the Man

I'm a sniffling mess. You guys have such fantastic descriptions and really captured him in your words.

I've been really enjoying a side to our man that we don't get to see often. He's typically so busy flirting and exploring that cuddling is a rare and precious moment. I've always encouraged this independence, not wanting to create an insecure velcro-child. Due to his recent sinus issues, he's been feeling quite cuddly, choosing to sit quietly and play little nuzzling games rather than the rip-roaring antics he's famous for. You can bet this mom is lapping it up while it lasts!

He's still very good at playing on his own for up to 40 mins at a time. We're always impressed with the conversations he kicks up with his toys and the new angles he constantly invites us to join in viewing old things... shoes are very mysterious. Remote controls are truly a man's best friend, and plastic window blinds are fabulous dancers, when provided with a little 'batting' encouragement from chubby hands.

And the "starburst" move... that's a fabulous expression of frustration and/or delight. The monster pushes out all his extremities with as much energy as his little form can muster. His chubby fists close tightly, his toes point as far as they can and his face gets beet red. Sometimes his tongue is sticking out, sometimes both his eyes and mouth are shut. More often that not, he's slyly peeking out to watch for our reactions. Typically, his high-pitched Veloci-raptor screech announces the end and release of this particular pose. Goody.

It's true, he can only navigate backward in the walker. I do have to say though, that he's getting quite good at discerning just how to reach what it is he's aiming for. Not as acurate yet as his rolling escapades. This kid has truly mastered the landscape of his hospital crib. Whatever catches his eye is doomed as he quickly wiggles, rolls and stretches toward his goal.

He's a formidable challenge when it comes to "taking his vitals", or doing anything with him that brings new and unsual items within range. His hands are quicker than the eye and his mouth is always ready. The orifice of drool is constantly tasting and testing.

He did just cut his first tooth this week, with a second visibly chasing after it. He's sure to be a bottom-double-toother.

As for the slight evidence of a temper that might be seen once in a blue moon when things aren't going as he planned, well who can blame him? A girl's (or boy's) gotta express herself, after all. The poor kid's mother is totally unimpressed every time, though. She invented, patented and proliferated that particular strategy. Pish. Yous small potatoes, boy.

My absolute favourite trick has to be his sweet-talk. When he first started working on it, he would whisper back at me on the change table, which was just SO precious. Now, he's refined it down to a smile, gentle face touches and the tiniest voice as he curls and bubbles his little words through his chubby cheeks, past his hard-working lips. It's pure heaven, having his soft little hands flutter over my face or hands. Once in a while, he'll bestow on someone else his nice words and it just makes me melt. He puts so much effort into it, it's like the highest praise he can muster. I hope they appreciate the compliment.

A few people had enough time in their days to forward such wonderful thoughts of him... totally made me gush:

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He's the kinda person who makes you smile no matter what. His smile lights up the room, makes you forget all your troubles, and allows you escape for just one second. It also allows you to forget he pooped on your pants :) I feel like he's an old soul in a young body. Like he's saying "Look at me. Look what I am going thru, feel no pity for me though, for I feel none for myself. Just put on a happy smile, deal with what was given to you, and enjoy every moment, and scream if you aren't".

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Kaleb. He's an handsome little cherub all chubby and smiles. Every day he continues to amaze me with even cuter noises, funnier faces, or dazzeling feats of strength. He's a wonderful singer. When the song lady comes by, he joins in with is... vivacious "soprano" tone. It makes everyone smile. He's a heart breaker, the little boy who you put as your computer desktop image and show pictures of on your cell phone. He's that kid that you can't stop loving (which will probably get "gross" or "yucky" in ten years... or less.... *sniff*). He's the schmoozer, the charmer, the ladies man and love bug. Kaleb is the happy child that never seems to cry... unless you really desearve to hear it. He takes it all in stride, one step at a time, except only in reverse as his tiny legs can't reach the ground in his walker enough to move forward. Kaleb Emms is everything loving and perfect, a beautiful combination of both of his parents.

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How do we describe this treasure? *My Darling Kaleb* has a personality all his own..quick to light up the room with his marvelous smile and instant delight at our arrival..holding his cherub arms high for his expected hello and Mamere(grandma) smooch..His sweet innocent baby smell I never tire of..his enjoyable *talking* and *singing* with glee...Kaleb is determined to *taste* everthing around him..from his delightful and grubby fingers and toes..every possible toy..visitors hands and hair..his crib bars have become his new favorite..any possible item within his extending grasp..quick to lather it up with baby drool and a quick munch with his brand-new first tooth! Yes, Kaleb knows what he wants..quick to have a *Hailie Fit* if his expected amusement stops..he loves to lock up his baby arms and legs while communicating his concern...

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'strongmankaleb' has lived up to his name. . . in a nutshell, to me Kaleb personifies strength.Kaleb shows us everyday that strength is not measured by the weight of load our shoulders can bear, or the breadth of those shoulders to carry it, but by the grace with which we walk on, with our heads up and eyes ahead.That's what kaleb is to our family. Grace and enthusiasm, and perserverance wrapped in the innocence of childhood.What a gift he is to the world!

An Up-the-backer.

Poor Auntie Hilary got pooped on. Yes, chemo does some grody things to the system and I'm sure our man Kaleb is enjoying all the funny sounds and faces people make when he pulls a gross little (or big) oopsie. It's either that, or he's far more clever than he should be.

I'm amazed at my continued reflex to all the baby advertising that surrounds us. Every single smiling, chubby child is a slap in the face with a knobby stick. I know... GET OVER IT, ALREADY. Believe me, I'm yelling at myself those very words every time. It's not so much that I fear we won't beat this. I feel in my core that we will. I suppose it's a lingering grip on my selfish greed for the "norm". No one says it. A few good friends do celebrate it. But more step on each other with their instinctual drive to have a child that one-ups everyone else's.

My logical ambition was to continue the momentum of my pregnancy. It was honestly the most wonderful event to occur to my body. I mentally documented and "freeze-framed" so much of how it felt at every stage and it all felt fantastic. I scoffed at video tapes depicting mournful women who had to suffer through C-sections. I could not imagine that they refused to appreciate the gorgeous, healthy children before them.

Then my own body's failure came to pass. I recall being ushered into the "high risk" wing, watching as those beautiful doors that lead to a fanciful wing of natural mothers disappeared around the corner. I was going the wrong way!! I was supposed to be lounging in the warm tub, surrounded by cheery decor and soothing music, with my own private room. I was supposed to labour, deliver and recover with my husband and child, all in the same room! During all those ridiculous pre-natal classes, I swallowed the one class on "oh, by the way" scenarios but I honestly never for one second believed that any of them might apply to me. After all, I was a natural at being a life-nurturing blimp.

There is no rest for the warrior birther, either. Before you even come down off the good stuff that gets you through the ordeal, they're pitching you your new squalling football. I was so intent on not fumbling the darned thing, with all these 20-something, never-done-anything-worthwhile nurses coaching you through one corner of their pert little mouths, while condemning your lack-luster efforts through the other, that I did not process anything other than "We made it!". Home we went, scrambling to try to establish a new routine and rhythm. While all this was humming along my surface, I did not even realise my inner struggle to accept such a gruesome detour. I almost understood the pathetic sobbing woman on the video with the healthy baby girl. Almost. I still wouldn't let myself examine too closely my own feelings of utter failure on the most important physical front of my life. I refused to invite the dark visitor of post-partum and I certainly have the capacity to embrace him, whole-hog. I instead focused on learning who this new spectacular little person was and oh how he has captured my attention!

With the birth dust mostly settled and my warrior's wound far-too-slowly healing, my heart and mind are obviously pulled in more important directions. It was, after all, One Day. One day that brought to us the most incredible, precious package of our lives.

We are so ecstatic, even now, to be sharing in his life. And that's what it's already become. *snap* just like that... he's too large not to have his own life, his own journeys... which I have to say, have certainly started off with a big bang.


I've received a very good suggestion, I think... Next post, all about who he is. If anyone wants to email contributions to this thought, I'd love to include them. Everyone's perspectives are so interestingly different.