The Beach

Every year for the past 10 years my family has spent the week after Christmas on Long Beach island. Despite the impact of hurricane Sandy this year was no exception. It was, however, different.

I was apprehensive to see the island. I have had survivors guilt about how unscathed we were by the storm when so many around us lost so much. I even forgot the tradition of mocking the phrase my mother said whenever we came over the bridge "I remember when Ron Jon's was just a shack."

Debris was piled in front of homes and businesses and due to the heavy rain the night prior to our arrival the streets were flooded.  The Wawa was closed. Both were closed. The Acme was empty. Shops and restaurants were not just closed for the season. The damage was no longer as evident as it once was, but you could feel it. It was different.

We arrived at the new rental which was the best one yet! My parents were waiting for us. It was grand and the water view was exquisite. It is my favorite part of our annual tradition. Looking at the water while we spend time together as a family. You could see as far as Atlantic City from the roof deck.

We began the unloading of baby gear. The playpen/gate, the pack and play, the large bag of toys, the portable high chair, the diapers, the wipes, the monitor, the sound machine and even the jumperoo. Somehow it all fit just like it did in the car. We were settled in.

The fun began with the arrival of my brother and his family. Polish food was the fare for dinner. The baby likes perogies. After dinner Brenton came into my mother's room with me while she unpacked. Just as he was standing looking at himself in the mirror it happened. He took two tiny baby steps all on his own.

It was magical. It was just what I wanted. "Wouldn't it be wonderful if he took his first steps at the beach?", my mother asked me at Christmas Eve dinner. I told her I was hoping he would. As always he did not disappoint.

Of course he did not do it again until we came home, but we had other special moments. He recognized the ocean as fascinating and made a bee line for it crawling so quickly I had to chase him. He dug in the sand in his fancy snowsuit my mother bought. He stood all by himself. He played with his cousin Carson. He played with his cousin Jason. We laughed. We ate. We took so many pictures.

As the days passed it happened as it always does. We relaxed. It was the perfect break from it all. And then after ringing in the New Year with a dinner out wearing our New Years hats and all the fanfare, it was time to go.

We packed the baby gear and it all fit. We headed out for one last meal together before heading back home to our separate lives. As we drove off the island I turned to my husband and put my hand on his leg and said, "I remember when Ron Jon's was just a shack."

Happy Holidays!

In my family we have traditions. Lots and lots of them. When it comes time for the holidays I know just what to expect. It begins with Cousins shopping night. Then Applegate family Christmas the Saturday prior to Christmas. Followed by Christmas Eve dinner with my parents...lasagna. Christmas breakfast is next and then a rest until we head to LBI for a week with my parents and my brother and his family where we ring in the new year with crazy hats and noisemakers. Least I forget all our family photos.

Within the long list of events are little treasures. Memories. Laughing about my cousin Debby never being quite sure what her children would like as we wander around toys r us for the fifth time.  The stories my Uncle George has told a thousand times but we either pretend it is the first time or just flat out enjoy hearing them over and over. Shelling on the beach and trying to determine if that shore store with the things we want to get is actually open and what street it is actually on. Our family Christmas gift that is always red and matching. Walks on the beach. Football. The polar bear swim. The noise. The laughter.

We are so lucky to have a wonderful crazy family. This time of year is precious in its routine and as Brenton grows up he shares in the traditions. He already listens to my cousin Christopher's Christmas album as we drive in the car. Someday he will probably even sing along. He has had his second Applegate family Christmas and was the star of the show with his cousins. He ate icing while I made his gingerbread house. A new tradition. He giggled and stayed relatively still for the family photo. He stayed up way past his bed time. 

I cannot wait for our time at the beach. My mother hopes he will take his first unassisted steps and so do I. I am looking forward to the family photo in our red lumberjack shirts. To reconnected with my brother and my sister in law and my nephews. To hang out with my mom and dad. To just be quiet as a family with a beautiful view of the ocean.

All of this comes after a difficult year but one that is behind us now. It is time to celebrate and be a family and remember those who are gone and expand our family gatherings as well. I say to my sweet baby boy and to all of my friends and family...Happy Holidays!

Walking and Talking

Milestones are a funny thing.  Most are anxiously awaited and when they arrive they are met with great joy and fanfare. Right now I am waiting for two milestones. Walking and talking.

Brenton cruises like a maniac.  Give him something to hold onto and he will walk and walk and walk.  Take it away and plop right on his bottom.  It is adorable and infuriating.

He crawls quickly, so I am not entirely convinced he recognizes that crawling is an inferior form of transportation. But yet if his father or I walk away too quickly and leave him a few steps behind he whimpers and even cries on occasion. Then I allow him to pull himself up on my hands and walk while he clings to each finger.  He will walk holding just one finger on one hand as well.  I am waiting for him to forget and let go and just keep walking.

I think he is cautious when it comes to taking those first unassisted steps.  Not like his mother, who apparently took off running from those early steps at 9 months old.  Perhaps he is more like his father in his deliberate ways.

He babbles like his mother.  Making noises just to hear himself.  I enjoy talking back to him.  Sometimes in words and other time mimicking his sounds. The best part of the babbling are the shrieks of delight mixed with the occasional raspberry.

He says mama all the time, but never to me directly.  He calls many things mama.  The chair is mama, the wall is mama, when he is trying to get someones attention he says mama and occasionally he just repeats it mamamamamamamamamamamamamamamama. Again adorable and infuriating.

He will not say words when asked to say them. He does this only on his own terms much like his walking or lack thereof. I am hoping his next deliberate word is mama so inevitably it will be ball or something else. Each time he says mama to something else I say, "What do you need Brenton?"  I also point to myself and ask, "Who am I?"  I am hopeful the association will be helpful someday resulting in the response "mama". I try.

I truly believe he has said dada twice to my husband.  He touched him and said it clearly. Dada. I count it as his first word.  The first time my husband was asleep, but the second time he heard it and whirled around in bed asking "Did he just?" and I smiled and said. He did!

That moment was very special even though it was not my name he uttered. Each of his milestones have been very special in their own ways. I keep picturing his first steps in my mind and the excitement that will inevitably ensue, but no matter what I imagine it will be better. I know because so far I have not been disappointed by the amazing rush of watching my boy do things I take for granted every day. Walking and talking.

Party Time!

Even before I had a child I always thought parties for very young children were silly. I mean they don’t know, so just keep it simple. I subscribed to that idea even after my son was born. Especially since his first birthday was on Thanksgiving. Then as the day approached I started to have a change of heart.
 

What if he looks back and wonders why he didn’t have a party? Would it matter to him? Would it matter to me if we did not take time to stop and celebrate his first year of existence. And then I started to panic.

 

We have a huge family and all the kids are older. It will be November which clearly rules out any possibility of an outdoor event. So what on earth should we do? A children’s museum, a farm, a bounce around party, an indoor water park, the aquarium. No all of those ideas were limited to a certain number of guests or were entirely cost prohibitive. And then it came to me. Pizza and bowling! Children of all ages, adults included, love bowling. And so began the hunt for the venue.
 

We decided on a private room at a newly renovated establishment where I bowled as a child. How times have changed! I remember the days of smoke filled bowling alleys. No more of that. This place was amazing! Even the main area had leather couches instead of those hard plastic chairs. The days of writing your score on a piece of paper are also long since past. Now its electronic and projected on a big screen. The lights were dimmed for a true galactic bowling experience.

 

The baby, now an official toddler, could have cared less. He was more terrified at first by all the goings on. Most of the time was spent in my arms or his fathers and a bit of time with his grandmother playing patty cake. He was excited about three things, pizza and cake and a wrought iron railing he could cruise along near his friend Logan. Who can blame him? I mean I like pizza and cake too! Walking with friends is also pretty darn cool. 

I took lots of pictures. The important part was that he spent time with my friends and family and everyone had a marvelous time. It was the perfect first birthday party and in the end even the personalized goody bags were a hit. All the time I spent fretting was wasted energy and when I look back I know it was worth every penny because of the smiles on the kids faces as they walked out the door of my beautiful baby boy’s very first birthday party.

 

 

Turkey baby!

My son Brenton had his first birthday on Thanksgiving this year!  It is almost as if the last year was a collage of milestones, memories and many many pictures. I cannot imagine life without my turkey baby. He is what I am absolutely positively most thankful for this year.

He was born two days before Thanksgiving last year and his birthday will always be close to Thanksgiving, so he will always be my one and only turkey baby.  I do not refer to him as such unless it is near the day of his birth.

He doesn't remind me of a turkey because he is such a lean baby.  Perhaps if he was more of a butterball I would be inclined to give the nickname more permenancy.  Still he smiles when I tickle under his chin and I call him my turkey baby.

Two days before his birthday he began feeding himself.  Prior to that he would put the food in his hands and wave it around.  Then finally after a pancake was broken into small pieces and laid out before him on the tray of his high chair did he make the connection.

I wonder now if he realized he was scheduled to shove cake into his mouth in two days.  It was almost as if he knew it was time.  When that time came he did not disappoint.  After a round of "Happy Birthday" tunes and a candle to blow out, he had a plate of small cupcakes after his first real Thanksgiving dinner.

He started with a small taste of chocolate icing and then his eyes lit up.  It was clearly delicious.  He continued to slowly feed himself making more and more of a mess as he went then he furiously shoved his hands into the cupcakes and then into his mouth over and over. 

It was exactly what I had been waiting for. I will not forget it. The feverish moment of joy as he devoured his makshift first birthday cake. Then he began to slow down and gave me the look. My turkey baby was stuffed!!!

 

Full Grown Baby

In the past few months so much has happened. My son has become an FGB. A full grown baby! He has four teeth now. I swore he would never cut that first tooth. He chewed on his hands and drooled and drooled and drooled some more and nothing.

He pulled his ears for a solid two days at which point I made his father take him to the doctor who said no ear infection he is just teething. So I thought for sure in a few days a tooth would appear. Nope, still no tooth.

I asked friends and family who all assured me it was normal and it could take a year or maybe more. It wasn't until he was ten months old that the first small white sliver of enamel made its way through that swollen pink gum.

Then not a month later bam three more all at once. It was a reminder how quickly things change. Now Brenton smiles at me with 4 teeth. Two top two bottom right in the middle.

I love these teeth not just because they were anxiously anticipated and not just because they are my babies first teeth but also because they mean he can chew food and he can bite with them and smile and show them and someday he will brush those teeth and they will fall out and the tooth fairy will come and his permanent teeth will replace them.

My son is growing up and I am reminded to stop and look at his no longer toothless grin and enjoy the changes no matter how small and look back at how he has grown as he approaches his first birthday. Four teeth amazing! My FGB is such a little man. Now if only he would call me mama.

Bee Stings

Today was a perfect fall day.  The perfect day to head to Terhune orchards for a day of family fun.  We wandered around the farm. It turns out the baby is afraid of large furry animals.  He does not like horses or sheep.  He is uneffected by ducks and geese. I guess feathers are less scary than wool or hair.

After a picture of baby and daddy on the big farm tractor we made our way to the food tent.  We reviewed the menu of pork sandwiches and fruit salad and cider and donuts. Then it happened.  A bee.

It landed right on the baby's hand and I quickly went to shoo it away when he moved his hand into mine and he was stung.  Clear as day there was the stinger right in his fourth finger on his right hand. Without thinking I plucked it right out and waited for the crying to commence.  It didn't happen.  He was displeased, but no crying no tears.

I looked at my husband who was concerned.  He is allergic to bees.  It is not a serious allergy, but this is our baby or tiny baby and we did not know what to expect.  We hurried off to find first aid and still the baby was not upset.  Surprisingly I kept calm as well. 

A lovely older gentleman said they had analgesic to take away the sting, but because the baby was not upset or crying he advocated just putting some ice on it instead.  He got us a bag and we put it on his little hand.  It was slightly swollen and he liked the ice.  I am unsure of it was the sound of the crinkling bag or the feeling on his hand but he was soothed either way.

As a mother the fears of the unknown never cease.  Since my husband is allergic to bees we have always worried if that allergy was passed to our son. Today was a reminder that no matter how much I worry I cannot stop things from happening. I can only control my reaction to these events. 

I believe my calmness helped the baby to stay calm as well. I have to say the cider and bits of donut I gave him probably helped his mood as well; however, it is a reminder.  A reminder to react with an unruffled presence of mind as well as swiftly in those moments of uncertainty.

Our day continued and we went through the corn maze.  We watched other families with older children pick their own pumpkins.  I thought about next year and how much fun it will be for Brenton to participate in picking his very own pumpkin.

I had almost forgotten about the bee sting until we came to the candy apples and they were everywhere, so my husband took the baby away and I made the purchase. One final stop at the farm store rounded out the day.  As I put Brenton into his carseat I glanced at his slightly swollen finger and thought about how lucky we were that he is such a brave boy and also that the allergy seemed to have passed him over.

We will never forget his first trip to Terhune.  The same place I spent fall days growing up.  I look forward to next year, but without a bee sting and maybe with more donuts.