Babies: not as dumb as you thought

For too long, the human infant has been maligned for its seeming inability to do pretty much anything at birth.  In comparison with its mammalian counterparts, many of whom can walk and function independently within a few hours of birth, the lack of activity on the part of the newborn baby has always been a little, well, embarrassing.

But apparently, babies aren’t just laying around drinking their own pee* in your womb.  In fact, they are listening more closely than, er, some of us may have realized.  A new study reveals that, within a week of being born, a baby’s cry has an accent that comes from paying rapt attention to its parents voices in the previous 40 weeks.

Babies with accents? Personally, I think this study is just a rouse to foist another Kirstie Alley/JohnTravolta movie on us: Look Who’s Talking (Like a Polack!)**

*Seriously,  this is what they do.  They pee and then they drink it and because it’s all sterile everyone thinks it’s not weird.

**Can I avoid criticism for using this racial epithet by telling you that I am one quarter Polish?  No? But did it make you forget how I called babies dumb and told you they drink their own pee?  Well, then, carry on.

A little treat

In 2009, our Halloween stretched out over the course of the whole month of October. I wouldn’t exactly call us exceptionally festive people when it comes to this particular holiday.  And truly, I continue to be profoundly baffled that adults decorate their property with things that, at any other time of year, would get your local shady characters arrested (ticketed? fined?) for vandalism.  However, with the introduction of a small child into the mix, we stepped up our game.  Mildly.

October 1: On a whim, I purchased orange Chinese lanterns to sit atop our table and look autumnal and festive.  They are pretty.  But honestly, without supporting decorations and flanked as they are right now by Grace’s slipper socks, a sweatshirt,  a hot plate, and two dirty oven mitts, they look somewhat lost.  Like maybe they wandered over from a wealthy neighbor’s house who had real decorations and couldn’t find their way home.

October 7: I purchased an organic pumpkin.  Un-ironically, we called him Jack.  He sat, untouched, for about a week while we worried about how long an organic pumpkin could really last.

October 14: Dan gave Jack a face.  He looked like this:

Pretty scary, right?  I was impressed with his carving abilities.*

October 21st: Even with constant refrigeration while he was not being “used,” Jack was no longer one week later.  His scary teeth were sunken and his eyes had collapsed into small slits.  He was a shell of his former self.  I thought he had a fighting chance of lasting until Halloween, but Dan gently broke it to me that he had to go.  We were back to the Chinese lanterns as our primary form of Halloween decoration.

October 31st: I made banana pumpkin muffins.  We spent the evening with Grace at her grandparents’ house in the suburbs, running around in her little frog costume.  She did not trick or treat, but entertained us all by repeatedly telling us, when asked what she was dressed as for Halloween, that she was a “Shog.”

For the Shog’s sake, I am hopeful that our holiday decorating abilities will improve as she grows.

*Also, mad props to Ellie and Eric for sweet carving skills of their own.

“No” is the new “Peekaboo”

Remember when I talked about how Grace and I used to play peekaboo 100 times a day?  I mentioned how I knew it was fleeting, how what was “in” for her was changing so quickly it was hard to keep up?  Well, can someone tell me how long the answer “No” to every question/statement/request will last? I know, I know, at least until college, right?  BUT SERIOUSLY.

 

“Grace, let’s go for a walk.”

“No. Nononono. No.”

 

“Grace, do you want lunch?”

“No. No. I know I know! No.”

 

OY.  I read somewhere that it helps to say no to them less.  But we really don’t say “no” to her that much.  Only to, like, you know, keep her from sticking body parts into (covered) outlets or to gently suggest that the best place to read her books isn’t on the top of the stove.   I know this new development is an assertion of independence and I am TOTALLY down with that. It’s kind of neat.  Really, it’s cool with me if she wants to pee all over my carpet because she does not think it is time to replace her diaper.  But you know what would be even cooler?  Bringing back good old Peekaboo.  But Grace has only one little word for me when I try it.

Gratitude

I wanted to say an official and very heartfelt thanks to those of you who supported our family in the JDRF walk this year, with donations or with kind words and well wishes.  We are so very grateful for you.  Grace had a fun day, and, as you can see, was so excited for the walk.

Carson’s Thunder had over 55 walkers and, although the donations are still coming in and being counted, has raised over $25,000 thus far.  If you still want to donate, JDRF takes donations all year round. Click here to donate. There’s no time like the present to make a difference in a kid’s life!

Finally, if you want to see Carson Thunder himself talk about what it’s like to be a kid with Juvenile Diabetes, click here:  http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=tQiNcKqfpeo

Much love to all!

Visions of Grace…

…as a Daddy’s girl.  Doesn’t get much sweeter.

…as a pawnshop appraiser.  She looks wily.

…as the dreaded Teenager.  The lounge-y posture, the vacant, almost salty expression that already seems to be saying “Mom, be quiet and stop taking my picture.  You embarrass me just by existing.”   It makes me a little queasy thinking about it.  And trust me, if memory serves about the kind of attitude I served up as a teenager, I pretty much deserve whatever I get.

Yet, like many, many parents before me, I am fairly convinced that I WILL be at least kind of cool. So why is she looking at me like that??

The cold is here

The cold has arrived, so tis the season for baby winter vests, sweaters, boots, and hats that have been handed down a generation or two, which I love.  This little beauty on Grace’s head was made by the wonderful Grandma B and worn as a wee babe by the fabulous Aunt Amanda (of original-Zoloto fame).  Winter: bring it.

Happy Weekend

Hope you get to do some relaxing with your favorite books and toys this weekend!

Windows: the window to my soul

It has been almost 18 months since Dan and I first realized that our windows were not, in fact, keeping the elements on the outside of our house and that it was raining in.  And for one reason or another, the process to try and get them fixed has been nothing short of the kind of nonsense that makes you want to take a fork to your eye and dig in deeply to distract you from the frustration.

So this weekend, at long last, we had 10-15 men of all shapes and sizes stomping through our condo and yelling out our windows between 8am-3pm.  There was a lot of laughter, some jumping in inappropriate places when one is positioned on an open and potentially unsturdy window frame three stories in the air, and I definitely witnessed some construction lift wind surfing.

At one point, in the removal of a particularly onerous and unwieldy window, one of them yelled to the others “Get the little guy!” To which another one responded, “Jose?”

There was a short discussion, and then raucous laughter ensued.  It became clear that the “little guy” they were supposed to get was not Jose, but rather a small screw driver.

Now, I am not sure if you are aware of this, but I am skilled — SKILLED — at deductive reasoning.  Using these powers, I examined who of their team was not in the room when the conversation took place then took stock of those men who looked like they might be named Jose.

I felt quite certain that I had figured out who Jose was.

And so when he said “Amanda, can I take you up on that glass of water?” I felt confident in saying, “Sure, Jose.  Would you like ice?”

Fortunately (for me), something stopped me.  Instead I said, “Sure.  What was your name again?”

“Mark.”

Oops.  Mark, right. Mark is definitely not Jose. And the more I thought about it, calling someone of Latino descent Jose without being certain that that is his name seems akin to asking a woman when she is due if she happens to put on a few pounds (read: DO NOT EVER).   I figuratively patted myself on the back for a good call on passing on the chance to look like a racist.

And Mark was a really nice guy, super polite.  Actually, they were all quite nice and several of us sat down with a cup of coffee when they were done. Jose, it turned out, was not so little a guy after all, and was sporting a hat that said  “#1 Dad.” Dan paid him a congratulations for the honor.

“Heheheh,” he said. “Oh, this? I found this.”  He chuckled appreciatively to himself.  We all laughed and sipped our coffee thoughtfully.

I’m trying to be here for you… I really am

Hi!  Remember me?  For a time, I used to blog regularly for you!  Then semi-regularly.  Then I went away for many, many days.  But I am back, at least for today, and in an attempt to have a low-stress return, I am sharing some recent Grace pictures.  She’s HUGE people, HUGE!

(And so, so many thanks to all the JDRF walk supporters, both donations and well wishes – I will post some info and pictures from the walk soon!)

Delicious

When was the last time you ate Mac and Cheese with such reckless abandon?  Well, maybe you should think about it.