Week of September 18, 2002

Owen is walking! It took a month of struggling, but he's at the point where he's more often on his feet than on his knees. He's been in a good mood since he got the hang of things, and now he's walking all over the apartment with his big purple ball in his arms. We got the ball right after we went to the Stride Rite store, and now we know he's too old to bring to a Toy Store. He was shot from shoe shopping and the idea of being unable to play with his ball immediately was incomprehensible to him. There was wailing and there were tears. We all earned that purple ball.

We went to the mall because of Owen's walking. I'd been reluctant to spend real money on real shoes, thinking Owen was just going to be outgrowing them (and canvass shoes are so cute!). But we couldn't seem to get any shoes on his feet. We worried we were being wussy, but we just couldn't seem to cram them on. And Owen hated them, he'd burst into tears with each shoe and his toes would curl up as far as they could go. It was horrible. We'd put it off dealing with shoes as long as we could, but he'd taken the requisite 10 steps and we wanted him to be able to wander around outside with his feet protected.

So we went to the only Stride Rite store around, in the Holyoke mall. It's a hole in the wall, but we thought we'd see what it was like and explore our options. I was still having trouble with the idea of spending $40-50 on baby shoes. It was empty when we got there and the saleswoman sidled up to us. I was apprehensive, but in a flash, Owen's feet were measured and shoes produced. Owen curled his toes but the woman persevered and lo and behold, he had shoes that fit! Sure they were homely and white, but they fit. It turned out that Owen's feet weren't just wide, they weren't even extra wide, they were in fact Double-Wide, the widest shoes that Stride Rite makes.

Yes, in addition to a long torso and stubby legs, I have given him duck feet. I'm so proud. I just hope that Owen gets some of my better qualities too, and not just the ones I would have dropped out of the gene pool. I'm not even sure if his blue eyes are mine. I have tinges of green in my eyes from my mom, so I think his lovely blue must be from my father or my Mom's Mom. Alas, his feet are from me however, and I can see a long line of expensive shoes in our future.

Owen has been working to improve his walking, and is able to get over the gate bottom now without tripping. He can stoop like a master, and get up onto his feet much more gracefully than even a few days ago. The grace and ease with which he can do things seem to steadily improve. It's startling to see how quickly he becomes comfortable with new skills. It won't be long before he wants to pick up speed, and I'm not looking forward to all the bumps and spills we have in our future.

We had a bad night on Tuesday, one where we brought him into bed at 1:30, thinking desperately that this might provide us with a few hours of sleep. We were right, but it was just a few because Owen got up at 5 in spite of barely sleeping the night before. It turned out he was getting a cold, and two days later, Scott and I both got our symptoms. It's relatively mild, but I can see the sore throat or headache might have made Owen an unhappy camper that first evening. I think between the cold and being on the edge of walking, he just couldn't rest at all, and 3:15 wasn't too early to be out and about again. He's also proving more difficult to have nap -- whereas Scott and I would love for someone to tuck us in! The things we appreciate only later in life.

It's a shock now when we pick Owen up a daycare, it's as though he changed overnight. He's excitedly playing with a ball, or running up and down the pavement, or playing with the other children (climbing in the playhouse, swinging on the swing). Diane ruefully laughed that he refuses to walk on the grass, which would be softer on that sweet skin, but we know how stubborn he is and know it's a losing battle. We're glad when we can put in him very long shorts or long pants. He's filthy when we get him home. And exhausted.

Now the routine has shifted when we put him in the car seat. He must have a water bottle pronto (though after he squirted one all over himself on the ride home, we're doing sippy cups only). In the mornings, he has to be able to see Scott take out and unfold the umbrella stroller, and the reverse when we pack up. Watching this always bring smiles. He's so much more aware of his environment, looking for dogs and animals, noticing the water bottle we thought we'd hidden out of sight. He observes everything and is increasingly able to make his needs known. The right Na will have us turn on the light in his room, produce food or a toothbrush or allow him to play with a light swtich after his bath. We are constantly being brought books to read to him, and helping him when a toy or activity isn't going the way it's supposed to.

He likes to have both of us around if possible, and will fetch the other if it seems like one of us has slipped away to do something chore-related. He's always scanning for the missing parent. When one of us is in the kitchen, he runs over for a game of toss-the-ball-over-the-gate. He tires of nothing before we do! We're just lucky when his attention is diverted.

Owen's been running to the window in his room each night that we get home, to do his grunties and give us a dirty diaper. In this same corner, he'll often spend time bouncing a ball, sitting his beanie baby baby upright, or pulling our pendaflex files out of the filing drawer right there. He also can push the button to the computer, which we've been keeping off thank goodness. But he's discovered how to work the printer, and the delights of the formfeed button. Alas, we have no better place to put it!

He knows that getting the highchair out means dinner, as does the sight of a blue plate. He still insists on feeding himself. We've been practicing with a spoon, but I don't think he sees much point to it. We were using ice cream, thinking that would increase the incentive to learn, but he still does no more than play. We'll persevere. A brown bag when we're out brings to mind having a muffin or cookie from Rao's, so again there's a scenario with a clear expectation. We're forgetting that he's so opinionated (and observant), so we're not programmed to this into account. I'm sure we'll be pros and hiding things we don't want him to see, and arranging our behavior to minimize these altercations. While they're mild now, I can see how easily they could escalate. Is this how children turn into people?

 

 

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