Fucillo Family Weblog

Tomorrow begins Jakey’s last week at the Gateway YMCA.  I’ve been sick about making this decision for over a month.  The day I gave Jake’s school notice that he was leaving, I came home and James had to give me a chocolate pudding cup and let me watch America’s Next Top Model.  It only helped a little bit.

Jakey has been going to the ladybug room since he was barely 4 months old.  I know if I did the math, he has spent more waking hours there than he ever has with James and me.  It has been such a wonderful, loving place for him.  Everybody knows Jakey and he gets TONS of hugs and kisses every day.  He even went through a short phase when he called Sylvia, the director, Mama.  Sylvia is African-American…  She told me my son was the anti-birth control.  Isn’t that just the sweetest?…

The only consolation is that Teacher Linda C. is retiring at the end of July.  So, I’ll be back on Caltrain before you know it.  Like the old old days when it was just me and my paperback.  Before I even had school books.  It’s hard to think about Jake being almost an hour away by car, but I know it will be better for everyone.  Being in the car has become exhausting and Jake starts to struggle and cry when he sees the car– knowing that he’s about to be trapped in his car seat.  I’m sure we’ll grow to love Saint Elizabeth’s.  

I had no idea changing schools would be so traumatic… for me.

I’ve decided maybe I should write a product review now and again.  Just to mix it up a bit.  I don’t really have a plan in terms of my criteria for what makes a good piece of baby equipment… it just is or it isn’t.

That said, my first review is on our high chair: the Boon Flair Standard High Chair

Babygizmo.com has a great video review (http://www.babygizmo.com/p/boon_flair_standard_high_chair/102113standard0.html).  My dearest friend Jamie described it best.  It looks like a modern barber chair.

I LOVE this high chair.  It really is the easiest thing to clean.  There aren’t any cracks or crevices collecting yucky baby gunk build-up.  One morning I woke up and went into the kitchen.  We’d fed Jake spaghetti with tomato sauce the night before and forgot to wipe down the armrests.  I silently freaked.  What if the chair is permanently dyed tomato sauce pink?!  Not to worry.  The white plastic is invincible.

We easily glide it from the dining room to the kitchen and back.  It doesn’t convert into 4 chairs like some high chairs.  But then again I sometimes wonder, what 4 kinds of chairs can a high chair transform into?  An Adirondack/massage/papasan/La-Z-Boy?  Does Jake really need to recline at the dinner table?  Hmmmm.

It has a little tray in front which works perfectly.  I do think it’s actually teaching Jake to eat in a small area.  Goodness knows we embrace anything that teaches him the wonderful lesson of containment.

In summary, on a scale of 1 to 5, I give the Boon Flair 5 Jakey Cakes.

Several months ago, Jakey realized he no longer had to be a passive receiver of zerberts, he could also hand them out.  So, whenever he sees a nice area of exposed skin, he leans over and blows on it.  I didn’t know you could zerbert someone’s calf, shoulder or knee, but apparently you can.  Although, I’m pretty sure Jake’s cheeks are the primary source of this irresistible noise…  irresistible to all boys– big and small.

Around the same time, we also taught him about belly buttons.  He’s shortened it to “button” and loves the game of lifting up shirts to look at buttons, and then blowing zerberts.  The danger is that he’s liable to do this outside the safety of our own home.  Apparently he’s been lifting up Teacher Linda C.’s shirt and yelling “button”!  Just be careful if you’re wearing a skirt.

At Jakey’s first birthday party, his Nonno noticed he was doing sign-language for “more.”  What a revelation!  Now we had a silent solution to our public dining dilemma.  Sign language is much less disruptive between every bite of sashimi.  Jakey’s sign for more is his right index finger pointed into the palm of his left hand (http://www.signingsavvy.com/sign/OWE).  His teachers at school must have been trying to reduce the lunchtime volume.

Someone recently questioned this sign as the one for “more.”  James went online to look it up.

Jakey’s sign for “more”?  Technically the sign for “owe” as in, “You owe me.”  Why am I not surprised?

Yesterday Jakey ate his first whole apple.  He said it was a ball.

When Jake was really little I noticed that as he was falling asleep at night, he would practice each of his “tricks.”  He’d say: Ga ga, ba ba, da da, click his tongue, clap his hands, and fall asleep.  It was kind of like a little computer shutting down.  Sometimes he would also do it on “start-up.”

These days we hear him talking and singing in his crib, after we’ve put him to bed.  I’m not sure exactly what he’s saying, but he’s probably saying: MORE, ba ba, bath time, button, ball, shoe, clapping his hands, brushing his hands off like they’re dirty, sign-language for “more”, nigh-nigh.

Last night…

Jaimie: What’s that orange thing outside on the porch?

James: A phone book.  (pause)  Add it to your blog…

Apparently this is Week O’ the Diatribe.

About five years ago, we looked at the three different phone books taking up space in our teensy weensy house and said– be gone with you!  Google has completely eclipsed any need for this baby booster seat.

I do remember the days when I was little, long long ago.  I would hoist the phone book onto the counter and look up the phone number for the 5 movie theaters in Santa Cruz. Then I’d frantically write down titles and times… These days, I pull up my handy-dandy free Fandago app to see the showtime.  Then, a Google map pinpoints my location, providing me turn-by-turn directions to the theater.

I am currently running for president of the household movement of two, to kill the phonebook.  I’m still recruiting Jakey to the cause.  It’s time to eliminate this paper version of the meter reader.  Have you even looked at what’s in the impermeable orange bag on your doorstep before dumping it straight in the recycling bin?  It’s actually two phonebooks.  The difference between them?  NO idea.  One is big and fat and what I would consider to be the typical phone book.  It says “The Real Yellow Pages” on the front, along with ads for a lawyer and a plumber.  The second one is a slimmer more petite version which says “The Real Yellow Pages” on the front, along with ads for two plumbers.  I’d be willing to bet that if I’m successful in my campaign to kill the phonebook, I will be sued by a plumber lawyer.

OMG, I just looked myself up and I’m actually in this antiquated doorstop.  This will not be good once it comes out on the campaign trail…

This week, in the world of utilities, we took one step forward with PG&E, and one step back with AT&T.  ”What would elderly people do?” you ask.  They’d probably use their iPhones, like the rest of us.  I’m sure the unemployment stats will tick-up as well with this proposal.  BUT, I propose we retrain and redeploy phonebook workers to iPhone app development.  We must end our dependence on foreign trees.  Just remember, I’m also the greenest candidate.  I propose we save a forest and put a big yellow sticky-note on the front of our phonebooks and place them back on the sidewalk.  The note should simply say: unsubscribe

OK, I’ll get off my soapbox, uh phonebook.

I just got the most overdue piece of mail from that innovator of all innovators, Pacific Gas & Electric.  It appears that PG&E has just joined us in the 21st century… welcome!

Unfortunately, for those economic data crunchers out there in dark rooms with big computers, there will be new jobless claims to add to the tally.  This piece of mail I’ve just received… announces the end of the meter reader.  GASP!

This ridiculous job is finally following its predecessor, the milk man.  No offense to you meter readers out there, but I’d be more apt to fight for the renaissance of the milk man… you should see how many sippy cups this kid drinks.

Dear meter readers and meter readettes of the United States, sometimes you just need a kick in the pants to update your skills.  I mean, it seemed a little crazy that a meter reader enters every side yard in America to write down energy usage each and every month, right?  You’re home in your skivvies and all of a sudden you duck down by the couch, “Who’s out there?… maybe its some raccoons?  Oh no, just the meter reader, phew.”

Almost 20 years ago when we all started using e-mail and the internet, you probably knew your days were numbered.  I bid you good luck in your future endeavors!  And if you’re looking for a steady milk delivery job, please feel free to knock on the side door during your final farewell visit.

Jacob is on the precipice of an addiction.  Up until now, he’s been pretty nonchalant.  Take it or leave it, whatever.  But now, now I am sensing the beginnings of a Nuk addiction.  James denies it… I have proof.

Hi, my name is Jaimie and I’m a recovering Nukaholic.  I’ve been sober for 28 years, 3 months, and 14 days.

As a fellow Nukaholic, I feel it is time for me to step in.  I don’t want Jakey to go through what I went through.  Let’s just say, I have two distinct Nuk-Nuk memories from childhood.  The first is when my mom took my Nuk-Nuk away and put it at the back of the counter of her bathroom sink.  I could clearly see it, but it was just out of reach.  Total torture.

The other memory is of laying on my back in the dentist chair staring up into a fuzzy light.  My mom and Dr. Ceresa are peering into my mouth.  “Her mouth is the shape of a pacifier.”  I swear, that’s what he said.  Obviously, my Nuk addiction was something fierce; my parents have my Nuk-Nuk dipped in pewter on their dining room hutch.

So, I’ve decided it’s time for Jakey to go on the new 12 Step program for Nukaholics.  Based on similarly successful programs, I’m hoping this will do the trick.  Otherwise, we’re going to have to reciprocate and send all the Nuk-Nuks to Washington DC to Baby Killoff…

Nukaholics Anonymous 6 Step Program

(I just learned that the original 12 Step program is way too churchy for my taste… who knew?!  It also can be condensed into 6 steps… I’ve always believed less is more.)

1. Admitting that one cannot control one’s addiction or compulsion.  (This is probably going to be the hardest step.  Jakey is in denial, and telling the truth is not his forte.  Tonight I took off his shirt and he had a clear bite mark on his shoulder.  Teacher Linda C. told me that one of the little girls was in trouble today for biting.  This anonymous little ladybug obviously bit Jake when no one was looking.  I asked, “Jakey, did Hannah bite you?”  “No.”  “Did Emi bite you?” “No.”  There aren’t any other girls in the ladybug class.  Jakey may be bad at admitting when he has a problem, but he’s obviously got your back.)

2. Recognizing a greater power that can give strength.  (Recognize the Mama.)

3. Examining past errors with the help of a sponsor (experienced member).  (I am fully qualified to be his NA sponsor.  I’m a familiar shoulder to cry on.  I answer late night calls.  I’m loving and tough when I need to be.  And I’ve conquered my addiction.  People who used to smoke always talk fondly about cigarettes.  I have to admit, I have tasted a Nuk in the last 6 months, but only because my little Nukaholic has been trying to recruit friends.  It’s been tough, but I’ve been able to resist his peer pressure.)

4. Making amends for these errors.  (Jake may be able to get through this step fairly unscathed as I’m not sure how many people he’s hurt due to his addiction.  HOWEVER, yesterday he was reprimanded for “hitting babies” at school.  I think he can start off with making amends with all the poor little babies he’s been hitting.)

5. Learning to live a new life with a new code of behavior.  (Perfectly stated– I wouldn’t change a thing.)

6. Helping others that suffer from the same addictions or compulsions.  (Luckily this is the last step of NA.  His current “help” would probably consist of popping the Nuk-Nuk out of someone else’s mouth, quick putting it in his own, and running off.)

Jakey, it’s going to be hard.  You’re not going to like it.  Your daddy and your grantmother will probably be a bad influence.  But I’m your NA sponsor.  One day at a time.  One day at a time.

We are all guilty of prejudice.  It’s human nature.  And we all know that prejudging is generally negative and implies fear and intolerance. 

I must confess, I discriminate against sippy cups.  Yes, it’s true.

There are two kinds of sippy cups in this world: the good and the bad.  The good kind work like a bottle; you tip them up like a cup to drink from them.  The bad kind look good but they’re not.  They look like baby sports bottles with fancy straws that bend when you close the top.  You sit upright and drink from them like a straw in a soda fountain glass.

How did this sippy cup prejudice originate, you ask?

It’s the 5 o’clock Jake-up call.  I stumble into the kitchen and put Jakey’s sippy cup in hot water.  He does not enjoy cold milk.  Once it’s warm I get him out of his crib, baby in one arm, sippy cup in the other.  I’m standing in the dark at the side of our bed and open the top before laying him by his dad to drink his breakfast.  Jake and I are both rudely awakened by a geyser of milk right in our faces.  I’m shocked and disoriented.  What is happening?!  I fumble with the baby and the evil sippy cup and somehow stop the source of the morning milk shower.

A few days later, poor Teacher Linda C. recounts a similar episode at school.  Sprayed in the face like a tricky clown flower.  We have now formed a club of two in our movement to keep bad sippy cups from entering our borders.  There is already an Arizona ballot measure in the works.