First Year October 17 - November 6, 2004 How we celebrated Tom's first birthday

	Pumpkins.

Well Tom has been in the world for a whole year now. People usually comment that time goes by really fast. I must say that the first half year dragged on unbearably; perhaps as Tom after birth kept behaving as if he still were in my belly -- sleeping most of the time, not reacting much to his surroundings (except for screaming while being washed) and I had the feeling that I would forever nurse and change diapers on a bundle who emits about as many emotions and gratitude as a stuffed animal would. The second half year was, however, about something quite different -- Tommy began to turn, crawl, eat solid food, rage, rascal -- but he can also smile, provoke to play, marvel at new things, with a serious expression discover everyday's miracles, and come to cuddle and caress when he feels lonely. Hence our last six months rushed by like a mountain stream..

	Blowing's nonsense -- I just reach for the candle...

A first birthday celebration is most likely much more important for parents and other relatives than the toddler himself. We chose not to organize any mega-party -- strangers make Tom rather sheepish, we reckoned that he would feel more comfortable among his own. Dealing with presents was also simple -- our house has been already saturated with toys, so Tom received just one gift -- a large red toy truck. It has a box of middle-sized Lego on its bed, which we thought to hold back first, until he's older, but to our surprise he quite enjoys to play with the blocks. He cannot yet put them together, but the more enthusiastically and methodically he pulls them apart and subsequently scatter all over our house, which leads to excellent cursing by parents who have stepped on those sharp edges.

I also had a clear idea about a cake -- I would buy a beautiful fruit cake -- it would be colorful, and certainly healthier than those over-sweetened chocolate mounds, and we should really enjoy it. I miscalculated gravely. The moment I know what I want, and I need it badly, it naturally and completely disappears from surface of the earth. Eventually we spent an hour with Sid driving around, and out of desperation bought a fruity cheesecake, which I don't like much. Well, Tom had a easy job mashing all that cottage cheese, so the main goal has been achieved.

	Already second time, we take a miniature train ride -- this one at the San Francisco ZOO.

I imagined how on his birthday I arrange an interesting day for my son, how I would be there for him more that I usually am, and everything will be idyllic and cute. Alas, besides driving across San Jose while shopping for a cake, a rainstorm had canceled my plans to re-visit a Pumpkin Patch. Tom has been conveniently born a week before Hallowe'en and many children's activities are available this time of the year. A pumpkin patch is a place where you can pick your Hallowe'en decoration pumpkin -- but it's not just that, they make it a whole ceremony. A small surviving farm in Mountain View (in the middle of 100% urban Silicon Valley) sells pumpkins every year on their lot, and they also show farm animals in corrals and operate a little train for the kids. All this is freely accessible, it's not even mandatory to buy a pumpkin. We had been to this wonderful attraction already with Petra during the week, but Tom was so ecstatic about the train that I wished to indulge him once more. Well since I am a bad stepmother by temper, it seemed a bad idea to slosh our mud-crawling Tom in the cold rain.

As if it were not enough, some bad flu felled me like a log. I admit that my recollection of the birthday celebration is feverishly hazy at best, and all my plans of paying undivided attention to the birthday boy fizzled into a coarse-throated "promise that you take care of him" and my crawling into a bed. Fortunately his grandmother and daddy are held in much higher esteem than his boring mother, so our poor baby did not register any discomfiture. I, on the other hand, refreshed my knowledge of how much easier one overcomes an illness when one's allowed to spend a day in one's bed, and does not have to sleep it off five minutes at a time, after scrubbing the house behind a toddling tornado, and before waking the above mentioned tornado again.

To recap the year a bit -- twelve months after being born, Tom weighs 23 pounds - he multiplied his starting weight five times. He grew by 13 inches. On the day before his birthday, he made his first two steps. His greatest interest is cars -- to let him loose in the driver seat (in a parked car) means finding it later with completely re-set wipers, lights, heating, warning signals, and turned mirrors. He's been fascinated by wheels, he manages to spend long minutes lying down with his face to the floor, looking UNDER his toy cars wondering how they work and drive. He can turn off, re-program and open our dishwasher. I don't even mention our TV, he had been pulling that off for several months now. Tom can open a door, as long as there's a handle (we switched to knobs almost everywhere). He eats practically everything that we give him and many other things we would never give him. Fortunately he's smart enough to spit out objects that can't be chewed and swallowed.

	Look, mommy, an elephant!

	Tommy knows how to stand -- unless he takes notice, that is.

Tom's outing has become much more entertaining than the previous dull rolling a stroller. He now often pushes the stroller himself (walking only with a support so far), but it also means stopping for every leaf, twig, manhole, cigarette butt, piece of paper, pebble etc. If we go around our block, our walk consists of much running away to cars parked in driveways. They all deserve to be touched and be checked for shininess of hubcaps and tire texture. An angry squeal ensues, whenever Tom is obstructed in these activities.

Tom also began to take interest in animals. He was completely excited by San Francisco ZOO. We naturally had to take a children's train ride -- Tom again put on a serious face and to every whistle whine of a miniature steam engine, he replied with his own dutiful hooooo hoooooo. On a Hallowe'en festival, organized by a local church, he made friends with little rabbits, ducks and goats -- all animals let him pet and stroke them gently. To my surprise Tom momentarily abandoned his usual brutal practices, with which he approaches his parents, and only gently touched fuzzy creatures. I was not sure that riding a pony would actually be of any interest for him, but he held on to the saddle, hissed (for some reason, hissing is Tom's expression of maximum attention) and exclaimed occasionally. A trotting pony was quite obviously enough "action" -- whenever Tom gets bored, he jumps up and calls brrm brrm (possibly meaning, turn on the engines, let something happen already).

Separation anxiety has caught up with us, though. At home, Tom roars, running around wherever he pleases (usually where he can quietly be a bad boy -- like emptying cabinets, pushing buttons on TV, shredding our books, or splash in a toilet bowl), and completely disinterested whether we're close by or not. Yet whenever someone is visiting with us, or when we found ourselves outside home environment, he turns into a tick, holding fast onto a parent. It goes so far that he holds somebody's sleeve when playing, and he absolutely refuses any activity on his own. Well, perhaps he will lose it in another year...

Copyright © 2004 by Carol & Sid Paral. All rights reserved.