Thursday, May 26, 2011

Chewing Gum For The Eyes

We've been dipping our toes into the kids'-television waters lately, and I'm finding them to be chilly.

NJ is watching a few minutes in the morning, between breakfast and day care, and another stretch some evenings before dinner. Altogether it's not even pushing 30 minutes total, yet. NJ has three favorites, at this point:

The Wiggles
Sweet Virginia, do I have a healthy dislike for these New Zealand blokes. They're very annoying -- each has a trademark sweater color, they have vaguely dopey looks on their faces all the time, and their songs are The. Worst. Go on -- click on one of those videos and listen to the songs for at least a minute. Then, try to get it out of your head for the rest of the day. (SPOILER ALERT: You won't be able to.) The Wife takes NJ upstairs in the mornings while she gets dressed, usually around the time I'm pouring my first cup of coffee before heading down to the office. When NJ starts saying "wee-guls" and heads to the bedroom stairs, I quicken my pace, too -- in the other direction.

Yo Gabba Gabba
Another dad told me about this show, and while I've only seen it once ... I think it may be my favorite. Lend your eyes and ears to this and tell me that's not, if nothing else, interesting. As your lawyer, I advise you to start watching Yo Gabba Gabba heavily.

I, for one, welcome our new green-striped overlords.
Sesame Street
Still ranked No. 1. NJ loves the Cookie Monster, Ernie and Big Bird, but her favorite is still the little red dude. I like to bring NJ down here to the office to watch Sesame Street clips online, because you can hunt for some compelling special guests.

Still the one.

Sunday, May 15, 2011

Light And Dark

Not much posting here lately, I know. NJ has been busy, though -- she's been very affectionate lately, and on the flip side has been very tantrumy when something outrageous happens, like she doesn't get a second cookie or isn't lifted up onto the breakfast nook bench fast enough. Or get her shoes on her feet in a timely fashion. Or take her shoes off her feet in a timely fashion. Or ... well, you get the idea. She turns 21 months old today, but the Terrible Twos are alive and well at Casa de NJ.

It's been a back-and-forth week here weather-wise, and lots of light and dark because of what's going on at our house, and that theme is enough for me to hang this flimsy excuse of a blog post on. Today it's gray and rainy, but yesterday was a perfect Spring day that saw us heading to the playground at Green Lake to catch up with our PEPS friends. Of course, all the kids look adorable and in good health and cute as the cutest buttons ever buttoned. NJ particularly enjoyed her time on the swing.

Somebody's got a new favorite hat ...
The weekend before featured an equally nice day, so the fam headed to Gas Works Park for some fresh air and leisure time.

Every day should be like this. Every single one.
And on Mother's Day we went to the beach at Golden Gardens, where it was cool but still very nice.

Not pictured: NJ's experiment with a Hitler mustache made of damp sand.
The sunlight you see in these pics stands in stark contrast to today's winter-once-more gray skies, or the interior of our house this past week (up until Friday evening). We're getting the house painted, and all the windows -- all of them -- have been taped and papered up. It's been a little crazy-making for me, working at home; I've felt a bit like a terrorist in a safe house (minus the porn and Navy SEALs). The first day of blacked-out windows, NJ noticed right away and kept pointing to the windows and exclaiming, "Dark!" The second day she'd apparently had it explained to her by The Wife. When she said, "Dark!" I agreed heartily and then NJ looked at me with a serious look on her face, leaned forward and opined, "Paint the house. Paint the house."

The kids' picnic furniture I assembled yesterday is not seeing any action today, other than rain.
She's stringing together lots of words into phrases and sentences these days, but doesn't use them for long and resists Dad Solo's nostalgic "Hey, remember when you used to say "Paint the house," like a day ago?" attempts at recreating the very near past. Still, it's a lot of fun hearing what comes out of her yap. Yesterday she sat in my lap and watched an Elmo video on this computer, and at one point she looked up at me and, very seriously, issued two sentences of pure gibberish (except for "Elmo"). She arched an eyebrow and gave me a "Right?" look before turning back to the screen.

Tuesday, May 3, 2011

A Bib And A Rib

After her introduction to barbeque in Houston, Texas, U.S.A. a couple of weeks ago, this past weekend NJ learned to eat ribs. What follows are some photographs of her with greasy hands, a greasy face, and a couple of ribs in the aforementioned greasy hands and face. And no, there's no barbeque sauce -- she's a toddler, not a heathen.

So, just eat the soft outside, right?
When Daddy eats a rib, he looks all dog-dumb and glassy-eyed, so I guess that's what you're supposed to do. Full speed ahead!
Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaand here we go.
Hmmmm ... a little chin-stroking contemplation is in order, I do believe.
It's good! I like it. The skin is crunchy and peppery, and yet the meat isn't tough or overdone. It's a tangy, succulent taste treat. I give it four dirty diapers out of five!
Back off, Zeus! Don't even think about it.
(Not pictured: "Cookie ... one?")

Saturday, April 30, 2011

Lord, Protect My Child

I have a new favorite among NJ's books -- a slim little volume of genius called "Forever Young." That title sounds familiar, you say? It should -- the book's text is the classic, feel-good Bob Dylan song of the same name. America's greatest songwriter has penned many tunes that could be transformed into novels, but "Forever Young" is more of a hopeful Irish toast of a song, something the man wrote when he wasn't feeling quite his usual cynical, acerbic self. Paul Rogers does a great job of matching illustrations to the lyrics that are relevant, but not on-the-nose visual repeats of the words. Much, much better than some children's book penned by the personal assistant of a celebrity. Perhaps Rogers can come up with some drawings for "Ballad of a Thin Man" next. (Might keep the kids up at night, though.)

Forever Young

May God bless and keep you always
May your wishes all come true
May you always do for others
And let others do for you
May you build a ladder to the stars
And climb on every rung
May you stay forever young
Forever young, forever young
May you stay forever young

May you grow up to be righteous
May you grow up to be true
May you always know the truth
And see the lights surrounding you
May you always be courageous
Stand upright and be strong
May you stay forever young
Forever young, forever young
May you stay forever young

May your hands always be busy
May your feet always be swift
May you have a strong foundation
When the winds of changes shift
May your heart always be joyful
May your song always be sung
May you stay forever young
Forever young, forever young
May you stay forever young

Copyright © 1973 by Ram's Horn Music; renewed 2001 by Ram’s Horn Music

My favorite thing about the book is when I read it to her, I can break into my Dylan impression (mid-'70s Dylan, as seen in "The Last Waltz," for example) whenever I want -- and it's completely relevant. "Foreeeeeeeeeeeeeeverrr yoooooooooooooooooooooong, Foreeeeeeeeeeeeeeverrr yooooooooooooooo-ooo-oooooooooooooooong, may yooooooooooooou staaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa-aaay-haaaaaaay, Faaah-ev-ah yuuuuuuuuuuung." I am really, really good at that.

But enough about my favorite children's book, right? What's NJ's favorite book, you ask? Doesn't matter! I'm writing this, not her. Check back in 10 years, maybe she'll have learned to type by then.

Tuesday, April 26, 2011

NJ Has Two Grandmas

We went to Texas last week to visit my parents, who were delighted to get the chance to spoil the little kid rotten. It was quite a time for NJ -- she was pretty discombobulated, but still managed to have some fun. The last time this set of grandparents saw her was way back in June, when our elaborate plot to have them babysit while The Wife and I got our Vertigo on fell through thanks to Bono's back woes. In the past 10 months, of course, NJ has blossomed into a completely different person. A person who didn't recognize Grandma and the man that, for the moment, we'll call "Grandpa."

First things first: On the flight down, NJ was a dream. We waited almost two hours on the plane while a repair crew fixed a dent in some part of a wing, and she was a trooper. Only once, after her lengthy nap, did she squawk, and it didn't last long.

Oh, Daddy, this 'heat and humidity' you keep talking about sounds divine!
At some point not long after we arrived, NJ assumed the role of the Shy Showoff. There was lots of flirting with my parents, but she wouldn't actually, you know, go to them. My father, in particular, was the victim of a lot of teasing -- NJ would watch him intently, and when she caught his eye she'd smile bashfully, cock her head and giggle. If he reached toward her, though, she'd turn her head and pull away. (She eventually turned her back on me, too, and would only consort with her mommy. Me, the guy who attended to her every need for the first year of her life. Sheesh.) NJ remembered that my mom is Grandma, but apparently thought the name applied to both grandparents because that's what she called my gray-bearded, mucho macho father, too. All week.

One day we went across the street to a day care center -- were Dad Solo himself graduated from kindergarten some 358 years ago -- to participate in the annual ritual of picking colored plastic eggs up off the ground and placing them in a basket. NJ and her mom hung around with some kids her age -- kids who were dying for some attention, apparently, because The Wife was overrun with children as soon as she stepped in the room. They waved books until she cracked one open and started reading. I went in next, and likewise was swarmed. By two cute girls in particular, Rain and Kendall. After hanging around for a few minutes, it was time to head outside for Easter egg hunting. NJ ended up with four, I think. Then, it was off for some real fun -- at a Goode Company barbeque joint.

Beautiful, right? Cute kid, too.
The next day we headed to Moody Gardens in Galveston, where NJ took yet another aquarium by storm, backing up and squealing when the giant seal swam right toward her in its glass-sided tank and watching intently as some sort of shark made the rounds in a different tank. She really started to show some travel fatigue here, though. The two-hour time difference, new surroundings, a new bed, a notable decrease in the number of available toys, problems sleeping, the climate -- these things all took their toll on the kid, and when we decided to wait another 15 minutes to see the penguins get fed, she tantrumed up right there on the floor. (There were lots of tantrums on this trip.) We hit a park that afternoon for some slide-and-swing action, one of two we visited that Dad Solo prowled as a youngster. NJ wasn't too impressed by that, though.

Daddy crawled through here decades ago? Who frickin' cares!
NJ had lots of fun on Saturday, when we journeyed an hour-plus to the other side of Houston to see Dad Solo's best-friend-since-first-grade and his family. Best friend's wife and two daughters went above and beyond playing with NJ, and they saved the hides of myself and The Wife by buying swim diapers so the kid could get in their pool. NJ loved it, even though she wouldn't leave her spot sitting on a step next to her mommy.

Go to the jacuzzi and cut sharp to the right, curl pattern in front of the inflatable turtle. On two!
That was her favorite part of the visit. Mine was when she picked up a male doll and said "Daddy," then a little girl doll she called "Baby," then a "Mommy" to round it out. She put Daddy on a dollhouse bed, then Mommy right next to him, then fussed around a bit before adding Baby right between them. Then she moved them all around and shook the bed and knocked all three dolls off of it. I marveled at her dramatic/artistic chops and keen insight into the familial condition.

When we got home we told my father that NJ had identified one of my friend's pieces of artwork as "Grandma." It was supposed to make him feel better (mind you, he took it all in good humor), but I don't think it did.

Sweetheart, that ain't no one's Grandma.
By the time we were ready to come home, NJ's sleeping patterns were completely whacked (the three of us slept in the same room, so I heard it all), and her pre-flight nap didn't do much good. At the airport, as we were saying our goodbyes, my father hugged me and reminded me that they're scheduled to visit us here in Seattle in June. "Every day between now and then," he said, "I want you to show her a picture of me and say 'Granddad' until she gets it." (So far, not so good -- although I think she may be working toward a "Dad-Dad." I hope that'll be OK with him.) Much like our first flying experience with her, one flight went really well and one flight went really not-so-well. And you've already read that the flight to Houston was a good one, so ...

Heat and humidity,' huh? The heck with that! No way!
So bad that I turned my iPod up extra-loud. So bad that we registered our first blatant "shut that kid up" stare from a fellow passenger -- blatant enough that we actually saw it. (Not "we," I guess, just The Wife. I missed it. If I'd seen it, I'd have had a chance to hone my It's My Turn speech.) Halfway through the flight she finally crashed and slept the rest of the way while some other toddlers howled and wailed. (Take that, dirty look-giving woman!)

After a day home Monday, NJ went back to day care today and, now, seems to be her old self again. As I mentioned, my parents are coming up here in about five weeks. Also, there's another trip to Connecticut coming later this year, to see The Wife's folks. At least two more opportunities for NJ to bond with her four grandparents. And to get it straight on the whole Grandma/Grandma thing. I'm working on it, Dad.