Boy Oh Boyers

Rowan and I are sitting at the dining table having breakfast. Rowan is efficiently munching down some bananas and Cheerios with a big cup of milk alongside. I'm having a bagel and drinking some coffee, and it seemed like a good time to write the update of little things that have been going on lately.

The biggest new thing is that Rowan is making the transition from saying "that?" about everything he comes in contact with to naming things as he encounters them. He still only says the first syllable of pretty much all his words, but he strings the syllables together now. For instance, when we've finished reading a book, he says "all done", which sounds like "ah-duh". When he picks up a ball, he says "bah", and when he wants juice he says "joo". When he pets Angel he says "dah", and when I ask him what does the dog say, he makes a forceful airy woof that comes out like "eff", usually with lots of spit.

In addition to increasing his verbal fluency, Rowan has started some of the classic little-kid physical games with Tom and me. For example, Tom lies on the floor and Rowan walks up to Tom's feet and gets an airplane ride. (Mommy's feet are a little too small and Rowan turns red in the face from lack of air if we try to play this game!) Of course there's an awesome game that Rowan and Mommy have learned, and it's great fun (at least the first 10 times). Rowan sits on my foot and wraps his arms...

Well, I'm being told "ah-duh", and surely enough the bananas and Cheerios are gone, so Rowan is "all done". Guess I'll finish this post a little later!

Ok, it's now many hours later than I originally started this post, and I'm getting down to some business of working since Yolanda and Kayla are here today, as usual on Wednesdays, having an awesome time with Rowan. I'm in the loft at the desk with earplugs in (also as usual). Their joyous shrieks still come through, which I don't mind a bit. :-)

Oh yes, the "riding Mommy's foot" game is where I left off. You can picture it, right? He sits on my foot and wraps his arms and legs around my leg, and I walk around, one foot laden with his weight. Rowan doesn't hold on reliably enough to be lifted off the ground as I walk (and the physical therapist who's treating me for back trouble would probably wring my neck if she saw us playing that way anyhow), so it's more of a drag-Rowan-across-the-floor-on-Mommy's-foot game. It's a real winner in his book, though!

Another little update is about preschool. Rowan is really thriving in his classroom where he spends Tuesdays and Thursdays from about 8:30am until about 4:30pm. His day includes morning snack, play time outside and inside, lunch, nap, afternoon snack, more playing inside and outside, and "group learning time" several times throughout the day where the children work on learning colors, numbers, singing songs with motions, and reading books. His musical interest is even higher since starting preschool: he does some motions to "Twinkle, Twinkle, Little Star", and he clearly sings the first two words (and mutters the rest of the first line) to "Row, Row, Row Your Boat"!

The last news I'll give (lest guilt overwhelm me for not working this very instant) is about how Rowan has become quite the climber. A few months ago he started climbing into his child-size rocking chair. A few weeks ago he started climbing the ottoman in his room, that has a pull-out footrest, as if it were a rock climbing wall. Today brought the best climbing action yet. The scene was set beginning last night, when I decided to sleep on the couch with the television on mute so I could wake up in the middle of the night and see election results. (Mind you I went to bed at 9pm so the "middle of the night" might not be what you think.) Anyway, the election was decided when I woke up for a midnight potty break, so I abandoned my nest on the couch and joined Tom in the bed. This morning Rowan discovered my pile of blankets and pillows on the couch, and he pulled them down to the floor where he proceeded to use them as a launchpad for speedy climbs onto the couch, a step he had never been able to make unassisted. I was preparing his breakfast and watching him climb up and down, up and down the blanket pile. He'd go up, reach the couch, sit triumphantly, turn around, and go back down. Then he decided sitting was too boring, so he climbed up, stood on the couch, tagged the headrest, then climbed down. Then, it got really interesting. He climbed up, crawled across the couch, proceeded to crawl across the end table (shoving coasters to the floor as he went), and then flop into the neighboring recliner! I made a quick trip to supervise more closely, because I figured he might just dive head-first out of the recliner since there was no pile of pillows to climb down. He didn't, though. He crawled back across the end table and onto the couch, and back down the mountain of fluff the same way he had come. Look out, hiking trails! Here we come!

Somewhere along the way in my childhood, somebody told me I can do anything I decide to do. "Anything you put your mind to, you can accomplish," this wise person told me. I honestly have no idea whether it was a single person or many people, or maybe it was just an idea that I pieced together from being told similar things over a long period of time. Regardless of how it came to be, I have realized the idea, plain and simple, became part of my system of beliefs. I never really thought about it consciously, and I never questioned it. It has probably been the source of motivation at times when I was about to embark on a particularly challenging task. I might start to feel sorry for myself, thinking I'm not smart enough or not strong enough to do something, and I would hear a voice in my head saying, "Kristy, you can do it! Anything you decide to do, you can do it!"

The reason I've thought of this is because of the recent presidential election. For the first time in our nation's history, a black person has been elected to hold the highest office in our government. His race might have given Barack Obama a tougher row to hoe than if he had not been of a minority race. But in addition to that, he was a total newcomer to the national political scene -- his first real political appearance was just four years ago at the Democratic convention, and ever since then he's worked his butt off to say what he believes and get people to join in his cause. Whether we agree with him politically or not, his accomplishment is striking from a sense of sheer willpower and determination! I hope many more parents, who may not have thought to do so before, will tell their children they can grow up to be president if they decide to because of what has happened in front of us these last few months.

But this brings up the sticking point. You see, there are many wonderful things that children might one day grow up to do. However, it is simply impossible that one particular child can grow up to do absolutely anything he chooses. I'll choose an absurd example for illustration. Let's say I decided when I was young that I wanted to grow up to play professional basketball in the NBA. (Not the W-NBA, mind you. Just the NBA.) Let's say I made up my mind that was what I wanted to do, and I wasn't going to let anybody tell me I couldn't do it. Let's say I chose to ignore the fact that I was a female not a male and that I was only 5'2" and not 6'2" or taller. Obviously, this would be a ridiculous direction to choose for my life, because it would completely ignore the qualities with which I was born. I would stand only the most minuscule chance of success, and even if I did somehow attain success (you know, through a sex change operation or by lobbying to be permitted to play despite my gender, plus honing my physical skills so determinedly that I could somehow compete with people far, far larger than myself), the price I would have had to pay would have been that my life was consumed by achieving the goal, and I would have had little space for anything else.

Now, what does this have to do with anything? Well, here's what. My life is filled with tradeoffs and limitations. To start with the obvious, there are only so many minutes in a day, so I'm limited by time for sure. I'm also limited by the genetic makeup of my body. There are some things I can't do. Not that they are literally, completely, totally impossible, but that they are so very unlikely, and the cost of attaining them would be so ridiculously high, that they are effectively out of reach. For better or worse. Or. Wait. Maybe just for better.

Aren't we all here for a reason? Don't we all, regardless of our belief system, ultimately believe that we have a *purpose*? We might believe it's pre-ordained for us with great specificity, or we might believe we make it ourselves by our daily choices. Either way, there are some things we could choose to do that make more sense -- do more good -- than others. *Those* are the things we should be telling our children they can do if they put their minds to it, despite all the odds!

This is not to say that I believe the things we were "meant to do" are the things that are easy for us. To the contrary! I believe determination and hard work and resilience are critical to accomplishing anything of real value. But, to develop a belief we can do anything we decide to do...well...that's pretty close to believing we're God and not human. Isn't it? (And as a side note, my fellow Christians out there who are aghast because you think I don't believe Luke 1:36-37, I most assuredly do, and I'm happy to explain why nothing I'm saying here contradicts it. You can email me if you really want to hear about that.)

Anyway, what's got me all worked up is that there are psychological repercussions to this sneaky little belief I somehow caught like a virus. If ever there is something I can't do (and that situation arises regularly since I am, in fact, human and I live a finite physical existence), the voice in my head turns the logic around and says, "If you really wanted to do this, you could do it. You must not have made up your mind enough. You've failed." Well, little voice, you might seem right, but you're actually very wrong.

After returning from our trip to Georgia for Aunt Julie and Uncle Bobby's vow ceremony, we've been busy little bees. I had a big article deadline, and Grandmommy came up for a week to spend lots of time with Rowan while I spent lots of time working. The paper was successfully submitted, but not before we had a *very* stressful Sunday.

Rowan woke up coughing, wheezing, and lethargic. When he barely touched his breakfast and then threw it up, I knew we had to find an urgent care clinic. We found one, got there moments after they opened at 8am, and before we even signed in Rowan had thrown up again all over me. He was so sick, he could barely even lift his head up. Turns out his oxygen level was low, and as I had hesitantly suspected he required an inhaled steriod treatment to help clear up his breathing. That didn't quite do the trick, so he was off for chest x-rays with Daddy shepherding him (the nurse strongly encouraged me that Mommies don't do too well seeing their babies strapped into the contraption that keeps them still for the x-ray). After the chest x-rays came up clear, there was another inhaled steriod treatment, and finally Rowan was acting more like himself and we got to go home after spending over three hours at the clinic. In his transformation from a vomiting limp rag to a smiling little boy, he managed to charm his doctor and all the other staff he came into contact with. He left with a handful of Elmo stickers, and saying "eh-mo" all the way to the car.

Here's a lighthearted photo to celebrate Rowan being better and Mommy getting her paper submitted. This was in Grandmommy and Papa's yard in Georgia. Rowan saw a cat in the tree and thought it was a good spot for a boy, too. Enjoy!

Sorry about that; I didn't realize there haven't been any new pictures of the day for a couple of days already! Here's what we've been up to.

On Thursday I had to pick up Rowan from preschool early because he was running a 103.5 fever. We went straight to the doctor because over the weekend when we were at urgent care, that wonderful doctor had warned us that if he starts running a fever within the week, it could be a sign of a secondary infection from the virus and it would need immediate attention. Anyway, there was no sign of ear, nose, or throat infection causing the fever, so we were sent for another chest x-ray which was again clear. Thankfully that evening he quickly went back to a normal temperature and was his usual playful self, so all in all the fever had only lasted for part of the afternoon. His pediatrician called first thing the next morning to be sure he was fine, and he was -- he had slept well on Thursday night and by Friday you'd never have known anything was wrong the day before. The doctor said it was likely some new, unrelated virus he'd been exposed to, and that his body had successfully fought it off, with the side effect of running the high temperature. We had an awesome weekend, and yesterday while Daddy was at work Rowan and I did lots of fun things around the house. We've stayed so busy, I haven't even booted my computer since last week!

I hope to post some new pictures of the day today, but my work to-do list is long so I just don't know if I'll get to it.

We aren't traveling for Thanksgiving since we just made the trip to Georgia for Aunt Julie and Uncle Bobby's vow ceremony. Mommy, Daddy, Rowan, and Uncle Tim will have a quiet celebration here at our house with turkey, Grammies' stuffing, and a few trimmings. Well, that's it for now; I have to get to work! Hopefully I'll put some new stuff up very soon. Love to you all, and Happy Thanksgiving!

Our day-before-Thanksgiving turkey meal went off without a hitch...until the hitch! In the late afternoon Rowan starting acting grumbly, and he had a 101.5 fever. I called his doctor and we rushed there to make it for the very last appointment of the day. This ongoing battle with fevers had her concerned, so first they pricked his finger, and upon finding a high white blood cell count, they had to catheterize him to check for a bladder infection. After that was negative, and having no other identifiable source for the fever, they had to draw blood from his arm to do a blood culture. :( I'll spare the details and say that the doctor's visit ended with a simple prescription for antibiotics, but not before bringing tears to Mommy and baby along the way.

The great news is that once we got home, dinner was served, Rowan's fever was down with Tylenol, and we all had a lovely evening! Rowan enjoyed eating his first Thanksgiving dinner (last year he wasn't on solid food yet).

Here's another Thanksgiving treat for you: Rowan's first handprint turkey!

Oh, and I think I've mentioned before that we are so thankful for the quality of medical professionals we've encountered during the times Rowan has been sick. Last time we were at Rowan's regular doctor and had to go to the hospital for a chest x-ray, the pediatrician called us after 9pm to check on Rowan and tell us the results of the x-ray. Today while we were sitting down to have a little lunch, the phone rang and it was the pediatrician again! She said she was on her way to her Thanksgiving celebration and had Rowan on her mind and she just wanted to call and make sure he was doing well. And, remember back a few weeks ago when we had to go to the urgent care on a Sunday and that pediatrician called us late in the evening from her cell phone because she wanted to check on Rowan? It's overwhelming. I suppose it's possible that pediatricians everywhere are so caring that they call from their personal cell phones to check on a patient, but I doubt that. I think it's a combination of the awesome doctors we get, plus the fact that our little boy charms everyone he comes into contact with!