Metal Meredith

Henry turns one year old today. I will spare you the sappy letter of how much I love him and how he is truly a joy in my life. It is all true but even I tire of saying it.

I will add that in the past year, my previous skepticism of the reality of a mother-son bond has been severely compromised. There is truly something that we have between us that isn’t able to be put into words. His attention to me and favoritism was a welcome and very needed change.

Today we did the cake thing, which in itself, filled our hearts with laughter. Feel free to give yourself that gift, by watching the video below.

I am SO GLAD that Christmas is over.

But, I am SO GLAD that we were able to enjoy it.

The tree is down. All signs of Christmas are gone with the small exception of those outside lights and the wreath on the door. Next up is Henry’s first birthday (geez, help me through that) and then Vivienne resumes school, also known as “The Day the Angels Sing”. 

It has been a while since I bragged on the Big Butterball, so I am taking this opportunity to do so.

Henry is about 25 lbs. When you look at him, he looks big. But when you pick him up, it is obvious that every cell in his body is storing some food for later. He is solid and his little legs are as thick as those turkey legs you can buy at the state fair. Blessed with the double combination of Hertzler/White genes, he has stumpy little legs and no butt. Sad, sad white man’s back with a crack.

This is my favorite time in a baby’s life, when he is just starting to really learn his own feelings and wants and needs. When he is so obviously thinking and explaining, even though it doesn’t sound like anything but practicing Vietnamese. Unlike Vivienne, he is loud and talks a lot at this age. He sings, repeats sounds and mimics everything around him that catches his ear.

He has started recognizing that objects have names. He sees his ball and will crawl toward it repeating “Ba...ba.....ba....ba...” until he reaches it. If he sees Phil, he will say “Da da da da”. There are a few others, but you really have to be listening and observing the repeated sounds a few times to get what he is trying to say. He breaks out in song in Target or the grocery store and if there is an echo, there is no stopping the performance.

Like any good parents, we have taught him a handful of ‘tricks’ that we like to make him to on our whims. We have taught him to clap when anyone says “yay!”. Phil taught him to raise his hands above his head when someone says “wheeee!”, making him appear to be on a roller coaster. This did come in handy last week, when I was changing a particularly liquid diaper of the normally solid kind, when his hands would wander southward. Each time, I said “wheeee!” and he immediately raised them above his head.

We have yet to injure him too badly, or allow him to do himself harm. I think he fell off the second stair a few weeks ago. Yesterday, I shut his little foot in the car door. He is resilient as can be and bounced right back from all of these. With only a few real bumps and bruises, I wonder what kind of daredevil activities we are in for.

Henry’s main motivation in life is food. If you have it, he wants it. If you are cooking it, he smells it and will barrel toward you begging for it. Crack open a soda, beer or take a sip of water, he wants that, too. Put a pile of food in front of him and watch how quickly it vanishes.

Vivienne was walking at 11 months and 1 day. I have a feeling Henry will take a little more time and we are a-ok with that.

I needed some new shoes. Depending on where you are from, I needed some sneakers/ running shoes/ tennis shoes. I headed over to New Balance because my feet have been killing me and I trust the people over there to get the fit right. I also thought that I could pop in, try on a few pairs, ask about colors and style and go home to shop on eBay for quite the discount.

Henry was with me and I decided against lugging the stroller into the tiny store. So when I got in, picked some shoes and tried them on, I just sat him on the floor next to me. He crawled a few feet one way and a few feet the other then sat and pounded on some big machine. He was quiet and gentle and not making a big mess, so I kept on trying the shoes on which now featured a new set of (ultra comfortable) insoles.

The problem with these shoes is that they were BRIGHT WHITE. For anyone knows me and how very goth I am, white shoes just don’t fit into my wardrobe. Figuring those to be about $85, I was in the process of asking if they came in any less hospital-like sterile colors and as she was replying “no’, I looked over to see Henry drooling all over the shoe box.

At first it didn’t hit me. But then I quickly realized that I really should buy these shoes now that the box was tainted with baby spit. Our Hertzler DNA was all over that box and it would soon be all mine. Happily, the lady took the bundle over the register and started ringing them up. I heard one something teen something and figured the shoes were $85 and the insoles were near $20. I left kicking myself because I paid so much for shoes that I don’t like. At least they felt good.

When I got home, I took out the receipt to read the total was $160, $115 for the shoes and $40 for the insoles. After scraping myself off the driveway, I immediately went inside and started listing things on eBay to make up for it (which all have sold for a good amount) and I felt much better. Fortunately, my feet no longer hurt. But they are still white and still ugly.