wild*life

My mom likes to say that watching Jakey is like renting a car: You need a diagram to mark every nick, scrape, and ding when you take him off the lot so you’re not held responsible when you return him.  Ha HA Mom, you’re so clever

Fortunately, I’ve found a book that has just such a diagram.  Although, we may have to upgrade to the new toddler version. 

Budget Rent A Baby Paperwork

Please pick-up the baby diagram and your keys upon leaving the living room.  Don’t forget to note any impetigo, eczema, new teeth, runny nose, itchy eye, or stomach issues before driving off.  Note all fuel stops.  The baby preferably takes unleaded, organic, local fruits and vegetables.  The consequences of using full octane ice cream, cookies, sugar, or bacon are not recommended and not the responsibility of the baby rental company.  Please return the baby with a full tank and an empty exhaust system.

We sincerely appreciate your business and hope to see you again soon!

Love,

The Management, Budget Rent A Baby

This week was my first week at my new job.  I had to go to a beautiful hotel in Healdsburg, eat gourmet food, sleep undisturbed all night long, and go wine tasting.  Why did I stay in engineering so long?…

Text, 7:49pm:

Jake crawled all around the house.  Looking and saying “mama?” all night.  (I feel tears prickling my eyes.)

Text, 9:11am:

Thank your lucky stars you were not here this morning.

One word, EXPLOSION!  I’m glad his pjs zip up for containment.  (Hmmm, maybe one night away wasn’t such a bad idea after all…)

I have a new weight loss plan.  It involves feeding half of whatever I’m eating to the little monkey that follows me around like those seagulls in Junior High school.

Last night I was eating a particularly child unfriendly meal.  Crab cakes, red peppers stuffed with spicy goat cheese, and asparagus.  I was hesitant to feed shell fish to a 1-year-old minus one day, but threw caution to the wind.  He couldn’t get enough.  I fed him goat cheese with red pepper flakes that had quite a kick.  He wiggled and danced and grunted na na (translation: more).  He didn’t bat an eyelash at the asparagus.  He cried when it was all gone.

We’ve fed this baby ginger and pork potstickers soaked in vinegar.  Blue cheese, goat cheese, pepper jack cheese; cioppino, dill pickles, brussel sprouts, figs, farro with garlic, salmon covered in spicy salsa, Pad Thai, BBQ chicken (this got a smiley face at school), amarinth (I don’t even know if I’ve ever eaten this), spicy sausage, plain Greek yogurt, scrambled eggs… the list goes on and on.  His usual diet is mostly yes peas, thank you carrots, sweet potatoes, baby dahl (lentils & veggies), and mama grain (bananas w/ black beans).

Every so often he’ll grimace and gag, but the little hatch continues to open.  The only thing I saw him outright refuse was called Bollywood.  It was some kind of organic Indian baby curry.  I don’t really blame him because I secretly avoid curry myself.  I sent the second serving of it with him to school.  He likes them so much I figured it was worth a try… and I was desperate that morning to scrape something together for his lunch.  The Bollywood didn’t come home.

The other night, Mr. Grumplemoose reminded me of those career tests you take in high school and it got me thinking… what will Jakey be when he grows-up?  Unfortunately for Jake, Laundry Unfolder is not yet recognized as a true occupation; however, he has shown an aptitude for several potential jobs, albeit most are not quite professions.  Here’s the run-down:

• Art Critic: From birth to about 4 months, Jacob was transfixed by the painting over our couch.  Wild horses couldn’t drag him away.
• WWF Wrestler: See previous post.  He’s added several new moves and he’s always rocked a good costume.
• Drummer: Everything is a drum. The ottoman, the table, the window, his knees, my face.  Apparently anything can be turned into a percussion instrument.  He even bangs the drumsticks together a couple of times before he starts on an all-out, no holds-barred, drum solo.  He also has that wrist-whipping action down for maximum volume.
• Professional Eating Contestant: Can you make any money at this?  You might think I should be considering food critic, chef, or restaurateur… Nope.  His tastes are not discerning and he has shown zero predilection for cooking.  According to Wikipedia, he might even be able to pull down a little cash, “professional eating contests often offer $10,000 or more in prize money.”  This one seems to be a leading contender.
• Architect or maybe Handyman?: Lately he is quite fascinated with door hinges, moldings, and other architectural details.   He even gave our chest an “antiqued finish” just the other night with the corner of a block.  Or again, maybe that was Drummer…
• Dentist: How could I have forgotten to add this one to the list?  Jakey is fascinated by teeth.  He loves to inspect them.  The other day, we were riding the GenenShuttle and I kid you not, he stuck his entire fist in my mouth.  James would say this says more about the size of my mouth than Jake’s future.  If dentist doesn’t work out, Ear, Nose & Throat Specialist is also a serious possibility.
• Repo Man: Teacher Linda C., “Henry’s mommy packed him a cookie.  She made these homemade oatmeal cookies and Jacob grabbed it with both hands and tried to eat it.  Maybe you should make him some of his own cookies.”  Uh, Jake didn’t do this because they were homemade cookies.  He would have grabbed a bar of soap if he saw someone else eating it.  I am a good Mommy.  I am!

When I was preggers, I got an e-mail every week from BabyCenter.com telling me approximately how big the baby was (http://www.babycenter.com/slideshow-baby-size).  Heirloom tomato, spaghetti squash, rutabaga, 4 navel oranges, and jicama stick in my memory.  I would update my prenatal yoga class each week when we did our roundtable.  I remember I was terrified when I secretly looked ahead and saw the little vegetables enter the melon family.  I silently prayed I would never get to “pumpkin week.”

I still get these weekly e-mails but they aren’t nearly as good.  They’re all about the dangers lurking around every corner that will kill or maim your toddler… stroller recalls that will decapitate your fingers, formula in China, vaccines, car seats.  Why can’t they at least add a little tidbit on “The Size of Your Kid This Week”?  I’m thinking they could add tools and small appliances to the mix: toaster, microwave, window air conditioning unit, table saw, mini fridge.  Jake is about the size of a space heater this week.

Hey BabyCenter.com… are you reading this?

Your 11-month-old: Week 4

This morning I woke-up at exactly 5am.  5:00.  I’m not really sure why I’m still setting my alarm clock.

I’ve tried to break-up with my alarm clock in the past.  Two years ago I looked at my Sony Cube and thought… Hmmmmm, maybe it’s time to upgrade from the clock/radio I’ve had since fourth grade?  I did research.  I read reviews.  I asked for the ideal clock/radio for Christmas.  It’s truly beautiful.  But it’s on James’ side.  I tried to adjust and I just couldn’t make the switch.  I love the simplicity, the reliability, the sheer quality of my 1980’s clock/radio.  I’m really beginning to wonder if it might actually outlive me…

And yet once again, the Sony Dream Machine has competition.  A few weeks ago we lost power in the middle of the night.  My Jake-up call roused me from a deep sleep.  The Sony Cube was black.  Jakey TV was dark.  I stumbled down the hall to the kitchen to find my cell phone.  5am.

The Sony Dream Machine (ICF-C120)

News Flash…  Jacob speaks English!  Well, “speak” may be an exaggeration…  But there was finally evidence of minor understanding.  It was truly shocking.

He’s shown some recognition of his name for awhile.  Last week when we were watching the disappointment that was Olympic snowboarder, Lindsey Jacobellis (is this too harsh?), Jakey’s head whipped around like it was on a string.

Then he noticed the sock monkey Kia commercial during one of the thousand Olympic commercial breaks, http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=NBh3r2mVFR8, and James said, “Where’s your sock monkey?”  And then Jake actually got his sock monkey and said, oooh, oooh, aaaah aaaah (the monkey sound).  I was pretty skeptical of this story at the time.  Until the next day when he clearly got his ball and his rubber ducky on demand.

Sock monkey, ball, rubber ducky.  Three words I know I use on a daily basis…

We have dark circles under our eyes…  We yawn during the day… We have to hit the snooze button three times before dragging ourselves out of bed.  Well of course, you say.  You’re parents of an 11-month old!

Au contraire.  We are addicted to the Olympics.  Now before I get into this topic of the Olympics, I must note that it’s unclear exactly when, but several weeks ago some kind of baby switch flipped and now Jakey loves to sleep all night.  We just lay him down in his crib and then zonk… we don’t hear from him until 5am, sometimes as late as 7:30 on weekends.  I’ve decided that maybe there just comes a time when babies are ready to sleep and that training and book advice and all that doesn’t have a whole lot to do with it.  At this point I don’t know and I don’t care.  This is heaven.

OK so back to the Olympics.  I am a self-professed Olympoholic.  I don’t know why I never noticed this before, but James seems to be even worse than me.  The other night I told him it was time for us to go to bed and he said, “For good?”  No, let’s go to bed for a little while and then once we’re refreshed, get back up to watch women’s moguls… ?!

Anyway, the last few Olympic games I figured we had to stay up watching the actual gold medal rounds at 11:30pm because there was some kind of international broadcasting time difference that had to be tolerated.  It was painful, but it was a fact of physics or the international time-space continuum or something.

According to timeanddate.com, it is THE EXACT SAME TIME in Vancouver, British Columbia as it is in San Jose, California.  I repeat… THE EXACT SAME TIME.  And therefore I am really racking my brain as to why I’m going to have to stay up until 10:30pm tonight I’m sure, to see if Apolo Anton Ohno is going to win another gold medal.  How can this be?

I blame NBC.  When I was a little girl, back in my most formative years… when I developed this addiction to the Olmpics… I remember heartwarming family dinners at the game table in the living room.  It was the only time, every 4 years, that we were allowed to eat dinner in front of the TV.  We were the picture of perfect American family bliss– enjoying our steak and baked potatoes while being wowed by Mary Lou Retton, Nadia Comaneci, Peekaboo Street, Carl Lewis, Kristi Yamaguchi, and Tanya Harding.

How are the kids of today going to develop into Olympoholics if they’re all in bed during the best footage?!  If we start to have fewer U.S. Olympians without the competitive spirit and drive needed to bring home gold, don’t forget, it’s NBC’s fault.  We’ve all been warned about the inevitable fall of the American superpower… who knew that TV broadcasters would be to blame?

Yes, you read it here first.  I’ll probably be citing this blog post knowingly when I’m 90 and the U.S. medal count is equivalent to the historic achievements of Bahrain.

On February 1st, Jakey and I were playing a little game of Pineapple Upside Down Jake while waiting for the bus.  Here comes his third tooth!  Pretty soon he’ll look like this…