That bitty little white thing used to fit my baby. The red one fits him now.
I kinda wish the big one had hand-hiders, though, because his favorite new game is Grab-Neck.
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We ordered a two-pack of pacifier tethers back when the baby was itty-bitty. He kicked the binky habit at around six months, but we still use them to secure small toys to his bib or shirt. I may buy them for every expectant mother I know from now on, because they’re the kind of thing you need but serially forget to pick up. (Or at least, that was true for me.)
We have the Booginhead brand; you can pick some up here.
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Tomorrow I’ll be busy making turkey and stuffing and hanging out with my family, so you’re getting my thankfulness post today. (Though I’m generally pretty thankful.)
Obviously, I’m grateful for a healthy baby and a good man to raise him with. For a roof over our heads and the means for me to stay home with our son. For family and friends. But here are a few other things that come to mind:
– The skill and care of the doctor and nurses who saw me through a dicey delivery.
– The glider in the nursery.
– Formula. Because my baby ended up needing it, I have come around to its various charms.
– Baby Tylenol
– Baby Advil
– Onesies. How did anyone ever get by without them?
Happy Thanksgiving, y’all.
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Last Saturday I went to the podiatrist and the optometrist, because that’s what I do for fun on weekends now.
At the first appointment, the doctor held my left orthotic up to my left foot and said, “Whoa.” When he repeated the exercise on the right he said, “This one’s even worse!” Yes, orthotics. Now you know why you’ll almost always see me in sexy shoes like this:
Anyway, “Whoa” is never what you want to hear from a medical professional. It means that you and your dignity, and possibly your money, are soon to be parted. In this case it meant that the devices that keep my arches supported so my feet don’t hurt all the time are falling almost a full inch short. Which explains why my feet and knees are a mess right now. Thanks, hormones! And thanks, too, weight gain!
Okay. I’ll take the blame for some of the weight gain. I indulged my weakness for fried chicken while I was pregnant. But the baby gets full credit for the hormones.
At the second appointment, I learned that my eyes have not only weakened, but I now need correction for reading. I’m going to try contacts (one for distance, one for reading, and your eyes supposedly adjust between the two) but in all likelihood I’ll end up ordering my first pair of bifocals.
Bifocals. Orthotics. I might officially be an old fart now. Good thing I have the baby to chase around, or I might consign myself to my rocking chair.
Posted in Daily Life, Kvetchitude | 2 Comments »
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.
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The baby has now been on the planet for about as long as I carried him in my body. He is a wiggly, bouncy, crawly delight with five teeth and a giggle that gets me where I live. His coos are balm for my soul, and I cannot imagine anything sweeter than snuggling his neck first thing in the morning.
Hm. The clichés don’t do it justice. But if I think about how amazing it was to be in Paris with my husband, going up in the monuments at night and strolling the streets while eating pastries in the morning, and concentrate that and multiply it by a googleplex, that’s pretty close to how this baby makes me feel.
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Yesterday, after weeks of scooching around with one leg in front, rocking on his hands and knees but going back to sitting up, and generally not being all that motivated, the baby started crawling. With a vengeance, if that’s possible.
As with the clapping, he busted out this new skill while I was in the kitchen, paying just enough attention to make sure he wasn’t going to bash his head on the floor. A favored toy had rolled away, and nothing else was within easy reach. He sat there for a moment, looking from toy to toy. He looked at me. I said “Hi,” I think.
Then he took off on all fours, both legs behind him, cruised over to what he wanted, and sat down Iike it was no big deal. I cheered.
Today, of course, he is everywhere, going after everything. The heating vent, the door to the deck, that lovely but very pointy table in the photo above. When he went down for his first nap, I moved things and mopped and began mentally bracing myself for the beginning of a new era in which our primary goal is to keep him safe. While letting him explore. And only using the pack-n-play to contain him when it’s really necessary.
At times like this, when I feel fear and doubt taking over, I like to think of my friends who have triplets. And my cousin who has twins. Surely, if they made it through this, so will we.
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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, Kvetchitude | 3 Comments »
My husband is from Tamil Nadu and was raised in the Hindu tradition, so we observe a variety of holidays from that faith. This morning we celebrated Divali, a major festival that centers on banishing darkness and vanquishing evil. In India, it’s celebrated by pretty much the entire country, across many faiths, and the markets often get a boost from it. This is an excellent summary.
Our observance is relatively simple: We prepare the altar with offerings of fruit, raisins, almonds, sweetened milk with cardamom in it, new clothes, and images of gods and goddesses. We light an oil lamp (most families light a huge number of clay lamps), pray, and go outside to light sparklers. Then we shower, put on the new clothes, light a tablet of camphor and a stick of incense, pray again, drink the milk and eat the raisins and almonds, and go outside again to light more sparklers. At some point we anoint our heads with oil — I think just before the first round of sparklers — but I can’t recall precisely.
The baby will be nine months old this week, so accomplishing all of this around his morning schedule was tricky, and by the end of it he was overtired. It didn’t help that I didn’t realize the top of his Divali outfit (pictured above; a gift from his Indian grandma) didn’t open until I went to put it on him. A few cries of protest were uttered as I worked it over his head and maneuvered his arms through the holes (the fabric, though gorgeous, has no give to it).
But I’m confident he’ll remember the flames and the sparklers more than the wardrobe wrestling match. He’s always been attentive during rituals, and is of course entranced by fire — add sparks, and you have a very happy baby. I know I’ll always remember the rapt look on his face when I think of this day.
And next year, I’ll check the outfit before the big day arrives.
Posted in Cross-Cultural, Happiness | 2 Comments »
Cue the circus music.
For the record: I love these.
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Mama-Come-Lately 