Dancing Machine

As a child, I never passed up the opportunity to perform in front of other people. At family gatherings I would don my tutu and tap shoes, and dance my way across the fireplace hearth. So it's not much of a stretch to imagine that my little boy will be anything but a wallflower. Daniel has loved music since he was a newborn, and he especially enjoys music class with its movement, incorporation of props, and instrumentation. Until recently, however, he has been content to clap along with the music or rock back and forth a little bit (see post about musical Hallmark cards). It seems that he finally getting the idea of dancing.

For the past two nights, Peter has played The Police's greatest hits in our downstairs CD player. Peter keeps the rhythm on Daniel's plastic toy drum, of course. Daniel stands in awe of the music for just a moment. Then his upper torso begins to sway, along with his arms. Pretty soon, his knees are bent and he's bopping up and down with the beat. His little tush sticks out and his face remains serious. But he's definitely responding to the music!

I can't wait until he reaches the age of maximum dancing pleasure. It's the age my brothers were when they would each grab a sparkly glove and imitate my dance moves to Michael Jackson's "Thriller." Watching home movies of this spectacle is known to bring about both hysterics and the wetting of one's pants. I hope that Daniel never stops dancing, and that he'll permit me to dance alongside him for as long as my body will allow.

Ignorance is...Just Ignorance

A pregnant friend of mine recently asked my opinion on childhood vaccinations. She had been speaking to her neighbor, who informed my friend of her hesitancy in following her pediatrician's "aggressive" vaccination schedule. She even told my friend about a woman she knew who was "anti-vaccine" because of the "dangerous link to autism." True story. I'm not making this up.

Sadly, it is ignorant people like this who are contributing to a growing health crisis in this country. I must admit, I have a very strong opinion on this subject. I don't mean to lecture or criticize, but I wholeheartedly resent those people who feel they know more than the doctors. We hear almost daily that there is NO PROVEN LINK between childhood vaccines and autism. In fact, more and more studies are released each year which further disprove this "theory." Yet, ignorance exists. I believe in personal freedom, but not at the cost of my child's safety and well-being. I recently heard about an outbreak of measles somewhere in the Midwest. Measles!!! The CDC hypothesized that the disease originated with a child whose parents refused the MMR vaccine because of its rumored link to autism. Because of the selfishness of those parents, other children were put at serious risk.

Daniel gets vaccinated according to the pediatrician's schedule. Whatever they recommend at a particular visit, I accept. I certainly don't presume to know more about it than the pediatricians do, and I truly believe that they have Daniel's best interest at heart. Vaccines SAVE LIVES. Period. I am not at all worried about autism. I'm a hell of a lot more concerned about measles, mumps, rubella, polio, hepatitis, etc.

Some people favor a "staggered" vaccination schedule, meaning that their children receive only one vaccine at a time in hopes of lessening the impact these vaccines have on the body. I think this whole staggering idea is trendy -- the word spread via the media because some know-it-all celebrity like Jenny McCarthy shot her mouth off and made a bunch of already self-doubting mothers even more anxious. I have no doubt that I am doing what is best for Daniel. You want statistics? He is a happy, expressive, inquisitive little boy. At the end of the day, that is all I need to know.

Daniel's First Wedding

There may not have been any smiles, but there certainly weren't any tears -- and for that, I am thankful. I'm talking about Daniel, of course, as he walked down the aisle at his Uncle David's wedding to Aunt Chandra. Everyone was nervous at the prospect. Some were even pessimistic that the boys would even complete the task they had been given. Daniel had taken a long nap that afternoon, however, so I was confident that he would be okay.


When it came time for Isaac and Daniel to enter the room, I was already up front by the Chuppah. I felt bad for leaving Daniel outside with Amanda and Leah, Val and Ray, and Chandra, the bride! Aside from keeping Isaac happy, I knew they'd be saddled with the task of keeping Daniel from running off before he even had a chance to walk through the door! I was told, much later in the evening, that Daniel had been so eager to enter the room that he wanted to go ahead of his Aunt Caitlin! I held my breath as the boys came into view. Amanda was by their sides, holding Leah in her arms. As Isaac took a reluctant step, she grabbed his hand. Daniel looked confused, as if he had been blindfolded and driven to a remote location, only to be left alone to find his way back home. Luckily, Peter's aunts came to the rescue. Aunt Carole and Aunt Amy took Daniel's hands and guided him to the beginning of the aisle. He didn't protest.


As the women steered the boys down the aisle, I began to get all choked up. It was an overwhelmingly emotional experience to see my baby boy walking down the aisle, looking so handsome. He was absolutely precious and serious as can be. Once he spotted my Dad in a chair next to the aisle, he relaxed. His Pop-pop extended his arms and Daniel reached up for him. He must have felt so relieved to see a familiar face in that sea of people! I was a proud Mommy. Daniel had successfully completed his wedding duties!

Child Development, Take Two

As an education graduate student, I was required to take a class on child development. Upon entering a real-life classroom environment, I quickly forgot everything I had learned. As a mother, however, I am living and breathing a daily, hands-on class in child development. The stages of development that I once had to memorize are now taking place before my eyes. It is really an amazing experience, especially when it comes to comprehension.

Daniel is 16 months old, and his vocabulary is pretty much where it should be. He speaks often, but what comes out is mostly babble. I could probably list about a half-dozen words that he knows, including Dad, doggie, sit, and his current favorite, "this." Beyond his spoken vocabulary, however, lies a vast universe of comprehension. I am constantly amazed by how much of what I say Daniel actually understands. For example, when I ask him to get undressed, he tugs at his shirt and pants. This might not be rocket science, but I think it's amazing. If I say, "Put the basketball in the hoop," Daniel will drop what he is doing, walk across the playroom, and do just that. He even claps for himself after he completes the task!

I will continue to challenge Daniel by giving him increasingly more complex directions to follow, and by conversing with him as I have done since he was born. I'm confident that his vocabulary will grow and improve with time, and I know that pretty soon he'll be the one telling me what to do!

Back to School

Today was my first trip to Maple Glen Elementary School as a "visitor." I was no longer that third grade teacher out for the year on child-rearing leave. With Daniel in tow, I entered the building with mixed feelings of excitement and nervousness. I was eager to see my former colleagues and catch up on everyone's lives, but I was unsure about the reception I would get. Have I overstayed my welcome? Am I no longer relevant to those individuals I once commiserated with on a daily basis? Or would this reunion be warm and nostalgic, leaving me feeling sad to leave but satified with my decision to resign my position and stay home with Daniel?

For the most part, people were pleasantly surprised to see me. They asked about life on the outside and commented on how big Daniel had grown. Daniel behaved beautifully, batting his eyelashes at the ladies and goofing around with the men. We ran into a couple of my former students, though most of them have now moved on to the middle school. The students who were in my class the year I was pregnant with Daniel are now in 5th grade! They are so big! It really hit me how much time has passed since I was actually teaching. A year and a half seems like a lifetime ago.

Many things have remained constant. I will always get a warm reception from some people and a chilly one from others. The friends I had when I taught at Maple Glen are still my friends. Though we may go months without contact, we can pick up where we left off as if only days have passed. My third-grade colleagues will always be like family to me. We've seen each other through annoying staff meetings, PSSA stress, high maintenance parents, difficult students, and even relationship troubles and medical crises. That school will always hold a special place in my heart, but it's the people I miss most on a random Monday when Daniel is asleep, the house is quiet, and I yearn for some adult interaction.

When Good Intentions Go Bad

Today started out as a lovely day -- crystal clear skies, brisk autumn air, breathtaking fall foliage. After attending a MOMS Club meeting/Halloween celebration this morning, I decided to venture over to the King Of Prussia mall because I needed some things at Nordstrom. While I was there, I figured I'd stay for lunch with Daniel, thereby making it easier to put him down for his nap upon returning home. Boy, was that the wrong call!

Daniel has a had a slight cold all week, but it hasn't affected his eating or sleeping, so I thought he was well enough to be out and about. It's always a judgement call: Is a runny nose reason enough to sequester oneself inside the house? Today it wasn't. I could tell that Daniel was tired as we ran our errands, but I thought some food would perk him up. We got situated at the Nordstrom Cafe, and I fed Daniel some applesauce while we waited for our food to arrive. He seemed fine, scribbling on his placemat with a crayon and periodically feeding himself Goldfish from his Snack Trap. Perhaps I had made the mistake of ordering him a meal from the kids' menu. But you have to start sometime, right?

When his juice arrived in a sealed plastic cup with a big, plastic bendy straw, everything began to fall to pieces. Daniel was mesmerized by the cup, but didn't really understand how to hold it since it had no handles. When I tried to help, he freaked out. I allowed him to pull out the straw and play with it, but he only wanted to put it back in the cup and hold the cup himself. I was having visions of the entire cup of juice spilling in his lap, soaking his clothing, and forcing me to pony up $60 for a pair of pants from the Nordstrom kids' department. Not going to happen. So I took the cup away, causing him to burst into tears. The crying only made his already drippy nose worse. I couldn't pull out the tissues fast enough to keep up with his snot.

When he finally calmed down, I tried to encourage him to eat some food. He wanted no part of the fruit and cheese platter I had ordered him. I cut up some strawberries and placed them on the table. He turned up his nose. I managed to get him to eat some cheese, but half of it ended up in his lap or on the floor. He began to get frustrated, his irritation exacerbated by his clogged nose. He began loudly banging his sippy cup against the table. I took it away and, again, he cried. By that point, he was an unstoppable train wreck. He pulled the paper placemat off the table, sending pieces of strawberry and cheese flying into the air. I took a deep yoga breath.

After this little display of anger, he seemed to calm down. I put a cracker in front of him, and he actually took a bite! Then he began to cough. And choke. And gag. Can you guess what came next? Yup -- vomit, everywhere. Luckily, his bib and my napkins caught most of it. We were both finished with our lunch. I quickly cleaned him up, catching a sympathetic glance from the old lady at the next table. Once Daniel was back in his stroller, he was fine. He fell asleep in the car and transferred nicely into his crib once we got home. Phew!

As of 3:00, Daniel is napping peacefully and I'm relaxing in front of the computer. Of course, I could use a drink right about now.

Go Phillies!!!

Daniel congratulates the Philadelphia Phillies for making it to the World Series for the first time since 1993!!!


Back in 1993, Daniel's Mom-Mom stood in line at Veterans Stadium for 6 hours to get World Series tickets. She was able to get only two tickets.

Daniel's Mommy went to Game 4 and stayed for all 14 innings in the misty October rain, watching Mitch "Wild Thing" Williams blow a save. The Phillies lost to the Toronto Blue Jays that night, as well as in the Series.


Hopefully, Daniel will someday attend a World Series game himself.

Baby's Best Friend

Since the day we brought Daniel home from the hospital, I have desperately wanted him and Ollie to get along. Ollie was our first baby. We brought him into our lives shortly after our wedding, and spoiled him rotten from day one. He has been a loving companion to both me and Peter, but we have always secretly hoped that he would ultimately be our children's dog. Ollie has proven himself worthy of such a task, treating Daniel with a combination of curiosity and protectiveness and earning Daniel's adoration in return.


When Daniel was just an infant, spending most of his day snoozing in his vibrating seat, Ollie would hover around him like a lioness and her cub. He would find a cozy spot nearby and plop himself down to nap with his new "brother." Back then, Daniel and Ollie were about the same size. Not really knowing what to make of one another, they were civil nonetheless.

Now that Daniel has surpassed Ollie in both height and weight, the relationship has shifted. Daniel has begun to assert his control over Ollie, chasing him around and giggling with delight. We've tried to teach Daniel how to "make nice" and pet Ollie gently, rather than smack him in the head (which he did in the beginning and which Ollie took like a man). Ollie still follows Daniel around, and even participates alongside him in some of Daniel's activities.


Though Ollie still sleeps in bed with me and Peter, I envision a day when that, too, will change. As Ollie gets older, he will undoubtedly seek the companionship of this little boy whose boundless energy makes him feel like a puppy again. Daniel will come home from school and envelop Ollie in a massive bear hug. When he is sad, Ollie will comfort him (like he has for me so many times). He will find a best friend in this sweet, furry dog. Ollie will have a best friend for life.

My Musical "Prodigy"

Daniel loves music. He enjoys all genres, from U2 to Baby Mozart. Since he was about 5 months old, I've taken him to a weekly Forever Making Music class where he shares his love of music with other children. When Daniel first started these classes, he couldn't sit up on his own. I would lay him down on a blanket so he could watch me sing and dance. I would press the instruments against his hands so he could feel the vibration. Pretty soon, he was able to manipulate the instruments and other props (scarves, balls, etc.) on his own. Now he's a one-man-band, as he rocks out to the beat.


It doesn't take much to get Daniel grooving. A simple melody can grab his attention and suddenly he's swaying back and forth with the music. Recently, he's begun to do the "toddler bop," which involves bending his knees and bouncing up and down as if his feet were glued to the floor. It's really quite adorable. Sometimes even the sound effects of a particular toy are interpreted as music, and he begins to rock.

One thing I wish I had done as a child is learn to play an instrument. My rock star fantasies wouldn't seem so ridiculous if I only knew how to play guitar. I hope Daniel shows interest in learning an instrument. I'll gladly nurture those aspirations, paying for lessons and attending cacophonous elementary school recitals. Judging by his reaction to the Budilov's piano last week, I'd better start saving up now.

To TV or Not to TV?

I'm a bit of a TV junkie, I'll admit. I can be found, on occasion, circling programs in the "TV Guide" so I don't forget to record them on my Tivo. Interestingly, I discovered the wonder of TV later in life. When I was a young child, my parents put limits on the amount of TV I was permitted to watch. Having a TV set in my bedroom was out of the question, whereas today it seems to be more the norm. I once taught a student whose excuse for not doing her homework went something like this: "I had no time because I was watching American Idol!" True story.

I've read all of the recommendations when it comes to kids watching TV. The American Academy of Pediatrics suggests that children refrain from ALL television viewing before 2 years of age. Apparently, the members of the Academy never tried to make the bed or cook dinner with a fussy toddler nearby. (I'm joking -- kind of.) I did a stellar job of keeping Daniel away from the TV for the first year or so. I even took him to a live Backyardigans concert when he was 11 months old, never having viewed a single episode of the show (which I now think is pretty groovy). But as he got older and more mobile, it became more difficult to hold his attention for longer than a couple of minutes. Elmo and Diego saved me a lot of trouble.

I was part of a generation that was raised on Sesame Street. I remember learning to count in Spanish and mourning the death of Mr. Hooper. Should Daniel miss out on that magic just because some experts say it's not an ideal use of his time? I don't believe so. I've begun to allow short bursts of TV viewing each morning. Sometimes Daniel watches Mickey Mouse Clubhouse (brilliant use of They Might Be Giants music for us thirty-something parents!) and sometimes it's Go, Diego, Go. Both shows are age appropriate and what I believe to be "educational." After about 20 minutes, we turn off the TV and continue with our day. In that short amount of time, however, Daniel is completely engrossed with the action on the screen. He even "talks" to the characters. I try to interact with the program in order to model the learning experience for Daniel, but I think he'd take something valuable from each program even without my participation.

Am I afraid that I'm raising a TV addict? No. Do I think that I'm impeding Daniel's growing vocabulary? No. While I'm conscious of the amount of time Daniel spends in front of the TV, I'm confident that he's being exposed to diverse characters, exciting music, valuable lessons, and some good, old-fashioned fun. What's the harm in that?

Religion for Toddlers

From the day of his Bris, when the Moyel snipped and Daniel sucked on a wine-dipped cotton swab, my little boy was unequivocally Jewish. He had endured the earliest "rite of passage" for Jewish boys, and was awarded a personalized yarmulke as a souvenir of his courage. Tonight, Daniel will wear that very yarmulke for the first time since that fateful day. We are going to a "Tot Shabbat" at KI synagogue, guests of our friends Matt, Rachel, and Harrison Steinberg. We have selected a special event through which we will introduce Daniel to the rituals of the Sabbath. The KI Puppets will make an appearance, and a good time is sure to be had by all. Though I keep imagining the puppets singing "Everyone's a Little Bit Racist" while dressed in rabbinical garb, I imagine this performance will be less "Avenue Q" and more "Fiddler on the Roof."

I wonder what will go through Daniel's mind as he witnesses for the first time the majesty of the ark and the beauty of the Torah. It's usually shiny, so this should capture his attention quite successfully. I think it's important for him to see us there as a family. Judaism to me was always about family and tradition. By bringing Daniel to the synagogue for a family event, I am symbolically passing on this experience to my child. He will take from it what he will (most likely something distinguishing about a particular puppet). Most significantly, however, it will mark the first of many synagogue outings for our family. I can only hope that Daniel will feel the warmth and sense of belonging that I always have.

My Own Kind of Repentence

In honor of Yom Kippur, I've prepared a list of mommy-related things for which I should atone. Obviously, this is an abridged version of the list -- there are some indiscretions that are just too shameful to share with anyone but my G-d. If my attitude towards these infractions seems at all cavalier, it's solely for the purpose of amusing the reader. I don't mean to make light of anyone's sins, least of all my own. But I digress...

First of all, I'm atoning for missing Yom Kippur services today. When you have a 16-month-old, the last place you can expect him to sit still and be quiet is a synagogue sanctuary on Yom Kippur. We went to music class instead.

I'm atoning for the times I've lost my patience with Daniel, especially in situations that were obviously beyond his control (i.e. pooping for the third time in a row when I'm trying to get us out the door to Gymboree). In those situations that were clearly manipulated by him (spitting out every spoonful of food that goes in his mouth), I probably could have handled my frustration better. Even if, at the time, I wanted to bang my head against a brick wall.

I'm atoning for refusing to play Daniel's music in the car. I love the songs on his Forever Making Music CD's, but there's only so many times you can hear "Hello, I'm Uncle Jerry..." before you seriously lose your cool. In the interest of not driving off the road, I reserve those CD's for bedtime. Daniel recognizes the songs, and they are a great companion to a bottle of warm milk. In my car, my music rules. I think Daniel will grow up knowing more Gwen Stefani and Dave Matthews than Raffi and The Wiggles. And that's the way I like it (but I'll still atone).

I'm atoning for occasionally allowing Daniel to eat crackers, cheese, and baby food for dinner. I try so hard to introduce new, "adult" foods, but some nights it's just too hard to try and force him to eat something he doesn't want. As long as he's happy and satisfied, I can rest easy. I'll continue to push the table foods, so long as I can slip back to my old habits now and again. I promise I'll atone for it next year.

Phew! I don't know about you, but I feel much better. I love my little boy with all my heart and soul. If these mommy sins are the worst of it, then I think I'm doing a pretty darn good job!

Kids are Wack-o

As a teacher, I've encountered strange children over the years. I had one third-grader who behaved like a dog, even going so far as to have the other students pet him. Another student talked endlessly about "Bionicles," a toy whose characters have names so bizarre that half the time I though he was speaking a different language. The bottom line is, kids are eccentric. The degree of eccentricity varies from child to child, but it always rears its head sooner or later.

Toddlers are among the strangest creatures on the planet. Because they are still trying to make sense of the world around them, they are constantly exploring with their senses (mostly touch and taste!). Objects are fascinating to them, and they develop fixations with certain things. When Peter was a young boy, he was obsessed with vacuum cleaners. He didn't want to clean, he wanted to fly to the moon. Peter would "plug" the vacuum into the sofa cushions and pretend that it was a rocketship. Perhaps this anecdote is a good example of why parents do not rush their toddlers straight to the funny farm. Imagination sparks these strange behaviors. The act of make-believe can make an adult seem "delusional," but it makes a child seem "creative."

For a while, Daniel was obsessed with the Dustbuster. He would push it around the floor and spazz out with excitement when someone turned it on. He was also very fond of measuring spoons at one time. I bought him as many colorful plastic sets as I could find. These days, Daniel is less fixated on objects. He likes to carry out certain actions, some of which could certainly qualify as strange and unusual. One of his favorite activities is to explore inside the refrigerator (not very energy efficient, I know). As soon as he hears the door open, he comes running from any room in the house. He likes to take the condiments off the door shelf and line them up on the kitchen floor. He's particularly drawn to the hot sauce and the jelly. Lately, he's been climbing into the fridge.


He hasn't yet figured out how to get down, so this scenario usually ends in him crying out in fear. Today, he removed a bottle of salad dressing and ran around with it for at least 15 minutes. Then he found my Ugg boots and dropped the bottle into one of them (with the lid on, thank goodness). Crazy, right? Later on, I found him sitting in a drawer of appliance manuals in the kitchen. Sure, it was low to the ground, but what could have possessed him to climb in there? I should probably write down all of the bizarre things Daniel does on a daily basis, because it's difficult to remember so many. For now, I will continue to observe these strange behaviors and laugh to myself about what a "creative" child I have.

Lactose Blues

We all inherit different traits from our families -- physical, behavioral, and medical. Daniel is just a week shy of 16 months, and he seems to be a fascinating combination of me and Peter. Sure, there are things about myself that I hope Daniel does not inherit: poor eyesight, perfectionism, and a tendency towards envy. Peter's personality is much more stable than my own. He is easy to get along with, friendly, and hugely optimistic. But he is not perfect -- the poor thing is lactose intolerant! Imagine having to go through life avoiding cheese and ice cream! Peter's downfall is that he indulges in these foods and ends up sick as a dog. I could basically live on cheese and ice cream for the rest of my life -- that's how much I love these foods. Daniel certainly takes after my love of cheese. He can't seem to get enough. Ice cream hasn't caught on yet. When I see his playgroup pals gobbling it up, though, I know he'll learn to love it in time.

Why all this talk about lactose? Well, I haven't been feeling well recently. I'll spare the reader the details, but my ailments have included nausea, cramps, and massive amounts of gas and bloating. Unsure of the cause, I've hypothesized that it may have something to do with my intake of lactose. Call me crazy, but I fear that I may be allergic to the foods I love most. Just my luck, right? I'm embarking on an experiment this week: NO lactose (or as little as I can control. I'll use soy milk with my cereal, soy cheese on my sandwiches (the stuff is barely palatable), and avoid ice cream and pizza like the plague. Best case scenario, I'll feel much better and maybe even lose some weight! Worse case scenario...well, without cheese and ice cream, I'm pretty much living it.

Only time will tell whether or not lactose is my friend. In the meantime, I will live vicariously through Daniel as he devours cheese like it's going out of style. And I'll keep my fingers crossed for him that he will never see the day when his beloved lactose will be forbidden.

A Day of Exploration

Today we set off on an adventure -- we took Daniel to the Garden State Discovery Museum. It's not possible to find this place by accident. Located in Cherry Hill, the museum occupies the former Courier Post building in the middle of a nondescript industrial park. My friend Rachel told us about it and encouraged us to check it out. It was the perfect place for Daniel to explore on his own. The museum was small, not at all crowded (certainly in comparison to the Camden Aquarium, which was our second choice destination), and very accessible to a newly-walking 15-month-old. The exhibits were laid out in open spaces, where everything could be touched, manipulated, or climbed upon. Perfect for Daniel! He was in awe of the car exhibit pretty much right away. Typical boy!


Daniel sat in the driver's seat, put his hands on the steering wheel, and let his imagination run wild! Another favorite was the animal habitat -- a hollow tree with multiple levels through which the kids could climb. Peter accompanied him inside, while I tried to predict which hole he'd emerge from.

I got to live out a fantasy of my own in the news studio. Peter manned the camera while Daniel and I did our best Jim Gardner/Lisa Thomas-Laury impressions. Actually, we were more like Anchorman Ron Burgundy and Veronica Morningstar! Watch your back, Cecily Tynan!

Perhaps the museum's highlight for adults was a large pseudo-Lite Brite wall with plastic pegs. Daniel got a kick out of moving the pegs from hole to hole, but Peter and I enjoyed the sheer nostalgia of the exhibit. I tried not to think about how many sticky little hands had touched the pegs before us.
Other exhibits included a veteranarian's office, a construction site, a malt shop, and a fairy tale castle. Daniel was definitely too young for some of the interactive aspects of the museum, but he still enjoyed roaming around and exploring with his hands and feet. I'm sure we will return in the not-too-distant future to continue the adventure!

Stefanie v2.0

It's hard not to live in the moment when you have a toddler at home. Thoughts of your younger, less responsible self are almost always overshadowed by the snot on your cashmere sweater or the poop under your fingernail (yes, I washed my hands immediately afterwards!). College seems like a distant lifetime ago, and the single city girl you once were has been replaced by impossibly younger versions (seriously, why does everyone at the bar look like 14-year-old jailbait?). As I get older and continue to reinvent myself, it becomes increasingly more difficult to look back and truly remember what it felt like to be 24 and single, when my biggest concern was what to order for lunch from the Penn "ski lodge." Now that I'm a wife and a mother, I find it nearly impossible to sympathize with my younger self. Worrying whether or not HE would call? Give me a break. The insignificance of that compared with Daniel's health and well-being is ridiculous. I don't mean to come off as elitist or condescending. It's just that I've always been someone to carry the weight of the world on my shoulders for everyone to see. Pain and suffering? I can compete with the likes of DeNiro. That hasn't changed. But there's so much more at stake now than when I was a single city girl. My happiness is bound to Peter's and, most significantly, to Daniel's. While the responsibility to my husband and son can sometimes be scary and overwhelming, I wouldn't trade it for anything in the world.

Expanding Food Horizons

Daniel has always been a good eater. From breast to bottle and beyond, he consumed plenty -- so much so that my sub-6 pound preemie blossomed into a sturdy, 22-pound one year old! While his tastes and preferences have shifted, his ability to put away a considerable amount of food in one sitting has remained consistent. Now that he is approaching 16 months old and is moving around like the Energizer Bunny on speed, I can't help but wonder if he requires even more nourishment than he currently gets.

I'm beginning to make some changes in Daniel's food repertoire. The last bottle of formula is dwindling, soon to be replaced by organic whole milk. The canister of baby oatmeal will soon be empty, and I hope to convince Daniel that eggs are not as awful-tasting as he currently believes. I'm doing a better job of not stocking up on copious amounts of pureed baby food, but rather taking the time to prepare a variety of "adult" foods for him to try. We've added veggie burgers, cream cheese and jelly on whole wheat, Pirates Booty, waffles, and pizza crust to the rotation. Part of me is excited for the shift; my little boy is growing up! But the feeling is definitely bittersweet. Baby food was easy -- portable and cheap! I always knew how much he was getting. Now I'm faced with that scary uncertainty. Did he eat enough? Did he get something from each of the food groups? Can a toddler overdose on cheese?

Today I made Daniel Ellio's pizza for lunch, and he ate about a dozen pieces. He seemed to really enjoy it (what's not to enjoy?) and the chewing wasn't even too much of a problem. I was proud of him, and of myself for venturing into unfamiliar food territory. I did spoon-feed him baby applesauce in between bites of pizza, but no one's perfect! Baby steps, as they say...