First word?

My little scholar

Mike thinks that John has said his first actual word. He's got his nose out of joint about it, because it happens to be Mama. Or, more often something like MAMAMAMAMAMAMA!

I don't think he knows that I am Mama. Based on how and why he uses it, loosely translated Mama means "Hey you! Pick me up!" We've been listening carefully for a couple weeks now, but he only uses it when he's upset and needs some issue dealt with. Like, he's tired of being on the floor. Or he wants to cuddle. Or he's hungry. Or he's woken up and wants us to come get him. He doesn't ever say it when he's content, so we're thinking it might actually be something, even if it is just "hey you! Fix this!"

He was so cute yesterday. I was building towers with his blocks. Usually, he just knocks them over and laughs. But yesterday, he actually tried to help me build. He picked up a block and was trying so gingerly to place it on top. However, he was holding it at a strange angle, so he couldn't put it down. He tried several times, but eventually gave up and stuck it in his mouth instead. It was pretty amazing to watch!

That dreaded time has come. Time to choose a caregiver for John. Oh, how I've been dreading this! But, time is running out, and those waiting lists won't get any shorter until we plunk our names down on one. We have a couple of tours lined up for tomorrow. I well up every time I think about it. I hope I don't lose it while I'm there.

I'm think I'm going to be one of those moms from hell, who stop in unannounced all the time and yell at the ECE people and demand a nutritional analysis for every snack. On the other hand, I'm mortified that he's not going to be ready for daycare. I only have three months to get nursing down to mornings and evenings, and get him eating table food. That seems so distant from where we are now. He's eaten a few little chunks of veggies, but he's still spoon-fed. He nurses about 8 times a day. Since the last round of teething he's gotten into the habit of being cuddled to sleep, and it's a habit I can't break. If I lay him down to sleep like we used to, he screams and reaches to be picked up. I have visions of him wailing through every naptime at daycare, because they won't be willing to rock him to sleep. It's going to be terrible for everyone. Actually, he'll probably love it, they'll think he's great, and I'll be the only wreck, blubbering in my cubicle, while he's howling with laughter on the other side of town. I don't know which thought leaves me more upset. Ugh.