The Sands Of Time

Yesterday was a milestone for NJ -- I took down her crib and assembled her new Big Girl Bed. She was probably ready for this a few months ago, but we decided there was no rush and she didn't seen to care. Yesterday, when I showed her the new headboard, though, NJ got very excited about the prospect.

Thanks for two-and-a-half years of stellar service, crib. You will be missed the first time NJ wakes up crying at 3 a.m. and comes upstairs.

Her excitement quickly turned to worry, though, when naptime came yesterday afternoon. NJ called her mom into the room a couple of times with concerns about blankets and such. It took a good hour or so for her to calm down and go to sleep. Last night, though, she went to bed early (her call) and slept through the night like an angel.

Hooray for new furniture!

But, uh, I'm trying to catch a few winks here, as you can see. So, if you don't mind ...

Seriously, Dad, get out of my face. OK?

There's a gap between the bed and the wall -- the bed can't be completely flush because of a window sill -- but The Wife ingeniously stuffed NJ's five-foot-long stuffed caterpillar in it and all's well. As a sleepy NJ says, "Sweet dreams!"

The World's Most Underrated Toddler Milestone

I taught NJ how to make the "thumbs-up" sign last night. It took her few moments, but once she was able to corral her fingers properly, success! She actually used her opposite hand to mash her fingers down to nail it the first time. Once she got that down it was easy to make another and give the double thumbs-up. That's how she sent me off to work this morning, with the double thumbs-up.

And don't worry, NJ only does the good thumbs-up:

Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaayyyyyyyy!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Not the bad thumbs-up:

Duuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuhhhhhhh!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Princess Addendum

NJ's vocabulary is expanding daily, primarily based on things she sees in her many books. Other words she picks up from real life, and she's already learning that sometimes one word is not enough. She's figuring out what words go with other words. For example, one of her books has a picture of a pile of balls. Thanks to The Wife's reading and her day care playtime, NJ knows that "kick" (and a little kicking pantomime) goes with "ball."

Her best two-word phrases didn't come from a book, though. And while I don't mean this in a harsh way, they sort of expose her as a shallow, flippant, conniving little liar. Perhaps she has a future in southern politics.

Her new favorite word for the moment is COOKIE. (Yes, we have created a monster, with the help of the late Paul Newman, whose Fig Newmans are delicious.) In hopes of boosting her chances of being handed a Fig Newman, NJ now pipes up with ONE right after she asks for a cookie. She even holds up a pudgy little index finger to illustrate her point, which is that if she could have just one delicious fig cookie, all would be well. But here's the thing: She doesn't really mean it. Because once that cookie's been consumed, she's back at it: "Cookie! ... one" again, with finger extended. And when that second "one" cookie doesn't materialize, she instead chows down on the bitter snack of tears and heartache.

Her other common phrase favorite of late comes after she's slugged me in the chin, a new hobby she's picked up. Prompted by her manners-minded mother, NJ belts out a SORRY ("saw-wee!"), and then a beat or two later adds an OK for good measure -- it'll have to do until she learns "We're good, right?" But here's the thing: She doesn't really mean it. I tend to take her apologies at something less than face value because 1) She has to be prompted by The Wife, as well as my own chin-rubbing exclamation of "Ow!", and 2) her declaration of "Sorry ... OK?" is punctuated by uproarious giggling, and usually is followed by another smack to my face.

These are rapidly approaching the top of NJ's catch phrase list, but this is still the favorite. A few evenings ago we heard her stirring on the baby monitor. The noise escalated quickly, and suddenly she blurted out a rather desperate "No way!" and started bawling. It was the cutest nightmare ever.

A Swingin' Little Joint Where She Can Jump And Shout

There was a time when NJ did not want to spend a single waking moment in her crib. Now, she's turned her bed into a dance studio.


The precise moment when the boogie started to explode.

Slide, NJ, Slide! Redux

The kid's attitude toward sliding has changed considerably in the past few months.

Master Spooner

The kid waffled between adorable smiling tyke (she smiles on command now, in fact) and cranky sourboots all day, but dinnertime was a revelation. She's been demanding a utensil during meals for a couple of weeks now, but me or The Wife always had one on hand, too, to do the heavy lifting while she dabbled. Tonight, though, she ate an entire cup of yogurt with a spoon, by herself, completely bib-free. It looked like this:

I'm trying out a yogurt fu manchu. Eat your hearts out, Luis Tiant and Ming the Merciless.

Sure, there's a smear of blueberry yo across NJ's face. But can you see the yogurt on her shirt? No? I'll wait while you get your glasses. OK, now: See it? Still got nothing? Yeah, that's what I thought. Darn right you can't see it -- the kid didn't spill but one tiny drop! One single, solitary, head-of-a-pin dab of yogurt. Let's blow that photo up a bit:

If you're rounding up, you'd have to say that she spilled *no* yogurt at all.

We don't strap a bib on her at dinnertime any more because whatever she's wearing is going in the dirty clothes hamper anyway. Clearly, though, in a matter of almost no time at all we'll be able to get rid of the bibs forever!

I Was Born With A Plastic Spoon In My Mouth

I wouldn't say that NJ has mastered using a spoon, but she's headed in the right direction.

I like The Who too, Daddy, but this spoon is made of silicone.

Once NJ realizes that she's got to hold the spoon upright on the entire journey from food to mouth, she'll be golden. Last night she dumped as much yogurt on the front of her dress as she managed to deposit into her gob. At bath time, I carried her into her room to change at arm's length. Today things went a lot smoother.

As you can see in the lower right, The Wife stands at the ready to help out -- there's been lots of two-spoon eating lately. NJ'll nail it down yet.

Charmageddon

NJ apparently has decided that 2011 is the year she'll devote to honing her personality. And, judging by the last week of 2010, so far so good.

Her curious case began last Wednesday night when I was assembling our new kitchen island, an intricate little number that, early on, frustrated me no end. (Frustration at the end, too, when one part didn't work properly, but that's a boring story for another time.) To give you an idea: It took five minutes short of a solid hour just to unpack the thing from its box. Once that was done, there was some shaky assembly time (it called for two people); The Wife was busy with dinner and couldn't hold things upright so screws could be inserted and fastened. I fumed and steamed over this while NJ sat in her high chair watching. Suddenly, over the sound of the iPod buds in my ears, I heard her exclaim "Oh!" and laugh. Then she laughed again, longer and louder. And again. Waving arms, too. I pulled the earbuds out and she did it again -- it was fake laughter. "She's trying to cheer you up!" The Wife said. I smiled weakly at the kid and replied, "It's not working." The Wife chastised me for being a grouch and took NJ out of her chair. The girl immediately toddled over to me, beaming a smile, and latched tight onto my leg with a hug for the ages. Even a practiced sullen dork like me couldn't fight that. I didn't curse or grouse until NJ was fast asleep and we turned our attention back to the kitchen furniture.

Fast-forward to yesterday: NJ grabbed her ridiculously wide-brimmed Worcester Nor'easter rain hat and marched around the house putting it on and pulling it off her head, babbling her babble. Then, the booming, fake laughter again -- I don't know if other young children do this, but I've never seen it before. It's really something -- she does it and looks at you with a grin, and if you laugh back she breaks into the real thing. It looks like this:

Batten down the hatches, matey!

Then, it was on to the Seattle Aquarium. She's been there before, but yesterday she was ready to make the place her own. Once she got over an initial awe-struck phase, NJ was jabbering and pointing and staggering around, pointing at fish and watching enraptured as a diver fed them. We rounded the corner to an exhibit that features a wave simulator (and the requisite explosions of bubbles) and a lot of fish at her eye level. This one we couldn't get her away from for a long time. Finally we were able to convince her to move on, although we stopped there on the way out and she forced her way to the front (right) with the confident aplomb of a groupie at a rock concert (which I hope never, ever, never, never, ever, never ever comes to pass). Lots of other fish exhibits captured her attention, and the high point of the trip for me was when The Wife put her on the floor and she immediately and swiftly toddled toward an aquarium waving her arms and shouting "Ah-pee ah-pee ah-pee" to no one in particular. I think she learned "happy" at day care -- she certainly didn't learn it from me on kitchen island assembly night.*

*UPDATE: I'm reliably informed by The Wife that she taught NJ "happy."

Last night came the clincher. At our New Year's Eve dinner table, I noticed NJ looking at me and squinting her eyes, with her mouth in a weird half-open position. I dimmed the lights a bit, but she did it again and I thought maybe she got a bit of food in her eye or something. "Is she making fun of me?" I asked The Wife, getting a little defensive about my own squinty-eyed visage (although, as the man said, All the Best Cowboys Have Chinese Eyes). "Maybe so!" she replied, so I made the face back at NJ -- who gave me an approving arm-wave and laughed heartily (not that Ed McMahon overdone stuff, either). We made faces at each other for a little while longer, before I resorted to my usual dinner-is-over routine of juggling three clementine oranges for her before clearing the table.

NJ's always been a charmer, but it's fun to see her kick it up a notch or two. She's also won over Zeus, the timid dog who's scared of his own shadow. She's upstairs with her mom right now, but if she was here she'd want me to wish all of you a Ah-pee New Year!

A Walk On The Child Side

This is what's been going on around here for the past few days.

When Black Friday Comes ...

... that means Thanksgiving is over. Here, the gobble holiday was about as low-key as it gets. We did a lot of laundry, watched some depressing football games, and ate the traditional turkey-stuffing-green beans-squash-pumpkin pie feast. NJ had a good day.

Pie! More pie, please. And more of this delicious white stuff that accompanies it. Actually, I'll just take more white stuff.

Snow Fun! Wait, what ...? Oh. It's No Fun. Ah, OK.

To what I'm sure will be the delight of NJ's southern-most grandparents, we found out today that she's not all that much into the Winter Wonderland scene. Not into it at all, really. Nope, not at all.

Of course, the temperature was a nipple-killing 28 degrees when we were outdoors a few moments ago. Still, her distaste for all things wintry started before we went outside, when she was slipped into her new (to her) winter jumpsuit like a hot dog wiener into its bun, if the bun was super-tight and zippered and Velcro-ed closed. And then there were the mittens. And the hat.

No, Daddy, I'm not helping you shovel. Forget it.

The Wife took her across the street to meet a faceless snowman, but NJ was fairly unimpressed.

I don't get it -- this guy has no mouth, so how is he supposed to tell me how smart and adorable I am? I'm wasting my time here.

By the time we ventured back across the street to meet a snowwoman wearing a grass skirt and shades, NJ'd had enough.

Seriously, it's colder than a witch's meal delivery device out here. Can we please go back inside? Like, now?

Today, like yesterday, all three of us have been home thanks to the snow, ice and Seattle's legendary inability to cope with either. The forecast says the mercury will rise above freezing in two days, but then it's likely to snow some more. So this could be the worst week of NJ's young life, or she'll get used to it and be a regular snow bunny by this time next week. Meanwhile, this is what's going on -- The Wife and I trying to get work done while simultaneously entertaining and keeping an eye on a 15-month-0ld whose walking skills seem to improve hourly.

See what I did, Daddy? She put down the laptop and picked up this book! I've always known that I rule your lives, but now I think I'm really going to start taking advantage of it.

The World's Most Underrated Baby Milestone 4: The Ultimate Baby Milestone

Sure, crawling and standing and walking are all big deals for a little kid. But last night I saw what has to be the be-all and end-all of baby milestones.

NJ was cranky in her high chair, and The Wife and I may or may not have been trying to cheer her up by busting moves from the world's most obnoxious wedding reception ritual, the Chicken Dance (apparently a day care fave), and/or imitating Mick Jagger's stage dancing (which also involves flapping chicken arms). NJ found this all quite amusing and laughed, then she pulled her hands into her chest and stuck her elbows out wide to make chicken wings. She smiled as though she'd just been accepted into a very exclusive club.

My little girl made chicken wings.

I'm getting a little misty-eyed just sitting here thinking about it.

Step, Daughter

After a few minutes of deliberation last night, The Wife and I decided that NJ officially took her first steps at almost 6 p.m. She's been flirting with the idea for more than a week, and over the weekend she took a half-step a couple of times, then took one entire step. However, she immediately toppled over, so upon further review we disallowed it as an extended fall. (We fawn over her and give her the benefit of the doubt, sure, but we're also sticklers!)

Last night, though, NJ let go of the basement sofa and took two solid steps to her mother, then intentionally flopped into her lap. A few moments later she stood up and went on a three-step jaunt before leaning into the sofa. Perhaps encouraged by our cheering, the usual frustration that comes with falling down wasn't there, so she's likely to keep at it and ramp up her efforts. She also showed wisdom beyond her year by deciding, after her successes, to call it a night with the walking. Quit while you're ahead, kid -- if it's good enough for Joe DiMaggio and George Costanza, it's good enough for you.

So now she's standing like a seasoned pro and is ready to start toddling around. We have a baby gate that I'm going to set up in the office doorway to keep her in sometimes (she likes to crawl from the office into the rest of the basement, and I immediately lose track of her and have to chase her), and to keep her out sometimes. She loves to stand up next to my desk and take things off it, and she's been reaching for Delbert the stuffed armadillo (right) lately, and if she gets him she'll hurt herself and the 'dillo. (I can't have that; I love her more, but I've loved Delbert longer, and he's already missing a couple of claws and the end of his glorious, glorious tail).

NJ is late to the walking game, and for a long time she never showed much interest at all in it. (We're pretty sure she's the last non-walker in her day care class.) But now that she's mastered standing, both by grabbing onto coffee tables or sofas and free-style, knee-bending, rise-from-nothing standing in the middle of the room, she's looking to expand her horizons. Lately she and I have been playing Dogs in the basement -- we get on opposite ends and crawl furiously toward each other (it usually ends with her stopping and giggling wildly while I gently plow into her) -- and I'm looking forward to changing the name of that game to reflect her two-legged status. Suggestions welcome.

UPDATE: NJ took three more steps today at day care, according to her daily summary note. So it looks like this just might stick.

The Party's Over

Turn out the lights, the party's over
They say that all good things must end

Certain NJ-related developments around the household have that chorus running through my head at seemingly regular intervals. (It's usually Dandy Don Meredith's voice in my head, what with me being a football fan and a child of the '70s and all, but Willie's version is just so damn smooth. You're welcome!) The kid that I used to rave about, well ... oh, I'm still raving. But things aren't like they used to be. To wit:

Crying and whining. The kid was pretty good about this for a long, long time. Now, though, she's learned that crying and whining gets results. It really started during the Daycare Sickness Jubilee, and who could blame her for crying and whining then? Not me. But -- and it seems like some sort of world record -- she's been illness-free for at least a week now. The crying and whining? It's survived. Long ago, I think it was in NJ's first week, someone warned us against bending to the will of a baby who would "manipulate us." It was premature advice -- I didn't think a one-week-old knew much from manipulation -- but now I'm starting to get it. Particularly when she throws a loud, blubbery six-second fit and then calmly, coolly inserts her thumb in her mouth and clams up. Plotting her next move, no doubt.

Sleeping. I said once before that the contently sleeping infant who made us the envy of new parents all across north Seattle was long gone, and it's still true even though the daycare colds and bugs are gone. She can be counted on to wake up once per night these days. Thankfully it's not as bad as when she was sick -- last week, her nose was so stuffed up that when she sucked her thumb, she couldn't breathe. I imagine that was pretty frustrating for the little kid. Again, though, it's better now that -- for the moment -- she isn't sick. Also, I'm sure this can be blamed in part on her teething: Her teeth took their sweet time showing up, and now they're making up for lost time -- three are coming in now on the top, maybe even four. So we coasted for a while there on the teething front, and now it's catching up to us. This is a factor in the crying/whining, too, I'm sure.

Eating. NJ is no longer the Hungry Monkey who'll eat whatever is put in front of her. The first thing she struck off her to-eat list? Broccoli. She seems to get pickier by the day. And worse, she's started holding out for the things she likes best. A couple of evenings ago I made the mistake of saying the word "yogurt" aloud, and she was inconsolable (see "Crying and whining," above) until The Wife was shoveling creamy, peachy goodness into her mouth.

Preferring her mom to me. This one is the toughest to take. NJ's shown a decisive preference for The Wife, as compared to Dad Solo. The Wife brings her upstairs in the morning and she can't put her down on the bed with me to get dressed because NJ starts crying. The Wife goes into the kitchen to make dinner and she can't leave NJ with me because the kid starts crying; instead, she sits in her high chair in the kitchen and watches her mom. It's not that she dislikes me or anything -- she just was practicing standing up and beamed at me every time for approval -- it's just that she is into her mom right now and makes it clear. She's playing favorites and right now I'm lagging. The Wife spent an hour at day care last Friday for some pumpkin-carving goings-on, and a couple was there with their kid. The mom left and the kid started crying in dad's arms. The Wife leaned over to another father and said, "I wish my husband was here to see this, he'd feel better." The man (allegedly) replied, "Happens at our house, too. It's normal." I put a year into caring for her exclusively, you'd think I'd have some good will stored up by now. But: No. I still have to earn it every day.

Stand And Deliver 2: Stand And Deliver Strikes Back

I was wrapping up work this afternoon when The Wife brought the kid down to my basement lair and said she had just stood up with no help at all -- no mommy's hand helping her, no pulling up by grabbing the coffee table. Just free-standing free standing.

Of course, she didn't do that once they got down here. All this happened, though:



My favorite part? Oh, that's easy -- the hands-in-the-air joy. And yes, there was a little drumming at the end. You're welcome!

Of course, once the camcorder was safely put away NJ did exactly what I was hoping she'd do while the 'recording' light was on -- she stood up without using mommy or anything else. You'll just have to trust me on that.

Stop me if you've heard this before, but: It's about time I finished up that baby-proofing.

An 'E' For Effort ... At Best

NJ brought her first art project home from day care today. They're working on a letter a day, or a couple of letters a week, or something. Loyal readers know that I'm crazy about this girl of mine, but I must say: This is just not very good. Not good at all.

"A" is for ... an unprintable word that describes me for writing this critique.

For starters, she didn't even bother to paint within the lines. They're big, thick, black lines -- pretty hard to miss, NJ. But there's green paint on the lines, within the lines, inside the A's triangle, outside the lines. Everywhere you look, you see a little green paint. And by "a little," I mean: Not very much at all. That's a big, fat A there, NJ, and you barely used any paint at all. There's probably just enough to fill up that open triangle. That leaves far too much white space for this to be considered a green A -- which I assume was the goal.

And the technique. Oh, don't get me started on the technique. Where are the lush, Monet-esque brush strokes or the Pollock globs and trails? There's nothing here but drops, a few of which are carelessly smeared, and some obviously accidental spray droplets.

In sum, I just get the feeling that NJ didn't even try with this. And while I'm not happy with the laziness and lackadaisical, unfocused approach to her artistic mission, I actually hope I'm right about that. Because if she was trying, she's got a long way to go.

(And yes, of course it's front-and-center on the fridge door.)

Aaaaaaaaannnd ... There It Is

NJ is home today with her very first day care cold. The new blog name suggested here is not fully on the mark, though, as The Wife is working from home today as well. We'll both be taking care of the little tyke and firing off e-mails and the like during naps and such.

NJ's cough would scare you if you heard it while walking down a long, dark hallway, and she occasionally rumbles the phlegm in her throat like an old subway car coming to an emergency stop. And there's such a constant slick sheen under her nose you'd think British Petroleum is in charge of her sinuses. But she's in very good spirits:

Eh, things could be worse.

End Of An Era

It was a day of milestones around here -- NJ's last day home-free, my last day of juggling her and my new job, and the arrival of my first paycheck from the aforementioned new job. It's been a little bittersweet, but don't let this fool you -- I'm not as morose about the situation as I seem to be in this clip:




NJ was her usual stellar self, at one point spending an entire hour in her play pen, playing and hanging out calmly and quietly, when I got trapped on a long conference call. Then we ran a couple of errands, and her mood then is adequately captured in the photograph here. It's only now, as The Wife came home and promptly started fawning over NJ, that it's really hitting me. Even though we've known for more than a year that tomorrow was on the calendar, it's still a little weird. I know I'm going to miss things like opening the blinds after NJ's morning nap and turning to see her stretching and grunting in her crib, right before she smiles and goes "Daaaaaaaaaaaahh!" I most definitely will not miss working and caring for her simultaneously. Today was the worst day yet on that front, and it seemed inevitable because the days have steadily gotten busier and hairier. Today I had to finish one project that was late and complete another that was moved up on the calendar, and cram this all into the two hours of NJ's afternoon nap. What's worse, I had to walk away from the computer after the previously mentioned conference call, knowing these things were hanging over my head like Damocles' sword. (I guess two projects actually means two swords, right? His dress sword and his battle sword, I suppose. Or can two ominous things be described as one so the proverb is intact, with one sword representing the overall workload. Hey, look: I'm way off topic. Whoops.)

So here's hoping tomorrow morning goes smoothly. I'll probably be leaving home at the same time The Wife packs up the kid up for her first day of day care. The Wife is worried that NJ won't understand what's going on when she drops her off -- when she leaves her child behind -- but even if that upsets NJ, I don't think it'll last very long. She'll have plenty of new things to do, plenty of new toys to play with, plenty of new friends to make. And then, of course, she'll be freak-out delighted to see her mom when she picks her up at the end of the day, I always mention. Don't know if The Wife's buying it, though.

I am very, very proud of this little girl. I can't wait to sit her down one day and tell her about the best year of my life. It will probably bore her to death -- you know how these kids are today -- but I'll love telling it.

Such A Beautiful Face! Why Hide It?

NJ was born a year and a week ago with a full head of hair, and it's been flopping in her face for quite a while now. When we put a barrette in to pin it back her first, second and third instincts are to pull this thing off her head (and usually put it in her mouth). So today she got her first haircut, and she was quite the trooper about the whole thing.

Before ...

... during ...

... and after.

When we left the house I brought a little plastic baggie to collect a nice lock of NJ's hair, but her new hair salon gets lots of First Haircut kids, so they were prepared. We left with a freshly groomed kid, a "first haircut" certificate with a lock of her hair clamped to it, and a small envelope containing even more locks of her formerly flowing mane. She went in looking like a '60s flower child and came out looking like mid-'60s Mia Farrow.

McCartney's Beatles Songs For $600, Alex

NJ's "Birthday" was "Yesterday" (see what I did there?) and only a bad blog father would let such a momentous milestone pass without mentioning it on the World Wide Interwebs. (Actually, that's what a really bad blog father would do; one who's merely bad, not really bad, waits until the next day. And that's me. Sorry, NJ.)

No party (plenty of time for that later), just the three of us. When we weren't lavishing NJ with attention, The Wife and I spent most of the day looking at the clock and saying things like "This time last year you were asking for an epidural." She got lots of new toys -- including a drum The Wife bought her, a gift I thought you only gave to kids whose parents you don't like -- and marked three fun, if not earth-shattering, milestones.

Balloons: I'm not sure what we spent all told on NJ's birthday bounty, but the likely least expensive item, the balloon bouquet, was her favorite.

Wow, that's even bigger than daddy's head!

Sugar: NJ devoured a banana cupcake with vanilla frosting -- the first concentrated sugar she's ever had. She was a little tentative about it to start, but once she got a taste for The Sweet she grabbed that thing and did not let go.

Sugar, I think this is the beginning of a beautiful friendship.

Bathtub: The night before NJ's birthday ended up being the last night she took a bath in the little blue tub we put in the kitchen sink. Sunday night's cleaning took place in the bathtub, so no more wet baby hands on Dad Solo's coffee grinder. The move had been planned for some time, and for some arbitrary reason we settled on her birthday to make the switch. And, of course, the sink tub would never hold the extensive collection of bath toys she received for her birthday.

Mommy! This is so stinking luxurious I think I may plotz.

So happy birthday, NJ! One down, one hundred or so to go.