Mother's Intuition or The Big Group of Doctors???

My baby, my son, will be 11 months old this coming Sunday. I don't know where the time went, it seems I was pregnant yesterday. In his short 11 months, he has done everydamnthing early.

*He was rolling in both directions by 4 months.
**This is also when he started solids and had NO problems with it.
*He was army crawling and sitting up at 5 months.
*Discovered he could use a straw/cup at 6 months.
*He was off his belly and crawling around at 7 months.
**This is when we stopped the purees completely, again with no problems.
*He was pulling up on furniture at 8 months.
*He started walking at 9 months.
*All he does is walk now, rarely crawls, and "jargons" constantly. Knows "Mum-mum," "ba-ba," "breh," and occasionally "dada." Translated: mum-mum, bottle, bread, dada.

We just can't keep this kid from learning. Maybe it's because Beth hit all of her milestones, save for talking, right on the "average" mark, and she's really the only gauge we have to compare him to. Maybe we're just those parents who assume they have the Prodigal Child and naturally, he'll be advanced. I don't know. Either way, the topic of cow's milk has come up.

We didn't start switching Beth until a few days before first birthday. We very much stuck to the AAP's recommendations when we did everything with her for fear of breaking her. Kaiser, our HMO, has a delightful way of scaring the everlovin' CRAP out of you that you will inevitably, by hook or by crook, cause your child to die of SIDS. There's a warning with guidelines on what not to do on the handouts you get at every well-child check-up. There are videos. Classes. Reminders at appointments. When we finally did transition her, we had to go through a two-week-long soy milk phase to get her off the formula because her tummy, and henceforth her lower intestine, didn't appreciate the change. In turn, mommy didn't enjoy the aroma wafting from her Huggies.

But with Bubba, what with all his earliness, we're toying with the idea of starting milk when this big can of formula runs out. Buy a smaller can and a gallon of whole milk, and go slow. It's only a month in advance. He eats so well now and plows through more than 30 ounces of formula in a day. That's a lot! By the time we finish this can, he'll have gone through a 32-oz. can in 10 days. I know there's the whole iron factor, but this kid eats red meat, turkey, canned beans, bread...he gets his iron. He's not overweight; in fact, he was in the 67th percentile for weight and 65th for height at his 10-month check-up.

There is the concern of developing diabetes, but I've not read the studies that show the likelihood of that as a direct result of cow's milk before a child's first birthday. I doubt it's substantial. Anyway, our families have no food allergies, just outdoorsy allergies: dust, mold, trees, grass, pollen.

I want to switch him over. So does my husband. We know he's ready and can handle it. But I'm a chronic rule-follower, I'm nerdy like that, and I haaaaaaaate to bend the rules. Rob wanted to start him on solids at 3 months and at first I agreed. So we bought the cereal...and it sat in the pantry until his four-month birthday because I was too chickenshit to break the rules.

Every child's different, right? So what harm will a few weeks difference do? None...right? I'm such a waffler. I need a Magic 8 Ball.

Our Genes Make Us Immortal.

The apple doesn't fall from from the tree, you are your mother's child, et al. The list goes on and on, the adages that describe the eternal connection between parent and child. I see traits in myself that I watched rear it's head - be it ugly or endearing - in my parents while they were raising me.

I'm quick-witted. I don't forego the opportunity for a wisecrack and I'm the first to poke fun at someone's comical misfortune. I got this wonderfully controversial trait from my mom. The difference between her and I is that I know when to bite my tongue: she'll continually make rude remarks in someone's general direction even when etiquette (and common politeness) dictates you should shut your yap.

I have a fantastic memory for all things that happened months and years ago. My mom has a good memory too. I can vividly remember waking up at 3 a.m. on my first day of kindergarten because I was so excited to start school. I got myself dressed in a lilac-colored sweatsuit, combed my "Dorothy Hamill" haircut and marched into my parents room, all kinds of proud of myself for being ready on time. I was welcomed by two bleary-eyed, sleep-addled bodies who told me it was too damn early and for god's sake, go back to bed. Not to worry, it didn't extinguish my excitement for my impending education. Mom's always telling me tales of her youth; the sock hops, going to dance halls, shenanigans with her sibilngs. I love hearing those stories. It speaks to a different time that I will always long to have experienced.

I have a perpetual need to help people. So does my husband. This kinda makes us doormats for people who always need help, but time after time we're happy to help. My dad was a helper. Ask anyone who knew him and they'd tell you that he'd have given the shirt off his back to help someone. You need something hauled? He was there with his truck. That, incidentally, was his logic to my mom when he bought the truck: What if something needs hauled?

And, as it goes, we look for our personalities in our own children. I'm quickly discovering that Beth didn't just inherit my stunning good looks (don't let the soda shoot out your nose!) - I jest, she's freakin' adorable - but she got a few other traits as well.

She's hell bent on doing things HER way. You're in for one heck of a tantrum if you try to force her to do anything she doesn't want to do. You might recall a recent trip to the beach. Or perhaps the hot dog incident.

I'm the same way. Even if it means walking ten miles to go ten feet, I'm doing it MY way. The world can kiss my ass as can everyone I'm inconveniencing!

She's...and I mean this in the NICEST WAY POSSIBLE...kind of an airhead. I am too. I openly admit it: I'm a ditz. It's like my husband likes to say of me, "I don't know how someone so smart can be so dumb sometimes!" It's not said in malice, nor is this sentiment towards my daughter. She's smart as a whip, has the memory of a friggin' elephant, and at times can confound us with the conclusions she draws all on her own. But sometimes you ask her the most basic of questions and all you get is this blank stare accompanied by, "Ummmm...*tsk*...Ummmm...*tsk*" I do lament passing on this unfortunate trait but as there's nothing I can do about it, really, I may as well teach her to laugh about it.

She has very selective hearing. I believe this may apply to all preschool-aged children but I wonder if she doesn't have Beth Filters over her ears. It blocks out all the things she doesn't want to hear that don't promote her interests white noise and allows in just want she wants to hear. I'm accused of possessing this trait on a near-daily basis so I have to assume it's true. *shrug* Que sera, sera!

Everything else you can credit to her dad. Her stubborn-as-hell attitude, her apathy towards learning new things, her insistence that things can wait to be done until she's damn good and ready, and her way of dodging questions whose answers can only lead to trouble.

As far as I'm concerned though, she's nothing but good. Even her impish side, the side that causes her to wreak havoc in my world, I love all of her. She's my SnuggleBug, my baby, my love. Wouldn't trade her for the world!

Really? Already? I'm not ready for this.

Okay, I'm ready for it. In fact, I've been hoping he'd pick up on it early. Don't get me wrong, I love babies and I dearly love my children. But the more independent Beth became, the easier my life got; now I'm aching for Robby to become more independent. I need kids that can walk, feed themselves, and take instructions. That may sound harsh but it's my truth.

Where Beth's at now? Almost perfect for me. I don't want her to get much older than she is. She's young enough that she still more or less obeys me - she has her antagonistic moments though - and she looooooooooves helping me do chores. She's very playful but understands the need for down time and sleep. She still has a big sense of wonder about the world and isn't bogged down by the stress of school and friendships. She has three friends: Boy, Valeta's boy, and her cousin who lives up near Sacramento. She hardly ever sees that latter two so her friendships are really a friendship and she sees him every day. She's fully potty trained and is a terrific little girl. Beth, Love, please don't grow up. Stay just the way you are.

Anybody else wish they could hit the pause button on their life, just for a little while? I can't wait to see my kids grow up into adults. I know they're going to be successful in all that they do because they both have the tenacity and smarts to achieve it. But there's that bittersweet feeling in my heart that wants them to stay little forever.

I hate to inundate you with videos today, but I have to share this video. It reminds me of todays sentiments.