Four For the Price of One

So, this post is about a video. And truthfully, it's a video that will be most appreciated by proud grandparents, but I just have to share it with you all. Baby Zog was a fountain of tricks and knowledge tonight. He finally conquered climbing onto the sofa on his own (we'll blame the short legs he inherited from Grandma Donna for the delay in that milestone). He also has started counting, attempting to sing the alphabet song and, well, just singing in general. Often. Loudly.

If you are familiar with the lyrics to the ABC song and Twinkle, Twinkle Little Star, AND you are fluent in "toddler speak" you should be able to understand most of what he's singing. He's my favorite soloist.

So I present to you the video I have dubbed: Four For the Price of One - Couch, Numbers, Letters, Songs. Click here to enjoy the video.

Southern Moon

At some point in the life of most toddlers the famous book "Goodnight Moon" will enter the picture. We were given about 27 copies of this book when I was pregnant and honestly, I never thought it was all that great. So, as the universe would have it, of course Baby Zog LOVES to read the book he affectionately refers to simply as "Moon" every night before bed.

But tonight, I thought it WAS all that great and here's why: If you'll look in the photo above, you'll see on the table what is repeatedly referred to in the book as "a bowl full of mush." My sweet boy pointed at this bowl full of mush on the first page tonight, turned his head to look at me and said, "I see grits!" Oh how my southern heart swelled! Of course you see grits son, of course you do.

The best part is that he said, "I see grits, I see grits" (which sounds more like "I see gits") throughout the entire book. He must have said it twenty times. Every time that bowl full of mush showed up, my boy was ready to proclaim his excitement for one of his favorite foods. Meanwhile, I think I have a new favorite book.

Mom Zog Update

Please accept my apologies for my long absence from the blogosphere. I am - for those of you who don't know - a working woman once again, and boy am I busy. Many readers of this blog know the story, so here is a quick rundown for those of you who don't know. I'll steal a page from my dear friend Matt's recent blog post and just list some stats:

Day told my position at SPC was being "eliminated": November 19, 2008

Last day of work at SPC: December 20, 2009 (after 9.5 years with them)

Number of hours spent at the Unemployment office: 3 (not too bad really)

Number of networking groups/sessions attended weekly during job search: at least 3

Number of new people met in the job search process: over 150

Number of months spent without a single interview: 5 long ones

Number of companies that eventually interviewed me: 2

Number of positions I was ultimately offered: 2

Day I started my new job: June 2, 2009

So, in the end, I was offered two very different, but very good positions. One at a bank; one at an ad agency. Ultimately, work/life balance desires won me over to the bank. I just couldn't bear the idea of late nights, some weekends, and business traveling right now. I would miss things like the photo above or afternoons like this. With the bank, I am done every day at 5:00 and pulling into the parking lot at Baby Zog's daycare by 5:20. God is good.

It feels great to be working again. The compensation is not as good as my last position with SPC, so the purse strings are still a little tight, but living without the fear feels so good. I am settling into my Business Development position at the bank and think I'm going to find it to be exciting and rewarding. I couldn't ask for better coworkers at this small, privately owned bank with only four branches and 60 employees. It's an enjoyable environment and so far, I wake up ready to go to work. I'm learning to "be a banker" pretty quickly and feel more confident everyday.

Thanks for the prayers, emails, thoughts, and resume passing over the last six months. This experience has taught me so much about expectations, best laid plans, attitude, perseverance, the goodness of strangers, and the grace of God. I'm sure you'll hear more about it from me in the coming months as I process everything, but for now, as I said, God is good and I am happy.

No Big Whoop

Despite my occasional browsing of celebrity tabloids, my new obsession with Tori Spelling's reality show, the one time I operated the rice steamer with no water in the appliance, and a recent loss of my cell phone in my own home, I am a reasonably intelligent woman. I KNOW toddlers go through phases that they neither initiate nor choose. They are toddlers. They know not what they do.

I have loved Baby Zog from the moment the little stick showed a + sign. He is part of me, grew in me, makes my faces, has my big brown eyes, yada, yada, yada. He might not know it yet, but he loves me. At this point in his innocent life, he doesn't know he has a choice not to love me (bonus for me!). This I know. Remember, I am a reasonably intelligent woman.

However, I am also a first time mom. And lately, this means it's my first time experiencing the "daddy infatuation phase." Boy oh boy is Baby Zog in that phase. When I gather him up from school, he runs to me, looks around, and says, "Daddy?" This afternoon, while I was at aerobics he had an hour of true two-year old tantrums and bouts of will against his father, and yet, when I picked him up for a hug, he cried for Daddy (seriously, Daddy hasn't given you your way for an hour and you still prefer him?)

The one that really hurt was at bedtime. I'm fortunate that - for the moment - his love for books is strong enough that he'll overlook me as the reader. We finished Polar Bear Polar Bear, Good Night Moon, Hippos Go Bezerk, Chugga-Chugga Choo Choo, and Doggies. All was well. I put him softly down into his crib, tucked him in with his beloved Ernie and he looked up at me and said, "Night, night Daddy."

"No buddy, I'm mommy," I said, curious about his memory lapse. "Can you say night night Mommy?"

He looked up at me, shook his head furiously and said, "No? No. Night Night Daddy!"

So now, I am a reasonably intelligent woman with a bruised ego. I'm resisting the urge to take it personally becuase I know the "mommy phase" must surely be coming soon.

Dancin' Man

Enjoy a recent compilation of our man in motion! Click here.

Professor Daddy Zog

If you are a follower of this blog, you know chances are good when you log on (or check your RSS feed) that the newest blog post will be about the merry adventures of Baby Zog.

However, there are two other Zogs living here in Zogland and I am particularly proud to be married to one of them!

Daddy Zog had quite a month. He finished his first year of the PhD Program (with flying colors), got accepted to three academic conferences (and counting), and is now teaching summer school Media Law - mostly to juniors and seniors who failed previously or just haaaaadddd to take it in the summer.

The best news related to all the above is that we have Daddy Zog back! The photo above is my proof. Exhibit A: Daddy Zog holding Baby Zog and Baby Zog's best bud (a.k.a. 56 lbs of baby) at a Blue Grass festival last weekend. We went out as a family and enjoyed ourselves! No studying or paper writing for Daddy Zog. No Mommy and Baby Zog wandering around Target on our own to kill time so Daddy can type in peace at home. We are very happy to have him back. And Mommy is happy to have him return to household chores that he excels in such as dishwasher unloading and garbage collecting.

WE ARE PROUD OF YOU!!!

Opposites

Since the day we started reading to Baby Zog my mom has told me that one day soon he'll begin to memorize the books and we'll think he's brilliant for "reading" at a young age. Well, the day has come. Forget what mom says, he IS brilliant and I'm certain that he has the ability to read (and not just the ability to memorize what word comes next based on the pictures in the book.) :)

Here is a video of Baby Zog and his daddy "reading" his opposites book. Each page features two words that are opposites.

Now that he's mastered reading, I guess we'll start teaching him physics.

Enjoy!

6:45 p.m.

Since all of our family members live out of state, sometimes I like to video tape a little bit of "normal life" here in Zogland. So, here is a video of this evening - post dinner, pre bath. Baby Zog has been quite chatty this week and it's pretty amusing.

Click here to enjoy!

Mother's Day

Between the ongoing Ernie passion, a newly formed attachment to his Daddy and fascination with his visiting Papa, Baby Zog's affection is spread thin these days and I wasn't very optimistic for a large helping of it on Mother's Day. But, I was pleasantly surprised. We enjoyed gifts (for me), book reading (to him), a trip to TCBY and a yummy Mexican Dinner. I even got this great photo out of him!





Also, my sister and her sweet baby Josie were in town so we were able to share her first Mother's Day with her over a lovely brunch that Josie slept peacefully through - snuggled next to her mommy in a sling. We are two blessed girls - loving husbands and beautiful children. What a great celebration!

MY JOY

Once again, my joy is sweet Baby Zog. I love his undying devotion to Ernie (seen here tucked under his arm). And I love watching him learn and love new things. In this case, it is sidewalk chalk which our friend - and Baby Zog's main squeeze - Laura brought over last week. It brings me joy to see him reach for it and say, "Chalk? Chalk?" and then run to the door to go outside. Happy, happy Mother's Day!

Further Ernie Evidence

Every morning, Baby Zog wakes up around 7:30 a.m. and plays with the toys and books in his crib. This play usually results in everything in the crib being triumphantly tossed to the floor. When he runs out of toy entertainment, we hear, "Mooommmyyyy. Daaaadddyy," through the monitor and drag ourselves out of bed and up the stairs.

But this morning, I opened his door and couldn't help but laugh. As usual, all the "friends" in his bed were on the floor -- save one. Look in Baby Zog's hand. See who was saved from the brutal toy tossing?

I looked at him playfully and said, "Why don't you throw Ernie down there with everyone else?" Based on the reply look he shot me, clearly I have lost my mind and was talking complete nonsense that didn't even dignify a verbal response.

So I ran and grabbed the camera.

Attachment

For 18 months now I have been amused by and somewhat boastful of the fact that Baby Zog hasn't formed an attachment to anything. He never really took to a pacifier. He was never attached to his bottles and giving them up was not a problem at all. He welcomes new people to play with. He has favorite books, but will read all of them. There is no blankie, no lovey, no woobie.

UNTIL NOW.

The family Zog has a fourth member and his name is Ernie. He goes everywhere with us, eats our food, slides down our slide and tries to jump into our bathtub. If he is not with us at Whole Foods, Baby Zog loses...his...mind.

As I type this, Baby Zog is frantically pacing the house with a concerned note to his voice saying, "Ernie? Ernie?" (Don't worry, I know where Ernie is - under the kitchen table where Baby Zog left him about 30 seconds ago.)

I actually find it sweet that he's in love with Ernie. I just fear the day we lose Ernie....

Mommy Tricks

Here is what I learned last night:
If you offer Baby Zog a honey sandwich on whole wheat and say, "Here buddy, want to eat your sandwich?" he will run away, shake his head and say, "No. No."

But if you offer Baby Zog the same honey sandwich on whole wheat (the very next second) and say, "Here buddy, cookie," he will open his mouth for the first bite and proceed to take down the whole thing saying, "Cookie. Yummy," over and over again.

Hmm...I am a smart mommy.

April photos are posted over in the photo album section to the left. Enjoy!

Random Rant

Parents, please teach your children proper elevator etiquette so when they are all grown up, they will be polite citizens. There are too many uninformed adults out there. (I'm giving the the benefit of the doubt by assuming they just don't know better.)

Let's review: When you enter an elevator, you allow the people exiting the elevator to get off BEFORE you push your way on.

Doh'

I KNEW this would happen! For many months now we have been attempting to avoid saying certain words around Baby Zog. Of course, we don't use the common four-letter varies, but we're also trying to avoid words that children should not use like "shut-up," "mine," etc.

So yesterday morning, we were dressing Baby Zog and I said, "Should we wear these shoes with this outfit or does Daddy think that will look stupid?" Of course, I said it more to Daddy Zog to get his opinion, but regardless, I said it.

Baby Zog looked at me, curiously cocked his head and said, "Daddy? Stupid?"

Argh! Bad Mommy. Bad. Bad.

18 month check up

18th Month Stats:
Height: 34 inches (91%)
Weight: 26.25 lbs (56%)
Head: 18.7 inches (42%)

In the last four months, his weight has gone from the 83rd percentile down to the 56th. We were a little worried about that, but the doctor says it's totally normal. He's just getting tall and skinny. He grew nearly two inches in the last two months. I understand where he gets the "tall" from, but not sure how the boy wound up with "skinny!"

All in all a good visit with a very well behaved 18 month-old, although he is still fighting a sinus/ear thing he's had for a month now. The doctor finally decided she thinks allergies could be the culprit, so in addition to starting the THIRD antibiotic he's been on this month, Baby Zog is now also taking Zyrtec daily. We hope this will help. Poor boy.

MY JOY

This will be a first for Zogland, but I've decided to start a reoccurring post. I'm going to call it MY JOY. I can tell you it will be simple, as the most joyful things in my life are simple. I can also guess that about 95% of the posts will have to do with Baby Zog as he is the ultimate characterization of my joy. I remember hearing a Sunday school teacher once say that happiness was outward; joy was inward. I like that.

So, here is MY JOY, the first post:
I love this photo taken last Sunday before church. First, we were surprised by this lovely Azalea bush in our front yard (see, we know nothing about plants, so until the flowers popped out, we'd never really noticed this bush.) Second, check out Baby Zog's eyelashes. I remember holding him when he was mere hours old and falling in love with those eyelashes. Next, his hair. Of course it's awesome and curly and unruly. How can it not bring joy?

If you'd like to leave a comment and tell me what brings you joy, I'd love to read them. Grown up life can get us down (see yesterday's post), but the sun rises the next day and the choice is mine anew. I'm going to find joy...and hopefully a job too!

Grown Ups

I was nearly six when my baby sister arrived. For me, it meant a weekday sleepover at my friend Laura's house and a baby living in the empty room at home. I was unaware of impact on my parent's lives - the new responsibility, love, and fear.

For 9th grade, I left my private school and went to public school. Some financial reason was the culprit, but I realized some buddies were headed there too, and was satisfied. I'm certain if you asked my parents how the summer of 1991 treated them, they would recall more details.

I once remember my mother being upset when a friend passed away. However, she still cooked dinner, read me a story, and took me to school. All was well.

The summer of my 15th year, my mom had back surgery. I was away on a trip at the time. I returned home and mom was walking again. No big deal.

When I was 20, my dad had to fly out west to handle the division of his father's estate after his passing. I had not been close to my grandfather and since the trip didn't affect my collegiate activities, this is all I can tell you about it.

When did hardships and tragedies stop being things that happen to our parents and start being things that happen to us? I've become a grown up, and it's hard. All of a sudden it's ME who is out of work and wondering how to keep my kid in school. It's MY friends who are fighting for their lives against cancer. Its MY generation who have to pace waiting room floors while their children undergo operations. It's people MY age who deal with injuries that keep them from emotional and physical happiness. I'M the one who pours over financial documents and then smiles and makes grilled cheese for dinner while singing the ABC song.

I haven't sorted what this means to me, but lately I've realized that things I was always sheltered from are now mine to endure as well. I was duped into thinking "becoming your parents" meant twirling your glasses in that funny way like your dad does (yes, I do this) or scraping your plate with your fork like your mom does (not yet doing this.) I'm starting to clue in that it's so much more than that.

So here I am. No turning back! Onward we press, etc. There is no choice but to embrace the small things that bring me joy (such as Baby Zog), work damn hard to make a happy life for my family, keep positive, and say lots of prayers. I want to be the best grown up I can be, not only for those I love, but for myself. I can do this. I can handle this. I can deal.

Right?

Love at First Sight

I finally got to meet my new perfect niece last week. I went and spent five days getting to know her and helping her mommy and daddy around the house. I even helped her mommy with Josie's first outing to a very important place in any girl's life: Target. Given that she is seemingly a perfect newborn and a champion sleeper, they really didn't need that much help. But it was a great visit anyway and I am totally in love. I can't wait for Baby Zog to meet her and love her too.

Baby Josie looks cute when she yawns, don't you think? I can't believe she'll be a month old this Thursday. Of course, I can't believe Baby Zog is eating strawberries with a fork as I type this. Funny thing about time: it's gone as soon as it arrives.

EASTER

Easter 2008 versus Easter 2009. Is it possible that only 12 months have passed? (Hmm...and he's still being outfitted with sweater vests purchased by his Sitti. Maybe someday we'll be able to afford new clothes on our own. In the meantime - THANK YOU SITTI!)

Easter morning got off to a discouraging start. Baby Zog woke up with a very swollen right eyelid. A call to the nurse concluded it's probably a bite of some kind. So we pressed on and donned our Easter best (sans bonnets) and headed to church where Baby Zog promptly got his entire right hand stuck in an elevator door. Seriously? Yep. Thankfully, the hand seemed okay, and he was content in the nursery a few minutes later. Meanwhile I'm left thinking, "Can we please just have one day -- really I'd prefer a whole week -- where he isn't sick or hurt in someway?" This is one of those infamous things about parenthood for which you can never prepare. The constant worry followed by feeling like you are always being "kicked when you're down." Daddy Zog and I were feeling pretty blue.

But the sun's glorious rays were touching my skin and the service touched my heart. I was reminded through beautiful music, moving words, and quiet prayers of the power of the Resurrection and the promises it holds for me --and for my small son, swollen eye and hand in all. No matter what you believe, I hope you too were uplifted in some way this beautiful Sunday morning.

We concluded our festivities with some friends who joined us for brunch and an Egg Hunt in our front yard. For an 18-month-old, Baby Zog seemed to understand hunting eggs. Maybe next year we'll actually hide them.