November 2006
Nov. 20
Compromise
Sometimes, you see kids sitting around in really weird
outfits and you wonder, what were the parents thinking? Didn't they
notice that their kid is wearing spring pants and Christmas-theme
gloves together?
I now know that the answer is, Of course they did,
but it was between that and a nude baby. One of my friends has a 2
1/2-year-old daughter who is in the midst of another nudie baby phase,
except she has the motor skills to do something about it, and the
compromise is that every day, this little girl wears the same shirt
and pants. They are by now too small - moer like capris and belly
shirt - but it matters not to the daughter, and the mom is just happy
that at least her kid's wearing something.
Well, Eliza, too, wants to be as nude as possible
all the time. She was sitting around in just her onesie this morning
and her feet and hands were getting chilly so I decided to put more
on her.
As you can guess, this decision met with strenuous
objections. I got the pants on her OK and the little Skecher/Ugg shoes,
but when I went near her with long-sleeved items, she wigged out.
So I compromised by putting the Possibly New Best Hat
Ever on her head in an attempt to keep at least some of the heat from
leaving her body.
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Nov. 18
Angry Raspberries
My mom warned me that when you have kids, you will frequently
find yourself laughing to the point of pain. I didn't believe her,
but she was right. There are about a million different reasons Eliza
makes me laugh every day. When she does her manic little giggle-n-wiggle,
how can I help reciprocating? When she's in her Exersaucer, panting
with concentration as she investigates the toys and tries to figure
out how to get every last one of them in her mouth, I have to smile
at the sweet-seriousness of her efforts. When one of her attempts
to sit up goes wrong and she ends up pretzeled amid the toys in the
pack and play, it's sheer slapstick.
I hope she knows that I'm not laughing at her to be malicious - it's
really just an overflow of delight and adoration that I'm at a loss
to express any other way.
I try to validate what she's feeling when she's truly sad or angry
and take her seriously, but lately, she is making this difficult because
she has gotten into the habit of blowing raspberries when she is pissed.
Now, to begin with, I have never met a child so obsessed with raspberries.
She can make them for a half an hour and longer at a time, keeping
herself perfectly happy spraying the vicinity with Eliza-spittle.
So I suppose it was only a matter of time before she began using them
for evil as well as good, and now, when she is mad, she blows very
forceful ones. I don't know if you have ever encountered an angry
raspberry, especially from a cherubic but very red-faced baby, but
they are among the funniest things you will ever see and hear.
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Oh, the Therapy She's Going to Need ....
I walked through the mall with her in the Baby Bjorn,
wearing this hat. There wasn't a single person who didn't crack up
when they saw her. I hope this isn't imprinted in her memory and years
from now she's going to go on a murderous rampage because when she
was 6 months old people were laughing at her...
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Nov. 17
Guess What Amazing Baby Slept Through the Night Last Night?
Missy slept from 7 p.m. to 5:30 a.m. Granted, that wake-up
call came a little earlier than I would prefer, and it's probably
not a regular thing yet, but check out my big girl! I'm convinced
all over again that I have the smartest, most wonderful baby in the
world.
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Speed Traps
A pet peeve of mine is people who slow down when they
pass a police officer who has pulled someone over for speeding.
He's busy - why are you wasting this opportunity to
speed with impunity?!
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Nov. 16
I'm Competng Against Myself
I send my mother daily updates about Eliza. She is the
first grandchild; my mother is pretty much insane about her.
Eliza looks very much like me at her age, and of course
developmental phases are similar from baby to baby. So time and again,
my mother says things about oh, how cute I was when I was that age,
and how I did the same thing when I was that old, and how I was a
great baby, etc.
I was getting really irritated because I know that
MY baby is the best, cutest, smartest, most unique baby in the world,
and then I realized I was getting competitive with a 33-years-ago
version of me. I'm still pretty sure Eliza's the best baby ever, but
it was funny to realize.
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Nov. 16
1,000 Words About Carrots
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Nov. 15
Heroes
Jim had downplayed the Born to Run box set. Maybe I'll
get it, maybe I won't; I suppose it might make a nice Christmas gift
- that seemed to be the general attitude.
Reconstructing a timeline of the morning from his report,
I think he made it to about 10:30 before he caved and headed to the
CD store.
I figured he would, because he can't stop himself -
he loves the guy's music, admires his politics, and would (and has)
planned international vacations around Springsteen concerts.
Sometimes, he gets embarrassed about it and tries to pooh-pooh it,
or admits that it's a little out of control. And I tell him that I'm
hardly the one to throw stones, what with the kidney infection I got
in 1993 because I didn't want to lose my spot in line to get into
the pit of a U2 show. What he doesn't seem to understand amid his
disavowals is that his willingness to go off the deep end for something
is part of what attracts me to him. I think everyone should have something
they're a little nuts over; passion is a good thing and I don't know
that I would feel simpatico with someone who didn't get hung up in
a good way on at least one thing in their lives.
I love where my U2 mania has led me. It was never a
groupie thing (though, Bono, yum). It was more about engaging with
something completely. Physically, it spurred me to travel, as when
I chose my study abroad destination and later travels around Europe
based on their concert schedule. Metaphorically, their shows made
me explore new paths, opening my mind, thinking about our culture,
turning me on to new music, helping me heal myself after the devastation
of my father's death. There's a whole lot about who I am that was
tangentially or directly affected by my fandom. Not least, it helped
me connect to Jim because I understood what it was like to be a fan
in that way, and I even knew what it was like to be a fan of Bruce
since U2's fandom of him had led me to explore his music.
And now that we have Eliza, I really hope that this
is something we can pass on to her. Not the Bruce thing, or the U2
thing, but to throw your arms around some part of the world this way.
Sure, I have dreams of the three of us one day going
to some show together, but even if that never happens, whether it's
stamp collecting or movies, I hope she finds it.
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Nov. 11
Gobsmacked by Peekaboo
Jim and I like to play peekaboo with Eliza. In this,
we are completely undeterred by the fact that she doesn't get it.
We pop out from behind chairs, hide our heads under blankets; I play
every morning with the shower curtain when I'm in the bathroom.
We are waiting, and waiting, and waiting, for her to
grasp the concept of object permanence, and she just doesn't get it.
We know this because of her complete and total amazement every time
one of us pops out of our hiding spot. We could have jumped up from
behind the same wall 10 times already, the 11th time, she is still
going to look flabbergasted. Sometimes, we really startle her and
she does a wonderful flail.
The thing is, even though the point of the game is
totally lost on her, she thinks it's hilarious. She thinks the word
"peekaboo" is too funny, and starts giggling anytime she
hears it. And every time we appear, she smiles.
People say it's a milestone the day your kid grasps
a concept that is beyond the intellectual ability of your pet. Moe
loves peekaboo and definitely gets it - after we pop up from behind
the sofa a couple times, she races over to the sofa and jumps on the
back of it to catch us in our hiding place. (Try not to dwell too
much on the fact that we play peekaboo with our cat.)
I guess we have a ways to go yet...
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Nov. 10
Firsts
First Concert: Vote for Change, 7 weeks gestation
First trip to Disney World: 7 weeks gestation
First beach: Darien, Ct.
First time Mommy and Daddy left you with someone: When
you were 8 days, Grandma Texas watched you whie we went and had dinner
to celebrate surviving the first week. Mommy wept the entire time.
First parade: This October, when we walked out of Friendly's
and about 20 minutes' worth of Harley Davidsons drove by as a fundraiser
for cancer.
First restaurant: The Brewery
First big city: Boston
First festival: Celebrate Holyoke - you fell asleep
while the polka band blared
First fair: Cummington
First horse race: At the Three-County Fair
First movie in a movie theater: March of the Penguins
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Hard Rock
Eliza is learning to sit up. Every day, she gets a little
better, can sit up unsupported a little longer. But she is still subject
to frequent sitting system malfunctions, wherein she suddenly pitches
forward onto her face. Usually we catch her in time, and usually it's
a soft surface she lands on.
Today, Jim was playing guitar for her. She loves this,
both the music of it and the cool big shiny objectness of it. He had
her propped up in our easy chair and he was sitting facing her on
the ottoman, he reports (this story is hearsay).
She was enjoying her private concert when she had a
system malfunction and sank forward against the guitar. Jim was concerned,
especially when he saw that there was a little red mark, probably
a bruise-to-be, on her forehead. He decided against calling the doctor,
however, because she only cried briefly and seemed to have forgotten
all about the incident in about thirty seconds, and she acted totally
normal the rest of the day.
Besides, he said, I hit myself in the head with my
guitar to see how it felt, and it didn't really hurt that much.
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Nov. 8
Mmmmmmuh, Mmmmmmuh
In part one of this post, I have to set some things
straight.
The first is that contrary to what I said in my description
of the Poopsplosion experience, now that she is almost completely
on formula, Eliza's poop smells AWFUL! Sudddenly, it's gone from being
weird runny mustard to, you know, poop. And oh my god does it stink.
On the upside, it's less runny and thus easier to prevent from spreading
itself around.
The second regards the same post, specifically, the
unbelievably annoying screeching/grunting thing. She actually has
come up with an even more annoying noise:
mmmmmmmmmmmmmuh. Mmmmmmmmmmmmuh. Mmmmmmmmmmmmmmuh. This
may not seem like that annoying a noise, but come talk to me after
your kid has made the same noise for 48 hours and see how you feel.
Part two
She redeemed herself almost completely, however, with
a highly entertaining first-solid-food experience.
I should backtrack and say that though the literature
on babies says to start solids between 4 and 6 months, our pediatrician
said she shouldn't have solid food until 6 months. Unless she started
squawking when she saw our food. We never eat around Eliza, so I wondered
what would happened if we did, and though mostly, she was in her own
little world, she did start to look interested.
The weekend before last, for Jim's birthday, I made
pancakes. Missy looked intrigued to the point where I stuck a tiny
piece of syrup-soaked pancake in her mouth - a crumb, really. IT BLEW
HER MIND. The expressions as they played across her face were priceless.
So I wanted to start with rice cereal, the approved
solid food, as soon as we had some tape freed up on the video camera,
and on Sunday, we made our grand debut.
I'm not sure that she actually ingested too much cereal,
but she seemed to be having a really good time. She grabbed the spoon,
smeared the goo around on the chair tray, drooled rice cereal everywhere,
blew very viscous raspberries, and - I'm not sure this is related
- stuck her finger up her nose really far.
Food has now become part of the evening ritual. So
has a bath...
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Nov. 2
My Baby Sleeps. Or Possibly Is Dead
Last night, Eliza slept from 7:30 p.m. until 4:30 a.m.
Since she usually wakes somewhere around 1-ish, I woke
up at 3:30 in a panic and was convinced she was probably dead. However,
I was reluctant to go into her room to confirm this because on the
off chance that she wasn't dead, I didn't want to wake her up. So
I decided, well, if she's dead, it can wait until morning because
there's nothing I can do about it anyway and I'm really tired. But
then I thought, what if she's only a little bit dead - then I should
go check. So after arguing with myself for a half hour, I finally
went and checked, and of course she wasn't dead, just fast asleep,
so I went back to bed until she woke up at 4:30.
This illustrates why I cannot be a world leader, because
if I were awakened in the middle of the night to address some sort
of grave crisis, I would clearly not be capable of rational thought.
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Nov. 2
Moe and the Squirrel
I think Moe is unfulfilled in a Bettye Friedan stifled
housewife sort of way. Barney's perfectly content to play with catnip
mousies and cadge for treats, but Moe, Moe longs to feel the wind
in her fur and the crunch of dirt between her toes. We take her outside
sometimes, but only on a leash, and after attempting various Houdini-type
maneuvers she gives up and lies down in the dirt.
We used to let her roam around off leash, supervised,
until the day I walked out with her and I blinked and in the .02 seconds
it took me to do so, she bolted straight up a tree a good 25 feet.
Where she sat, triumphantly, until it was time to come down. She was
kind of scared, but she carefully backed her way down, puffy-tailed,
and muttering cat-swears to herself the whole way. You could tell
she felt like a real kitty that day.
I'd let her be an outdoor cat if we didn't live so
close to the biggest road in our town and the highway.
So, she contents herself, as she must, with staring
out the window at the squirrel who taunts her.
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