Kyle & The Gang

Kyle's been a bit rebellious lately. He's been refusing to nap, and at times he has made feeding time difficult by not opening his mouth. Sometimes when he's crawling around he tries to go into rooms he knows he's not supposed to enter. At first we thought it was simple rebelliousness, a harmless little phase confined to our own home. Yet it's apparently more than that. You can imagine our shock on Sunday when we drove past this graffiti in our neighborhood:



How do you explain that? I pulled Kyle aside and demanded that he tell me what this was all about. He feigned innocence by staring at me with a confused look on his face. He then tried to chew on my nose. The most I could get out of him was a "wah wah wah," which didn't help. He was merely giving the same story he used to explain how all his toys ended up out of the crib and on the floor.

The little guy must be getting out of our apartment at night. How? I don't know. We have the baby monitor watching him, and we have a pretty good security system: locks on the building's outside door, a couple locks on the door to the apartment itself, window locks, security cameras in the hallways, and a hungry, blood-thirsty rottweiler just outside Kyle's door. I believe it would be very difficult for someone to get in here once we lock up for the night. Getting out, apparently, is rather easy. So easy a baby can do it.

Of course, there is the slim chance that this was the work of someone else. The location seems to suggest that. The target of this graffiti was a restaurant that Jennifer and I went to before the little guy was born, but we haven't been there since. Babies at Kyle's age prefer to be in familiar places, so I was certain he wouldn't deface a restaurant he didn't know. But then a couple days ago I saw this at the local Starbucks:



I think there's no doubt who's behind this one. Kyle has been to this Starbucks many times. When I asked him about this graffiti, he simply blew a raspberry. This guy's tough to crack.

So I wondered if it's normal for a nearly nine-month-old child to act so rebellious, and sure enough I found this on a baby development website:

At this point, your baby can probably stand while holding onto furniture. He or she is learning how to walk and may even try a few steps. Chances are your child is also experiencing separation anxiety, except late at night, when he or she will likely leave your apartment and join a gang. Make sure you have enough money for bail.

Well, I suppose this is just a harmless phase, after all. There are plenty of babies in our neighborhood, so I'm thinking Kyle must be meeting with these kids at night, causing mischief by spray painting on storefronts, crawling through wet sidewalk cement, and gnawing on cars. No wonder his two teeth are so sharp.

Here's hoping this phase comes to an end before there's any baby gang diaper warfare or illicit formula deals on the street corners. Most of all, I just want the little guy to stop being rebellious and take his naps. His dad needs the time to take some naps himself.

Home invasion

It's not looking good for the homeland. When Jennifer and I took control of our apartment just one year ago, we were able to lay claim to the whole territory. Today, our forces are rapidly retreating, and our empire is half the size it once was, if not less.

Last week came the final blow to any hope of holding onto our living room. Kyle's forces seized a vast sward between our television and coffee table. King Kyle celebrated his victory in his new fort, holding onto its edge as he danced, laughed, and taunted us by blowing raspberries. He then bombed us with the mother of all diapers.

Once upon a time, before last June, I had believed that there was a good chance we'd be able to keep Kyle's things in his room. Sure, we knew the little guy would have to spread out during the day, but by the evening he'd go to his crib, all his stuff would be put in his room with him, and we adults would have our apartment back, allowing us to do exciting adult things like playing with knives, taking out the trash, and falling asleep while trying to watch TV.

That plan seemed to work well early on, when we could just plop Kyle down somewhere and not worry that he would wiggle away. But soon things changed. First, a basket of toys snuck into our living room. Then, a decorative baby wagon found a "temporary" home in the dining room to hide an ugly corner of the apartment. Not only is it still there, it has brought along a friend - the high chair. And with the high chair came demands from Kyle, who insisted on having something to throw on the floor. That's how a set of stacking rings ended up on the dining room table. It's the flag of Kyle Country, staking claim on territory once belonging to Mom & Dad.

A week ago the living room was lost as we set up Kyle's playpen. Kyle had long wanted a spot in that room all to his own, and through his battle cries he made clear that he could take only so much time in exersaucer. He also did his best Houdini impression and nearly escaped from the bouncy seat. We were quickly realizing that, without a playpen, Kyle was not going to let us do anything in that room that didn't involve scrambling around to protect him from hitting his head on the coffee table, bookshelf, or scalding-hot radiator (lucky us - we have six of these in our apartment!). We were growing tired in the room meant for relaxing, so we gave up, set up the playpen, and pulled back our forces.

(Above: Kyle celebrates his victory by laughing at those he crushed)

Now the only major rooms we can lay claim to are the kitchen and our own bedroom, which are separated by the living and dining rooms. Kyle is obviously working a "divide and conquer" strategy. In recent days he's been crawling into our bedroom, and just this morning he found his way into our kitchen. He's obviously scouting them out, looking for weaknesses, and preparing his forces for the next strike. I suppose then we'll just have to move out to the hallway.

Boy meets dog

After a few steam baths and a minor exorcism, Kyle's brutal cold finally appears to have worn off. To celebrate this grand event, and the prospect of sleeping through the night this week, the family went to a party Sunday at the home of our friends Matt and Amanda. It was a lovely time. They had all the essentials: drinks, wings, and rice krispie treats shaped like robots. Kyle didn't have any of that stuff, of course, because he was our designated driver. There was something, though, that did interest him greatly: Matt and Amanda's dog, Bailey.

Bailey is a full-grown lab-beagle mix. He's an incredibly friendly dog, whom I've know since he was a little pup six years ago. These days he still often thinks he's a pup, so our main concern about visiting him was that he probably would try to jump on our little guy and lick him all over. Kyle had never met a dog before, and we weren't sure how he'd like having a face full of slobber that wasn't his own.

A short time after we arrived at Matt & Amanda's, we let our kid get close to Bailey. An excited Bailey ran up to Kyle, who was being held by Jennifer. Bailey was ready to play with him until he sniffed our little guy. For some reason - maybe it was a dirty diaper or Kyle's stinky feet - the dog suddenly became disinterested. Meanwhile, Kyle, who was hesitant at first, suddenly wanted to play. So, we put him on the floor, and he'd crawl towards Bailey or his chew toys, which Kyle mistook for the stuffed animals he owns. Fortunately we stopped him before he grabbed one and put it in his mouth.

Bailey just strutted around the circle of adults, going from one to another, completely trying to ignore the adoring child in the middle. At one point their paths intersected, and Kyle and Bailey actually knocked heads. The little guy laughed, while Bailey, obviously embarrassed by the collision, tried to act like it didn't happen, and continued on his path toward a chewed up piece of rope (which Kyle had tried to chew earlier).

To avoid further embarrassment, Bailey then roamed the apartment, keeping clear of Kyle’s path. He would lounge by the TV or try to negotiate some sort of "food drop" with party goers. Kyle, on the other hand, tried harder to get the dog’s attention. He’d make excited laughing noises every time he saw Bailey, and would try to jump out of the arms of the person who was holding him, giving Matt & Amanda’s guests an unexpected workout. Unfortunately, Kyle’s efforts were fruitless, and he ended up going home without a goodbye lick.

Kyle proved to be a dog lover that evening. I’m sure that night he dreamt of playing with Bailey in the park, perhaps throwing him a stick, grabbing his tail, or sharing a chew toy. Kyle probably didn’t matter as much to Bailey, who probably had dreams of Matt & Amanda’s guests throwing him food. I’m sure Kyle will get a second chance with Bailey, and I bet they’ll become friends someday. After all, Kyle’s not so bad once you get to know him.

Something to sneeze at

This past weekend was a holiday lover's delight - Valentine's Day and President's Day wrapped up together. We gave each other chocolates on Saturday and stimulus checks on Monday. Jennifer, Kyle and I made big plans for this weekend: we'd spend it in the Boston area, and on Sunday we'd get together with my parents, my brother and his wife for a big family dinner. This was our first trek to Massachusetts since early September, and I was very excited about going. So, naturally, this weekend marked the first time Kyle came down with an illness.

Kyle simply had a bad cold, with the usual bells and whistles: a stuffed up nose, a bad cough, fatigue, possibly a sore throat, and a loss of appetite for beer. There was no fever, no unusual rash, and no spinning of his head. Nevertheless, this being his first major cold, there was still plenty to be alarmed about, especially from Kyle's perspective. He had never gone through anything like this before, and he was eager to let us know that he didn't like it.

As new parents, we weren't exactly sure how to deal with this, outside of wiping the river of goop coming out of our child's nose, and burning everything he contaminated. We were fortunate to have my parents around at the start of this illness (we initially figured his cold wasn't bad enough to change plans), but on Monday the beast that was this illness was all ours.

Illnesses don't mix well with new parents, who are already overly paranoid about their kids. Every time he'd appeared to be coughing up a lung, or whenever his breathing sounded like coffee percolating, Jennifer and I looked at each other with the same concerned "Is that normal?" look on our faces. Since the little guy can't blow his nose or clear his throat, even the smallest of symptoms seemed so much worse, especially with our little guy crying all the time. At first we thought we'd be able to take care of this cold ourselves. We were going to wait it out and let the virus run its course, but eventually we panicked and finally called our pediatrician, who recommended that we wait it out and let the virus run its course. We'll be getting the bill for that advice later.

Waiting it out, though, hasn't been easy. We're all a little impatient. You see, not only are we learning how to help a sick child, we're also learning how to deal with Kyle's newfound ability to share. The cold has hit Jennifer hard, and I haven't been doing too well myself. Turns out this past weekend truly was a family experience, and one we can't wait to finally end.

A sucker born every minute

I think I now understand why so many people get addicted to cigarettes, snack foods, and Facebook. The problem might not stem from nicotine, salt or other habit-inducing chemicals. In fact, its roots may reach as far back as infancy, and we parents may be to blame for it. We’re the ones who introduced our children to their first addiction: the pacifier.

Kyle won't admit he has a pacifier problem; most babies don't. Yet he can’t go through a day without sucking on the thing. He needs it to relax. Each day, usually in the afternoon, Kyle must have a pacifier break. Without it, he gets restless and irritable. He wants to nap, but he can't unless he gets in a few sucks. Every day he tries to quit, but once he feels those powerful, daily stresses of being a baby (and there are a lot - from dropped toys to taxes), Kyle just caves in and demands pacifier relief. It's sad, really.

It wasn't always like this. A long time ago - say, early summer - we would let the kid cry until our eardrums would explode. We'd try to quiet him down by rocking him, swaddling him, or having him watch C-SPAN. These methods would work for a time, but eventually he'd start blowing out the windows again with his wails.

So we sought out new ways to calm our kid. Some people recommended soothing music. Others bought us toys or videos that gave off calming sounds or images. The most unique suggestion came from an older friend of ours, who told us that, when he was little, his mother would get him and his six brothers and sisters to be quiet at church by feeding them NyQuil beforehand (this is true). While we didn't question the effectiveness of this option, we did feel that maybe it was a bit illegal. And as we watched our friend leave us and walk right into a wall, we also wondered about the long-term effects of giving such a drug to a child.

We knew of the pacifier option, but we were hesitant to try it. Yet as time passed, we started to feel a greater pressure from others:

"Pssst. Have you tried one of these?"

"These will make you feel so good."
"C'mon, everybody's doing it. Don't be a wimp."

And that was just from my mother. Other relatives, parents, parenting blogs, neighbors, store clerks, and our landlady also pressured us to use a pacifier. Kyle's pediatrician wasn't too keen on the idea, but what does he know? It's not like HE has to listen to a crying kid all day!

So we tried it once, and there was instant silence. Suddenly I could hear things I wasn't hearing before: birds chirping, leaves rustling, the fire alarm. Kyle sat there with a smile on his face - or, at least it looked like a smile, since the pacifier covered his entire mouth. We had a pleasant afternoon, and then we used the pacifier again the next day for kicks. Within no time, Kyle was hooked, and now he often can't take a daytime nap without it.

Now our kid has the same addiction almost every other child has, and, from the looks of it, he could have this addiction for years to come. Then what's next? I'm not saying drugs. After all, I was given a pacifier when I was a kid and remain clean (unless you count the time I was in Texas from 2001-2003). However, I often have trouble stopping when I'm stuck next to the bowl of chips at some party. Candy's also a weakness of mine (I'm eating some Mike & Ike's as I write this), and I highly doubt that would be the case if I wasn't trained to rely on something at such a young age.

I suppose we could have tried to prevent Kyle's addiction by not giving him the pacifier, but eventually we'll be going to the playground or daycare, and then the baby gangs no doubt would have tried to give him one. There's no guarantee that he'd even know how to say "no" by then. So it's probably still best that we were the ones who introduced Kyle to the pacifier, and his first addiction.

And it's hard to argue... it certainly makes him look cool.