Posted in Daily Life, Happiness on November 18, 2012| Leave a Comment »
What do babies keep in their pockets?
I’m semi-serious. Look at these lovely things:
Two nice big buttons, excellent depth to keep those important items safe. And full of nothing but lint. Such a waste!
I may have to start putting things in there just to give them purpose. Cheerios, perhaps.
Posted in Daily Life, Kvetchitude on November 14, 2012| 3 Comments »
A few Fridays ago I was in Macy’s. That was the second day of November, in case your memory’s as bad as mine.
Lots of things bugged me while I was in there, but primarily I was pissed about the Christmas decorations. It’s too early. I know why the retailers do it, but I just hate it. Maybe it’s because I worked in advertising for so long, or because I worked retail one Christmas season.
To make matters worse, this year’s slogan at Macy’s is “Believe,” which made me think, “in what? Spending money?” Additionally, I thought, “Gag me.”
Here’s the other stuff that perturbed me:
– Passing the men’s cologne counter is like eating soap.
– It is not possible to pick a tie in under half an hour because there are at least 80 shades of each color and pattern variation.
– All the cosmetic counter claims are bullshit.
– It is mean to sell $500 purses in the Midwest.
You know what’s cool, though? There’s an iPod vending machine in Macy’s now.
Also cool: Nordstrom doesn’t put up Christmas decorations until after Thanksgiving. Maybe I’ll start entering the mall through there instead.
Posted in Daily Life, Happiness, Photopost, Stuff I Like on November 12, 2012| Leave a Comment »
Posted in Daily Life, Happiness on November 10, 2012| Leave a Comment »
This morning around 3:30, I thought I heard a few unhappy sounds from the baby. Not full-on crying, just moaning that was on the verge of becoming something… more.
When I peeked at the video monitor I saw that Ned — dear, dear Ned who is Baboo’s most bosom bedtime buddy bear — was in corner of the crib, as far away as he could possibly be from my slightly agitated baby.
I’ve seen my son reach for Ned, and snuggle him, and halfway bite his nose off in glee, so I’m not exaggerating in the previous paragraph. Ned is the closest thing the baby has to a friend, and he provides comfort all night.
So I crept in, put Ned in my baby’s arms, and went back to bed. Overkill? Perhaps. But babyhood is fleeting, and Baboo settled down for four more hours of happy sleep. And it just wasn’t right, those two being so far apart.
Posted in Daily Life, Growth & Development, Milestones, Ugh on November 9, 2012| Leave a Comment »
If anything is going to stand in the way of me being the best parent I can be, it’s that I’m a Virgo. Granted, there are advantages to this sign: Attention to detail, very logical, excellent at creating order from chaos, yadda-yadda. But the flip side of liking order and a certain level of cleanliness in the kitchen means I live in fear of teaching the baby to feed himself. Embarrassing, but true.
I’ve been letting him play with the spoon, and putting bits of food on it to reward him for getting the right end in his mouth. And I sit there cringing every single time, damp rag clutched in one hand, the other hand poised to shield my face from flying sweet potato. Imagine the state I’ll be in once I let him really go at it.
It’s kind of sad, actually. This should be a fun time, a happy time. But how to achieve that?
Maybe I should drape the kitchen in old sheets for a few months. Or hire a professional cleaning crew after he gets really good at it. Or just redo the kitchen.
Ah. See? Virgos really are logical!
Posted in Daily Life, Happiness on November 5, 2012| Leave a Comment »
When you have a baby, or are pregnant, or talking about having a baby or trying to get pregnant, people will give you advice. It just happens. Some is awful, and some is awesome, and generally, it’s best to just smile and nod. (If you are about to have a baby or thinking about getting knocked up, I advise that you start practicing the smile-and-nod now.)
Here’s some of the best advice I’ve received so far:
– Trust your instincts.
– Go with the flow.
– Get the bottle warmer.
– If he needs you, you will hear him.
– Don’t read too many books.
– Enjoy.
Here’s what I would tell someone who was about to become a parent (if in fact I told them anything at all — I am The Quiet One):
– Trust your instincts.
– Much of early parenting is trial and error. Don’t get hung up on the errors.
– Seriously? Do not get the wipe warmer.
– Everything is temporary.
– Try to remember that your partner is probably just as freaked out as you are.
– Everything is washable. If it’s not, put it away.
– Turn the monitor volume to the lowest setting at night.
– You might be scared by how much you love your baby. It’s okay. That’s just biology at work.
– Enjoy. And if you can’t, please talk to someone about that.
And hey, if I ever say some of this to you and you give me the old smile-and-nod, I’ll understand.
Posted in Daily Life, Growth & Development on November 2, 2012| 2 Comments »
Socks: Not just for feet anymore.
About a month ago I wrote about how hilarious it was that the baby was going on little voyages of discovery during diaper changes. Since then, he’s gradually increased the frequency, and now he’s doing it at every diaper change. He’ll grab, I’ll wipe his hand off, he’ll complain at me about that, and then immediately make another grab. Repeat, repeat, repeat.
It’s still adorable and funny, but it became problematic because he got faster. Also: A&D is hard to wipe out of all the bitty little crevices of a baby’s hand while holding the diaper closed to prevent spritzing. Furthermore: He uses his left hand to eat Cheerios (primarily), but The Grab has always been executed with the right. Which is also his preferred thumb-sucking hand. And finally (hope you’re not eating): Poop sometimes travels North.
The other night, after I put the wee one to bed following a full day of (fun but tiring) baby care, I decided I had to do something. As I was falling asleep, I came up with a plan I felt would work.
Friends, I have foiled the little man’s fiendish grabbing with a sock. (Don’t be weird, I put it over his right hand!) And now he explores that (little nubby rubber bits, wow!) instead of his nether regions, and he doesn’t crab about it. He actually seems to think it’s cool. And he can’t drop it. I haven’t felt so smug in weeks.
And if he starts using his left hand to go South? Socks on both hands.
Posted in Daily Life, Happiness on November 2, 2012| Leave a Comment »
One day last week, my husband decided to play some music for the baby. People who know me well will be appalled that it took so long. (And if you don’t know me well: I majored in opera, as in singing it; I’m a songwriter; and I’ve been in half a dozen bands. Also, I wrote that last sentence just so I could bust out some semicolons.)
In my defense, two things: 1.) I sing to that baby constantly; and 2.) I’ve been busy writing this blog keeping the house spotless spending quality time with my child.
Anyway. Lately our routine has been this: After the baby’s done with his dinner, Mowgli (not his real name) holds Baboo (not his real name) while the stereo blasts Queensryche. Kidding! Motörhead.
So far, the clear favorite is Dave Brubeck. He’s okay with Mozart and the Beatles (he perked up for the opening bars of “I Feel Fine”), but he doesn’t jiggle his entire body with glee the way he does during the opening bars of Take Five. (Of course, that may have something to do with Daddy’s bare feet slapping the hardwood, something the baby now curls himself downward to look for during every listening session.)
We’ll continue to expose him to other genres and bands. Personally, I’m hoping he loves Cibo Matto.
Posted in Cross-Cultural, Daily Life on November 1, 2012| Leave a Comment »
When Baby Baboo (not his real name) was just a few weeks old, our pediatrician called it: “People are going to think he’s adopted.”
Don’t be mad at him. He wasn’t making any sort of commentary on us (I am about as pale as they come; my husband is from India.). He was trying to warn us, in his inimitably humorous and direct way. He was taking care of us along with our child.
And he was right. The first time it happened, the baby was 14 weeks old.
“Where did you get him?”
Yesterday, in the grocery store, it happened twice in the space of 15 minutes.
“Are you related to him?”
“Is he yours?”
Generally, I feel that the people who say these things are simply not fully in charge of their mouths. They see a gorgeous baby, they see a mom who doesn’t “match,” and they scramble for phrasing that’s not rude but will get them the answer they want. People are curious, and I’m cool with that.
For the record, nobody has been malicious, and the woman who asked where I got him was actually being sensitive. She is not only very sweet, but adopted two kids from Guatemala. And to her credit, she felt horrible when I replied that he came from me and my husband, who is from India. (But my God, I was dying to say I’d ordered him off the Internet.)
I’ve been able to keep my sense of humor about these occasions so far, and there have been some really lovely moments, too. During last week’s grocery run, a woman of Middle Eastern descent doubled back to comment on the baby’s “wonderful olive complexion,” and said it reminded her of her brother’s when he was little. She never queried me about my relationship to him. Instead we chatted about her heritage, and later I thought, “Huh. Maybe that’s what it would be like to live in a post-racial society.”
Posted in Daily Life, Happiness, Milestones, Uncategorized on October 27, 2012| 1 Comment »
For a few days, I’d been clapping along to the (short, slightly annoying, electronic) songs issuing from the musical table. Then I’d clap and say “yay!” when the song ended. Baby Baboo (not his real name) would look at me and flap his arms in excitement. He loves that table and all the noises that come out of it.
Yesterday afternoon, around three, he was playing at the table by himself while I was cooking. He seemed to be banging his hands together whenever a song ended.
Hoy crap, I thought, I think he’s clapping. I started pausing my work to clap along with him whenever he clapped. He clapped with me, over and over, and got better at it as he kept doing it.
I almost cried. I’m completely serious.
A few hours later, when I was feeding him, he started clapping after every bite. Which was of course adorable unless I didn’t get the yogurt spoon out of the way fast enough, and then it was adorable and messy.
Maybe I shouldn’t have started saying, “Y for yogurt! Y for yummy!” Y for yay!” after every spoonful of yogurt…
My journey to becoming a dietitian and other cool stuff
Living The Road Less Travelled
Mama-Come-Lately 