Bye Bye Mullet

Unfortunately, I seemed to have passed on my thin, fine, curly hair to Emerson. As his hair grew into the inevitable "baby mullet," my dreams of the long-haired hippie child disappeared - I wanted a clean-cut kid and I wanted him now! It's not that the long, angelic-like white curls weren't adorable, it's just that they only stayed that way for about 5 minutes after brushing them. It takes very little perspiration combined with a winter's hat to create a fuzzy rat's nest when you have hair like ours.

Besides, I was afraid if I let it keep growing, he might someday soon look like this kid:


So, I begged and argued with Robbie and eventually wore him down. And thus we went for our first major haircut at a salon (my mom did the first trim, but she is back in Utah...and Robbie can attest for the fact that blades and hair are not a good combo for me). Emerson did surprisingly well and in no time my black sweater was covered in a white haze. I was so amazed by how well it went I bundled us back up and walked out the door without even paying! Luckily, they didn't notice until I came stumbling back in the door an hour later, apologizing profusely.

The end result was not all that unique, but at least clean cut:

Introducing Mean Mommy

We survived January. For those of you who might not know, I have to spend the entire month of January every year in Chicago for intensive classes. I had been working my stomach into knots over this for months because this time Emerson stayed home. It was just too much to ask my parents or Robbie to entertain a one-year-old in a studio apartment for 4 weeks.

I stressed about weaning him in time (especially when one of my psychology textbooks casually mentioned that improper weaning could be the most traumatic experience of a person's life - no pressure there), I worried about how he would react being away from me that long, and I worried about how we could accomplish all the things we needed to work on with him (teaching him to walk, getting him in the crib at night, getting him to wear his glasses, etc.). And of course because I stressed so much, everything went perfectly.

Weaning happened over Christmas break in Utah - we just kept passing him around and my family took turns giving him a bottle. The boy who was nursing 30x a day went completely to bottles in 2 weeks without even realizing it! When we got back to Michigan, we had one day to unpack, clean and repack before heading off to Chicago as a family. Robbie and Emerson spent the first four days with me and then took the bus back to Michigan. As I watched them pulling away and saw Emerson's tiny hand pressed up against the window, my heart broke. I cried as I waved goodbye, I cried when Robbie's text message telling me everything would be great popped up a few minutes later, I cried during the cab ride all the way back to school. Luckily I chose a cab that was playing mournful jazz on the radio and the view was the lonely lakeshore against a blue-black sky - it matched my mood perfectly.

After a couple of days, the sadness lessened and I was able to enjoy being a full-time student in Hyde Park. It was so nice to be around my like-minded classmates, to have endless intense adult discussions (no patty cake here), and most of all, be able to focus on only one thing at a time! I had also been looking forward to a whole month of good sleep without Emerson around, but my apartment building conspired against me. Between the traffic outside and neighbors who indulged in "relations" on a creaky bed at all hours of the night EVERY night, I was more sleep deprived than ever.

Of course, being in Hyde Park lent itself to many interesting encounters throughout the month. One of my favorites was when I was coming out of my aparment and a mentally disabled man was just coming in. We struck up a conversation and he told me he had lived in this building for over 10 years. Then he proceeded to pull out a small metal flute from his pocket and play a Christmas Carol. When he finished, he asked if anyone in my family took music lessons and I told him no- we thoroughly lacked musical talent. He said we should take lessons and always carry a small instrument with us "so you can bring music to people wherever you go."

Another encounter was at the local co-op grocery store that was closing down. Despite being several blocks away, I ventured over hoping that their close-out prices would be better than the mugging I was getting at the tiny markets by my apartment. It was an eerie feeling to shop in this large grocery store with only one or two random items scattered on the shelves. It was almost post-apocalyptic. As I was scavenging through the hearts of palms and canned herring to find worthy deals, I struck up a conversation with an elderly African-American woman. She told me that the co-op was closing because the university wanted to clear room for a big chain grocery store that would lure people from downtown to Hyde Park. She told me how this store had started as a small group of community members trying to help each other out. And she told me how she herself had struggled as a young mother until she was able to start a co-op with the people in her neighborhood. "You have to fight against the man," she said fiercely, and I agreed.

Meanwhile, back in Michigan Emerson and Robbie were living it up. Robbie told me smugly that being a stay-at-home parent was so easy, so I left him a "to-do" list to accomplish in all his "spare time." I wasn't suprised when I came home for a visit that weekend and discovered that NOTHING on that list was done. He and Emerson spent the entire week together sleeping in, watching tv, and going out with our work-at-home friend across the street. I suppose if I could live that way, staying at home would seem pretty fun too!

That same weekend my parents flew in to take over baby duty for the final two weeks. My mom is a compulsive cleaner, so she asked me to leave a list of household duties in addition to suggestions for fun things to do around town. The five of us ate out and did some fun shopping together for the first two days, but when I went back to school, my mom got down to business. She organized cupboards, sewed torn clothes, repaired odds and ends, salvaged our houseplants, got Emerson onto a schedule, got him sleeping in his crib, got him to use his walker without crying, slyly guilted Robbie into accomplishing the many little tasks he was putting off - in short, she and my father accomplished more in two weeks around my house than we had accomplished in a year. I was grateful and humbled to say the least.

After they left, we had one day of normalcy before we all got sick and my mother's perfect schedule and hard work with Emerson went out the door. Let me tell you, if there is a hell, it is getting sick as a whole family and being stuck indoors for 2 weeks with nothing to do but watch television during a writers' strike. I am still trying to get over a twisted addiction to "Make Me a Supermodel."

The worst part was that Emerson was barely sleeping unless we held him in our arms and he ate almost no solids. We eventually all got better, but he was still deeply entrenched in some bad, bad habits. Then I went to a playdate last week with a friend who has a little girl that is equally dramatic and stubborn. I realized that if she can get her daugher to eat and sleep, I can do it with Emerson. Thus "Mean Mommy" was born.

After one 45-minute long scream session that first night, Emerson settled back into crib life and even slept 6 full hours one night (halleuia!). We cut down on the formula and increased his solids to three full meals a day (the trick was to mix everything with his favorite food - hummus), we started making him wear his glasses again, and I put him back into a mostly regular routine. I never thought I would like that word - routine - but motherhood has broken me down.

And so Mean Mommy trudges on...basking in the small victories and praying that she doesn't traumatize the child for life.

Albinism in the Media

My friend Mashawna created yet another moving and educational slideshow. Please pass it along!



Perception is Not Reality

What a Difference a Year Makes

Reason #45 why it sucks to have a birthday in December: Your birthday party can always get cancelled by a blizzard.

After suffering for years under the tyranny of a December birthday, I swore I would never, EVER have a baby in that month. And then there was Emerson....

This year we celebrated his big 1st birthday and we attempted to have a party for our Michigan clan on December 16. When we woke up that morning, however, we were greeted with 10-12 inches of blowing snow, a lot of unhappy phone calls to make, and a lot of extra food to eat before going out of town in only three days. I was disappointed after the work and money we put into pulling the party together, but at least Emerson didn't know the difference. We ended up spending the day visiting with friends who lived close by, eating cake, and then watching all the video we had made of Emerson throughout the past year - from the birth (it still makes me wince) to his first bites of solid food.

The video was bittersweet in many ways. It was fun to see him grow and change and do his adorable baby things, but it also brought back memories of how painful and frightening those first few months were. Although we still have struggles - the occassional rude stranger staring at us or our frustration as we try to get him caught up on milestones - but the worst of it is definitely over. In fact, we hardly even think about his vision any more! He is making eye contact, inspecting everything in sight, and generally acting like a normal (albeit extremely goofy) baby. I know his vision will become an issue again when he starts walking, but for now things are pretty darn good.

The most important thing is that Emerson gave me the only birthday present I asked for....he learned to crawl on all fours!!!! He started practicing on the 16th in front of our friends, but then took definitive steps forward the next day. When I saw him do it across the room, I danced around the room with him singing a triumphant "Hail to the Chief!" Now we can start working on walking. he he he

Anyway, we are in Utah now visiting family for the holidays. Emerson got a chance to have his own birthday party at last (it was technically a joint party for me, my sister and Emerson, but we all knew who the real star of the show was). Grandma went all out on the food and decorations as always, including getting a nice big cake for Emerson. He was a little scared of it and unfortunately refused to dig in, but he was more than happy to eat it off my fingers.

This time of year is always filled with birthdays and holidays for our family, but it also tends to be the time of year when emotional events happen. I won't regale you with the whole list, but suffice it to say that the past three have been particularly emotional.

Right before my birthday two years ago, we found out that our first pregnancy was ending in miscarriage. On Christmas Eve a week later, I had just undergone surgery due to the miscarriage and we were in Utah for our annual visit. My parents always work on Christmas Eve, so Robbie and I drove to our old church downtown for the midnight service. Before we even got there, the pain killers had worn off and I was doubled up in agony. We were meeting some friends there, so I told Robbie to go ahead while I tried to pull myself together in the bathroom. I ended up spending most of the time in the cold, tiled room listening to the service over the speakers. I did my best to imagine the beautiful, candle-filled sanctuary as the congregation sang carols and the velvet-voiced minister gave his holiday homily. Then he talked about how Christmas can bring up painful memories as well as happy ones. He ended by asking people to come up and light a candle for all those loved ones they had lost this year, so I imagined Robbie lighting a candle for our baby.

When we got into the car to go home afterward, I asked Robbie if he lit a candle and he said yes. I cried all the way home.

A year later during my birthday, I was in the midst of labor and wondering if I would ever meet this baby. When he was born early the next morning, the significance of the timing wasn't lost on me. We were all so, so grateful to finally have our baby. A few days later, we attended the Christmas Eve service in our home church. The minister stopped his homily to hold up the newborn Emerson for the whole congregation to see, but he slept peacefully and was completely oblivious to the "oohhs" and "aahhhs." When we sang "Silent Night," I looked down at him and cried.

This year during my birthday, I watched a much bigger Emerson try out his new crawling skills and jibber jabber away. A year ago it didn't seem real that I had a son, but even after all this time it still hasn't sunk in! Now it's Christmas Eve again and a thick blanket of snow has prevented us from going to midnight service. Instead, my baby is fast asleep in the next room and I am here getting all sentimental.

It's exciting and a little scary to think where we'll be this time next year and all the changes in store for us. But for now, I'm just grateful for how far we've come.

What happened to November?!!!

Ok, once again I apologize for letting time get away from me and for the lack of pictures. One of the reasons for the long hiatus was MORE computer problems, which also prevented us from doing much picture work lately (strangely, our computer was plagued by viruses soon after installing our new anti-virus software. Coincidence?) Anywho, here's my attempt at catch up and I promise more fun pictures and attempting-to-be-meaningful essays will come after I finish out the school semester.

The month of November started with my maternal grandmother passing away in Utah. She was 92 (would have been 93 today) and had health problems, so it wasn't unexpected....but still, she was one of those people you think will live forever. We had some wonderful memories together, so I was glad to have a chance to fly back there and speak at her funeral. Although it wasn't the greatest circumstances, I was ecstatic to see my family for a week and let them get some intense Emerson time.

More than anything, it was helpful for me to see how my family interacted with him and get some parenting tips from the pros. It's not that I don't have seasoned parents living around me here in Michigan, it's just that when I stay with my family in Utah, they get to see Emerson around the clock. For instance, my mom took control of the whole not-eating-solids situation right away. Using an expert blend of "distract with one hand and shovel it in with the other" techniques, she was able to get amazing amounts of food down him with no tears. In other words, an actual meal!

My mother, bless her, also took Emerson for a couple nights so I could get my first and only good night's rest in over 10 months! The only bad part was that I was so used to waking up constantly, I still woke myself up throughout the night out of habit. But at least each time I work up I could savor that intensely satisfying feeling of going back to sleep, stretched out on a bed I finally had all to myself. Oh, my cramped arms and legs ache just thinking about it....

One of the best parts about our trip was that it flipped a switch in Emerson and all of a sudden he took an intense interest in everything. He has been army crawling for a while now, but hasn't felt the need to explore much beyond getting from one toy to another. But in Utah he was inspecting the pattern of the couches, creeping over to stroke the plant, studying the lines of the wallpaper. When we got home, this new curiosity continued and he is now ALL over the house. (I've started calling him "my little professor" because when he's interested in something, he uses that little pointer finger to poke and prod while he stares at it with this intense, thoughtful look on his face.)

I know this stage causes a lot of headaches for most parents, but since he's behind in milestones, I'm ecstatic to have to keep a close eye on him as he takes off exploring. I actually find myself happy about the fact that he's figuring out how to open cupboards, attempting to stick his fingers in outlets (don't worry, they're covered), pulling dirt out of the potted plants, etc. He's also become obsessed with pulling himself up on everything. It still catches me off guard every time I turn my head for a second and then turn back to see him standing there with a little smirk on his face.

Anyway, after the excitement of the trip wore off, Emerson and I both came down with colds. They started out very minor, just a little ache here or a runny nose there. We were still able to spend Thanksgiving making the rounds with family, eating the most amazing gourmet dinner, and watching Emerson trick people into taking his hands and walking him all over the house (it's a complicated technique, but effective).

But by Friday were both officially sick and miserable. Emerson's never had anything beyond a minor stuffy nose, so seeing him get a fever and become a whining mess was the worst experience. I was also losing my voice just in time to deliver the sermon on Sunday, but luckily Robbie helped me recover it just in time.

Emerson did well during both services and - despite some technical hitches at first - my sermons went well. In fact, we had an amazing experience during the second service after a section on Native American oppression. I was just about to move on to the next topic when one of the congregants yelled out to me that a fox had emerged out of the woods behind our church. We all clustered by the side windows to watch this incredible animal walk toward the sanctuary, then stop and curl up in a ball in the sun while still watching us watching him. I was able to continue the service and incorporate the sighting into my sermon, and the fox continued staring at us as if he were listening intently. The simple gifts of life....

Unfortunately, with all the excitement of the day, Emerson and were going downhill again by the time we got home. He just wanted to nurse or sleep non-stop and we couldn't put him down for even a second. It became exhausting, literally draining for me, and heartbreaking. By Tuesday we finally got him into the doctor and discovered he had his first-ever ear infection! We felt horrible for not suspecting or doing something about it sooner, but he hadn't been pulling at his ears or crying like most babies.

The good news is, the doctor gave him a treatment plan to help him feel better quickly. The bad news is, the non-stop nursing and coddling have undone MONTHS of hard work that only recently got him to the point where we could put him down and he would usually go to sleep by himself, was only getting up twice a night for feedings, and was able to eat at least one meal of solids a day. Now we are back to square one again...heck, we are probably a few steps behind square one. Oi vay.

At least we have his personality back again. And what a personality it is! This child knows all about dramatics and how to use them get what he wants when he wants. He is also stubborn as hell, but I'll save that for an upcoming blog. The other day, I told Robbie as I was struggling with Emerson, "I've never wanted to strangle someone and kiss them at the same time...except with you of course."

And that's just it...he looks and acts just like his father. He goes around with this smirk on his face most of the time like he's up to something or he'll just sit there and laugh to himself with these deep chuckles. A couple of weeks ago, for instance, Robbie was holding him when he started to cry for me. As I held out my arms to take him, his tear-stained face immediately went from agony to his little smirk - as if to say, "suck-ah!!" The child is already a smart-ass and can't even talk!

I could go on about his antics, but since this post is already long and I'm starting to feel like Kathy Lee Gifford telling Cody stories, I'll stop here for now. December is already speeding by too fast and we've been plunged head-first into the holiday season and end of the semester. Not to mention my baby is turning one in less than two weeks! But I promise we'll post more soon.

In the meantime, Happy Holidays to all and to all a stiff drink.

Picture Update

Rather than tell you what we've been up to lately, we'll show you in pictures. There are more pictures from each event under the "8-10 months" label.

We got a visit from "Aunty" Julia:


Emerson got to participate in his first protest:


He played with his cousins during the Jennings' family reunion:


The old "Baby Posse" got together...first Colin came to visit:


Then Demani:


Emerson enjoyed the new outfit from Grandma:


He made his first visit to an apple cider mill:


Hung out with the pumpkins:


Then we carved our family of pumpkins:


Unfortunately, the neighborhood squirrels had their way with them:


Yes, the littlest pumpkin is white on purpose :)


We took a Fall walk when the weather finally got cold:


Emerson practiced his speaking skills:


And at the end of it all...we were exhausted:

Just the Two of Us

Right now Robbie is probably sipping a margarita on a private beach at his resort in Puerto Rico. The lucky bastard had to go down there for work and since the company isn’t near any decent towns, they are footing the bill for him to stay on a resort for the week. And here I am, eating a bagged salad and smelling like baby puke. Oh, the inhumanity!!

While we have many fun pictures to share as a way of showing what else we’ve been up to this past month, I am too tired, busy and frankly technologically impaired to load and compress the pictures myself. So while I await my darling’s return, I will just share a couple thoughts. I know, everyone has been begging “Baby Daddy” to share his wit again, but since he’s soaking up the sun, you get me instead.

First, we finally got Emerson going with his Early Intervention therapy. We started this process months ago, but the school district was having some…let’s call it “communication issues” among the various people involved, so we fell through the cracks. After making some calls, filling and refilling out paperwork, we got a formal evaluation at last.

It was sort of an intimidating process – Emerson sat in the middle of this playroom while a speech therapist, occupational therapist, physical therapist and coordinator (his visual therapist did hers separately) all interacted with him, observed him, observed me, and asked me questions. When they asked about an area that I knew he was behind in, it brought up a mix of emotions. On the one hand, it was good for me to talk about his delays as much as possible to ensure he gets the help he needs. But on the other hand, I couldn’t help but feel a little defensive and like a flunkie parent.

Don’t get me wrong, they were incredibly nice and helpful people, but when you get lectures about “tummy time” and people scribbling notes about everything you and your baby say and do, it can be disconcerting. I assume his delays are due to the albinism since many other parents of children with albinism have had similar struggles, but since we have no other non-albinism children of our own to compare to, I can’t help but wonder how much of it could be due to our parenting.

Add to the evaluation situation the fact that we were in a brightly lit room that bothered Emerson’s eyes, he was tired and close to nap time, and he is going through stranger anxiety - and you have a recipe for a recalcitrant baby who scrambled over to comfort nurse every five minutes. When we got the final report back at our home visit yesterday, I was surprised to find even the nursing sessions noted in each therapist’s report. Our coordinator explained that it wasn’t an admonishment, just a note to make sure I was “pushing” his tolerance further and further during future sessions.

I was also surprised that the delays they noted went even beyond what I had observed. The coordinator was quick to note that he hadn’t fallen extremely far back yet, but it was enough to warrant therapy. I agree and that is why I contacted them in the first place, but it was still hard to see it all in print.

Anyway, Emerson has already been making progress on his own lately, so I think the regular therapy sessions starting next week will give him a real boost. I think part of the reason I am feeling so vulnerable about it right now is that I just got back from another "playdate" with a fellow mom and her baby. I love these dates - it's a chance for me to connect with my friends, vent about parenting, and I think it's good for Emerson to be around other children. But it's always a little hard to see how our friends' kids are transforming into little toddlers while Emerson still seems so baby-ish. I know he'll catch up in no time, but it's hard to watch him getting left behind, trampled and otherwise manhandled by his more advanced compadres.

On a happier front, the Director of Religious Education at my church asked me to share one of my blogs last Sunday as part of a service on inclusiveness and tolerance. It was great to have the opportunity to educate people and I got a nice response. More than anything, however, I valued what I learned from the other people who spoke. We often think of tolerance about the way people look, but we rarely think about behavior and mental issues. One woman spoke about people's reactions to her two children, one with ADHD and the other with Asperger’s. Another woman talked about her son who was diagnosed with bipolar disorder as a teenager and how the acceptance he received from people at church during that time likely saved his life.

After all the speakers were done, the DRE gave a sermon on the topic. One of the things that spoke to me the most was a quote to the effect that we need to give parents a break and not always assume their children’s difficulties are due to poor parenting skills. It reminded me that however fragile and inadequate I feel as a parent from time to time, I still find myself judging other parents. I roll my eyes at the kid with out of control behavior and I wonder how I can avoid making the same mistake that his parents made. But in reality the parents could’ve done everything right and yet something else - something medical or psychological could be going on.

So here’s my parting bit of wisdom for the day. A developmental psychology textbook I’m reading for school right now noted that our Western culture (especially America) is unique for its strong emphasis on the role parents play in their children’s development. We assume if something is wrong with the child, the parents are to blame. Other cultures may see a parental role, but they also see how much environment, society, medical health and inherent personality play. It’s something to think about. Sure there are parents who screw their kids up, and I am undoubtedly going to be the subject of Emerson’s therapy sessions one day, but we all deserve the benefit of the doubt once in a while.