Posts Tagged ‘10 months’

A day without snow

Tuesday, March 2nd, 2010

In New England, as soon as we get that one glorious day of warm above freezing weather everyone goes berserk with spring fever and breaks out their flip-flops and skirts and shorts and starts acting like it’s 85 degrees out. The stores put all their jeans and sweaters on clearance and start selling bathing suits and sandals (True story – about two weeks after giving birth last April I went out to buy some non-maternity jeans to wear until I fit into my old ones. It took four stores to find one really terrible, overpriced pair because everyone was selling SHORTS). No one cares that one 45 degree day in March is usually followed by six more weeks of winter. We could get two feet of snow tomorrow and half my state would still be out in their gardens planting flowers, insisting it’s just a fluke storm and summer is just around the corner.

Having lived in New England for approximately half my life (on and off) I fall victim to this false spring every. single. year. I think it’s a form of self-preservation, since if you don’t fully enjoy the few warm days we get in February and March you’ll be hiding in a dark room banging your head against the wall waaaay before May.

Since Baby Evan is a true New England baby, we took advantage of today’s springlike above freezing weather to take him to the park. I was hoping that since he walks about 75% of the time around the house he’d really enjoy a new space to run. Instead, he threw himself on the ground as soon as he discovered the joy that is mulch. E and I spent the whole time trying to keep him from shoving handfuls of cedar bark and acorns in his mouth. I guess we can add “dirt” to the list of things he probably won’t be allergic too based on early childhood consumption. Already on the list: dog hair, cat hair, lint, yarn, dust, blood, plastic, wood and stickers. Still, I would call our first park adventure a success.

He wasn't quite sure about the swing at first (or maybe he was just COLD, like E kept saying. "Do you think he's cold? He looks cold. Aren't you cold?")

But he definitely warmed up to it (OH MY GOD DID YOU SEE THAT PUN? BAM!)

I don't know if you can even see the baby over my ridiculously yellow sweater. I bought it this morning in a frenzy of pastel colors and tank tops at Old Navy.

"I don't know what just happened, but LET'S DO IT AGAIN"


WHEEEEEEEE!!! (And just in case you're thinking I'm some sort of neglectful mother who's so busy taking pictures she sends her 11 month old down the slide alone, don't worry. I'm sitting on the end and there is NO WAY he's gonna get around me. My butt could keep eight kids on that slide.)

Oh did I say slide was my favorite? I meant stick. STICK is definitely my favorite.

Yes (despite this very questionable caterpillar climby thing - now with more chipped lead paint!!!) I think we'll definitely be back for more park.

Over the river and through the woods

Monday, March 1st, 2010

To grandmother’s assisted living facility and grandfather’s nursing home we go! OK, so the song doesn’t work quiet as well since they sold the super cool old house (with a servant’s staircase! and a laundry chute! and a scary basement!) but we did go over the Hudson and through Western Pennsylvania Massachusetts.

I’ve felt bad for a while that almost no one on my Mom’s side of the family had ever met the baby, so this weekend my very kind, very patient, very good at driving through a frickin’ BLIZZARD husband chauffeured Baby Evan and I up to Rochester, New York for my grandmother’s 83rd birthday. I took a zillion pictures. This is going to be totally boring for absolutely everyone except for my family who was actually there so feel free to skip today’s post.

Baby Evan's first ride in an elevator. E's face is like that because he just finished saying "You're going to take a picture of this, aren't you?"

Wheelchairs! Just like strollers, except easier to fall out of!

With Grandpa (Great-Grandpa to Baby Evan)

We were trying to figure out what Great-Grandpa would be in Swedish, since my mom is MorMor (mother's mother). MorMorFar? FarMorMor?

With Grandma (Great-Grandma to Baby Evan)

Baby Evan and his Great-Aunt Susan (Mom's sister) at the very cute bead store where she works

Mom's brother, Chuck. I really don't think Chuck would like being called a "great-uncle".

Baby Evan with my cousin Jenny, who I remember as being 6 years old. Now she has a boyfriend. I think that means he pulled her pigtales on the playground.

A jaunty hat is fun for all ages!

What do you want me to do, sing and dance? I'm smiling! Throw me a french fry or two!

The view from our hotel balcony. Rochester had about two feet of snow (with more coming down) right before we got there.

No, you cannot come out of the 7th floor balcony to get a closer look at the snow.

Not. Even. Bacon.

Friday, February 26th, 2010

Baby Evan is almost 11 months old and still does not eat anything. I’m getting to the point where – although what my obviously happy, healthy kid eats is NONE OF THEIR DAMN BUSINESS – people have started giving me funny looks when I turn down children’s menus and offers to “just let him try a little bit.” (Actual conversation with E’s boss at Christmas party – Boss: Oh, we didn’t plan any food for the baby. E: That’s ok, we brought food. Boss: What, like a bottle or something? E: …Or something.) It’s hard to explain to strangers that although Baby Evan will literally run across a room to grab the food from your hand, it’s gonna come right back out as soon as it hits his tongue.  All of my pockets are full of mushed up pieces of Cheerio the baby spit out and I had to pick up because I am not a jerk who leaves drooly bits of cereal all over the play area/pediatrician’s office/Target/your shirt. I’m also afraid people are starting to suspect I’m doing this on purpose, like some sort of extended breastfeeding Nazi who won’t let her kid eat any solid foods because I think BREAST IS SO MUCH THE BEST that everything else is unnecessary. “Anything?” people ask when I tell them he doesn’t eat, “Really? Have you tried Cheerios? My kid loves Cheerios. How about apple slices/Popsicles/mac and cheese/chicken nuggets/a whole turkey leg?” No, I say, not anything. But thanks.

I did talk to a nutritionist (also known as my friend Megan’s mom) about Baby Evan’s strange dietary habits and she assured me we were still well within the realm of normal child behavior.  She had plenty of stories of kids – her own included – who didn’t eat anything until 14, 15, 16 months. After looking over the list of foods that have gone over pretty well versus the list of total failures, we decided it was a texture things as well as an independence thing. Mushy food on a spoon is AWFUL. Crunchy things or anything he could potentially choke on are OK. Things he can chew with his many sharp little teeth are best. My plan of action is to just keep offering food – some food, any food, all food – until we find something that he’ll swallow, and work on “balanced and nutritionally sound” later.

Foods he hates even more than I hate Katy Perry
Rice cereal
Baby food
Things eaten with a spoon
Pureed anything

Foods he almost ate once
Celery sticks
Carrot sticks
Banana nut Cheerios
Peas from some sort of Gerber baby stew meal
Soybeans in their pods

Foods almost worth feeding
Teething biscuits
French fries
Conversation hearts Valentine candy

Foods he eats enough of to provide nutrition

Thanks God I got the hang of this breastfeeding thing. Hey at least it’s cheap, easy and always available.

Scary Bear

Tuesday, February 23rd, 2010

Since learning my new skill back in October, I’ve become quite dedicated to knitting and am really enjoying this hobby. I’ve even managed to complete a few projects well enough to gift them to friends and family, although my pile of badly made baby hats is shamefully large. I just can’t bring myself to give away a project I messed up, and messing up is about 50% of knitting – it’s called “frogging” because when you rip out stitches you “rip-it rip-it”. It’s pretty much the cutest way ever of saying YOU SUCK AT KNITTING and should find an easier hobby.

Since about a zillion people I know are having babies, I bought a book of book of baby knitting patterns to get started on a few specific gifts. I also bought what I thought was enough yarn for three teddy bears in three different colors, one of which would be my practice bear for Baby Evan before I attempted one for REDACTED (Let’s just say someone who might read this). Unfortunately, between mistakes and my inability to judge how much of a tail I need to cast on, I ended up one ear short with my yarn. Then Baby Evan was so excited to play with his new toy he ran off with the snout piece and I cannot find in anywhere. So now I’m waiting for my yarn order before I can remake the nose, sew on the nose and ears, stuff the head, and attach it to the body. This is what the finished bear is SUPPOSED to look like:


And here’s what my bear currently looks like:

Skeptical cat is skeptical of Headless Zombie Bear.

Of course, since Baby Evan wouldn’t keep his hands of the pieces before they were even stuffed, he’s seeing nothing wrong with Headless Zombie Bear and has started dragging him around already.

Zombie Baby enjoys a snack of headless bear.

I’m tempted to just leave Headless Zombie Bear headless and zombie-fied. I think a headless bear lovie is hilarious and would like nothing better than to send Baby Evan off to his first sleep over with my sad, pathetic first try of a bear and have him explain to people no, it’s SUPPOSED to look like this. I could start a whole trend of creepy, headless stuffed animals. Or maybe that’s where serial killers come from and I should keep my dark sense of humor to myself.

p.s. LOVE THE NEW CAMERA. It makes my crowded room and giant pile of plastic baby toys look all soft and colorful. And I still don’t know what I’m doing. Also: no red eye on my Zombie Baby!

Tunnel (of) Love

Sunday, February 21st, 2010

At our Friday playgroup a few weeks ago, Miss Amy let all the kids explore IN and OUT and THROUGH using a play tunnel. At least, she tried to let all the kids use the tunnel, but once mine got over his initial fear he spent the whole hour climbing back and forth trying to keep everyone else out. He would speed-crawl right to whatever end a kid was trying to enter through and sit on his massive thighs, silently saying “MY TUNNEL MINE MINE MINE”.

A good mother would have used that opportunity to teach Baby Evan the importance of sharing and taking turns and how good it feels when we can all play nicely together.

Me? I just bought him his own damn tunnel.

P.S. HE SAID BALL. AND KNEW WHAT HE WAS TALKING ABOUT. “Bal bal bal bal bal bal” and then he goes looking for a ball. Not like “ma ma ma ma ma ma” when he goes looking for some lint to chew on. BALL is officially his first word.

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