wild*life

For at least a year, Jakey’s favorite word has been “no.”  It used to be the response to just about everything.

“More cereal?”  “No.”
“Do you want a cookie?”  “No.”
“Do you want a million dollars?”  “No.”

Then a few months ago he started to mix it up with “nope” and “nah.”  The worst is when his face turns a deep red and he points his little finger up in the air and shakes with rage as he yells, “NOOOOO!”  As previously described, this is sometimes combined with tears springing from his eyes in defiance of gravity.

For maybe three weeks it’s like angels have descended from heaven and blessed us with the most miraculous word.  It’s a simple word, one you think you’ve heard a million times and would therefore be unremarkable… and then you hear it and it’s the most beautiful sound you’ve ever heard.

You guessed it: YES.

All of a sudden our questions are validated, endorsed, approved, confirmed.  “Yeah.”  “Yep.” “Yes.”  Accompanied by an affirmative nod.  I’ve never appreciated agreeableness so much.  It’s even better when followed by, “Daddy, Mama’s funny.”

Is this parenthood heaven?

Mini watermelon?!

Instead of thinking about produce I’m trying to focus on how excited we are to finally find out who Baby Cillo is.  I’m back on the fence about whether it’s a boy or a girl.  I just can’t tell this time.  It’s definitely not Baby Jake.  But it could be a gentle boy, like his daddy.  People have also been especially talkative when I’m out and about these days.  Either that or I’m looking more approachable than usual.  A run-down of the latest guesses:

The Chinese Baby Gender Predictor (http://www.thelaboroflove.com/chart/pred.html) says it’s a girl.  It said Jake was a girl.

During my last week of work, in the parking lot, I was hugged by an older Mexican nanny who’s daughter works at Specialty’s.  She said it’s a boy, practically kissed my stomach, and gave me a hug goodbye.

In Pizza Antica’s women’s restroom an elderly Eastern European lady declared it a boy, threw her paper towel away and left.

At Trader Joe’s, the mother of two daughters chatted me up while her husband stood quietly in the background.  She decided “boy” and wished me luck.

Jill’s mom, Laurie, is in the girl camp.  Her husband, Andy, is surprisingly confident in his “boy” prediction.

I’m totally undecided which is not like me.  It’s probably because some scientists just decided that the astrological signs are different and are trying to switch me from my highly decisive Libra, to an indecisive Virgo.

What am I sure of?

I’m ready to reconvert my body into an owner-occupied dwelling.  OK, “mini” watermelon?  This is your official eviction notice.  I love you.  Get out here.  I mean it.

Somehow leek week passed me by in a blur.  I have to say that leek was a much better mental labor image than…

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.