The Little Swimmer That Could
She stands 48″ tall and she’s only 6 years old. Her little butt is so small that we’ve nicknamed it the “tiny heiney ” We don’t normally sit around talking about our daughter’s butt; however, when she’s trying to find a competition suit that fits, the tininess of her heiney becomes a big issue when you combine that with her height. After three years of being dragged to swim meets for her sister, and having to listen to long conversations about how amazing and wonderful “Swim Girl” did at her meet this weekend or that weekend, Sassy has finally arrived on the competitive swimming scene.
Last year, she spent the year working on stroke refinement at her swimming club. The previous spring, we had to remove her from the program because she was not yet ready. During the past year, she did two dual meets for fun. At the first one, she pushed off from the wall, turned around and asked her coach what stroke she was supposed to be swimming. Between that one and the meet a month later, she dropped about 20 seconds of time. (It’s amazing what happens when you just swim and don’t have to ask for directions.)
This summer, she decided she wanted to swim on the summer team. We have a very big, and very competitive swim team and she showed up in the 8 & under group worried about how she’d do. We were worried she might get lost in the shuffle. But she hasn’t, not one bit.
After two laps of freestyle, she was put into the more advanced group of the 8 & under swimmers. During her first meet, she swam in three events and did quite well. Although she was exhibition in both 25 freestyle and 25 backstroke, she came in first in both of her heats, easily. She also swam in the free relay and did really well. (Lane 1-closest to the camera.)
On Friday night, we took her to her first invitational meet. It was a long course pool so instead of swimming 25’s, she had to swim 50’s of both freestyle and backstroke with no wall to grab onto for a breather. She swam her 50 free in under a minute, coming in 7th place overall in the 8 & under division, ahead of many 7 and 8 year old swimmers. She swam her backstroke in a little over a minute, coming in 7th place overall and beating many kids who were older than her.
Last night she had another dual meet. I was shocked to see she was not swimming exhibition. I had a moment of panic, big fish in little pond-little fish in big pond and all, and then figured it didn’t matter. She’s 6. Let’s just see what she does.
She ended up coming in 4th place in the 25 free and 3rd place in the 25 back. Her free relay won 1st place by a good 25 meters at least, and that was with two of the relay swimmers (Sassy included) waiting to jump off the side until they were really sure the other person had truly, indeed, touched the wall.
After living in the shadow of her sister for so long, she is finally making her own little waves and I am so incredibly proud of her and all of her hard work. She has a couple invitational meets coming up and I am hoping and praying she does well enough to earn at least a ribbon. She has approached it all with such a winning attitude that she really deserves it. The little sister no one ever saw coming, is here.
Am I Parenting or in a Street Fight?
I was talking to someone about my blog last weekend, about how I feel completely and totally stifled in what I’m able to write about. When I first started writing, I was completely anonymous. I didn’t even tell Mr. BBM I had a blog until I already had a couple posts up. I had my first comment before he even knew it existed.
Then all of that changed. First, people at my original karate school found out about it. I knew I hadn’t said anything unsavory about anyone, but I still went flying home after class, just to double-check and make sure. Then my family started finding out about it. Then my friends.
At some point, my neighbors found out about my blog. I worried that my crazy neighbor, the one who drank chardonnay at 10 a.m. in fuzzy slippers while stopping to peer in my kitchen window at me, would find out that the way I dealt with her weed garden and airing her litter box out on my sidewalk, was to vent about her erratic behavior on my blog. When she told me a squirrel had found its way into her house and she wasn’t sure where it was, I kind of stopped worrying. Hell, if a squirrel in her house didn’t bother her; nothing I could say was going to get to her.
Then I moved and within a few months, all my new friends and neighbors found out about my blog. Some of my best blog posts are my rants about the crazy people in my life; and when your family, friends, neighbors and everyone else is reading your blog, you’re sort of limited in what you can share without feeling like you’ll have a lynch mob after you.
But I miss writing, because it’s a release for me that I’m currently not getting by going to the gym or going to the dojo. I’m removing the gag and I’m just going to put it all out there and tell you about my week. . . because it was a good one (heavy on the sarcasm).
First, I’m now obsessed with making my own baby food. I started for two reasons: to give the little man healthy food and to save money. The amount of money that I’ve spent on little baby bullet storage containers, a crock pot, a steamer, a masher and a baby food cookbook (which basically says, “cook the crap out of everything and then blend it into nothing”), and a new peeler is definitely going to cancel out the money I thought I’d be saving. I also almost lost a finger this week.
I’ve been using a potato peeler (a super cheap one), since like college. I finally decided to be a big girl and buy a grown up one. I was amazed to find out that it actually peels stuff, well. Like really well. In fact, it peels things so well that while I was peeling an endless amount of apples to make applesauce for Baby Belated (that he still hasn’t eaten because I think he hates apples), I inadvertently peeled my middle finger. It was one of those moments where you’re like ohmygodthathurtouchholycrap, and then you think for just a second that you’re actually going to be ok, right before the gush of blood erupts.
At that point, Baby Belated had decided he was so completely done in his exersaucer. Sassy decided she forgot where all the band-aids were located (and when she finally remembered she brought me one that would cover a pimple, not a gushing near-amputating wound). Swim Girl was busy being an almost teen, locked in her room with her iPod. I wrapped my finger in a paper towel and tried to pretend I wasn’t getting light-headed. I handed a new toy to Baby Belated and ran upstairs to find a band-aid. Sassy beat me to it, because she finally remembered. The bathroom floor was covered with open band-aids, because you clearly can’t tell what size it is until you open it; and even if the paper looks the same size, what’s inside might be much bigger. You know, because that is ALWAYS the case.
I soaked through the paper towel and by the time I got two very tight band-aids on my finger, my bathroom counter looked like a murder scene. I needed chocolate; we had none. I also sort of needed a transfusion.
When dinner was finally ready and the homemade baby applesauce and sweet potatoes were ready too, we all sat down for dinner. Baby Belated decided he would have none of that. I was SOOOOOO happy I had slaved all afternoon and nearly amputated my finger (Hey Layton, you may be right. . . ).
Today, I took the girls for swimming lessons and was maneuvering the stroller into the pool through a double-set of doors when I slammed my left pinky toe into the wheel of the stroller. At this point, I’m fairly certain I have four broken toes, each in various stages of healing, with one still being firmly in the throbbing and hurting like a mother mode. I have broken all four of them on baby things, baby seats, baby strollers. Right now my toe is purple and my entire foot hurts. This is the curse of being born with finger toes when you love flip-flops. I think I need to start buying closed toe sandals like I used to make the girls wear to prevent tripping. It also didn’t help when Sassy asked if she could see my toe, and then proceeded to squeeze it. That’s what everyone with a broken toe needs, someone to squeeze it as hard as they can. (What was that kid thinking???)
Basically, this parenting business has been kicking my butt all week long. I won’t even go into details about how I threw my back out, all in the name of keeping little man asleep in his car seat for a little while, only to have him wake right up the minute I set him down in the house. Nope, not even going there.
Six Months
Babies develop in phases. Maybe it’s because he’s my third one, maybe because he’s my last one, but the time periods between these phases are entirely too short. Baby Belated is now 6 months old and it feels like he’s doing something new every single day.
He went from being this pleasant little infant, to a very busy and curious little guy who just doesn’t want to stay still. In the past two months, he’s mastered sitting, and easily goes from sitting into a belly crawling position. Speaking of belly crawling, he’s getting quite good at moving around. He can push himself completely up with straight arms and he’s beginning to move those legs into crawling position. Yes, I’m getting scared. If I leave him to go wash my hands, I am now coming back to find him feet away from where I left him. He’s realllly good at moving himself backwards; and if there’s something new to explore, like his sister’s book bag, he finds a way to get there.
He’s decided that diaper changes are super bothersome to his busy schedule. I can’t remember the last time he didn’t try to escape when I changed him. Last week, he started saying “da da.” And although he hasn’t yet mastered “ma ma,” Mr. BBM is pretty sure that he’s calling me “ra ra.” I’ll take it.
I’m also happy to take the giant sloppy kisses he’s now giving. Yes, that’s a hickey on my arm from little man. Yes, that’s likely drool dripping off my cheek after one of his killer sweet kisses. I get these little affections quite often now considering the little guy has discovered we are no longer attached and does not like that at all, not one bit.
Although he just started eating cereal and some fruit last week, he’s pretty much mastered that. He’s already eying up my eggs and bacon in the morning.
At his well visit last week, the doctor reported that he is now 29 inches long (100th percentile and just plain ridiculous) and 18.6 lbs (60th percentile). He’s a lean, sweet, little machine. While our doctor was examining his belly, he started giggling so hard that he was snorting. I’m fairly certain his doctor fell in love with him, because she just kept tickling his belly and telling him how cute he is. Not that I’m biased or anything, but my little man is a looker. He’s the cutest thing EVER.
His personality is developing so rapidly and it’s such a good one. He enjoys making us laugh and has started doing this adorable little face where he scrunches his nose and breaths in and out really fast. The girls crack up and then he does it even more. He loves to laugh and we do lots of it in this house, now that he’s here.
Tonight, Mr. BBM helped him to stand up and he was taking actual steps. I told Mr. BBM to knock that off immediately. I have much more baby proofing to do around here. I’m already freaking out about having a crawler in the house; an early walker? Um, no thanks.
I realize the blog updates have been few and far between. That’s because I am soaking in every single moment with him (and I’m slightly out of practice with writing something good and effective in these short baby-free moments). I know how fast they grow up (says the mom of a now 11-year old), and I’m determined not to miss a thing about this little guy. Not a thing.
No Screens: Why People who are Constantly on their Phones are Missing Out on the World
Over the weekend, Mr. BBM, his dad, step-mom and I went to see “The Hunger Games.” It was premiere weekend, so I should have known better. The first premier weekend movie I went to, back in the day, was “Evita.” Mr. BBM and I were dating at the time and we were fashionably late. We ended up having to sit in the front row of a crowded theater. That wasn’t the worst part. By far, the two old ladies who were sitting behind us took that honor. They felt it necessary to question everything about the film, as in “Why are they singing everything?” Seriously? Did they not know the premise of the movie and that it was a musical? They also talked with their mouths full. I know this because during one of their little outbursts about why Madonna was singing constantly, one of the women choked on popcorn very loudly. The noise wasn’t the problem though. The problem was that when she finally cleared the wet offending piece of popcorn from her throat, it ended up being hacked into my hair. It was a night to remember for sure.
Another premiere weekend movie I attended was one of those awful new Star Wars movies (not that the classics are any better). I was pregnant with Sassy at the time and during the movie, that Amoebagladden character (whatever her name was), was pregnant with twins. After the movie was over, I stood up anxiously waiting my turn to run to the bathroom. A bunch of teenagers were staring at my stomach like I was an alien. “Ask her,” the one whispered to the other. “Ask her if she’s having twins.” Clearly, their mothers had not taught them that you NEVER ask a pregnant woman if she’s having twins. I glared at them with a look of death that would have scared Darth himself and they promptly turned away. I was hugely pregnant and had just sat through a Star Wars movie. Don’t push me.
We arrived at the theater this weekend at a decent enough time that we didn’t need to sit in the front row; but it was certainly crowded. Although the ages were varied, there were many teenagers in the theater. I guess they were all too busy updating Facebook to hear or see the “please turn your cell phones off” message that was played loud and clear; because it wasn’t long before there was a strange glow coming from the floor in front of Mr. BBM. The kid in front of him had dropped his cell phone on the floor and it was sending up a blinding glow. Mr. BBM bent over, committed the cardinal sin of picking something off the theater floor and handed it to the kid. He should have thrown it across the theater. Maybe it would have sent a message.
After the movie started, we had two sets of teenager narrators sitting behind us. Every sentence started with “In the book. . . ” when they weren’t starting with, “This is the part where. . . (fill in what was about to, but had not yet happened).” It continued to happen and finally I sat forward and turned my head sharply to the loudest set of narrators. I gave them a look. They got quiet for a little while. It didn’t last long. Down the aisle, several teenagers sat there with their phones in their laps, updating Facebook play for play during the movie perhaps? The glare of the phones throughout the theater was ridiculous. Mr. BBM actually had to lean in my direction to avoid the glare of someone’s phone several rows in front of us. It was unbelievable. Could they not check out for a two hour movie?
About half way through the movie, both Mr. BBM and I both had to shoot dirty looks at the second set of narrators behind us to the left. There was constant talking in the theater, near constant lights popping on from phones. I was trying to get absorbed into the movie; but it was difficult because I kept vowing my kid would not be one of those kids someday.
I know how it can happen. Mr. BBM and I both have smart phones. Sometimes we find ourselves scrolling through Facebook instead of interacting with each other. Does it really matter what some guy we graduated college with 16 years ago is having for dinner? Is that more important than the here and now in this house? No.
Last week, I was irritated when Swim Girl was mentally checking out all the time and ignoring me when I told her to get started on her homework. She saved up for and bought herself an iPod Touch a few months ago. She can get a little obsessed with it. She doesn’t have a cell phone yet; and she’s not getting one for that very reason. Kids can get themselves into big trouble with phones and iPods.
The other day, I watched a school girl walk down the street staring at her phone as she walked. If something had been in her way, she would have fallen over it. We live in the area where a woman texted herself, head first, right into the mall fountain. In my neighborhood, I was run off the road with three kids in the car by a teenager who was texting while driving. I look at all these people who constantly have their faces in their phones and I think about how sad it is, that they’re choosing to communicate and live life virtually. Are they ever in the moment?
One of my sister’s ex-boyfriends used to sit at our house on holidays with his phone in his face the entire time. He had no communication skills what-so-ever and it was just plain rude.
When you are in someone else’s company, it is rude to be consulting your phone to see what other people are doing. Kids need to know this; teenagers need to realize that they can watch a movie for two hours without the internet crumbling down around them if they are not participating in it for a short time.
For this reason, we are making a new rule in this house. It’s called the “No Screens” rule. When we are all at home in the evening hours, the phone and iPods are being put away. We are going to interact as a family. We’re not going to Skype, comment on the status of someone we don’t even know, or kill a little green pig. We’re going to go family old school, where we sit around the dinner table and look at each other, and discuss our day. At first, it might be hard to feel so disconnected; but I think that we’re going to find that it is freeing. And perhaps, others should do the same, get out there and actually live in the world we live in, rather than experiencing it through what everyone else is doing.
I am determined to have children who use their phones and iPods responsibly and appropriately. I am hell bent on having kids who know how to interact with people in the room with them. And if it means that the phones and iPods go away permanently, so be it.
Most of you know the premise of the movie, The Hunger Games.” As we were coming home on Saturday night, I told Mr. BBM that if the doors had been shut and we were told that only one of us was making it out alive, the odds would have been strongly in my favor, because 90% of the theater would have been too busy on their phones to even know what was happening.
Something needs to change, and we’re starting in this house.
5 Months
This week, my baby turned five months old. . . already.
How did that happen?
The last month has been full of new things for Baby Belated. He turned his rolling of February into a mastered art in March. He started sitting up by himself and thinks that falling over into my waiting hands is the most hysterical thing ever.
He discovered that his feet make lovely teethers and when you can fit a hand in there at the same time, it’s even better.
Peek-a-boo has become a new and favorite activity. In fact, he sometimes laughs so hard that he chokes. Diaper changes have become episodes of “catch me if you can” as he rolls and wiggles away to discover something new.
More stable now, Swim Girl has discovered that she can carry him around; and oh, how the little guy loves his big sisters. Swim Girl finds it a personal challenge to get her little brother laughing at new things each day. Her crazy sounds and faces are quite popular in the repertoire. And of course, Sassy is never far behind in imitating her big sister. If it can make him laugh, it’s the activity of the day.
I’m starting to sound like a broken record, but I can’t help but reiterate how wonderful an addition this little man has been to our family. Now if I could just get him to slow down a bit.
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