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Happy Birthday, Trevor! Year 1 in Review
Dec. 17th, 2017 09:49 pmMy dear little love, Trevor, you have made it around the sun for the first time! The cliche about not being able to believe how fast babies grow up is a cliche because it is universally true. Seriously, you've more than doubled (tripled! nearly quadrupled!) in size since you made your first appearance. My phone background is a precious snapshot of you at about three or four weeks old, but that's hardly even you anymore! You would hulk right out of that onesie that was big and baggy on you in the photo. You hulk right out of a lot of things. You're a big, strong kid already. Good thing you've got strong parents!
Here are some of my favorite memories from my first year of knowing you:
December 18th, 2016: I got word early in the day that your mom had started labor. I was already very impatient for this announcement, as we'd been expecting you about two weeks prior. I was promised regular updates as the day progressed, but I got frustratingly little in the way of news. I checked my phone constantly for information, and finally got the word that you'd made your arrival and everyone was well. Pictures soon followed and I was filled with joy. I would have to wait a few weeks to meet you, but I hounded your mom for photos and updates every day. I wanted to know all there was to know about you.
Early January, 2017: I took the train up to Vancouver, where you and your mom picked me up at the station. You were snoozing in the back of the car and I was so anxious to get home where I could hold you and cuddle you. I remember you being pretty chill. You let me hold you without too much fuss, or if there was fuss, I've forgotten it. Your mom showed me how to change your cloth diapers, and I tried to help as much as I could, but I may have been more in the way than helping. It's the thought that counts, right? Your poops were no big deal in the days before solid food, so I could volunteer to assist without much concern. (This will become relevant later.)
We took you on walks in your icy Vancouver neighborhood. You enjoyed the stroller. At home, you would relax in the stroller in the front hall until hunger or diaper discomfort struck, at which point you'd let us know it was time to mobilize. You didn't do a whole lot yet, but you looked cute in all your outfits and I delighted in spending time with you that week.
April: You got to spend a couple months in Charlottesville with your parents and grandparents, thanks to Canada's progressive parental leave policies. I took advantage of my own flexible "work" schedule to fly out and visit while you were there. Your whole family was around, and lots of extended family met you for the first time then, too. Your Grandmom is great at innovating toys out of whatever is in the house, and she had you practicing your percussion skills on some plastic containers, which you enjoyed very much. Walking remained one of your favorite things, and I enjoyed circling the neighborhood with you in your stroller, and sometimes carrying you. I appreciated that you didn't have too much stranger danger with me, and let me snuggle you lots.
May: In May, your Granddad George passed away. We were all very sad and miss him very much. It really put in perspective just how special those previous two months in Charlottesville were. Thank goodness for that Canadian parental leave policy! We are so glad that George got to spend some of his final months with his grandbaby. He loved you so much, Trev. You are going to hear a lot about George as you grow up. He was a special guy, and I'm sure you'll be a lot like him in a lot of ways. He had a rapidly progressing Alzheimer's case, and maybe it's best that you won't remember him like that. Instead, you'll learn who he was through everyone's favorite stories of what he was like before his illness. He was super smart. He loved to work puzzles and play games. He and my mom were bridge partners. Your mom and dad don't play bridge (yet?), but I would LOVE it if you'd like to learn. I'll play with you any time.
We all flew back to Charlottesville to take care of arrangements and to celebrate George's life. It was nice to get to spend some more time with you. Because your parents and grandparents were so busy, I got the job of holding you for a lot of the memorial service. I was so proud to take you around and introduce you to your granddad's friends and family, and tell them about you :) I tend to cry a lot at events like this, and getting to hold you was a real comfort for me. I know you were a real comfort for a lot of people in that sad time. It's impossible to be all the way sad when there's such a great baby around. You met some other babies whom I'm sure you'll get to know much better over the next few years. You're one of the first kids born in several of your parents' main social groups. That's going to give you a real position of power in future years, when everybody's getting together, and you're the oldest kid. I wielded this power myself, growing up with a bunch of kids in Squirrel Ridge. You'll get to pick most of the games you play, and also win most of them. But you'll also be responsible for making sure the youngest kids don't get left out or get their feelings hurt. So don't let the power go to your head. You need to be magnanimous. You don't want to be the reason other kids run crying to their parents. (Here is where I apologize to your mom for all the times I was shitty to her when we were kids. I did not always handle oldestness gracefully. Be better than that.)
July: For your dad's birthday, your mom got tickets to a beer festival in Vancouver. That meant they'd need an all-day babysitter. Toby and I volunteered for this task. Toby was long past due for meeting you, and we were honored to have the responsibility of one of your first stretches of time without either parent. Now, here comes a story I have since told hundreds of times, and will tell thousands of times more in my lifetime. It is my favorite story. It includes one of the proudest moments of my life. Here it is:
We arrived by train late Friday night. Your mom picked us up and said "I have to warn you of something. Trevor hasn't pooped since Sunday." That's FIVE days by this point. We were going to be on our own with you for most of Saturday. Seven months old now, you'd been eating solid foods for a few weeks, and your shit had gotten more intense...until it stopped altogether. Your parents had already taken you to the doctor, and they were trying all sorts of things to get you unclogged. Every time you farted, we thought "Is this the big one?" because your farts were passing through nearly a week's worth of poo, and each one smelled like armageddon. But by the time your parents set off for the beer fest, you'd been six days shitless. I knew our chances were good. You had to be nearly bursting by this point, and I have this knack for making constipated babies unload. Also, Murphy's Law, right? Of course it was going to happen while I was in charge.
The morning went just fine. We walked around the neighborhood with you in your stroller. You took a quick nap -- for a while, you'd been kind of a bad napper. 20 minutes here, 15 minutes there...we didn't expect to be able to put you down for long. We picked up some lunch and brought it back to the apartment. We put you in your bouncy seat while we ate. You were kind of outgrowing it, and your parents warned that you'd probably only be happy in it for a few minutes before starting to scream, so we knew we'd need to eat quickly. We scarfed down our food, and I gave Toby a choice: would you like to handle the dishes or the baby? He chose the dishes, and that was the right choice. When I reached into the seat to pick you up, my hands felt something wet...and squishy. The moment of truth was upon us.
I called for backup as I raced you to the changing table. Shit was literally -- actually literally -- all over you. You had overpowered your diaper so thoroughly that the shit had made it into your hair and up over the curve of your skull. It had burst forth through every possible opening, coating your back, tummy, and legs in brown death.
Now, hindsight is 20/20, and if I had it all to do again, I'd have taken you straight to the shower and gotten in with you. The tried and true hose-down method. But I'm not a mom and I don't face shituations like this on the regular. I was in panic mode, and all I could think to do was to attack the problem one pathetically undersized baby wipe at a time. Toby heroically maneuvered the annihilated bouncy seat into a quarantine bag, and brought me the diaper genie before he snapped, running into the living room with his hands over his ears shouting "THIS IS WHY YOU ALWAYS WEAR A CONDOM!" It wasn't the poop that bothered him as much as your wailing while I tried to clean you up. Perhaps you were trying to tell me with words you didn't yet know that I was handling things horribly inefficiently. You were communicating loudly, but not clearly. So I kept at it with the wipes, until eventually, you were clean enough for fresh clothes. This was about 20 minutes after the initial alarm sounded.
There was still the issue of your hair, though. I took you to the kitchen sink, where I held you and Toby used the spray nozzle to get the fecal matter out of your hair. You didn't seem too bothered by this part of the process. You weren't naked anymore, and you had a clean diaper and empty intestine.
When the cleanup was done -- or so I thought -- we took you to the floor to do some playing. But every time you moved, I found another poo exclave. Ten wipes later, I was finally satisfied that you were clean. But I was exhausted. You weren't interested in playing. I took you into your parents' bedroom, laid down on the bed with you on my tummy, and we both fell asleep. Remember how all your naps previously had been in the 20-minute range? You snoozed for more than two hours with me that afternoon. We'd both worked very hard.
Was I upset that I had to deal with this literal shitstorm? Nah. It's a point of pride for me. I *handled* it. For the first time ever in my relationship with Toby, I kept my cool when he did not. I earned an Aunting merit badge that day that will forever link us in ways that run deeper than your average aunt-nephew bond. It's a trump card I can play whenever I want, not just against you, but against your parents as well. "Remember that time I dealt with your kid's six-day explosion while you were out partying? Yeah, we're doing what I want for dinner." And honestly, I think it's hilarious. In the moment, it 100% sucked, but now that I'm on the other side, I'm glad we shared this, Trevor. Of all the people in your life, there's no one who would enjoy this story more than I do. I'd honestly have been disappointed if you'd held it in until after my visit. I'd have felt like a failure. As it is, I'm a goddamn hero. So thanks for giving me that part to play.
September: In September, your dad got a job offer in North Carolina, and your parents had to decide between staying in Vancouver and moving back to the US, to a red state. It is my deepest wish that when you are old enough to read this review, you won't comprehend what a big deal the whole red state/blue state thing is. But in 2017, the idea of leaving the land of socialized healthcare for a red state under the Drumpf administration -- you'd have to have a REALLY good reason to want to do that. And your parents did. They had a lot of good reasons. Almost all of your family would be much closer. Your mom would have more flexibility in her career, and by extension, you'd probably have more opportunities in your childhood. I was SUPER bummed that they chose to move so far away from where I live, but I do think they made a good choice. I know the rest of your family is very happy to have you so close. And I'll fly out to see you as much as I can. It's not like adding 2500 miles to the length of my trip is going to dissuade me from coming to visit. Pssh.
October: You moved to Durham, and I came to stay with you for a few days. The house is big, your neighborhood is beautiful, and there's a lot of really great stuff nearby. I hate to admit it, but Durham might be a really wonderful place for you to grow up.
You were 10 months old by this visit, and your personality is really starting to show. You love moving. You're great at crawling and scooting, and you can walk with a little bit of support. You'll be taking your first real steps soon, I'm sure. You REALLY love food. You do this hilarious thing when your parents are preparing your food for you -- they'll have it in front of themselves, cutting it up into small enough pieces for you, and you'll be impatient for it, and you'll growl/scream for it. It's so intense. Like you're trying to use noise and intimidation to get that food straight into your mouth. You're not using words yet, but your intent is crystal clear. This is probably my favorite thing that you do, because it's so funny. Probably not socially acceptable for you to continue much longer, and I doubt I'll find it cute when you're 12. But at 10 months? The best.
November: I got to see you again at Thanksgiving. You're getting a lot of wear out of the kilt that we brought back for you from Scotland. I wonder if you'll willingly wear one when you're old enough to have a say about such things. But you look darling in your baby kilt, and I'll be sad to see you outgrow it. Speaking of growing, you are a hoss now. Carrying you for more than a few moments is legitimately hard work. You're less psyched about people who aren't your parents holding you now, too. You let me get in a few good snuggles, but mostly you wanted to hang onto your mom. There were lots of people doting on you, and even though it was overwhelming, you showed them your cutest self. All the Massies and Elders consider you one of their own, just like I do. You've got this huge extended family there, and they love you SO MUCH.
I will see you next in December, when Toby and I come home for Christmas. I can't wait to introduce you to my nieces and to Toby's mum. (That's the British word for "mom." Oh shit, please don't develop a North Carolina accent! I'll still love you if you do...but remember, you're CANADIAN!) I know you met Bess and Frankie briefly in April, but it will be good for all you "cousins" to have some real time together this holiday season.
Trevor, I love you so much. I'm so happy you are my nephew! I miss you all the time I'm not with you, and I think about you every day. I look forward to what milestones and bloopers your second year holds, and I hope I'll get to witness lots of them in person. Happy birthday, darling!
Here are some of my favorite memories from my first year of knowing you:
December 18th, 2016: I got word early in the day that your mom had started labor. I was already very impatient for this announcement, as we'd been expecting you about two weeks prior. I was promised regular updates as the day progressed, but I got frustratingly little in the way of news. I checked my phone constantly for information, and finally got the word that you'd made your arrival and everyone was well. Pictures soon followed and I was filled with joy. I would have to wait a few weeks to meet you, but I hounded your mom for photos and updates every day. I wanted to know all there was to know about you.
Early January, 2017: I took the train up to Vancouver, where you and your mom picked me up at the station. You were snoozing in the back of the car and I was so anxious to get home where I could hold you and cuddle you. I remember you being pretty chill. You let me hold you without too much fuss, or if there was fuss, I've forgotten it. Your mom showed me how to change your cloth diapers, and I tried to help as much as I could, but I may have been more in the way than helping. It's the thought that counts, right? Your poops were no big deal in the days before solid food, so I could volunteer to assist without much concern. (This will become relevant later.)
We took you on walks in your icy Vancouver neighborhood. You enjoyed the stroller. At home, you would relax in the stroller in the front hall until hunger or diaper discomfort struck, at which point you'd let us know it was time to mobilize. You didn't do a whole lot yet, but you looked cute in all your outfits and I delighted in spending time with you that week.
April: You got to spend a couple months in Charlottesville with your parents and grandparents, thanks to Canada's progressive parental leave policies. I took advantage of my own flexible "work" schedule to fly out and visit while you were there. Your whole family was around, and lots of extended family met you for the first time then, too. Your Grandmom is great at innovating toys out of whatever is in the house, and she had you practicing your percussion skills on some plastic containers, which you enjoyed very much. Walking remained one of your favorite things, and I enjoyed circling the neighborhood with you in your stroller, and sometimes carrying you. I appreciated that you didn't have too much stranger danger with me, and let me snuggle you lots.
May: In May, your Granddad George passed away. We were all very sad and miss him very much. It really put in perspective just how special those previous two months in Charlottesville were. Thank goodness for that Canadian parental leave policy! We are so glad that George got to spend some of his final months with his grandbaby. He loved you so much, Trev. You are going to hear a lot about George as you grow up. He was a special guy, and I'm sure you'll be a lot like him in a lot of ways. He had a rapidly progressing Alzheimer's case, and maybe it's best that you won't remember him like that. Instead, you'll learn who he was through everyone's favorite stories of what he was like before his illness. He was super smart. He loved to work puzzles and play games. He and my mom were bridge partners. Your mom and dad don't play bridge (yet?), but I would LOVE it if you'd like to learn. I'll play with you any time.
We all flew back to Charlottesville to take care of arrangements and to celebrate George's life. It was nice to get to spend some more time with you. Because your parents and grandparents were so busy, I got the job of holding you for a lot of the memorial service. I was so proud to take you around and introduce you to your granddad's friends and family, and tell them about you :) I tend to cry a lot at events like this, and getting to hold you was a real comfort for me. I know you were a real comfort for a lot of people in that sad time. It's impossible to be all the way sad when there's such a great baby around. You met some other babies whom I'm sure you'll get to know much better over the next few years. You're one of the first kids born in several of your parents' main social groups. That's going to give you a real position of power in future years, when everybody's getting together, and you're the oldest kid. I wielded this power myself, growing up with a bunch of kids in Squirrel Ridge. You'll get to pick most of the games you play, and also win most of them. But you'll also be responsible for making sure the youngest kids don't get left out or get their feelings hurt. So don't let the power go to your head. You need to be magnanimous. You don't want to be the reason other kids run crying to their parents. (Here is where I apologize to your mom for all the times I was shitty to her when we were kids. I did not always handle oldestness gracefully. Be better than that.)
July: For your dad's birthday, your mom got tickets to a beer festival in Vancouver. That meant they'd need an all-day babysitter. Toby and I volunteered for this task. Toby was long past due for meeting you, and we were honored to have the responsibility of one of your first stretches of time without either parent. Now, here comes a story I have since told hundreds of times, and will tell thousands of times more in my lifetime. It is my favorite story. It includes one of the proudest moments of my life. Here it is:
We arrived by train late Friday night. Your mom picked us up and said "I have to warn you of something. Trevor hasn't pooped since Sunday." That's FIVE days by this point. We were going to be on our own with you for most of Saturday. Seven months old now, you'd been eating solid foods for a few weeks, and your shit had gotten more intense...until it stopped altogether. Your parents had already taken you to the doctor, and they were trying all sorts of things to get you unclogged. Every time you farted, we thought "Is this the big one?" because your farts were passing through nearly a week's worth of poo, and each one smelled like armageddon. But by the time your parents set off for the beer fest, you'd been six days shitless. I knew our chances were good. You had to be nearly bursting by this point, and I have this knack for making constipated babies unload. Also, Murphy's Law, right? Of course it was going to happen while I was in charge.
The morning went just fine. We walked around the neighborhood with you in your stroller. You took a quick nap -- for a while, you'd been kind of a bad napper. 20 minutes here, 15 minutes there...we didn't expect to be able to put you down for long. We picked up some lunch and brought it back to the apartment. We put you in your bouncy seat while we ate. You were kind of outgrowing it, and your parents warned that you'd probably only be happy in it for a few minutes before starting to scream, so we knew we'd need to eat quickly. We scarfed down our food, and I gave Toby a choice: would you like to handle the dishes or the baby? He chose the dishes, and that was the right choice. When I reached into the seat to pick you up, my hands felt something wet...and squishy. The moment of truth was upon us.
I called for backup as I raced you to the changing table. Shit was literally -- actually literally -- all over you. You had overpowered your diaper so thoroughly that the shit had made it into your hair and up over the curve of your skull. It had burst forth through every possible opening, coating your back, tummy, and legs in brown death.
Now, hindsight is 20/20, and if I had it all to do again, I'd have taken you straight to the shower and gotten in with you. The tried and true hose-down method. But I'm not a mom and I don't face shituations like this on the regular. I was in panic mode, and all I could think to do was to attack the problem one pathetically undersized baby wipe at a time. Toby heroically maneuvered the annihilated bouncy seat into a quarantine bag, and brought me the diaper genie before he snapped, running into the living room with his hands over his ears shouting "THIS IS WHY YOU ALWAYS WEAR A CONDOM!" It wasn't the poop that bothered him as much as your wailing while I tried to clean you up. Perhaps you were trying to tell me with words you didn't yet know that I was handling things horribly inefficiently. You were communicating loudly, but not clearly. So I kept at it with the wipes, until eventually, you were clean enough for fresh clothes. This was about 20 minutes after the initial alarm sounded.
There was still the issue of your hair, though. I took you to the kitchen sink, where I held you and Toby used the spray nozzle to get the fecal matter out of your hair. You didn't seem too bothered by this part of the process. You weren't naked anymore, and you had a clean diaper and empty intestine.
When the cleanup was done -- or so I thought -- we took you to the floor to do some playing. But every time you moved, I found another poo exclave. Ten wipes later, I was finally satisfied that you were clean. But I was exhausted. You weren't interested in playing. I took you into your parents' bedroom, laid down on the bed with you on my tummy, and we both fell asleep. Remember how all your naps previously had been in the 20-minute range? You snoozed for more than two hours with me that afternoon. We'd both worked very hard.
Was I upset that I had to deal with this literal shitstorm? Nah. It's a point of pride for me. I *handled* it. For the first time ever in my relationship with Toby, I kept my cool when he did not. I earned an Aunting merit badge that day that will forever link us in ways that run deeper than your average aunt-nephew bond. It's a trump card I can play whenever I want, not just against you, but against your parents as well. "Remember that time I dealt with your kid's six-day explosion while you were out partying? Yeah, we're doing what I want for dinner." And honestly, I think it's hilarious. In the moment, it 100% sucked, but now that I'm on the other side, I'm glad we shared this, Trevor. Of all the people in your life, there's no one who would enjoy this story more than I do. I'd honestly have been disappointed if you'd held it in until after my visit. I'd have felt like a failure. As it is, I'm a goddamn hero. So thanks for giving me that part to play.
September: In September, your dad got a job offer in North Carolina, and your parents had to decide between staying in Vancouver and moving back to the US, to a red state. It is my deepest wish that when you are old enough to read this review, you won't comprehend what a big deal the whole red state/blue state thing is. But in 2017, the idea of leaving the land of socialized healthcare for a red state under the Drumpf administration -- you'd have to have a REALLY good reason to want to do that. And your parents did. They had a lot of good reasons. Almost all of your family would be much closer. Your mom would have more flexibility in her career, and by extension, you'd probably have more opportunities in your childhood. I was SUPER bummed that they chose to move so far away from where I live, but I do think they made a good choice. I know the rest of your family is very happy to have you so close. And I'll fly out to see you as much as I can. It's not like adding 2500 miles to the length of my trip is going to dissuade me from coming to visit. Pssh.
October: You moved to Durham, and I came to stay with you for a few days. The house is big, your neighborhood is beautiful, and there's a lot of really great stuff nearby. I hate to admit it, but Durham might be a really wonderful place for you to grow up.
You were 10 months old by this visit, and your personality is really starting to show. You love moving. You're great at crawling and scooting, and you can walk with a little bit of support. You'll be taking your first real steps soon, I'm sure. You REALLY love food. You do this hilarious thing when your parents are preparing your food for you -- they'll have it in front of themselves, cutting it up into small enough pieces for you, and you'll be impatient for it, and you'll growl/scream for it. It's so intense. Like you're trying to use noise and intimidation to get that food straight into your mouth. You're not using words yet, but your intent is crystal clear. This is probably my favorite thing that you do, because it's so funny. Probably not socially acceptable for you to continue much longer, and I doubt I'll find it cute when you're 12. But at 10 months? The best.
November: I got to see you again at Thanksgiving. You're getting a lot of wear out of the kilt that we brought back for you from Scotland. I wonder if you'll willingly wear one when you're old enough to have a say about such things. But you look darling in your baby kilt, and I'll be sad to see you outgrow it. Speaking of growing, you are a hoss now. Carrying you for more than a few moments is legitimately hard work. You're less psyched about people who aren't your parents holding you now, too. You let me get in a few good snuggles, but mostly you wanted to hang onto your mom. There were lots of people doting on you, and even though it was overwhelming, you showed them your cutest self. All the Massies and Elders consider you one of their own, just like I do. You've got this huge extended family there, and they love you SO MUCH.
I will see you next in December, when Toby and I come home for Christmas. I can't wait to introduce you to my nieces and to Toby's mum. (That's the British word for "mom." Oh shit, please don't develop a North Carolina accent! I'll still love you if you do...but remember, you're CANADIAN!) I know you met Bess and Frankie briefly in April, but it will be good for all you "cousins" to have some real time together this holiday season.
Trevor, I love you so much. I'm so happy you are my nephew! I miss you all the time I'm not with you, and I think about you every day. I look forward to what milestones and bloopers your second year holds, and I hope I'll get to witness lots of them in person. Happy birthday, darling!
