Courtney Loves Jonathan

FairyLand

2012-02-04T21:23:00.000-08:00

Near our house, there's an amusement park....I guess it would be called an amusement park? Its like a very low-key vintage time-capsule called FairyLand. Its been around for a loooong time (Jonathan said he kinda remembered a few things...although he claimed they were much bigger than they appear today. Maybe global warming is shrinking FairyLand.)

The story has it that Walt Disney visited this park and was inspired to create DisneyLand. I dunno if that's the case, but this park is a huge draw for the under 4 year old set. As you can see above, Aiden was entranced by, well, the entrance. This is a 30 second clip, but we stood there, dancing to the theme song in English and in Spanish for about 25 minutes. The boy really loves to show off his moves (limited to what you see in the above clip).

Below, we take a spin with the mad-hatter.

Oh, sure! Now you tell me.

2012-01-25T20:48:00.000-08:00

Seconds after my last post went live, my phone rang.

It was my sister.

"Hello?"

"Sneak up on them. You gotta sneak up from behind. You're done wiping their face before they can protest."

Thank you. That's genius.

Snot nosed.

2012-01-22T11:09:00.000-08:00

Before I had a baby, I was always kind of aghast when I saw a little kid that really needed a nose blow. It just seemed so hillbilly (no offense, hillbilly people) to let your kid run around with a dirty face. I mean, in my childless mind there was no surer sign of neglect than a baby with a dirty face. You can plainly see how neglected the child is just by looking at their tiny filthy face.

What kind of mother would witness some banana or snot or dirt or fuzz hanging off her kid's nose and just ignore it? What kind of self-absorbed monster? Are you just that careless? Are you blind? Do you really not give a damn? Because how hard it is to wipe down your baby's face?

Yes, just how hard could it be?

Cut to 2012, when I start to find out exactly how hard it is.

I have a warm, flannel cloth in my hands. This cloth was sewn by hand by his very own grandmother. It is a custom fabric selected by me with little construction workers on it. We call them "Man-Wipes" at my house. It is soaked in water that is almost exactly matched to a human's very own body temperature. Sometimes I put a few molecules of organic pleasantly scented soap on this cloth. Only the most luxurious spa could match such a service.

But my son had already started shaking he head violently and shouting "No! No! No! Nooooooo!" His hands are extended out and flailing.

I try a horse-whisper technique of talking in low tones. "Hey little one, come to mama, let me wipe your face, sweet pea." I move slowly with an energy that is detached to outcome and as pleasant as I can muster.

Aiden starts to stomp and back away. "No" becomes a howl with increasing volume.

I try my best patient smile but I keep my eyes on the prize. I'm going to restore that baby-face to pristine gorgeousness. What kind of person would I be otherwise?

After taking one step, he whirls and takes off the other direction.

Here's the thing they don't tell you in any baby books, people. A toddler has nothing to lose. A toddler doesn't really have much going on in his schedule, so he's pretty freed up to throw everything he's got into a fight. All emotional, physical, spiritual, vocal effort can be put into this battle. And, I know toddlers look like they're made of rolls of baby fat and chub but that's actually deceptive because they are freakishly strong. They seem to enjoy any physical challenge that allows them to use these new found bodies. You really, really, really don't want to get into a fight with a toddler because it takes an uncomfortable amount of force to win....and you don't ever really win.

So, I implement a few more techniques cobbled together from the movie Buck (its a good movie, people) and the dog whisperer. Clear intention. Focus. Move confidently without fear, although I'm starting to get nervous because I don't want this to escalate.

Aiden can smell fear. He's tearing around the house screeching. My husband starts coaching me, "I never have a problem. You're trying to wipe too much. Just get the dirty spot."

No comment.

Finally, I corner Aiden and he collapses into a heap. Every muscle completely limp. Head shaking. Face plastered into the hardwood floor, rubbing snot everywhere. Back arches then collapses into screams of defiance. This kid may have learned his moves from Maori Warriors. This is going to be a battle and he is committed. His afternoon is wide open.

I reach out and get slap-kicked as his little body reacts like my hand is actually fire.

The cloth is now cold.

My husband continues to give his opinion from the couch.
And I think of a second use for this cloth.

Ahh, then the Mom-thoughts flash through my head...that collective-unconscious funded by all mothers and grandmothers and mothers before that. Built over generations and based squarely in "What will the neighbors think?" instead of any genuine mothering knowing (which we all also have). The Mom-thoughts chide:

Are you going to let him look like he was raised by wolves? Well, let him win this time and you'll never be able to wipe his face. This is just one more step closer to having SuperNanny to come shame you and your family on national TV. The house is going to get that gross smell caused by meals being wiped on every surface as little hands and faces use the nearest upholstered item to clean themselves. You're failing as a mother in front of your son and your husband. I bet other people don't have these problems. This is only a symptom of things to come. You're going to have a filthy troglodyte with no social or grooming skills and everyone will know it was because he was raised by a bad mom.

No wonder moms are exhausted.
Aiden looks up. Through the struggle most of the crap has come off his face. I pick off one brown something that's still hanging. He gives a squeek and a final swat at the Man-Wipe. We all move on.

Winter Movies

2012-01-18T09:21:00.000-08:00

I've been watching some good movies. I'm a documentary kind of gal 'cause I like to watch the wide, wide range of human experience. For example:

Surf Wise: Standford doctor and his family of 9 lives in a camper and drive nomadically from beach to beach surfing and watching sunsets. Idyllic or....?

Bill Cunningham New York: ever wonder who takes those pics in the NY Times of fancy events and puts together On the Street page?

Buck: The actual horse whisperer who coached Robert Redford.

Never Say Never, Justin Bieber: Okay, okay, okay....don't judge me. Just watch it. Even Jonathan got sucked in.

Wasteland: what happens when an artist goes to the worlds largest landfill and works with the people that live there to make art?

Exit at the Gift Shop: Graffiti is one of my secret interests...who ARE these people?

Sweetgrass: Kinda mesmerizing. Probably best on a BIG TV.

Get lots of popcorn and a cozy blanket.

Butternut squash ravioli, deconstructed.

2012-01-07T16:00:00.000-08:00

I know you're looking for a really unique dish to make for your next special occasion. Let me share one with you. Handcrafted butternut squash ravioli. Very special treat we made this New Year's Eve.

First, make about 6 cups of butternut squash ravioli filling - you're going to love this stuff and you'll make a bunch of ravioli to freeze which you can enjoy year-round. Make sure there's a BIG bowl of the filling. Really go for it!

Then, get out your ravioli maker - make sure you haven't tested it before the special day. Just grab it with the confidence of Chef Boy-R-Dee and bust out some pasta dough. Crank some Rat Pack music on Pandora. Feel Italian. Sing That's Amore with gusto.

Now, here comes the tricky part...making the ravioli.

Have at least two other adults helping. It helps if your cooking assistants have had some wine and have solid - and ideally conflicting - opinions about the crafting of handmade ravioli. Make sure no one has any real experience. Everyone should get a turn cranking the pasta maker. But once you've cranked out a few sheets of dough, boss your assistants with clear directions. After all, its your pasta maker. You got the damn thing for Christmas. That should make you the expert and master of the crank.

Once you have sheets of dough ready to make actual ravioli, carefully guide dough through the machine and using approximately a teaspoon of filling (total! no more needed!) into the raviolis. A lot of the filling will squeeze out uncontrollably and so that teaspoon dollop should really stretch for awhile. Discuss amongst your helpers about whether this process seems to be working. Make sure everyone sticks their fingers directly into the machine and gives a declaration of success or utter failure.

Take a wine break.

Drop the ravioli into a huge pot of boiling water - not long - but just long enough that the water turns orange with Butternut squash filling and the deflated empty ravioli swirls limply and aimlessly.

Repeat.

Now you're ready for a delicious dinner.
Fish out the remnants of pasta. Serve with a side of butternut squash ravioli filling.
After serving guests, you should still have about 5 - 3/4 cups of filling left in the bowl.

Enjoy.
Deconstructed Butternut Squash Ravioli

Now, that's Italian!

Pasta maker lurking in the background looking innocent.

The help.

Lights come down. Let's stare at them awhile.

2012-01-06T22:48:00.000-08:00

Christmas ends as we take down our tree and celebrate with our annual tradition of Staring Into Christmas Lights, second year running. (this year, the next photo taken was Aiden eating the Christmas lights. Who can blame him? They just look so delicious.)

2012 - World Ends, I Share My Apple Crumble Recipe

2012-01-04T18:00:00.000-08:00

So, its 2012. The Mayan calendar is ending this year. I gotta share more than the latest pics of my family. After all, if we're all going to be toast, at least you guys should enjoy some of my fabulous recipes, right? My life hacks? My vacation planning tips? My crafty suggestions about how to best mail a carefully selected gift card that will be arriving late and only brutally emphasizes how little you actually planned things out before recipients' special event?
I've got mad skills that need to be shared. My music has to be played!
And who knows, Aiden could hit the awkward-looking gangly years at any moment so I've gotta get some backup content moving through here.
I promise that 1 out of every 20 posts will have some new subject matter beyond the other two people that live in my house.
Not that you've asked for this, but because your lives will be richer for it.
I'll start by taking questions.

Targeted

2012-01-03T05:30:00.000-08:00

Today was my last day of vacation. We've been sleeping in for the last week and even Baby-boo has been cooperating (most days). So, this morning I was kinda surprised when I woke up to the sound of someone coming in our front door. It was our nanny. She thought today was the first day back at our ol' routine. (It is Monday after all.)
So, did I thank her and send her on her way?
Did I shout a cheery "Hello, but you can go home now!" downstairs?
Did I say, "Catch you tomorrow! Today's still vacation!"?
No. Hell, no. Never send a babysitter away.
I jumped in the shower. I was dressed in 10 minutes and I was out the door in 15. Headed to Target, people.
Why? Because for moms, Target is the perfect mix of a place to be practical and get stuff you need and maybe find something awesome you didn't exactly need but sure is cute.
I need plastic plates for Aiden. Dinnertime looks like a Greek party around here. He's become a bit of a dish thrower to indicate that he is full and satiated. I know, I know, what kind of parent just lets their child break dishes like some kind of uncivilized maniac? Well, he's fast. And we had been optimistic that we'd be able to get faster and see the plate drop coming. We failed in that regard. So, bring on the plastic.
But, of course, Target also has about 5 billion other SKUs to look at, ponder, try on, compare and buy. And it's the cool-looking stuff, too. And the store is about 30 square acres. So, sometimes you just get lost. Literally. I don't take Aiden there anymore - maybe you remember the last time we went and he chewed a toy out of its package that he ended up being terrified by...but I had to buy.
I honestly wish Target started to charge a cover of, say, $200 since you aren't going to get outta there for anything less and it would be nice to warm to that fact early instead of looking surprised when the cashier gives you the final damage and offers you a Target Visa card. Brutal.
I know. Where's Miss Self-Sufficiency now? Where's my crafty "we can make do or do without" homestyle chicken-raising fruit-canning attitude? That part of me would be in the back forty chopping disks of tree-trunk to reuse as unbreakable plates. I mean, last week I invested $7 in over 100 pages of Independent Living. That investment was supposed to be a savings. But, let's face it. I'm complex. And the tree-trunk plate idea needs some work.
It was just that potent combination of child-free time, plus errands, plus caffeine, plus probably low blood sugar and some of that "Let's get a fresh start in 2012!" Which mostly involves buying stuff.
Honestly, I tried a lifeline. In the middle of my shopping binge, I did call my sister...but she was unavailable to talk me down.
So, out of sheer principal, I just took half the crap from my cart and dumped it on a shelf in "small appliances / cooking utensils". I still don't even know what that half consisted of but I think I saved myself something in the $150 range.

That was a year?

2012-01-02T20:27:00.000-08:00

January: Aiden feeds himself...gnawing directly on his plate.

February: The Vermont Green Mountain Boys visit us.

March: St. Patrick's Day in a bar with dad and J (just like every Thursday)

Easter!

Mother's Day Brunch

Happy Birthday, baby!

Aiden and Dimpa watch a stray cat. Keep your eyes open, boys, it scratches like hell.

Making a break for it.

Helping childproof the house.

Swimmin' with dad. Doesn't need a suit, just a lot of sunscreen and a hat.

Boo. Get this thing off my head.

Christmas! Be good for Chrissake!

Courtney loves Jonathan

Homesteader

2011-12-28T19:51:00.000-08:00

Does everyone have that post-holiday slight hangover feeling? Like maybe you just did too much? Just a little? Or maybe the general malaise of too much hype and holiday panic followed by quiet days with a lot of laundry piling up?

I was feeling that way. And somehow my antidote is always homesteading. I just can't pass up a good homesteading magazine. Seriously. So, at the grocery, I picked up a little piece of lifesaving instruction that could save us hundreds, even thousands a year. Mother Earth News.

I mean, the first sentence says it all..."little money and abundant happiness". How can you pass that up? I couldn't. Standing in line at the grocery with a full cart of food (And some treats. And some stuff that was on sale. And ingredients for an impulse pumpkin pie - which sounds easy to make) I was thinking, do I really need all this? (Yes. But the question is still worth asking).

That precious magazine promised the clean, natural, wholesome living carved from the earth with your own two hands. And I planned to dig into the pages and learn every trick of every trade. The darn thing is only about 100 pages long, but crammed into those pages were instructions on how to make a hoop house, a pole barn, natural medicines, raise chickens, pigs, get rid of rats, grow food economically, can things, dry things, create community in a small town...just about everything but give birth to your own children at home. (which, ironically, I have already done and honestly was much less effort and more appealing to me than some of this other stuff.)

I guess it was the article about the couple that hewed the stone from their own quarry and build a basement with it - with no outside help - while they lived in a 10 ft by 20 ft storage container (mortgage-free living!). I mean, that's really, really admirable, but probably not the way I'm really going to spend my Saturdays.

At about page 78, I had to have a talk with myself.

"Let's face some facts here, lady. You love fresh food from a garden as much as anyone. But last summer you planted five flowering plants on your front patio and they are now all dead. If you were supposed to eat those plants all winter, you'd be really really hungry by now. Its totally cool to look at this homestead porn and imagine yourself as some American Gothic portrait of self-sustainability, but remember, you can't grow coffee beans at this latitude. Or cocoa. You'd be screwed. And none of these articles are about how to get Thai food delivered to your farm. So give thanks for the bounty, pray we haven't reached peak oil and get that laundry started. In a luxurious washing machine. And be happy about it."

The whole DIY-thing is very addictive in some ways. And I love the creativity and satisfaction of making something on your own. Like, say, a sandwich. (which could be an egg-salad sandwich as soon as I get my chicken coop up)

PS - the last book I've recently finished (which caused my first rant and infected me with chicken fever) was Joel Salatin's Folks, This Ain't Normal. So good.

Stockings hung with care

2011-12-27T11:36:00.000-08:00

My arty photo of Christmas Eve. That bike appears much larger than it actually is.

Boy concentrating on tearing paper. He never really got the hang of "gift unwrapping" this year. I finally opened the few remaining gifts on the 26th.

Crabby

2011-12-27T11:21:00.000-08:00

I've been writing many blog posts in my head over the past few days - but I guess those don't auto-magically publish themselves. Maybe that's good...let this Christmas marinade a little.

I guess it starts the day before Christmas Eve, when Jonathan said he wanted me to open a present early. Have I written about this before? Jon has a freaky obsession with celebrating the holiday ON the holiday - not the day before, not the next weekend, but on the DAY. Okay, that makes sense for, say, Christmas....but when your birthday lands on a Tuesday, it kinda sucks. Anyway, he insisted I open a present early - as soon as the FedEx truck brought it. So, the day was spend halfheartedly talking about going to do something but really listening for any car, truck, scooter coming down the street.

Of course, I was generally obsessing about what kind of present would be important enough to open early? You know how your mind starts to have weird ideas and come to some strange conclusions with issues like these? Well, I was convinced we were getting a chicken coop delivered by FedEx. I mean, I had put chicken coop on my list and in my mind I thought he wanted to get it opened early to start to construct it or whatever. Or maybe chickens were coming via Santa or....I dunno! How does your brain start thinking this stuff?

Sure, sounds very unlikely now, but last week, I was waiting for my chicken coop and hoping he got free shipping on the damn thing.

Well, it wasn't a coop (and I wasn't disappointed)- it was a camera! So, hopefully photo quality will improve on the blog. So far, I've really come to appreciate good photographers because early results indicate that photography may not be where my talents lie.

As you can imagine, December 23 became a heavily documented and photographed day.

[Side note: sometimes when I upload videos or photos to the site, I search YouTube for the same video name...like img123mov. Of course, thousands of people upload videos without renaming them so you get a great slice of randomness. I'd do a post about it. Its more fun than it sounds here.]

Anywho.

Christmas Eve.
Crab dinner.
Champagne.
Roasted potatoes and thick french bread slices warm from the oven.
A poorly timed eBay auction that ended as we were sitting down to eat.
A teething baby that only wants to either rub a lemon in my hair or watch TV.
Father sniping eBay goods from iPhone.
Baby watching said TV...like only neglected sad babies to on Christmas Eve. Yet, he seems happy.

A mother at table alone.
Crab enjoyed.
Funny smelling crab enjoyed.
"Funny smelling crab" Googled on father's iPhone from the table
Results include words like "dirty tank" "dead" "excretions" "filter" "throw out". Not Merry.
Baby screeching at TV.
A mother wishing she were alone at table. Mother hates iPhones. Mother hates crabs.

In other words, a perfect Christmas Eve.

Santa coming to our house (or not?)

2011-12-19T21:32:00.000-08:00

I think these pictures tell the story....50% naughty, 50% nice.
I hope the angel on the top of our tree manages to survive.

2011-12-11T18:53:00.001-08:00

We did a project today - watercolor and stickers. Not such a great choice, but it did take up 17 minutes.

Spoiler Alert

2011-12-07T22:58:00.001-08:00

Christmas is getting real. Its like real-real right about now. On my way home tonight, I was getting worried that I hadn't done much to get ready. I feel like I haven't done much present shopping or celebration planning - not that we have anything glorious we're buying, or any complex plans to make but....I'm the mama and the only one who has celebrated Christmas more than two times in my life, so I'm pretty much leading this show.

I guess I must have realized that Christmas was getting REAL last weekend. Because tonight I came home to many, many, many boxes. (Thank you, sweet UPS drivers!! You do so much this time of year). You see, my memory never came back after the infant breast-feeding stage...it just went away forever. Relegated to Post-It notes. So, I often feel like I'm a time traveler in my own life -- leaving clues and pleasant (or unpleasant) surprises for my future. (I'm getting better at planting the good stuff that pops up later.)

However, I walk into the house and this is what i see (no, not a tree with ornaments no lower than 4 feet off the ground...that is purposeful.):

Yes, this is the "big present" for Aiden.
Like Santa-big.

I gasp in horror. The Christmas Surprise in ruins! Under the tree!

Jonathan looks at me sadly and says, "I know, it was like that when I got home."

Seriously?

And Aiden is in his little snowman jammies running back and forth between the tree and me....frantically signing "bike! bike! bike!"

Jonathan: "Don't worry about it. He's a baby. He doesn't know what it is."

Aiden [signing]: "BIKE! BIKE! BIKE!"

Me [thinking...wishing I spoke Laos...]: "Why did she put a Christmas present under the tree??"

Jonathan: "Oh, come on! He doesn't know! He doesn't know what it is!"

Aiden [frantic signing]: " BIKE!!!!! BIKE!!!!! BIKE!!!!!!!"
(Hello! any kid in any county is going to see the picture of that ginormous jubilant kid on that box and know it is a glorious bike! Like, DUH! That is DESIGNED so kids know EXACTLY what it IS!)

Jonathan: "He won't remember. He's a baby!"

Aiden [signing]: "KEYS! KEYS!" and then looking in my purse for my car keys. Why? because he remembers shit. He remembers all kinds of shit that you'd think a baby would FORGET! He remembers where I put my keys, where I put his paci, where I hide the prunes (weird, but it's a treat at our house). He is like an unencumbered empty slate. Meanwhile, I'm getting boxes from UPS and feeling completely shocked by things I ordered three days earlier.

Sigh. Ergh. Grrr.

I know.

He's a baby and he doesn't know what Christmas is and he doesn't know this is a BIKE! BIKE! BIKE! for him....but it is still annoying to see the one present I remembered ordering sitting under the tree as if Santa came on December 7 while I was in a conference call.

I threw in the towel and put him to bed in Christmas pajamas. Why not?
Its now officially the three-weeks of Christmas here. Starting now.

PS Lulu, you may have noticed that your present is there, too, shrouded in an unmarked box. He will be shocked and surprised by the d-r-i-l-l . ;)

Santa?

2011-12-05T21:19:00.001-08:00

Should we do the Santa thing this year? Or no?

Card full

2011-12-05T20:47:00.001-08:00

Not many pictures up lately. Sorry about that.
Our digital camera card is full.

Yes, the little card that holds like 128 gigabits of information is full.
That damn thing could probably hold the original Star Wars trilogy and then some....but its completely packed with pictures of Mr. Boo.

That same little chip probably used to require rooms and rooms of computers circa 1979. Now its just overflowing with an abundance of blurry pictures of the deer, the neighborhood stray cat (who is pregnant by the way and constantly trying to hide in our garage....maybe Santa is bringing Aiden kittens!) and short clips of Aiden running away from the camera while we try to coax him to perform some smart-baby stunt. ("Come back, Aiden! Do your sign language! Remember your sign language for Occupy Oakland, We Are the 99 Percent, sweetie? Sign it for the camera!")

Speaking of language: Aiden is now learning Lao during the day. Soon he and Lil will be cracking up over shared Laotian knock-knock jokes while I stand to the side smiling awkwardly going, "What? what'd she say? What? What'd you say back? What?". Great. Just great. Tonight I came home and he was plucking ornaments off the Christmas tree (we have three ornaments that are hanging less than four feet from the ground. Our decorations are very top-heavy on the tree this year). Lil started speaking to him in a language that wasn't English or Spanish, so I was lost. He looked at Lil, picked up the ornament and walked towards the tree laughing and putting it on a branch. Really? Just joking around in my second language and having a good laugh, mom...I'll have to explain it to you later. So funny! I didn't expect him to listen....please, after all, he never listens to me. But, lo. Guess its time to learn some Lao.

Anyway, camera full. We must delete photos or buy a new card or something. Kinda strange to think of just buying a new card....instead of having a closet of beautiful photo albums packed with lovely printed photos, we'll have a teeny stack of data cards. "Here's your childhood! Enjoy! Don't know where the damn reader when, but maybe you can find something to read this media? Oops?"

And Aiden will think (in Lao) "The data cards are so large and unwieldy!"

Holiday homesteading

2011-12-04T15:29:00.001-08:00

About once a year, I get my hands on a book that touts the values of the countryside and the wholesome food from said countryside and enumerates the problems with industrial food, cheap oil, water shortages, plastic in landfill and the modern American mindset.

Sounds like a real downer, hu? I actually get really jazzed about this stuff. After Aiden was born, it became harder to just stuff the garbage can with plastic and junk knowing that it isn't "going away" but getting trucked to a big pile to sit there and seep into the water supply or whatever. I mean, I don't want him to grow up, look at me and say "Hey, thanks for trashing the planet. That was awesome." I would like to do things to make the place better. And let's face it, the bar is pretty low at this point.

Jonathan knows he's in trouble when I have my nose in a book for 4 days only lifting my face away from the page to say, "We should install a greywater system. Like immediately."

Or, "Oh, Jon? I'm going to buy a side of beef this weekend. You better eat whatever is in the freezer tonight."

Or, "Goats are the future. We could have a few goats here. Or better yet, let's become goat ranchers. What do you think? We'll make our own soap and we can make wool things." He reminds me that goats don't supply wool. Admittedly, sheep and goats share a card in my mental card-catalog. But the point is we'd live off the land. Crafty folk. Wholesome living. Being part of the solution. Independent. Like Little House on the Prairie...but still 20 minutes from an international airport.

Or, he sits patiently across from me on our date night listening to me rant about peak oil and how people should flush their toilets less. Fun date, huh?

But Jonathan is also the guy who can do some of these things. So, you gotta be careful about what you rant about (Urban Ore has alllll kinds of stuff, you know).
Who knows? Maybe Santa will bring us chickens.

Decking the halls

2011-12-04T15:26:00.001-08:00

Thrilled.

Nice birdie.

2011-11-13T10:55:00.001-08:00

This morning I had a great idea. We were going to go to the lake and feed the ducks!
Aiden is learning animal noises and he loves ducks and birds.

A few months ago, we were at the lake in an area that's a kind of bird sanctuary (sanctuary is probably creating a visual of something much nicer than what this actually is...basically, its a fenced off area with a small pool and some dead trees where people throw food at birds.) Aiden and I were looking at the birds, when a couple came up and started throwing some crumbs and what seemed to be old noodles over the fence. They had a big black garbage back full of old noodles -- and the lady wasn't shy about grabbing big handfuls of the stuff and flinging it. The birds started to gather, and she saw that Aiden was wide eyed.

I'm not sure if we were just in her way, or if she was trying to be nice and get more birds to come near us, but she walked over and started her noodle flinging right over our heads. Which might have been okay if she had more of a pitching arm.

If you've ever been in the city, near a stagnant pool of water, surrounded by dead trees and quickly being overcome by birds that are gorging on old noodles out of a garbage bag....then you probably know that this is one time you really want to take a shower and you're really happy you've vaccinated your baby. Nothing is quite as creepy as dirty bird smell mixed with stale ramen.

So, you may ask....why return to that circle of hell just because your kid likes to quack?

Why not feed clean ducks somewhere more clean?

Well, in clean areas, there are always signs that say "DON'T FEED THE DUCKS" --- and in those areas, people follow the rules and shame you for throwing a Cheerio at a bird.

But at this lake, rules aren't posted. So, I grabbed the last of a loaf of bread and packed up the Boy for some duck feeding. My plan was to find a clean area with a few ducks we could visit.

We got to the lake, and I saw an elderly couple sitting on benches throwing bread to pigeons. There were maybe 15 - 20 pigeons. It was still early in the morning, so no one was around. Aiden was freaking out and running towards them! BIRDS!

As we got closer, I said "Good morning! Looks like you've attracted a few friends" to the couple. They looked at me, completely stonefaced. No response. I don't think English was their native language. Or maybe they were deaf. Or maybe both. Or maybe they are tired of the huge overly friendly smiles of parents and tiny brats who come mess with their birds. I don't know.

So, we sat down respectfully on a bench a few feet away. And the woman held out a piece of bread to us and shook it, "Baby!" She commanded. "Baby!"

I thanked her and took the bread (yes, I had my own bread tucked in our diaper bag, but her tone indicated that refusing this bread might create more vigorous commanding and since we already had a bit of a language barrier, and we definitely seemed to be on her bird-turf, I just took the damn thing.)

I broke off a little crumb and tossed it. A bird caught it in his mouth and Aiden was delighted!
Second piece tossed attracted a few more birds (like...10 more)....who squabbled and cooed. Aiden squacked along and stomped gleefully! BIRDS! HOORAY!

Then, suddenly, I swear to god...maybe 40 more birds flocked towards us. Wow! Where'd they come from?...and then another 50 on top of those. Quite a few birds. My goodness!

...And another 20 for good measure all piled, on top of each other, fighting and screeching for food. Then, another 20 or so swooped in....until we were surrounded by birds in all directions, two layers deep in some spots. All wings and claws and beaks. Joggers running by had to wade through birds, shuffling their feet so they wouldn't step on any feathered friends.

This was a little more than I bargained for.
Aiden backed up and stood between my knees, pressing against me. I tossed bread a little further and tried to stay calm, "Look! Birds! They are so hungry! See the birds!" The birds pecked each other mercilessly and screeched, diving for crumbs.

Then, birds landed on Aiden and me -- their sharp beaks trying to get the bread we were holding.

In that moment, I was trying to picture St. Francis of Assisi...communing with nature and welcoming all creatures (see Figure 1).

But honestly, I was FREAKING OUT. Surrounded by filthy BIRDS! (see Figure 2).

Figure 1: Friends with birds and a corgi...and raccoon in the background (!?).
Can't we all just get along?

Figure 2: GERMS!

Aiden froze. I screamed.

Birds....hundreds of birds...took flight at once. Their wings beating and stirring up bread crumbs, dust and bird-smell.

I screamed again for good measure.

The old people laughed. And laughed.
The woman held out another piece of bread, "Baby!"

We were outta there just as a older woman speed-walked by and barked, "Don't feed the birds! Its not good for them!"

Word of the year

2011-11-06T09:55:00.000-08:00

A few years ago, one of my favorite bloggers wrote about picking a "word of the year" for herself. Something that would capture what her year was about or where she wanted to focus.

I immediately thought, "that's dumb...how could you just pick one....STRETCH!" Mid-sentence, my own word popped into my head. This was the year I was preggo and there was no better word to capture my life at that time. Stretch....reaching beyond what you think you can do so that you can go a little further.

This year, FLEXIBLE voiced itself as chosen word. Flexible mean letting go of what used to be to go with whatever shows up. Having a new baby definitely required being flexible.

And next year? TRANSFORMATION is throwing its hat into the ring.

Looking around my house, I see how much has transformed, gathered, collected and stacked. Some areas in a thoughtful way. But most areas its not thoughtful but a "I'll just put this here for now"....a decision that stands 6 months later.

Things are moving very quickly here, and stepping into transformation, allowing changes, being ready for the next thing is going to be helpful.

Aiden doesn't really drink bottles anymore...but we still do our old routine of making a bottle and filling a thermos with hot water for night time snacking. He outgrows toys, clothes, even types of food faster than we've modified.

And its not just him, TRANSFORM is for me, too. Seeing him adapt and change so effortlessly makes me wonder what areas I'm ready to transform around? (I have some ideas. Okay, many ideas. I'm just not ready to blog about the 90 different projects that popped up.)

Surprising thing about being a mom

2011-11-06T08:58:00.000-08:00

I'm surprised by how many times I get poked in the eye. Before Aiden, I had gotten jabbed in the eye maybe twice?
Now? I should be wearing safety goggles.

Boo. And grrrr.

2011-10-30T17:40:00.000-07:00

So this was Halloween weekend and after a lot of debate, we decided to go Lion. You can't go wrong with lion. Cute and fuzzy, but has a great "Roawwrrr" that's scary without being too scary.

We headed down to a Halloween parade - which was swarmed (I mean swarmed) with about a thousand of the under-4 crowd. With parents. And grandparents. And dogs. Aiden was definitely lukewarm about the situation at first. Not pleased about the costume. Not pleased about wearing a fuzzy, insulated hood in 75 degree sunshine. Not pleased about the crowd. Or the bagpipes leading the crowd (seriously). Although we're kinda doing away with the pacifier, Paci was allowed at this gig until things got rolling.

Jonathan was a lion tamer. I was a gypsy (now I know why gypsy is such a popular costume...its an easy one to pull together with all your bracelets, a wrap and some heavy eye makeup). And I was really hoping Aiden would have fun....but it wasn't looking good.

Until.....

We saw a huge guy dressed as a spider with a mini bubble machine.

Did someone say bubbles? Yes....bubbles! Waaaahooooo!!!

Well, that's all it took. Aiden kinda monopolized the bubbles once three battling Harry Potters got out of his way. We watched bubbles for about 30 minutes until the guy packed it up and left.

But after the bubble warm up, Aiden started running the streets of Oakland. Literally.

He was just going beserk in his strange stomp-run -- and god help anyone in his path. Of course, 99% of the things in his path were much, much, much larger than him...or had some fierce teeth and dog-breath but he didn't seem to mind much. He'd just ram them, then look up from his lion-hood like, "DUDE!", then pivot 30 degrees and keep going. With a lion tamer and gypsy chasing behind.

We were there for, I dunno, 4 hours? 5 hours? Oh. No. I guess 80 minutes. It just felt like 5 hours. Finally we had to take refuge in a taqueria. I needed some chips.

Aiden wasn't pleased. He had to get back to the street. Back to his people. The bees, the pirates, the ladybugs and princesses...there was just too much to see to sit around eating a stinking taco and sipping a lukewarm horchata.

His costume was now a natural part of him....his true skin. His spirit animal. The fierce and roaming lion. Gracefully stomp-running into all things in his path. Sweaty? He wasn't sweaty. Lions don't sweat, friend. That's lion-steam coming off his mane. Tired? Are you kidding? Lions don't tire easily friends. Not after they've tasted the sweet blood of a Snickers bar. Not in streets are flooded with highly processed snacks. Oh, and a lone dentist hawking toothbrushes. There's one in every Halloween crowd. A dentist trying to ruin the fun with floss and trident gum. Hey dude, keep your toothbrush. I've only got 6 teeth and besides that, I'm a lion. We don't brush. We don't floss. We simply terrorize our way out of a taqueria with our roars and jungle banshee screams.

The city is a jungle. And he is king.

Until naptime at least.

Okay, exactly what is going on here?

Really? Seriously? You have to be kidding me with this crap.

Okay, no one said there'd be bubbles. This could work out. (Circus Family pic: Lion Tamer, Lion and Gypsy.)

Lions really like bubbles.

How much longer in this monkey suit?


Why, hello.

Turtle hitchhiker

2011-10-30T10:02:00.000-07:00

Someone got a sandbox! Jonathan found the classic Turtle Sandbox at Urban Ore....I only wish I would have seen him driving down the highway. :)

Troll 'do

2011-10-23T21:27:00.000-07:00

This past Saturday I had an appointment to get my hair cut.

Exhibit A.

I'll admit it. Haircuts are something I don't skimp on....I'm not saying that SuperCuts isn't a fantastic deal, but I've written extensively about my special hair on these blog pages before. Its kind of like that fuzzy troll hair...with random bald spots. Seriously. (Exhibit A)

So, this weekend, I went to see my trusted hair advisor.
I had a rough couple days, and a sleepless Friday night, so things were still a little rocky by the time I was at my noon appointment.

My hairdresser is super cute, super friendly, and super duper full of super fun hair ideas. Saturday was no different. By the time she got wind of the idea that I might be open to a new 'do, she was off and running. "Pixie! How about a pixie cut?"

Insane. Yes, the pixie is super cute on someone as young and pencil thin as said creature.
She assured me that her idea was actually longer than a pixie cut...in certain spots...and would be awesome. (see Exhibit A)

As a woman, when I am tired and feeling somewhat defeated, I like to feel I can control something in my life. I want to feel that I am still at the helm of this grand adventure, mindfully charting a course of fun and deep meaning...not slogging through someone else's idea of midlife while battling late parenthood and Bay Area prices.

Exhibit B. New 'do.

I like to feel like I still can say "What the hell?! Why not?!"
Instead of: "What the hell (would I do something idiotic like that for)? Why not (sleep instead)!?"

So, in the chair, with my fun, fun, super-fun hairdresser who always tells me which movies are good and which restaurants are good...I decided to go for it!

"What the hell (I don't have much hair anyway)? Why not (save time in the styling process. Think of the sleep I might snag)?"

It did turn out pretty cute. (See Exhibit B. See my smile?)
And I do like it.
And I do get to use some goo that makes my clean hair look dirty and carefree.

Big Day.

2011-10-23T20:59:00.000-07:00

On the days I'm with Aiden, we go to the grocery store. Maybe we go to the park. Maybe....just maybe we meet a friend for coffee.

This is what Papa takes Aiden to do.
I personally appreciate the very matter-of-fact tone in the "duhn. uhn. uhn. du."
Like, "okay, people, we should all be on the same page here."

One Year Ago?

2011-10-11T18:39:00.000-07:00

I can't believe it. These pictures were taken about a year ago...and last weekend.

Treehouse Weekend

2011-10-02T20:32:00.000-07:00

We celebrated our fourth wedding anniversary this past weekend in a treehouse in Santa Cruz. It was a pretty cool joint with three redwood trees holding it up (and growing through the middle of the house) and a hot tub up the hill - it even came with a gray cat who ran the place (really). It was so simple and so sweet. There was even a little box of homegrown tomatoes, zucchini and garlic waiting by the front door.

On the first day, we dropped Aiden off with his cousins for an "Aiden Slumber Party". Our first night apart from him. We figured he was in great hands and we were only 20 minutes away. Both his aunt and uncle have advanced degrees and three healthy, sweet kids of their own....his aunt is even medical doctor, an even-keeled, thoughtful compassionate vegetarian person who loves all babies, children and animals. And nature in general. And I guessed there might even be a third adult there - a lovely, keenly intelligent cultural woman (and former professional nanny and honorary Auntie) with a genuine knack for being with all people (and especially children, obviously).

In fact, he may be in better hands over there than at home with Jon and I who sometimes allow him to stand on the seat of his "motorcycle" and dance. With pointy-keys in his hands. (It was really cute. Not my brightest parenting moment, but I was trying to get a picture. And I'm making a point).

Anyway....we were at peace knowing he was with good kinfolk.

The treehouse was kinda off the beaten path, so we got some takeout dinner and wine and spent the first evening enjoying the trees, the hot tub, and each other. The next day, we stayed right around the treehouse, reading, soaking in the silence and the sunlight that gently filtered through the giant redwood trees. The cat napped on Jonathan's chest. I read about three novels. We got in the hot tub. The peacefulness was unbroken and deeply relaxing. We drank tea. We smiled. We talked and caught up on (what felt like) a years worth of conversation. Just that deep, sweet luxury of having nothing to do, nowhere to go, no one's diaper to change.

Which was a good thing.

Because night two was...different.

Night number two started with a Big Family Dinner with the cousins. These monthly dinners are always fun. Jonathan could hardly wait to get back to Aiden. "Do you think he'll be excited to see us?" he asked.

"Um. Maybe. You never know." I replied. I figured he may have had a great time and wanted to play longer with the kids, or he may have any kind of reaction? I actually didn't expect him to be super excited to see us...for reasons that are soon revealed.

Well, he was treated like a prince at his cousins' place. Electronic-keyboard-dance-contests, soccer in the yard, he even scored a bag of toys his cousins had outgrown.

But when he saw the likes of us floating back on the scene....well, he was damned pissed off.
After all, we left him the day before.

First he kept insisting on going out to the car...and for a 15 month old with no real spoken language skills, he made himself pretty clear with screaming, pointing, and making steering wheel motions. ("No, you aren't leaving me. I'll just be out here in the car. TAKE ME THERE NOW!")

We managed to distract him for a bit and eat a (delicious) hurried dinner but his fury wasn't easy to soothe. So, we finally bailed. After many grateful "thank yous" to our hosts, we packed him into the car and took off for the treehouse.

In about 3 minutes, he was out like a light.
And that was the most peaceful three minutes we'd have for the next 12 hours.

You see, we had left him.

And now we would pay.

Once at the treehouse, his teeny mouth yawning mouth suddenly switched gears and produced the loudest most hysterical screaming I've ever heard. Sobbing. Flailing. Hitting. A full-on baby freak out.

Jonathan and I tagged each other in and out of the Baby Tantrum Match. (DUDE! I need to do a hand-off! Can you take the hand-off?!? I need a major time out!!! I can't hold him much longer!)

It felt like hours had gone by.
It was 8:15 PM.
Jonathan suggested we pack up and go home.

(We didn't...but by 3:45 AM...after total freakout number two....I ended up with two tiny feet kicking my kidneys all night while one very solid, very heavy baby head crashed into Jonathan.)

It was one of those nights that my thinking went somewhat like this:

"Oh, god, let this night go by quickly. Please! Let's see, I might get a nap tomorrow or maybe I can go to bed early. I should drink a lot of water maybe that will help. Hydration would be good. We're meeting Bill Clinton at Applebee's later with Lady Gaga who only ordered a Bloody Mary and...wha? Holy crap. I think I just fell asleep. I was just dreaming. Wasn't I? Oh, please let me go back to having Bloody Marys with Lady Gaga and we should go to the grocery store for this week for soapnuts for the Pope's re-election party in Louisville. Oh, Goddamn! I was asleep again!"

It hurt.

By this morning we had learned our lesson. Each fueled by 3 large cups of Kona Coffee (We usually go decaf. One cup. So we were basically buzzed out of our minds), Jon and I bowed to our tiny but mighty Prince, and packed up and headed home at top speed. Lessons learned. Don't go on vacation without the baby.

Or don't go on vacation?

2011-09-28T09:30:00.000-07:00

Maybe you've heard about hair styling products that make clean hair look dirty? It goes something like this: you wash your hair, you condition your hair. Then, you dry it, THEN add something that makes it look dirty again.

Its true. These products are called "Hair Mud", or "Beach Mist" or "Cowboy Magic"* - I'm not making this up. It makes your style look effortless and youthful - like you just rolled off a surf board and into your office.

Now, I happen to have really fine hair....so, when you add any products like this, it just makes it kinda flattened and mushed. Unlike others who may have sexy tousled bed-head, I wake up looking like someone with some serious mental health issues. Even Jonathan who is always filled with sweet words and flattery says, "whoa! your hair is like...crazy in the back. Really crazy. Like can you comb it or...should you do something?" (yes, "should you do something"...its, like, emergency bad)

It kind of sticks up in spots, its kind of ratted in other spots, smushed flat on the side. A melody of texture that is not "tousled". Ocean mist? Maybe a hurricane.

But I think Aiden has taken making clean hair look dirty to new heights and dimensions. In the evening, his freshly showered sweet smelling baby scalp with that darling duckling fuzz blonde hair gets the works. Banana. Followed by green peas. Now, work through the hair with buttery hands from some toast. And generally pull in all directions. The result is this strange greasy hair tangle that gives him an overall neglected look.

During the day, he goes through the same routine a few times. So, before running out to the grocery, I'm first trying to sponge-wash turkey outta Mr. Mouse's pompadour. Which he despises. He's been working on his "look" and here I come with a sponge trying to wash this mornings breakfast sausage away.

As you can see in the picture, he's fairly please with his post-meal styling.

*Hmmm, looks like Cowboy Magic is actually for horses. On my annual girl's trip (Shout out to my Lovely Ladies!) there's usually a big tussle over the Cowboy Magic hair spray....I wonder if they know? We do all have shiny coats when we're going out to dinner - but does it really repel ring dust? See you girls in Sedonna in a few weeks!

Childproofing

2011-09-24T10:27:00.000-07:00

Where's my baby?

2011-09-23T10:16:00.000-07:00

This morning I put Aiden on the bathroom counter and see himself in two huge mirrors of his bathroom. He looked at himself admiringly. Then turned to the side mirror to get another view. I was standing behind him, holding him up (he's still not the steadiest on his feet).

To see him in the mirror gave such a different perspective.
The baby has definitely morphed into a teeth-having, gangly legged (yet still chubby) toddler.
He's a grabbing, digging, squawking, drooling machine. He's a climber, a kicker, a bit of a fit-thrower when the world isn't going his way (spine melts. body flattens face-down onto the floor. head limp for special effect). Some days his refined sign-language gives way to brute force and wiggling his way over to what he wants.

Our friends say "having a toddler is like living with a raccoon in your house".
Somehow, that makes me feel better.

He's in a "muttering and puttering" stage. He putts around in his drunken stagger style, muttering about the world in a language that's his own. Muttering about how...the band-aid box really should be emptied onto the floor! Now, look at this mess! This all needs to go into the garbage along with this roll of toilet paper and some sunscreen. No, no, this won't do...it all needs to come out. Spread some of this stuff around so we can take a look at exactly what's in the garbage anyway. Ah, I see the problem. The roll of toilet paper goes into the shower. That's better. Where's the cordless phone? That, too, should go into the shower. Along with some more band-aids. And the box. My work is never done around this place. And just who left this underwear folded on a chair? That needs to be put into the dirty laundry, the garbage or simply strewn about. Let me take a break by my favorite electrical outlet...ah, still childproofed....well, one of these days I'll get my claw-like fingers to pluck this damn thing out of the outlet and then we'll have some fun. Oh yeah. Now give me some of that coffee.

Summer boy

2011-09-21T20:39:00.000-07:00

Apple Snacker

2011-09-18T10:56:00.000-07:00

Amazing what you can do with a few teeth and some ambition.

Bingo Fuel Level

2011-09-16T10:51:00.000-07:00

If I had one piece of parenting advice to give it would be this:
Don't run on fumes.

You see, I'm a big fan of running on fumes -- my car even has a little "Range" button that tells me exactly how many more miles I can drive before I need to get gas. This button was the source of some arguments between Jonathan and I because he gets gas when there's, say, 30 miles left. I will get gas when there's, say, seven miles left. Or less.

If you can still drive seven miles, you don't need to get gas for seven more miles, right? Easy as that.

But as a pilot, Jonathan has it ingrained in his brain that you never, ever ever want to run out of gas. That's Bingo Fuel Level. And you never want that to happen, friend. (Dramatically illustrated in our favorite best worst movie The Guardian)

Well, parenting doesn't have a Range button.
There's no predictable average MPG.
In fact, I think kids have a sixth sense about them and when the gas tank is full, they burn less fuel, seem mellow and predictable. But, if you let the tank get low, they suddenly go into turbo drive and flash through the dribblets of fuel you thought would take you those last tasks, last hours, last "to-do", or last responsibility.

This week, I learned my lesson. In a magical storm of everything happening at once (Guardian!), we got to bingo fuel and it wasn't pretty.

I was overbooked with some volunteer work, some upcoming projects, oh...and my full-time job. Aiden was getting teeth (enough with the teething already!), had a cold and was waking up every 3 hours screaming like a banshee. Jonathan was working his tail off and was beyond tired.

Sometimes when I get overly tired, there's a weird cycle that starts.... I can't sleep. Like, wide awake until about 4 AM. Then Aiden was up. Then I slept for a couple hours. Then off to work. One problem with being sleep deprived is that you are still making decisions as if you were of sound mind. In fact, throw a cup of coffee into the combo and you feel like you're jazzed and ready to go. So, probably spent most of my day making half-baked decisions and reeling from meeting to meeting...and surviving on the office candy dish or someone's deserted catering order.

Finally, time to get home.
However, when I got off the bus, I realized I couldn't find my car because it was parked in San Francisco.

Yes. I drove in that day. Ugh. I didn't even remember until I was looking for my car.
Luckily, I was rescued by a friend. Realized I need to get some of my neighbors phone numbers into my mobile phone. And had a nanny who was now late to an evening babysitting gig (not happy).

I think my family collapsed in a heap that night and we're just now coming out of it....two days later.
(Refueling takes a lot longer when you're at bingo fuel.)

So, I'm hoping this weekend is about movies and chilling out and maybe sneaking in a nap.
Don't run on fumes.

Masked Man?

2011-09-15T21:21:00.000-07:00

So, basically, the baby equivalent of the Oscars is coming up....yes, you know exactly what I'm talking about people.

Its almost Halloween.

Parents of babies have to get their crap together and get a rocking costume together long before October actually hits. Especially if you are planning doing something matchy-matchy or a parent/child combo get up. (Last year I saw a nine-year old boy dressed as a lion, and his mother outfitted as a lion tamer...complete with a whip. That was a little unsettling. My favorite costume were two parents in safari-wear, little boy as clinging monkey.)

As a parent, I've got maybe one or two more years of picking out Jr. Birdman's costume before he goes all Hollywood on us and has to be a freakin' Spiderman or Harry Potter or whatever "It" cartoon character of the under five set.

Let me introduce you to the source of all Halloween costuming. This company has been sending me catalogs since August. They slowly break you down, silently and insidiously by invading my mailbox at least once a week until I think its probably fairly reasonable to pay $60 for a costume that my son *might* wear for about 90 minutes.

(but come on, I'm really paying for the pictures that will be taken in those 90 minutes.)

I've had my eye on a few of these get-ups. Okay, and maybe I've narrowed it down to a fav.
Unfortunately, Jonathan and I have some different perspectives around these things.
We have different favorites picked out.

Is it so unreasonable to spend $120 on two costumes?
Each he will wear for approximately 45 minutes?

He's only a baby once for godsake! Its a holiday! It will be so cute!

I think the real solution is to allow me to pick Aiden's costume, and then Jonathan will be free to pick a costume for himself.

Born to Ride

2011-09-15T10:32:00.001-07:00

U-Turn Jones

2011-09-13T21:05:00.000-07:00

Aiden walking....and walking away.

First word?

2011-09-12T21:02:00.000-07:00

I've been seeing other kids Aiden's age start to talk a few baby-talk syllables. Or babble away like they're really trying to get a point across.

Aiden has the sign language thing down...and prefers that since it allows him to have a pacifier, too.
(He's getting some new teeth, so we're letting that slide for the time being).

Finally, this weekend, I was really ready to hear some taking from this kid.
I looked at him, "Aiden, let's hear some words, buddy. Say 'daddy'".

He looked at me directly, took his paci out, said, "Da-da".
With a look that conveyed something a little more New York Cabbie-esque.
Replaced pacifier.
Crawled away.

Okay, I guess I just had to ask.

Aiden Pics!

2011-09-12T20:57:00.000-07:00

Here are a few recent pics of the boy.
The top picture is Aiden camping in Half Moon Bay over Labor Day...the sweatshirt and hood were definitely required!

The bottom two pictures are from last weekend. Aiden loves his pacifier and has invented his own sign language for it -- his thumb and forefinger elegantly made into an "O" and touched to his lips -- then he smacks his lips a few times. His signing is getting pretty good.

The bottom pic is when I asked Aiden if he could show me his teeth....voila. Teeth.

Friends

2011-09-09T21:53:00.000-07:00

Our good friends were tearing out their kitchen this weekend. This is a good thing if you are a friend because you have many options. One very good option is to help your friend tear out the cabinets, sweep, haul and do anything helpful. Especially if your talented cooking-friends really put their kitchen to good use like ours do. (Another option is to say you'll be out of town...and thereby forced to skulk around your home all weekend with curtains drawn, marinating in guilt...and knowing one day you'll sorely need the help and you'll be pretty much completely screwed. And it will be your own fault. And instead of fun friend-filled-dinners, you'll be alone with a $5 Little Ceasars' pizza. Which isn't even food.)

This opportunity is ESPECIALLY good if you get to ship your husband over to their place for the dusty heavy-lifting, while you go out to lunch with your most hysterical mom-friend and her adorable 14-mo old daughter. (Hey, we all have to do our part...mine involved more laughing and cuteness. What can I say? Like attracts like.)

So while Jonathan was in hog-heaven ripping into a project all day and drinking his first Coca-Cola in ten years (...really, J? I don't know if I believe that stat).I got to enjoy the company of my friend M and her little girl Baby M.

Now, M is a blast and can make you laugh at anything (like finding a human femur bone in the park near our house last week. Yes, she did. She even called the cops. But, she assured me it must have been "at least 30-years old because it takes a long time for flesh to rot off a bone". Somehow, that felt even more unsettling. I've seen enough episodes of Dexter to know better....but she made it damn funny.) I hope that either everyone knows someone as funny as M, or your life is too boring to require laughter to get through.

But, if you like M (and you would)....you're going to love Baby M!

Baby M is a hug-giving dancing machine. A mini-party in tiny Maryjanes. A cross between Shirley Temple and, and, and...I'm not sure. Maybe I can explain...

But she walked up to me in that adorable drunk-stumble baby walk. She patted my shoulder, looked me in the face with sparkling eyes and smiled... her face saying "hello! thanks for coming out tonight. Its great to meet the hardworking people like you who make America what it is today. I appreciate that and would like to ask for your...." --- then grabbed a toy out of my lap and trotted away grinning.

Victory in spiral curls.

Aiden also loves her - possibly in the way Charlie Brown loves the Little Red-Headed Girl. Its a one-way street of admiration, but he's happy with the way things are working out. Which is something like this: Aiden would do his thing, Baby M would follow him and take whatever toy he happened to be engaged with, and Aiden would seem fairly unconcerned.

"I only captured and played with this toy to gain your attention and win your affections, Baby M...Its all for you. As you wish, brave princess. Take the plastic keys to my heart. But now let me find my mama for some reassurance about this situation."

Yes, young son.
Some things will never change.

We had a great time - I can't wait to see the new kitchen, even if we just eat Little Ceasars' pizza there, and Aiden is just happy watching curls bounce/dance/stagger over to grab the latest toy...another chance to win her heart.

Wild and Free (with helmets)

2011-09-02T18:09:00.000-07:00

Secondhand Toys

2011-09-02T17:25:00.000-07:00

You know about my husband's addiction to Urban Ore - landfill covered by a roof. All for sale. As a couple, we've had some differences of opinion about this place - but luckily its near the grocery store so we merrily go our separate ways and each come back with our loot. (Me = dark chocolate with sea salt, Him = treasure that was once trashed)Well...we recently had a bout of luck with Urban Ore. Jonathan found a steamer - this tool that creates high-pressured steam to clean things. Frankly, it rocks. His gadget love crossed with "repurposed finds from Urban Ore" equals MANY steam-cleaned things in our home. All that really gross stuff you can't clean or don't know how to clean - presto! Clean! Steam cleans everything.This was especially lucky because he has also started to scavenge toys at Urban Ore. Discarded misfit toys and usually kinda grimy. But, someone has a little hidey-hole Santa's Workshop down in the garage. And in that workshop, a man and his steamer bring some of the classics back to life.I'll notice a pretty cool toy upstairs - ye olde' popcorn popper walker thing -- restored to pristine, mint condition. (I say EBAY! We'll make a fortune! But that idea hasn't flown)Aiden goes nuts! He loves all his new treasures lovingly restored by papa.I also posted my tiny friend signing "keys" for his motorcycle...and, once the keys are properly on the handlebars he's ready to ride.Born to be wild.

Tool Making Man

2011-09-02T17:07:00.000-07:00

Here is the boy with a toy basket he dragged (drug?) from the closet and emptied....then put to better use.Its strange to see the synapses starting to fire...He gets these crazy ideas, but now he can create "tools" from things.And have the physical coordination to make it happen.Shelves, drawers, books are all stairs to get somewhere higher - where the good stuff lives. Like remote controls and iPhones. And keys!

Walking Tall

2011-09-01T22:48:00.000-07:00

Aiden Bo is suddenly walking. Two weeks ago, he took 2 or 3 steps. Then last weekend, he was talking 4 steps. Now, he's pretty much walking all over the place. Kind of. Whoever termed the phrase "baby steps" has never seen a baby walk. Its rough going. There are some rough spills. We've got some movies, but, see, I got a new computer, then it broke, then the wireless broke, and now we're back online but I don't know where the camera is.We'll get it together soon and post.

Baby in a vacant lot

2011-08-22T19:04:00.000-07:00

Here's Boy Wonder.

Kind of a sad environment...dead grass, an abandoned lawn chair. My child holds a rock as his form of entertainment.

Technically, he's sitting in a vacant lot.

Writing this, I'm fairly certain these are conditions to put him at risk to be recruited by a gang.

I'll tell Jon to water the lawn and move that rickety chair.

Weekend bliss

2011-08-21T18:35:00.000-07:00

My friends have been amazing since Aiden has been born. They are always happy to stop by and hang at our house. Or meet up at places close to our house, working around naptimes, and being understanding when the baby-grenade goes off (Oops! We have to go! Like, NOW! Seeeee yaaa!).

And of course, we've made some great new friends with kiddos who are in BabyLand, too. (You've seen said babies on this blog. A cute bunch, no?) But again, play dates are dictated by teething, napping, feeding, poo-ing, general goodwill or crankypant-ness.

And I realized its been over a year since I've gotten to hang with any buddies solo. Like, just me.

Sure, I do work 4 days a week with other adults, but I'm usually in "jam out a lot of work and get your butt home!" mode. I'm on the clock, I'm paying a nanny on the clock, and we don't really mess around. It's business time and people are getting PAID! Not a lot of time to play.

So, this weekend, all that changed.

I got a manicure. With my friend.

Like a classy lady.

(First, it meant not biting my nails for four days beforehand in order to have nails to manicure. So, that took planning. And luckily I have an amazing husband to take the afternoon shift. But I did it.)

And I got to sit in a big cushy pillowed chair with my friend bending my ear about her love and loss and annoying dumb boys, and deep conversations with said boy, and uncertain futures and all that. And it was fairly wonderful. And I didn't have to do anything. Just sit there and listen and have someone massage my arm and apply stylish colored nail polish to my hand. And feel somewhat glamorous.

Just me. And my friend. And my fingernails.

Then we had a cup of coffee. Nirvana.
Just talking and sipping a cappuccino that I don't have to "share" (I just pretend to give sips to Aiden but it gets slobbery and there is usually a fight to get it back).

Ah! It all took about 90 minutes. But it felt like a lifetime.

Then...yes, what more could I ask for?
Nothing!

And yet...

I went to yoga this morning.

Not a "Mommy-and-me", not "Baby-yoga", not "Yoga for kids"...

Plain-flavored Yoga.

For me!

And, the icing on this yoga cake?
I think I was one of the younger people in the class (8 AM on Saturday doesn't really attract the party crowd). NOT that it MATTERS, because yoga is never competitive but...

...instead of collapsing in a heap of tears after the first 20 minutes, I was able to rock this class. Another downward dog? No prob! Plank? Sure! What next? Oh? We're at the end of the class?

Hmmm....yeah, mama's still got it.
And damn, my fingernails look good. I gotta go to the drugstore and pick out a matching shade for my toes. Ummm-hmmmm.

We'll see what tomorrow brings (yoga strikes back on Day 2), but for now, I'm happy.

Its official. He's walking.

2011-08-20T17:59:00.000-07:00

Well, let it be known...today is officially the first day I'd say Aiden is really walking. He spent most of the morning collapsing on me, then on Jonathan. (Resting up for the afternoon of walking.)

Here's his style:
Grab something in each hand.
Look across the room and carefully get your balance...all set? Okay...start walking.
The first 5 steps are pretty easy, but then things get tricky, wobbly, or faster...or larger lunging steps. But the further he walks the bigger he smiles.

And he's even refined a "crash landing" by going to a knee, then down.

So we spent the afternoon watching him walk from one couch to the other, to the door, to the couch. We "pretend ignore" him when he's walking (don't wanna distract the migration)...then cheer like crazy once he's down.

This week has marked a few milestones.

Last weekend it became official that restaurants are no longer fun as I shoved a hamburger into my mouth while Jonathan wrestled a squirming greased piglet. Then I took my turn playing "whack-a-mole" with Aiden's grabbing hands. "No. No. No. Not for babies. No, sweetie. Not for you. No. Let go please. No. No. Oh, give that to mamma. No. What did you put in your mouth? No, let me see. Open. Open. No. No. Give it back. ...Oh, for Godsake, we'll be out in the car!"

We were those people.
And to add insult to injury, we both were mildly food-poisoned from the joint. (Maybe at least that ends the hamburger-n-fries cravings for awhile?)

So...he we go. The walking toddler who doesn't like going out to eat.
I think we're about to be initiated into a whole new world of "Kid Friendly"...

Baby Prison Riot

2011-08-19T21:34:00.000-07:00

I read Courtney's post the other day and was laughing hysterically, as I do, because once again she has captured perfectly in words what our little Aiden had been doing. Just to show all of you how perfect was her description, I set out on a mission this afternoon. Aiden, as usual, did not want to go down for his afternoon nap. I went up to check on him, and all his "bed things" were in a heap next to his bed. As I was putting it all back, it dawned on me that I might be able to capture the phenomenon on video if I left the shade up in his room.
So, I put his bed all back together, gave him back his pacifier and said "nite nite Aiden" and left the room. I went down stairs and got my iPhone and carefully and silently climbed back up the stairs like a wildlife photographer. I poked my phone around the corner of his door so just the tiny camera lens was in the doorway, and watched the screen from a few steps below the top of the stairs. Young Mr Aiden did not disappoint... a few minutes later, I was able to capture the whole thing.... here it is for your viewing pleasure.

Tiny Prison Riot

2011-08-15T13:33:00.000-07:00

This weekend, I put my sweet child down for a nap. His downy head snuggled into his crib. And with a "pat, pat, night-night!", I walked out of his room ready for some serious Vanity Fair reading time (J-Lo's first interview since the breakup! Fashion awards! HRH of SuchandWhosit is marrying!)

A few minutes later, I hear some rumbling in Mr. A's room. I hear some rattling. I hear a complete ruckus...but no crying.

So, I turn on our video baby monitor to see what in god's name is going ON in there?

And, I witness Mr. Bo tossing out his big stuffed bumble bee with a wicked heave. The baby owl gets pitched next. A fearful rattling and shaking of his crib bars follows and he dives back in...going for Lambie!

Lambie is a sheepskin that he's slept on since Day 4 (Alta Bates was Days 1 - 3). Lambie is a home whenever we need a home. We travel with Lambie. We brush Lambie with a special brush. We wash Lambie with a special detergent. We love Lambie.

But I see Aiden ripping Lambie out of his crib - or at least trying to. He looks like a little dude trying to rip out wall-to-wall carpeting while standing on said carpeting.
But then he regains his footing. Lambie is freed...but not easy to wrestle over the crib edge. It takes a few tries. Lambie crumples back into the crib in a pile.

Aiden takes a break. Laying his head on a bunched up Lambie. "Sorry for trying to throw you out of our crib, but...you gotta go, sucker!"
Then tackles this project with renewed vigor.

The situation looks like a prison riot - instead of flaming toiletpaper and mattresses being pitched through the bars, he's flinging blankets, pillows, owls, bees, pacifiers and, yes, finally. Sir Lambie.

Sorry, Lambie. You're outta here.

Finally satisfied, he plops and surveys his new digs. Sheets as far as the eye can see.

THEN, then crying starts.

No like the coffee

2011-08-10T21:11:00.001-07:00

Coffee!

2011-08-10T21:10:00.001-07:00

Putting it together

2011-08-08T20:47:00.001-07:00

Sometimes, you think your kid just isn't getting it.
No, actually, you aren't getting it. Take his point of view and things make sense.

Aiden signs "dog" for "computer". Because, duh, you watch Kipper the Dog on the computer. What's your problem?

Poking a fat finger throughout the "Where's Maisy?" book means he's ringing the doorbell of Maisy's house. Yeah, our nanny let's him ring our doorbell all day long, so its really only the polite thing to do. (I did not know that. Until this morning)

Keys go into locks.
If your forget that simple fact while you walk by keys or a door, God help you. But no worries. Screeches will guide you.

Drinking milk is not an option. Remember that simple fact and we won't have problem.

Got it?

Its alive! ALIIIIVE!

2011-07-30T19:51:00.000-07:00

Holy mother. Today was a big day.
And I thought YESTERDAY was big.
So, let's start there. Yesterday.

Yesterday Jonathan and Zadie had returned from New Zealand - bright eyed and bushy tailed (kind of). Aiden and I couldn't wait for them to be back so we headed off to the airport plenty early to pick them up. We got there about 45 minutes early. But that's okay, because when you are new to this planet, few things are more exciting than an AIRPORT, my friends. And we had to try out all the fixin's....including, but not limited to:
+ the parking garage
+ walking on the "people movers"
+ checking out escalators (up and down and up and down)
+ baggage carts
+ revolving doors
+ drinking fountains
+ airplanes (of course)
+ huge glass windows that needed to be licked (?)
+ television screens that showed your loved ones coming out of customs
+ tile floors
+ pay phones
+ babies and kids from Guadalajara, Shanghai, Hong Kong...and more!
+ pilots (they were really friendly to kids)
+ rolling luggage
+ emotional reunions
+ a little girl with a box of raisins

Oh, and walking...you have to walk the long, long, corridors of the airport. So much to walk and so much to see. Aiden is still a finger-holding creeping guy, so I was hunched over his frame, trying not to step on small feet.

So, by the time papa arrived on the scene, his mind had been blown completely. He was like "what's my ol' papa doing at a place like THIS!?! This place is INSANE!"

We piled into the car, dropped Zadie in SF, went to lunch and then to an (early afternoon) party at my office where there were ENDLESS BALLOONS and beanbags! (Obviously, this is an epic day for Aiden) He was introduced, walked, talked to, given pizza crusts, and generally had a great time grabbing balloons and chasing giant beach balls around the office.

We finally headed home and Aiden racked out. Disk full.

Today, however, after his brain had a chance to reboot, we had 2 new milestones.

First, as I was cleaning out our office space, Aiden was obsessed with getting his hands on a dry-erase marker. He was standing and holding me with one hand, but then let go to take a few steps towards the marker.

One step.
Two steps.
Three steps. He looked like Neil Armstrong walking on the moon. Slow and deliberate.

Jonathan and I were both staring at him and holding our breath. Whispering "get...the...marker..."

Aiden was obviously getting the hang of the fact that he had taken a few steps solo and started to crack a huge smile, creeping one more step before plotzing on his rear.

He's a cautious, particular walker...kinda unwilling to take the step unless he has full balance and control.

So, then, this evening...I was filling his bath and grabbing some pajamas for him. He was standing at the edge of the tub saying "Da! Da! Da!"
But when I looked, he was doing the sign for BATH. We are getting really close to having human communication come out of this kid's mouth....

Walking and talking is here.

Three Days In...

2011-07-24T21:24:00.000-07:00

But I found a poem on the internet that sums it up so far.

I love you.

I am your parent, you are my child.
I am your quiet place, you are my wild.

I am your calm face, you are my giggle.
I am your wait, you are my wiggle.

I am your dinner, you are my chocolate cake.
I am your bedtime, you are my wide awake.

I am your lullaby, you are my peekaboo.
I am your goodnight kiss, you are my "I love you".

Papa goes abroad

2011-07-20T19:05:00.000-07:00

Jonathan leaves tomorrow for NZ for a week. We're going to miss our Papa.

Aiden is on the verge of walking - so hopefully he can get some first steps in tomorrow or else I'm encouraging some sitting for the next week so Pops doesn't miss a thing. (yeah, right, not sure how to encourage that little one to sit - he even stands to watch TV).

Tonight when I got home from work, I was treated to a new daredevil stunt. He takes one side off his wagon and steps onto the wagon platform. But instead of sitting, he stands and hangs onto the handle with a huge grin...laughing maniacally. Looking directly at me. Then, he adds in a sway-wiggle to make the wagon start to rock back and forth. More hysterical laughter. More direct eye contact.

Our boy is fearless. When Lulu was here, we went to the park. Aiden saw a play-structure. He made a beeline for that thing. He climbed it, then stopped for a sec to take a whirl "steering" a steering wheel bolted to the structure. Play-structure back on course, he then crawled over a small bridge and flung himself down the slide - head first.

Luckily, Lulu is fast like a cat and grabbed him.
He was unfazed and went for a round 2, round 3, round 4. Diving headfirst with a grin.

He's got some heft to him, so he's somewhat like a small bag of cement hurling itself at you.

Since I've practiced hefting him with one arm, I've got one bicep that looks like Popeye.

And one bicep that's more Olive Oyl. Its okay. That's my computin' arm.

Good morning, sunshine!

2011-07-20T09:26:00.000-07:00

Aiden at the beach

2011-07-17T20:26:00.000-07:00

...by a lake. Is that still called a beach?

Things Aiden and I did today

2011-07-17T20:15:00.000-07:00

1. Said farewell to my parents headed back to Austin
2. Took a nap with Aiden
3. Tried to see if Aiden can watch his sign language video alone (he can! but it seems much shorter when I'm trying to do something else)
4. Watched video twice (he's gotta learn sign langauge!)
5. Emptied all the drawers in my bathroom, his bedroom
6. Emptied all the dirty clothes hampers
7. Ate lunch
8. Looked at stray cat which acts like it has a home...ours.
9. Worried about being an unwilling cat owner
10. Ate raisins (Aiden can serve himself from his mini-box. Unfortunately, portion control is not good. 3 teeth. 500 raisins. At once.)
11. Gathered "go to the park" gear
12. Strap into car and go!
13. Leisurely walk around the park
14. Decided "what the hell, admission to the lake is only another $3..." Into lake area.
15. Aiden walks in sand (with help). In shallow water. Behind ducks. Back on sand. Follows two-year old. Follows 5 girls. On sand. In water. Sand. Water.
16. Move to grass for a foot "break" and to chase birds.
17. Chase birds.
18. Aiden refuses to get into his carriage...mayhem ensues.
19. Mama carries Aiden and develops large bicep only on one arm.
20. Watch little boy ride his bike. Chase little boy riding bike (while hanging onto my hands...can't walk alone but demands to be "walked"). Onlooker comments "you're in trouble. he's got a real determined look about him."
21. Determined baby won't get into carseat.
22. Abandon car seat (temporarily) and pack up gear
23. Car seat greeted with terrifying screams and wails...then snores.
24. Two and a half hour nap.
25....followed by dinner, bath and bedtime. For me, too.

Our new pool

2011-07-17T20:14:00.001-07:00

Jonathan cools off. Aiden clings on.

Why no bloggy-blog?

2011-07-03T20:56:00.001-07:00

Sorry for the long breaks between posts... The weather got nicer, days got longer and Aiden went into warp-overdrive in everything he does. I feel like I could just sit down everyday and make a list of all the new things he does each day. His brain is developing like a freakin' Dubai construction site. I spend most of the time watching the back of his head, a big diapered butt, and the soles of his feet as he takes off (away from me).

He loves TV (we let him watch a teeny bit...but he's crazy for it). He screams a screeching yelp like some insane parrot and bounces up and down to express his deep deep adoration for all things television. So far he gets to watch Kipper, a very boring English dog that gets into some boring narratives but little guys just LOVE this dog. My sister has pointed out that some of the plot lines are clearly drug-induced inspirations, but that aside, its a good show.

He also gets to watch his (somewhat creepy) sign language DVD which uses real kids doing sign language (adorable), plus two sock-monkeys (without arms, so they don't do any sign language but they do weird monkey-babble in a way that Aiden finds unbelievably hysterical...), plus creepy 3-D animated babies that do sign language, plus a teddy bear with real human hands that signs (weird). The combo really works for Aiden - and he has to stand on the couch under the TV to get as close as humanly possible to the 42 inch TV.

He is also standing on his own, and even takes a few steps if he's not paying attention to himself.
He likes his toys that make noise...and keeps the tunes rolling.

He's starting to mimic and remember things....that's good when you want him to remember (like, "where are your ears?"). Bad when you don't want him to remember (like, why eat anything but blueberries...there ARE still blueberries in the refrigerator...we both know that). So, language and actions are getting cleaned up around here immediately.

He likes doing "itsy bitsy spider" when you are singing but NOT LOOKING at him. He likes kids his age when they are NOT LOOKING AT HIM. And mostly likes to manipulate other adults with smiles and jokes and showing off that he has a belly button.

But all that doesn't leave much time for blogging...and I fear I'll start to be the boring blog lady that rattles on and on about my kid....since that's about 99% of my life.... oh, and the dryer broke. And we got a crock pot. So, its been fairly insane around here. ;)

Seriously, summer is gorgeous, days are spectacular, I'm shocked that my baby can now sign "Hmm, I don't know!" (seriously...and he doesn't know about a lot of things). He shrugs and looks at you like "What the hell? iI just got here and I have no idea what that is all about."

We're eating a lot of blueberries and cherries and watching the loquats get ripe on the trees. Our stray cat visits at least once a day to mark his territory (Aiden) and get its tail pulled. We've got the wading pool out but its not very popular. Too cold. And bugs float in it. So, its a no go. Popsicles are a hit, music is a hit, pressing buttons that make noise are a hit. Small things he can ride in are a hit (wagons, small trikes, laundry basket) but big things he can ride in (his stroller and the car) are not a hit. All things with electrical cords are a big fascination. The stairs are a blast. His bed is not a blast, and he protests by evicting all things stuffed and fluffy out of the bed and onto the floor.

In the past 6 weeks, he's really entered this world and he's developing (lots) of opinions about it. Of course, its America, and we're all entitled to our opinions.

So, happy fourth of July! I hope you're all celebrating all the goodness of summer and freedom and cheap fireworks. Jonathan will be on duty tomorrow for all y'all who don't get the timing right on the launch of your cherry bombs and M80s. Just collect the fingers while your friend calls 911...they appreciate that.

The thing about paci's

2011-06-26T21:59:00.000-07:00

Aiden is a pacifier addict. I know, some parents are very anti-paci, but facts are facts.
And here are the facts:
1) It makes him look like Maggie Simpson (cute)
2) It keeps bugs and grass out of his mouth (true)
3) ...and he seems happy (goal), so what's the harm?

This morning, actually, I put him down for a nap (with paci) and...a mere 40 minutes later he woke up with not one, not two, but three paci's. One in mouth, one in each hand, trying to stuff the other two into his mouth.

Where? How does this happen? I search for those dang things each morning and after every nap. He's got a stash under his mattress? Stuffed in the toy monkey? Where?

He's at a very funny age where his life revolves around a few key props. With those props he makes a scene, makes jokes, expresses himself fairly creatively.

His "props" are pacifiers (of course), socks, a toy phone and his belly button. The paci's are all purpose - that's his currency for a power play, his negotiating terms, his "baby gold". As I said above, he just realized that maybe having more than one paci has its benefits. His newest joke is to pluck his paci out when I'm rocking him to sleep, and nonchalantly drop it behind his head. Then he looks at me and laughs hysterically as we are both in on the joke that only a crazy baby would drop his paci! Its so unbelievably out there...such unexpected comedy.

Of course, he's started the paci "share"...he loves you so much, he'd like to let you have the paci for awhile.

The socks are the "let's go" prop. He can't put socks on by himself, but he'll put them near his feet if he wants to go. Or, if we're out, he'll yank them off as if to say "hey, its relaxation time, people. Let's head back to the barn." The socks also double as flesh-eating puppet monsters that will gnaw your neck into ribbony-bits while you laugh out your final breaths (or so we pretend).

The phone - yes - that's universal. "Hello? Is Aiden there?"
Always a good time. And a good reminder that he's a busy baby with lots of important calls.

And his belly button.
Not sure if you know this...but everyone has one! And if you ask Aiden where his belly button is, well, he can't really see it since his belly is so round. But he takes some time to look, then find the damn thing, and then show it off with pride. Each time it is a fresh discovery and a great conversation piece.

Amazing that he's only been on the planet a little more than a year.

Its really funny to start to have communication with him through a few sign-language signs ("more" and "more"...okay, he has one sign down.) and his "jokes".

He can stand on his own, but only when he isn't really paying attention and happens to need to stand up. He can also push his wagon, unload everything in a dresser of drawers, pluck every flower off a blooming-anything and vehemently protest the unfairness and inhumanity of being strapped into a carseat (no fair! get me outta here!)

i know. no new posts.

2011-06-21T11:17:00.000-07:00

I will update soon - Aiden is a maniac! Standing, shouting, yet not quite at "table level" height but has "table level" reach so he can scoot a hand across the top of a table and pull things down he might need to inspect. (We are now entering a clutter-free zone.)

Summer is definitely here but Aiden's like his dad. He doesn't like grass, hot temperatures, bugs, water (like the hose), sunshine or oak leaves (unless he is eating them). He does like to look at the trees, point at squirrels and carefully listen to birds sing.

More soon!

Happy balloons!

2011-06-21T11:15:00.000-07:00

Aiden got to go hang out with his buddy Maya at her birthday party...which...featured balloons!

Fwd: I wanna see!!

2011-05-29T14:25:00.001-07:00

Took Aiden for a walk and covered the stroller so he'd sleep...a few minutes later I checked on him....and he was enjoying the scenery.
>

>
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Cake! (and a truck)

2011-05-27T21:16:00.000-07:00

Aiden tried to grab his candles, then spit out his cake and shoved a huge strawberry in his mouth. He was tentative about the cake thing at best.

Paarrtttaaayy!

2011-05-27T21:08:00.000-07:00

Videos from the big celebration...as you can see, it was off the HOOK!
These babies turned this party out! We had babies, cake, candles, three dump trucks, and a magic Radio Flyer wagon. I'm setting up a separate post with photos.

Number One Birthday Coming Up!

2011-05-24T09:24:00.000-07:00

So, Friday is the big day. Aiden's number one birthday, yo.

We're going to have a 4:1 ratio of grandparents to grandbabies on Saturday...so there should be some spoiling going on around here.

And, I've got all the fixings for a beautiful home-ade cake....and a mom to come help me bake it.
I'm a cook, but following exact instructions has never been my strong suit.

Lots of goodness going on - lots to report - and I promise pictures and videos after the birthday bash.

Slide at Nana's

2011-05-16T09:48:00.000-07:00

Oh...this was from a few weekends ago...

Greek Festival

2011-05-16T09:44:00.000-07:00

This weekend we walked down to the Greek Festival for some major munching.
Last year, I could barely walk there and back with a big ol' pregnant belly leading the way. This year, I could barely keep baby munchmouth fed.

He's getting some teeth, and these must be mean ones...lots of crying, thrashing and general agony. Jonathan sympathizes as he just had his wisdom teeth pulled last weekend.
Lots of Tylenol at our house these days.

PS

2011-04-26T20:06:00.000-07:00

I did manage to finish the owl...and a matching squirrel, thank you very much!

No, I don't have a picture to prove it...but I will hopefully have two lovely pillows adorned with their wilderness-ness soon.

Eastover? Jeaster?

2011-04-24T19:33:00.000-07:00

...What do you call a combo Passover/Easter weekend? We had a big, wonderful weekend.

First we went to Nana and Zadie's. Such a comfortable place to stay and always restful. Except for Aiden, I guess. The first night he was up and screaming (the blood-curdling kind) every 90 minutes or so. Believe me, after a night like that you are ready to have faith in anything...Jesus, Moses, Abraham, whoever...just make the crying stop. Please, God!

I finally threw myself on the screaming grenade and packed him into the car for a trip to the grocery store around 7:30 AM. I figured I could use some coffee and fresh air and he'd rack out in his stroller pretty quickly. I called my sister for some support - expressing how surprised I was that Aiden had a major night-long freakout at 11 months. Apparently that was an anecdote that caused cackles and howling laughter through her circle of friends all weekend...although I'm still not sure why its so funny?

We had a beautiful Seder dinner with family and laughter and candles... and the Plagues represented as plushie toys (I caught Nana and Aiden playing with a sweet stuffed locust and a plump fuzzy skin boil. For reals. These are definitely my favorite part of the holiday. Love them!) Dinner was very fun and full. And Aiden loved his cousins - and his cousins were super sweet to him. Nana's house also provided a great deal of entertainment. So much to climb! So many places to crawl! He was very busy, very tired, and slept fantastically the rest of the weekend (as did mamma.). Thank you baby Jesus. And Abraham. And Moses. And Mother Mary. Pshew.

When we came home, I stuffed Aiden in a dress shirt and snapped a pic so I could get on with the business of eating that chocolate rabbit (Sorry, chocolate is not for babies, Aiden).

Yes, for this year, Easter was boiled down to getting a picture in some dress clothes and munching on caramel eggs while Mr. A battled a large stuffed bee...I didn't think to kidnap a Plague.

Climber

2011-04-24T19:26:00.000-07:00

Aiden loves our stairs, he's been climbing up them for a few weeks now. He started with just the bottom two stairs, then Jonathan started following him all the way up. Here's our boy making slow and steady progress. Watching in person is really funny, you can't see it in this video, but he used to try and bite the stair he was climbing to get more leverage, I guess. I can't imagine how that would taste, but he seemed undaunted.

A few days ago, I taught him how to come down (flatten out on yer belly and SLIDE, boy!) and since then, he is only interested enough to climb enough stairs to make the slide down worthwhile.

Excellent

2011-04-14T16:39:00.000-07:00

This is funny.

And, yes, I am still giving gifts on most days. And I'm finding out that its more satisfying to buy family and friends little surprises than just ship off some money over the internet to a group...

Outdoors!

2011-04-11T10:26:00.000-07:00

Got a little sunshine (finally)!
Aiden enjoyed snacking on some grass. When I wasn't looking.

Naptime

2011-04-09T18:51:00.001-07:00

Mr. Aiden stretched out and zonked out on his lambie.

The Era of the Babbling Brook Starts Now

2011-04-02T13:24:00.000-07:00

So, there's a reason I posted my embroidery work mid-project. I need to archive it. I need to show that I almost got a project finished. And it would have been cute. But, that was before 12:30...its now 1:30 and we're in a new era.

You see, today we have entered the Era of the Babbling Brook.
This isn't some new age-y Age of Aquarius stuff. This is REAL. Hardcore.

Lemme back up.

So, for the past 10 months, my life has been lived to the soundtrack of "Ocean Waves". All the moments are tied together with that white noise crashing in the background. I've written about "Sound Machine" many times in the blog and how this was the best thing anyone gave us (thanks AGAIN, B & C for passing on your sound machine...now making it through 4 babies). I am so accustomed to it, that I forget to turn it off, so the ocean rushes away through our house. And we're all super frickin' chill. Or maybe partially deaf.

Today. Aiden is pooped, I put him in his crib for a nap.
I sneak on down to my juicy project - EMBROIDERY! TEA! HERE I COME! Contentedly, I stitch away wondering if my green owl looks too much like a parrot.
The baby monitor buzzes away with the wash of ocean waves. All is quiet at Chez Kaplan.

Then...suddenly.
Babbling Brook.

I am not kidding you.
Babbling Brook starts coming through the baby monitor.
WTH??

The sound machine is near Aiden's crib, but not like IN it. It would take some doing to get his fat arm out far enough. Holy crap. We just entered the Era of Babbling Brook. Or who knows, maybe Spring Rain? Or Heartbeat Womb?!? Who can control this?

The moment was like a movie...when the nerdy science guy leaves his robot in the lab and locks up for the night. But as the lab is dark and quiet, then the robot's creepy glowing red eyes blink on by themselves and start wreaking havok on the world.

My world.

In case I never get any further

2011-04-02T13:06:00.000-07:00

...on this project....here it is, owl pillow in progress.

Sick Days

2011-04-01T18:36:00.000-07:00

Giving has taken a backseat for a few days...someone gave me a cold.
I gave it to Aiden.
Its been a whopper but I think we'll be back on track tomorrow.

Gift of the day

2011-03-30T18:17:00.000-07:00

Question is: which is the gift?

Day 3, 4, 5, 6 and 7

2011-03-28T11:46:00.000-07:00

Yes, I'm still going...
In exchange, I'm getting so much more back than I'm giving...
Literally, people are giving me things, and things are showing up.

Day 3 - I spent time consulting with a friend and encouraging her to launch some amazing plans that are bound to happen. I left our meeting tingling with excitement and feeling so energized.

Day 4 - made a trip to the honey store for a special dinner gift (Honey! Because, wine is overdone as a dinner gift.) We got some home-laid eggs in return...along with an amazing dinner and fine company.

Day 5 - found a perfect pair of Lakshmi goddess socks for a friend - Lakshmi is the goddess of prosperity and these purple socks with hot pink Lakshmis are the ticket to abundance, baby! She loved them and sent me a pic of her wearing them triumphantly.

Day 6 - wrote a rainbow letter to my niece (yes, I used every color marker I have). Remembered the joys of rainbow letters and shared some understanding about the unfairness of having to share a room with a little brother (or sister...I shared with 2)

Day 7 - today - I'm giving full attention to Aiden and Jonathan tonight. No multi-tasking, no TV, no reading, no computer...just be with my family. Sounds like that should happen all the time, but it doesn't...and this is my experiment to show myself that the world will still turn if I'm not on the computer.

Farm adventure

2011-03-25T10:45:00.000-07:00

Oh, because i have a second, i should also share my next farm adventures....

Bee shop - Bee Healthy Honey Store with honey tasting tomorrow! I don't know if I'm ready to keep bees, but the honey sounds great.

And...my class for the "Goat Curious" taught by Novella Carpenter. Yes, I'm going to learn what's really required to have a goat and if my neighborhood is zoned for it. Novella is a woman who has a farm in downtown Oakland. A farm. Downtown.

When I first followed her blog it sounded like she was pretty much on her own, doing this and inventing it as she went along. Well, now, she's got events, parties, brunches, eco-chicken coops, a book, speaking gigs, and teaching classes as the BioFuel Oasis...the Oakland version of a Country Store for urban farmers. AND the farm. Its cool to see things blossom.

And...tomorrow night we are having dinner with friends who have chickens in their backyard.

I love spring.

Day 2: A Bus

2011-03-25T10:28:00.000-07:00

So, Day 2...I ended up getting to the office really early and needed to stay late for a new business meeting. The day was really busy as a few of my team members are sick and some went home, so I ended up leading a few extra meetings, taking on more than normal. Which is fine and part of the scheme of life. But towards the end of the day, I wasn't feeling so hot myself, and hadn't been outside the office (not that I would have, it was freezing and pouring rain).

So, I had my coat on, bag packed, and I was ready to hoof it for the next bus...when...

One of my team mates started asking about a project. Normally, I would have said, "don't worry, we'll figure it out later" but seemed like maybe it was concerning her more than that. So, I took my coat off, missed the bus and resolved some things.

I struggled on whether this was a "gift" or not...maybe that's just doing my job? And it wasn't a huge thing - no big wrapped box or a bow, but our conversation seemed to bring her some clarity and put her mind at ease a little more. And I felt that "giving feeling" of making a choice to do something extra for someone else.

Writing about it is uncomfortable as I hear "...that's not really a gift. that's your job. that isn't good enough to be a gift. don't brag about doing your job - its what you're supposed to do." And, its true....this giving isn't as fun as handing people cake. There is definitely more of a kick associated with a surprise or something special and unusual.

But the fact is I take the 5:15 bus EVERDAY. And yesterday, I gave that bus away.
That's all I got, people! Some days, that's the truth.

Day 1: Cake

2011-03-23T18:13:00.001-07:00

Well, Day 1.
I saw these tiny cute cakes at a little bakery where I get lunch sometimes...I decided to get one for our nanny Lil...she's been rocking it and we love having her with Aiden. Today was her 1-month anniversary working here and our lives are so much better for it.

So, buying the cake is one thing (easy)....transporting the delicate thing home is another (not so easy. It had little delicate berries perched atop it and sprinkled in powdered sugar).

Of course, I had the 90 pounds of stuff I haul home every night slung over one shoulder. And, a teeny-tiny fancy cake perched in my other hand - aloft through downtown blocks, across crowded streets, trotting to the bus moments before it left..

But...the cake...balancing cake on the bus for 45 minutes...it started a conversation on the bus because rain was leaking from the bus roof. My fellow passenger warned me "that seat might get wet! Cover that dessert!"

So we started talking and she asked me about my day. I asked about hers. We talked about French bakeries, Jury Duty, iPads, how to get organized around dinner, how the baby is sleeping, and, very importantly who is going to eat that cake?!?

This is all new stuff. Most nights, I plug in my earphones and zone out until I'm home.

Gift 1 has already opened a few new doors.

29 Gifts in 29 Days

2011-03-22T09:43:00.000-07:00

One of my favorite bloggers is doing "29 Gifts in 29 Days". She was hoping this is going to get her focus off the winter blues, outside herself, and moving into something else.

I, too, am in need of something to shake things up and I liked the quote on the homepage:
Give one thing away each day for 29 days. Why? Because to see your world change, you have to DO something to change your world.

Here's a video of the founder explaining her idea.

http://www.29gifts.org/video/welcome-to-29giftsorg

So...springing into spring...I'll start tomorrow and report daily (weekly) on what I'm giving and how its going.

Second Date with Aiden

2011-03-19T21:27:00.000-07:00

Last week there was a second Costco date. This is getting serious.

Happy St. Patrick's Day

2011-03-17T16:52:00.000-07:00

Goat Farm Field Trip

2011-03-16T09:14:00.000-07:00

Last weekend we took a family field trip to a goat farm...yes, in this part of the country that's a "fun trip" (with tickets) not just "the neighborhood". There were 96 baby goats, beautiful edible flower gardens, and guard llamas!

The farm specializes in goat cheese...and it was delicious. My favorite was lavender honey on ciabatta bread. Soooo good. I think Aiden had a good time.

Here are a few pics:

Crawling like nobody's business

2011-03-12T19:42:00.000-08:00

Aiden had been partially scooting around.
Then, I got home on Wednesday night...and he was crawling.
He crawled directly to an extension cord with 6 outlets. I yelped and he made a u-turn to get to the dangling cords that pull our blinds up. Finally, a beeline to a space heater...trying to get some action.

Basically, the baby Bermuda triangle.

To get to each Exposition of Death, he had to crawl AROUND a HUGE multicolored plastic toy that sings, rings, toots and and laden with butterflies, jumping fish and spinning frogs. I'm sure in his mind he was thinking, "Screw that...let me get to the good stuff I've been checking out....what exactly ARE those dangling things???"

Aiden's Date, Part 2

2011-03-10T15:23:00.000-08:00

Maybe things were going better at the end?

Costco Date

2011-03-10T14:34:00.001-08:00

Aiden and Maya enjoy a date at Costco.

Maya = thrilled

Aiden = not convinced

What's for dinner?

2011-03-06T21:37:00.000-08:00

We saw our pediatrician this weekend for a check up. He's a great help for us and always has some good advice that I appreciate. This visit, he saw Aiden's new teeth and asked what he was eating these day. I named the usual suspects - avocado, sweet potato, pears, baby food in a jar, the mushy stuff that creates a toothless guy's diet.

He suggested we start to include him in our dinners (or some meal). Pull his chair up to the dining room table, have some dinner conversation and then feed him off our plates. Feed him anything we are eating (appropriately mashed or sliced) and he'll appreciate the social nature of dinner and will taste a variety of food...our doctor said it will really pay off later to have a child that is part of the social meal and will eat more than Rice Chex.

Sounds great.

Except for one thing.
The food we eat.

I can picture myself at Peets, giving Aiden bites of a chocolate croissant and sips of a double latte. See, social! Then, at lunch he could have some mashed up Italian Sub and potato chips followed by half a pound of m&ms harvested from the office candy bowl.

Aiden, another BBQ flavored Pringle, sweetpea?

And dinner? Well, here, my son, have a nosh of PowerBar and half glass of red wine. But don't ruin your appetite, because we also have Pita Chips and some leftover Pad Thai. Oh, and some black olives. Nummers! We'll just munch on all this while I check some email and watch Oprah. You in?

He might be better off with sweet potato.
And maybe I should eat off his plate.

New teeny baby

2011-03-04T21:19:00.001-08:00

Today we went to visit my friends and their new baby, Fergus.
Here's a picture of Aiden wondering what everyone is cooing about...if not him (he couldn't see Fergus from his carseat.)

Lil Gus is 4 weeks old and so incredibly teeny tiny! I got a chance to hold him, and I was thinking "certainly this is an especially tiny baby" He seemed so microscopic compared to Bruiser Cruiser....I was thinking "he must weigh like 5 pounds. Maybe less?"

Of course, that doesn't even make sense...Less than 5 pounds at 4 weeks old?
C'mon? Really? But it seemed like he was an especially small baby. I certainly never had a baby that small at my house.

Turns out he weighed 9 pounds. About the same as Aiden when he was born.
Seems unbelievable that Monster Mash was ever that small??? Did he ever not smile? Did he ever have those soft mewling cries?

It was kinda funny to see two new parents trying to quiet this tiny squeeking babe.
I wasn't even hearing it as a cry. It was such a small, cute noise compared to the full blood curdling howl that Aiden is now able to unleash on us. His volume definitely goes up to 11 these days.

I asked her how it was going, she asked me a few questions about what it was like when Aiden was first born...and honestly...I have no idea. I just don't remember. At all. I remember moments. No, actually, I don't. I can look at pictures. That's my new memory. A microchip in a camera.

My life is now one time. Aiden time. Whether he's 4 days old or 9 months old...that seems to be the only reality I can deal with (or remember). Anything prior to today is...well...gone.

Dad's Bedtime Routine

2011-03-03T20:55:00.001-08:00

So, four days a week, I'm the bedtime mom. Aiden and I have a 35 minute routine...bath, pajamas, books, rock, bounce, sleep. I'm highly motivated because I eat dinner after he's asleep. So, we're very task-oriented.

Tonight, it was dad's turn.
I told him I'd be waiting on the listening end of the baby-monitor in case he needed backup. (that's our agreement. the lazy parent sits downstairs watching TV...but says "hey, I'm on the monitor. Just let me know if you want me up there.")

I heard a bath running. Walking around.
Then, nothing. I heard quiet (reading? jammies? maybe he fell asleep in the bath? unlikely. but possible?).

Then, I heard giggling. Louder laughter. Hysterical laughter. Hyper-hysterical laughter.

I had to go up and investigate.
Aiden thinks dad is absolutely a riot. Dad is dancing, hopping, clowning. Faster, dad! Faster! More dancing!

Aiden can barely breathe. He's laughing like a nut.
Its an hour past his bedtime.
He's rolling and guffawing his head off having the time of his life as dad dances.

Dance, dad, dance.

We all serve our Baby King Aiden. All hail!

Crib Chewing

2011-03-03T12:34:00.001-08:00

Delicious!

Little Boy Blue

2011-02-26T20:53:00.000-08:00

I guess he looks kinda the same size in both pics...the blue nightshirt was supposed to provide some sense of scale, but...not really working.

Signs, signs, signs

2011-02-25T21:22:00.000-08:00

We're getting a new internet provider tomorrow, so more pictures and video soon.

In the meantime, Aiden is busy cutting 2 teeth at once (bottom, front) and starting to get the mechanics of crawling together. Not in the right order, yet, but he's getting there...so our days are numbered. He looks like a tiny yogi dude doing mini-sun salutations.

Jonathan thinks its time to start Baby Signing, and yes, there's an app for that.
I've always thought BabySign was really cool - a way to communicate with your little one before (and maybe after) they start talking. So, great idea.

Until I had to LEARN BabySigning...
Like I have time for this.

The problem is the iPhone app...here we are, living our lives, and suddenly its like "what's the sign for food?" Detangle from Poopster, get the phone, open the app, find the word if its even listed in the unpaid version (we're cheapies) and watch a woman confidently signing "food! food! food!"

By then, Aiden's life has moved on. And I forget the sign about 35 seconds after I learn it.

The dirty secret is that when I ask other moms about BabySign, they've all cobbled together their own few signs that worked well enough. Maybe that's it. Maybe I trash the app and freestyle all this. Of course, freestyle means I have to remember what I'm making up. Consistency is probably pretty important in devising your own language.

Then, this language MY LANGUAGE has to be taught to Jonathan, the nanny, others in our circle. Or maybe its just a secret mother/son language. I dunno, but I have to figure this out.

Bluebird of Happiness

2011-02-15T09:56:00.000-08:00

Saturday, Aiden and I were at Target, burning off some horrific karma, apparently, as Target on Saturday should be classified as a fresh hell unto itself. (Dante, welcome! Grab a cart and get in on the fun!)

The parking lot was completely full, and many cars were circling waiting for some satiated consumer to trot out with their bags of crap and empty a parking spot. At which time, there was a type of automobile feeding frenzy as 5 cars tried to jam into the vacant space. I parked next to an empty spot, and a woman pulled her car in halfway then started honking me and my cart (which I was unloading my baby son into) was blocking her way from pulling ALL the way in IMMEDIATELY. I moved the cart, but then repositioned my butt in the middle of her spot until I could get Aiden out of his carseat.

BREATH, LADY! Target ain't going to close until 10PM. You'll get your futon cover and no-smear mascara and new flip flops and a Starbucks Trenta Mocha. CHILL!

In Target, I was looking for new jumbo-sized baby clothes for ever-growin' boy. Lots of baby clothes are what Jon called "propaganda" in that they are emblazed with something-something Mom! or Blah-blah DAD! Usually about how mom or dad is the greatest, completely loved, good looking and more. (I guess clothing designers know who holds the debit card).

He was not interested in clothes shopping, so I found a cute bluebird toy for him to chew and play with in the cart.

In a few moments, his super-saliva had disintegrated the cardboard the bird was tied onto...and I could see pieces were becoming snack-sized...so, I jammed the bird off the cardboard, and hooked the bird to the cart.

This little bird allows you to pull it, then it vibrates for about 5 seconds.

So, I showed Aiden - "Look! Pull the bird! It shakes!"

He jumped in surprise and looked utterly terrified.
I tried again - "No, no, not scary! Look, its fun! Look! It shakes!"

He was unconvinced. And looked horrified, moving his body as far away from this creature as possible.

(Now, let me note...this bird was about 3 inches long. Fuzzy and friendly. And designed for the under 2 crowd.)

Okay, fine...no bird...I let it drop, hooked onto the front of the cart.

Aiden wasn't having it. No way he would share a cart with that insane bird! No! No!

He demanded that I carry him out of the cart. Away from the bird. Far away from the bird.

So, I bought a $7.99 soggy cardboard and carried him through the store.
Lesson learned...next time bring a more boring toy from home that I already own.

Roomba vs. baby

2011-02-15T09:54:00.000-08:00

When Roombas Attack.

As you can see...the Roomba really can vacuum around anything.

Really. I am back on it.

2011-02-10T16:27:00.000-08:00

Thanksgiving, Christmas, the obligatory January family cold, family visits, work...not much blogging. So, I'm back. And I'm on it.

Aiden is crawling...or something like crawling. He spreads out flat on his belly then works his way forward using his toes only. Its slow going, but effective. He still has no teeth (just really active saliva glands) and so he's got that great gaping beautiful baby smile. No teeth, just joy radiating out. And, as I mentioned, the slobber.

He keeps outgrowing his clothes.
I thought once we went to 12-months we'd be good....but he keeps growing, damnit!

More to tell...I'll save it for later.

helicopters, helicopters....helicopters

2011-02-10T16:26:00.001-08:00

So, while the boys were here...we did go see some helicopters (of course) and here are a few pictures. I got to see the hanger where Jonathan volunteers...and I got to see why he voluteers so much.

The place is a total man-cave. It has 3 helicopters, a little herd of motorcycles, early 80s classic rock blaring out of a stereo from the late 70s, and the smell of jet fuel in the air.

I'm surprised my sister and I made it out with all four little boys and two husbands.