The Glowering Monocle

Well, here we are. One whole year.

If it were up to you, you’d already be at least as old as Harper by now; it seriously pisses you off that you can’t keep up with her and the other kids in the neighborhood.  You used to be content to watch their antics from afar; now you want to be in the middle of it all. Most of the kids quietly put up with your presence, except for the two youngest boys in the neighborhood, ages three and five. They have spent the first years of their lives on the receiving end of their siblings’ and cousins’ bashing; and now they wish to pass the tradition on to you. Finally! Someone younger and weaker! Stupid chumps; joke’s on them. Right now, you have your parents and your sister to protect you (like the other day when one of the kids squirted you in the face with a squirt gun; when they came back to do it again, Daddy soaked him with the garden hose, from head to toe); but soon you won’t need us. Soon you’ll be bigger than all these fools. Mwahahahaha!

And you can walk! You usually get five or six steps in before you collapse back to crawling. You love it when Harper takes you by the hand and leads you around the house. Crawling is still your preferred means of forward locomotion, but probably only for the next month or two. Until then, I’ll consider you a baby. And probably after that, too.

You talkin’ to me?

And! Teeth! Two of them, on the bottom. One popped up a few weeks ago, then his partner a few days later. This has done nothing to stop the steady stream of drool from your mouth. And there have been no signs of more to come. You’d think your father and I would know what to do with them, since you have a sister who still has all the teeth she came with, but we actually found ourselves asking Anette, our neighbor and a dentist, if we should be, uh, brushing them. We haven’t tried yet; I wonder if you’ll even let us.

Along with the teeth and the walking, you have also developed an apparently unquenchable thirst for mayhem and destruction. You love to reach inside drawers/boxes/cabinets and grab handfuls of straws/Duplos/cans of corn and toss them to the side. Grab, toss, grab, toss. Which means after five minutes of you in the kitchen, the floor is no longer visible. And as soon one of us even thinks about opening one of the doors that lead to our treacherous stairway, you are bounding out at high speed. Luckily, you can never contain your excitement, so your joyous noises are like a nice alarm system. Sometimes we’ll let you climb up the steps (the hard, granite steps, I should add) with one of us right behind you. This is the most exciting thing ever for you; it’s one of the most nerve-wracking for us. You are just not a careful baby. You have dived head first off the couch more times that we can count, despite all of our efforts to teach you to get down feet first. You are very unlike your sister, which I suppose was to be expected, and yet your stupid parents are shocked every time you do something she never did … like shove handfuls of sand into your mouth. Again and again. By the way: It is super gross when you pull crusts of bread out of the compost trash can and proudly stuff them into your mouth.

Little salamis! They’re good for what ails ya!

In other news, you’re still sleeping like shit … sometimes less like shit, sometimes more like big, big piles of shit. I’m mostly used to it and sometimes there isn’t enough coffee in the world to make up for all the sleep I’m not getting. But sleep is for assholes, right?

Images may appear more angelic than they really are …

Besides Harper, who is truly your BFF for life, Lilly ranks high on the Creatures Isaac Loves list. Daddy actually put you in timeout the other night for repeatedly throwing your dinner down to her. Yes, timeout. I think he did it more to impress Harper, to be honest. But you will seriously look at us, understand when we tell you no, then chuck food down anyway.

 And despite my (admittedly) half-assed efforts to teach you baby sign language, your preferred method of communication remains screeching. Harper is drinking water and you’re not? Tears! Someone walks past you without picking you up? Boo hoo hoo! Lilly’s food is placed out of reach, thus rendering it impossible for you to satiate your craving for dry dog food? Mamamamamamamama! I pick you up and don’t present you with boob right away? Waaaah! (and the flinging of yourself into a nursing position). You do have a few words in your vocabulary, though: Harper, Lilly, Mamamamama and Papa. That’s good enough for us!

The other day, you were outside in the backyard while I was in the kitchen. Then you started to cry; it was your “I’m hurt!!” cry, which is usually reserved for when you pinch your fat fingers in drawers. I ran outside, but I couldn’t see you. Then I heard your muffled cries, and I also noticed the big plastic shell-shaped thing we had leaning against the wall was moving around. I quickly lifted it up and freed you. Of course, I nursed you right away.

And then I laughed and laughed and laughed until the tears came.

Love,

Mama

This month’s nicknames: Gum Gum, Isy, Isaacy, Ice Bear, Nut Nut, Destruction Bear

P.S.: Here’s a bonus video with some highlights of your first year. The song is April by a German band called Blumfeld. It was on the CD we had in the labor room with you, and it just absolutely perfectly sums up how your father and I felt during that first week of your life, specially the first lyrics:

Gestern, Heute, Morgen/Hoffnungen und Sorgen/Wechselspiel der Formen im April

Isaac one year from German Manboy on Vimeo.

Tags: Dear Isaac

Time sure does fly when you’re trying to keep your baby from eating shit out of the trash can. Or from breaking all the bowls. Or from sticking his fingers in outlets. Or from turning the DVD player on and off. It’s hard to believe that your first year is coming to an end; the last 11 months have been, hands down, the fastest of my life.

Boo hoo hoo, enough about me and my sappy, drippy feelings of my baby slipping away. Because, if we’re being honest, the older you get, the more entertaining you become. And that’s what parenthood is all about, right? While you still have yet to grow yourself some teeth, that doesn’t stop you from gobbling down everything in sight. If we try to offer you something different than the rest of us have at any meal, this injustice is met with whines and grunts of protest. This is why we have about three boxes of various kinds of baby cereal collecting dust in the kitchen. I don’t think you’ve met a food you didn’t like. Or inanimate object, for that matter.  Paper towels, dog toys, the edge of the wooden TV stand, the rim of the toilet … you are not picky about what you slobber on.

Can’t you just feed us out of one long bowl?

Your newest party trick involves standing unassisted, looking pleased as punch with yourself. Sometimes you’ll stand there and gather all your courage and take one or two steps before collapsing. You are also getting quite good at walking if someone is holding your hand. I don’t know why we’re encouraging a kind of behavior that is clearly going to come back and bite us in the ass; I envision us chasing you through supermarkets very soon. The thrill of riding in the shopping cart is probably going to wear off sooner than later.

Driving Miss Lilly

But since you’re not yet fast enough to keep up with any of us, you’ve also learned to employ the most effective and pathetic forms of communication: A pleading “Mamamamamamamama!” You have apparently learned a lot about me and my big butter heart over the last 11 months, because you know damn well that I can’t help but pick you up when you do that. This leads to the occasional making of dinner with strapped to my back. Or with you clinging to my leg, leaving me with a very small working radius. If you’re seriously getting up my ass, I’ve found that if I get on my hands and knees and crawl away from you while making noises, you’ll follow. Then I can try to distract you for two minutes so I can, say, deal with hot oil on the stove or pee without an audience. Particularly an audience who likes to lunge for the toilet brush.  And while you understand the concept of “no/nein,” you choose to find it hilarious. You also choose to shake your head vigorously when we say no. While laughing. At us? With us? The former, you say? Well then.

Get off my ass, ladies.

Lucky for you, you are terribly charming. All you have to do is flash your gummy smile to any of us, and your wish is our command. Even Harper. Because, see, my dear son, your sister is what we call A Girl. This apparently means that bitchy hissy fits are on the agenda at least once a day; but even when she’s in the worst of moods, even she can’t help but snap out of it when you crawl over to her with a big smile. Now that you can pretty much get into anything, Harper is finding out (sometimes the hard way) that she either has to learn to share with you or to put her stuff away after playing with it. I have no idea how many puzzle pieces and memory cards you have gummed to death. And you still are on the short end of the stick when it comes to playing with toys when Harper is around; she has figured out, however, to quickly give you a different toy when she takes something away from you. Or, if you start to cry and no one sees why, she is quick to say, “I didn’t do anything!”

Isaaaaac! Stooooop iiiiiiit.

Take that, She-Witch!

You also have a few hilarious party tricks, such as clicking your tongue if someone does it first. Or stealing the remote and cruising away as fast as you can with it. Or crawling into the TV stand to turn on the DVD player, then coming back out to look at the TV. Cause and effect! What a genius!

German spring is not all it’s cracked up to be, but there have been some so-so days where we have been able to let you loose in the back yard. This is very exciting for you, since it brings you one step closer to all the big kids playing outside. Also, it gives you the opportunity to eat grass and dirt. And sand, when we plop you in the neighbor’s sandbox. Sometimes we can just sit you on the ground with a good view of the other kids, and you’ll sit there, transfixed, for a while. It’s clear you want to play with them, but sadly, they just aren’t that into you. Fortunately for you, you’ll probably be bigger than all of them in a few months, and then you can just pick them up and heave them over your head.

First you get the sugar, then you get the power, then you get the women.

And what would the monthly letter be without me bitching about your inability to sleep? There are a few glorious nights where I’ll wake up at something like 5 a.m. and realize I’m in the same position I was when I went to bed. But those moments are, sadly, few and far between. But lately I’ve been able to pass you off to your father when your middle-of-the-night shenanigans become too much to take. Normally you’ll fall right back asleep after nursing, but sometimes you’re apparently looking for a good reason to double kick me in the bladder. It also doesn’t help that when you wake up, you usually just pop right up into a sitting position, ready to dive off the bed or grab a fistful of my face.

And now: Off to one!

Love,

Mama

This month’s nicknames: Nut Nut, Ikey, Isy, Isaacy, Terror Fürst (prince in German), Blubber Bear, Friend, Friendly Baby

Tags: Dear Isaac

Our world is very close to being rocked – or should I say walked?

(Oh God. Was that already a moment where you cringe inside at some dumbass thing your mom says when she’s trying to be witty and cool? I mean, I could go back and delete it and no one would be the wiser … but yet, I think it’s kind of funny … which probably says a lot about me. OK, I’ll shut up now.)

Just a couple of dudes at the bar.

So, your pulling to stand has turned into cruising, which has also turned into showing off by only holding on with one hand while performing magic tricks with the other. Sometimes you apparently think you can walk; you’ll let go and try to take off, where you fall on your face. It’s hilarious and sad and very slapstick. You also have what appears to be a very thick head, because you usually don’t cry that much when you hit your head. Your cruising abilities have spelled bad news for Lilly, who is now no longer safe from your grabby hands. It should be noted that she puts up with your probing with as much grace and aplomb as a Basset can muster; which means she is usually too lazy to move away from you, so she tolerates your putting your hand in her mouth.

Your increasing mobility seems to also be signaling an end of the peace pact with Harper. You are up in her shit more and more, and she gets very frustrated with you. I am toying with the idea of borrowing a play pen from the neighbors; not for you, though. For her. So she can do all the weird little-kid things she apparently need to do in the middle of the floor without you coming over to ruin everything, Godzilla style. She loves you all the same, though. That should be reiterated. We were at an indoor playground hellhole paradise a few weeks ago, and Harper was absolutely jealous that other little kids were playing with you. “That’s my brother!” I think you might have a hard time with partners later in life, kid.

Seriously, Harper? Pull it together, woman!

You love to eat, too. Your current favorites include “dinger,” which are these really disgusting fruit bars made for babies and toddlers. Harper has also loved them pretty much from the get-go of her solid-food days, and since your father and I were usually too lazy to call them by their God-given factory name (which I guess would be “fruit bar” or, in German, “Fruchtriegel”), we called them “dinger,” or, in English “thingy.” And once your sister could start talking, she called them that, too. Anyway, that’s the history of the dinger, and you can pack them back like no other. You also love what we call fruit squeezies, which is just an expensive way of packaging fruit purees for stupid, lazy parents. You also like real-people food, in particular any kind of meat, fish or bean. We think broccoli might not be your thing, but you really like carrots and potatoes. And tofu.  Because we’re classy carnivores around here. Of course, your number-one go-to drink is still milk, followed closely by water.

And this is just another month where I can report that you sleep like shit. Thanks to countless nights of you kicking me in the tits, I’ve started to wonder if we could start swaddling you again. You know, for old-time’s sake and shit. Oh! And maybe to keep you from KICKING ME IN THE TITS. You wake up, I’m guessing, every 2-3 hours. Having learned that there are babies out there who wake up more often than that AND don’t go right back to sleep, I’ve decided to not complain any more. But I will complain about your waking up earlier and earlier. This morning, for example, it was 6 a.m. And I find no shame in admitting that a 10-month-old baby is stronger than me, so there was no way for me to wrestle you back into a lying position.  I hope the arrival of Daylight Savings Time at the end of the month can save me somehow.

This is totally photoshopped.

While I’m not back to work yet, you and Daddy seem to have gotten into a groove as far as naptime is concerned. Sometimes I’ll nurse you, but more often, Daddy will put you in the good ol’ carrier. And you love it. If you’re tired and Daddy puts it on, you light up and try to climb up his leg. Just like Harper did when she was a baby. This is good news for all, particularly my boobs. Yes, your mother’s boobs.

Yup. Let’s just end on that note.

Love, Mama

This month’s nicknames: Nut Nut, Isaacy, Ikey, Professor Yum Yum, Friend, Friendly Baby

Tags: Dear Isaac

While the fact that I have two kids means obviously an expert on all things related to children, I have recently made a new discovery: Within the first year, a baby will suddenly take so many new leaps and bounds in such a short period of time that the mother and father will be left confounded as to who the hell stole their little baby and replaced him with this huge acrobatic meaty drumstick of a kid. You have mastered the fine art of crawling and getting your hands into all sorts of shit (thankfully, though, not literally. Yet, anyway.), and instead of getting uptight about it, Lilly has really embraced you as A True Playmate and, more importantly, The Boy Who Lives In The Sky Who Lets The Food Rain Upon Me. During meals, you’ve been known to shove yourself away from the table and wave pieces of food at Lilly, egging her on like a king would a jester. You’ve learned a lot of lessons here: 1. Your name is Isaac; 2. No means you should probably stop what you’re doing; 3. An impish smile will distract the stupid adults long enough for you to continue on with your shenanigans. We’ve had to kick Lilly out of the dining room during mealtimes, because it had become a race between her and me to see who could snatch your dropped food from the floor fast enough.

You’ve been working hard on your crawling for a while now and finally joined the ranks of the elite “cross crawlers” this month; meaning you can get up on all fours and, well, crawl. You are astonishingly fast, and even when your chosen path from the living room to the kitchen (under the high chair, under the table, under the other chair) is full of obstacles, you are alarmingly quick. Due to the set up of our house with its insane hallway and stairwell made of granite, you are sadly never allowed to crawl in there.  Whenever one of us opens the door to the living room or the kitchen, you magically appear, trying to wedge your giant head between our legs and out into the world. When the door gets shut, tears are shed. On the rare occasions when you get to take a heavily chaperoned trip to The Hallway, your squeals of delight are loud and wholehearted … and kinda weird. I mean, it’s an ice-cold hallway. On your first adventure there, you went right for the flight of steps that leads to the basement, head first. And that was the end of that. (Cue tears).

Get outta my way, broad!

Despite all of our efforts to keep your blood inside your body and your skin intact, you did manage to get a nice gash over your right eye that got us an evening ticket to the hospital. I’ve been a mother for over four years, but this was a first for me. Thanks, kid. You’ve been pulling up on everything this month, and when you pulled up on the wooden TV cabinet, you slipped. There was blood and panicked phone calls to local pediatricians. I use the plural here, but who am I kidding? I think I might have a called the only doctor on call within a 20-mile radius, and that doctor might have been a urologist. Sue me. Anyway, we went to the hospital Weinheim, where they gave you one stitch and a stuffed puppy. When we took you to the pediatrician a week later to get the stitch out, I managed to keep myself from requesting to keep it. Yeah, I’m weird. But I did manage to keep my weird from oozing out, so there’s that.

Oh my gash!

First big boy hospital visit.

You should see the other guy!

So, you’ve got your crawling, pulling to stand and almost cruising all down pat. I guess the next step is, gasp, walking. Harper didn’t walk until she was 15 months (granted, she “walked” on her knees for several months before that), so I think we’re in for a rude awakening when you start standing up on your hind legs like a regular Rory Calhoun. I feel like I need to explain that, and yet, you are my son. Which means you will know the first 10 seasons of the Simpsons inside and out in a few years, so perhaps no explanation will be necessary.

Check this out, ladies!

You also like to “talk” a lot. Just like your sister. God help us all. We all thought we heard you say lettuce at dinner the other night, but that would be weird. Right? You still have no teeth, which makes your talking even more adorable. But you drool so, so much. Why? What is the purpose of all this drool? Bibs are seriously the number one most important clothing item for Schuster babies. Especially you.

Oh! And I feel like I need to document the fact that you sleep like absolute shit. You wake up every one-two hours all night long (all night). It sucks ass.

So, this was our month. The month where your papa and I looked at each other, wondering where our little baby went. You were a small baby for literally five minutes. It’s almost (but only almost) laughable that everyone was worried about you gaining weight at the beginning. I don’t know for sure how much you weigh, but you’re a chunky friend. I’m thinking you’re anywhere between 22-24 pounds right now. And maybe 28, 29 inches? Luckily, thanks to your calm and friendly disposition, you’ll be a gentle giant. Unless someone smites you. Then, given your current tactics, wailing and uncontrollable bitch slapping might be involved.

Love,

Mama

This month’s nicknames: Nut Nut, Professor Yum Yum, Ice Bear, Isaacy, Ikey,

Tags: Dear Isaac

Imagine my surprise when I was standing in the kitchen, minding my own business, when all of a sudden … there you were, under my legs. You’ve been becoming increasingly more mobile for a while now, but your main forte has been backwards locomotion, or traveling in a rather small radius of wherever we’ve plopped you down. But the joke’s the adults chumps here, because you’ve started to perfect the army crawl. If you have your sights set on something specific (your current objects of obsession include Lilly and the vacuum cleaner), then you can get to it with an alarming speed. Alarming because, well shit, I guess this means we need to reconsider where we store all those caustic cleaning agents and what have yous.

Nothing is safe from my grabby, grabby hands.

Also, I said adult chumps, but that’s not quite right, as it disqualifies the lil’est chump of us all – Harper. She’s probably the one who stands to suffer the most from your mobility. We’ve already had to move her arts and crafts stuff from a lower shelf in the sideboard to a box too high for your grabby hands. We’ve now cleared out the lowest shelves in the bookcase in the living room for your grabbing and drooling enjoyment; of course, being the second kid around here, most of these toys used to belong to Harper. And while she doesn’t seem to have a problem with sharing them with you, she has been known to take them from you under the guise of showing you how to use them. She is the expert, after all.

“We’s just talkin’, Mister Officer. Ain’t that right, Isaac?”

Your love for Lilly has grown by leaps and bounds this month; she is still sort of indifferent to you, although she will sometimes acknowledge you with a lick to the side of the face. Of course, when it’s mealtime, you are her favorite person on the planet, and she parks herself right under your chair in order to maximize her food-stealing quadrant. Sometimes she’ll try to climb up your chair; just cutting out the middle man, I guess. You have long figured out that Lilly will pay attention to you if you have food in your hand. This has led to the inevitable: You now throw your food to Lilly on purpose. For a while, we weren’t sure if this was on purpose or not … until we caught you about to toss something down. Our admonishing “Isaac!” was met with a big grin and a triumphant opening of your fist, sending your food to the floor.

After Lilly and Harper, your next BFF is our Dyson vacuum. You absolutely love it. If you’re being a little crabby bitch for no reason, then the Dyson is always guaranteed to improve your mood. You love to follow us around when we vacuum, and yes, you get mad when we’re done. And maybe we’ve just left it on for a while so you could look at it. Maybe.

Your fine-motor skills have also really taken off this month. You love to point at everything with your index finger. Your absolute favorite is anything tiny you find on the floor; you’ll zero in on it with your index finger, drool a-flowin’. You also like to use your finger to poke everyone in the eyes. It’s charming and painful.

The highlight of the month was probably when you said your first word. I mean, I know I’ve told myself that all of those “mamamamamamam” were for me, but who am I shitting? At dinner one night you said “Harper,” and we all heard it. Your papa, Harper and I all looked at each other at the same time and said, “He said Harper!” It figures, I guess, since Harper’s first word was Lilly. You haven’t said it since then, but we’re still counting it as your first word. Your library of hilarious noises is expanding, too. Your most beloved noise right now is “brah brah brah,” and it’s hilarious when you do it with your little gummy mouth and fat cheeks.

Speaking of gummy mouth, you are still toothless, despite the fact that you have been phantom teething for the last six months. Sometimes you’ll drool more than other times, and sometimes you seem like something is bothering you in your mouth, but nevertheless, you remain without teeth for now. Which is fine by me, since one of your favorite pastimes includes nursing. I swear you even made the sign for milk not too long ago. Because you’re clearly a genius. Besides nursing, you also love eating real food. It’s getting more and more difficult to feed you bowls of cereal, mainly because you’d rather do it yourself. Sometimes you’ll let daddy feed you if you’re alone with him; otherwise, you can’t be bothered with us assholes trying to shove stuff into your mouth. Your favorite foods currently include chunks of whole-grain bread, toast with cream cheese, oranges, bananas … and pretty much anything else,  actually.

You’ve literally grown by leaps and bounds this month. It’s so amazing and sad how fast time is flying with you.

Love,

Mama

This month’s nicknames: Nut Nut, Ikey, Isaacy, Baby Bear, Mr. Bear, Bug Bear

Tags: Dear Isaac