard: Jackson was running and tripped over his shoes and got a fat lip. It happens. Second one was a bit more unexpected:

What?!? Seriously? It was only Monday and I had already been unofficially given the Worst Parent of the Week award at daycare. Where the heck did this come from? Jackson has never bit us when he's been mad or upset. So they were going to talk with him about "no biting," said it was a phase, and we put it behind us. Maybe it was because another kid accidentally pushed him. Jackson wasn't the bully; he was just defending himself!

This theory lasted until Tuesday, when I got this:

And this:

Crap. One day shy of his 17-month birthday and I get called in for an emergency parent/teacher conference. I was so upset about this last night I was almost physically sick. (Fortunately, I've got a good friend who had a biter, and she knew just what to say to make me feel less bad.)

While I was getting him ready this morning, we had several conversations that went something like this, "Jackson, look. There's a shark on your shirt. And the shark has teeth. But the shark does not bite his friends." And, "Jackson, today you're going to go to school and you're going to play outside and eat lunch and take a nap but you are not going to bite the other kids. We do not bite." In one ear and out the other. I might as well have been telling him that he was going to an all-you-can-eat pasta buffet for dinner.

So then Chad and I trotted off bright and early for a little appointment in the principal's office. The best news of the day, they didn't kick him out. Didn't even threaten to. We actually had a fairly productive conversation about what could be causing this and what we can do at home to help the teachers, especially since he has never done anything like this with us. (And we did hear one comment that is consistent in every single meeting we have ever had with doctors, nurses, teachers...which went something like this: "Jackson is a very active boy. He has a LOT of energy.")

Then we left. And I waited. And waited. And waited for the end of the day. If I walked in to another incident report I was going to lose my mind.

I walked in and the head teacher did not go straight to the clipboard. Good sign. "Jackson had a very good day today." Halleluiah. My prayers worked. Or maybe that conversation this morning did the trick. Whatever or whoever is to thank for this, I'm grateful.

Here's hoping this phase was only two days long because I can't handle this scarlet letter much longer.

Mr. Personality

Jackson has parent-teacher conferences at daycare. Chad thinks these are ridiculous ("Congratulations, your child is walking..." he says when I ask if he wants to attend another one), but I find them mildly helpful. Why? Because I can ask his teachers things I wouldn't bring up to a doctor that are burning a hole in my mind.

At our semi-annual conference this go-around, I heard all about how Jackson can turn pages of a book (yep), help take off his own shirt and pants (check), and understand a few words (uh-huh). He's doing absolutely everything a 16-month-old should be doing.

But here's what I was really wondering from a woman who spends her entire day with kids his age. Did Jackson have more of a temper than other children? Was he more demanding and feisty?

When I asked the question, there was a pause. Pausing during parent-teacher conferences means that the teacher is thinking about how to respond. And that's never a good sign. The teachers there are always direct and no-nonsense. Oh dear Lord...what was I going to hear?

After a moment, Miss Patti, who I just absolutely love and who treats Jackson like he is her own son, starts to speak very slowly, as if she's choosing her words carefully. Then she says the kindest thing I've ever heard:

"I think...well...I think maybe Jackson is just very smart. He was telling us when he was really young what he wants."

And then this sweet, mild-mannered Hispanic woman closes her eyes, points across the room, and replicates his I-want-this-right-now chant:

MAMAMAMAMAMA!

Yep, that's my boy.

This is a child with a very strong opinion, and I have no doubt that someday this assertiveness will be one of my favorite characteristics. It's bound to get him into trouble but I like to think that if we raise him the right way, this personality will help him make really good choices, too. Until that day, oy vey, it's exhausting. But in the moments lately where he has tested my patience, I think of Miss Patti's perspective, and it makes me smile.

He's not cantankerous, he's smart.

Bless you, dear woman, for giving me another viewpoint. Even if you only said it because you thought it would get me through the crazy days, thank you. You are worth every penny.

Totally tubular

Apparently nine ear infections in as many months is a sign that it's time for tubes. So a few weeks ago, we went to an ENT who confirmed that was our best course of action. In between scheduling the surgery and our "go" date, Jackson got another ear infection, which I took as a sign that we were making the right decision.

The surgery was this morning at 8 a.m. and we were back in recovery with him at 8:20. It took Jackson awhile to get back into sorts after the anesthesia but after a long morning nap he was back to his old self.

Since it was a beautiful day, we got to play outside a little this afternoon - and Jackson got to play with his Easter gift from his Grandma and Grandpa Davis. The little mower blows bubbles but I hadn't refilled it, though Jackson sure didn't care. When they say kids bounce back fast after surgery, they're not kidding!

We've got spirit, yes we do...

I'm reading a great book called The Happiest Toddler on the Block, a sequel to The Happiest Baby on the Block, which I buy for absolutely every expecting mom I know. The jury is still out on the toddler version, though if Dr. Karp can prevent meltdowns the way he claims then he's been worth every second of time I've spent reading.

In Chapter Two - and that's only as far as I've gotten so we haven't cured meltdowns yet - Karp talks about how children fall into three temperaments. Most are "easy," a few are "shy," and then a small portion are what he calls "spirited."

Parents usually know they have a spirited child because they're the 'more' kids. More active. More impatient. More impulsive. More defiant. More intense. More sensitive. More rigid. The No. 1 recommendation to parents with this toddler personality type: Keep them active. Get them outside to play -- a lot. These kids need to burn off their energy and work through their moods, experts say. They also need firm structure to keep them safe and stable -- and lots of patience.

Jackson sure sounds like a spirited sort, but since he's our first I can't be sure. Maybe all kids are like this, I thought. Dr. Karp suggests a test to determine your child's temperament:

Go to an uncrowded place, release your child's hand, and pretend to turn your back for two seconds. (Keep a close watch out of the corner of your eye.) What does she do? Stand there? (Easy.) Grab your coat and cry? (Shy.) Run away without looking back? (Spirited.) The answer will give you a pretty good reading of your child’s temperament.

Here are the pictures we took yesterday at the Cherry Blossom Festival after we let Jackson out of his stroller. Sense a pattern here?

Then they do

Ok, I admit it. I am not a "stop and smell the roses" kind of person. I try. And for a few fleeting moments every now and then I do stop to take a quick break to soak in absolutely everything that's amazing with my life. But for the most part, it's run run run.

On the weekends, I wish for 15 more minutes of sleep when Jackson wakes up. Then it's time for breakfast. Then constant entertainment until lunchtime. Then lunch. Then he naps, and I scurry around to get dishes, vacuuming, laundry, yard work, and anything else done during those sacred two hours. (Who are these people who read books during nap time and why am I not organized enough to ever be able to do that?!?)

Yesterday, while I was hustling around during Jackson's midday snooze, I straightened up our room, folded two loads of laundry, made and ate lunch, cleaned up the kitchen, washed the dishes, and then decided to get a head start on dinner while Chad was out working in the yard.

I threw some music on and was buzzing around with a sort of efficiency that only belongs to the parent of a toddler. I was halfway through a song before I stopped to listen to it.

Now you've got time that's all your own, you've been waiting for so long for this day to come...Then they do. 

Ah, Trace Adkins. I hadn't listened to this song since before Jackson was born. A song about a parent who is constantly wishing for their kids to grow up...and it happens in the blink of an eye.

Oh crap, I realized. Someday - probably someday really really soon - I'm going to realize that my little guy is totally self-sufficient and I'd give absolutely anything to have some of these days back.

Secretly, I sometimes wish for teenagers. Or grown-up kids. At this rate, I'd even take the elementary school ones I could toss outside on a nice day with a "don't come in 'til dinnertime" charge. I would give anything to sleep in, or read a magazine while my kids played, or get any iota of housework done without one eye constantly planted on my child who has no fear of anything. Parenting something this mobile is completely exhausting.

But on the flip side, someday I know the ear-to-ear grin I get just for walking in a room will disappear. And little things like riding in a wagon or singing the "Itsy Bitsy Spider" won't elicit shrieks of excitement. Instead, someday - probably sooner than I'd like - I'll get a hurried wave out the door and maybe an obligatory hug before heading out for an afternoon of who-knows-what. I'll have time then to cook dinner and read books and nap. I'll have time for me.

I'm sure I'll love that life, too. But I'm sure I'll look back at these unpredictable, crazy days fondly, and wish for them every now and then. So during these times when it feels like we're on a treadmill from 8 a.m. until 8 p.m., I tuck a few special moments away in my memory for those days I'll actually be able to sit and think about the way it used to be.

I just hope I don't lose my mind between now and then.

Three is a crowd

A friend of mine with two kids (2 & 5) was looking for a babysitter in a pinch, as she and her husband had conflicting responsibilities after work.

Could I watch the girls on Tuesday night from 6-9, she asked? She'd drop them off and pick them up. I offered to feed them dinner - and she actually took me up on it (eiks). While I was putting on a confident front, I was a little skeptical. All day, I psyched myself up for this. I mentally prepared for meltdowns, accidents, separation anxiety, food fits, and everything else under the sun.

Around 6:45, Chad called to say he was leaving work. I was just sitting them all down for dinner - one was in a high chair, one taste-testing the milk (skim vs. whole) and another was carefully selecting which dining room chair to sit in. "You ready for three kids?" he joked.

I'm fairly certain he didn't like my answer.

It was a breeze. Three hours passed faster than they have in ages. All the kids played together, ate with no complaints, Jackson took a bath and the other two watched a movie until their mom picked them up. It was actually fun. (Did I just say that?)

Don't count me in for another bambino anytime soon - and I'm under no false assumptions it would always be that way - but in a fleeting moment I actually considered that three might be better than one. If I could only fast-forward through the first rough months, you might actually sell me on it.

Weekend update

This is embarrassing. I haven't updated this blog for almost three months. (This is what happens when an active toddler and a crazy job collide.)

And this is also embarrassing.

Jackson goes to daycare every morning looking cute and crisp. On the days we have somewhere important to be (ie: the doctor) or I actually take a video of him (as was the case here), Jackson will soak through or dirty the clothes he's taken in and be redressed in something too tight and too short.

So while you watch his latest accomplishment, and his pride over the ability to move the little balls from here to there, please keep in mind that he doesn't walk around with skin-tight clothes as often as this may imply.

I'm going home

Earlier this month, we went back to Illinois. (Rachel and Connor went with us. Two moms and two babies on a flight means that most people got out of our way - and prayed they weren't seated next to us.)

True to form, I took almost zero pictures. Actually, I took about 11. But these are my two favorites...

Playing with his first tractor

Learning how to play the piano

Step by step

Janice and Nick came by to give Jackson their Christmas gifts, and he thanked them by showing off his latest trick.

Literally, I have no idea how this happened. A week ago he was taking one or two steps at a time and this week he's tooling around so fast it's like he's been doing this for months. Slow down, child!

A 2011 recap

It's Christmastime. It's Jackson's birthday. We're all sick. NRF just upgraded its holiday forecast. The Senate just went down to the wire on some, well...important thing that Chad was working on. We still haven't unpacked our artwork. We leave for Illinois in four days.

The last thing I have time to do is print and cut and stuff a bunch of little pieces of paper into our Christmas cards. At a certain point, in the interest of actually mailing your Christmas cards before December 25, you say forget about it.

But since the letter was already written, and since I did put our blog address on the back of the Christmas card, I figured I'd paste it here in case anyone in this entire world cares what it said. 

------

Hi to our family and friends:                                           December 2011

Happy holidays and Merry Christmas! After taking a hiatus on our annual letter last year (did you really need an update, other than the fact that we had a baby?), we’re happy to share the contents of this year – what we remember of it, anyway:

Ellen returned to work at the beginning of April after a long maternity leave (note: long, not relaxing) and shifted her hours so she can leave the office at 3:00 to spend some time every day with Jackson before he goes to bed. She’s still at the National Retail Federation in public relations, analyzing consumer trends, talking about the importance of retail to the economy, and encouraging people to shop.

In the event that you’ve heard of a little thing called the “housing crisis,” Chad is right in the middle of it. Several years ago, when he moved to the Senate Banking Committee to take over housing issues, no one imagined his position would become as crucial as it is today. He’s had an incredible year steering public policy and really loves going to work every day. A good thing, because he’s rarely home before 8 p.m.

We’re still in denial that Jackson turned one on December 9. For better or worse, he seems to have the personality – and energy – of triplets. Jackson’s grandparents consider this appropriate payback for the rambunctiousness of both his parents when they were little. He loves the dog, crawling up stairs, and absolutely anything that makes noise. It’s been such a joy to watch him learn new things every day.

We were fortunate enough to make several trips back home this year so that Jackson could see his grandparents (and meet seven great-grandparents!). After a few earlier trips to the farm, we all headed home in August for Ellen’s brother’s wedding. It’s bittersweet that the final Tolley wedding is a thing of the past, but we were so thrilled that Daniel’s amazing wife said yes we were all able to look beyond that. And Chad’s parents were kind enough to watch Jackson for a few days while the two of us took off to Lake Tahoe for a long weekend (Ellen went for work, Chad called it vacation).

Our biggest news of the year came in the fall, when we moved into a new house. Chad, who has been looking at houses every day for the last several years, finally convinced Ellen that it was time to say goodbye to our perfect little townhouse for a single-family home – and Ellen relented when he found a house that met all of her “there’s-just-no-way-he-can-find-a-place-like-this” requirements. We love the neighborhood, our big backyard, and the number of children on our street (14 houses, 30 kids!). As we sit here writing the Christmas letter by a crackling fire – one of Ellen’s necessities – purchasing our old brick colonial seems like a great idea. Never mind that we still have nothing on our walls and a porch full of boxes.

In the midst of the move – and the holiday season… and a big hearing at work for Chad – Jackson decided he had moved too far off our radar and brought the attention back with a bout of pneumonia. Kids apparently have a way of reminding you why you exist in the first place. After a couple weeks of R&R, he was back to his normal self – and we started getting sleep again.

Lucy continues to keep us on our toes. Our daily walks have turned into weekly outings, but she’s so excited over the backyard she has almost forgiven us. (Please don’t ask why she didn’t make the Christmas card this year. Chad still isn’t over it.)

If you want to keep up with the general chaos that has become our lives, feel free to visit our blog at thedavisden.blogspot.com. Don’t get too excited because it isn’t updated as often as it used to be, though we do get the big stuff up – even if it’s late.

We wish you a very happy holiday season—and a wonderful New Year!

I'll have what he's having

When I was a kid, my mother told me that moms don't get sick. Must be their penance for taking care of snotty, puking, clingy, feverish children, I've thought all these years. I bet your body develops these amazing immunities during pregnancy so you're able to be a picture of health while taking care of others. It's very Florence Nightingale, if you think about it.

Ever since his birthday, our little guy has been in bad shape. What started as a cough - in true Jackson form - morphed into hacking, wheezing, a five-day fever, an ear infection, and RSV. After three doctor's appointments, five different medications, a chest x-ray, and a follow-up with a respiratory specialist next week, he's finally on the mend.

Here's what he looked like at his one-year doctor's appointment. The bright red cheeks and 101-degree fever weren't exactly a picture of health, so he did manage to get out of his shots that day.

With Jackson's latest plague, much like the others, I have wiped the runny noses, rocked him during the coughing fits, and am not the least bit fazed when this little person sneezes all over my face.

I am fearless. I am a mom. I don't get sick.

Until this week. It started on Monday with a little sniffle and a weird ringing in my ears. By Tuesday, my head was pounding. By Wednesday, I had lost my voice. And by Thursday, my boss was asking if I had bronchitis. As I told my sister, who asked how Jackson was, "If he feels half as bad as I do, he's pretty darned miserable."

When I confronted my mother about this complete and utter fabrication of the truth, she paused, smiled and said, "I didn't tell you that moms don't get sick. I said they don't have time to get sick."

She is right about that.