Eames's Drinking Problem

Eames has a drinking problem.

And it goes a little something like this: For his 12 month check up, Eames weighed in at about 18 1/2 pounds, which puts him in the fourth percentile. His height was slightly better at the 17th percentile (and let's not talk about that Luedtke head which is solidly in the 68th--basically, he's lollipop shaped). The doctor assumed that his increased activity and my (probably) decreased milk supply is mostly to blame, so she suggested making sure he gets about 16 (I think) ounces of soy milk a day to make up for the nutrients and vitamins he's no longer getting from me. This suggestion makes sense. Most kids switch to regular milk at this time and soy milk is the highest protein/fat/calorie vegan option out there.

But, Eames doesn't like soy milk. And, it's not just soy milk. Eames won't drink anything but water (and Keflex, which he begged for when he had to take it...mmmmm, tropical-flavored anitbiotics).

Let me provide a little perspective: Eames is an eating machine. He eats all day and he'll eat just about anything you give him. He's enjoyed my tofu egg salad which features a healthy amount of raw onions, tarragon, and chives. He likes a good curry and was particularly happy to polish off the coconut black-eyed pea curry I made last week. He likes black beans and soyrizo and salsa. I could go on. Vegans, at least these ones, eat an amazing variety of food that most adults look askance at and Eames is happy to eat them all.

Exhibit A: Tempeh bacon, rice cheese, and avocado on rye (deconstructed)

The only thing he is picky about is liquid. He doesn't like juice. Apple, orange, and carrot have all gotten spit out. And I even made them fresh. Juiced just seconds prior. He made this face:

Exhibit B: Dark Cherry Passion Tea Lemonade

Vanilla soy milk ended up on the front of his shirt, as did the chocolate variety. And I think the chocolate is still there. As you can see, tea gets a negative reaction too--and it tastes exactly like Kool-Aid. Up to this point, it's been breastmilk and water all the way. And, seriously, I'm not complaining. I know many parents struggle to get kids to drink water and a lot of adults have trouble with it too (looking at you, Amy).

While we were in California, however, we had a breakthrough. We went to an organic deli run by a Christian cult. They happened to have banana milk on the menu, so I order one made with soy thinking it was worth a shot. Lo and behold, he drank it as well as he could considering that the straw was about an inch wide. Of course, he then proceeded to pull the straw out of the cup, spilling banana soy milk across the table, and waving the straw rapidly back and forth which sprayed banana soy milk all over the table and most of us sitting at it. When I tried to clean up the mess, he grabbed the paper from beneath my sandwich and waved it about, until I grabbed it and moved on to the salt and pepper, sprinkling it liberally across the table. But, that's really another blog...

Anyway, I made him some banana soy milk at home this morning. And. He. Liked. It. I blended on large banana, one cup of soy milk, and a quarter cup of coconut kefir together and served it to him in his tupperware juicebox. He drank about 12 ounces of the stuff over the course of the day. On top of that, I ordered a small unsweetened iced green tea from Starbucks and he drank the whole thing (don't even give me guff about Starbucks...I've struggled to be ok with patronizing the place, but the reality is that it reminds me of home and I like that).

Victory: Eames not only drinks it, he HUGS it.

Yes, Eames is officially on the wagon--the banana soymilk bandwagon. I doubt I'll be able to get him to drink however many ounces the doctor suggested, but knowing that he's drinking fortified soymilk makes me feel a little less guilty about the fact that I often forget to give him his vitamins.

I also suspect that this will not cause him to suddenly grow into a regular-sized toddler--you know, one who isn't still rocking 6 month old's clothes. But, that's ok, because he's out-running and -climbing toddlers twice his size.

And good things come in small packages.

California: Leaving On an Aeroplane

Waiting to Board

California

The Last Resort: Playing with the Camera

Getting Sleepy (on the descent)

Goldilocks?

When Eames was born, he had orange kinky hair; eventually, it fell out and the strawberry slowly leached out of it. Now, it's about as blonde as can be.
But, I've been watching to see if he gets stuck with my thin, lifeless, utterly, irrevocably straightest of straight hair or if he gets Josh's curls. Today, he's definitely looking curly. Of course, this particular hairstyle is largely due to the combination of sweaty nap hair and tangerine juice from the plate that he was rubbing all over his head. When we walked over to the neighbors today, Will said to Eames, "You look like your dad with your hair all crazy like that."
You know what would happen if I combined sweat, tangerine juice, and my hair? Nothing.

I see hope for him yet.

The Day After

Mother's Day

One Year

While it is Eames's birthday, this post is going to be more about me than him (which is probably something he should get used to).

Birthdays, like the new year, seem to provoke some reflection in me. I've been thinking lately about this past year. Some thoughts are well-trodden: I wonder again and again how the year went by so quickly and I get a little sad that Eames is no longer a baby but a toddler with a will of his own. In fact, the only baby-ish thing about him are those adorably chubby cheeks and even those are slowly fading away. Sure, it seems silly to mourn the infancy of a one year old, but this has been a year of surprises and revelations for me and his infancy has been the source of that.

In short, I have surprised myself. I've never exactly been the maternal type and I feel like I missed out on most of Aspen's childhood; indeed, she more closely resembles a woman than a child--and a beautiful one, at that--and I can't fathom where that time went. But, with Eames, I find myself thinking on occasion that I've actually turned out to be a decent mom. Actually, I would even say that I'm a good mom. Despite a hundred million other things I should be doing (actually, there's only one other thing I should be doing but I dare not speak its name), I have devoted myself to spending time with him and not thinking about or doing anything else. I stopped checking my email incessantly, refreshing Facebook, and reading every blog under the sun; I still keep up, but I do it, for the most part, when Eames is asleep. I stopped worrying about all the things that need to be done around the house. I stopped beating myself up for not writing. I workout or go for runs when I can, and I don't worry about it when I don't. When his first year check-up revealed that he's just a wee slip of a boy (4th percentile for weight and 17th for height), I knew that he as healthy and that I've been doing everything I possibly can to ensure that he grown healthy and happy--both of which, he undoubtedly is.

In essence, I've learned to live in the moment with Eames. I've learned to enjoy him. I've learned not to be distracted, because I'll never get these moments back. When I'm with him, I'm really with him. And, when I'm feeling a little stressed or a little distracted, Eames guides me back, with little cairns that he stacks randomly around the house. Towers of blocks, balls, plastic lids, and shoes that bring me back to these moments. To him.

Aspen helped me grow up and set goals and start to plan for the future--she led me to this place, this time--and she reminds me that it goes too fast.

Eames reminds me to be still. To revel in the small things everyday. To see the joy in the stacking of cups and the herding of cats and the spinning of a record player.



Happy Birthday, Eames!