July 31, 2009, noonish:
2 years ago
Friday, July 31, 2009
Tuesday, July 28, 2009
Gone 'Proofing
Baby proofing...I used to think it was as simple as installing outlet covers and gates by the stairs. When I heard about people inviting baby proofing experts into their homes for consultations, I thought, That's ridiculous! I was never really prepared for the entire home reorganization that a very curious baby would require.
Babyproofing, I had heard, occurs in stages.
Stage 0
In the beginning, there were the apologies. I somehow (very mistakenly) thought I needed to baby proof before our child was born. Friends with older babies would drop by and I was embarrassed that the house was not safe. We just haven't had time to babyproof yet, I'd explain, while holding my belly or the helpless little baby who couldn't even roll over, let alone wreak havoc on the paper recycling.
Stage 1
And then there were the beginning stages of mobility. Sitting up, rolling over, and a slow but steady army crawl. The outlet covers went on, and Jamie and I sat around at night discussing our poor choice in coffee table. We put off Stage 2 as long as possible, but there comes a point when the effort it takes to keep a baby out of trouble is far greater than the effort it takes to move to Stage 2.
Stage 2
The army crawl grew faster, and Luke suddenly became very interested in the living room vents, a tree, and...the stairs. We discussed ways to block off these entities, but the better solution was to relocate the curious child. We moved our bedroom to the guest room, got rid the guest room (Sorry, guests!), and turned our bedroom into a playroom, aka "padded cell."
Luke loved the padded cell. There was a time when the padded cell was enough, and that time was glorious. Imagine a day where you chill in the padded cell room with your kid, who's happy and safe, and you can just hang out and check facebook and read US Weekly. See, that's the thing. It was about a day.
Soon the padded cell wasn't enough. Luke wanted more. He saw the hallway and the kitchen and sometimes even the cat, and he wanted it all. I felt like a really lousy parent when Luke whined at his gate. How could I not encourage my little explorer?
Stage 3
More gates go up, latches go up in the kitchen (although one cabinet stays open for exploration), and we buy a lightweight vacuum so I can constantly clean the floor. (Kid won't eat vegetables as a finger food, but he'll eat dirt, cat hair, and tiny pieces of cardboard?). Today I had to move the garbage can and paper recycling out of the kitchen because he was all into that. (Although I turned that space into a really cute reading nook--HGTV here I come!)
Before:
After:
The point is, Babyproofing is nothing like I expected. It takes a lot of brainpower to stay one step behind my little fella. That's right, behind. If I wanted to stay ahead, I would have hired those experts.
Babyproofing, I had heard, occurs in stages.
Stage 0
In the beginning, there were the apologies. I somehow (very mistakenly) thought I needed to baby proof before our child was born. Friends with older babies would drop by and I was embarrassed that the house was not safe. We just haven't had time to babyproof yet, I'd explain, while holding my belly or the helpless little baby who couldn't even roll over, let alone wreak havoc on the paper recycling.
Stage 1
And then there were the beginning stages of mobility. Sitting up, rolling over, and a slow but steady army crawl. The outlet covers went on, and Jamie and I sat around at night discussing our poor choice in coffee table. We put off Stage 2 as long as possible, but there comes a point when the effort it takes to keep a baby out of trouble is far greater than the effort it takes to move to Stage 2.
Stage 2
The army crawl grew faster, and Luke suddenly became very interested in the living room vents, a tree, and...the stairs. We discussed ways to block off these entities, but the better solution was to relocate the curious child. We moved our bedroom to the guest room, got rid the guest room (Sorry, guests!), and turned our bedroom into a playroom, aka "padded cell."
Luke loved the padded cell. There was a time when the padded cell was enough, and that time was glorious. Imagine a day where you chill in the padded cell room with your kid, who's happy and safe, and you can just hang out and check facebook and read US Weekly. See, that's the thing. It was about a day.
Soon the padded cell wasn't enough. Luke wanted more. He saw the hallway and the kitchen and sometimes even the cat, and he wanted it all. I felt like a really lousy parent when Luke whined at his gate. How could I not encourage my little explorer?
Stage 3
More gates go up, latches go up in the kitchen (although one cabinet stays open for exploration), and we buy a lightweight vacuum so I can constantly clean the floor. (Kid won't eat vegetables as a finger food, but he'll eat dirt, cat hair, and tiny pieces of cardboard?). Today I had to move the garbage can and paper recycling out of the kitchen because he was all into that. (Although I turned that space into a really cute reading nook--HGTV here I come!)
Before:
After:
The point is, Babyproofing is nothing like I expected. It takes a lot of brainpower to stay one step behind my little fella. That's right, behind. If I wanted to stay ahead, I would have hired those experts.
Thursday, July 16, 2009
The ten commandments of feeding Me
And Luke implied all these words:
"I am the LORD your Son, who brought you out of your virtually carefree existence, into the land of slavery:
1. Thou shalt not attempt to start a meal without at least ten spoons.
2. Thou shalt come armed at each meal with all the necessary parts of My meal. Any attempt to run into the kitchen to get "one last thing" will result in exaggerated whining and possibly the end of dinner.
3. Thou shalt be aware that placing Me in my high chair stirs up feelings of intense hunger, hunger that I was not aware of one minute earlier while happily playing. Be thou armed with some foodthing to fling on my tray, while you gather the rest of My meal.
4. Thou shalt NOT place a bib on Me.
5. Thou shalt avoid eye contact if you are eating your meal with Me. Talking and smiling at me will not promote family meal time, it will result in My thinking of some other whiny thing to express to you. I prefer to focus on my food.
6. Thou shalt break into song (preferably The Wheels on the Bus) if you really want Me to finish that oatmeal.
7. Thou shalt clean me after every meal.
8. Thou shalt put all My foods in neat little piles. Do not mix.
9. Thou shalt understand that putting anything new (aka gross) on my tray may result in additional whining.
10. Thou shalt finish each meal by granting Me a Vegetable Baby Mum Mum. Thou shalt present it to me like a communion wafer, and I will reward you with a squinty incredulous smile as you grant me the biggest finger food ever."
"I am the LORD your Son, who brought you out of your virtually carefree existence, into the land of slavery:
1. Thou shalt not attempt to start a meal without at least ten spoons.
2. Thou shalt come armed at each meal with all the necessary parts of My meal. Any attempt to run into the kitchen to get "one last thing" will result in exaggerated whining and possibly the end of dinner.
3. Thou shalt be aware that placing Me in my high chair stirs up feelings of intense hunger, hunger that I was not aware of one minute earlier while happily playing. Be thou armed with some foodthing to fling on my tray, while you gather the rest of My meal.
4. Thou shalt NOT place a bib on Me.
5. Thou shalt avoid eye contact if you are eating your meal with Me. Talking and smiling at me will not promote family meal time, it will result in My thinking of some other whiny thing to express to you. I prefer to focus on my food.
6. Thou shalt break into song (preferably The Wheels on the Bus) if you really want Me to finish that oatmeal.
7. Thou shalt clean me after every meal.
8. Thou shalt put all My foods in neat little piles. Do not mix.
9. Thou shalt understand that putting anything new (aka gross) on my tray may result in additional whining.
10. Thou shalt finish each meal by granting Me a Vegetable Baby Mum Mum. Thou shalt present it to me like a communion wafer, and I will reward you with a squinty incredulous smile as you grant me the biggest finger food ever."
Monday, July 13, 2009
Babies! They're Just Like US!
They hang at outdoor concerts!
They sit at picnic tables!
They pose for group shots at parties! (Mia's birthday)
They do yard work!
They admire jewelry!
They ham for the cam!
They sit at picnic tables!
They pose for group shots at parties! (Mia's birthday)
They do yard work!
They admire jewelry!
They ham for the cam!
Wednesday, July 8, 2009
Pool Party
Sun?! Two days in a row?! In July?! What a treat!
On Monday we celebrated the sunshine with a trip to the pool. Last summer my friend Jen and I frequented the pool almost daily (while we were eight/nine months pregnant. As we sipped our pineapple infused water (thought to induce labor), we talked about how we couldn't wait to bring the boys to the pool next summer. It WAS fun, tiring, but fun. Luke hadn't been to the pool since his swim class last winter, so I wasn't sure how he would take it.
The water was a little cold, and thus freaky to Luke at first, but after a few minutes it was all splish and splash, like he hadn't missed a beat.
And now back to our regularly scheduled rain...
On Monday we celebrated the sunshine with a trip to the pool. Last summer my friend Jen and I frequented the pool almost daily (while we were eight/nine months pregnant. As we sipped our pineapple infused water (thought to induce labor), we talked about how we couldn't wait to bring the boys to the pool next summer. It WAS fun, tiring, but fun. Luke hadn't been to the pool since his swim class last winter, so I wasn't sure how he would take it.
The water was a little cold, and thus freaky to Luke at first, but after a few minutes it was all splish and splash, like he hadn't missed a beat.
And now back to our regularly scheduled rain...
Wednesday, July 1, 2009
CSA! CSA!
Our good friend Lisa is away this week, so she let us pick up her CSA share from the Waltham Fields Community Farm. What a great experience! There were fourteen choices of vegetables, but we were allowed to choose only eight. So smart...this meant that I didn't feel obligated to take home beets or kale, easily the two worst vegetables on the planet.
Loading up on the veggies we like:
There was also a "pick your own component" that felt especially romantic to me. As soon as I got to the farm, I had this rush of being the parent I always wanted to be...I was "wearing" my son, we would pick our own vegetables and eat them that night, the sun was shining (rare these days) and beating down on his sun-screened arms...
Nolan looks wistfully over his shoulder at the peas:
Snipping parsley and picking snap peas while you are wearing a 20+ pound child and juggling (sharp) scissors, your cloth bags, and a camera case is not as relaxing as it sounds. I found myself wishing that I had just waited until Jamie got home so we could go together, or go by myself (even better!)
Not to mention, I couldn't help the inevitable separation of my shirt and jeans:
Enough with the photo op, Mom! I'm falling into the peas!
But then I picked a snap pea right off the bush and gave it to Luke to chew on while I perfected gardening calisthenics. And I suddenly had this vision of next summer, when we're definitely doing a CSA, and Luke can run and frolic about (in this vision he's barefoot, but I'm not sure that's practical.) He can help me pick peas, smell flowers, and challenge me with all sorts of other things I'm not thinking about right now.
I became a sap again.
Loading up on the veggies we like:
There was also a "pick your own component" that felt especially romantic to me. As soon as I got to the farm, I had this rush of being the parent I always wanted to be...I was "wearing" my son, we would pick our own vegetables and eat them that night, the sun was shining (rare these days) and beating down on his sun-screened arms...
Nolan looks wistfully over his shoulder at the peas:
Snipping parsley and picking snap peas while you are wearing a 20+ pound child and juggling (sharp) scissors, your cloth bags, and a camera case is not as relaxing as it sounds. I found myself wishing that I had just waited until Jamie got home so we could go together, or go by myself (even better!)
Not to mention, I couldn't help the inevitable separation of my shirt and jeans:
Enough with the photo op, Mom! I'm falling into the peas!
But then I picked a snap pea right off the bush and gave it to Luke to chew on while I perfected gardening calisthenics. And I suddenly had this vision of next summer, when we're definitely doing a CSA, and Luke can run and frolic about (in this vision he's barefoot, but I'm not sure that's practical.) He can help me pick peas, smell flowers, and challenge me with all sorts of other things I'm not thinking about right now.
I became a sap again.
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