wild*life

Top Ten Signs Jacob is Sleepy:

10. He lays his head down on things… pillows, the floor, a shoe… then pops up real quick and turns in circles.

9. When he’s in his car seat and his dad says, “Shut your eyes, Jakey.”  He has to rub his eyes.  It’s like some kind of Pavlovian response.  You can say it 5 times and every time, he’ll reach up and rub his eyes.  It’s hard to resist torturing him like this because it’s so funny.

8. Slow breathing.

7. The tired sigh.  He’s been sighing like this since he was born.

6. Unexplained back arching and uncontrollable grumpiness.

5. He gets very quiet.

4. He stares off into space.  He may be sleeping with his eyes open.

3. Sometimes his little hands freeze in mid-air, in strange positions, like he’s waltzing with another invisible baby.

2. His vocabulary is reduced to “nigh-nigh.” (pacifier)  Over and over and over.  And over.

1. And the number one sign Jakey is tired?… His little pointer fingers are rubbing under the collar, the sleeve, the bottom of his shirt, or yours.

An older picture of Jake, post Top 10.

This morning I was going out a door at work and one of the cafeteria employees was pushing this big cooler outside for the outdoor lunchtime barbecue.  I hold the door for him and he’s whistling. 

As I walk away, I realize the tune… “can you tell me how to get, how to get to Sesame Streeeeeet…”

I could not stop smiling.  I’m thinkin’ he might have kids.

Yesterday afternoon Jake and I were doing laundry after an unplanned visit to Dr. Nancy’s for a “rash.”

As I was sorting clothes, I sneezed.

“Bless you.”

It was like a Miss Manners lightening bolt came down from the sky and struck me down.  It was truly a miracle.  We have blocked off the laundry room as a sacred site.  Hoards of Politeness Pilgrims are, no doubt, on their way.

Last night at dinner we were playing our usual game of Quiz Jakey.

“Jacob, who’s that?”

“Dada.”

“That’s right.  Good job!  Who am I?”

“Mama.”

“Yes!  Mama.  Who are you?”

“Joe!”

Huh?…

His obsession with phones began early.  As soon as he could take his little pointer finger and scroll… scroll.  First the TV remote was a phone.  One of my cedar shoe trees has found new life as a phone.  The baby monitor and the real phone are clear handset stand-ins; pretty much anything can be held up to one ear, “i-Yo!”  (Translation: Hello)

But, one phone has truly reigned supreme… apparently even 1-year olds cannot resist the irresistible design and once revolutionary user interface of the iPhone.  Love at first site.

After a near disasterous SIM card incident with Dada’s iPhone, Jake received his very own hand-me-down iTouch.  (How many iDevices can one American family own, that they can afford to give a previously several hundred dollar electronic device to a 16 month old?)  He likes to hold it up to his face and say “Cheese.”  Miss Dulce must tell them to say “cheese” at school when she’s taking pictures.

The biggest news in the world of i-Yos is that about 3 weeks ago, Jake and I had our first 2-way i-Yo conversation.  It was exhilarating.  Yes, exhilarating.  After almost a year and a half of talking animatedly to complete silence on the other end of the line, this was a true break-through.  He used to just stand with a look of complete astonishment that a familar voice was coming out of the phone.  According to my mom, he mostly just pushed it away.

Our first i-Yo conversation went something like this:

“i-Yoooo, Jakey, it’s Mama!”

“i-Yo Mama!”

“I miss you so much.  What are you doing?”

“Ah ba ya blah ga.  Bama.  Ha ha!”

“WooooW.  I love you.  Bye bye, Jakey.  Bye bye.”

“Bye bye!”

Yes I know.  Unbelievable, right?  What will Apple come up with next?

Back in June, I had a week-long business trip to Miami.  Jake was almost 15 months old and when I came home, he just stood there and cried.  I tried to hug him but he wouldn’t have it.  That was when I realized he was pissed.

About three weeks ago, James and I went out of town together to Nicole’s wedding in Napa.  Jakey spent the weekend with his grandparents.  When he came home, he was exhausted.  He laid on his daddy’s chest and gave me the stink eye for at least half an hour.  He wasn’t mad at his dad for being gone.  Nope.  Just me.  His horrible, unloving mommy.  Boy can he hold a grudge.

But, two can play this game.  For example, there was about a two week period when Jakey was very little when he called several women “Mama.”  Including the director at school, Sylvia.  Sylvia is African-American.  She’s the one who called Jacob the anti-birth control.  Now at the time, I figured this might be common.  One of the new babies named Nicholas would inch his way over to me every time I came to visit and call me Mama until I picked him up.  And Nicholas was Chinese.  Two weeks.  It went by fast.

I recently wrote about how all men were “Dada.”  The problem?  Now I’m Dada.  This has been going on for weeks, maybe months.  At Angela’s bridal shower I went into the house and I hear “Dada!! Dada!”  Yes?  I prefer Mama. MAMA.  He gets this knowing smile and then says Mama.  Really just to appease me.  Every night at dinner, “More, more Da-dee!”  Now he’s been calling us both Da-Ya.  My mom thinks that’s his specific name for his granddad… unfortunately it is gaining traction in a variety of daily conversations.

The omnipresence of my new nom de guerre is starting to wear on me.  I’ve been getting a little grudgey myself.  Like I won’t give him another bite at dinner till I hear Mommy… More, more Mo-mee.

I’ve been in DC the last three days and am dreading being mad dogged when I get home.  Jake’s just lucky that I’m not that good at holding grudges.  Apparently last night he woke-up in the middle of the night and yelled “Mama!”

I feel my defenses crumbling already.

Dear, dear Ne,

Happy birthday!  We miss you so, so much.  I miss the little individually-wrapped warm ham and cheese sandwiches you make… and your pot roast.  I think of you every time I see anything to do with dachshunds… which seems like every time I go into a shop these days.  I think of you when I see the little girls in their Catholic uniforms at the Millbrae train station.  And when Jake and I use the froggie bath towel you gave him.  I miss you most when I’m in the backyard at Kristen and Jay’s. 

You would have been immensely proud of your daughter at the memorial.  She was so strong and articulate.  She described what a special bond you built and and how you changed her life.  And she didn’t even call you her “evil stepmother” 🙂

I look at Jakey’s little arms and I think of you.  How the first time you held him, you joked that he kept flipping you off.  And gave me a hard time for “putting rubberbands around his little arms and wrists.”  You would hardly believe it Grandma Ne… the little chubby creases are almost gone.

I’ll never forget our last brunch at Left Bank, just before Sex and the City 2.  As always, your smile and stories warmed my heart, and I reluctantly went home when our girlie outing was over.

I just wanted you to know that we are thinking about you, every single day, and miss you more than words can say.  Happy birthday.

All my love,

jaimie

Tonight we’re eating dinner at the kitchen table and I was browsing this little booklet put out by BABI (http://www.bayareabirthinfo.org/).  My prenatal yoga teacher said there were recommended daycare resources in this booklet… regretably, she was mistaken.

Of course, I’m commenting on the varied and strange categories listed in this booklet such as: Belly Casting (I see my first prenatal yoga teacher is one of three resources listed), Herbalist, Hypnotherapy, Rolfing (do I want to Google this?) and Placenta Encapsulation (I know I definitely don’t want to Google this).  Hmmmm, Infant Massage.  Jake is relaxing in his high chair, enjoying his flank steak and asian pears.

“Jakey, would you like an infant massage?”

“YES!”

It was hilarious.  Maybe you had to be there…

Last night, Geoffrey George, got hitched.  It was a beautiful wedding.  Warm weather, a breathtaking view, delicious food and elated couple.

Jake was pretty tired by the time the ceremony was about to get underway.  Three days of wedding rehearsals, dinners, parties and brunches (he skipped two nights of evening drinks) were finally catching-up to him.  We line-up to begin the procession and Jakey is suddenly hit by a round of the “stomach issue” he and Mommy have been suffering all week.  Literally, we are supposed to walk down the aisle and I smell “something.”  Uh oh.  Really?  Right now?

My dad says, “Well, we’re 45 minutes late.  What’s 5 more minutes while we change his diaper?”  We rush down to the back of the car.

So we’re back, refreshed, and waiting for our turn.  I test the situation to see if I can get Jake to “take the ring pillow to Dada!”  No such luck.  It’s a make it work moment.  I yank the nigh-nigh and carry him down the aisle in his little three-piece suit, quick drop him off with his Grandma and Granddad (“get out the Cheerios!” I hiss) and take my place.

“The good Reverend James” was amazing.  Truly, truly amazing.  His ceremony struck the perfect balance between humorous and heartfelt.  Everyone showered him with praise on how special it was.  I was mesmerized.  He was so handsome and confident, like he’s been marrying people for years.  I am so lucky.

Part way through, Jake jumps down and runs across the front to be with me.  It’s time for my story and reading so I step forward with my new “accessory.”  Apparently I didn’t miss a beat, despite the fact Jake was grabbing my dress, lifting it up, and several times, just putting his arms right up my skirt.  I maintained my modesty.

We went back to our spot and I picked him up per his less than hushed commands.  Then it seemed he planned to dart back across to his Grandma and Granddad.  I put him down, thinking it would be a short trip and hopefully only slightly disruptive.  Jake ran to the middle and then pulled a hard right.  He ran directly down the aisle, arms in the air.  One day you’re in, and the next, you’re out.  (Said in Heidi Klum’s accent, of course.)  If he could, I’m sure he would have yelled, “I’m free!”  Apparently, at that point, he was done getting married.

He never looked back.  He ran with unrestrained abandon, right past everyone and everything.  Auf Wiedersehen.

Fortunately, Uncle Jay jumped-up and gained on him…  I didn’t see him until Jay came back with him at least 20 minutes later, completely zonked out in his arms.  Jay is the baby-whisperer.

All in all, Project Runway was a success.  We overcame hard-soled shoes.  We braved pictures and parties and dress-up clothes.  And Auntie Angela and Uncle Geoff were beaming: the picture of happiness.  *contented sigh*

As a parent, you come up with new ways to get things done.  Time is precious.  Energy is fleeting.  Lately I’ve noticed James and I are also getting more clever.  It goes something like this…

From the living room I hear: “Jakey, take this to Mama.  Take this to Mama!”  (The sound of little footsteps running…)

“Oh wow, thank you Jacob!  A dirty sock.  Wow thank you.”  (Mommy really needs to get dressed for work.)  “Jake.  Where’s Dada?  Go find Dada.”  (Quick, throw on my pants.  Run to the bathroom to put on my make-up.  A few moments of peace.)

“Jakey.  Tell Mama to brush your teeth.”  (Slap mascara on.  Deoderant.)  “Oh hi Jake.  Where’s your ball?  Go find your ball.”  (Get to the kitchen.  Put my tea in a travel cup.)

(Without warning, he’s back.)  “Mama’s almost ready.  Take this to Dada in the bedroom.  Take this to Dada.”

“What is this?!  Trash?  Why would Dada want this?”  (It’s not trash exactly, it’s just the wrapper from my tea bag.)

Later that night I find the “trash” stuffed into my pillowcase.  Maybe James will find a dirty sock in his…