Grow by Numbers

Izabella

2 years, 8 months

37 inches tall

30 pounds heavy

20 inches around her head

Leo

1 year, 3 months

31.5 inches tall

22 pounds 4.5 ounces heavy

20 inches around his head

Fall

September is here. At last. And with the sudden appearance of leaves on the ground and a bite in the air comes some changes in our household.

Nagymama is coming for a two-month visit. It will be her first visit since our wedding and the first time she gets to meet Leo. I took baby Izabella to see her when Iza was only 5-months-old and we haven't seen her since!

We are also changing our care-giver. A new housekeeper/nanny will join us. Luckily our current employee will stay nearby, literally only a few blocks away. She will be able to visit the kids and spend time with them. I am grateful for that.

Slowly, slowly I am emerging from the chrysalsis of new-mommydom. These wings are sticky wet and tightly furled. Give me, oh say, another two years to stretch them taut. And then I'll need years for them to dry. And then I'll learn to fly.

Milestones

Ms. Izabiza opens the bathroom door, sets her Elmo potty seat on the big potty, climbs the stool, turns around and seats herself. Thank you very much. And she tells Mama and brother Leo to stay out.

She requests "Hallelujah" (by Leonard Cohen).

Leo and Izabella can now walk all the way from our local ice-cream parlor, Freeze, to our favorite park, Lincoln Park. Tata holds Izabella's hand and she holds Leo's hand. The distance is approximately .35 miles. That is a lot of steps when your legs are only about 15 inches long!

We are in the second week of letting Iza go diaper-free as she learns to use only the potty. She still uses a diaper for nap and bedtime. It takes courage to let your little one out and about in public without a diaper. Beside a tiny little dribble on the Starbuck's floor (the bathroom was occupied!), she hasn't had accidents. Luckily the summer weather allows me to put a dress on her. She can pull it up herself when she needs to visit the potty. Today I taught her how to put on her little undies. The little bow goes just beneath her belly button.

Leo can climb and run. I can still run faster than him. These days are numbered.

He imitates Iza constantly. Certainly Iza learned from her peers, but Leo's drive to imitate his sister is incredibly strong. Despite their 17-month-age difference, this is little that separates their physical ability--except the difference in height and thus reach. He wants to go where she goes, eat what she eats, drink what she drinks. He even sits on the potty and reads a book, just like sister.

Izabella's hair is long and thick and slightly curly and completely out of control. Tata is in charge of washing it and giving her a blow dry. She hates the rinsing, but loves to have it dried.

As much I loved the baby stage, I think I will love the two kids stage even more. The potential for fun is greater. They are little entertainers--especially Leo.

Still tandem nursing. Iza only nurses once, maybe twice a day. Leo still loves to nurse a lot at night.

Now, if only they would sleep.

Leo's Gastronomical History to Date

Jan. 12, 2010

Banana

Not a fan

Jan. 17

Sweet Potato

Not a failure

Jan. 20

Banana

Green poop

Jan. 24

Butternut Squash

Take it or leave it, mostly leave it

Jan. 31

Pears

LOVED IT!

Feb. 16

Avocado

No

Feb. 19

Rice cereal mixed with pear

(no comment)

Feb. 20

Prune Juice

effective

Feb. 26

Apple

okay

March 4

Parsnip and Carrot

meh.

Aug. 2

Eats whatever we eat at the table

CORRECTION: wears whatever we eat at the table.

Notes:

--Drinks from straw

--loves to "feed" himself with spoon

--likes marinated mushrooms from Pier 4

--loves freeze-dried strawberries from Trader Joe's

--Nurses mostly at night and before each nap

--Too busy to nurse during the day

Stats

Lenard, One Year:

Ht. 30 in.

HC. 19 in.

Wt. 21.5 lbs.

(7/8/2010)

first word: uh-oh.

"Lenard"

In a few short weeks we will celebrate Lenard's first birthday. As I learned with Izabella's first birthday, this is a big deal--for me. Living through the first year of parenthood was a major accomplishment. Yet there is no bullet point under which to designate such on your resume. So there must be a party. With funny hats. Cake that the little one smears around. Cuteness, etc. Izabella's first year was an eternity. Leo's first year has passed in an instant. Still, he survived us. We survived him. Let's party.

As I ponder his yeardom, I realize that I have yet to write about the fact that he is "Lenard." By now calling him Leo is natural and I like the sound of it, "lay-oh." My little summer tomato. I even introduce him proudly as Lenard, "lay-nard," and give a brief explanation about his Hungarian roots. Still I am a bit shocked to think that I have a son, and his name is Lenard. It is a bold choice, the name. I can only hope he will carry it well. For his sake, I will tell the story of his name. It will be perfect fonder for elementary school essays and therapy sessions, perhaps.

Long before Leo, we were at his future Grandmother's apartment in Transylvania looking at birth certificates from ages ago. There are three male names that have been repeated in my husband's family. My husband has two of those names (long story), and his first son has the other. As we sorted through the birth certificates in his mother's collection there was a Lenard among them. I noticed it because my grandfather and one uncle are named Leonard. I remember thinking at that moment that Lenard would be the right name for our future son. If I only dared--both to have a son and to choose that name.

My husband has no recollection of this event. Clarification: He just said that he remembers looking at the certificates, but didn't have an a-ha, Lenard moment about his future son and doesn't remember Lenard among those ancestors.

You would think knowing for something like twenty-three weeks that it was a boy would be enough time to select a name. Not for us. We would leave the hospital with our little one nameless. It took us one week to return and officially designate him Lenard. In the meantime, we decided on Zoltan. I introduced him as Zoltan to our neighbors to practice with the name. Months later neighbors would ask how little Zoltan was faring.

Zoltan? Lenard? Unless you are Hungarian, you must think us terribly eccentric. Zoltan, however, is as common in Hungary as John in America. Perhaps even more common. Whenever my husband mentions that Zoli (the nickname) did or said such and such, the first question is always: Which Zoli? To American ears, on the other hand, Zoltan or Zoli is (methinks) pretty unusual, even cool. I liked that it cannot be translated to an American equivalent. We settled on Zoltan. One morning we rallied the family to get dressed and loaded up carseats to head to the hospital and sign the papers. As we were going out the door, my husband called a halt to the operation. He just couldn't do it. The baby wasn't a Zoli in his eyes.

To be honest the Hungarian male names just aren't that attractive, at least the ones available to us. The ones we liked were quickly off the list for various reasons. Our first list of names as of February 5th, 2010:

Laszlo
Albert
Lenard
Tibor
Zoltan
Attila
Boldizsar
Gabor
Lorand
Zoran
Istvan
Lukacs
Mihaly
Sandor
Zsigmond
Ferenc

Personally, I was at bat for Zsigmond. Baby Ziggy. Ziggs. Zig-zig. (For the record, I also wanted Izabella to be Izadora or Szilvia.)

As you can see, Lenard was on the first list and near the top. Really it was our best option, we just didn't have the courage for it.

As the pregnancy progressed there was another Lenard who made his presence known, my husband's ancestor from the 16th century. My husband uncovered his story while researching material for his new book, BURSTS. He may have a more recent family connection, but for sure our little Lenard's namesake is traced all the way back to Leonardus Barlabasi, the Latin for Lenard Barlabasi. Lenard was second in command ruling a province in Transylvania. Our Leo's Tata discovered that his letters, which survive in the administrative Latin used in that time, provide a window into the everyday life of that time. While he didn't win any battles or discover vitamin C, he was an top administrator and an avid letter writer. Our Leo may be a man of letters yet.

I would also like to include here a side note on the historical quest for Lenard's letter in the State Archives in Nagyszeben, Transylvania that did not make it into my husband's account in his new book. Yes, I was there with him. And as he mentions it was a sweltering summer day. I am not known to be tough as nails. I like air conditioning. I do. So I wilted next to him, my head resting on the table in utter exhaustion as his eyes nearly popped out of his head with excitement as he actually got to handle a letter written by Lenard in 1507. As it turns out, I was actually running a fever of 101 and would go on to develop a horrible racking cough. Not such a big deal, right? Except that I was eleven weeks pregnant with Izabella. Getting sick in Transylvania is no fun for an American. The Romanian hospitals are, well, creepy. I could go on. I could tell you how the doctor had no idea what I had, but that the nurse wrote down a recipe for onion syrup that she swore would clear up the cough. At any rate, I survived. Izabella survived. And Lenard's name survived too.

A final Lenard factor: Leonard Cohen. My husband introduced me to Cohen's music when he first wooed me. (That should tell you a lot.) Cohen was giving a concert in Boston. The tickets sold out quickly. Long story short, mama procured excellent tickets. I put Izabella to bed and left her with our sitter, that was the one and only date date since her birth. Hugely pregnant in a white summer dress I attended my first Leonard Cohen concert. It was brilliant. A gem. Totally worth every cent. And yet another positive Leonard to make us think that our little one could bear the name with pride.

11-Months: Lows and Highs

Leo has diarrhea. Iza had it last week. It is officially a bug. It is the real poopy deal. I thought I had seen diarrhea before with Izabella. Oh, no. Now I know. We have been eating the BRATY diet for too long--bananas, rice, applesauce, toast, and yogurt.

He also has the front four upper teeth erupting.

And then.

He face-planted on concrete. The blood, the tears.

A cool, wet cloth. A bit of nursing. Five minutes. He was over it. Me. Not yet.

The diarrhea? The good thing(s) about it:

1. I can finally spell diarrhea without resorting to using "die-uh-ree-uh."

2. White rice = really good, damn. Not sure I'll look at brown rice quite the same for a while.

In other news, Leo managed a bright spot on the day he turned 11-months-old: he climbed the stairs! It is the closest he has come to crawling. This one is a runner. Already I am below my pre-first-pregnancy weight (despite a diet that includes entire cartons of ice-cream and no official work-out program), this kid and his sister are going to turn me into a regular waif. Best diet ever: two toddlers.

More Lenard More

Leo is almost eleven months old. Currently he has one little toofer, the bottom front right tooth. But just because he is Leo, he is also working on at least three more teeth at the same time. And boy, oh boy, is he cranky. Poor little spud.

He now rides contentedly in the car seat. Thankfully our screaming infant days are mostly over. Car seats. My babies did not like them. At all. I didn't use pacifiers with my babies, but the car seat is one place that I wish I could have used it. There is just no way to comfort them in that plastic missile hurtling through space and time with mama just out of reach. Torture.

Just last week we had a first: Grandma was taking us to Allandale Farm to purchase our first garden supplies. Iza fussed a bit for snacks or water or something. Soon, however, I realized that the noise coming from the back seat was...giggles from both babies. They were making each other laugh. (I know that the giggling will soon drive me mad, they say.) But it was cool to know that they were communicating without words. And having a ball. I admit, I wanted to know what the hilarity was all about. But, mama, it is none of your business!

Leo is already hiking up his little foot and trying to climb onto the couch, the chair, anything. A climber indeed. (I have scheduled the babyproofing company. Yes, you can hire someone to do that. Yes, it is worth it.)

Leo is not an eater. Just not that into it. Especially not into sitting still in the high chair. He has figured out finger foods, which means he has lost interest in purees. One night, when Grandma and Grandpa were visiting, he sat peacefully and ate and ate and ate. I was amazed! Then he vomited three times. Projectile. Impressive.

Disclosure: I am also just not that into feeding Leo. There is no time to prepare the purees. He eats or not. He eats when we eat or not. He is still breastfeeding. He is fed. He is growing great guns. He will eat when he is hungry.

Leo wants to be exactly where Izabella is. Right on top of her. Preferably holding onto her hair and playing with the exactly the same toy. And when you try to distract him, he doesn't buy it for a second. He gets mad. If you take him across the house and show him a super cool ball, for example, he will calmly march straight back across the house to the super cool spoon, or whatever, that Izabella is using as a guitar. Yowsers. Yes, I have checked out "Siblings Without Rivalry." Would someone like to read it, prepare bullet points, and get back to me?

Leo Potato

Miss Izabella is a girl of a thousand names and a thousand more lullabies. Mr. Lenard, on the other hand, is Leo. And the one lullaby that emerged from my imagination stuck. Leo, Leo, You're my Little Potato / Leo, Leo, Sweet as a Summer Tomato. (Repeat.)

Even Izabella has started to call him "Leo Potato."

And when we tripled his birth weight well before the charts predicted, he was a little lump of spud--hard and hefty despite his diminutive size.

Some Numbers

Leo at 10-months-old:

Height: 29.8 inches (80%)

Weight: 19.34 pounds (18%)

That is right. Supermodel.