A Very Special 1st Birthday Post

1 year ago today, I pushed a 7-pounder out of my 'gina.  Holy sh*t!  The year flew by!  Looking at him now, I can't even believe my 26+ pound walking/talking/eating/joking/laughing toddler was ever a tiny baby.  One of our closest friends told us that every stage of a child's life is better than the last.  That is definitely true.  Just when I think the current age is perfect, he learns and grows and transitions and I am once again amazed and in awe and so madly in love.

So, in honor of my 100th blog post (yeah!!) and Ari's 1st birthday, I made a list of 100 things I love about my little boy.  This is my way of marking this incredible occasion and ensuring I never forget all the little things that I adore. 

In no particular order, Ari:

1. Is constantly sticking out his tongue.
2. Claps whenever I walk into the room.
3. Plays peek-a-boo but he covers his ears and/or smooshes his face rather than hiding his eyes.
4. Will do anything to make strangers smile at him.
5. Loves to read books (over and over).
6. Laughs when he farts.
7. Bangs on the front door until I take him outside.
8. Tries to catch the sun rays in his hand.
9. Sticks his finger in my belly button.
10. Shares his food, will even chew food, remove it from his mouth, and give it to me.  Sweet.
11. Sleeps from 7:30pm-7:30am every day.
12. Loves his crib.
13. Devours smoked salmon, roasted salmon, broccoli, and peas.
14. Sings along with music.  Loves Katy Perry.  And Rihanna.  (He must like beautiful women with bad taste in men.)
17. Thinks sunglasses belong on your head and tries to put mine on his head.
18. Has rosy cheeks in the morning and after every nap.
19. Believes anything with buttons is a phone.
20. Likes having his ears cleaned out with a q-tip.
21. Stares at me when he poops.
22. Shakes his head "no" when he doesn't want to do something.
23. Eats the rind off apples.
24. Loves to eat pickles.  (One time, he ate 4 half sours for lunch.)
25. Loves exploring new places.
26. Is really good at drinking from a straw, but blows out of the straw, so food is always floating in his cup.
27. Cries every time someone turns on a vacuum.  (Therefore, I just don't vacuum.)
28. Eats the bubbles out of the bubble bath.
29. Sucks on his big toe.
30. Sleeps in a sack.
31. Sleeps with a sound machine.
32. Ok, and he sleeps with a humidifier, 5 binkies, and 4 lovies.  (Whatever.  At least he's no longer swaddled.)
33. Holds on tight when he's scared.
34. Greets other kids by putting his forehead to their forehead. 
35. Mooooo's when you say "cow".
36. Has smelly testicles at the end of the day (don't ask)
37. Mimics me.
38. Has dimples on his thighs.  And a$$.
36. And elbows.
37. Has an arsenal of tricks.  He waves, washes hands, touches head and nose, claps, sticks out his tongue, shows his teeth, puts him arms up and down.   (All on command.)
38. He does the baby sign for "more" but he doesn't do it when he wants "more" of something.
39. Kicks off his shoes.  (I'm constantly searching Brookline for a missing shoe)
40. Says ball, mama, dada, up.
41. Always claps at the end of the itsy bitsy spider.
42. Flirts with strangers.
43. Aggressively sniffs the flowers in Pat the Bunny. 
44. Sticks out his tongue and makes a noise that sounds like "bagel bagel bagel".
45. Laughs when I laugh.
46. Smiles for the camera.
47. Loves to brush his teeth.
48. Loves to brush my teeth
49. Has long, dirty toenails.
50. Drinks sparkling water.  Then burps. 
51. Uses his hand to wipe snot from his nose and smears it all over his face.
52. Has a really long rat-tail. (I can't cut his hair.  It's beautiful.)
53. Will bang on anything to make loud noises.
54. Has the hiccups very often.
55. Could watch trucks drive by for hours.
56. Gives himself kisses in the mirror.
57. Loves Pirates Booty.
58. Has a 10 pound diaper every morning.
59. Likes putting his fingers and toes in my mouth.
60. Loves to climb up stairs.
61. Pulls his hair and rubs his eyes when he's tired.
62. Is unusually strong.
62. Has lint in his armpits.
63. Generates a ton of earwax.  I could open a candle factory.
64. Gives open-mouth kisses.
65. Will not cuddle in bed.
66. Rolls over during diaper changes.
67. Wants to bang on my laptop.  (We bought him a baby toy laptop.  He's not interested.)
68. Is ticklish.
69. Loves water - drinking, playing, splashing, kicking.
70. Loves dogs. 
71. Will cuddle with anything soft.
72. Loves hard boiled eggs but won't touch scrambled eggs.
73. Has barely visible eyebrows.
74. Points with his whole hand.
75. Loves being naked.
76. Eats a sandwich like a big kid.
77. Always smells like heaven (aka Mustela bath products)
78. Goes down the slide face first.
79. Likes to lay in the ball pit.
80. Likes to touch his penis.
81. Has big squishy cheeks.
82. Brings me books and backs up to sit in my lap.
83. Grunts to get my attention in the car.
84. Likes to have his back rubbed after naps.
85. Plays chase (and he laughs hysterically when I catch him).
86. Sits on his tushie and uses his legs to spin himself around in circles
87. Plays peek a boo under the coffee table.
88. Memorizes books and turns the pages until he gets to his favorite page.
89. Gives high fives.
90. Loves the Iphone.
91. Likes to suck on whole lemons.
92. Talks all day long and makes absolutely no sense.
93. Is always happy. 
94. Blows kisses.
95. Is scared of really old men.
96. Hates dressing rooms.
97. Does not cry when kids take away his toys.
98. Won't let me clip his finger or toe nails.
99. Likes to go through other people's strollers.
100. Is really funny.  Seriously.  He has a sense of humor!  (And he knows it.)

I love him so much.  Words can't begin to express...

I could easily write 100 more. 

Happy 1st Birthday Ari. 

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Big Foot

Ari has HUGE feet! 

To put his shoe size in perspective, the average 1 1/2 - 2 year old wears a size 5 or 5.5.

Ari, one week shy of his first birthday, is wearing a size 6.5-7!  In baby terms, this is unusually large.  I took a trip to Stride Rite last week to buy him "first walking" shoes.  Early walking shoes are lightweight and bend easily to protect the feet and prevent falls.  Since Ari is now walking more than crawling, his fashionable Adidas and Puma kicks are no longer appropriate (so sad, especially for my sneaker-loving baby daddy) for day-to-day wear.  He needs a shoe that will move with him as he learns to walk. 

But, the Stride Rite sneaks only go up to a size 6!  When the shoe saleswoman measured Ari's feet, she asked me if he was 2 years old.  When I said, "ummm no, he's 11 months and 3 weeks" she recommended we "look for shoes online at Baby Big & Tall."

According to this website, I should not be surprised that Ari is a big boy with big feet.  Matt and I are very tall and both have big feet.  And my brother, Ari's Uncle Jeff, measures in at a whopping 6' 6" and wears a size 15 shoe!  (And no, he does not play basketball.  Do you play miniature golf?)

So I'm off to go search online for big baby shoes.  This may be a bit of a hassle now, but I think it will work out in Ari's favor in the long run. 

I mean, come on, you know what they say about boys with big feet, right?!

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Catch me if you can

Ari loves all books "touch and feel."  Page after page, he locates and palpates the fuzzy, the soft, the bumpy, the wrinkly, the squeaky, the whisker-y, and now-a-days his favorite, the sticky.

Here's an example.  The frog with sticky pads on its legs:

Little guy likes to place his index and middle fingers on the page and repeatedly poke the adhesive-y pads.   He has touched them so much, in fact, that they've lost most of their stickiness. 

But those pads must have been contagious...because Ari is now the one with the sticky fingers!

Yup!  Just last week, Ari broke the eighth commandment three seperate times! 

First, we were at Party Favors shopping for his b-day extravaganza.  While I picked up cups and plates, Ari was busy taking greeting cards off the shelves and placing them behind his head.  Before we checked out, I collected 2 cards and 1 envelope from his stroller.  (And then he was unsuccessful at securing the #4 candle from the stroller-level shelf.  But in the process of attempted robbery, he knocked all of the sparkler candles on the ground.  An employee walked over and gave us a dirty look.  Ari blew her a kiss.  <Sigh> He can get away with anything.)

The next day, we walked through CVS.  Thank goodness the clerk noticed the pack of gum Ari was trying hard to conceal from my view.  It wasn't even sugar-free!

And then on Friday, we took our morning walk to Trader Joes, picked up some necessities, paid, left, and walked home.  After we entered the front door, I removed Ari from his stroller, and found a carton of raspberries tucked under his tush.  I did not pick up any raspberries on that trip to TJ's, and I definitely did not pay for any either.  Sticky fingers likes fresh fruit!  (I promptly returned to the store and made Ari hand over the "hot" produce.  The manager insisted I keep them.  Red-in-the-face, I begged him to let me pay.  I told him I needed to teach my kid a lesson.)

I'm doomed.  My very-soon-to-be-1-year old is a kleptomaniac. 

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Walk 'n Roll

First, he learned to roll.  Then, he figured out how to sit up on his own.  Next came crawling.  Soon after, climbing.  Followed by standing and cruising.

And now the highly dreaded, but inevitable, walking. 

Don't get me wrong.  I want Ari to walk.  But I wasn't quite ready for him to walk just yet.  As is, he's what we call crazy   hyper   ADHD  fearless energetic. 

Here's a clip of him using his stroller as a trampoline.  And yes, he climbed up there unassisted (and unsupervised.  Oops. FYI, the stroller now lives in the bathroom.  Both the toilet and the buggy are off-limits.)

It should have come as no surprise when he took his first steps a few days ago.  Here he is learning to walk.

And now that he can get around on his own two feet, he is very interested in push toys. 

Not this kind:

Or this one:

Nope, those would be too easy.  He much prefers the kind of push toy that is around his same height and weight and also has two feet.  And it's even better when they push back.

To the little girl in today's baby gym class: I apologize on behalf of my rambunctious son.  He didn't mean to push you into the water fountain.  Really.  He was just using you for balance.  If it's any consolation, your head left a nice bruise on his cheek. 

Watch out kids. 

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Vogue

I am not one of those moms who believes my kid is the best looking baby in the world.  Do I think he's unusually cute?  Of course.  But, I'm not about to spend money on professional head shots and submit them to a modeling agency.  In fact, I've always thought those moms and dads who travel around promoting their kids and entering their offspring in contests are pathetic, embarrassing, and exploitative. 

So, when I saw this posting from my fave kid's store Magic Beans on my Facebook newsfeed...

"Casting Call: We need some cuties! We're doing a photoshoot for the holiday issue of our magalog, Surprises on Monday, October 10th and we need models. If you'd like your kid to participate, please send an email to facebook@mbeans.com with your child's age, clothing size, and a snapshot!"

...I, without a question in my mind, thought...

Hell no.  I have a firm position on these sorts of things.  And that's NO.

PICK ME!  My kid can model.  He's so cute.  He does tricks on demands.  He loves the camera.  Please, pretty please, with a cherry on top!

(The heck with values.  He could be famous.) 

So, I quickly sent an email with the requested stats, crossed my fingers, and immediately started working with Ari on his modeling pose and hair-do.

Impressive, eh?

So we waited.  And we practiced.  And we starved ourselves.  And we watched Zoolander.

And then, this popped up in my inbox:

"Dear JulieSue,

Thank you so much for submitting your child's photo for our casting call. We would be delighted if you and Ari can join us on Monday, October 10. We actually have sort of a special request. We're wondering if you'd be interested in modeling as well. We need a shot with a mom pushing a stroller and thought you and Ari would be perfect for it. Let me know ASAP if you're willing :) We'd just need you to wear skinny jeans, a cute top and maybe some simple ballet flats (or something along those lines) and Ari to wear something green."

I had to re-read it 3 times.  They wanted Ari.  Obvi.  And, did I read this right...were they asking ME to model as well?!  OMG.  Could this get any better?  Yes, it could have been anything but skinny jeans.  I think not.

So Ari and I spent hours trying on different outfits, settled on a pair of straight-leg jeans, a grey cardigan, and blue flats.  I did my hair.  Okay, you're right.  I got a blow out.  And then I did my own make-up.  Really.  And I looked pretty good.  (Ari who?)

At the last minute, I switched into a different top because it was an unusually hot and humid day, woke my little hombre from his afternoon nap, packed the diaper bag, and off we went to catalog stardom.  Now, if you recall the last time I was this excited about something, it was for my cameo in an Adam Sandler movie.  (What does this say about me?  Nothing good.)  As it turns out, the two experiences were eerily similar.  It was hot, there was a lot of waiting around, and by the time we were called in to shoot, I was oily and frizzy and I had to pee.  Ari still looked good.  He sat in a stroller and smiled.  (And he was a natural.)  I pretended to push the stroller.  (And I was an awkward mess.)  .

Click. Click. Click.  Before I could regret my wardrobe decision, it was over.  Bye bye lights, camera, Tyra Banks, action. 

It was a fun experience, but I am pretty sure I won't be America's next top mo(m)del. 

Ari, on the other hand...

...will learn there's more to life than being really, really ridiculously good looking.

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Big baby

It's 8:33pm on Tuesday night.  Ari is fast asleep, dinner has been cleaned up, and I've changed into my comfy clothes.

I sit down, turn on the computer, and try to think of a blogging topic.  Blank screen.  Blank thoughts.

I look to my right to ask Matt, who is watching the Republican debate, for a suggestion. But before I can ask for help, I receive a gift from the blogging heavens.  I see this...

And then a few minutes later this...

Followed by this...

Um yeah.  No words needed.

Except this...I think I'm the one who needs the bear hug.

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Potty Training part 2

I potty poopie trained my 11 month old. 

I've been avoiding writing this post because: a. I actually try not to write too much about poop; and b. I will have to write about my own poop in order to accurately describe the situation; and c. I know the vast majority of you are women but some of you male readers may still believe that chicks don't poop.  (You single guys should stop reading now.)

So here are the deets:

We 3 Goldwasser's have a morning routine. (You can guess as to who does what.)

7:20-8:00am Wake up.  Change diaper.  Get dressed.  Empty dishwasher.  Make breakfast.  Make coffee.  Dad leaves for work.  Eat breakfast.  Drink coffee.  Drink bottle. 

8:00-8:10am Play.

8:10am Walk/crawl to the bathroom and announce "I'm going to make a poopie."

8:11am Poop. And poop. 

That's right.

Both of us.  At the same time.  Every single day.  Together.  In the bathroom.  One of us sitting down.  One of us standing up holding onto his Mommy.  No exaggeration.  And no joke.  And then Ari flushes the toilet.  We wash our hands.  (Then go upstairs for clean up time #2.  Ha, #2.) 

This cannot be a coincidence.  The kid knows to poop in the bathroom and at the toilet.  And he goes after his morning coffee bottle.  Truly remarkable. 

Don't believe me?  Come over one morning!  I promise I'm no longer not full of sh*t. 

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