Bubble Wrap Fixes Everything

Houston, we have a problem and it's called "independence." Apparently baby Dylan thinks he should be able to go anywhere, grab anything, taste whatever, and sit in a dirty diaper for as long as he sees fit. Well too bad bucko!  Call it naivety, but I actually thought for the first few years of life that Dylan would follow my rules and instructions regardless of his own ambitions because I am the parent and therefore I'm the one in charge here. WHAT A JOKE! My little big boy is convinced that he doesn't need anyone standing in the way of the swivel chair he's dying to climb, or the magazine he wants to tear apart and chew. The balance between letting my precious angel explore his surroundings and protecting him from every corner, penny and tumble ain't easy. It's actually a lot of...wait for it...WORK. 

Have you tried reasoning with a baby before? They are real sticklers. Nearly all of the solutions I come up with to eliminate the dangers of Dylan's quest for independence involve bubble wrapping him or the house. Unfortunately, bubbles won't do anything about his bad attitude toward diaper changes or putting on clothes. I suppose I'll do what all other parents have done throughout the history of time and get creative, stern and all parenty about building good habits that will help him expect less than complete freedom. Also known as: a short leash.

Traumatic Monday

I was sitting on the floor a couple feet away from Dylan as he pulled himself up on his trunk like he's done dozens of times before, when 286 days of accident free living suddenly ended. Dylan lost his footing and smashed his face on the edge of the trunk as he fell to the ground. By the sound of the impact I knew it was a bad fall so I immediately swooped him up and brought him close to my chest as he screamed and cried in agony. I looked at his face to assess the damage and all I saw was blood, bloody blood everywhere, pouring out of his mouth. I raced to the kitchen to get something to stop the bleeding and then checked whether his two teeth were knocked out. They weren't (thank God), but his tongue was cut. 

In a state of bloody red panic I frantically called my husband but have no idea what I said. Dylan stopped crying within a minute and after soaking my sweatshirt, his onesie and a small towel, the bleeding stopped too. His cut didn't warrant a trip to the emergency room so I sat in shock with Dylan in my lap facing me, both burnt out on adrenaline and trauma. We looked at each other and  hugged, silently agreeing that the experience was too close for comfort.

I did what any other parent would do and spent the rest of the day giving him extra loving and attention. I feel absolutely terrible that Dylan hurt himself on my watch but I'm also relieved that I was there to jump into action. He seems to be fine but I'm still a bit shaken up.....I'm sorry Dizbaby! What a Monday.

Dylan Can Wave! And Detect Bullshit.

I always feel a sense of accomplishment when Dylan learns how to do something that he's been taught so please allow me to proudly inform all readers that I officially have a waver! My little big boy not only claps when I say "yay!" but he will wave when greeted. In the big scheme of things it is a small accomplishment but to momma bear it is worthy of headlining the Zepeda family newsletter. I'm all about teaching Dizbaby new "tricks" and I regularly scout the internet for all types of ways I can encourage his development. My pursuit in topping the hand wave led me to a study from 2011 involving babies and swindling. The conclusion is that babies remember when you're a bullshitter and will avoid imitating your behavior. WHOA!

Basically the study took 60 babies between 13-16 months of age and divided them into two groups, "reliable" and "unreliable." In the reliable group, an adult acted very enthusiastically about opening a box and then gave the box to the baby only for them to find it contained a toy. The unreliable group again had an enthusiastic adult opening a box then gave it to baby whom discovered that there was absolutely nothing to be enthusiastic about because the box was empty. The babies in their respective groups then watched the reliable adult use their head (opposed to their hands) to activate a push-on light and 61% of the babies imitated the adult's behavior. But when the unreliable group watched the unreliable adult do the same thing, only 34% of the babies gave the push-on switch a shot.

In conclusion, your reliability will be held against you. So if we want our babies, kids, or anyone to take us seriously and learn from us, we better lead by example...which really comes as no surprise.  

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Boys And Their Cars

It's frustrating to be frustrated, ask anyone. But sometimes a little irritation is exactly what we need to get things rolling. Back in the day Dylan’s sworn enemy was tummy time. He would wiggle and squirm, using all of his might to flip onto his back. The more frustrated he became the more progress he would make. I wanted so badly to turn over for him that I would lie on the ground and repeatedly roll over like a dog in an effort to show him how it's done. My tactics didn't work but his perseverance did and now days he's a roll master who has shifted his frustration to a new challenge: the toy car. 

Though he always forgets it, he hates that dang toy. At first he is enticed with its smooth mobility when I show him how it rolls on its wheels, but once he has the car to himself he remembers how evil it is. He hasn’t figured out how to make the car roll on his own, nor can he get a good grip on it. The poor kid will spend ten minutes crawling after the toy, inadvertently pushing it further away with his fingertips each time he reaches out. And when he finally does get the car in his hands, he’s sick of crawling and pissed off that it doesn’t roll steadily and tosses it aside only to begin the chase all over again. The whole cycle is frustrating but sorry son, if you wanna roll like a boss you gotta work through it. I mean- at least he’s perfected the high-speed floor crawl...right?  

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Fat Baby Dream Crusher

When strangers approach me to dote on the cuteness that is Dizbaby, "how old is he?" tends to be one of the first things they ask. Their eyes widen when I tell them his age and then we both laugh at what a big boy I have. Yes, I know- he is humungo-jumbo. Though my son looks large enough to compete in a decathlon, he isn't even old enough to walk. So for weeks I have been looking forward to his 9 month check-up with his doctor where I imagined Dylan would break the scale during his weigh-in, vanquish all growth percentiles, and be hailed King by size, a reputation and title he would hold for life. 

Instead, he weighed a measly 22lbs and is only heavier than 83% of other babies his age. Sure he's still "big", but I figure if my back must suffer from lugging him around everywhere, he might as well go all the way with it and break that freaking scale. And though my dreams of having the biggest baby in the world have been crushed, I am still a proud momma. Dylan's healthy, he's happy, and most of all he is mine mine mine!

P.S. There's only TWO DAYS LEFT! Don't forget to enter my $50 Lace & Arrows credit giveaway featured here!