Welcome to Roman's Empire

Our Christmas Holiday - 2009

2009-12-31T20:40:00.014-05:00

My blogging went on a temporary hiatus as I lost my camera about a month back and had no way to put pics with Roman's random antics. Luckily, hubby saved the day with a new camera for Christmas - and a beaut at that! My Panasonic Lumix was the perfect gift to get me back on my p's and q's for 2010. (Does anyone know what that exactly means, anyway? P's and Q's, and why I should want to be on them? Oh well, I digress....

The big gift this year was definitely going to have to be something with trains, as my previous post eluded to Roman's new obsession with all things Thomas being almost more intense than his previous love of airplanes (though no mutually exclusive, of course). So we found a great Thomas the Train set called "Thomas and the Airport". It included trains, but also a helicopter pad, airplane runway, and even firetruck and ambulance. We figured that would hold him til he could decide whether he'd be a conductor or aviator.

After the train tracks were spotted, we opened a few more gifts (mainly trains for the set) and spent the morning playing with trains. By noon, Grandma Pat and Uncle John had shown up and round two of the gifts were done.

As he has for the last few years,

Maurice's Uncle John came down for a visit this Christmas and spent the better part of a week. Roman and Uncle John hit it off well, and the two were laughing in stitches in no time. Grandma followed the Thomas theme with books and pajamas and even a Thomas sheet set, all of which were a hit. The book became an instant classic which she had to read to him countless times before his nap.

And Nana and Da scored big with videos of Roman's fave show WordWorld. If you have little ones and have not yet gotten a glimpse of this PBS show, its well worth a look. I don't proport that all TV is okay for kids, but this one gets it right in my book. Its his 30min a day guilty pleasure. (Unless he's at Nana's, in which case he can guilt her into any amount of time he wants!)
Granny Ann knew the best way to Roman's heart was with his fave thing next to Thomas....letters. She got him these great letter puzzles, which he quickly devoured. (And unfortunately, quickly lost some letters to. Good thing she got two of each!

But the gift of the night came from Auntie Rhonda and Charles IV, who sent Roman a mat made of capital letters. If you have not yet seen my son's obsession with letters, words and pretty much anything of spelling, you won't get how excited he was. And I wish I had caught his reaction on tape. But the pics are worth a thousand words anyway.

After gifts, Roman took an nap and the ladies retired to the kitchen to start dinner. The menu wasn't intense, but it was filling. Roasted Cornish Hens, Caramelized Butternut Squash, Brussel Sprouts w Pancetta, Horseradish Scallopped Potatoes, Bacon wrapped Green Beans and Garlic Rolls. The food coma was almost immediate....but we did hold off long enough for Key Lime Pie and Carrot Cake :)

It was a rare occasion to have my Grandmother travel to Atlanta and made all the more special by having her on hand to see her Great Grandson open his gifts. After dinner, we took some pics to commemorate the event and everyone dispersed.

That next afternoon, we traveled to Conyers to Nana's house to see everyone again and get more time with Granny Ann. Roman stayed with them while Uncle John, Maurice and I went to see Up in the Air w/George Clooney (highly recommend, BTW). After we got back, Roman took a few more pics with Granny before she left the following day.

Getting a little stir-crazy and feeling the first temperatures above 40 degrees (and with Mama wanting to try out her new camera outdoors), we ventured to the park by our house to get some fresh air. This is our favorite park bc its usually pretty empty in the afternoon's when the kids leave from school, and they have playgrounds for each age range, so he can be the master of his domain. We hung out and Mama got to try her new camera angles, though I resigned myself to realizing that I still need PictureMommy to get great shots. Oh well....I can get there one day.

While I was glancing at these pictures and preparing this upload, I watched some of last year's videos and looked at pictures from his first Christmas and realized just how quickly time flies. And how fragile and delicate moments in life can be. I love the holidays, especially Christmas, if for no other reason than it presents to us a great opportunity to reflect, refresh and recommit our lives. In putting my little one to bed this Christmas season, each night I thanked God for the greatest gift He could have ever given me, and asked that he afford me another day to see His glory in this earth. I hope he does the same for you this Christmas season and blesses you with joy unspeakable joy in 2010. Merry Christmas and Happy New Year all!

With love from the Bosticks!

All Aboard the Choo-Choo Train

2009-11-23T22:00:00.006-05:00

Auntie Rhonda started Roman on his most recent craze – trains – when she bought him the heavily-rotated “Choo-Choo Soul” CD/DVD a year back. I never thought anything would surpass his love of airplanes, but I think trains may have actually done that as of late.

So it was a no-brainer when my co-worker called to tell me that the North Atlanta Trade Center was hosting their annual Train Expo, less than 5 miles from my house, no less. We went immediately after his afternoon nap and the trip did not disappoint.

I know there are people who have fetishes and preferences of all kinds, but it is always a little intimidating to me when I meet people like this. I mean, folks who have tattoos and brands of the object of their affection – in this case, trains. I saw grown men with tattoos of diesel engines and couples with matching conductor outfits right down to the striped overalls (which ALL look like Osh Kosh B’Gosh, no matter how old the person is who is wearing them).

But overall it was a great showcase of some pretty amazing trains. Model trains that ran through microscopic copies of rural towns to a small village set up with 2 ft long train cars. The favorite of the afternoon for the Bostick Family – an entire city made of Legos’, including a mechanical drawbridge and replica of the Georgia Dome. Yup – you heard me, the GA DOME!

The large-scale train set up was a hit too, mainly bc it was placed on the ground and Roman could watch without us holding him (a plus for all involved) and also bc the models were so large, I think he could have actually ridden them. Trust me, he tried a few times to get over that fence.

After we watched all types of trains and brought yet ANOTHER wooden Thomas, which will undoubtedly be lost between the cracks of the sofa or the underside of Mommy’s seat in the car, we headed home with a new found appreciation for trains and their fans.

A Family Affair - The Bostick Photo Shoot

2009-11-12T09:18:00.013-05:00

A Family Affair

Late last month, I finally got my act together and scheduled family pictures for the Bostick’s. Now, I know, most of you have seen hubby, Roman and I in multiple pictures I have taken over the last 19 months of Roman’s life, but I wanted something that was done a little more formally than with my 3 year old, dying digital cam. And I have a soft spot in my heart for well done pictures of a child – they are the easiest way to remember what I imagine are some of the best moments of your life as time moves by so fast.

So the idea of getting pictures done was initially easier than the actual feat. I perused websites and made calls and found that I was not the only one with the “bright idea” to try and schedule a sitting so close to the holidays. Either too expensive, too late or too exotic (one site had a baby dressed in full makeup and peacock feathers…..uh, yeah) I was almost going to give up when I got a recommendation from within one of my mommy groups for a woman who also had a toddler close to Roman’s age. They described her as “local, reasonably priced and very accommodating”. Three better phrases had not been uttered. Even better – it turned out the mommy/photog in question was the parent of one of Roman’s new classmates. Doesn’t get better than that! (Uh, yes, I know I have yet to post the blog about Roman’s new school…..don’t judge me, I’m a busy momma!)

P icture Mommy let me schedule a sitting, and then reschedule when the weather was crap all day, and ended up giving us a 2 hour session that I could not have been happier with. We picked a place that we thought would showcase Roman, which 2 months ago I would have said was Atlanta-Hartsfield Airport, but as of late has been….the train tracks. Yes, we have abandoned our love for 747’s for a new love of double T – Thomas the Train, that is. Doesn’t mean he doesn’t love a good airplane still (hence the tee) but given his preference nowadays, it looks like Amtrak over Airtran apparently.

P icture Mommy met us at a local, deserted track….or so we thought. We lucked up on finding a train sitting idle and got a few great pics there while Roman marveled at the much bigger version of his choo-choo friend. At some point, the train seemed to be “talking” to us, and made a couple of incriminating puffs, so we abandoned it and settled on the closed tracks, which suited Roman just fine.

Daddy joined us and we got to play around on all the things Roman had heard about but never seen up close – the trail switches, signals and more.

From there we headed to a park but never quite made it. We got caught up in the beauty that is Emory’s campus and spent our last hour enjoying green grass and silly faces.

I have to say that I was so impressed with Picture Mommy's professionalism, patience (if you know me, then you know how fast I move…and Roman makes me look sedentary!) and sense of fun. The pics were ready that evening and printed shortly thereafter. I couldn’t have been more thrilled.

Hopefully you enjoy our family pics – I am keeping some of the best for a possible holiday card, if I can ever get my act together. In the meantime, if you should be in the Atlanta area and need a great family photographer, I highly recommend Ms. Picture Mommy and her camera services. Nothing short of a great time!

Name that photo!

2009-09-19T21:43:00.004-04:00

Its a weekend evening and I have no time for a blog, but I HAD to share this school picture Roman took last week.

I could not stop laughing when I saw this adorable, but clearly "ham-tastic" photo my son took. My take was that he looked like a Vegas lounge singer looking to break in to a verse of Love Boat. Hubby thinks he's a stand up comedian starting his set. You decide it, but anyway you slice it, its funny!

A "Family" Affair

2009-09-15T13:11:00.023-04:00

So Maurice and I both come from pretty small families, which means Roman also has a pretty small, immediate family. Save for my brother (who lives in DC) and brother-in-law’s families, its not a big group when it comes to cousins for him. Which is why I love that, in addition to his biological cousins, two of my best friends have little boys that Roman will grow up being close with even though they aren't nearby.

The first is my girlfriend Rhonda, who’s son Charles is 6 months older than Roman. Charles has been, for a while, a measuring stick of sorts for Roman, who wears Charles' hand-me-downs, reads his book recommendations, watches his DVD favorites (Choo-Choo Soul is still a classic!) and generally lives by the advice that Charles’ mother and I hash out during our daily morning drive-talks. Charles turned 2 this September 7th, same b-day as the hubby, so I scheduled a trip to fly up to DC for his birthday bonanza to ensure the two have time together.

We flew in the day before to spend some QT with my brother’s kids, who each adore Roman and have had the chance to see him some in the last year due to travel both ways by us and them. (See pic from our house a few months back when they visited). They know Roman loves airplanes (by now, who DOESN’T?) and brought him a great plane that even makes noise and lights up. No explaination needed on his excitement.

Then we were off to the party that Saturday afternoon, but clearly unprepared for the “fun house” Charles’ mother had prepared for us. Why, you ask? B/c Rhonda’s Aunt Gail owns not one, not two, but THREE bounce houses! Yeah, this is the woman you want on your block as a kid. Roman was hesitant at first but took to the toys like a champ.

Later, it was time to cut cake and sing to Charles, but as you can….someone did NOT like their birthday hat.

Roman and Ethan had a blast on the push toys, with Roman trying to maneuver around his big cousin, who loved being the “bigger boy” for once.

The trip didn’t last long bc we had to head up to NY to see the newest addition to our “extended” family. BFF Janpeg and hubby Nic just had a bounding baby boy named Jackson James Steele this past August (the 6th, to be exact) and I could not wait to get up there and introduce Roman to his “little brother”. Instead of flying to NY, we decided to ride the evening train from Union Station, assuming Roman would sleep the whole way on the 8pm departure. Uhhh, not sure what we were smoking, but 3 ½ hours later, Maurice and I were delirious from lack of sleep and Roman was calling every passing train Thomas. When Uncle Nic scooped us from Penn Station, Roman proceeded to mark the trip back to the house in Long Island by reciting the letters he saw on all the shiny buildings. There is no video footage of this due to our sheer exhaustion and utter amazement at his lack of sleep. He outlasted both of us and finally was knocked out at 11:30pm….and up the next morning at, you guessed it, 7:15am.

As Godparents to Roman, Peg and Nic have been at all walks of his life, including his christening and b-day party, which was the last time they saw him. He’s grown a bunch since then, but being able to share the time with them and their new bundle of joy was priceless. That is, for me. Roman, on the other hand, took a little *ahem* getting use to for baby Jackson, especially when Mommy was carrying baby and not Roman. I have never seen such jealousy!

But after a day, he was ready to be the bigger man and even let me take Jackson out of his carseat and hold him (while he hovered nearby to make sure I didn’t run off and leave him!) Isn't he just the cutest thing you've ever seen? In his usual newborn stage, I didn't get many pics with his eyes open, but these few were classic! Baby Jackson is a little too small for he and Roman to take pics together, but all the girls agree that the day when we can get all 3 of the boys in a photoshoot will be unforgettable!

I can't wait to watch them grow together, learn together and to share such precious memories with two of the most important people in my life. I wasn't blessed to have sisters of my own to share the experience of motherhood with...but my girlfriends (and their babies) suit me just fine!

Puerto Rico - HO!

2009-09-12T21:59:00.025-04:00

Puerto Rico – HO!

I know, I know, I am SO LATE! Our trip to Puerto Rico was so, like, last month. Still, I couldn’t let such a wonderful (and comical) occasion go by with documentation. So here goes:

Our decision to go to PR was driven primarily by the fact that:

Hubby said the trip MUST have a beach
Mommy said the trip MUST be no more than 4 hours away
Roman demanded the trip include an airplane ride

Previous readers of the blog are familiar with Roman’s obsession with airplanes, and we though this would be just the thing to bring it to life. I’ve been to PR no less than 5 times (EJ – our trip was still the best, no offense Mom – though we DID have the best guacamole!), but I enjoy it so much and think it’s a perfect quick getaway so we were all on board. We invited my mother-in-law bc she has actually never traveled to the Caribbean and hadn’t been on vacation in decades (yes, decades) unless you count trips to visit family. She was thrilled to join us and to have so much time to spend with her grandson. Our flight left Saturday morning, and as you can see, Roman is NOT a morning person.

Once we reached the airport, things changed dramatically. He has been known for being able to “spot” planes from a distance by simply hearing their sound, so visiting the airport was visceral overload. The many planes flying overhead was exciting for him and caused a bit of a struggle just to get past security check. But once we hit the terminal – excitement ensued!

The flight was relatively uneventful once we boarded, and Roman jumped from seat to seat between us and Grandma Pat. He slept the balance of the flight and woke up just as we were touching down.

Since Maurice is a road warrior for work, we used his Marriott points to stay at the Marriott Stellaris Casino and Resort, a 5-star family hotel that boasted a beautiful view from every room and the 2nd best part of the trip (at least for Roman)…a kiddie pool. The first day was primarily spent exploring the hotel, since we arrived at almost 3pm.

I initially underestimated how good the kiddie pool would be. Not sure who was the actual inventor of this creation, but the key ingredient in a true kiddie pool is a graduated entry and a maximum depth of less than 3 ft. This one had both, which meant Roman could walk in and pretty much go anywhere he wanted without needing to know how to swim. It also had a few “lips” that let you sit in 9 inch water and play with the hotel-provided tools. JACKPOT!

By day two, we were ready to venture past the hotel doors….to the secluded beach behind the hotel. I assumed that Roman would be fascinated by the sand and expansive ocean, but both were only lukewarm wins. The sand was fun until he realized how hard it is to get it off of your hands when they are wet. As for the ocean, well, I think it was a little too “wide open” for him, though he enjoyed a few healthy dips with Daddy until the tide came in. Then it was off to the comfort of the beach chair and a few graham crackers to soak in the sun. Apparently the graham crackers were not sufficient, so he filled his belly with something less "conventional"

That afternoon, we high tailed it to Old San Juan to tour the city and the fort, El Morro. Even with the stroller umbrella and numerous bottles of water and Gatorade, we were all pretty tuckered out by the sun once we reached the fort. I thought it might be a “bust” of an afternoon, until Roman spotted the kites.

For those of you who have never ventured to Old San Juan on a weekend, El Morro is flanked on both sides by a sea of green, rolling hills that are inhabited by kite fliers of all ages. I figured that kites couldn’t be that far behind airplanes in terms of interest, and I was right. As soon as he saw them, he went ballistic and shot out of the stroller. Luckily, my mother brought me a “backpack strap” for my trip to help keep up with him.

If you’ve never seen this contraption, it is a backpack that you wear around your chest like a harness, with a twist….a long strap that extends of the back that acts like a “leash” to help you keep tabs on your kid while letting them also have the freedom to wander at will. When she initially showed it to me, I declared that there was NO WAY that I would be using such a thing. My mother chuckled and proceeded to tell me about how both my brother and I had them when we were little, and I particularly due to my propensity to run off like a maniac at inopportune times (read: in the middle of the store with many people watching). I had a brief vision of Roman’s first contact with the kites and determined that the backpack DID serve a good purpose (it held his Goldfish and cup) and couldn’t be too bad if it also came with a handle.

In the end, it wasn’t really needed, as the fort itself is pretty steep in most places and required Roman to be carried by Maurice or I. But the view was as breathtaking as I remembered and we enjoyed the sweet breeze as the whole family stole a few private moments to reflect. But after kites and forts and views, Roman declared that he had his fill.

Our third day, Pat took off for the rainforest (El Yunque, which you MUST visit if you are childless on your trip) and we stayed close to the pool and beach. When she returned that afternoon, we took off for the local park and spent the later afternoon with Roman trying to make friends with all the Spanish-speaking kids in the area. I think the curly hair fooled most, as they kept trying to talk to him in Spanish, even the mothers and nannies we met.

That evening, we got dinner nearby the hotel for monfongo and plantains and then took a stroll on the beach at sunset. A perfect end to a great day that wiped us all out!

The following morning, we got set to head out but not before we took another dip and laid out at the pool for our last time. A very nice lady offered to take some pics of the family, so we got a few pictures of all of us on the pool lip as a going away gift.

The flight home was uneventful, save for the hour we spent watching planes from the tower with my son calling them all out as if he was air traffic control. We landed and went straight home to rest up for our next day of normalcy, though Roman would have clearly preferred to have more of the late nights he enjoyed in PR. Still, during our night prayers, he made sure we added the “airplane” in with our list of thank you’s.

Up, Up and AWAY!!!

2009-07-21T14:39:00.007-04:00

In the last 2 weeks, Roman has developed a love of airplanes. And I don't mean a small crush, I'm talking an obsessive, all-encompassing infactuation with planes. He can hear the engines in the sky and spot them out miles away. It started innocently enough with the back cover of his previously favorite book, Trucks, by Byron Barton. (A must have for all little boys). The back cover lists other books by Byron, including the innocuously titled "Planes". Maurice and I figured it couldn't hurt to expand his reading to include other board books, so I picked up a small-sized Planes one afternoon after work. And so it began....

First it was just the book. We would read it nightly, 6-7 times, and after one of us finished reading it, the other would have to read it. By night 3, we could all recite the book, with Roman prompting each page. Then we took the tike to ToysRUs (I can't help it, I'm a traditionalist. If you want toys, go to the source. I know Target and WalMart are cheaper, but what beats wall-to-wall dolls, trucks, train sets and Slip-N-Slides?) In the store, we found two minature planes, which he promptly latched on to so tight that a full meltdown ensued when we went to pay and had to pry it from his hands.

Minature planes gave way to wanting the real thing, and while my nephews were here visiting Roman, we made a trip down by the airport to see them at the hotel. I thought he was going to have a heart attack in the backseat with all the aircrafts overhead! We had to stand outside for 20 min before we saw the family while he announced each one as they passed by.

My parents, however, have nutured this love into full-blown insanity with two things. The first is a full glider, complete with a 3-ft wingspan, that they bought him last weekend. I don't have pictures, but when they called up to let me know about it, a frantic and deranged Roman was singing in falsetto about the "ai-pains"! The second is a trick of old from my Dad - his paper airplane fleet. When I was little, Dad made these weekly and we flew them til they lost their wings. He made them for Roman too, and let's just say, he enjoyed them as well.

I thought you'd enjoy :)

The family goes on vacation in early August to Puerto Rico for almost a week and I'm sure the highlight will be our time in the airports to and from. Hopefully he'll find riding in an airplane as exciting as watching one fly by...or at least half as exciting as the paper planes from Big Daddy!

Getting Grown

2009-07-08T09:53:00.008-04:00

Even though its my 21st birthday today :), I am spending it reflecting on how my son is growing up so fast! My purpose of the blog was to share his exploits, but they happen so quick that I am pretty deliquent except for the few of you I get video or pictures to off my phone!

This summer, he's taken to books and particularly and letters, which you know Mommy could not be happier about. In the morning, he usually begs us to watch SuperReaders on PBS so he can shout out his letters while he stands transfixed in front of the TV. (Also the best 20 minutes we can buy for ourselves to get ready some morning....shhh, don't tell).

Smartest thing we ever brought for him? $5.95 foam letters for the bathtub from Target. With those, he learned this:

I listened to my girlfriends and made sure this video was "PG", since it is tub-related and I do want him to still speak to me when he's a teenager and not send me to Maury. But I was such a proud mommy that I even did a website review on those letters and how much I love them. Maybe Target will get me an endorsement deal?

Second to his love of letters is his Elmo toy he got for his first birthday. It took him a while to get into it, but once he did, this quickly became a "go-to" toy to keep him interested. Once we got him to stop trying to eat the circle, he eventually figured out what to do with it

I tried to get him on tape actually saying his shapes so you could hear how funny it is to listen to him try to say "triangle". Literally makes my day!

But above letters and shapes and Elmo and even Super Readers is his love for, you guessed it, THE CAR! If you know my husband at all, you know he comes by this insane love affair honestly, as Maurice could spend all day talking cars. But even he has tired of his new fave activity, which is climbing into the front seat of our cars to "DIVE". I wish this wasn't a daily act, but unfortunately, each day after day care pick up we end the afternoon with a trip behind the wheel.

Mommy's car is great, but Daddy's mustang is way cooler. We usually spend at LEAST 20 minutes in there!

As you can see, our baby is a baby no more. But this birthday was all the more special because I could reflect on all the joy he has given to me over the last year. Thanks for making this and every day so special, Roman! Mommy loves you!!!

Summertime, and the living is easy

2009-06-01T10:42:00.018-04:00

Hello all! Sorry for the short “drought” of Roman’s Empire posts, there were some technically difficulties with our equipment. (Well, Nana went on a whirlwind vacation/visit tour and took our camera since hers is medieval!). Anyway, we’re back on air and happy to see you all again.

This weekend, the family went to DeKalb Peachtree Airport to view the annual airshow. Though Roman was a little young to partake in all the fun, and there was a lot of fun to be had, he did enjoy the “ai-pains”.

As you can see in the video below, the pilots were some daredevils, and Maurice and I agreed that stunt pilot should be added to the growing list of professions Roman is NOT allowed to consider. Still, sitting on the runway and watching the show, followed by a Sno Cone and hot dog, made for an excellent afternoon!

Not wanting to slow down the party, our neighbors invited us poolside in the late afternoon to enjoy the gorgeous weather. Roman rarely turns down a chance to see his crush Sofia, so this was a perfect opportunity.

Mommy was too worn out from the air show to get in the pool, but Daddy happily obliged. Which was good, bc the two of them were quite a matching pair in their swim trunks and farmer’s tans.

Sunday was as beautiful as Saturday was, so we spent the late afternoon at a park near our house. Its our favorite best-kept secret, since its on a school campus and in the summer is virtually empty of visitors. That lets our little tyrant run the show like the emperor-in-training that he is. Included in his new phenomenon of climbing on everything.

And his need to personally handle all aspects of his playtime, even if this means examining a swing rather than actually swinging in it! Too independent to get help…wonder where he gets THAT from?

Or our favorite antic – needing to push ANYTHING with wheels! This includes garbage cans, his own stroller, stationary coolers and his father’s car. The school’s tricycles made for a great toy and he even let mommy push him around a bit for this one.

All in all, we had a wonderful weekend welcoming in summer. Hope you did too!

At The Car Wash

2009-04-27T08:55:00.007-04:00

At the Car Wash –
If you know the Bostick clan relatively well, then you probably know a few “staple” things about the family. The description of my perfect day: waking up early in a foreign country, taking a brisk walk before having a wonderful buffet of decadent pastries prepared by a chef tableside. My husband’s idea: A typical California-like afternoon with no clouds in the sky and time to spend with his baby. His Mustang, I mean. For a while, mommy and even Roman occupied top “baby” status, but to a car aficionado like my hubby, horsepower and clean rims will always win.

So imagine my surprise when Maurice called for Roman and I to join him in his car washing ritual. I was almost afraid for us to go bc I knew I wouldn’t be quite careful enough and Roman would be, well, Roman. But he seemed so into it and it was a gorgeous day, so….

The car stays pretty spotless, so a wash for him is akin to a “rinse off” for most folks. But Roman happily obliged in helping Daddy fill the bucket with soapy water to wash the car. Or, in this case, to wash Roman.
The pictures don’t quite do it justice, as Roman was more excited about the bucket than anything else. He was soaked in about 30 seconds, so clothes sorta became worthless at this point. Luckily, my son has no problem sharing his pot belly with the world, especially if he can do it in the sun with the spray of a hose.

By the time we finished, the car was clean and Roman was filthy with twigs and grass and all kinds of stuff stuck to his soapy, soaking wet body. But we had a good time and were pretty good assistants, so we’re hoping Daddy lets us come back next time!

The Easter Bunny Accepts Rain checks

2009-04-18T21:45:00.016-04:00

Many of you know Roman started a new day care center a few weeks back. And if you don’t know the story, suffice it to say it includes long, convincing although sometimes unbelievable reasons why this should have taken place. But luckily, (and by luckily, I mean after calling over 40 centers that would possibly be feasible for me to take him to and finding only a handful with availability and a few where you knew WHY there was availability right away…) I was able to get Roman into a new center that he is really enjoying.

That intro leads to this week’s blog, which the title may have tipped you to is about Easter. In my excitement to have found a new facility that boasted its "open learning model", I went about suggesting my first idea: An Easter Egg/Scavenger Hunt for the infants. Now, the first sign that the school has pretty good management in place is that they humored me when I mentioned a religious holiday and the word “scavenger” in the same breath as their infant classroom. And the second was that they already had an event like this for the older kids, just not those as young as Roman’s under 18 months class, since some had just mastered walking. But they not only humored me, they all got in on the planning (albeit after a few revisions). So in a matter of minutes, we had planned the first Infant Spring Egg-stravaganza, and I happily trotted off to buy plastic eggs, dye and marshmallow peeps while the teachers gathered baskets and bunnies.

The plan was to have the party, which would include dyeing eggs, an egg hunt and creating a mobile out of the plastic eggs for the room, on Friday. That morning, an excited mommy dropped off a play-clothed Roman and made plans to take the afternoon off to watch the festivities. So imagine my surprise when, at 10am, I received a call from the center director who told me that I needed to come get Roman not because he had crushed all the eggs before the kids could collect them (my latent fear) but because he had a 101 fever and had been listless all morning. Sad that he would miss the fun but more worried about a return of the dreaded ear infections despite his tube surgery, we picked him up and spent a weekend nursing what doctor’s deemed “a sinus infection coupled with an unknown virus”. Solution: Amoxicillin and time. (I’ll leave my frustration with the pediatric field to another post!)

On Monday, the center called to check on Roman and learned he was on his way to recovery and likely would be back in school Tuesday. That’s when they told us that they had delayed the party until he could participate and the dyeing and hiding would take place whenever he returned. I was genuinely happy that he didn’t miss the fun and the next day armed him again with play clothes but also with a disposable camera since Mommy would have to miss the party this time.

When I picked him up that afternoon, he was sitting in a pile of plastic eggs happily handing them to Ms. Cheryl and pronouncing “eeeg” (or egg) each time she took one and “tank chew” (or thank you) when she gave them back. She told me all about the dyeing before naptime and the eggs being hidden all over but in plain view so that when the kids awoke, they could start their hunt. She also said other parents had gotten on board and brought stickers for the eggs and made a dessert out of Jello and cool whip and didn’t even blink at postponing the party til Roman returned.

In true early bird fashion, Roman woke from his nap first and immediately shot off his mat and started following the egg trail. Apparently he was so fast, Ms. Cheryl had to bring him a basket to collect them all, and then take them out while he wasn’t looking and re-plant them for the other kids! They apparently were so loud with their screeches that the neighboring toddler and 3-year room came by to see why they seemed to be having more fun then they had at their party. Finally, they all shared the marshmallow peeps, to which Roman stuck them in his hair for his teachers to extract.

All in all, they seemed to have a great time and I was able to get the pictures on a disk so that the other parents could see their little ones if they couldn’t come by. (Though I will apologize in advance, I bought a bad camera and the pics are really grainy!) The little ones got to play like the big kids, the parents got to see how active their kids really could be at that age, and the teachers had a hoot watching the babies go at it. Plus, I got a nice indication that I might have found a good center for my son after all. Who says you can’t have your peep and eat it too?

Weekend at Bernie's

2009-04-09T14:09:00.013-04:00

If you haven’t seen the movie “Weekend at Bernie’s”, go rent it. Not because it has anything to do with this past weekend’s trip to my dad’s for Roman and Maurice, but because it’s a damn funny movie and a cult 80's classic. This past weekend, however, was close to being as funny, and my wonderful husband was sweet enough to video and take pics while I was out of town at my college reunion (yeah UVA), so I would still be able to post and enjoy.

So the trip was planned primarily because my hubby’s back was still pretty bad, and with me out of town for a few days, he wasn’t sure if he could handle caring for little man in all of his energetic glory. Enter “Big Daddy” (that is the name my father chose for himself in the grandparent naming process years ago. And while I still can’t say it with a straight face, I’m not sure there’s a better name for him!). Understand that Big Daddy had been looking for an excuse to get the guys together, especially since Nana is out of town. Naturally, when he heard I was leaving town and Maurice needed some help with Roman, he jumped on it.

For those who haven’t seen it, my parents have a really great house – one that is perfect for anyone with a bad back (no stairs and lots of available, comfy beds) or a particularly busy 1-year-old (Roman has more toys there than anywhere else!). Maurice opted to stay out there Saturday night and take advantage of the extra hands…and the huge flat screen to watch the tourney games!

Roman is no stranger to Big Daddy and Nana’s, having spent the better part of 6 months there before school started in earnest. My Dad and Maurice took Roman out to the front driveway to practice those walking skills on concrete – which is always a guaranteed laugh.

They also enjoyed some R&R by the lake to soak in the beautiful weather. Roman has always been enthralled by the lake, though he thinks of it as an oversized bathtub so he doesn’t quite get that it is both dangerous and not as clean. My dad usually has to distract him from trying to climb in, and this weekend was no exception. Leave it to my dad to entertain Roman with bird calls...at least for a while.

Finally, back into the house for a change of clothes and some more food. Oh, if you weren’t aware, eating is a national pastime for Roman at Nana and Big Daddy’s. They tend to err on the side of, if he’s hovering around the pantry, it must mean he’s hungry! Did I mention that my older brother was 25 lbs at 6 months old? Don’t worry, Nana now practices “portion control” much better.

After a few meals and a few games, they all hit the sack pretty hard. That was never more apparent than the next morning, when my husband recorded this video of the sleeping prince….at 10:15am

Now, granted, he didn’t sleep from 8pm to 10:15, he woke at his usual 7:30am and then climbed in bed with Daddy to sleep some more. But I think its pretty indicative of the weekend when you see my overly active son complete conked out in bed late in the morning.

All weekend while I was gone, Maurice was shooting me these updates and photos and videos to my phone so I wouldn’t miss the fun. And while it was great to catch up with my friends at the U and reminisce over old times, I was all too pleased to get back to my “new” life and see my favorite men. Missed you guys!

Streamers and Cupcakes and Gifts – OH MY!

2009-03-30T13:19:00.024-04:00

By now, most of you know that we celebrated Roman’s birthday last week with a whirlwind weekend that started with a party at the park and culminated at his christening at church. Since I’m writing this account a week later, you also probably know that I am still recovering from the fun. But 4 dozen cupcakes, 3 packs of hot dogs, 2 oversized Elmo balloons and 1 lost voice later – it was totally worth it!

The week was chaotic for me in a number of ways. First, it coincided with my busiest week to date for work, which featured two board meetings and a social event at the Dean’s home that I organized for our top executive group. The social, which took place on Roman’s actual birthday, and the meeting which followed the next day, took most of my creative and collective energy for the week or two proceeding. So my plan was to turn all of my attention to my little one as soon as the event’s ended. That is, until my big one’s back started hurting a few days prior. Maurice has battled back pain before so we both brushed it off as something to pass and planned for the party. We’ll revisit this later….

Since I couldn’t spend time with Roman on his actual b-day, Maurice and I took the day Wednesday to spend with Roman at the park near our house. Roman doesn’t need much – an open field and a “vroom vroom” (car) or ball and he’s happy. After an hour or so, we left the park and hit up Brewster’s for Roman’s first taste of ice cream. He devoured most of my hot apple dumpling and vanilla bean so I guess he liked it!

Thursday morning, I waited patiently outside Roman’s door for him to wake so I could sing happy birthday to him. This is eerily like my laying-in-wait at Christmas to sing – with the same results – lots of smiles but pure confusion on his part. After getting him dressed, Daddy took him to school and brought in cupcakes for his class. He remarked how amazing it was to see a room of toddlers immediately get quiet when someone mentioned cake.

Friday night, Auntie Peg and Uncle Nic, Roman’s godparents, came in town for the festivities. It was so great to have them here and Roman did his usual “performance” that he does when he has an audience to watch – he walked around and strutted his stuff throughout the house for the new guests. Saturday morning, we woke early and proceeded to begin running around like crazy people. I wish I could say that I had all the things ready for the party for 50+ and the christening the next day, but work and being down one helper (Maurice’s back went from bad to worse) made organizing a little hectic. But we successfully picked up 2 dozen balloons, all the hot dogs and hamburgers one can eat, cakes and cupcakes, decorations, and back pain medicine for hubby and were able to arrive at the party only 15 minutes late. Roughly.

The park was great and so many people showed up to see the birthday boy. I was worried at first about it not being a great venue for Roman since he hadn’t mastered walking, but in the end, it was perfect for him and the other kids. He walked all over and spent a fair amount of time on the slides, swings and jungle gym. He also continued his personal “strike” against the expensive shoes Mommy bought at Stride Rite and chose instead to trash his new argyle socks (he did NOT get the chance to ruin his seer sucker blue/orange/white striped pants, though, as mommy WAS smart enough to nix that idea in exchange for trusty jeans. I’m not always smart, but I have moments….). My previously learned lesson of knowing that there are times to pick your battles prevailed, and since it was his day, I let it ride. Besides, $3 socks are totally not worth ruining a day over!

In addition to running all over the park, he got to play with friends Kolby and Sophia, Kaden and Koen, Savanna and Jada and new friends Ella and baby Asher, who joined us with his parents after celebrating his 1-mth birthday (SO glad you guys came!).

After running amok and wearing themselves out, it was time for cake. I fully expected Mr. Busybody to totally tear into the cake, so we got a “smash cake” for him to destroy. This is apparently a recent phenomenon, as I don’t remember EVER having a separate set of sweets to trash, but it didn’t matter as Roman seemed pretty uninterested in smashing anything. Instead, he was content letting us “mere mortals” feed him icing all afternoon.

Sunday brought another beautiful day and again us scrambling to get ready for another event – Roman’s christening. For those of you thinking it might be a little strange to christen a child at 1 year old, you are probably correct. Unfortunately, our church only does the event on an infrequent basis and this was the earliest we could schedule. On top of that, it was the first time they ever chose to do the christening both in service AND after service, so the start time for the event changed no less than 5 times and as recent as the Friday before. But in the end, it was a great event.

Now normally, I am a stickler about planning. I ran through most of the plans for my wedding so often that I could recite all the sections on command. But there were too many parts to this weekend that I missed doing – including trying on my son’s christening outfit in a timely manner. I realized this misstep around 8pm Saturday night, and since the boy was already sleep, decided to simply pray that the outfit would fit the next day. And I guess you can say it did. The pants were fine, but the shirt and vest (in all their shiny white glory) were just a tad too small and had the effect of making him look like a little Hulk busting out of them both. Luckily, he wasn’t in them long and nobody noticed (except me).

The event was small but personalized, as the pastor prayed over each child and offered specific blessings for them and their family. Roman was vocal as usual and seemed to charm everyone there. Afterwards, we took family pictures and headed to lunch/brunch to celebrate. Here is where things get a little dicey…..

Somewhere along the way, Roman must have decided his outfit was not the move and he proceeded to *ahem* soil it enough to need emergency changing. Luckily, this was not a Panera II (click for previous post) but it did result in one destroyed outfit and one happy baby in a too tight onesie! Afterwards, we all took photos despite the wardrobe malfunction and headed to our respective homes to rest from a whirlwind weekend.

It is hard to believe that my son is already a year old. I remember so vividly being pregnant, giving birth, and bringing home this delicate, fragile bundle of joy. The months flew by, as everyone said they would, but no one can prepare you for what it feels like to see your baby becoming a child and on his way to being a little boy. Anyone who meets Roman always remarks on how beautiful his smile is and how happy he seems to be all the time. I am proud to be mother to a son with such an amazing disposition – who can be at ease in any situation and one who brightens the faces of many as he does for me. I know that it was his day, but in a way, it felt like mine too – and I went to bed thanking God for such an amazing gift!

A Birthday Wish, or Step in the Name of Love

2009-03-17T22:21:00.010-04:00

I know it’s corny, but I couldn’t resist. (And i know some moms are flippin on me even having "the R" on a kids page.) Most of you know that Roman took his first steps about a week or so ago and is now a full-fledge walker. By walker, I mean exploring all kinds of things with his new found talent of drudging along like baby Frankenstein. Take a look:

Initially we had to incent him to walk, but now it’s a regular occurrence. Which I thought would make me insanely happy but instead has come as bittersweet. With only 2 days left before his 1st birthday, I am face to face with watching my baby become a little boy.

I believe this is something all mothers find out in due time, but experience differently. My initial thought was that I would be in the “let’s go” camp – those parents who happily skip the infant stage for the more fun, more mobile and ultimately more kid-like phases of toddler-hood. I envisioned my son in parks, on swings, riding a bike – all of those things on the horizon. But here on the cusp of the move from infant to toddler, I find myself marinating in the “hurry up and wait” group. Mothers and fathers who couldn’t wait to rush along the stages of life….just to find themselves looking back longingly on earlier moments.

To ease myself into the reality that his first birthday is coming whether I want it or not, I started feverishly planning his party. Would it be outside, at the house, maybe a bouncy gym (believe it or not, I considered it!). In the end, we went with park and prayed for good weather. As of now, Saturday looks like the God’s are favoring us. I also took the day off from work the day before his b-day, to spend some QT with my big boy. (Wish it could be day of, but I’ve got big meetings all the way through Friday night!) You have heard about how much we love b-days(if you didn't read that entry), so I had to make sure I was doing it right!

But as friends and family called to ask what to get Roman for his birthday (I reiterate…the boy needs NOTHING!), I struggled to think what I should do to mark the occasion. A toy seemed trite from the parents, clothes would be like any other weekend J - and even I couldn’t make a college savings bond sound sexy (especially not in this economy). So instead, mommy went back to her roots for Roman’s special day. This year, he’ll get a picture book from Mom and Dad full of all our fave photos of the year, set to a poem Mommy wrote for the occasion.
Its been years since I penned poetry, but no celebration seemed more relevant and the words almost wrote themselves. When I read it to him, he smiled as he always does when Mama reads at storytime…and even though I knew he couldn’t understand a thing, it was the best gift I could ask for. Hope it brings a smile to you too, and reminds you that the best things life has to offer should be relished everyday, should remind you why you exist, and should be remembered always. Enjoy – and happy 1st birthday, son.

A Poem for Roman - Happy 1st Birthday

Loving you defies all of my logic
And forces me to rethink the rational assumption
that there is a defined amount of space that can be filled
within ones heart
The time we had alone,
joined in body and sharing blood,
brought a closeness not unlike skin covering flesh
and introduced anticipation that even wedding days
and pomp and circumstance could not equate
Still, it could not prepare me
for the tsunami of emotions brought forth
when water broke and you swam into our world
The days that followed were a flurry
of caution and curiosity
of advice and amazement
and though you often emerged, albeit briefly, from the shelter of our arms
my fondest memories are in the mirrors
of those eyes I stared into until their shutters closed.
And if you are my moon –
the gravitational pull that draws me out of myself
into the loving place of motherhood –
Than you are also your father’s sun
the reason he rises
and the energy fueling his desire
to care and cover us with God’s blessings
In that way
as you grew, we did also
not in stature,
but in hopes and dreams and aspirations
exceedingly and abundantly above and beyond
what we ever imagined for ourselves
The village around you was built
containing warriors to fight for your soul
their love sharpening you into an arrow
aimed with purpose
ready and poised
So when your coos conveyed a message
and your steps changed our direction
we could respond despite the magnitude of the call
But it was your smile –
that perfectly upturned half-moon of expectation -
which made us understand
the incredible promise we must fulfill
that you might be free to do the same.

Snow Days

2009-03-04T12:06:00.007-05:00

This one will be a quickie – just like the event it talks about.

This weekend, Roman had his first taste of snow. The snow storm that blanketed the East Coast was gracious enough to give Georgia a show for a few hours and a few inches. When Roman woke up from a nap, we opened the window so he could do his “neighborhood watch” with some new *temporary* scenery. As you can see from his expression, he wasn't sure what to make of it. Heck, we weren't quite sure ourselves. I mean, who sees this much snowfall ...in MARCH no less!

But after a while, he was excited and wanted to get at whatever was falling from the sky:

So you’d think that, after a showing like that, he’d be all over a romp in the snow. Daddy convinced me to let him go out back for just a minute despite the fact that he is still nursing a cold/ear infection. Eventually I acquiesed - but note the look of confusion when I did. I kept the others off bc he looked even more annoyed. A quick trip on the back deck revealed to Roman that snow is way more fun to look at than to be in. Lesson learned!

I-N-D-E-P-E-N-D-E-N-T do you know what that means?

2009-02-27T14:05:00.007-05:00

There will be no surprise in my next statement: Roman has a mind of his own. This shouldn’t surprise anyone who knows his mother OR his father. But I can say with honesty that discovering your child’s personality can be a thing of beauty, but it can also be a long look in the mirror at a person you vaguely remember but have been frequently told about.

My husband will tell you that he was a bit of a “problem child”. His mother had her fair share of parent/teacher conferences and Maurice saw many detentions and lots of comments on those school reports. “He would be a great student if it weren’t for his talking in class”. This may surprise the many of you who know my husband now as the introspective, often quiet mate of mine, but that’s mainly because being married to me means that there is NO room for any other talking! Teachers, parents, friends – anyone – can attest to the fact that I was a model student with the books….but a TYRANT with the mouth! My mother likes to recall the time when I wouldn’t stop chatting in class at age 5 and my teacher, Ms. Green I believe, told me to stop “for the last time” and my reply was – “My mother is the head of the school board…and I’ll get you fired!”. Needless to say, the teacher still had a job, although I barely had a behind left!

Fast forward 25+ years and view my son. Don’t let those smiley smiley baby pictures fool you – when this one wants his way, its GONNA happen. My brother use to like to use the word “willful” when describing how headstrong his little ones could be. I never agreed until now.

Exhibit A: Cabinets
Most recently, Roman’s cruising has led him to a fascination with cabinet doors, gates, drawers – pretty much anything that can swing or slide open. Once we figured this out, Maurice baby proofed the necessary places, primarily in the kitchen where access to cabinets could really lead to trouble. The first morning Roman found out his favorite toys had been grounded, he was initially frustrated…and then willfully motivated. He tugged so hard on the TV console cabinet doors that he completely bypassed the latch system. Not sure how – but after 3 well-timed tugs, he was face to face with a booty of CDs and DVDs. And to my yelling, he replied with a smug smile of success

Exhibit B: Bathtime
Bathtime antics have been in play since Roman was able to sit up by himself. My mother can tell you about how it took her AND my Dad to bath him because his fascination with the faucet meant that he would never sit – he just clung to the faucet for dear life. In the end, we just started bathing him while standing up to avoid the fight. But recently, I tried to reason with my son by explaining why grabbing onto a faucet a few inches higher than he could reach was a bad idea. His response? After wiggling out of my arms and lunging at the faucet, he stood to his feet triumphantly…and peed in the water. He almost looked like a little statuette there, I swear.

Exhibit C: Bedtime
Roman wasn’t always a good sleeper, but once he weaned himself from breastfeeding, we pretty much got through the night with only a day or two of evening waking that was serious. We could let him whimper out in his sleep most nights, even cry aloud sometimes. But now, Roman has a voice to accompany that cry. And its LOUD. After putting him down for bed last night, awake but sleepy as is most nights, I patted his back for a minute or two before I headed out. Before I could make the door, he was on his feet in the crib, shouting at me. And no, I’m not exaggerating. He was SHOUTING! Think of it like this – if he knew curse words, that would be what he would have used. When I proceeded to still walk out, he continued his catcalls/crying/cursing, intermittently mixed with moments of rest. I cracked the door after a few minutes and found my willful son sitting in the middle of the crib, back to the door, wailing like a wolf at the moon…followed by him feverently waving and clapping his hands. It took all I had not to crack up and blow my sneaking out.

Often after his “expressions”, I call or talk to my mom and remark how deliberate he is. How he will be a terror at 2, I just know it. She typically shuts me up with comments like “and you think you were a saint?”

And she’s right. Parenthood can be like a time machine – taking you back to places and times of your past, places you may or may not recall. You see in your child a lot of what your parents saw in you – good or bad. And you revel in the good…and say penance for the bad.

For me, I only got a few minutes of wallowing in unsubstantiated fears about what future years will be like with the willful wonder before my mom finishes her statement. “you were a handful, alright. But you turned out just fine”.

So for all my moms out there who are going through rough spots with your kids – terrible twos, tens or teens – remember…you really did turn out just fine now, didn’t you?

Playing Hard to Get - A Valentine's Day Prelude

2009-02-10T16:46:00.021-05:00

Spring is definitely in the air with our beautiful 60+ degree weather this weekend, but I also think there might have been a bit of “luvin” floating around too, as Roman got his grown man on and had TWO dates this weekend.

His first was an impromptu gathering with neighbor Camila’s 10 month old daughter Sofia, who Roman has been seen pawing before.

Camila needed to run an errand, so Roman got to hang with Sofia for a while. From the minute she showed up, the only word I can use to describe my son would be a peacock. He fluffed out his chest so big and started strutting around his room (as best as someone who can’t walk can strut – you know what I mean), loudly showing her all his toys. And by showing her, I mean showing and then quickly snatching away as soon as she wanted to touch it. It was like a baby version of that skit with Eddie Murphy from Delirious. “I got some ice cream, and you can’t have none, cause you on welfare, you can’t afford it…..wanna lick? SIKE!”:

But did you hear him say "Oh NO" when he swooped in to take the hot dog toy? Pure hilarity, I tell you. After we stopped laughing, though, we realized that sharing is NOT one of Munchkin's strong suits!

The funniest part of it all was the fact that, for all Roman’s antics, Sofia was clearly the one in charge. She played quietly while he panted around like a maniac and even tolerated him when he brought over toys and quickly took them back. But most importantly, she showed him who was boss bc she can walk. Not a ton of steps, just one or two, but Roman was so miffed that it was all he could do to show her he was a big boy too. So instead of walking on his own, he made his way across the room holding onto every big item he could find. I don’t think she was impressed, though.

The next day, Roman got to see his other hot honey, my girlfriend Kendyl’s daughter Kolby, who was celebrating her first b-day. Now Roman and Kolby have had quite a few “dates” and each time the both seem equally uninterested in each other. The first one they both slept through (granted they were 4 months old, but hey!) This time, Ms. Kolby was not to be outdone and brought the “fire” in her little birthday ensemble, complete with a bolero jacket. Yeah, you heard me, a bolero jacket. Please believe that I will be in retail overload if I ever have a girl….this stuff is too cute!

Rather than trying to get Kolby’s attention, Roman decided to test out all of her brother’s toys and try to act cool while he waited for her to come by. But instead he just looked like a stalker watching her across the room as she played. Note to my baby: just go say hi…it’s generally better than sweating someone from a distance. Just ask your father!

Kolby may not have given Roman a lot of play, but she did give him something no other woman has, not even me. She gave him CAKE. Sweet, fluffy nectar of the Gods – and you can see he loved every minute of it...

Until I took it away.......

By the party’s end, they had made their way to each other, but neither would make the first move. We’ll have to see where this leads to….

Finally, that Sunday, Roman had a repeat performance with Sofia when they met up at the park to play. Sofia brought backup this time – a few of her parent’s friends from various South American countries, so he was not only outmatched, he was also at a language deficit! But he recovered and they ended up having a great time playing outside, with it being Roman’s first time playing in the grass since he could really crawl (not that crazy worm action of before).

Despite loving spending time with Sofia, the real winner of the day was this beach ball Sofia’s friend Mateo let Roman use (and by let, I mean Roman de-bo’ed while Mateo was playing with some blocks we brought).

Looks like we might have a baller on our hands after all!

All in all, the weekend was great and I think it was just what the family needed after a stressful weekend prior. Still, this Saturday is Valentine’s Day and I would venture to say that my little one still hasn’t settled on what gifts to give his lady friends. I may have to have his father speak to him about romance a little bit - Let’s hope he gets better with age!

Is there a doctor in the house?

2009-02-03T11:55:00.005-05:00

In the list of professions I considered, I will be honest, pediatrician never entered my mind. That is a good thing, it turns out, because not only could I not have watched babies in pain or sick, I also couldn’t handle postal mothers like myself who have to handle a doctor and the myriad diagnoses they offer when checking a sick child.

What’s this about? Well, on Friday, I received a phone call from Roman’s school saying that he’d been crying and that they couldn’t calm him down. By the time I got back in touch with them, they had offered him another bottle which was temporarily quieting him, but something about it didn’t feel right, so Maurice picked him up early from school. When he arrived, Roman was still crying and totally red-faced with a rash and lips that looked like he was wearing lipstick. He got him home, expecting him to calm by then, but found him even more irritable. By now, I was on my way home from a meeting about an hour away and called Roman’s doctor to get some advice. I told her all his symptoms, including the fact that he recently began Azithromycin to treat what the doctors had thought could possibly be Whooping Cough. (Wondering when in the hell someone has had whooping couch in the last century? Yeah, me too, but I digress...) The nurse thought it was probably an allergic reaction or possibly a bowel obstruction based on what Maurice was describing as his writhing and crying. So when I got home (through 90 minutes of Friday Atlanta traffic), we climbed in the car and sped off to the nearest Emergent Care center.
Not sure if you’ve ever had to use one of these before for your child, but if not, let me offer some unsolicited advice:

1. The word “emergency” is relevant. If my child is bleeding and your child is only coughing, I win. It’s that simple. With only 1-2 primary doctors and usually a room full of kids, they have no time to use any other metric. Its like an ER, with less frills and staff. When we arrived, Roman was crying so hard and was so red that no one even asked me to sit down. They just pointed to the door where the doctors were and I went in. There were easily 10 other kids there, but I assume none of them were a 10-mth old, beet red, screaming infant.

2. Insurance is king. Though I walked right through, Maurice was tasked with doing all the paperwork, which by the way, until it was completed NOTHING took place in the room where I was ushered. Nurses came and went and all tried to stroke and calm him, but until they saw a card for payment, sympathy was all they were offering.

3. The staff may all be doctors, but that doesn’t mean they all passed sensitivity training. Now, I should preface that statement to say that may be unique to this center, since that was my experience. But the doctor who finally saw Roman was so calloused that when I started to cry as she examined my screaming son who she was handling as if he was meat, her response of “I can’t have two of you hysterical, so I’m going to need you to calm down” almost elicited an immediate beatdown. If she wasn’t the only doctor available for my child, she would have found herself with a much “fiestier” mother. After X-rays and prodding and testing for everything (they checked his eyes for scratches on his retina by pouring an electric green dye in them and passing ultraviolet light over, and looked for broken bones by bending all his limbs in various directions), she cavalierly mentioned his red face and swollen lips as possibly a reaction to the medication before she left the room to re-read the Xrays again. When I came out 10 min later to ask for something to help his pain, she informed me of an ambulance transfer to take us to the main pediatric ER…and proceeded to order morphine for him to “calm him”. By this time, I’m calling all my friends who even know how to SPELL pediatrician bc I am sure that this is not standard practice. But no one could respond before the shot arrived and with it, he definitely calmed but became a drugged limp body in my arms until the ER unit arrived.

The paramedics did wonders to calm me, even after they told me I couldn’t ride in the back with him due to legal restrictions (you should have seen me trying to negotiate!). They gave him IV fluids to help him rehydrate (he’d cried so much he had no tears or saliva left) and by the time we arrived to Children’s he was no longer flush red nor crying. Which put us in the awkward position of being the ones with no emergency, as babies with face lacerations and skyrocketing fevers became priority over a sedated but calm Roman.

And I was honestly okay with that. The nurses explained the procedures they would run and what they were looking for (they feared he might have small-bowel intussusceptions due to his abdominal pain - which is basically your bowels folding in on themselves. Yeah, i know, TMI) but both Maurice and I were pretty sure it wasn’t that. No reason, we just were. But I wanted to know what had happened to my son to reduce him to screams and fits for 4 ½ hours.

But I never got that answer definitively. The discharge papers said abdominal pain and the follow up at the doctors felt "fairly sure" it was a reaction to the medicine based on the rash, swollen lips and stomach cramping, but couldn't be positive since the symptoms were gone. Which left me feeling vulnerable and weak and most of all, helpless.

Which is not where I should have been. Because once the doctors ordered up Morphine for my infant and no one could tell me what alternative to ask for or why they didn't check for the allergies, I knew I had to let go of the situation and simply ask God to take over. I didn’t know what was wrong or whether it necessitated something so strong for someone so small, but I did know that whatever it was, God could cure it. And in my prayer, I specifically said “I don’t care how or what it is, I just ask that you take this sickness away because I know that only you can provide true relief”. And that is exactly what he did. Me reneging on my declaration because I "need closure" or something doesn’t mean God owes me an explanation, just that I need to reassess my faith. It was strong enough to trust He would cure it, so why couldn't it be strong enough to accept that knowing for sure mattered little, so long as Roman was okay.

It was a long night – 7 hours in the end – but when we got him home neither Maurice nor I could let him sleep in his crib. We nestled him between us and slept like we had when he was first home with us. And my tears that night were not for feeling inept or in anger for the doctor’s lack of bedside manner (even though I couldn’t promise I wouldn’t confront her in a dark alley)– they were of joy and gratitude for grace and mercy.

God gives miracles to us everyday – some big, some small – but all good and great things are His to give and ours to appreciate and recognize. Thanks be to Him always for such a gift as life - our own and the beauty of a child.

Oh Say Can You Sea

2009-01-27T13:52:00.012-05:00

This past weekend, my mother, mother-in-law and I took Roman to the Georgia Aquarium, which is the world’s largest aquarium. This wasn’t Roman’s first trip – he actually went when he was 3 months and Auntie Rhonda was in town, but as expected he slept most of the time and ignored all the scenery. (Baby Charles had a great time though!)

This time, Roman was much more apt to enjoy the event so we headed down as a family to check it out. If you’ve never been and are planning a trip to Atlanta, you really do have to go. Even though its one of those tourist traps (yeah, pricey and full of trinkets you don’t need) it truly worth the trip at least once. The vision of the aquarium is huge and I think it pulls it off beautifully without be pretentious or overwhelming. Its just, well, impressive.

We started off by the wall murals where Roman got his first intro to schools of fish. By his reaction (he turned around the stroller as if to laugh at me), I was worried it wouldn’t go well.

But once inside, he really got into it. His favorites were the big rooms with floor to ceiling walls of fish, where he could go up to the glass and *ahem* introduce himself.

He was also intrigued by the Beluga whales, who looked like they were swimming up and down versus side to side.

And in the rooms with portals where you feel like you’re reaching out into the water from a submarine, he got an up-close and personal look at some sting ray and other specimen.

But the best was the otter park, where the sea otters put on a show of their own that Roman and I both loved!

By the end of the performance, though, he was quite content to sit back in his stroller with some milk and enjoy the rest of the view from a more “VIP” vantage point. Must be nice to know that when you get tired, someone is always there to take over for ya!

Nana and Grandma Pat both had a blast – especially since it was Grandma Pat’s first time to the Aquarium since she moved here, and I know Roman had a blast with them both!

This is the Big One Elizabeth – Roman’s First Day at Daycare

2009-01-22T15:05:00.000-05:00

So I knew this day was coming, but I didn’t think it would get here so FAST! This past Thursday, Roman started day care. Not the 2-day/week Mother’s Morning Out program he’s been attending the past few months that’s from 9-1pm (though I LOVE that program and he loves Ms. Nicole!) This is full-day, full-time day care. My initial plan had been to wait until he turned a year, but as most seasoned mothers know (and I did not), when a spot opens up at a day care you like, you typically have to seize it or risk missing out altogether. Roman is on a wait list for a couple of schools near my new job, but the one that became available is actually closer to our home than work. During my process of interviewing centers, I found this one particularly good in its practices with scheduling (big plus with me), learning stimulation (they change “activities” often to keep kids engaged), flexible days (you can do part-time or full-time days/week which is rare) and the length of time the staff has worked there (on avg. 3 years, which is a lifetime in day care providers!). Even more important – they have a video camera system that lets you view your child whenever you desire. All things considered – I was pretty favorable towards them so when a spot opened, I agreed to start Roman 2 months early for a few days a week.

I was surprisingly comfortable with the plan, especially after talking with a few mothers there who offered me advice and their feedback about how much the center is making a difference with their kids and what kind of personal relationships they often have with the kids. The one NOT as comfortable – Nana. Yeah, she loved the comments and the center’s set up and all, but no one would be able to give her baby as much love as she has for the last 9 months. Still, she agreed it was probably best to start him in a program soon if I ultimately wanted him in one, and this would be a good option. That said, I kept his Mom’s Morning Out dates, and the afternoon’s with Nana twice a week, and set Roman up for his first time in full-day care.

The morning of, we woke and had breakfast, but not too much, since the school provides all his meals and his formula – another great benefit. Plus, knowing he will need to get to know the teachers, I thought feeding would be an easy “icebreaker”. So long as you have the spoon, he will typically give you his attention!

After breakfast, we bundled up to brave the cold and headed out. Once we got there, the teachers were great about keeping him occupied while I got his particulars in order for the day. Diapers, bibs, change of clothes, toys – plus making his bottles for the day – all while he explored the room. A few babies were there already, and Roman quickly made friends.

Halfway through explaining to the teachers all of my nuances (“He likes to eat Cheerios in between containers of baby food, but not too many….lay him on his side to sleep, only give him the Organic meat I provided for lunch…) I realized that I was tearing up. Not a lot, but enough that the teacher recognized wanted to assure me that he would be fine. Not wanting to ball in her face, I grabbed Munchkin to give him a kiss goodbye. And just as I got into a good hug, he reached out of my arms for Ms. Luisa and the container of bananas she had just pulled out to feed him.

Taking the hint, I announced that it was probably “time to make my escape” and slunk out the classroom. I stood on the other side of the door where he couldn’t see me and watched him eat and look around. I was confident he was looking for me and it took all my energy not to throw the door open and say “here I am”! Instead, I gave the receptionist all of my phone numbers plus my email and the numbers of everyone else I could think of and told her to call for ANYTHING!

Now ya’ll know that as SOON as I stepped into the office, I was on that computer looking for Roman! After searching both cameras and calling the school three times to complain that I couldn’t find him, he finally crawled to the toys in front of the lens. I am not sure what I expected, but there he was, playing among the other kids just fine. I was temporarily comforted, until he tried to reach for another child’s toy and fell forward and got frustrated so he started to cry. I waited and watched and no one came to his aide. I was infuriated. Yes, he had reacted to a fall like that a hundred times with me in the same way, and yes, I respond just the same. No need to reward your temper tantrum with immediate response – and generally he figures out that no one is going to assist and he figures out to just crawl there and get what he wants and he’s fine. And as I am preparing in my head for the argument I am going to have with the teacher as soon as I find the school’s card again, that is exactly what he does. He sits up, looks around and crawls to the toy and drags it out of my view. And poof – he’s off again, while I’m glued to the screen for another hour waiting to glimpse him gliding by before his lunchtime.

All of my girlfriends told me to log off. They said I was being a stalker. (This was, of course, before I let them log and see how extremely addictive it was. One auntie, who will remain nameless, was glued there longer than me!). The truth was, though, that they were right. I could watch for hours but would always be worried that the care he was getting wasn’t as attentive as it could be from me. And honestly, it wouldn’t be. I’m no “supermom”, but one-on-one attention for a baby will always trump group care in terms of the level of care a single child can receive. And Roman had been blessed enough to have that for almost an entire year from me, Maurice and my parents. But maybe the measurement that I needed to compare his school with wasn’t how much attention he got but how much time he got to socialize. To play with kids his own age (I’m fun, but after 2 hours on the floor, mommy’s gotta take a break!) and even learn that he’s not the center of the world (*GASP*). If I thought he would benefit from learning patience and independence when he was home with me, why all of a sudden was it not a good thing when he was in school?

So I logged off and thought instead of all the great things that Roman being in school would mean. When he started Mother’s Morning Out, he became an expert crawler (not the low crawl of before) simply by watching the bigger kids in his class. When he attended Sunday School, he always charmed the teachers and began to branch out with group play. I even saw the transformation in how he interacted at Gymboree as he became more aware of his surroundings and confident that he could tackle new challenges without me. This, it seemed, was more than just me needing to adjust to day care. It was the adjustment of realizing that my baby was growing up.
That afternoon, I raced from work to pick Roman up at school. I surprised him at the door and he dropped his toy to crawl to me and give me his famous grin. I melted just holding him, as if he had been away weeks instead of hours. While I packed up his things, he clung to my leg, but not in a frightened way. More in excitement to see me and play with me, even show me what he’d learned. When his teachers offered that he had done well and only cried briefly, instead of worrying about the crying, I puffed with pride about how well he did.

On the way out, a mother was coming in to pick up her child. She complimented my coat and asked me if I was new. “I am”, I replied. “This is my son, Roman. Today was his first day”. She cooed at Roman who in turn smiled and laughed. She smiled back and remarked – “And look, no tears at all. That sounds like a good first day”. I looked up from Roman to her to agree and caught her glance – and realized she was talking about me.

These are a few of his favorite things....

2009-01-14T16:14:00.001-05:00

So I know this entry was suppose to be about our trip to DC, but I thought I would share a short entry that is sort of related to Christmas, but not. Its about toys, and our son’s interest in them. Or lack thereof. Despite the numerous toys Roman has accumulated in his short life, some of his favorites have turned out to be very “everyday” items. I had heard this from all parents – not to waste money on toys bc kids fall in love with regular stuff like boxes and pans and your favorite shoes. But until I saw it up close, I didn’t fully understand…..The videos are short clips of him enjoying his favorite items, so peruse them at your leisure and you’ll see the simplicity of infants!
Fave toy #1 – Camera/Cellphone
This is a given from any kid, I think. They like the shininess and the noise they make, but also aren’t easily fooled by alternatives. We bought Roman this phone to fool him, to no avail. Now I know its a little big, but it rings on its own, lights up AND has my recorded voice! Yeah, he played with it all of 15 min. Instead, he found great joy, as only Roman can, in things as basic as the camera CASE.

Fave toy #2 – Bath items
This is a recently new phenomenon that comes from who knows where. Whenever bathing my son, you have to give him all (not some, ALL) of the items you are using to wash him. So bath soap, shampoo, and best of all, the stream of water from the faucet. He has learned to adore all things bath related. But I knew we had entered a new love affair when he woke up one morning and went directly to his tub….and dragged it out of the bathroom. (Didn’t get the dragging on tape, but I did catch the playing once it emerged!)

Fave toy # 3 – Toilet Paper
This interest was born of the bathroom ritual, when I tried to distract Roman from holding all of the soap in the world by showing him how the toilet paper roll moved. BIG mistake. Not only did he drop all the soaps/shampoos, he spun every single sheet of toilet paper off the roll in pure bliss. Now it’s a nightly ritual that he must play with the spool

Take it from me, nothing is more entertaining than to watch a child entertain himself with the most basic of things. Its beautiful to know that they are still innocent and excited by simple pleasures. That is, unless you spent a fortune buying them items to occupy their time. No worries – just do like me, keep the receipt and return the fake phone. For your own sake.

A Very Bostick Christmas – Meeting the Moses Clan

2009-01-13T14:21:00.000-05:00

Sorry for the delay – I had been busy getting back in step with work again. But judging by the amount of messages I got reminding me that I am Roman’s Mommy (and blogger) first and employee second, I figured I needed to get back to business!

Where was I? Oh – that’s right – Christmas weekend. After a beautiful Christmas dinner and time with the family, Friday brought yet another family get-together, this time with the Moses crew. This would be my brother’s father’s family who live all over the east coast, but are primarily here in Atlanta. The lone sibling not in town is Aunt Bernadine (the giver of previously mentioned “Band in a Drum”….more on that later!). Aunt B and her twin daughters Courtney and Pier, plus her husband Howard were in town for the holiday and I had to make sure Master Roman had a chance to meet them during their stop.

We headed to SW Atlanta and got there just in time to see the family before they headed out to some post-Christmas sales. Aunt B got to hold her munchkin – she writes me all the time about the pictures that she puts up in her office of him!

The twins also got to meet their cousin – and I’ll be damned if Roman doesn’t look like he belongs to them and not to me!

Aunt B always sends such thoughtful gifts and this year was no exception. In addition to the Band in a Drum – she sent him a constellation turtle, which reflects the stars onto the ceiling at night exactly as they are seen in the sky by constellations. Very cool – Roman couldn’t stop trying to grab the stars off the walls!

She also gave him a copy of one of my fave books – Puff the Magic Dragon – complete with CD and full color pics. Roman has gotten very into books lately, and I mean that beyond just wanting to eat them. His favorite at the moment is a recommendation from Auntie Rhonda – So Big w/ Elmo – that Grandma Pat got for him. We read this, along with Goodnight Moon and a collection of Sandra Boynton books before bedtime.

The best gift from Aunt B – far and away – was one that truly epitomizes Christmas in my mind. Locally, a family she knows is having a hard time financially and has been struggling to stay in school (she is a teacher, her husband is a professor as well). Aunt B brought bags of groceries for the family in the names of all of her nephews this Christmas, and sent them each a card to know what was done on their behalf. I loved the idea so much that I think I might do that myself next year!

Thanks to the Moses/Duncan family for making it a great Christmas with family!

Stay tuned for our trip to DC for Christmas!

A Very Bostick Christmas, Part II - Introducing the fastest reindeer in Santa's fleet

2009-01-02T23:02:00.000-05:00

An uneventful Christmas Eve night (thank God for sleeping soundly!)gave way to a beautifully warm Christmas morning. Roman roused the house at about 7:30 with his usual "call" and I quickly grabbed the camera so I could catch his morning antics on his first Christmas.

After he got out the crib, though, he wasn't quite in the "photo" mood.

(If you’ll notice, he is wearing his “Baby’s First Christmas” pajamas, a little number I picked up from the consignment store near Gymboree. I saw two or three of these in the stores at about $20/outfit…this little number was $3. Gotta love consignment!)

Anyway, after the video, we gathered in the room and Maurice prayed over the family for our first Christmas. It was a great way to welcome in the holiday and Roman even stayed still for most of it, which is a deviation from his usual commotion when we pray in the mornings. Afterwards, we headed downstairs to listen to Christmas songs and hang out in front of our tree. I only WISH Maurice would let me post the video I have of him singing Jingle Bells...HILARIOUS!

Though the tee was adorned with beautiful ornaments, and a few wrapped gifts for Master Roman only. Before you feel sorry for Maurice and I, we actually decided in advance as a family (extended as well) to skip adult gifts and just give to the kids. Normally, I hate the idea of not being able to spend my days planning what to give to whom, but this year it was a welcomed change. Still, it felt kinda weird to see just a few items under the tree on Christmas morning. My plan was to blast past this with an awesome first Christmas breakfast, but I didn’t get to the store before they closed Christmas Eve and was left only with a few eggs and some Oscar Meyer turkey slices. Luckily, my parents invited us for breakfast so we wouldn’t be too far from our desired tradition.
Before we left for their house, we let Roman open one of his gifts under the tree. It was a drum set from Aunt Bernadine – actually, its called a “Band in a Drum” bc it has 7 instruments that fit into a portable plastic drum – which he immediately became BFF with. I can’t tell you the irony that my Aunt Bernadine would get this for Roman, knowing he was destined to be noisy enough, with Maurice and I as parents. (I actually grilled her when we caught up the next day and she explained her madness!)

At Nana and Big Daddy’s house, Roman got his second gift from them, another walking toy. This one, however, converted into a scooter. BIG reviews from the little guy. Of course, he wanted to get on it immediately, so Daddy had to cut breakfast short and put it together for him. Once it was assembled, he was up and running. Literally.

There was also a lifesized stuffed dog from “Auntie” Rhonda – my parent’s neighbor, and bibs and clothes from Ms. Clarrissa, also a neighbor. The dog became a great pillow for the after breakfast nap.

With breakfast done, Mommy and I started cooking a few side dishes for the Christmas dinner to be served at my mother-in-law’s later that night. Afterwards, all of us (including Ann the Great) headed to Decatur to celebrate with the rest of the family.

It was a packed house at Grandma Pat’s and everyone was in great spirits. Despite having barely enough time to plan it all, Grandma Pat pulled off a great Christmas dinner, complete with usual suspects and new comers, plus Roman’s new staple, cranberry sauce. He had some at Thanksgiving, but it was clearly a bigger hit for Christmas.

After dinner, we had the big gift exchange for the kids in front of the fireplace. Roman made out like a bandit, getting great gifts like these:

Clothes from Auntie Sherrelle and Uncle James and crew
A gift card for Babies R Us for our

new stroller from Auntie Rita
and lots of clothes from Grandma Pat, plus books and stuffed animals (didn’t get a picture of them all one is an Ebee…suppose to be a great learning tool for babies).

But the winner of the day was clearly Uncle John’s Vtec Walker. Not only can you walk with it, but its got flashing LED (BIG plus to Roman) and tons of musical options. It also has a sitting and standing position, but I bet you can guess which one he liked best! Thanks Uncle John! Again, Daddy was put to the test to assemble, and then he was off and to the races.

So do you get the theme of this Christmas? Yup – all the elders are hell bent on getting my little one to walk as soon as possible. They say its because he really wants to, and you can tell by how much he pulls up. I think its payback for how much drama we caused them once we learned how to walk. My mother tells the story of how, at less than a year, I was walking so much that they had to put me in those sack pajamas (like the ones Maggie wears on the Simpsons) to keep tabs on me and try to slow me down. Yeah, you guessed it, didn’t work!

We left late in the evening and took a very excited, but very tired, Roman Isaiah home from his first Christmas. Though the day with family was at an end, we had to rush home and prepare for more family fun planned for the weekend. Roman and I had plans to visit my brother’s extended family in SW Atlanta so they could meet the little guy on Friday, then Roman, Maurice and I were scheduled to travel to DC to spend Post-Christmas with my brother and his family, plus Auntie Rhonda and Uncle Cac and Auntie Jennifer. I started to refer to the holiday as a “Puffy Christmas” – can’t stop, won’t stop. (Yes, I know its cheesy, but fitting)

Even though he was surely too young to remember the details, I tucked him in that night prayerful that his first Christmas was great for him not just for the gifts, but for the special time he spent with all his family. And despite not getting all my traditions started (or even remembering what they all were the next day!), I can honestly say I wouldn’t have wanted the day to go any other way.

*2 more parts to go….stay tuned for a visit to the Moses clan in Atlanta and a very merry DC Christmas revival coming soon!*

A Very Bostick Christmas, Part I - Twas the Night Before Christmas

2009-01-01T21:29:00.001-05:00

(The Bostick’s were so blessed to have a GREAT Christmas holiday that its going to take me a little while to recap all of our festivities for you guys. But if you bear with me, I promise all parts will be published before NEXT Christmas!)

I don’t know about the rest of you, but I LOVE the Christmas holiday. I have such fond memories of Christmases past and of great gifts I will never forget opening, and things like making cookies with my mom (which graduated to Bourbon balls when I got “of age”) and my Dad making Christmas morning breakfast, complete with his famous “thin-as-paper pancakes”. This year, I had BIG plans on what I was going to do with my first Christmas as a mom and consequently, Roman’s first Christmas. My ideas included starting all kind of traditions, like those I grew up with, that we could share as a family. But in the end, both time and motivation ran out quickly, and only a few of my desired thoughts materialized. Of them, though, I think it was a very Bostick Christmas, indeed.

The first adventure this Christmas was actually not a tradition of my creating, but one from my husband’s childhood – a gathering on Christmas Eve. In my husband’s family, they opened gifts on Christmas Eve and made the day before their big day. So in that spirit, we celebrated Christmas Eve 2008 with all of our extended family.

We started the day with a visit to the Lee’s to see Nana and Big Daddy, along with Roman’s Great-Grandmother “Ann the Great”. (see previous posting on Ann the Great’s 90th birthday photos). Nana couldn’t contain her excitement for the holiday and had to give Roman one of his gifts early – a walker. New mothers will likely not have this toy in their repertoire but should remember having one – growing up they were staples in most households. Now, they have been replaced by exer-Saucers and other toys that stand stationary, but in a house as big as Nana and Big Daddy’s – stationary is so passé.

Here is Roman in his walker - before he took off down the hallway at Nana's. Its great bc her house is all one story with awesome, long hardwood hallways perfect for scooting in this puppy. This toy was probably Roman’s first understanding that this time of year would bring more than just family – but also GIFTS! After that, he was quite animated for a while as he hung out with all of us.
We left the Lee household to head to downtown to the home of Maurice’s brother and his family for a Eve party tradition in their home – Christmas cookies and Gingerbread house decorating. On the way there, we passed this great "statue" (I know its not a statue, per se, but its seems so much more than a cardboard cut out!). LOVED IT!

Though Roman could not participate in the sprinkles and jellybeans, he did have a great time seeing his Uncle John and Auntie Rita for the first time, and getting dance lessons from John.

The evening was great and ended with a wonderful performance from my niece and nephew – both of whom are violinists. (She as of recently and he for a while – he’s quite the star). I am hoping to get some video from Auntie Sherrelle so I can share it with you all – they were great!

As the night went on, our star grew weary and we headed home to get dressed in our Christmas best and prepare to welcome in Roman’s first Christmas at the Bostick’s house. Maurice and I agreed to start one of our own traditions first thing in the morning – family prayer together as soon as we wake up. No gifts, just God. This was born out of our desire to “Get Christ back in Christmas” – not just for our son, but for us as well. I recalled how early I would wake on Christmas morning as a child and how I would race downstairs and tear into gifts so quickly that there was just a blur of wrapping paper and Cabbage Patch Dolls. We weren’t sure how, but we wanted to make Christmas about more than just the presents. There was talk about following prayer with some sort of community service, nothing serious but something we could do together. But, as you might imagine, nothing really lends itself to participating with an infant on Christmas Day. So we planned to just to wake, pray and listen to Christmas music together over our own special Christmas breakfast together to open our Christmas Day. Guess we’ll see how that goes tomorrow!

You want HOW MUCH for that photo???

2008-12-19T21:49:00.000-05:00

Let me start this entry off by saying that I am not, by any means, a scrooge. I am not miserly, cheap, or even thrifty. As a matter of fact, I have been known to waste money on a good number of things in my lifetime that were worthless or contributed to only short term happiness (if that…). Like my spa pedicure set that I got tired just looking at setting up. Or this beautiful angora sweater that made me itchy just looking at it but somehow convinced me that I would love it when I bought it – which I did not! Even my Netflix subscription, to which I have had a movie out that I need to return for 3 months!!! (Damn, where is that anyway??) But I digress….

I preface this way because I experienced a kind of sticker shock that I was not expecting this week when I took my son to the mall to have his photo taken with Santa. Now everyone knows this is a cash trap. A fat man in a suit sits in front of a shiny display and you pay him to hold your every squirming child as the photographer snaps one shot with your kid in tears, right? I was prepared for that, so I planned on taking my own camera and getting my own shots so that I made the most of the trip. Thinking ahead, right?

Wrong. I show up at 2pm on a Thursday and everyone…and I do mean EVERYONE who has given birth in the last 18 months is there with their offspring. And they are not just there – they are decked OUT! Taffeta and tweed blazers galore. I glance nervously at Roman’s corduroys and sweater with the cute polar bear (that I bought for WAYYY too much at a kids store just for this occasion) and I start to turn green. Not to be dissuaded, I follow the line and see a sign that estimates my wait as, get this, 2 ½ hours “from this point”. Like I’m at a freaking amusement park or something? At least at Six Flags there are multiple things to do. Other than the Santa at this mall and the Auntie Anne’s pretzel stand, there couldn’t be less I was interested in.

So I glance at my gussied up (or so I thought) child who is pulling at his sweater and fishing in my pocket for more Cheerios and realize that I do not have 2 hours before this kid goes postal. But I figure that I can be smart and take advantage of the setup by taking some pictures of the “scenery” and going with that.

I scoot to the side and set Roman up near a beautiful tree and poinsettia display and proceed to grab my camera….when a nosy elf (seriously, she was dressed as an ELF!) comes over and says “Um, excuse me, you can only take pictures with the display AFTER you have purchased a Santa Photo set”. I try to explain that I don’t intend on getting in line and having my son take a picture with Santa, I just want the background, to which she replies “You still have to purchase a photo set, ma’am” (said in that ‘oh so pleasant way’ that southern women have of insulting you through a smiling set of teeth). Fine, I say, what is your cheapest package? She points to the “Santa Showcase Menu” and I about lost it. 18 different packages, NONE less than $30. You can get your picture on an ornament, a door knocker, a stocking or even a hologram sticker for your Christmas card, but not for less than $30. How about if I just want the photo on a disk, I ask? Oh, that’s only $14.99, she says. GREAT, I reply. To which she finishes….with the purchase of our basic package of $19.99 for wallet sized photos only.
She’s kidding, right? Nope, not even side smiling. I pretend to look through my purse and exclaim that I need to go to the ATM, and then shoot away from her like my stroller is on fire. I’m so incensed that I barely make it to the Auntie Anne’s for a pretzel and Cheerios date without cussing!

It’s not that I am cheap, I promise. I just can’t see spending like that at a time like this when I can take pictures myself elsewhere. I just don’t want to pay $40 for an outfit and $30 for some pictures of a day my son will most likely remember most for the reams of wrapping paper he gets to tear rather than the gifts he gets or photos he takes.

But I couldn’t go without SOME pictures, so take a look at some of the “home studio” pics that I took and leave me a comment to tell me what you think. I know I’m not going to get calls from Annie Leibovitz to be a stand in, but I think they came out pretty good.

And while you’re looking, take a minute to reflect on all the free things that Christmas brings that are even greater than gifts and pictures – like the beauty of a child’s smile!

Roman on the couch in his Christmas outfit

Cool and collected pose

I don't know what he's doing in this one - I just think its funny!

Neighborhood Watch

2008-12-18T13:15:00.000-05:00

If you’ve read the recent blogs or visited with Roman lately, you know his new favorite past time is standing. Actually, not just standing, but pulling up and standing and cruising around. I think he’s really getting into the whole ability to see the world from a whole new angle, and honestly, I get where he’s coming from. It must be pretty boring looking at the world from a sitting or laying position for 7+ months. Now that he’s got the freedom to change it up, I guess it’s his prerogative. (head nod to Bobby Brown).

One afternoon, my mother called me from home to tell me about something new Roman was doing. She’s good like that – she knows that it kills me to be away from him all day at work and miss out on seeing him learn new things, so she generally tells me right away so I can see when I get home. Today’s call was hard to understand, because my mother was laughing so hard. She informed me that my son had found windows, and with windows, the joy of spying on the neighbors. Apparently, my mother was teaching him how to pull up on the windowsill when he noticed some folks walking outside and was instantly hooked. For 15 minutes, he stood and watched cars, people, dogs and other various activity take place, all the while looking like a curious but nosy neighbor. When my mother tried to move him away, he fussed terribly. So when I came home, I found him glancing out the glass with a curiously accusatory look on his face, like he was just waiting for someone to mess up. Sorta like that skit on In Living Color, with the lady on the stoop. Ya’ll know who I mean.

Anyways, later that night, I took him to his room where he immediately found more windows and peered out into the night intently. When I tried to take him to his bath, he protested until I put him back down for him to peer at the gate in front of our house to see what was going on. See for yourself:

Personally, I narrated for another 15 minutes after I stopped the tape and not once did he move or acknowledge me. He was in his own world. I pretended he was the blue haired lady in Women of Brewster’s Place who kept yelling “I seent ya, I seent ya!”. Hilarious – at least to me.

When "being mobile" has nothing to do with your phone

2008-12-08T15:12:00.000-05:00

Many of you know this, but Roman has started to assert his independence through movement. Namely crawling, if you can call it that, but also in his need to pull up on everything and show you how he can stand. The crawling has been interesting. It started about a month ago as a low belly, quazi-military crawl (picture the actors in Platoon) and has now evolved into a crazy version of the Worm that you saw people do at break-dancing parties back in the day. This is primarily bc Roman doesn’t believe that you should move your knees once your on them…he thinks you should actually only push off of your feet and drag yourself on your arms. We initially worried, but it was so damn funny, worry quickly turned to amusement. See for yourself:

As for the standing, this is a fairly recent phenomenon. I came in his room one morning and found him standing up, holding onto the crib bars and surveying all around him like the ruler that he is. When he saw me watching him in awe, he simply let go with one hand and pointed at me, as if to say, “You – go get my breakfast whilst I relish the land that surrounds me”. Needless to say, I got his breakfast.

Apparently, the standing is born out of my parent’s desire to teach him how to walk early, since he seems to be annoyed by crawling despite it being his only means to movement. I was an early walker – I started around 10 months – and my parents tried to slow me down by putting me in those pajamas with no feet. You know the ones – they make Maggie Simpson wear them and it creates in a child the ability to do a quick shuffle while balancing themselves. Its amusing people, but please, don’t do it to your kids. They may end up like me!

So Nana and Big Daddy started giving Roman things he could pull up on to practice standing. First the pack and play sides, then the outside of his Exersaucer, and even the sofa. But nothing compares to his first love for climbing – his laundry basket. If ever you are called upon to watch Roman (and we call lots of folks, so this is not totally unheard of) feel free to use this plastic apparatus to provide him hours of entertainment and an easy way to wear him out.

I think he might become a judge – he beats things like he’s carrying a gavel!

All of this apparently points to the fact that our baby is growing up and becoming a big boy who one day will walk and talk and do all the things big boys do. In the meantime, all I can do is tape him learning and plan to use it as leverage when he starts dating some hussy that I don’t like.

See No Evil, Speak No Evil, Smell No Evil

2008-11-25T22:37:00.000-05:00

I am going to preface tonight’s entry by saying that, if you are faint-hearted or have a weak stomach; you may want to skip this one. For all others who are brave or stupid or too damn curious to know better (or ANY parents out there, bc this will undoubtedly be old hat for you), read on, but promise not to judge me too harshly. Remember I AM a new mom….

When we’re in town, Saturday’s in the Bostick household are Gymboree days. For my non-mommies, Gymboree is a class-styled program for babies 3 months and older that teaches socialization, introduces music and memorization and encourages growth by mimicking others. Parents (mainly moms, but I have a lot of dads at my location) bring their children and attend class with them for roughly 50 minutes, singing songs and interacting in Gymboree’s indoor playground set up. Yep, that’s right, its basically a monthly social network for adults to meet up and talk about their kids while measuring their children’s progress against others, all while masquerading as a learning experience. But since I’m one of the brainwashed ones, I continue to tout its great educational value (smiles)

After Saturday’s Gymboree class, Roman had a playdate with our neighbor Camila and her daughter Sofia, who is one week younger than Roman. We went to lunch and Roman had cheerios for the first time with Sofia. A few Cheerios and a bottle of milk later, it was time for Roman’s afternoon stinky. If you will recall, I mentioned earlier in my blogging that Roman is a fairly noisy baby when it comes to going number 2. His grunts are unmistakable and Maurice and I often have to try to talk over his noises when we’re out in public and he’s doing his thing.

This day, Roman was his usual “outspoken” self, but for longer than usual. I attributed that to the Cheerios and the fact that he had an audience. But when he finally stopped and I picked him up to go change him, his warm booty and serene grin should have been my warning. Instead, I traipsed to the bathroom as if it was just another routine changing…when it was anything but. (no pun intended)

The changing room at the restaurant was in one of the only two stalls. I took Roman in and laid him down. This was my first problem. You see, Roman has recently learned how to sit up from a laying down position and now that’s ALL he wants to do. So when you lay him down to change him, it’s like a dance. Up and down up and down. This time when I laid him down, though, I stripped off his bottoms and felt an ooze of stinky coat the back of his legs. All I could think is “this is not good”. But before I could fully even comprehend that comment, Roman had sat up on the table, hands at his sides…and resting comfortably in the stinky from his jeans. Now I’ve got stinky on his legs AND hands. Holding his arms out in front of him, I break open the wipes and remember immediately why only mothers should be allowed to pack for babies. Because when dad packs, he is only worried about what he’s SEEN happen, not what COULD happen. So when my husband left only 8 wipes in the travel pack, its bc that amount is sufficient on most days. This, however, is not most days.

I take two wipes and clear his hands while simultaneously dragging him away from the remaining stinky. But now he’s crying and I’m down two wipes and his legs are dragging stinky all over the changing pad and table. The clothes are a loss, so I toss them in the trashcan along with the diaper and 2 wipes. Now I have a naked baby on a changing pad with stinky along the pad and table plus hands that are not totally clean…who wants me to hold him! He won’t stop crying and by now I’m sure I have an audience, so I strip off MY sweater so he won’t get that mess on me, use two more wipes to ensure we’re good, and pick him up…holding him out in front of me like a specimen. 2 more wipes to get the stinky off his legs and I’m thinking we might be okay. Until Roman wiggles out of my hands and steps back on the table right into more stinky. Now we’re clean from head to ankles, but our feet are a problem. With only 2 wipes left, I can clean my son’s feet or the changing table. Every self respecting mother knows what I did - I opted for the feet.

Searching his changing bag for the water I carry for his bottles, I take a clean shirt, soak it with water and wipe him all over, just to be sure. The shirt is immediately also a loss and thus tossed, I get him dressed in a pair of pajamas I have in the bag (again, a daddy thing) and I have a clean baby….and a filthy changing table. I’m out of wipes, clothes to discard and options. With a pair of feet anxiously waiting outside the bathroom door for access to the stall, I use two diapers to wipe what I could from the table, trashed the changing pad and closed up the table. Its not as I found it, but unless the person behind me is a mother waiting to change her own child, its safe for at least as long as it would take me to tip off a cleaning person to the issue (anonymously from my cellphone, of course)

I emerge from the stall 15 min later and rush out of the door. I apologize to Roman’s play date about how busy I am and flee the scene with a clean baby, a wrinkled sweater and a guilty conscious. How could I leave like that, knowing someone else’s child could be headed there? Well, you’ll be happy to know that, as I was walking out, someone was emerging from the bathroom and requesting a staff person to clean up what they could smell but obviously not see. I felt terrible about not owning up to my actions, but convinced myself that any new mother would understand. And with the cleaning crew already rectifying the situation, there was no one to tell. So I left content to speak no evil while my stinky monster slept peacefully in the backseat, at least 3 pounds lighter.

The Young and the Breastless, or Ode to the Breast Pump

2008-11-24T11:04:00.000-05:00

Any of you who have kept up with my life as a new mom have heard me rant about breastfeeding. And not about breastfeeding itself – which I think is great – but about breast PUMPING, which I do NOT think is great. The bottles, the cleaning, the constant sound of machinery…trust me, if you are one of those people who thinks everything about motherhood is beautiful, this can change your mind. Breast pumping became such a point of contention for me that I even had my best friend and comedienne write some haikus for me on it. They went a little like this:

Breast milk in the fridge
Everybody knows it’s mine
I feel like a cow

Pumping at my desk
Sorry you had to see that
You should learn to knock

Read the rest of the entry - here, it still makes me laugh!

Anyhoo – Roman has always been fine taking a bottle, so the transition from breastfeeding at home to pumping and feeding bottles when I went back to work was easy. Everyone told me that was a good thing, since it makes weaning a lot easier too. My initial plan was to nurse/pump until the New Year and then start weaning before 1 year, but you know what they say about plans.

In the last month, I can say that I have gotten lazy about pumping. At work, nothing ruins the productivity of my day like stopping to lock my door, break out the pump and turn up my music loud enough to drown out the sound of lactation. So, with Roman getting older and eating solid foods more, I kinda slacked off and missed a day (or four) of pumping at work. He didn’t seem to mind and I was happy with the distraction out of my day. Especially since I had an entire freezer full of backup and my handy-dandy pump to turn things around at any minute…or so I thought.

Now as every pumping mother knows, without “demand” there is limited supply, so days went by without me pumping at work and my milk dramatically dropped down. Because I couldn’t tell how much milk meltdown we were talking about, I thought I’d finally pump one afternoon to see what the damage was. 25 minutes and only 2 oz later, I knew it was serious. (For reference, Roman eats 6-7 oz of milk/sitting and I use to pump twice that easily in 30 min!).

Worried that there wouldn’t be any milk left for little man, I frantically spent 3 days pumping as often as possible to try and increase what little was left. No dice. 2 oz went to 1.5 went to 1 and I started to panic. And then, something strange happened. In the mornings, Roman became “less than enthusiastic” about nursing certain times and pretty much wiggled out of my arms in favor of the high chair and pureed pears. Now, given the option, I too would probably choose a meal of fruit over ridiculously thin liquid, but Roman was always a breastmilk for breakfast baby.

Then, when he did nurse, it was for much less time than usual. Finally, just this past Wednesday, I tried to nurse him before he went down for bed and he pushed me away in favor of, get this, a bottle full of WATER! So for the next few days, we drank only formula and never nursed and this seemed to be his preference. In essence, Roman weaned HIMSELF from breastmilk!

Assured my every mother in town that I would know when my milk dried up by excruciating pain, I was confident that if he changed his mind we could get back on the milk train. But after a Saturday morning in front of ESPN for an hour pumping without a drop of milk, I can officially say, we have stopped breastfeeding.

I thought I would be more emotional about it all. Regardless of the pain-in-the-neck process of pumping, nothing made me feel closer to Roman than our mornings nestled in the rocker sharing “breakfast”. What would I do now that he wasn’t going to need me to nurse from?

I learned this morning what LABF is like (Life After BreastFeeding). This morning marked his first straight night with no breastmilk and morning of formula. And he seemed fine. We still had a night bottle, still read our favorite nighttime stories – even still had our morning in the chair watching dawn – just this time, it was with a bottle. He even practiced holding it himself in a recent show of independence. And he still spent the time staring into my eyes while I told him stories about how great his day was going to be. So it wasn’t the end of the world as he knew it….and I think we’re both going to be just fine.

We'll be comin' round the mountain when we come!

2008-11-17T12:56:00.000-05:00

I love family outings. When I was a child, we use to go someplace almost every weekend as a family. The zoo, the shore or just to the park to play outside. My brother and I are 7 years apart, so wherever it was, it had to entertain a pre-teen and a wild toddler, or an angst-ridden adolescent and an overly extroverted kindergartener. Yeah – my parents had to work extra hard to keep us busy.

Even before Roman was born, I knew I would want our family to do the same things. Now Atlanta is no New Jersey (and by that, I mean near the city, shore and mountains in no more than an hour for each) but it’s not too bad. We’ve already done Savannah as a family, so this fall; I wanted us to experience the mountains. Plenty of choices for those in Georgia, especially during the autumnal season. So we loaded up the kid, the parents and the grandparents and headed to Helen GA.

Helen is a quaint, Bavarian-esque town in the mountains of GA about 90 minutes from downtown. And if you have a vague understanding of “Bavarian” but no real visual to accompany – think Swiss Miss Cocoa and pudding! That’s right, hundreds of little Swiss Alps style-cabins and chalets, but they don’t stop at the residences. Even the Wendy’s was decked out in true Swiss style.

We arrived around 11 and headed for the town’s most noted outdoor attraction, Ruby Falls. The guide said that, to reach the Falls, we would have a “short, 10-min walk”. This does not sound daunting to do with 3 grandparents and an 8-mth old, but in actuality, the walk was more of a hike and 10 minutes was more like 25. In any event, at the top, we paused to take pictures of each other and the beautiful waterfalls. Roman talked to all of the tourists and charmed people, as usual, with his ability to smile non-stop at ANY woman he sees. (side-eye to my husband, who probably taught him that while I was out one day!)

I don't know if I can declare that Roman is much of an “outdoorsy-baby”, but overall, I think he liked it. Daddy put him in the Baby Bjorn (note to all fathers – this thing looks lame until you think of having to carry 17 lbs of squirming baby in your arms) and he enjoyed finally being able to travel around and see things other than the sides of his car seat and a backwards view of the world around him as he rides in the car or stroller. His head was darting all over and he turned to almost every sound there was…which was a lot! Great for an experience, not so great for pictures.

We trekked down from there to a small restaurant called Bigg Daddy’s (in honor of my father – who is known only by that moniker by all of his grandkids). Roman was less than enthusiastic about the stop, except that they had a big screen with football and Mommy had Banana Apple Blueberry baby food (his most recent fave). After he saw them both, all was right with the world.

The trip ended with a drive home and a stop for fresh apple pie from a local farmers market. If you haven’t ever stopped for pie at a farmers market, GO. NOW. Like seriously, stop reading and get up. My girlfriend Rhonda reminded me recently of how great fresh pies from local farmers markets can be and when we passed this one, I couldn’t resist. Roman couldn’t enjoy it of course – but Daddy and I made sure we split an extra slice for him.

All in all, the trip was a great reminder of how important it is to get out with your kids and see the world. Sometimes I find myself frustrated at how narrow minded our culture can be and then I remember that is because many of us only know our own narrow world. I was so impressed to see the rainbow of people out in Helen – blacks, Hispanics, even a number of Asian-Americans were out enjoying nature and seeing life beyond their backyard. I hope there is more of that in our future with Roman – I know it helped make me the person I am today.

Blink of an Eye

2008-11-12T15:08:00.000-05:00

Since becoming a parent, there are a ton of things people say to me now that I rarely heard before. Cliché sayings are all the rage when you are talking to other parents, and with folks repeating to you the words uttered to them time and time again when they became newbies.

There is one particular phrase of unsolicited advice that all seasoned mommies give to new moms they meet. “Enjoy it while you can…they grow so fast that childhood will be over in a blink of an eye”. Now, anyone who has sat up with a newborn through colic, or waited for a child to get over a cold, or even prayed for a favorable learning curve for their kid when it comes to potty training knows that sometimes childhood feels like it will be around FOREVER. And generally that’s what I thought whenever someone said this to me…until this weekend.

I probably need to give background – Roman has become a very “mobile” baby in the last few weeks. Rolling, crawling, grabbing even pulling up are now daily routines versus occasional practices as before. While we were playing in the living room Monday, Roman was trying to go from sitting to crawling by reaching towards his feet. He was almost there, toes almost in mouth too, when he instead tumbled forward onto his face. Now, he was only 2-3 inches off the ground, and I think he was more surprised than hurt, but he did his patented cry that is all open mouth and red face with no sound. This has been a Roman staple since he was born and usually lasts a few seconds – max. This cry, however, was stifled in his chest for what seemed like 10-15 seconds easily. Then, when it broke and he seemed ready to wail, he instead fell limp in my arms as if he had fallen unconscious.

Panic has never entered my body so quickly, nor taken over every fiber of my being so completely as it did at that moment. Things flashed before me that no mother ever wants to consider – is he paralyzed? did he do damage to his brain? God forbid – is he dead? I couldn’t process things fast enough and all I could think was that I would not be able to recover if my son died in my arms that day.

In the end, he wasn’t brain dead or unconscious – he had only briefly fainted. I patted his back and screamed his name and within moments his eyes sprung open like a doll and he was crying with lungs full of air. Turns out, when babies hold their breath like that in a cry, they often forget to breathe and hold their breath long enough for them to faint. Though not dangerous, it is completely nerve wrecking to a parent, especially when you don’t know about it in advance. What’s more nerve wrecking, though, is the thought that somehow this person who has been in your life for such a short amount of would no longer be there anymore. And it makes you recognize that your life will never be the same again. You will never think of just yourself and your choices and mistakes will never again just be your own. It took 9 months for this child to be in my arms, but in the blink of an eye, he could be gone forever – and THAT is what every mother should learn to appreciate while she can.

Hello Mr. President

2008-11-06T12:21:00.000-05:00

I know I have done a terrible job of keeping up to date with Roman’s blog, but I have good reason. I initially planned on making sure I brought everyone up to speed on the last few months of his life before I started talking about all the new and exciting things he is into now, but those are “the best laid plans of Mice and Men”. Now I’m just happy when I get an extra hour in my life to shave my legs and try to get my uni-brow handled. Thank GOD for Daylight savings time!

As much as I have stalled by trying to do a summation of the last few months, last night’s events cannot be delayed even by my insane need for order. Maurice and I spent the evening watching the election of the first ever African-American President – President-Elect Barack Obama.

Despite what had been weeks of the nation hearing that Obama was all but a lock for the presidency, last night still had an overly emotional effect on millions of Americans who see his candidacy, campaign and ultimately his election as a sign of what we truly can accomplish in this country when we live out the values we so often claim to ascribe to. It was historic for all the obvious reasons and for many that are not. It showed what we as a people can do while also highlighting that many needed his election to understand what is truly possible. It gave hope because it reminded so many of how hopeless we once were. And it transcended race because, in watching the sea of faces that decorated Grant Park for his acceptance speech, no one could say they did not see themselves in at least one of those in attendance. I don’t know about your household, but mine was full of tears and expectancy.

While all of this was going on, my 7 ½ month old son was asleep upstairs in his crib. I tried to keep him awake long enough to see some of the monumental moments, but anyone who has tried to keep an infant awake knows it’s a lost cause. Instead, I was content with visiting his bedside and praying over my son, as I do every night. But this night, I added a silent prayer for Malia and Sasha Obama, whose father has ascended to the highest office in the land, making them open for praise but more likely for criticism and condemnation. I prayed that any hatred or bias that people held would melt away when they realize that we all pretty much want the same things in life. A chance to succeed, a community to embrace and an opportunity to give our families something even better than we could have ourselves.

I headed to bed thinking that, after all is said and done, the unity and opportunities for minorities that was almost unthinkable in many's eyes would now not only be acceptable but (dare I say it) expected of his generation. That is a lot to place on the shoulders of tommorow's youth. But they come from good stock and will be raised with the role models so many others did not have, so I suspect that they will be just fine.

Where's the Beef?

2008-11-05T16:50:00.001-05:00

Any of you who know my husband know that he is not a fan of Halloween. Its one of those holidays that he could truly do without, which normally means nothing to me except for the fact that THIS Halloween, we have a BABY! I mean, what is Halloween if its not an excuse for making your children look ridiculous and stocking up on photos to use for blackmail at a later date?

In order to pick the most appropriate (read: demeaning) costume for Roman’s first Halloween, I enlisted the help of my closest girlfriends (Rhonda, Erin and Janpeg) as well as my mother, who is the real conspirator behind these events. After rejecting an owl, turtle and air freshener costume (seriously), we settled on a cow. I mean, its black and white, chubby and adorable. Just SCREAMS Roman J

As luck would have it, Roman’s Gymboree class threw a Pumpkin Patch Party, which is apparently the politically correct way to refer to Halloween now. For $15, you can take your kid to a party with other kids he doesn’t know and climb on toys in your outfit while parents take pictures and compare their kids to others. You know I was in.

The party was completely for the parents, but Roman was a champ. He let mommy and daddy take all kinds of pictures and even let Nana blow bubbles in his face before he realized how hot and annoyed he was in the fleece outfit in Atlanta’s Indian summer. Then – the tears…..

As you can see from the picture, the tears only served to make this event even more comical to all involved, including his father (who after a little prodding was willing to admit that his son in a cow outfit was hilarious and well worth celebrating a pagan holiday for an hour). In the end, we took the hat off and let him freestyle in the extra-hot onesie with all the other kids who lost parts of their digs. I can’t say that it was as much fun without the ears, but I think it gave him a bit of his dignity back.

Ann the Great

2008-11-05T16:13:00.001-05:00

On October 14th, my Grandmother turned 90. Despite being a huge event, it was almost impossible for us to agree on what to get/do for her to celebrate. See, at 90, my grandmother has pretty much done, seen, experienced or heard enough to hate any and everything you could think of as a gift. The only thing she loves is fish sandwiches from Libby Hill and her great-grandbabies. So for her 90th, the kids, grandkids and great-grands and headed to Greensboro to celebrate HER way.

Our idea was to take a family picture so that she would have formal pictures of herself and the kids to display in her house. Every since Roman was born, I’ve been sending both she and my other grandmother pictures every few weeks since both of them live outside of Georgia. Ann the Great (my mother’s mother, whose new nickname comes from Bill Cosby’s show) has forgotten her great grandchildren’s names too often, so her solution is to call them all “buster”. That’s a step up from calling them “buddy”, which is what she calls her grandkids when she can’t remember.

Driving to Greensboro, I recalled the days after Roman was born and my grandmother’s excitement. She, like most of the folks in the family, had wanted a baby girl since we have only boys in this generation. But one look at Roman and she was hooked. The entire time we visited, she kept my 6-week old son nestled in the crook of her arm while they rested together on the couch. It brought tears to my eyes to see her so excited and to know that two people almost a century apart even had the chance to see one another.

The photo shoot ended up being the best idea we could have ever done. The kids had a blast and my grandmother enjoyed getting “gussied up” as she put it and taking pictures. Of course, trying to keep 3 boys under 7 in line while you photograph them and 7 adults who all think they know how to plan a photo op is a little like squeezing sand. But in the end, the shots turned out great and everyone had a good time.

There was a moment in the shoot where the kids were running around and my parents were trying to get Roman to smile and I turned to catch my grandmother’s gaze. She looked like a woman proud to be viewing the generations she birthed dance around her in all their glory. She looked grand, peaceful and aware of what she was blessed to have in her life and to be able to enjoy. It was a look I pray to be able to have on my own face one day.

2008-09-15T11:09:00.000-04:00

I might as well just put it out there – Roman is a gassy baby. If you ask my Granny Ann, she will say that Roman “came from a long line of gassy people” including almost all my great uncles and my Grandfather. And a little gas in a baby is apparently normal. The kind of gas that was plaguing my son from about 6 weeks on seemed to border on ridiculous. He would eat, then we would spend hours trying to get a burp while he writhed in pain. It was worst in the evenings, at his night feedings, when he would fall asleep eating (sleep was good) but wake screaming with a trapped burp or fart (not good). At his 2 month appointment, I mentioned it to the doctors, who also said it was normal. But that night, Roman had a fit of epic proportions. Maybe it was the shots he received, maybe it was the Cajun pasta I had at lunch that he probably got a few hours later. But in any event, that night he was twisted in his face and so clearly uncomfortable that I didn’t know what to do. Maurice was out of town traveling, so it was just me and Roman

There comes a moment in parenting, I’ve been told, where you are clearly aware that you are unprepared. The best you can hope for is that whatever foolish attempt at trying to respond appropriately doesn’t harm your child in the process. I called the doctor’s office and spoke to the nurse on call, who assured me that it sounded like just gas and would likely be gone once he went to the bathroom. When I told her that did little to help me handle my screaming baby who was obviously in pain, she told me to “take heart – it won’t be this way forever”. Sitting with Roman in my arms, him crying and sometimes me doing the same, we stayed like that for about 2 hours but it felt like an eternity. I couldn’t console him or fix the problem, and I felt worthless.

When he finally calmed down, I was able to rock him to sleep. It was nothing I did, he just “worked it out” on his own, no pun intended. I held him in my arms and looked at him, marveling at how not 5 minutes ago the look on his face had brought me to tears and now his angelic face could do the same, but in a good way. I made all kind of promises to him: that I would never let him hurt again, that I would find a doctor who could fix it, that I would never eat spicy food again. All while he cooed in his sleep as if nothing had happened. It’s amazing how easily children seem to forgive you even if you aren’t quite ready to forgive yourself. I count it as a blessing, though. At least this is one thing I think can save me from a lifetime of therapy sessions.

Cake Appropriate

2008-09-15T11:05:00.000-04:00

When I was growing up, we did birthdays pretty big in my family, but not in the traditional sense. We didn’t have a ton of McDonald’s parties (though those were my favs) and I didn’t have a big Sweet Sixteen (cause my Dad bought me a car and my mom though that was enough!), but we did make sure everyone felt special on their big day. My mom would sing to us at whatever hour we were born, which in my case is around 3am. So for as far back as I can remember, my birthday’s were always ushered in to the sound of my mom singing Happy Birthday and my Dad usually clapping somewhere offbeat with his eyes closed.

The tradition morphed when my mother first became a grandmother, at least that’s when I think it started. She may have done the same for my brother and me and I just can’t recall. But right after my oldest nephew was born (the first grand) we had a birthday party for him in the hospital to celebrate being 1 day old. We had cupcakes and candles – the works. We also did it on his 1 month birthday and for every “major” first year milestone after that. 3 months, 6 months, you name it – we celebrated it.

On Roman’s 1-day birthday, we couldn’t do cupcakes, but Mom and I sang to him in his plastic crib at the hospital. But you can be sure that on his 1st month milestone, we broke out cupcakes, candles and cameras and celebrated his life. And now I understand exactly why my mother thought the need to have cake for her babies just about every 30 days. People probably think its silly, and Roman will likely recall nothing, but it reminded me that life sometimes goes by so fast that you don’t even get to recall the day before, and celebrating often lets us reflect on how special each day in the life of a child really is. Happy 1 month birthday, son. And many many more!

Welcome to the Club - The First Days

2008-08-18T12:20:00.000-04:00

Parenthood is a club with immediate membership following birth. No one checks your credentials or asks for your SAT scores before they let you in, although it seems a pretty important clique to be joining, so you’d think they might. But everyone tells you that, once in the club, you develop these instincts and that’s all you need to survive. That, my friends, is not true. There is significant “on the job training” that you also need – but parents know that if they tell you about that up front, you might snub their club invite.

The night after Roman arrived seemed eerily easy to Maurice and I – at first. Despite the natural childbirth, I was in almost no pain afterwards and just excited to hold my son. After his first bath and some time under the sunlamps, we were finally whisked to the recovery suite to spend our first evening as a family. After a shower and unfolding the chair/couch/bed for Maurice, we settled in and just held our son. It was an amazing experience. Everything about him was small and new and fragile, and I watched my husband’s chest swell with pride just watching him sleep in my arms.

Everyone told us to use the hospital recovery time was most valuable for the time they give you alone (if you want it) the first night. (well, that and for stocking up on diapers and other stuff in your baby cart…don’t judge me – I paid for that stuff when I checked in, dammit!). So after almost 20 hours awake, we took them up on the offer and kept Roman overnight in the nursery the first night, bringing him to us just to nurse/eat. That next morning, we were alert and ready for our baby. He slept the majority of the time, but occasionally opened his eyes and looked around. People came and went and we were basking in the glow of how peaceful our little one was. Not a peep all day, not even when he was wet. We decided then and there that his disposition was a gift from God.

Around 10pm, we couldn’t stay awake any longer. But rather than send Roman back to the nursery, we wanted to keep him nearby us in the room. The nurses were happy to oblige and left us with his crib, baby cart and a smile (which in retrospect, was probably a smirk). You are probably a parent if you predicted this next part. Soundly asleep after feeding him an ounce, we are awakened to what sounds like the shrill screams of an aircraft fighter, or perhaps a fire alarm. Believing that we were under attack and fearful for our lives, Maurice and I almost fled the room before we realized that the sound was coming from our very own terrorist in our suite. After confirming he would not calm down by (a) trying to feed him or (b) trying to hold him nor by (c) trying to sing frightened lullabies to him, we called the nurses in a panic, confident that something was deathly wrong with our little one. After finally answering our page and hearing the panic in our voices, she asked what was wrong. To which we answered “Please come quick, we think something is wrong with our son.” “What are his symptoms? Are his lips blue, is he breathing, does he show signs of trauma?” she asked. “No,” we answered “he just won’t stop crying”.

There was a nice moments pause, where I think she disconnected immediately, but suffice to say she didn’t come. And he didn’t stop crying for at least a few more minutes, leaving us frazzled and worn. And it finally dawned on my husband and I that those instincts might simply be present in the form of FEAR. Not fear of our child, though he still employs a scream sometimes that chills my blood, but fear of the unknown. Like what to do when your child can’t tell you something hurts or is wrong. Or like the fear of how you teach a baby how to walk or talk or do something as simple as eat from a spoon (which is so much harder than you think!). Or the griping thought that, one day, your child will have to fend for himself in a world that you know personally is full of crime, prejudice, nepotism and other generally unfair characteristics that deflate even the happiest of people. It was that fear that made me hold onto Roman tightly that night, even after he stopped crying. But ironically, that fear gave way to comfort in us both, even if it would be short lived, b/c we knew that at least today, Mommy and Daddy are still able to dry his tears.

I'll Have What She's Having - Roman's Birth

2008-08-12T15:21:00.000-04:00

As a child, I dreamed about a lot of things I would do in the future. Where I would go to college, what my wedding would be like, even what I would say in my Oscar acceptance speech. What I did NOT think about was what I would prefer for my labor and delivery experience in pregnancy. So immediately after confirming Maurice and I were pregnant, I bought as many baby books as possible and started reading about the joy that is pregnancy, and every single book mentioned my need to have a “Birthing Plan”. Now, if you know me, you know I appreciate a well thought out plan and schedule as much as the next person (especially in Excel!) and as such, I pondered – what DID I want labor to be like? All I could come up with were the horror stories women shared with me over the years of 24 hour labors (that would be my brother) and breech babies (again, my brother) even almost mix ups after delivery (that would be me…you’d think my mom would have stopped at one kid, huh?). That evening, I was on the couch in my first week of bedrest watching a Baby Story. The woman in question was entering her 3rd day – yep, DAY not hour – of labor without enough progress to start pushing, but she was completely against any medication to help her. So for the better part of an hour, I listened to her moan and shift and grunt and generally be miserable until they finally cut enough time out to show the baby. It was about that time that I started my birthing plan with the following two words: Epidural, please. End of story, right?

Wrong. When the big day arrived, I was pretty much pain free for 90% of it. Maurice and I went to the doctor only after being persuaded by the nurse on the phone to come into the office for a “check” due to some rhythmic pains and finding myself 4cm dilated. By the time we reached Northside, I was 6 cm and still no pain. I even let a young girl clearly two steps from tearing the attendants face off go before me in line to register. Once in the gown - and with my handy dandy birthing plan firmly in the hands of my capable nurse - Maurice and I walked the hospital for the last time together as just us two. As we walked, a young lady was in her room with her anesthesiologist getting what I could only assume was “the good stuff” for her pending delivery. I smiled thinking that I would be having what she was having shortly, and holding my son shortly thereafter.

I was finally checked by my physician about 2 hours after arriving and advised that I was “progressing so well that they were going to break my water”. It sounded like a set up, and I think he saw the skepticism in my eyes, so he followed it up with “I see so few women who can handle pain like you. At almost 7cm and no pain, you probably don’t even need an epidural – you seem built for this” This, I feel, is an unfair statement to say to a woman who has yet to ever feel the pain of DELIVERING a baby. Yes, the lead up was fine, but so is the swim you take before you realize you’re drowning. Ignorance took over (and probably a bit of ego…hell, he said he rarely saw women like me!) and I dismissed the epidural and let them break my water. Within 20 minutes, the pain showed up with a suitcase to announce it wasn’t just passing by. Still able to handle, I got through the next hour by squeezing Maurice’s hand and picturing Roman’s face I saw countless times on the ultrasound. What followed, though, I was NOT ready for.

At about 70 minutes post-water break, I felt the kind of sensation that can only be explained as “hot pain”. I finally caved in and asked a nurse to get me an epidural, to which she said “of course”. Not more than 2 steps out the door, I told Maurice to call her back b/c I was pretty sure the baby was on his way. Maurice begged anyone who would listen to come in and check on me, but all dismissed it as first mom jitters and said I had plenty of time…it had only been 5 hours of labor. The doctor, still in street clothes, arrived 5 min later and announced that maybe it WAS time to have a baby. Before my husband could make it to the top of the bed, he was recruited to grab a leg and get to the business of helping me push. I only had one question: WHERE IS MY EPIDURAL?? The doctor looked me in my eye and smiled and said – In about the time it would take for the meds to kick in, you’ll have something even better than that – a baby.

He was right – it was only a few moments before I was greeting my son (albeit moments remembered to the chorus of my vehemently refusing to push out of sheer anger at my delayed medical cocktail). And the pain wasn’t so bad that I couldn’t focus on the joy of knowing that each push got me closer to seeing Roman face-to-face.

But I am telling you all of this in the event that you get to where I was and find your birthing plan a thing of the past – its not so bad to have your experience not be as scripted by you. I like to think of it like being at a restaurant, eyeing your neighbor’s fresh slice of hot apple pie and saying to the waiter – “I’ll have what she’s having” - just to find out the waiter is God…and you’re a diabetic. Trust me, its okay to go with the fruit cup instead – either way, it will be the sweetest thing you’ll ever have in life.

Welcome to Roman's Empire

2008-08-01T15:59:00.000-04:00

Hello and Welcome to Roman’s Empire – the official blog started for the expressed purpose of following the life and times of my son, Roman Isaiah Bostick. It may sound funny that I call this blog “official” (as if there are knock off accounts out there chronicling the birth of my first child!), but trust me, I’m still pinching myself daily that I even have a child to write about! Many of you know that, for years, I thought this day would never come. And now many years and diagnoses later, I have been blessed with the most precious bundle of joy I could imagine. (Let that be a testament to anyone who doubts the all-encompassing power of God…He can blow your mind at ANY time!) He has changed me in so many ways, including being the only catalyst that could ever make me venture onto the Internet for the purpose of writing and posting, or for that matter, doing anything outside of email and Google-ing! (Shout out to my best friend Rhonda and her husband, who have an unnatural addiction to the art of Goggle research)

Since Roman’s birth back on March 19th, 2008, I don’t think a day has passed that I haven’t uttered a comment or two to someone I know about how much he amazes me. I am such a braggart about him, as well as paparazzi. And judging by the many people who ask me about him on a daily basis or request pictures to see how he’s growing (and BOY, is he growing - but they still say he's only in the 50th percentile), I imagine you all don’t mind my shenanigans. So think of this blog as therapy anytime you are suffering from “Roman Withdrawal”, and let it be your place to find out all there is to know about the little man himself as he goes about growing up and showing out.

Being Roman’s mother has taught me a multitude of things in such a short period of time, but one of the most important things I have learned is that in life, you need to be flexible. Anyone who knows me knows this must be a recent realization, and probably one I’m still struggling with! But what pregnancy, scary complications, 3 months of bedrest yet only 5 hours of labor/delivery have shown me is that you are rarely in control as much as you think you are. The minute you become a parent, no matter how strong or intelligent or well read you are, you become slave to the mini-me you just birthed. So yes, I now except that I will probably not sleep past 7am again, that thinking of my son too much in a meeting will usually result in an ill-timed milk accident, that the idea of sleep training is a concept clearly created by a man (and a deaf one at that!) and that there is nothing on this planet that can compare to the joy I feel in seeing Roman’s smile each day I come home from work. Yup – I’ve learned even though I gave birth to him, I am a slave in Roman’s Empire – and I wouldn’t have it any other way!