stupid question

As part of baby-j's Friday morning class, parents are encouraged to do crafts. This usually involves cutting, or folding, or--my favorite--knitting, which I've recently taken up for projects not related to school. I'm not very good at it, but I enjoy how keeping my hands and eyes busy forces me away from the computer. I like doing these crafts; P's not so crazy about it. One of my current projects is a stuffed cat for school, complete with ears and whiskers. I'm almost done; I just needed a last minute consultation. So a few minutes ago, in our living room, I asked P how long he thought the tail should be.

He answered with four successive questions:

Why are you asking me this?

Then, immediately,
Haven't we agreed I suck at crafts?

And,
Do I like cats?

Then,
Am I not grading papers right now?

Um, the man has a point. Not much to say after that.

done!

Hooray! I am officially finished with the research-paper-grading and my final grades have been handed in. Now I can get worried about the upcoming semester instaead of the current one.

ribbon

baby-j and I are alone today: a loooooong day. What did you do with the boy today? P will ask when he returns.

Well, let’s see. There was some holiday cookie baking. There was laundry folding (on my part--baby-j prefers to just throw the laundry down and hump the warm, scented pile). There was an attempt at wrapping Xmas presents. There was much ribbon strewn about. There were a few meltdowns on my end because the child has only napped for 30 minutes total all day and it’s 5:30 and I have about 8 million desperate student research-paper-related emails to which I must respond. And there was the inevitable explanation to baby-j that mommy is just not as good at these long days as daddy, followed by the acknowledgement that, due to my teaching evening classes, daddy’s simply had more practice.

But now he’s singing “Twinkle Twinkle Little Star” while shaking some bells, and all is right with the world. Oh, and I did give him a bath today.

scary sights

We are completely screwed. Last night I was cleaning up in the kitchen while baby-j played in the living room. I heard some movement of the window blinds and ran out of the kitchen to find him kneeling precariously on the arm of the chair, with window blinds in one hand, and a branch of the Christmas tree in the other.

I guess he can climb furniture at this point.

charlie brown

I was reminded that I never did post some of the shots of baby-j as Charlie Brown for Halloween, so here they are. They're not great, though these are the best of the bunch. The rest of them were yellow-and-black-blurs as baby-j whizzed by me.

This was my first attempt at fabric glue, so there was way too much of it, forming a crunchy zig-zag around his belly. This may be why he was never too keen on wearing the shirt. Ah, well... all in good time. I will become The Craftmaster. Oh, yes. I will.

fun stormin' the castle

I am sick. Baby-j is sick. P is not sick yet, but he still has some scary looking poison ivy residue. Blech.

Some new baby-j words, though... like “aff” = “giraffe,” and we heard “goggle” at breakfast. And my favorite one happens at mealtime, when we tell baby-j about the “fire fairies” who light the candle on our table. Now he says Figh...uh, Figh...uh even before he gets in his highchair. It really is quite cute, so I try to prolong the moment by imitating him. Figh...uh, Figh...uh . Unfortunately, my imitation sounds a bit like Carol Kane in The Princess Bride.

bean

baby-j is way into into cannelini beans, and so we've added yet another word this weekend: "Beh-heh-heh." Said, of course, with a growl.

These phonetic spellings leave a bit to be desired. The "heh-heh"s especially might make it seem that we're living with our own little bald Beavis.

baby-j

Don't ask: I'm not sure what he's doing here either.

veggie pie

Whew: that last entry was pretty depressing. Today was a far better day, due in no small part to the fact that baby-j took a 2-hour nap this morning and another 2-hour nap this afternoon. I even had time to make (gasp!) dinner for P and have it waiting when he got home. Such an occurrence is rare, obviously, or I wouldn't be writing about it. I made Savory Potato Pie: I found the recipe a few months ago in my Vegetarian Times Cookbook. I suck at cooking. I'm also only a wanna-be vegetarian. Translated, this means a) that I don't eat red meat and b) I'm too lazy to be a real vegetarian. The only meat I eat on a consistent basis is fish, and I'll occasionally have chicken or turkey, though I'd like to eliminate those altogether. Unfortunately, I've inherited some weird blood sugar issues (ok, my faithful lack of regular exercise has also contributed to these weird blood sugar issues), which means that when I need protein, I need it, and I'm often not prepared or together enough to have vegetarian options at hand. Thus, my laziness = the eating of a turkey or chicken sandwich.

The Savory Potato Pie is pretty good--even P likes it--and it's pretty easy to make. My favorite part about it is the generic reference to something like Boca Crumbles as the ingredient "meat," which is in quotation marks. I was thinking about this usage today as I perused Wikipedia's entry on quotation marks. The entry as of 11pm this evening reads:

One important use of quotation marks is to indicate or call attention to ironic or apologetic words. Ironic quotes can also be called scare, sneer, shock, or distance quotes. Ironic quotes are sometimes gestured in oral speech using air quotes.

Certainly, this reference to air quotes is an important part of the Wikipedia entry: the more I think about it, the more I realize that the air quotes are an essential part of the ironic quotation marks. When I read in my vegetarian recipe that I should stir potatoes and peas into the "meat," my impulse is to extend those four fingers and jab them into the air.

Hmm. Why do I keep going on about the "meat"? Perhaps it is because the use of quotation marks there gives that ingredient emphasis, though it is the potato that should be emphasized; I mean, it's given more credit in the recipe title. But then, I guess Savory "Meat" Pie has all sorts of other connotations.

thinking

Things I don’t want to think about today:

• All the work I have to do
• The fact that I should, right now, being doing this work
• The poison ivy that I underestimated in a previous blog entry
• The fact that this poison ivy has attacked P even more than it has attacked me
• baby-j STILL not being over his ear infection
• The fact that it’s going on a month since he was infected during his brief four-hour stint at stupid-ear-infection-givin’-daycare and he has to go through another round of antibiotics
• How hard it is to revise my dissertation proposal with 100 student papers calling my name each week and an adorable but very active toddler running around
• The fact that I’ve officially been working aforementioned dissertation proposal for a year now
• The fact that I appear doomed to never complete aforementioned dissertation proposal

Can you tell that I’m more than a bit down today? I started this entry with the intent of writing about what I do want to think about today so I don’t have to think of the above. Here’s what it is: baby-j’s pronounciation of the word “pancake” this past Saturday morning (also now known as Pancake-Makin’ Day). Let’s see if I can do it justice...


“Can you say ‘pancake,’ baby-j?”

(said with a growl and, oddly enough, a German accent)
“P-ah-ah-ah-ahn, Kehhh, Kuh. Kuh. Kuh.”

Makes me smile just to think of it.

after the turkey

It was good--albeit quiet--Thanksgiving. At least, it was quiet by Thanksgiving dinner-time. The morning was spent witnessing the festivities going on a few hundred yards away with the big football game between the two high schools in the area. People go crazy for this event. Despite my being momentarily startled by a face at my kitchen window and subsequently running a drunk guy off our property, the morning was a lot of fun.

Me: “Um, is there a reason you’re pissing on the side of my house?”
Drunk Guy: “People haven’t seemed to mind before.”
Neighbor, Watching in Amazement from her Porch: “Really? Where’s that?”
Drunk Guy: (runs off, giving us both the finger)

The last two post-Thanksgiving, pre-back-to-work days have been wonderful, consisting mostly of much playing with baby-j. He’s really gotten into books lately, and not just for eating! He’s taken to pulling half his books off the shelf, and then picking them up, one after another, for me or P to read to him. As much as I enjoy watching baby-j smile when the books are read, I think I enjoy P’s reading of these books even more: from the exasperated puppy-dog voice to the New York accent he’s for some reason given to the toy clown in The Little Engine That Could.

what's that?

I'm not quite sure what baby-j is admiring here: it's either his belly (who wouldn't admire that?) or his new snow boots. No snow yet, but he'll be ready. We can't get him to take the things off whenever he sees them.

P and I spent this past weekend preparing our front yard for Thanksgiving. As noted earlier this year, my previous attempt to do so led to a vicious bout of poison ivy. We waited for the bushes and vines to die a bit before attacking the front yard again, but we knew the PI was still there. I do have a bit on my face and arms (yes, I was covered when working on the front yard), and P has some on his neck, but so far we've managed to escape relatively unscathed.

So the front yard is now a dirt pit. I still think it's better than what was there before (crazy, creepy overgrowth that didn't allow us to walk through to the side of the house), but there's a lot more work to be done. We've now moved inside for our preparations. At first we thought we'd have 9 for Thanksgiving dinner, then 7, and now, only 5, but with P cooking, it shouldn't mattter... it will be delicious. :)

seeds on nuts

I've mentioned before that as a SAHM/WOHM/SAHD/WOHD couple, P and I can learn much about the other's parenting from the daily diaper update.

After a particularly difficult changing session yesterday, I'm wondering if P might ease up on the kiwis with baby-j.

hooray: an icon sans bottle!

It is amazing how pervasive the bottle images are. I was happy to see that the Mothering breastfeeding symbol I voted for won. It's quite a cute image, see?

Hopefully it will be used. Actually, I think I'll use it now on the right here. :)

rough week

It's been a few days since I've last written, primarily because it's been a rough week. Highlights include baby-j going on more antibiotics to fix the ear infection he got at damndaycare, and my brakes locking up on me Wednesday morning on the way to work when the two cars in front of me stopped short, causing me to slam into the car in front of me--a two-week old Honda Civic. Then the wireless went out, and I spent 2 hours on the phone with Linksys to get it back, but P says it's not quite right, and I'm getting sick from baby-j's being sick, and I'm very very worried about a friend at work who's having major health issues.

However, I did get to make some cookies tonight: chocolate chip, P's (current) favorite. I don't know what's up with The Joy of Cooking, but their recipe is basically chocolate chips and butter held together by the smallest amount of flour necessary to make the thing qualify as a cookie.

baby-in-a-bucket

Belly laughs are a good thing.

dates

P and I went out this weekend twice for pre-birthday celebrating. It was crazy, and decadent, and of course it was not without feelings of guilt for leaving baby-j, particularly as he's still somewhat recovering from being sick.

Friday night we went out to see a neighbor perform in his band at a local pub. I had some pumpkin ale, which was quite good, though the highlight of the evening was when the bartender put on the whole Tenacious D album--the old one, not the new one coming out this week. Tenacious D is my favorite band, so it was a very happy birthday surprise. I sang along to the lyrics with the bartender. P and I had a great dinner. We spent the first hour trying to figure out when the last time we'd gone out was, and the second hour thinking about where we might go on our next date, which, at the rate determined by the conversation of the first hour, will take place sometime in March 2008.

Saturday was a shorter evening, though we caught Borat and then went out for Indian food. All in all, a pretty great weekend with the man. And the dates with P were pretty great too. :)

working

Here's baby-j at my laptop. Is this bad? I certainly have higher hopes for him than being chained to the computer, as I typically am...

a beautiful rainy morning

It’s a gloomy, rainy morning and I barely made it to work on time since the commute took 2 hours. But you know what? There are at least 28 reasons to be happy about this morning’s “reshaped political landscape.”

a sickie

I took baby-j to the doctor today because he's been feeling poorly since last week, about the time he went to crappydaycare. (He woke up throwing up and had a fever this morning.) Besides the usual teething issues, he has an ear infection. It's his first, so we're a bit inexperienced in this department. The pediatrician said we were lucky he hasn't had one until now (15 months old). Is it coincidence that he got his first ear infection right after his day at crappydaycare? I think not.

And for anyone keeping track, baby-j's weight seems to be evening out. He is "merely" 31 pounds now. :)

yea, tigers...

So here's baby-j, watching the Tigers with his cool new cap (thanks grandma/grandpa!). So Detroit didn't do so well, we admit, but now baby-j has a new word: hat. Hat. H-hat. As with his beautiful pronunciation of apple, the word begins with a sweet aspiration.

Ok, I admit it: I am a complete sucker for the baby-j-words.

As you can see, it's taken a while for me to get this photo up. With the daycare debacle, we had a rough week. baby-j was sick for most of the week, and is just now starting to get better.

I think I'll have to reference the daycare mess via hyperlinks in each blog entry for a while. It's therapeutic, this referencing, like spitting out the worst parts of my day to P when I get home from work--it's out there, out where it can be dealt with. Who needs daycare anyway? Daycare is really overrated.

Damn daycare. I feel better already.

jack-o

Just had to post a picture of this year's jack-o-lantern. It's been a week since it was carved, and I really need to throw it out... at this point the teeth have shriveled up into the mouth and the thing is generally a gnarled mess. But here's a shot of it in its glory.

I really do love Halloween. We only had about 25 kids come by, but it was the first time in a long time--at least 10 years, maybe longer--that we've been able to give out candy. I guess that comes from a whole lot of apartment-dwelling. baby-j was/is under the weather (we're blaming the daycare since it makes us feel better about his getting kicked out), so there was no trick-or-treating, but we did dress him up as Charlie Brown and he ran to the door each time kids rang the bell. Pics of Charlie Brown will be posted here soon, I hope.

bye bye daycare

A few weeks ago we got a call that baby-j’s number was up--he was being offered a spot in a daycare we visited a while ago. We debated this for a while. He does need more exposure to other children, and we need some more time at home to work. At the same time, we were reluctant to send him. Perhaps it was the dazed look in the other kids’ eyes when we visited last Friday, or perhaps it was the fact that baby-j was bouncing around the room when he got there and trying to hug all the other children he saw. It made us dubious. He gets very excited around other kids, and unfortunately for them, his frequent way of expressing it is a smile and a cuddle, followed quickly and unexpectedly by a bite. His bites are powerful, and this was one of our concerns when we went for a visit.

“What do you do if he bites?” we asked.
“We write a report,” they replied.
“What do you do if he bites again?” we asked.
“We separate him from the other children,” they replied.
“Hmm,” we thought. “Because he has a tendency to bite to show affection,” we said. “At home we have to watch him to make sure he doesn’t do that,” we said.
“We call you to pick him up,” they replied. “If he can’t adapt to our program we do ask that you remove him permanently,” they replied.

It took less than a half-day of daycare for baby-j to get expelled.

After a good morning at home on Monday, P dropped baby-j off at daycare at 12:00. K and I did some discourse analysis of the short reports that are filed after each “incident,” and I encourage you to do your own.

10.30.06

12:30
Your child: bit another child for no reason while playing by the climber.
Therefore we: told him it’s not nice to hurt your friends & to use gentle touches.

According to the daily report, baby-j slept from 12:45 to 3:00. (P and I were pretty impressed with that.) For the time he was awake, he was quite happy, according to one of the women there.

3:35
Your child: bit his friend (it’s his friend now?) on the nose for no reason.
Therefore we: told him to use gentle touches and he was separated from the other children. Parent called.

3:40
Your child: bit his friend both on the arm and face.
Therefore we: told him to use gentle touches and he was separated from the other children. Parent called.

P was indeed called, though at the time he was surprised baby-j made it for almost 4 hours (not realizing that he had slept for 2 ½ of those hours). Later I found out that the woman on the phone called baby-j “vicious.” Vicious. The word keeps playing over and over in my mind. My son is vicious. My 14-month-old son is vicious. I am one of those moms; I am one of those parents. The one with the bullying son.

Wait a second. He’s only 14 months old. I don’t think any baby that young can truly be vicious. Is he “vicious” because he bites “for no reason”? If so, that cannot possibly be the case: everything is done for a reason. baby-j bites to show affection.

This is where I start to get nervous: surely the mothers of serial killers are also able to rationalize their children’s behavior in such ways. But again, he’s only 14 months old.

Can you tell that I’m starting to lose my mind? Monday was an awful day. P was humiliated and I was in tears.

But it isn’t fair to say that baby-j got expelled; that’s like saying that I got kicked out of my sorority in college (for those who haven’t heard it already, that’s another story for another time). I guess you could call what actually happened in both cases a preemptive strike. I talked to the manager of the daycare on the phone yesterday morning, who told me that even though the bruises/wounds on the other children looked “nasty,” they were will to give baby-j another chance--with the understanding that if it happened again, we would have to remove him permanently. I told her to forget about it; we would not be bringing him back. I apologized profusely for his hurting the other children and told her that he’s not ready for daycare yet. He needs closer supervision when around children.

The office manager was quite nice. I told her that perhaps we’d try again there in a few months. Of course, this was before I heard about one of the caregivers using the word “vicious.”

For those of you who are wondering, baby-j is still going to the parent/child class with us on Friday mornings. They have been wonderful for him. He is able to socialize quite well with the other children there, and as the weeks go by he is less tempted to bite. I wonder if the biting to connected to being with unfamiliar people. That is, as with food, he needs a taste of new things--including people--to see what he likes.

There I go with the serial-killer-mom rationalization again. Obviously we need to work on this biting issue before our happy little biter turns our lives into a version of Cannibal! the Musical.

bakin'

I've taken to baking and doing other things around the house on Friday afternoons. It's a needed relaxation after sitting in front of the computer/steering wheel for most of the rest of the week.

Today I made a version of these chocolate with peanut-butter filling cookies (only the ones I made were from my Big Cookie Book). Mmmm.

new words!

Our neighbor L. asked if I have been recording the new baby-j words, and I haven’t, so here are some from the past week:

oval (Heard by both me and K, on separate occasions, when actually looking at an oval!)

f*ckie (We’re not sure what he’s referring to with this one. P. maintains that he’s saying “Frankie,” a reference to a stuffed frog that I named and so baby-j’s new word f*ckie is all my fault.)

ah-ight (Referring to “light,” not some super-cool pronunciation of “alright.”)

up (I think he means “on” when he says this, as in turn “on” the “ah-ight.” So there’s a lot of gesturing to the ceiling and “Ah-ight. Up. Ah-ight. Up.”)

baby-j, you ah-ight up my life.

Ok, time to stop blogging and finish alphabetizing and checking the 300 references for my proposal. I will, I WILL get this damn thing finished this weekend and defended this semester.

bruises, part 2

Ok, so I know this blog will get boring quickly if I keep chronicling baby-j's bruises, as he is likely to have many more of them in the coming months (days? minutes?). So I'll be quick: we had a slight scare last night and almost a trip to the emergency room when baby-j fell down about 6 attic steps. He landed head-first into the wastepaper basket, which I think saved him a bit. No goose-egg on the forehead, but he is now sporting a Harry Potter scar. As long as I know he's going to be ok, the scar is even a bit cute to me.

matching bruises

baby-j’s tendency to flip over benches has us both bruised this week.

Some background: our dining room table is a family “heirloom,” originally used by my grandmother for a dancing school she founded and ran in the 1950s. It’s not a formal table; it’s a sawbuck table with benches on both sides... ok, it’s basically a glorified picnic bench. Even though my grandmother wouldn’t dream of putting it anywhere in her house (she’s an interior decorator for the wealthy and consequently her tastes have changed accordingly), the few times she’s come to visit, she compliments us on it. Well, I guess she’s complimenting herself, as it’s hers. She always reminds us to keep it in the family if we decide not to use it anymore. My family gives us those kind of reminders quite a bit, knowing how our constant moving has turned us into frequent Freecyclers.

Anyway, baby-j likes to pull over the benches and then slide them around the front room of the house, as seen here recently with his cousins. We’ve given up turning the bench back over for the most part and usually leave it upside down, another addition to the kid-inspired décor of the front room. Yesterday morning, the bench was right about where it appears in this picture when, in a tired haze, I ran down the stairs to head into the kitchen and tripped over the corner. I yelped loudly; as a result, baby-j began to cry in his highchair, and P was forced to try and calm both of us down at the same time. I knew that it was bad, but I didn’t realize that when I got to work and took off my sock, I would discover the toe next to my pinkie toe to be black. I don’t know if it’s broken, but from what I hear I guess there’s not much that can be done anyway. My students were remarkably concerned as I taught my classes sitting down yesterday: I’d like to think it was out of genuine concern rather than the appeal of my having to stay home for a few days. Unfortunately for them, my driving foot was not the one affected.

No, it’s my left foot, just like the spider (?) bite that I got this summer. Unlike this summer, however, I’ve made a decision not to risk comments and make any more readers of this blog ill by posting pictures. :)

Apparently, I was not the bench’s only victim. P informs me that a few hours after I limped out the door, baby-j tripped over the bench yesterday while I was at work, giving him a scary-looking bruise on his chest. He seems to be doing well and not harboring any resentment toward the bench, which has already slid back and forth across the room several times today.

diaper update

Most weeks, baby-j splits the time between mom and dad: P and I go in to teach every other day. This ideal has been marred recently as I’ve had to go in, say, four times a week rather than two or three, but in general, baby-j has a “mom day” followed by a “dad day.” Having to cram a full-time teaching load into 2-3 days means that I don’t get home until 9:30 or 10:30 at night. When P has rehearsal, he gets home even later. The inevitable result is that P and I swap abbreviated baby-j updates either late at night or early in the morning. We don’t always have time to share everything.

And since baby-j can’t talk yet, how wonderful that the contents of a diaper tell a story.

I know, for example, that yesterday P must have fed baby-j some corn (a relative newcomer to the baby-j diet), and perhaps some oats. In addition, it looks like baby-j read--or rather, consumed--some kind of story with the word “sleep” in it.

I hasten to add that this is not a criticism of P; I admire his determination to add new foods (i.e., the corn) to baby-j’s diet slowly but consistently. And as for the book page, well, it was a very small piece of paper, especially compared to the entire bar code sticker from Barnes and Noble that we found in his diaper several months back, presumably devoured on my watch.

shake it like a polaroid picture

Yesterday we got baby-j's first pair of hard-soled shoes. (We've gone through a few pair of Robeez already, but we needed something he could wear outside, especially when it's when wet... a few bouts of "pruny feet" settled that.) After an unsuccessful trip trying on shoes at Target, we decided to get his feet measured at an actual shoe store.

So here's the style we got: KX500. Although we didn't plan it, they're New Balance, like his dad's sneakers. Actually, we didn't plan on sneakers at all: we basically bought these shoes like we buy our pre-owned cars. ("...so what are the cheapest ones you have in the store?") He'll be in a bigger size in 3 months anyway.

After realizing that these would be his first hard-soled shoes, a few tears were shed (by me--what a wuss I am), and the salesperson took a Polaroid photo of baby-j that went immediately in their custom "First Steps" card, with his name, date, brand, and size. (For what it's worth, baby-j is a size 7 extra wide. Yikes!) The shoe store has got the marketing down, haven't they?

stage four

I've been known to take many a photo-shoot of baby-j.

There are several stages involved in the baby photo-shoot. Stage One, or "Camera on the Other Side of the Room," features full-length shots (as seen in nice legs). Stages Two and Three, those that I like to refer to as "Bewildered Candids" and "Wandering Towards Mom," produce the best shots, featuring a purposeful baby-j, usually with toy or half-eaten book still in hand.

This is baby-j in Stage Four, otherwise known as "Camera Attack." Half-eaten books are forgotten at this point.

Photos taken in Stage Five, or "Camera Grab," are often deleted immediately after being downloaded from the camera. They typically depict a blurry bald head and a flash of teeth.

tennis, anyone?

Today baby-j and I went to the outdoor tennis courts, which are a block away and a recent discovery of mine. I mean, there are large signs all around them that state they are for the students and faculty of the local college, so prior to this week, who was I to intrude? But a walk with a neighbor and her dog--during which we entered aforementioned unlocked tennis courts--showed me that there is a very cool space to walk around with (i.e., to exhaust) baby-j.

By the way, I love this, this walking with a neighbor and her dog. I have never felt such a sense of community in my life since moving here... which means, of course, that we are soon destined to move yet again.

Back to the tennis courts. We were there for an hour, engaging in baby-j’s favorite activities, which include chomping on leaves, twigs, and old Powerbar wrappers; giggling while chasing his shadow; and kicking his blue mini-soccer ball which P. purchased on a whim during a Target trip many months ago.

P. is in the city now, rehearsing for one of his many projects. And I must stop blogging in a second, as I prepare for a chat with my online students while keeping one ear alert for baby-j, who is soon to wake up from his post-tennis court nap.

nice legs

Those are some nice legs.

I really can’t get over baby-j’s legs sometimes. They’re just so... lumpy. They’re wonderful. Sometimes I worry about how large he is. I mean, he is large for his age, but not in an eatin’-Doritos-all-day-long kind of way. He’s strong. When I look at him, I’m reminded of my own younger days, particularly when, at fourteen, I spied the notes my pediatrician had written in my file about me at age 10: This is a girl who is large for her age. I know he didn’t mean “fat,” not quite... he meant tall, and thick. But it was shocking, reading that line about me in the folder. In one sense, it was yet another factor contributing to the body/self-loathing that was to come in college. I think it was more than that, though. Reading that line, it dawned on me that in the eyes of a doctor, I was no more than a subject, a body to be analyzed and dissected. And so now, I want to acknowledge that baby-j is--will always be--much more than his beautiful, delicious, chunky body.

P and baby-j just finished watching Wedding Crashers on cable. Now they’re dancing together around the living room singing to The Long Winters. It’s a good, happy Saturday night.

a is for apple

P and I are officially recording baby-j's first word as "apple."

Sure, he's said a lot of "da-das" and even "ex-ee." But last week, at our first parent/child class, the teacher passed around a morning snack of sliced apples, and without even prompting, it came: App-uh. App-uh.

It is the mark of a parent when the word takes on a life of its own. P said he never realized how beautiful, how textured the word apple really is. And it is. Isn't it? :)

car-ful o' fun

This has been our first full week back at work, and I don’t know about baby-j, but it’s sure been rough on his parents. Especially when his mom’s car threatens to break down.

Forty-five minutes into my ninety-minute commute Monday, my car started shimmying and shaking, especially when accelerating. Thankfully, I was able to make it to work and back Monday. (Though I was going 50 mph in the right lane with my hazards on… and those damn NJ drivers were still on my ass. I mean, what do you have to do to just get those suicidal drivers to pass you?)

We took the car in to the shop Tuesday morning. Unfortunately, both P and I had to go to work. So he headed off in his car, and I rented a car. The only car that Enterprise had available? A big blue pick-up truck. New and beautiful, but still: a huge truck, particularly for someone who avoids large cars (ok, mostly SUVs) as a general rule.

Yes-indeedy, I looked mighty cool rollin’ into work.

Luckily, the shop said all we needed was a tune-up (rather than a new transmission, which would have meant P and I would be looking for a new car). So we got the car back Tuesday night and dropped off the rental truck. I won’t mention that P got pulled over by the cops in my car on the way to drop off the rental. ;) I mean, he was speeding for good reason--testing out the engine on my car. Luckily the officer took pity on him and gave him a warning. Otherwise, that would have been one of the most expensive days in the history of our relationship.

But Wednesday was much better. I had a productive day at work, and it sounds like P had a good day at home with baby-j. It warms my heart just to think about it. At the risk of sounding like a complete sap, I cannot imagine P being a better dad for the j-man.

a photo a day...

I've been having great fun exploring YouTube (yes, I'm often late to the hip Web sites that the young people enjoy these days). I like to fool myself by saying that it's all for school and research--that's partly true, as I'm going to require students to use hyperlinks, images, and video in their research papers this semester. However, I've been enjoying YouTube on its own. Last night, I was looking at this one:

Noah takes a photo of himself everyday for 6 years.

It's nice. But then, after looking at the above, you have to check out a review at this link:

Re: Noah takes a photo of himself everyday for 6 years.

And then, when you get pretty slap-happy, try this:

Phil takes a photo of himself everyday for 2 days.

Minutes of enjoyment for me and P last night, I tell you.

sweepin' up

Well, I'm back at work and I can tell already that it's going to tough to keep up with the blogging when I'm grading papers for 4 different writing classes. But I promise to try. The issue is that I'm also writing to my other blog for dissertation purposes, so it's hard to keep all these things straight in my head.

baby-j is starting school next week! Ok, so it's not school-school: it's a parent-child class one day a week and I'll be with him, which is definitely a good thing, since he still enjoys nibbling on other children. (We need to work on that.) We got a letter in the mail from the school yesterday explaining how the class will run. I'm very nervous about it, because the class encourages the adults to work on "purposeful activity" (like various crafts) while the children wander about freely and help as they can. However, we're also expected to maintain responsibility for our child, which I fear means that my "purposeful activity" will entail running around the room after baby-j so he doesn't eat another child.

If he has something to do, though, he should be ok. One of the activities is cleaning (yes, we're paying to clean together), and baby-j does love sweeping. This is a picture of him sweeping up while we were on vacation in MI. Apparently, once he got a taste of how exciting sweeping can be, he was hooked. We have a Swiffer at home that I use occasionally. (Ok, I use it rarely--so rarely that I've had the same box of Swiffer cloths for at least 3 years. Using that much paper to clean is bad for the environment anyway... yeah, that's why I haven't used them).

Ahem. Anyway, baby-j will grab that Swiffer and just won't let go. K (our amazing babysitter) said that this week, when she tried to take it away in order to put him in his highchair, he wailed hysterically.

Don't try to separate a baby and his broom.

babylegs

Wow: it's gotten cold(er) here over the past two days, making it difficult to pretend I don't have to go back to teach next week. It already feels like fall. There are good things about fall, though: the first of which is that baby-j can wear things like his babylegs. These things are supposed to be "one size fits all," but honestly, baby-j has some chunky thighs that challenge such a declaration. Since they roll down his thighs, the babylegs look more like legwarmers, particularly his "funky green jester" ones.

He's also getting more accomplished as a walker. I'm not quite used to how fast he moves. Today I mistakenly left the bedroom door open to dispose of the goodies he left in his cloth diaper, only to turn back and see him quickly waddling towards the stairs. He was giggling, holding a shoebox through which he had just gnawed a hole. And he was wearing only a diaper and some babylegs.

I think it's the teeth--when he grins maniacally you see the gap between the front two teeth and the gums above them--that make surprising moments like that hilarious for his parents.

costumes

Is it too early to be thinking about Halloween costumes? According to the various Web sites I've looked at, it may be too late. The chili-pepper bunting suits and yoda ears for toddlers are just flying off the shelves. P and I are considering dressing baby-j as Charlie Brown, since he's already got the hairstyle licked. Also, he wouldn't have to wear anything on his head. As you can see from last year's Halloween picture, he wasn't too into wearing things on his head. Or being dressed as a peapod. Not that I blame him. (The peapod costume was a gift, and not my idea.)

But I cannot seem to find an already-made Charlie Brown T-shirt. Guess I'll have to make it. I'm thinking fabric glue.

death of a tree

This morning at 8am our street was visited by Jim’s Tree Service; they were there to remove the tree in front of the house across the street. Our neighbor M came over for the first time yesterday to let us know (primarily so P could move his car). It was good to know in advance. It’s good to have some warning. It’s for safety reasons, as the tree dips precariously over the street, and there’s a concern it would fall on children (or adults… that would be bad, too, no?). Having had a retaining wall collapse and demolish our car when we lived in the Bronx, I understand such risk. I understand why this must be done. But still.

Is baby-j too young to witness such a death? I suppose the point is moot, since I let him. At first, he started pounding on the window. He screeched and yelped at the machines. Then, after a few minutes, he returned to his morning ritual of searching for (and eventually putting in his mouth) small pieces of garbage on the floor that are too small for adults to see.

I’d never watched a tree being removed before, so I had no idea what a time-consuming process it is. They chainsaw the branches off first--in the case of the longer, thicker ones, cutting them in 2-foot sections, then dropping them three stories to the street below. Once dropped, they are immediately thrown to the woodchipper. Soon the branches are removed, leaving a bald trunk that gives a first glimpse of what this street will be like without this tree. Then, the trunk is sawed off from the top, piece-by-piece, each one lassoed by rope and then gently hoisted off the top to glide down to the ground.

Oh, tree, I hardly knew ye. But there is something haunting about this absence. For a hundred years (or more?), that existing space was all tree, and now it is just space. There are things we can see that we couldn’t before. In that sense, it’s much like the end of autumn, when everything is laid bare.

dumps like a truck

baby-j has gotten several dump truck and digger-type vehicles lately, and he loves them. The latest one was given to him yesterday by our (wonderful) neighbors--the Fisher-Price "Little People" Dump Truck.

Each time he gets one of these "vroom-vroom" toys, I start thinking about gender, and find myself amazed that people can possibly deny that the differences between boys and girls are nurtured at an early age by culture. baby-j is only 1, but he's been exposed to all things "boy" from the moment he was born despite our resistance. I try to comfort myself in these moments by telling myself that if we'd had a little girl, she would be exposed to the same kind and amount of "vroom-vroom" toys, though of course that probably wouldn't be the case as P and I are never the ones to buy toys--they are usually gifts. (Of course, if we were to have a second child who was a girl, she'd have access to all of baby-j's old toys...)

Anyway, back to the dump truck. It's pretty fun, and I love that there's actually a shit-colored piece of crap that can be dumped out of the truck. My issue is not with the truck, but rather, with the packaging that encourages you to buy other Fisher-Price "Little Vehicles," including the one pictured here.

It's the Lil' Movers SUV. That's right. And it comes complete with mom and baby. Looking at the product description, you'll see that kids can "recreate the familiar experience of riding around with mom!" Developmental benefits include "early role play: being the mom figure"! So not only are we teaching young girls that they want to be moms, but that they need the SUV to do it. (Not that there's anything wrong with wanting to be a mom--hell, I wanted that--but where are the vehicles encouraging boys to be fathers?)

I showed this to P, who was not impressed: "What else do you expect?" As usual, he's right (but don't tell him I wrote that). :)

Sigh. Resistance is not only futile, but also quite depressing.

neighborhood walk

One of the reasons P and I decided to buy a house was this neighborhood. It’s a college neighborhood that’s relatively quiet; it has beautiful houses that are diverse in both price and style, houses that are often more than 100 years old. We love the walking here.

So baby-j and I went on one of our evening excursions, with him chattering away the entire time. I am uncertain how exactly to handle his “talking” while I’m pushing him in a stroller. I want to reassure him that I’m close by, so I’ll often respond with:
“Really? You don’t say.”
“Tell me more.”
“What do you really think?”

This is fun for about 10 minutes. After this point, I run out of responses to his monologue. Complicating things lately is baby-j’s tendency to move beyond cute baby gurgles and into yelps and groans, rather loudly, as we march up and down the street. Blehhhhhch, he croaks. Then, louder and more insistent. Blehhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhch. Blehhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhch!! He starts to sound a bit demonic, which has the unintended effect of making my responses even more ridiculous, as if I’m the only one who can understand the secret, scary language.

dissertation update

Ok, I know this is not as interesting as cute toddler info, but I just have to submit an update here: my dissertation proposal is, in my advisor's words, "in very good shape." I have work to do, but it may just be manageable. This is a big deal for me, especially as I've been both
a) waiting for a bit for this good news, and
b) hoping beyond hopes that I can defend the proposal this fall. Then I "get" to write the dissertation. (The proposal itself is 60 pages, so it's a decent start once it's been accepted.)

Ok, baby-j and I are going to do a dance in honor of this exciting news. He doesn't know what he's boogying for, but still. He's adorable.

pots and pans

Thought I'd post this picture that P got about a month back. What is up with the opening of cabinets? baby-j is way into them; I just assume that most babies/toddlers are. He loves opening doors and pulling crap out: in this case, all of P's pots and pans. Though we've been here almost four months, there's still quite a bit to do, including some baby-proofing. Not latching cabinet doors--that would make too much sense--but rather, attaching cabinets to walls so baby-j doesn't pull them down on himself. There have been a couple of instances of baby-j almost being crushed by cheap, filmsy cabinetry in his room... but both were caught in time. I never knew I could move so fast. Once, in my younger days, I climbed aboard my father's running lawnmower and the thing took off in the backyard. I never saw your father hustle so fast, is what my mother always says.

they say it's your birthday...

baby-j had a pretty good one, even though the major activity of the day was to go to the pediatric opthamologist to check out this bubble on his left eye. It turns out it's a little bacterial infection and we were given some eye drops to handle the situation. Should be gone in a few days.

Then we had some friends over, including baby-j's babysitter K, who is just wonderful. She got him a slew of presents and a couple balloons. baby-j was great at ripping open the paper (and subsequently eating it).

We're not really doing the cake thing--trying to cut down on baby-j's sugar intake due to my family's history of diabetes. (We'll give him sugar eventually, just waiting as long as we can.) But we did stick a candle in the pie that our guests brought as sang "Happy Birthday" to him. Once we all finished, he looked around for a moment, and promptly began to cry. Guess all this birthday stuff is exhausting.

despite all my rage...

I am still just a baby in a cage.

what did you do on summer vacation?

If you're baby-j, you learned to walk! Consistently, that is. He was walking on all sorts of rough terrain when we were in Northern MI--grass, dirt, sand, concrete, uphill, downhill... coming home and walking around on carpet is now a breeze for him. Our living area is baby-proofed, but the walking is somewhat of a new adventure. So many new and exciting ways for baby-j to crack his head open.

In other news, P and I determined that it was a year ago tonight that my water broke and, consequently, I went into labor. It was 9pm, and Law and Order had just come on. Dun-Dun.

*what i've read recently...

This is where I keep track of the books I've read so I can remember them and link to Amazon reviews. As you can see, I don't get much reading done during the school year. :)

7/2007:
Consider the Lobster, David Foster Wallace
Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince, J.K. Rowling (again, in preparation for Book 7!)

4/2007:
The Westing Game, Ellen Raskin

3/2007:
Heaven on Earth, Sharifa Oppenheimer

2/2007:
Broken As Things Are, Martha Witt

9/2006:
Apex Hides the Hurt, Colson Whitehead
Mothering Your Nursing Toddler, Norma Jane Bumgarner

Northern MI "by the lake" reading, August 2006:

The Plot Against America, Philip Roth
Morvern Callar, Alan Warner
The Year of Magical Thinking, Joan Didion
Without a Net, Michelle Kennedy
On Beauty, Zadie Smith
Teacher Man, Frank McCourt

Books I've read in the last couple years:
Moo, Jane Smiley
Good Faith, Jane Smiley
Caucasia, Danzy Senna
Fast Food Nation, Eric Schlosser
The Amazing Adventures of Kavalier and Clay, Michael Chabon
Life of Pi, Yann Martel
Portnoy’s Complaint, Philip Roth
Straight Man, Richard Russo
Empire Falls, Richard Russo
Wicked, Gregory Maguire
Blink, Malcolm Gladwell
Feed, M.T. Anderson
Everything is Illuminated, Jonathan Safran Foer
Extremely Loud and Incredibly Close, Jonathan Safran Foer (MY CURRENT FAVORITE BOOK!)
Kite Runner, Khaled Hosseini
A Heartbreaking Work of Staggering Genius, Dave Eggers
Harry Potter and the Sorcerer's Stone, J.K. Rowling
Harry Potter and the Chamber of Secrets, J.K. Rowling
Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban, J.K. Rowling
Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire, J.K. Rowling
Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix, J.K. Rowling
Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince, J.K. Rowling

some first steps

engagement

My brother got engaged this past week. That’s the message he left on my cell phone: “I got engaged last night,” in a stunned voice, as though it were something that just happened rather than an event for which he’s been preparing for several months. I don’t fault him for this; despite my poor feelings about weddings (which I will write about here at some point), engagements are, it seems to me, those kinds of moments that, whether or not you remember them, set up a course for your life. You know that in the future you’ll look back on that moment, maybe not because of what happened that day, but what it enabled to happen later.

P and I got engaged on October 16, 1998. It was, I believe, a Friday, but beyond that I’m not sure why I remember that date. The night we got engaged we went to a restaurant that was a bit out of our league, or at least we both thought so at the time.

We sat at one of the many tables for two sandwiched about a foot and a half apart along a bench that ran almost the length of the restaurant. Perhaps the couple next to us was drunk. Why else would they, knowing that we were a mere 18 inches from them, have denigrated our choice of bread loud enough for us to hear? (“Can you believe they ordered the dill rather than the rosemary?”) Another overheard whisper from this couple, as he clasped her hands on the table and looked into her eyes: “I love that we come here all the time.”

We belong. You do not.

I used to get angry thinking about that memory, but now I realize that memory is one way that night has stayed with me. What better way to recall the camaraderie that P and I shared over being amused by these folks? It is that moment that allows me to remember that night, not some awestruck memory of the Staten Island Ferry where P produced the ring 90 minutes before.

underwear do's and don'ts

Scene: just before dinner time, outside with my in-laws. It is HOT here, despite our being in Northern Michigan! All my shorts are dirty (and I mean wet, sandy, and crunchy, not just dirty from having been worn a few times), and I am unsuccessfully trying to roll up a pair of longer Capri pants that I have so I can at least breathe during dinner. “I wish I had some shorts to wear,” I sigh.

P helpfully suggests, “Why don’t you wear boxers? You can wear some of mine.”

I seriously consider this for a second before realizing how strange that will look, eating with my in-laws, outside, wearing boxers. “To dinner?” I ask. He thinks for a second. “Well, over your panties, of course.”

At this point one of my SILs and I break out laughing.

On warm nights actually, this is my pajama ensemble of choice—boxers over underwear, and a T-shirt a few sizes too big. P knows this, which is of course why he suggests this. But there is, I think, something about the word “panties” that makes such an outfit seem much more intimate that it looks. My grandmother used this word a lot when my cousins were little… for all I know she used it when my brother and I were little, too. She used it not just for underwear, but to infantilize both the word “pants” and the inhabitant of said pants, whether that inhabitant were male or female. “Gotta put those PANT-ies ON!” she would say with a little jostle of her fists.

One of baby-j’s favorite books right now is by Todd Parr: Underwear Do's and Don’ts (regardless of the strange punctuation). The first line? “Do have lots of different kinds of underwear. Don’t wear it all at once.”

lavender

On vacation, we went to the health store today. I had baby-j in the sling, close to me, and he’s usually pretty protected that way. Unfortunately, I was too absorbed in looking at the various vials and bottles, and the aisle was a bit too close. baby-j started swinging his hand out and I caught his arm as he knocked some bottles over on a shelf. It happened too quickly but also in slow-motion-an-accident-is-about-to-happen mode: my noticing that he had knocked over some bottles, checking immediately to see what they cost, realizing that in the sea of $7 herbs, one had a $30 price tag. Not sure what would resolve the situation—stopping baby-j or stopping the bottles from rolling—I froze, doing neither. The lavender vial—yes, the $30 one—fell to the floor. Glass and scent all over.

The woman in charge of the place was understanding, and despite my and P’s protests, she didn’t charge us for it. But my canvas tennis shoes smell like lavender now.

writing and scooting

The writing here has been a bit sparse the last few days because I am desperately trying to write for school... If I can get a draft of my dissertation proposal in to my advisor by tomorrow, I will feel so much relief on our Michigan vacation. (And then I can focus on prepping for school while on vacation. I know, that's sort of cheating on the "vacation" part, but the summer is slipping away from me.) I am almost there: just a little bit more tweaking and it will be ready for my advisor to rip it apart. :)

In other news, baby-j can understand some of what we say! Well, ok, he understands "scoot-scoot," which is what we say when he's on the bed that serves as his changing table (more like the changing gym, since trying to put a diaper on him while he crawls around requires strong arms and a lot of space). We're trying to get him to back down off of the bed rather than plunging head-first.

"Scoot, scoot!" And he stops moving for a second before he wiggles around to back down off the bed.

Of course, this isn't quite as effective when he's diaper-free, as he's starting to enjoy hanging off of the bed, giggling, with a naked tush in the air.

heeding smokey bear's call

Seen recently on a trip back from my parent's house: a billboard for the Smokey Bear Campaign...

"Only _________ (your name here) can prevent wildfires."

Some industrious kid with spraypaint filled in the blank.

Now, apparently, only Josh can prevent wildfires.

first steps

Ok, so it's official now: baby-j has taken his first steps.

He's been getting ready to do it for a while, tentatively reaching out with one foot to take a step and then falling. I was actually a bit concerned he'd do it when P was gone this past week. But he decided to begin to walk tonight, at a Holistic Moms Network meeting, in the middle of a circle of about 20 sitting adults (and children of assorted ages). We were trying to let him explore enough so that he could learn from the experience (but not to the point of gnawing the faces of other children, which seems to be his current impulse). I was holding his hand, letting him walk forward in the circle, expecting him to drop down and crawl to the nearest child (before thwarting the face-gnawing impulse). But he let go... and this time he stepped forward on his own, for about 5 or 6 wobbly steps before he fell. Someone asked if it was his first time walking, probably because my face showed it.

He hasn't done more walking yet at home, but I'm sure the steps will come again soon. This childhood stuff goes way too freakin' fast.

up north

P, baby-j, and I are getting ready for the yearly trip to Northern Michigan, which is always a huge treat... I would say "for us," but it's baby-j's first trip there. P and I actually haven't been in two years, as last year I was very very pregnant with baby-j. So we're looking forward to what we envision will be the first of many Northern Michigan trips *with* baby-j.

And it's got to be cooler than here. We've had, like most of the Northeast, record heat this week topping the 100s. baby-j loves the fan: his Gram has taught him that one should go "AHHHHHHH!" and lean back with one outstretched arm every time one sees a ceiling fan. He now does this "AHHHHHHH!" every time he sees a ceiling fan. And he's started doing it elsewhere as well. The latest has been after nursing. Sip, sip, sip... lean back with outstreched arm and "AHHHHHHHHH!" That kid is pretty damn funny.

england

P headed out today for England, leaving me and baby-j to fend for ourselves at gram's.

It's sad, this leaving. On the other hand, I'm so excited for P--such a big presentation for him, and he hasn't been overseas in a long time. Come to think of it, neither have I... not since my illustrious Switzerland trip of 2001. I still remember coming home to P in the airport. He'd made up a sign as if he were my driver, with my last name scrawled in all capital letters on it.

baby-j is happily playing as I type. Many, many toys are here in the family room, but what is he playing with? A fly-swatter and a yoga mat.

swimmy fish

We’re spending some time at the shore with pardeepantsmom and pardeepantsdad. Happily, our friends D and N have visited us (twice in a week!) to spend a couple days.

baby-j went in the ocean for the first time yesterday, and he wasn’t scared. The first time he went to the pool he wasn’t scared either. pardeepantsmom took baby-j in at the pool near her condo, and there was a woman who asked how old baby-j was. “10 months,” I said. “Mine loved the water at that age,” she said. “The next year, he hated it.”

Do people realize how they sound, I wonder? That she’s just implied that baby-j will also soon learn to hate water?

As usual, perhaps I am simply being too sensitive. Water and swimming are a big part of my (good) childhood memories, and baby-j’s uncle and great-aunt are both competitive swimmers, so it’s a big deal to me that baby-j enjoy water. And of course, P will jump into any body of water, no matter how cold. That man is an animal. :)

bucket singin'

Our boy is brilliant, truly. Check out his vocal stylings in this short video clip.

According to P, he was doing this for several minutes before P got to the camera.

anti-magnet

This site is way too funny.


Go and at least read the FAQs if you don't buy a sticker and put it on your car.

nobody puts baby in the corner...

...except baby.

This is a shot of baby-j, in the corner of his room, where I've unwittingly interrupted him. He's taken to playing on the floor (translation: pulling crap out of floor-high cabinets in his room)... then suddenly crawling to this corner, where he gets quiet. Too quiet. Took me a while before I realized he was takin' care of business there. Sorry, man. Didn't mean to interrupt.

happy fourth

I'm sitting here trying to recall memorable July 4ths of my childhood, and I can't. I do recall setting off sparklers in my grandmother's driveway in Jersey, but no such action after my tenth year (once we moved to Michigan). It may be a state law thing. I know that Pennsylvania permits them... there are makeshift booths and signs for them all over the place. People seem to love their fireworks here in PA. That, and seasonal flags.

Anyway, we had a lovely day with our dear friends D and N, as well as our new neighbors--L, S, and B. However, I did go for a morning walk around the neighborhood with N and got a bee sting on my toe... the same damn foot that had/has the bite. I mean, what the hell? As D said, I'm in a war with nature lately, and "nature's winning."

attic

ever have that
feeling
you're moving around the same
old
shit?

Now off to clean up the office.

the flood of '06

This is a picture of what used to be our local pool. See the yellow slides behind the park benches? Those used to enter into the pool. Now they enter into the river.

This summer is not turning out to be as expected. And just as my foot is getting better--better enough that (dare I say it?) I might be able to enter water before the summer is out.

Of course, it probably won't be chlorinated water, at least that of the local pool.

But the foot is better. And I've updated my foot bite pictures for those of you who are into that sort of thing. It really is amazing how quickly the wound has healed.

applause

baby-j started clapping his hands together over a month ago now, but in the last few weeks, he's stopped. The applause returned yesterday. His latest game is nursing for a few seconds, then bolting upright and clapping his hands... then nursing again for a few seconds, then bolting upright and clapping his hands again. And on and on... What does it mean? "Yea, boobies?" :)

foot boot and go-carts

Just returned from the Wound Center--the wound is healing very very well. It's hard to believe the difference in just a week. Now I basically only have a bite mark and the remnants of a big blister to take care of. Whoo-hoo!

And they gave me a cool surgical boot to wear, so I don't have to wander the streets (ok, the grocery store) wearing an old flowered slipper on my left foot. Actually, I've been using the motorized carts the last few times at the grocery store, following P and baby-j around the store. It looks pretty cool, let me tell you. P has been good about humoring this and will sometimes give me errands to "run" in my cart (i.e., "Why don't you get some toothpaste and catch up with us?"). Hmmm. Now that I think about it, is it that he's trying to make me feel useful, or is he just embarassed to be seen with a strange woman--who has nothing in her cart--following six inches behind him all around the store?

backyard garden

pardeepants, what does your garden* grow?

ivy patch
azalea
bee balm
hosta
lilac
baby's breath
vine
rose bush
lady's mantle
coneflower
japanese strife
rose bush
rose of sharon
lemon balm

Note: As I cannot garden to save my life (at least yet), all credit for the current state of the garden has to go to my MIL and FIL. :)

bite pictures

Ok, so here goes--some pictures from my brown recluse spider bite, tracking the progress of said bite from June 16 to June 24.

Warning: these are not for the faint-of-heart. Or anyone in the midst of eating.

Click here for photos of my (nasty) foot bite.

up and up

Feeling much much better today... the wound is even starting to itch, so I'm taking that as a sign of healing. This is a very good thing, as I had expected to be healing for a few months, and the faster my foot heals, the more likely I'll be able to play with baby-j in the water by the end of the summer.

Speaking of baby-j, he's been standing much more consistently on his own--for a few seconds here and there--without support from furniture. Yesterday, I saw him stretch forward for one little step before immediately falling on his butt. Good thing he has so much "padding" there. :) And those thighs...!

So I'm testing out my new Photobucket account here:

baby-j is up to something
baby-j will attack you

ailments

I am so grateful that my in-laws are here; they've been doing amazing work in our backyard the last few days. Yesterday, their presence was a blessing as well since P. and I were at the Wound Center and then the dermatologist all morning--as well as a good part of the afternoon--and they were able to look after baby-j.

The Wound Center was wonderful, though there was a moment yesterday when I thought I'd have to stop breastfeeding due to the topical antibiotic I was prescribed for the bite. However, after checking it out with the pediatrician, I can take the medication--cautiously, of course. There's now also a nasty water blister above the bite, and it turns out that many of the pustules (I know, it's disgusting) around the wound are probably poison ivy. Said pustules are also on my right arm, right leg and ankle, and now my stomach and some of my chest. The dermatologist prescribed a steroid cream for that--also safe for breastfeeding, according to his instructions, but again with caution.

This morning I still feel terrible, but at least I know we've amped up the treatment. P. found some spots on baby-j that we think may be poison ivy, though on the phone the pediatrician says it's unlikely... but to contact her if it gets worse.

Can this situation get any worse? I didn't think so a few days ago, but now I'm not so confident.

the brown recluse

Ok, so since my last post I've been to the ER again and in a few minutes will head out to see the doctor.

It wasn't a tick bite. It was a spider bite. A brown recluse spider. No, we didn't see it, but my bite looks like the ones you can find on the Web under such a search, and the nurse and doctor at the ER took one look and diagnosed it as such. I've been taking pictures which I may or may not post here, since they're pretty nasty. And to top it all off, the "poison ivy" has been getting worse, so now I'm headed in to see if it's connected to the bite and I need a new brand of antibiotic.

Double ugh.

tick bites

An interesting morning... Upon finding out that my family doctor is out of town, I went to the local hospital to have them check out my left foot, which, since Sunday, has had a nasty, growing insect bite that has the potential to be a tick bite. We're not sure if it is or not, though they've diagnosed me as having a tick bite and I'm on antibiotics for two weeks to prevent lyme disease. I'm also developing rashes on my arm and--oddly enough--my forehead. And I'm getting sick. Lyme disease, or just a spider bite, poison ivy, and a cold all hitting me at the same time? Who knows?

Ugh.

breastfeed or else

A link to yesterday's New York Times article about the new campaign for breastfeeding:

Breastfeed or Else

As often happens with NY Times articles that I miss, P. informed me about this one. It's pretty good and pretty balanced about BFing, though I do hate that the mothers interviewed are the extreme--the mom who basically gives up her life in order to breastfeed her kids on one hand, and the mom who feels guilty about "not producing enough milk" (whether or not this is actually the case is not clear... actually seems like she had a misinformed pediatrician in the article). Anyway, it brought up conversation for us (for us new parents, serious conversation is now limited to whispers in the dark so that the babe doesn't wake up). :)

baby-j and I went to an LLL meeting this morning, so that is, I'm sure, why a lot of this is on my mind.

renovation

And we thought we were the only ones doing work... this week Lafayette started renovations on their football field:

http://goleopards.cstv.com/sports/m-footbl/spec-rel/012406aad.html

There are many contractors in the area, so I guess we thought the first loud sounds we started hearing this week were coming from one of the houses in the neighborhood, but... nope. If I look out my window now, I see a whole lotta dirt-digging going on, and a whole lotta dirt. Where there was once a wall, there is now some action. This neighborhood isn't exactly quiet, but this is a bit much. Is this how such resentment between a college and its nearby residents begins?

babyurn

Play, anyone?

You gotta wonder what kind of parents stick their baby in an urn to take pictures. I feel part guilt, part glee, part Anne Geddes.

the chocolate factory

Almost there... P is in the city now for what will be the last performance of his show. I saw it last night and it was fabulous. My hubby knows him some Beckett. Although it was the piece with which I was previously least familiar, I really enjoyed Play. It's just so intense, pointing out (imho) those things that we obsess over in life, and how, ultimately, they're just not that important. Soon we'll be in urns...

And it helped that we had to stand through the thing in a basement where the rain was pounding in on the windows. It was great. My mouth was open almost the whole time.

My hubby rocks.

before and after shots

So here's a pic of the newly renovated attic, contrasted with the "before" shot. I promised you such a shot, and I did deliver... well, actually, P did. The attic has since been carpeted and we have a bunch of boxes up there that have yet to be unpacked, but you get the idea.

And Pardee-life continues...

my new plan

Has it really been so long since I logged an entry? Well, we were moving, so I have an excuse, I suppose. Now that my home office is newly carpeted, I can finally unpack my books, which is the sign that I'm getting settled. Just a few more book boxes to unpack...

The new plan, according to P. and my advisor (and me--did I forget to say me?) is that I should be able to complete the dissertation in a year and a half. A year and a half. Just saying it makes me nervous. But I am inspired by the recent graduations, including the one I will attend tomorrow as a faculty member. I want to finish, I want to no longer be looking forward to a graduation where I will be graduating. I think I'm ready for it to be behind me. Now I just have to write the damn thing. Hmm.

the pacifist

P informs me that some version of this picture is up in his office at work. Not to be confused with Vin Diesel, of course. baby-j looks especially crazy here, which is sort of how he is at night when we try to get him to go to bed. Oh, who am I kidding? He's like this morning, noon, and night, which is part of why he's so great.

moving day

Moving Day is quickly approaching and we have so much to do until then! The attic is getting finished slowly but surely. I have to say that I am so impressed with P. He's been working so hard to get it ready for us. Check out the "before" photo; the soon-to-be posted "after" shot will be much more impressive. :)

This is the third time we've moved in two years (yikes!), and each time has been in April/May. There's something exciting about moving--I've always loved it--but this time is admittedly more difficult than times in the past. Trying to get things cleaned up with an 8-month-old in tow is not easy. But even so, I have to say that moving is always appealing to me. The idea of starting over in a new space brings with it such possibility. It's probably connected to my perceived appeal about teaching, in which I start afresh each new September (and, as a college teacher, each January as well) and erase old memories, old grades, old students, old furniture.

morning people

It's morning, I'm trying to do work, and all I can think about is just how sweet baby-j is. He's currently munching on a book and eyeing me as I type. It's truly amazing to me that I have started to just love mornings--at least, those mornings when I know that I'll be with him. Mornings when I have to drive an hour and a half to get to work... not so much.

I used to be a night owl; I got my best work done at night, sometime long after P went to bed. Now? I love these mornings with baby-j, even if it's been a rough night. I know that mornings are his best times; he's most likely to contentedly explore and less likely to get frustrated doing so. I wasn't disillusioned about how my life would change by having him, but I have to admit that turning into (somewhat of) a morning person was a big surprise. I thought that the early rising would be the most miserable part of being a mother. Turns out to be just the opposite.

Of course, it helps that it's so nice outside. The balcony door is open and the air is wonderful. A happy spring day.

i left my heart...

We just returned from San Francisco and I am always amazed by how much I love the place. My dear friend J (known her since grad school) is always such a wonderful and gracious host. If only I were that good as a host... I have to think that where we live now is part of the issue (not living in NYC anymore), but truly, J makes me feel like I could (and should) be a good host wherever I'm at!

baby-j was great on the flights, though. Less than 8 months old, and he's a traveling pro. Does a mama's heart good. :)

why “pardeepants”?

For baby-j’s first party, P and I bought some *sweet* plaid pants for baby-j to wear: his “party pants.” They sort of looked like the ones pictured here, but they were even cooler. Unfortunately, baby-j had some issues with the party pants that day; he was a bit cranky and seemed to feel much better once aforementioned pants were removed. Nevertheless, while this blog will mostly be about baby-j and his parents, I felt that I had to pay tribute to the kick-ass pants that baby-j got to wear for a few brief moments by naming this blog after them.

Seriously, those pants were awesome.

can you believe i'm new to blogging?

...and i've been know to refer to myself as "techie-girl" from time to time. I should be ashamed of myself. Well, here's to another journal I'll try to keep.