The Walker

Sally is in the middle of her 10th month ... and she is walking!  Not just a step or two here and there anymore ... now she can travel short distances, up to 10 steps or so.  More and more she's choosing to walk instead of crawl.  She does best wearing her sneakers, which goes against everything I thought I knew about babies and walking and shoes (barefoot is best, soft shoes next best, hard soled shoes once they're established walkers, etc.)  Sean thinks the Nikes he bought her give her extra ankle support, and is very proud (of Sally, of course, but also) that the shoes he chose are working so well.  "Must be the shoes," he says, with a pleased little smile.

Hotel room mirrors are the best

Milestones and firsts abound these days.  Sally accompanied me, Umma and Baba on a trip out to Syracuse for my cousin Rachel's wedding.  And so: first airplane trips, first hotel stays, first swims, first visit to the extended family.  We realized that my first flight was to visit the Swifts (my dad's side of the family) when I was 9 months. old.  Walter's first flight was to visit the Swifts (for a wedding) when he was one year old. So Sally kept the tradition going, and she did beautifully on both flights. She showed no sign of ear pain, so she must have had a break in her semi-permanent ear infection (it's back. We had our first visit to Dr. S the ENT yesterday. Sigh. Milestones.)  She snoozed a little but was awake much of the time and pretty happy and interested in the experience.  On the flight home she made friends with a 20-month-old girl in the row behind her, which brought back great memories of Walter making friends with the baby in the row behind us on a flight back from Pennsylvania.  There's nothing quite as delightful for babies as finding each other on a plane like that.  They are so, so pleased.  The giggles! The kisses! The hand-holding!  They become friends faster in that exact context than in any other I've seen.

Dancing at the wedding

Sally approached the whole trip with an attitude of delight, and had a wonderful time, even with long stretches in the rental car, eating out and at odd times, and nap and bedtime all off schedule.  She slept quite well in the hotel rooms and was very charming and friendly with everyone she met.  Seeing her with my dear cousins and aunts and uncle made my heart very glad indeed, and I was very glad and grateful indeed that we were able to make the trip (Thank you, Umma and Baba!)  It was a beautiful wedding and a wonderful family adventure.

Sally and Walter both did some serious flourishing while they were only children for a week, but were also very relieved and happy and ready when we reunited at Umma and Baba's house.  We went to Ella's Deli in Madison and Sally got another first: her first carousel ride!  She clung to my shoulder, smiling and nervous.  Then she got braver and braver and soon she was holding onto the pole instead of me, looking all around in joy and wonder.  Walter, on the horse next to her, the old carousel veteran that he is, cheered her on and encouraged her.

On the carousel

It's good to be Sally, it really is.  Ear infections excluded, of course, but even that she manages pretty well.  We've started sleep-training her a little bit--she'll cry for five minutes or less and then go to sleep, and her sleeping has improved a lot with this change, but it makes her sad and that's hard on all of us.  Her life has many mundane aggravations: being put into her carseat, not being fed fast enough, not getting water fast enough, not getting (insert whatever Sally wants here) fast enough, having her diaper changed, having her toothbrush taken away when we're done brushing, not being allowed to imperil her life by going headfirst down the stairs, or eating small non-food objects she finds on the ground, or chewing on electrical cords, etc. She is very vocal in her displeasure and seems genuinely sad about it all. But overall I'd say she's a happy baby, who feels things very deeply, communicates well and has strong opinions and an above-average level of determination and stick-to-it-tivness.

Personality!

Occasionally I'm tempted to compare my children to other children and this way lies madness.  But it's good, too, for me to observe that there are many babies and toddlers out there who are much more laid back and content than my kids and also just as bright, talented and interesting as my kids are. I've been tempted, you see, to explain Walter and Sally's intensity as a byproduct of their brilliance, but I don't think that's necessarily true.  My kids are intense and they are brilliant. Other kids are laid back and brilliant.  They're people, and people are different, with different personalities that are shaped by all kinds of factors, mostly beyond our control.

My thoughts when I'm trying to change Sally's diaper are not this calm and reasonable, I assure you.

Sally at 10 months old is sweet, funny, ornery, fiesty, joyful, adventurous, curious, communicative, musical, loving, friendly, smiley, stubborn, defiant, snuggly and proud.  She loves Walter best of all the people in the world.  She loves Hank the Dog, too.  She loves to play catch with me: I roll her a rubber ball, she grabs it and throws it at me with alarming accuracy.  She hates being left behind--if someone she loves leaves the room she cries real tears of real sadness. She continues to love our kisses and gives beautiful kisses in return.  She waves, she claps.  She maybe signs a little bit, mostly for water, but communicates clearly enough without it. I think she said "Ball" the other day, but I'm not sure. She definitely says, "Mama," "More" and "All done," though that last one requires a lot of

Look at those teeth!

adult interpretation to understand.  She has resolutely resisted all attempts at getting her into a bedtime routine and won't sit still for stories, so we let her run around while we read at her. She enjoys all kinds of food and has a very healthy appetite. She's got two more teeth poking through on the bottom, which will bring her total to 8. She's got an adorable gap between her two top front teeth and a smile that makes everyone in the world smile back.  She's beautiful.  I watched her sleep in my arms this morning and she was just so gorgeous I couldn't stand it.  I think I got a glimpse of what she's going to look like as a grown up--she doesn't look like me or Sean or Walter, she looks like Sally, and she is just lovely.  When she stretches and yawns my heart does somersaults.

"Hey Sally dear, hey Sally dear/ We are so very glad that you're here. Hey Sally dear, Hey Sally dear/ You're loved,  you're blessed, that much is clear!"

Always Being Made New

Dear Walter and Sally,

Something big happened today.  The Evangelical Lutheran Church in America, the denomination I serve as a pastor, elected a woman to be presiding bishop for the first time.

Her name is Elizabeth Eaton, and when she was elected she was serving as bishop of the Northeastern Ohio Synod. I don't know anything about her other than what I saw and read today.  She seems earnest, which I really like, and smart, and passionate about her faith and the life of the church. People who already know her as a leader say she is honest, direct and wise, and that she's weathered many storms already in her time as a synod bishop with grace and compassion and integrity.

We don't know yet what kind of presiding bishop she will be.  So far, she seems kind of nervous and overwhelmed, which is very understandable.

You're probably wondering why this is such a big deal to me.  I hope, anyway, that by the time you two read this the novelty of women reaching the highest leadership positions in the church and elsewhere is thoroughly out-of-date.

Like you, I grew up in a church where women could be ordained and serve as pastors.  The rules changed to allow it in 1970, and I was born in 1981, so I never experienced life as a Lutheran without women pastors.  The congregation I grew up in had several pastors who were women, and they had a profound influence on me and forming my faith and my identity as a Christian.  Of course, the pastors I grew up with who were men did that, too.

But it was a powerful experience for me, growing up in a predominantly Roman Catholic town, to grow up in a church where women could be pastors.  I realized very early on that I had options my Roman Catholic friends who were girls didn't have.  My parents always told me I could be anything I wanted to be, and do anything I set my mind to doing.  I felt like my church affirmed that message, not just for me but for all girls and boys: you are beloved, you are special, you are gifted and called by God ... and whatever it is that God is calling you to do, you can do it.

Of course, it wasn't completely true, back then.  There were still rules and other barriers to people being ordained and being elected to leadership positions. As I've gotten older, the church has gone through some amazing transformations that have made that feeling of being affirmed and empowered in my calling that I had as a little girl an actual reality for more and more people.  In 2009, the ELCA voted to change the rules so that people in same-sex relationships can be ordained. This year, one of my favorite professors, recently ordained, was elected as a synod bishop--the first openly gay person in a committed relationship to be elected as a bishop in the ELCA. And today, the first woman presiding bishop was elected ... and not only that, but of the top four candidates, three were women.  There wasn't just one qualified woman leader to choose, there were many.  

I used to think that I wanted to be the first woman presiding bishop in the ELCA.  The idea of being a history-maker appealed to me.  But this is so much better.  I will be able to tell you, Sally, that just before you were born a new possibility for women in the church was born, too. And Walter and Sally, you will both grow up in a church that allows me to look you in the eyes and say, with total honesty, "You can do anything God is calling you to do."  You may not want to be pastors or bishops, but being gay or straight or a man or a woman isn't automatically going to disqualify you from doing those things.  The door isn't pre-shut.  And that's a pretty exciting, wonderful thing. Something to celebrate!

The theme of the assembly that's going on right now is "Always Being Made New," so I think today and every August 14th we should celebrate Always Being Made New Day.  On that day I think our family should celebrate options and possibilities and potential.  On that day we should also celebrate Umma and Baba's wedding anniversary, because their love is Always Being Made New, too.  And also because they've always encouraged me to dream big, and to look toward the future with hope.

On that day, we should eat cake.  Because cake is delicious and Baba and I really like frosting.

Anyway, in some ways I hope this hoopla seems a little silly to you.  But I hope you also know how proud I am to be a pastor in the ELCA, and how proud I am of both of you, and how limitless your potential--our potential, all of us--seems to me right at this very moment.  I am feeling hopeful, excited, and very much being made new.

I love you!  Happy Always Being Made New Day!
Mama

Citing Sources

Shortly after Walter's arrival on the maternity ward, I thought to myself, "Man, this kid owns this place." Our latest visit, not his first trip there. His first appearance, literally, he was pulled like a magician's rabbit from an incision in Mama's stomach in a way that my brain is still unable to comprehend. He was long, robust, and grey, and I thought, "He doesn't look very happy," and said, "He doesn't look very happy."

So soon to change. Our most recent visit, he jogged briskly and gleefully around the halls, chattering a bit and smiling at nurses. It's partly the confidence that walking brings, and partly some charm that's inately Walter's.

His 12th month was a series of homecomings, of a sort. There was this return trip to the maternity ward, when we visited friends from church who'd just given birth to their own little boy. Then to the Albright ancestral manse on the moors of Drexel Hill, PA for Thanksgiving and presentation to the matriarchs for inspection. (Passed.) And along the way a little side jaunt to the Atlantic Ocean. (Elaborating metaphorically or philosophically on the ocean's role as point-of-origin is left as an exercise for the reader.)

Thanksgiving took me by surprise, really. Walter had been ripping through all those firsts, like steps and birthdays and tastes of the ocean, that this second Thanksgiving felt like maybe we'd finally run out of firsts. Second plane ride, second Christmas, second helping of crackers, plees. All out of first-year firsts, I guess. I recall someone cutting into an onion coincedent with this realization, for the record. But when I sum that first year up, I can only count it as a huge triumph for Walter.

Some days, not all the time, I don't think he really asks much of me directly, and some days, not all the time, I know I don't have much to give. Annie and I have worked hard to become Walter's framework for success, and I guess we'll never know exactly how successful we've been, but we'll always be the first to cheer for his successes. Like this year he was pulled into screaming, and walked out of smiling.

Walter's favorite word ...

... is crocodile.

When he wakes up in the morning it is one of the first things he says--"ccchhhhroccckkkohdial"--like he's been dreaming about the word all night and practicing it in his sleep. He says it at home and at daycare; it's not his most-used word, but he says it at least once a day.

There are so many things every day that make me think "I have to write that down.  I have to remember this."  Tonight it was the crazy case of the giggles he got while nursing before bed, resulting in an unfortunate case of the wet hiccups. And the way he added in his two cents over the baby monitor while we watched the presidential debate.  And the way he walked all over the church during our Wednesday night activities, even walking right up to me while I led worship from the lectern ... a "first" my congregation has been predicting for awhile.

Walt and Henry the day that inspired us to get the boy some shoes

He got his first pair of shoes and took less than one day to adapt to walking in them. He went to his first birthday party, a one year celebration for his best friend, Henry. (Walter and Henry have been day care friends since 3 months; sometimes they'll make eye contact and start cracking up out of nowhere, sharing a joke that no one else is in on.) Walter likes eating stews and other complex, multi-layered, textured and flavored foods, making his daddy the cook very proud.  He likes to help Daddy cook, too, pushing his first pork roll around the pan with a pair of tongs.

There's no way I can possibly keep up with it all, remember it all, record it all.  But I am enjoying it all very, very much.

Crocodile!

Furious Firsts

Yes, he's wearing blue.  That's my fault.

We got the proofs back of Walt's first "school photos" today.  The whole thing was very exciting ... dressing him up in a ridiculous outfit, dropping him off at day care, Walt looking all clean and put together and us wondering exactly how long that would last. My school photos always featured extra static-y hair and freshly scratched-open scabs on my face.  So, I was expecting something like that.  Instead, Walt's clothes, hair and face look great.  But they posed him with a toy tractor.  And, in another photo, a baseball, bat and glove.  Why?!  So distracting, so unnecessary, so nonsensical, so unimaginative, so ... presumptuous. We don't know what sport he likes or if he likes sports at all.  We can't assume he'll automatically be enamored with farm equipment and heavy machinery.  I was almost mad enough to write my first angry mom letter, warning against forcing my son into heteronormative stereotypes.

But then I took another look at the one with the tractor, and it's pretty cute.  We might get an 8 x 10 or two.

Fleeting fits of anger are the norm these days in our house.  Mostly on the part of Walter, whose sixth month milestone sheet from the pediatrician says this is a normal developmental stage.

This is Walter's worried face

Today, Walter had his first honest-to-goodness temper tantrum. When I picked him up from day care and put him in the car seat to go home, Walt did his normal little worried face and informative cry. He was informing me that I needed to get him on the boob, ASAP.  I was able to distract him with the ABC song. When we got home he seemed OK, so I thought I'd try to get some oatmeal into him before nursing.  The moment his bottom hit the highchair he wailed, and then stopped as soon as I picked him up again.  I still needed to take off my coat, so I tried to sit him down in our nursing chair for a moment.  He locked his legs to keep from sitting and then ...

...he stamped his feet!!

Angry foot stamping!  I couldn't believe it. I didn't hesitate for a moment--I got him to sit, took off the coat, removed all other barriers and got him nursing--but that little foot stamp flooded me with all kinds of thoughts and emotions.

This little guy has always had big feelings.  Even before he was born, I felt like he was trying to express himself. Maurice Sendak died today, so I'd already been thinking about kids and all those deep, big, sometimes scary feelings that wash over you and toss you around when you're little. I can remember shaking with rage, totally out of control with feelings that were too big for my body.

I'm not going to lie ... Walter stamping his foot and throwing a tiny baby tantrum was pretty adorable.  But it was also pretty amazing, and it gave me pause to think about all the tantrums and outbursts and door slamming to come.

It's alright to cry, little boy.  It's OK to stamp your feet sometimes, too.  Gotta get all that energy out somehow. Preferably not while nursing.  Ouch.

Why, Mom?  Why?

A week ago we were at church and I decided to get Walt out into the beautiful weather to play on the grass.   "This is going to be so fun!" I thought, also feeling guilty that we don't have good grass for Walter to lounge and play on at home.  I joined some congregation members outside, sat down, and very confidently sat Walter down in front of me, feeling proud that he's so good at sitting up on his own.  The mom next to me said, "Wow, that's great.  When I put my babies on the grass they usually ... did that!" She pointed and I saw Walter winding up a huge silent scream, preparing the way for a heartfelt wail.  I scooped him up, got a blanket under him, and he was fine, but wary.

Yesterday we tried again, a little wiser, a little more cautious. I sat him down on a blanket on the grass.  He sat up confidently and reached out to touch the grass with hands. He'd touch it, shudder, wipe his hands on his pants, and then reach out for the grass again and repeat.  Eventually, his curiosity regarding dandelions overcame his repulsion, and he set his hands down on the grass and kept them there awhile.

He still doesn't like it.  But he keeps trying.  And when a cool breeze blows through his hair, he smiles and sighs.  There's a whole lot of good in this wild, scary, infuriating world.

Who's on firsts?

We tend to batch most of Walter's firsts in the monthly round-ups—he's developing so quіckly he seems to tick a handful off every day, and we'd rather spend our few waking hours enjoying the little guy (or napping.) But this one, I had to report right away.

This one is huge: today, Walter told his first joke.

Okay, he can't speak English yet, but it was definitely a joke. He told it twice, to Annie and then to me, his delivery was impeccable*, and we all cracked up.

Perfect timing: While snuggling/playing one-on-one with us, he maneuvered himself out of our line of sight, and then started nursing on Annie's knee and my elbow. When we craned around to see his face, he gave us this huge grin, "This isn't for nursing—breasts are for nursing!"

Of course, for the first month or so, he would nurse blindly on anything he could get in front of him. But this was different—he wasn't hungry at all and he was really deliberate about it, staying "latched" until he got our attention. When I started laughing at his joke, he broke into big giggle fit.

I realize I'm getting into "a joke explained…" territory here. I guess you had to be there. But don't worry, you'll get your chance; he'll be here all week.

*This was refreshing—his earlier delivery could best be described as labored. No joke.