Let’s talk about the stroller code of conduct. It’s generally unspoken, but we all know what it is. There are rules of politeness that one expects when walking with a stroller. Unfortunately, the rest of the world is not privy to them. Perhaps we should stand on street corners, strollers blocking the way, passing out pamphlets with the stroller code of conduct printed on them. Until we have time in our busy schedules to do this, though, I suppose the following list will just have to be passed electronically.

1. When you see me walking down the street with a stroller, please move to the right. I will also move to the right. This way we can pass each other without the stroller, the child, and myself wrecking some elderly lady’s hostas or, worse, taking to the street to convenience the pedestrian without someone in tow. This rule has a subsection, applying to people walking down the street in general. Let me just say that I am easy to hear: I have a loud child who shouts, “Hi!” at any person (or dog or shrub or utility pole) he sees; I am talking to Robbie; there is music playing from my stroller to keep me entertained on these “adventures.” So, move to one side. Today I spent a block behind a woman who kept weaving from one side to the other. Every time I said, “Excuse me”, and tried to pass her, she went right back to the middle. When I blew past her as the sidewalk widened, she got all huffy. People, please. This is an elementary school rule: walk to the right!

2. If you see a person with a stroller trying to get into a building, please help him or her with the door. Granted, I have a system down for getting into buildings, as I live in Massachusetts and people are rarely interested in helping anyone they don’t know (and sometimes not even those they know!). I face the stroller away from the door, pull open the door, back in with the stroller, and try to make it before the door shuts on me. Don’t even get me started on those buildings with the two sets of doors to keep the heat or cold or rain or whatever out of the main building. My favorite experience with this happened at Bank of America. A lady came out of the building, thought about holding the door for me, and then dropped it. Today at CVS, the cashier, who had been on a break, took an extra loop around the front to avoid helping me get in the door.

3. If someone with a stroller is trying to cross a street (particularly at a crosswalk), stop and let them cross. It does no one any good for me to start part way into the road with the stroller and have cars continue to whiz by. I don’t know about the rest of the country, but in Massachusetts it is the law to stop for a pedestrian in a crosswalk. I find they used to stop more often when I was just by myself, a little less often when I was ginormously pregnant, and hardly at all now that I have a baby. Could someone please explain this phenomenon to me? So, let’s all take a vow right now to stop for those pedestrians (yes, even the ones without strollers). It will take a lot less time than getting pulled over by the cops for not doing it, and it’s just polite.

4. This last item on the Stroller Code of Conduct deals with people stupid enough to try to walk a dog and push a baby in a stroller (me). Please give these people extra wide berth. They are trying to make everyone in the house happy and not go crazy themselves. Furthermore, it is fairly obvious when someone has a dog with them. Don’t make the situation worse by suddenly acting surprised that there is a dog and try to find a way to escape the dog but have no where to go. The dog is on a leash. You probably had a good 25 yards to prepare for the encounter. If you really don’t want to deal with the dog, the stroller, or the crazed looking mother, just cross the street. At a crosswalk. Surely someone will stop for a sourpuss like you.

I’m sure I am missing many elements of the code of conduct. If there’s one you would like to see included, please add it in the comments. Just start with number five and continue on. Unfortunately, I only have time for four tonight… Robbie and I are flying to Lexington tomorrow. I have to pack for the two of us and prepare a to do list for Justin. And leave it in three different places. Curious about what a to do list looks like for an intelligent man who used to exist independently?

Wednesday Night
Trash and recycling out front
Recycling is in the pantry – both bins go out
Trash is by the back porch – both cans go out
Yard waste bag is just outside the gate – please put out
Pack for your trip
Your shoes are in one of two places: previously missing leather shoes are in the entry on the shoe rack, other leather shoes
and running shoes are in your closet on top of the pile of clothes on the floor.
If you can’t find it, it’s probably in the laundry basket in the guest room
The only tie I know of is on my dresser
If you still can’t find it, check the basement
If you still can’t find it, buy a new one
Park one of the cars in the back yard
I realize this sounds strange — we only have one parking spot in front of the fence and usually park at the grocery store
across the street. However, we cannot do this for five days straight.
Feed Barkley
Let Barkley out

Thursday Morning
Let Barkley out
Feed Barkley
Take Barkley to PetSmart
Take his bed and several toys. You wouldn’t want to sleep on a concrete slab with nothing to entertain you. Neither does
Barkley!!
Check catties food and water – FILL BOTH!
Leave a/c in Robbie’s room on and open gate
Catties have a place where it is cool if major heat wave
Turn off all lights
Take your phone charger!!
Lock the front door

Amazing, isn’t it? And to think, at one point they were able to exist entirely without us. Frightening.

This afternoon Robbie and I took a walk to the reservoir, where he spent a great deal of time shoveling sand. And, for the first time, I am proud to announce that he did not shovel sand into his mouth! That’s right, ladies and gentlemen, Robbie has figured out how to use a shovel! I wish I’d had a camera with me. Watching Robbie figure out how to dig the sand and put it in his bucket was priceless. He sat there, putting small bits of sand into his bucket, for at least twenty minutes. This lasted so long because he cued me to clap every time he put something in the bucket. I could have watched him do this for hours. To think he used to just lie there and do nothing. And now he can use a shovel? Are you kidding me?

Robbie has started to realize when he learns new things, which is almost as fun to watch as the new things he’s doing. When he takes a few steps to me in the water, he screams with glee. Like he’s done something no other kid has ever done. It’s probably a good thing he doesn’t know his buddy Pete is running laps around his house. That might do something to deflate him. He’s also started to realize items that are off-limits for him, particularly coins and rocks. I rarely have to grab these from his mouth anymore; instead, he brings them to me like they are treasures. Any man who wants to bring me money, even pennies, ranks high on my list!

I think I’ve found the key to surviving summer days with Robbie: walking. We’ve started walking everywhere. It started ten days ago with a 3.5 mile walk to and from a yard sale (remember that incredible pleather recliner purchase?). I’ve found that I like this better than going to the gym where I can’t really interact with him, even though we’re in the same room. On walks, I get to tell Robbie the name of everything that he points to, and he gets to see trucks, buses, and emergency vehicles with sirens and lights. I do not, however, really enjoy walking for the sake of walking. That’s why we went to the yard sale; I needed a destination.

Today, Roberto and I logged 6.2 miles on the stroller – my first 10k! We first walked 1.8 miles to the reservoir, where we “swam” for an hour and a half. After Robbie tired of shoveling sand and stirring the water, it was time to move on. We walked 1.3 miles to Wilson Farm to pick up our favorite summer dinner, chicken salad and Caesar salad, and then headed the 3.1 miles home. My entire body is killing me. I had no idea the amount of abdominal strength it took to push a stroller with a 22.5 pound child in it. Incidentally, Robbie slept for 2 of the miles and arrived home raring to go…

For those who have known me a while, you understand that walking 6.2 miles is a feat for me. For those of you who don’t, let me explain. Since Robbie was born, I have lost 65 pounds (or, for those of us who need more concrete examples, nearly three Robbies). Only 35 of that was baby weight! Sadly, my pregnancy weight was only five pounds more than my all-time high. So, these 65 pounds are very significant for me. It’s amazing what they’ve done for my self-esteem. I don’t cringe when I walk past those huge store windows — you know, the ones that emphasize every flaw? I don’t really mind trying on clothes. And, the biggest change? I wear shorts now.

I still have a ways (weighs!) to go… Another 35 pounds will put me at losing an even 100. Then I’ll really feel like I’ve accomplished something. And so I’ll keep finding destinations for Robbie and myself. And stroll myself right out of those last 35 pounds.

Although we’re a little late, Justin and I took Robbie to get his one-year pictures made this afternoon. We are exhausted! We might have fared better if Robbie had slept last night, but he was up at 1:00 and needed a bottle and a half of milk to go back to sleep. Maybe that’s what I should have had, too, because I tossed and turned until Robbie woke up again at 7:00. Luckily, my kind and loving husband took Robbie downstairs for some man time and let me get an extra hour and a half of sleep. Even so, I’m finding that taking on a full day of everything Robbie has to offer requires a solid night’s sleep.

Even though I awoke to some sort of screaming (how else would I hear it through a closed door and noisy air conditioner), Justin assured me everything had been fine while I was asleep. Judging by how fast Robbie leapt into my arms (while Justin was still holding him), I’m not so sure that the boys’ definitions of “fine” are the same. But, both were in one piece, and I’ll take that for an extra ninety minutes of sleep. Don’t judge; you know you feel the same way!

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After Robbie’s nap it was time to head to the Everett Target and the mass of humanity that had taken over the parking lot. We managed to survive crazy drivers and stupid pedestrians to get to the photo studio. Incidentally, who stops in a lane of traffic in front of a busy Target on a Sunday afternoon to rifle through their bags? We were quite a site struggling through the parking lot, wriggling baby and photo props in tow. We figured Robbie needed something to keep him occupied for the pictures and brought his rocket, Buzz Lightyear, Woody, and some books. I’ve never actually taken toys into a Target; it feels wrong somehow.

Robbie was a totally different kid for this photo session… A mobile one. Thank goodness we had the toys; I think those are the only reason we survived. Robbie was all over the place! Crawling to get behind the backdrop, grabbing for the camera that we couldn’t replace if he broke it, making a dash for the door to escape the camera. It was a rough day of being adorable. I stood near Robbie to catch him before he tried to jet, and Justin positioned himself behind the photographer, doing a monkey dance and making sounds I never want to try to duplicate. But, at the end of it all, we had some priceless pictures.

Robbie broke down as we left the store, and Justin lamented about how exhausted he was. I asked if he still thought I didn’t work during the summer, and the defeated man just shook his head, muttering, “I don’t know how you do it. I just don’t know.” Finally! Vindication! And, I have to be honest, I don’t know how all the stay at home moms do it. You have my total respect. I get to go back to work in three weeks, and, to be totally honest, I’m so relieved!

Tonight we hosted a first birthday party for four very special young men. Remember those close friends I couldn’t have survived without over the past year? We pretended the party was for our boys, but really it was a celebration of us (and our marriages!) surviving the past year. After exchanging presents for the boys, we all wondered why we hadn’t just exchanged presents with each other. After all, we did most of the work over the past year!

Growing up, I shared a birthday with a good childhood friend, Helen. We used to have our birthday parties together – I can remember one at the Living Arts and Science Center. I always thought it was special to have someone to share my parties with, and I love that Robbie has the same thing. Pete was born on the 21st, Max on the 27th, Robbie on the 28th, and Noah on the 29th. Even though they may not have the same birthday, we love that they are all in order (except for Pete who didn’t get the memo that he needed to be born the 26th, but he leads the way with having the wisdom of living an extra week).

The first time we got the boys together they were five or six weeks old and didn’t do much other than nurse and poop. They were just babies, after all. Today? They were all in little boy mode. The crawled around, picking up pine cones and sticks. They rolled toys on the driveway. And they were filthy. They squirmed and talked and grabbed and ate. It was everything a birthday party should have been. Right down to the tears. Robbie melted down at 6:00, his normal bath time. Ever the perfect host, right?

We did force the boys to make a video for Good Morning America’s “Week in Three Words” segment. We lined them up in chairs and had the husbands hold up the words behind them. I’ll post the video when I upload it. “Friends turning one!” was the sign (including a separate sign for the exclamation mark). Hopefully, our boys will get their fifteen minutes of fame on a future episode. Keep your eyes peeled!

Justin and I took a much needed date night tonight. We left Robbie, Barkley, and the catties in the hands of a reliable babysitter (and former student of mine) and went out on the town. Justin and I met for dinner at Za, a great place for pizza and salad (that’s actually all they serve).

The place was packed, and about a quarter of the tables had children. Loud children. The booth next to our small, romantic table had a three-year-old who wanted to be a part of our date and kept peering over at us from the top of the booth. The child at the table across from us was eating a Crayon. Across the restaurant was a screaming child. And Justin and me? We were in heaven because none of it was coming from our table. There was no food to cut up, items to keep out of reach, cups to pick up off the floor, or crisis to avert. It was the epitome of romance.

It’s funny how date night changes after you have a baby. First, you don’t take it for granted anymore. You don’t know when your next meal alone will be, so the one at hand must be savored. Second, you try to fit in as much as possible. Take tonight for instance. Justin and I went to dinner, walked to the movies, saw a movie, and went for ice cream. Which leads to the third difference. You find yourself rushing through parts of your date to get home early enough to not have to take out a second mortgage to pay the babysitter. You also find yourself going to less expensive places because you have to factor in the cost of said babysitter to your meal.

But, from one parent to another, these nights are priceless. They are marriage saving. For me, they remind me that Justin and I are a married couple, not just co-parents who exist in the same house. After all, isn’t that what it’s all about? Remembering that we’re in love? I’m glad I got the reminder tonight. Now, go make plans for your date. And leave the kids at home!

I never realized how hard it was to fill an entire day with a one-year-old. And a rainy day? Forget about it. It’s a lost cause. Take full advantage of nap time because that’s the only bit of sanity you’re going to have. I was at such a loss for what to do today that I took Robbie for a walk in the rain. Twice.

Now, in all fairness, I didn’t mean to take him for a walk in the rain – either time. This morning I just didn’t have it in me to go to the gym. I couldn’t face forty minutes on the treadmill. Instead, Robbie watched me attempt to get through a Jillian Michaels workout on On-Demand. My compassionate son laughed the entire time. Still not feeling like I’d quite earned my breakfast, I decided to take Barkley and Robbie for a walk. When I do this, I’ve found that it’s easiest to put Robbie in the Jeep baby carrier (similar to the Baby Bjorn, but Justin’s all about Jeep…) and have Barkley on a leash. It’s do-able with a stroller but much more difficult to maneuver. It still took a good five minutes (and a full body sweat) to get the child strapped to my chest and the dog on his leash. When we got outside and felt the raindrops, I couldn’t bear to let myself admit defeat. So, although it was a short walk, we took one. Around the block. Once.

By this time, Robbie was ready for yogurt and a nap. He helped me get caught up on So You Think You Can Dance, rocking his head in time to the music (this makes for difficult yogurt-feeding). By the time he was down, I was ready for a nap myself. But, there was a house to clean, friends to chat with… You know, all the tough stuff. Plus, I knew I had to gear myself up for the afternoon, which was full of emptiness. And, as we all know, an empty afternoon is a dangerous afternoon.

Robbie took a generous three-and-a-half-hour nap and was raring to go by 1:40. Since it looked like the sky had cleared a little, I figured we would walk to The Meat House to get steaks for dinner. It was a mile and a half each way, which would make out for missing my run in the morning. We loaded Robbie in the stroller, bounced him down the stairs, and off we went, rocking to the music on the iPod. And the clouds rolled in. I kept expecting to see lightning bolts a few blocks over. Not that it would have kept me from my walk. There was no way I was sitting in the house with Robbie all afternoon. Especially since he’s discovered drawers and pulling everything out of them. It’s absolutely maddening.

We got the meat, stopped for a little iced coffee, and headed home. Incidentally, Robbie enjoys iced coffee. He kept watching me drink it, and I kept promising him that he wouldn’t like it. Except he did. A lot. Ever since he figured out how to use a straw, he’s been unstoppable. Now, don’t go panicking on me. He didn’t drink too much. But I was surprised that he drank any of it.

It started raining when we were a block or so from home, so we ducked into our local florist. Really, we probably could have made it home (the downpour didn’t start until we’d been there for five minutes), but I knew it would still be two hours until Justin was home. Instead, Meg chatted with us, showed Robbie all the toys she had (I may be back for that puppet!), and made a gorgeous arrangement of flowers for our dining room table (I can’t just stop in to talk all the time!).

Robbie and I survived today. And we have plans tomorrow afternoon, rain or shine! I think we’ll be filling the rest of the summer with lots of fun mother-son activities.

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Barkley wasn’t too sure about Robbie when we first brought the baby home. He was nervous about the little alien creature who made funny noises and got more attention. It’s been interesting to watch their relationship evolve over the course of the year. Barkley still runs away from Robbie when he sees Robbie crawling towards him. I think he had just gotten used to having the extra “pet” in the house when Robbie was suddenly able to chase him. But Robbie has learned how to keep Barkley as his best friend. Food. Strategically placed food.

On Sunday, I made a huge yard sale purchase: a red, pleather, child-sized recliner. It was the best $2 I ever spent. The recliner clashes horribly with our living room furniture. And, as anyone who knows my husband will attest, Justin would never allow such a thing to enter our house, much less remain a permanent fixture in a main room. No one was more surprised than me that it has become his new favorite piece of furniture. Apparently it’s a guy thing because Robbie loves the recliner just a little more than his dad. And it has become the centerpiece for forging an even stronger friendship with Barkley.

Robbie enjoys sitting in his recliner, watching his Baby Wildcat video (yes, propaganda…), eating some chicken and bananas. Barkley enjoys this as well because Robbie is excellent at sharing. I’m not quite sure where Robbie picked up the whole sharing thing, but he has it down pat. He takes a bite of food and hands over the second half of the bite to the dog, who is strategically placed at the arm of the recliner. Sometimes, Robbie forgets to save Barkley half of his bite, so he kindly removes the food from his mouth and Barkley gingerly takes it from his hands. Tonight, however, Robbie discovered a whole new level of fun in sharing with his best friend.

Young Robert discovered that if he puts food on the seat of the recliner next to him, Barkley will lean his furry little head over the arm of the chair to get even the smallest morsel of food. This puts the poor dog in an excellent position to be grabbed by the sticky hands of an ebulient one-year-old. And the poor dog was remarkably tolerant of this as Robbie pulled at his ears, looked at me, and grinned from ear to ear.

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Robbie has always been a pretty reliable guy, especially since he started daycare at nine weeks old. Within a week of starting, he took a bottle at 9:00 and 1:30 and slept from 10:00 to 1:00. And he translated this schedule to the weekends, much to the delight of Justin and myself. He goes to sleep at 6:30 every night and politely entertains himself until between 6:30 and 7:00 every morning. I rely on this schedule. I live for this schedule. It defines my day and gives me time to recharge.

Today, for the first time I can remember, Robert Gaetano Manna refused to take his nap, and my entire day was turned upside down. Robbie went down at the usual time and cried for an hour. Since we had a lunch/play date scheduled for early afternoon, I decided it wasn’t worth the effort to keep trying to get him down. So, at 11:00, our scheduled chaos began.

Robbie (and I) survived lunch out with Robbie’s best friend Pete and his dad without incident. Robbie was even fun at the playground, although he was a little fussier than normal on the swings. We played on the jungle gym and tore up grass, throwing it in the air. Robbie held himself together with more class and style than I would have expected. I, however, was another story.

Robbie finally went down for a nap around 3:00, and I was spent. It was all I could do to make it up the stairs to put the cherub down in his crib, where he cried for about ten minutes before finally crashing. I had no idea how much I relished those three hours every day when he naps. It’s my “me” time. The time that I should use to clean the house (and usually do just a little) and write overdue thank you notes for end-of-the-year student gifts and Robbie’s birthday. In all reality, it’s the time I use to catch up on shows on my DVR and, if I’m really lucky, take a little nap. It’s the time I waste on Facebook, catching up with friends who live too far away to see for lunch.

Tomorrow’s a daycare day, and, if I know Zhining, Robbie will be back on schedule by 10:00 tomorrow morning. And, as I lay on the couch Thursday afternoon, I’ll be grateful for the period of calm during our day of scheduled chaos.

We know all of the big milestones babies make and furiously write them down in baby books. Or promise ourselves that we’ll remember to write them in baby books – and then forget. The first time he slept through the night. The first time he smiled (of course that wasn’t gas!). The first time he rolled over. The first time he held his own bottle and slept on his belly (these happened to fall on the same cold, February day in Kentucky). His first tooth and first word. The first time he crawled. The first time he pulled up. The first time he stood on his own. You see where I’m going with this…

But what about the less important accomplishments? Tonight I marveled at Robbie as he sucked his water through a straw. Can you believe it? My genius child figured out how to get the water to his mouth from a straw! And he looked like a pro. Like he’d been doing it for weeks. But there isn’t anywhere in Robbie’s baby book to write about that (well, from what I can remember when I looked through it before Robbie was born). In a few months, I’ll take this new skill for granted and it will no longer be a magical feat.

Robbie has also figured out how to sit in a mini-recliner. That was our big yard sale purchase yesterday (a very well-spent $2 if you ask me, although Justin has yet to see the red pleather chair in our living room). I looked over and he was sitting cross-legged, arms resting on the chair, staring off at the TV. He looked like this cool guy hanging out watching football. Except he was watching Baby Wildcat, propaganda we’re using to brainwash Robbie into attending UK. Soon, he’ll be throwing himself onto regular-sized furniture, and I’ll be irritated at how he does it. But for today, I’ll marvel at the fact that he figured out how to sit in his own chair. Granted, learning how wasn’t a smooth trip. It involved climbing from the chair onto the coffee table. And there was the sitting-backwards-in-the-chair-and-falling-off incident… But he’s finally hit the half-milestone of sitting in his own recliner. I think I’ll be adding a page to that elusive baby book. Now if only I could find it…
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There are few things as important to a mom as a good friend, particularly a good friend with a child close in age. She can fully appreciate your child’s tantrums (and your sure-to-be-rational responses to them) and your husband’s stupidity. She is savvy enough to never mention any of your husband’s shortcomings in front of him. She is up at 7:00 in the morning when you need to vent about your hellish night, and she’s willing to take your kid so you can get a night out. She comes over to keep you company and run errands with you when your husband has been out of town for four days and you’re dying for adult company. And, most importantly, she still likes you after all of this.

I wasn’t sure that I needed “mom” friends when Robbie was first born; I already had a nice selection of friends. Surely they could understand when Robbie had an explosive diaper or threw up in the middle of the mall. And I’m sure they do understand, but it’s on a different level. A mom friend not only understands but is equipped to deal with these potential disasters. She has extra wipes and doesn’t squirm when she gets covered in poop or vomit while trying to help. She has food and toys in her bag when you run out of the house without anything. And she doesn’t judge you when that happens more than once.

Find these friends and hold on to them! When I think about the past year with Rebecca, Anne, and Cathy, I’m not sure how I would have survived without them. We took our kids to see Santa together, and they were prepared when Robbie vomited an entire bottle all over the mall sitting area. They invited Robbie and me over for meals when Justin was out of town, and I was at my wit’s end. They volunteered to come sit with me when Robbie was sick and Justin was in class. Most importantly, they’ve kept me laughing at all the mishaps along the way.

We’re having a joint birthday party for our boys next weekend (they all have close birthdays: 21, 27, 28, and 29 July). While I’m sure the boys will enjoy digging into yet another piece of cake (or pie for Pete, since he doesn’t like cake…), the celebration will really be for us. We’ll celebrate finding each other and surviving our first year. And we’ll celebrate the future — together.