On Saturday, E and I took Baby Evan up to Amherst, Massachusetts to visit the Eric Carle Museum of Picture Book Art. I read Mr. Carle’s blog fairly regularly and he mentioned the museum was hosting an exibit of Tomie dePaola’s work this summer/fall. Now, I don’t like to play favorites with my children’s books – I have so very many favorites it would be impossible to choose one or two or twelve – but have you SEEN Tomie dePaola’s work? My favorite is The Quilt Story. It’s about a girl named Abigail whose family moves to a new home and her special quilt makes her feel safe and happy. Not to get all sappy and gross but we moved around fairly often when I was a kid, so that book meant a lot to me.

Along with the exibit of his work, Tomie dePaola was also going to be at the museum for a meet and greet on October 17th.  My copy of The Quilt Story was actually already signed “To Suzanne” by Tomie, way back in 1985. So the chance to meet him now, with my own child, was really exciting. (Sadly, Tomie just had surgery on his signing hand for carpel tunnel so he passed out bookplates instead of actually signing. Still worth the trip.)

Baby Evan is way too young to understand the actual museum and a little too young to enjoy the “studio” where kids can make their own crafts, but he was well behaved and – as always – a big hit with everyone who crossed his path. Ok, not WELL behaved – I’m told there was quite a bit of screaming during Tomie’s Q & A in the auditorium but E was nice enough to watch the baby in the hall so I could stay and listen, (Tomie was very funny in sort of an curmudgeonly old man way – he said he didn’t do school visits anymore because kids are hyper and awful and too much for him) but he didn’t poop or throw up on anything. Which is pretty much the baby equivalent of a standing ovation.

I couldn’t take any pictures in the galleries, which are set up like a regular art museum with lots of white space and low lighting. There are two galleries, one holds work by Carle and the other rotates original work by various children’s illustrators. It doesn’t take very long to see all the art (especially with an impatient child) but there is a children’s library, the studio and an amazing gift shop. We may have gone overboard in the gift shop, but with our military discount admission price (only $3 instead of $9!) the trip didn’t cost very much. The museum has an area called the “Cafe” but it was really just a dining space and a couple vending machines. We left to search for food and stumbled across a giant but insanely busy country market/grocery store/bakery/deli. If we hadn’t been in a hurry to get back and meet Tomie I could have spent HOURS picking out fresh produce and locally made goat cheeses. (In case you didn’t know, Amherst is a little…crunchy. Ok, the whole place smells like hippies. College kid hippies.) We also stopped at a pumpkin farm on the way home and got our family of pumpkins for carving and took some great pictures. I highly recommend Western Mass in the fall, and the Eric Carle Museum anytime.

Baby Evan has stopped rolling or spinning in circles all the time and has started trying to crawl. When I saw him push up on his honest to God hands and knees the other day, I full on gasped and covered my mouth. Quick, to the fainting couch! Bring me my smelling salts! My stars, my child is growing up so fast! I know I should be happy he’s developing right on schedule and be exited for his new skills but it’s hard not to miss the lump that just lay around looking cute instead of rolling under the bookcase and trying to eat the power cords. Crawling means he can escape, especially when I’m trying to do funny stuff to take pictures of him. I’ll miss this:

Amazon was having a sale on babies, but the shipping costs were outrageous.

Peek a boo! But I'm still trapped in this basket. For now mwahahahahaha!

If you think I'm going to sit still and let you dress me like this once I can crawl away you are sorely mistaken.

In the past month or so, Baby Evan’s habit of going all Linda Blair on everyone and everything within a 20 foot radius has really improved. I no longer have to act out the ridiculously annoying scene where I say “OK, but he’ll probably throw up on you” to anyone who asks to hold him and then apologize profusely when he actually does throw up on them and they hand him back with disgust. It’s not my fault you’re wearing your best/favorite/only shirt/sweater/work uniform and it’s made of silk/wool/diamonds. I TOLD YOU TO TAKE THE BURP CLOTH.

Having a baby that doesn’t throw up constantly is like having a whole new baby. My stress levels have fallen dramatically, as has my dampness and general smelliness. I do baby laundry every other day instead of twice a day. My diaper bag now contains toys, diapers, and my wallet instead of fourteen burp cloths. I guess all that “he’ll grow out of it” advice was right, although I still maintain telling a mom whose baby pukes every ten seconds to just “wait it out, it’ll get better in 6 to 12 months” is the LEAST HELPFUL THING EVER unless it’s followed by an offer to babysit. For the next 6 to 12 months.

Of course the gradual improvement in spit up levels probably would have gone largely unnoticed – unless something happened that reminded me just how awful the puking used to be. That something happened last night. Baby Evan slept straight through to 3 am last night (yah!) when I rolled him into bed and snuggled down to feed him. I was just drifting off when all the milk that had gone into the baby came erupting out again, soaking me, my tank top, the blanket we were lying on, the baby’s clothes and the baby. I was SOAKED. By some miracle the sheets were spared so I didn’t have to wake E up and strip the bed. I didn’t strip the baby either, since he slept through the puking, although I did worry about him for the rest of the night. He seems totally fine this morning so I guess my OMG SWINE FLU fears were premature and it was just a freak tummy bubble. I will keep an eye on him (and my shirt and my rug and my couch) today for any more pukesplosions, but let’s hope this was just a one-time situation.

You know that blond joke where the blond goes to the doctor and says “Doctor it hurts when I do this (pokes finger on leg) and when I do this (pokes finger on face) and this (pokes finger on arm)” and the doctor says “That’s because you’re finger is broken”?

Last night I made 44-clove garlic soup, from Smitten Kitchen and today I can’t escape the smell of garlic.* It seems like the bedroom smells and the bathroom smells and the kitchen smells and the couch smells and, jeez, just everywhere I go smells like garlic! How long do you think it took before this blond figured out her finger was broken?

Apparently, the smell/taste(?) of garlic is not only coming off my skin but has made it into my breastmilk and Baby Evan LOVES IT. So despite his sharp, pointy teeth and super pale skin I guess we’ve ruled out any possibility he’s a vampire (unless he’s one of those stupid, wimpy Twilight vampires who aren’t allergic to garlic and spend all their time sparkling and stalking women). He nursed ALL NIGHT and then four more times before 11 am and made “ah-ah-ah-ah-ah” noises every time I tried to detach him for a minute. I’m hoping this is just temporary. No one’s ever smelled like garlic FOREVER, right? Maybe if I start mixing garlic into his baby food I’ll have more success with the solids. What do you think we should start with, mango-pear & garlic or apple-banana & garlic?

*For the record, it was totally worth it. Oh em gee is that soup delicious and creamy and so so easy, even with my ridiculously cheap leaky blender.