Why have I gone so long without writing one? Well, because nothing of note has happened in the last five months. Okay, that's a lie; pretty much everything has happened in the last five months. But work has been insanely busy. And I haven't been sleeping much. And raising a baby is time-consuming. And I've been taking a correspondence course, double majoring in Excuse Creation and Procrastination.
It's hard to know where to even begin. In order to better organize my thoughts, I'm going to be using bolded headers throughout this post.
The Words That Are Comin' Out of His Mouth
Oliver now has a vocabulary of roughly a half dozen words. Not enough to engage in an ontological argument, but enough to swear at someone in traffic. Okay, actually, the ones he has mastered (I use the term loosely) to this point include: Dada, Mama, Nonnie, Papa, banana, cheese, and no. So, theoretically, we could totally have the following exchange:
Me: Who are we going to see next week?
Oliver: Dada. Mama. Nonnie. Papa.
Me: Will Uncle Jamey be there?
Oliver: No.
Me: Are you sad about that?
Oliver: No.
Me: Why not?
Oliver: Cheese.
Me: I hear ya. He does lay it on pretty thick.
Oliver: Banana.
Me: Yes, he is also bananas.
Oliver: BANANA.
Me: Oh, you want a banana.
It's amazing to watch him hear a word, process it in that little brain of his, and then utter an approximation of that word (he does this with varying degrees of success). I expect his vocab to increase exponentially going forward; he is getting better and quicker at this thing every day. In no time at all, he should be enough of an expert mimic that I will be able to begin using him to assist in the making of prank phone calls.
He's also learning to communicate in other ways, like by pointing at something he wants, or throwing something he doesn't, or throwing a hissy-fit when he doesn't want to have his diaper changed or be buckled into his car seat. It feels really great to have opened up this dialogue.
Little Man Walking
Another area where Oliver is showing rapid improvement: walking. It was around his first birthday (more on that in a minute) that he first started taking a few shaky steps before crashing and burning. The bravery involved in learning to walk had never occurred to me before I was able to witness it happening first-hand. To pull yourself up and move just a couple of feet in one direction, knowing full well that you are going to finish by falling on your ass, often striking your head against a dresser or activity center or crib leg...takes an incredible amount of determination and fortitude. It probably also requires a certain degree of foolhardiness and forgetfulness, but whatever it is, he's got it in spades.
Of course, this is terrible news for the cats. They are now on 24/7 Godzilla watch. It's also bad news for our remote controls, which are now scattered like Easter eggs throughout our house, and for our books and magazines—at least the ones that are in grabbing-and-tearing range. Additionally, it's not the greatest news for any of our visitors, who now need to enter a 6-digit code and solve a series of riddles in order to gain access to our toilets.
The most recent addition to Oliver's bag of tricks? Climbing up on things. So...yay. Now he can fall from an even greater height. Am currently looking into getting quotes for memory foam flooring.
Another Year Older and Closer to Potty-Training
On June 1, guess who turned one? That's right...this blog! Also, Oliver.
We had over to our house a bunch of people, most of whom he didn't exactly know, and didn't seem eager to get to know. But many of them brought presents, which helped, and there was, of course, a smash cake, so he was able to get his first taste of pure sugar. We got him a Smash Mouth smash cake; it was just a cake with a photograph of the band on the surface, with the words, "Happy Birthday, Oliver" and "You're an All-Star." He may not have gotten the joke just yet, but I'm sure he'll have a hearty guffaw over it when I show him the pictures in like 15 years. And explain to him who Smash Mouth was.
School of Soft Knocks
Several months ago, we said sayonara to Oliver's nanny, and put him instead in a day care. It is definitely hard not having him here in the house for much of each day during the week, but everyone on staff is awesome and we feel quite confident about his safety and happiness there. He had a rough outing the first couple of weeks, however. It was right around that time that he began experiencing hardcore separation anxiety, which is flattering but awful. Each time Erin would drop him off in the morning, he would scream tearfully, with arms outstretched toward her, as if they were being separated at the Mexican border (timely, incendiary political reference alert). According to his teachers, things didn't get much better after she left. So yeah, he was putting in a good, solid six hours of crying for a while there. Heartbreaking, but sadly necessary. Stupid jobs. Stupid money.
I have the fun, easy job. I get to pick him up. He sees me, smiles broadly, says, "Dada!," my heart melts, and we go home.
Of course, ever since he started there, he has had a cold. We're actually not sure if it's been a continuous string of eight or nine colds, or one fiercely interminable one, but either way he is forever coughing, and there are always liquid boogers on tap. We sure hope people are right in saying that this will make for a heroic immune system that will keep him healthy for the rest of his life, but it sure as hell sucks now.
We're excited that he's being exposed to social situations as well, although it is a bummer that he has to come to terms with some of life's harsh realities at such a young age. Erin has spotted him twice being pushed to the floor by some asshole named Emmitt, whose name I hope I spelled wrong, although Oliver didn't seem to mind overly much. But my son isn't wholly innocent either. Apparently, some new girl started in his class, and within the first five seconds of meeting her, he introduced himself by shoving a couple of his fingers into her mouth. I knew it was a mistake to let him watch the Kavanaugh hearings.
Oliver's Travels
I swear he's got to be in the 99th percentile of kids his age in the world travels department. He's twice been to Catalina, once to Jackson Hole, Wyoming, once to Chicago, once to Holden Beach, North Carolina, is about to get on a plane to Grand Rapids, and will be making a return trip to Chicago this Christmas. With layovers, I count 14 flights this year. With a one-year-old child. Which makes him a well-seasoned traveler, and his parents dumb AF.
The Chicago trip was amazing, especially because nearly my entire family went to a Cubs game while we were in town; walking with him into the stands, and seeing him look out on that field and the ivy for the first time was really special. The game itself was not so special, but fortunately there was a large structural post blocking our view of most of the action, so we didn't have to watch much of it.
The Holden Beach trip was also fun. He got to dip his toes in the Atlantic, making him officially bi-coastal. He also got to be covered from head to toe in nature's glitter (i.e. sand), which delighted his mother and made his father take seven showers.
But on the upside, he got to meet his cousin Sully, plus Noah, and Logan, and Theo, and Max...there were a lot of babies and kids there. But also beer and wine, so it evened out. Then there was also that time when we were out to dinner and Oliver had a major blowout, so Erin took him outside to her mom's new car to change him. He twisted and turned, smearing fresh shit all over the interior. This delighted his father and made his mother take seven showers.
That's About It
As this heading indicates, that's about it. Oh...he's got his sixth tooth coming in, he loves the flamingoes at the zoo, and he thinks it's funny to hand us something and then snatch it back just as we're about to take it. Okay, now I think that's it. If I think of anything else I forgot, I'll text you.
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