No It All

On January 31st, James and I had our first joint parent teacher conference with Miss Dulce.  It was very positive and she said Jakey is getting ready for literacy.  I’m assuming this means correctly identifying letters given his current penmanship?  He’s also started transitioning to the next “big boy” classroom where apparently it’s much more fun but they nap an hour later, an hour less, and you no longer get a daily paper with all the details of his day.

In any case, he has started to see “numbers”… everywhere.  Just for clarity’s sake, numbers are code for both numbers and letters.  At the Stanford Mall this weekend he stopped in front of a big sign with the price of oranges on it, “Numbers!”  On TV we see “Numbers!”  When driving in the car, the Meineke car shop’s sign really got his attention, “Numbers!”  And in the morning he likes to get one of James’ books off the table and show me “the number hammer” (all T’s that he can see in the text).  James says he’s also been using his finger to follow along with the words when they read books.

By far my favorite was when we were in the parking lot on our way to Whole Paycheck.  We passed by “DressBarn” and it was like he was struck by lightening, “Numbers!”

Now I must pause for a moment and ask the unrelated, but entirely reasonable question, why would anyone name a store DressBarn?

Can you imagine the corporate conference room during that discussion?  On calendar it probably said, “Store Name Meeting.”  They all get around the conference table and someone throws-out the idea, “DressBarn.”  Oh yes.  Yes.  Love it.  Dresses– that’s what we sell.  Barn.  Women love barns.  Cows love barns.  Women love being associated with cows.  I think we have a winner…

I still can’t comprehend it.

Jakey has been saying some pretty cute things these days.  A list of my favorites:

• “Up or down.  Up or down.”  (Clearly he wants up, but for some reason he’s added this second option, as though he’s giving us a choice.)

• “Seat down, Mama.  Seat down.”  (This week in the middle of the night we heard, “Seat down chair.  Seat down chair.”)

• “Hugs, keeses.”

• “Tum, Mama.  Tum.”  (Come.  Always accompanied by an insistent beckoning hand gesture that’s sort of a mix between a backward wave and a one-handed clap.)

• After accidentally squirting himself in the eye with the baby rubber ducky in the tub, “Time out, Ducky.  Time out.”

• Every time I hand Jakey something, “Dane you, Mama.”

• When presenting me with freshly baked wooden cupcakes, “Tooooo Youuuuu, Hap Bir Tooooo Youuuuu.”

• Weeks ago, James’ dad came to visit but went home feeling really sick.  Since then, “Papa Otay?”

• Coming toward you really slowly with his little crab claw out, building up the suspense, and then attacking, ‘Teackle, teackle!”  (Tickle)

• When addressing the stuffed animal monkey he got from Uncle Brett for Christmas, “Monkey Mouse!”

• Running up to flowers and running his hands over them, generously putting on lip balm, when Mama pretends to apply mascara or blush, “Oooh preetie.  Preetie.”

• If asked to try on a hat while shopping, “Cute.  Cute.”

Preetie cute.

Yesterday was a beautiful sunny day, and Jakey’s first trip to the Monterey Bay Aquarium.  We saw otters, fishies, birdies, flamingos, pelicans, jellyfish, sharks and whales.

On the walk from the parking lot to the wharf we witnessed numerous bicycles as they whizzed toward us.  A man with a helmet approached at top speed.  “Bicycle.  Helmet.”

“Saaaaanta!”  Yes, he had a long gray beard.  (It’s hard to describe in words how he says Santa.  It’s kind of like when an adult is talking to a little kid in that incredulous tone, “Naaaaaaaaa.  You don’t like candy, do you?”  Or when someone rubs their hands together in a greedy, scheming kind of way?  It really requires a verbal impression…)

Then we had lunch and set Jake free on the wharf.  He had a grand time running around chasing birdies, falling in front of tourists, and generally performing some sort of interpretive dance.  For some reason it’s more effective if you lunge forward and spin around with martial arts-like arm movements.  I’m pretty sure I witnessed drool leaving his mouth with the centrifugal force … especially when chasing birdies right into certain open-air restaurants.  We got two ice cream cones as Jake continued to terrorize unsuspecting birdies (and tourists) around the plaza.

When I was little, I remember there was a dancing monkey in that plaza.  It was always the highlight of visiting the wharf.  I gave Jakey some bites of my ice cream and he proceeded to dance with happiness, “baila, baila.”

Apparently this plaza still features a dancing monkey.

For Christmas, Jakey got a lot of new toys… He’s been baking hundreds of cupcakes, cutting fruit (hi-ya!) and loading it into a truck with his shovel, riding his bicycle with a hat on (his “helmet”) and spending significant time in his vintage fire “enen” (we encourage engine over truck).

Santa also got him a baby doll and stroller.  One, to help him get used to the idea of a baby in the house and two, to address the stroller pushing obsession he developed in DC when visiting all sorts of little girls.  Tears literally and instantly spring from his eyes (without touching his cheeks) if you tell him he can’t push his stroller but must ride in it.

Unfortunately the holidays really messed with his sleep schedule.  He’s just now finally returning to normal.  For several weeks he would wake-up in the middle of the night and cry the following pitiful sequence: Mama, Mama, Mama… Daddy, Daddy, Daddy… Agua, agua, agua (this worked to get me up just before Christmas when he truly was burning-up with a fever.  Once something works, stick with it, right?)… Baby Cillo, Baby Cillo, Baby Cheeeeeeeeeeeeeeeello.  Meanwhile Baby Cillo is laying right next to him so I’m not exactly sure how he’s going to save him.  I’m just happy to have maintained my standing.

In any case, Jakey has really taken to Doll Baby Cillo.  He doesn’t like any of his other “guys” as much as Baby Cillo.  Harry Elefante lives in his crib, but never even gets a hug.

Every night Jake brushes Cillo’s teeth.  He lets him have some of his baba.  He tells us when “Baby Cillo” is tired.  We are constantly searching for Cillo’s hat.  Changing his diaper.  Wrapping him in blankets.  Last night Cillo sat in Daddy’s chair at the dinner table.  Cillo has his own little “nigh-nigh” and the crazy thing is, Jake has lost all recollection of his pacifier.  It’s truly shocking how successful Operation Bye-Bye Nigh-Nigh has been.

But my favorite Baby Cillo trick is that he turns off light switches every night.  At first he used his little plastic hands.  Then his feet.  Two nights ago Cillo turned off two light switches with his head.  So last night Jakey turned off the bathroom light switches with his head.  He’s quite the talented and creative doll baby.

I probably should spring for the doll baby accessories that include an appropriately sized diaper.  Seventh Generation brand just doesn’t seem to fit him right.

Yesterday James and I walked to Peet’s in the afternoon.

James: “Wow.  Why are there so many birds in the sky?”

Jaimie: “I don’t see any birds.”

James: “See all those white birds, way up there?  How can you not see that?”

Jaimie (squinting to see tiny white specks, literally thousands of feet in the air).

Like father, like son.

Growing-up, I distinctly remember a time in high school when my mom was constantly lamenting the car insurance bills.  I don’t really know how it was possible, but the number eight sticks in my mind.  Eight?!  We had four drivers… can my memory possibly serve me correctly?

Let’s see.  I had the Geo Metro.  My mom had her red car.  My brother had his TR3A.  But of course you can’t drive an antique car every day, so I think he also might have driven Harrison Ford.  Then my dad had his work car, plus he always has a farm truck.  And then the ’59 Caddy and another vintage car?  Yep.  Eight.  Memory like a steel trap.

My dad has never appreciated my cheeky remarks about the garage being an antique car museum.

It looks as though Jakey may take after his granddad.  I’ve counted six, SIX vehicles… and he isn’t even two yet!

Obviously you can’t drive a vintage fire engine every day… it will end up breaking down and then the women in your life will begin to comment on its reliability and the costs of keeping it running.  So, clearly his bicycle is more of the daily workhorse.  Not to be confused with his workhorsey… which is really more for weekend transportation.  Plus everyone needs a farm truck, and a wagon, for when you have to haul wood for home improvement projects and such.  And then there’s the sporty stroller for weekend getaways up the coast.  You’ll notice they’re all convertibles…

Typical.

This afternoon Cillo put on his/her own halftime show during Super Bowl XLV (45).

Both James and my dad noticed the belly dance that was occurring at my end of the couch.  Perhaps it was the hamburger, chocolate cheesecake cupcake or potato skins that were on today’s menu?  Swiss chard tried to steal the spotlight… hoping to make an impression on the usual Super Bowl caloriefest buffet.  Will we see more obscure vegetables next year?

Unlikely.  But it definitely upstaged the Black Eyed Peas.

Jake’s car seat has been facing forward for quite some time now.  He loves it because he’s part of the conversation… and he’s like a little king in his backseat thrown, declaring, proclaiming, and decreeing his every thought.

Frankly, I’ve been ignoring the majority of the important comings and goings of the world around me, for the bulk of my life.  For example, I was completely unaware of the number of goggies (doggies) in the world.  In our neighborhood alone there are gazillions.  Followed closely by quite a few tee tats (kitty cats).  And birdies.  Our copilot is also acutely aware of “Running, running!” (joggers), airplanes, choo choos and Mama choo choos, caws (cars), hats, bicycles and helmets, “big bus” (buses), and trucks (still beginning with an f).

Over the last week or two, both my mom and James have experienced several moments of pause when we were passed by a “big truck.”  I was a bit more panicked when our car was overtaken by a fire truck.

Jakey The Copilot

This week is my first official full week off on baby leave.  Hallelujah.  Technically last Friday was my first free day.  James and I spent our Fandango card which has been gathering dust since October and saw The King’s Speech– good one.  And we went out to lunch.  And we had cupcakes and bought closet organizers.  It was a nearly perfect day.

Since then, the little melon and I have been cleaning closets.  You are probably saying, “Oh Jaimie, you’re just nesting.”  That could be true.  But I’m also one of those weird people who would love a quiet day just to clean closets.  The elfa closet organizers we bought have a tagline that says “Happiness is a clean closet.”  I couldn’t agree more.  Those Swedes know what they’re talking about.

Now little Cillo has some space of their own in Jakey’s World.

I had to put in some volunteer hours at Jake’s school today and Miss Dulce suggested organizing their storage closet.  She looked a little sheepish about it.

It was great.

In October, at 19 months, we went against my better judgement and extensive research regarding kids and media (experts recommend no electronic media at all before you’re two).  A coast-to-coast flight was staring us in the face and we were hopeful that cartoons could be our saviour.  And then, for some reason, James couldn’t find our portable DVD player or couldn’t charge it or didn’t want to lug it around or told me that thing was a portable DVD player when in fact it was some other unidentifiable electronic gadget he didn’t want me to know about… I’m not sure.

“Pssst, hey kid.  Want to try a little Handy Manny?  First taste is free.”  I’d say James is now Jakey’s dealer… introducing an addiction, without gaining any benefits during four airplane rides.  When Jake sees his dad he says things like “Mo Manny!  Tools.  Cracker.”

For those of you who aren’t up on the latest programming on the relatively advertisement-free Playhouse Disney (soon to change, inexplicably, to Disney Junior), Handy Manny is a somewhat bilingual cartoon about a handyman named Manny.  I assume his name is Manuel.  Manny lives in Sheetrock Hills and has 8 tools: a saw (Dusty), a hammer (Pat), a tapemeasure (Stretch), pliers (Squeeze), a wrench (Rusty), a Phillips head screwdriver (Felipe), a flathead screwdriver (Turner), and a new Mexican flashlight (Flicker).

James’ favorite tool is Squeeze.  He thinks she’s cute.  I find it weird that she’s the only tool that hovers above the ground like a ghost.  I like Turner.  James has identified him as the voice of all the parents that have to watch this cartoon.  Turner says sarcastic things like, “Of course Kelly has a sleigh runner at her hardware store– now we can fix Santa’s sled,” and then rolls his animated eyes.  I think Jake’s favorite tool is Pat.  He is always talking about hammers.

There was one weekend over the holidays when James was holding an open house and Jake and I were entertaining ourselves at home.  Before I know it, Jake runs down the hall into the bathroom and shuts the door.  Ha ha!  Then what I have always dreaded would happen, happens.  I hear the “click” which means he has pushed the forbidden lock button.  Jakey has not yet mastered turning doorknobs, just shutting doors.

There I am on one side of the door and he’s locked on the other side.  In the bathroom.  Where there is water and irresistible rolls of toilet paper and a counter of potentially dangerous things he’s not allowed to touch but can reach if he pushes his potty bench over to the sink.

“Jakey, turn the knob.  Turn it.”

“Turn it.  Turn it.”

“Jakey, open the door.  No pushing the button!”  I feel my anxiety beginning to rise.  What if I have to break the bathroom window to save him?  It’s raining outside.  What do I do?

“Open, Mama.  Open!”

In a panic I get the phone and call James.  “Jakey is locked in the bathroom and I can’t get him out!  What do I do?”

“What can I do about it?  I can’t leave, I’m in Sunnyvale.”

So I ask myself, “What would Handy Manny do?”  (OK, I didn’t really ask myself this… but it makes for a better story.)

I run to the kitchen drawer and frantically search for something to poke into the lock.  Luckily this is one of our only doorknobs that has a hole on the hallway side of the lock… some of them don’t.  I take the flathead screwdriver and desperately shove it in the lock.  “Pop.”  It’s a miracle!  The door opens and I envelope the unscathed Jakey in hugs and kisses.  Crisis averted.

Handy Mommy.  Just another reason Turner is my favorite.