Gratefulness and Blueberries

Someone asked me recently how I deal with the stress of this economy. This post isn't about Sam. Not directly anyway. It's about how I am so grateful that neither Sam nor I are part of the following statistics:

BEFORE this recession started over a year ago, there were 37 million people in our country living in poverty. According to UNICEF 25,000 children die around the world EACH DAY as a result of living in poverty. 72 million school age children around the world are not in school, and 57 percent of them are girls. Nearly a billion people on our planet cannot read. 40 million people are living with AIDS or HIV. Every year there are 500 million new cases of malaria with a million fatalities. 1.1 billion people do not have access to suitable, clean drinking water. Out of the 2.2 billion children on this planet, 1 billion (that's every other child) lives in poverty. 640 million of them do not have adequate shelter. 400 million do not have access to safe water. 270 million of them have no access to health services.

I am not saying that the things we're all dealing with now aren't stressful or difficult. I'm just saying that the way that I deal with it is to think of how incredibly lucky I really am, how fortunate I am that neither Sam nor I will ever become one of these statistics.

I also deal with stress by watching Sam eat blueberries.

Sam's new favorite food---frozen blueberries

Anup Shah, Poverty Facts and Stats, GlobalIssues.org, Last updated: Sunday, March 22, 2009

Sam's New Sport

Any idea what this is? A few weeks ago Sam's obsession with balls of every size morphed into a new obsession... hitting the balls around the house with a wooden spoon from the kitchen.





Is this golf? Baseball? This weekend when I told Jamie (his daycare provider) about it, she explained it. Any guesses?

The Season of Broken Faces

I don't remember the details but the punchline sticks in my mind... so much so, in fact, that it came immediately to mind this weekend when I saw blood running out of my son's split lip. I don't remember how old I was or how it happened, but there's a family story of my dad coming into the house and saying "Therese, she broke her face." We were living in Kalamazoo, and I was one of those little girls that was always covered with dirt. There are photos albums full of me in white t-shirts smeared with grass stains and clay, my fingernails caked with black dirt. I really don't remember ever falling but I do remember dozens of stubbed toes and skinned knees and the way my mother always put me back together again.


Sam goes outside at his daycare nearly every day. Even when it's cold Jamie bundles the kids up, and Sam doesn't notice the chill as he's fascinated with the big boys who hit baseballs and ride skateboards and climb trees and slide down snowbanks. But this weekend he and I both got our first taste of hanging out in the yard together. He walked rather hesitantly on the wooden deck, not sure of the strange feel under his feet. He grabbed hold of the still-frozen green hose wound into a circle like a snake against the back of the house. He picked up rocks from the side of the driveway and tasted them before tossing them into a pile. He pointed to the tall swaying ornamental grass that he can see from inside the house and made noises of excitement. And he ran. And ran. And ran.

And with all the fun comes the falling and the stubbing of toes and the skinning of knees. Sunday it was cool in the shade so Sam was bundled up in protective of layers of fleece, but he still managed to surprise both of us. The first time he fell he tripped onto the garage floor and split his lip and blood poured onto his sweatshirt. The second time his face collided with the driveway as he ran to pick up a rock, and his face melted into tears. I picked him up and held him tight as the tears mixed with the blood running out of his nose, and I thought of my parents and the years they chased me around, balancing my need to run with their desire to keep me from breaking my face.


And so it begins for Sam and me.

How Quickly They Grow Up

The last time we visited the DeGraves at their house, Sam still wasn't eating solids and I still wasn't getting much sleep. What a difference a year makes. Sam was awake for most of the 3-hour drive there, but he laughed and sang and hardly fussed at all. And when we arrived, despite some initial leg-hugging shyness, he warmed right up to the family that has been my second family for the last 20 years. As always Kelly and Brian and I had lots of great food and wine and music and meaningful discussions, but all 3 of the boys have changed. Most of the weekend was spent rotating the responsibility of the little boy as he circled the island kitchen and chased his spiderman ball and threw his new lego-like building blocks and raced into the family room to watch the big boys play video games. The little DeGraves that used to play board games with us have been replaced by tall, lean teenagers who were off having lives of their own that include girls and sports and texting. Kelly and Brian and I talked about how quickly the time has gone, how it seems like just yesterday when Zack was the one throwing his toys across the room and putting his hands up in the air for Brian to pick him up. As the DeGrave boys came and went, little Sam sat by my side and enjoyed the spread of delicious gourmet snacks and attention from all the big people until he fell into bed exhausted every night, sleeping soundly with his butt in the air and his pacifier on the bed next to him.

A lot has changed but a lot has stayed the same, and as always, I am so grateful for the friendship I've shared with Kelly and Brian and their entire family over the years. How wonderful it is to share my little man with them (and vice versa). Here are a few pictures of our weekend.

Sam's Feline Friends

Dagny and Sam enjoy the winter sunshine

They've been living in the basement since I brought Sam home from the hospital. But about a month ago when Sam started to show signs of needing a playmate other than me (okay, okay, I needed Sam to have a playmate other than me), I decided it was time they were allowed run of the house again. Since then we've discovered that one of them isn't so healthy, but she's hanging in there, and despite her previous instinct to hiss at little boys, Dagny and Sam seem to be friends. Or maybe they all just tolerate each other.

Dagny and Sam are both interested in the mouse

Dagny, why are you hiding?

Here's a video showing how gently Sam can pet the kitties and another video showing that they have at least one common interest other than mice.

My Little Basketball Player

Sammy's Grandma

Sammy Loves his Grandma TT

One of my favorite things in life is watching my mother and son together, the way they don't need language to communicate, the way they delight in each other's presence, the way one of them leaving the room can cause the other to change their posture or facial expression. When TT arrived Friday evening, Sam was snapped into his high chair smearing mixed veggies all over himself and the tray, intentionally dropping syrupy mandarin oranges onto the kitchen floor. He was unhappy and he was letting me know it. But as soon as he saw TT's face in the corner of the entry way, his eyes got big and a smile expanded across his face, and he reached out his index finger to point to her.

TT makes dinner fun

The weekend went way too fast, but every weekend that Sammy spends with his grandma brings joy and delight to our house. Cries of "Yay!" with each basketball shot made, giggles and squeals as TT picks Sammy up and helps him climb the back of the couch. Music and laughter and hugs. Running and crawling and wrestling. Sammy clings to grandma's legs, and when she goes to the kitchen to grab a drink of fresca from the refrigerator, his little feet pad along behind her. "Wait for me, Grandma," you can almost hear in the gibberish coming out of his face. When TT went to take a shower Saturday morning, leaving him behind in the hallway and closing the bedroom door, his face melted into a mess of tears until she came back out to reassure him.

Oh, how he adores his grandma.

And having her around allowed me to accomplish some things, including two milestones... turning the car seat to face forward (after having a near meltdown trying to find the tether anchors which are in the ceiling on a subaru outback) and giving Sammy his first haircut--f cutting a few layers into his bangs and around his ears can be called a haircut.

Sam's First Trim

TT left right after lunch, and this afternoon Sam has been walking around a little slower, frequently looking back over his shoulder, peeking around walls and doorways as if he is sure that she is right around the corner waiting to smile at him or make a funny face or a funny sound or push her hair into the flesh of his belly and make him laugh. "Are you looking for TT?" I ask and his eyes perk up. "She went bye-bye," I remind him. But I don't think he believes me, and I find myself looking forward to her next visit.

Walking!!!

Ten steps tonight. Towards me, not away from me. This is important, as I'm sure so many of you parents know that being a parent is about watching them move away from you over and over as they grow. My little man. First 3-4 steps a couple weeks ago. Then 5-6 last week. Then standing up without holding on to anything and walking 7-8 steps. Tonight he consistently walked at least 10 steps without falling down, oftentimes while carrying his new favorite toy, the big Spiderman ball. When he's not trying to walk with it, he looks towards the ceiling and puts the ball on top of his nose and tries to push it skyward with his face. Somehow he thinks this is how Mommy makes the ball go up in the air.

My little man is walking.

Oh my.

(Pictures and video coming soon.)