No It All

Lately Jacob has pulled out some new niceties from his bag of tricks.  He frequently uses please and thank you… perhaps with some prompting.  He’s famous at school for his signature sentence, “How do you do?”  (Based on his favorite book, this is what you say when you meet a farmer.)  And you can count on him for a hearty “bless you” when witnessing a sneeze.

Over Christmas, Santa brought Jakey a new baby doll and stroller.  He’s been commandeering his own, as well as the strollers of unsuspecting little girls, since meeting Baby Cora in October.  Santa must have scoured the workshop for a green and blue gender neutral umbrella stroller.

During our holiday in Yosemite I overheard Jake as he pushed the stroller around the living room.  He came across a sippy cup obstacle… “‘Scuse me agua.”

I discreetly concealed my smile.

I only have myself to blame.

It all started many months ago.  Every morning Mommy needs her “hot tea.”  Really, how can I get up at 4 to 5am for years on end without a little bit of caffeine?  Jakey really wanted to try it so I invented “dip dip.”  I would take his nigh nigh and pretend to dip it in my tea cup for him.  It was a runaway hit.

Pretty soon, almost all foods needed dip dip.  Fortunately, you can turn lots of things into dip.  Yogurt, milk, peanut butter, salsa, syrup, BBQ sauce, jam.  But I can’t have a kid that only eats food that’s been dipped in ketchup and ranch.  Even if it is organic ketchup or sustainable ranch.  Vegetables must maintain their delicious reputations… alone.  I began to worry we were on the brink of dip dip spinning out of control.  Fortunately, he’s back to eating carrots.  Plain.

Dinner tonight?  Apple slices and pan (bread) dip dip in Manhattan clam chowder.

I only have myself to blame.

Two weeks ago it was Chinese cabbage week.  I still don’t know what a Chinese cabbage is, but I guess, via deductive reasoning, I know it’s smaller than a plain old regular cabbage…  Apparently Cillo is already about 15.7 inches long and weighs almost 3 pounds.

James’ most salient wish with baby number 2 is of course first and foremost: healthy.  The second most uttered desirable trait seems to be: calm.

I don’t believe we’ve ever used calm to describe little Mr. Busybody.  Even in the womb, Jakey was kicking, squirming, stretching and wrestling… incessantly.  I remember I couldn’t sleep because my insides were constantly twisting and turning.  One night I woke him up by drinking a glass of water– I couldn’t believe I had let thirst rob me of a few more moments of tranquil slumber.  Toward the end, I told a trusted few I thought it was a boy.  An active little bundle of energetic baby boy.  Boy was I right.

My current little Cabbage Patch Kid is so calm and gentle that I did a “kick count” at 4:00am the other night, just to make sure they’re still in there.  I’m going to go out on a limb and predict, in writing, that Cillo is a girl.  Now of course, I have no idea, so don’t be sending us any pink presents.  And Cillo, if you are a boy, I’m sorry for declaring that I think you’re a girl.  Maybe you’re just a cool, calm and carefree little gentleman.

And if you are a girl, all I can say is… I knew it.

There’s something about Jake’s presence that inspires my loving life partner to indirectly point out my… um… shortcomings.

“Jakey, Mama is bad at putting on lids.”  Hmmm.  I hadn’t even noticed this area for development.  It does take me at least two tries to get the lid screwed on to those sippy cups.

“Jacob, Mama never replaces the toilet paper.”  Well, sure– point out the obvious.  I’m pretty sure in high school, my own mom used to charge me $1 for each incident.  But my most current Restoration Hardware toilet paper holder has done wonders to boost this deficiency.

“Jakey, why can’t Mama swallow pills?”  Yes.  I gag and practically regurgitate my prenatal vitamin every night.  I cannot tolerate an audience.  I will never be one of those old ladies that pops a handfull of pills in my mouth and then swallows them dry.  Never.

A few weeks ago we got a new carpet for the livingroom that doesn’t fight with our new curtains (replacing the dusty polyester granny drapes that came with our house).  The edge of the carpet took a day or two to finally flatten out after being rolled up.  Jake must have tripped on the edge of the carpet 8 or more times that first night.  Face plant every time.  Our friend Jay thought it was hilarious.  Now let’s keep in mind that Jakey has been walking for a total of 8 months… not long in the scheme of things.

“Jacob, your mom is so uncoordinated.  That must be where you get it.”

What?!  Uncoordinated?  Now this I must contest.

I am not known for being uncoordinated.  I have been selected by many a coach for my coordination– on the basketball court, softball field, volleyball court, soccer pitch and track.  Being vertically challenged made me pretty fast and contributed to my coordination.  Sure I’ve been known to trip on occasion, particularly in the presence of uneven sidewalks and flip-flops, but it’s not like I walk around with frequent scabs on my forehead like my mother and maternal grandfather.

The following day I had a meeting across campus and used my badge to open the glass door in the building lobby.  I pulled the door toward me and it slammed me in the eye.  I made it to the restroom, as discreetly as a pregnant cyclops can stumble.  Two days later, my brow bone still hurts.  Luckily I can feel the bump, but you can’t really see it.

Shhhh… don’t tell James.

The Perfect Toilet Paper Holder

This weekend James and I celebrated our second babymoon.  It was heaven.  Similar to our first babymoon, we spent two nights at The Cottages of Napa, and even lucked out by getting the green cottage with the porch which I always wanted.  We scarfed down dinners at Ad Hoc, Mustard’s Grill (still my favorite) and Buchon pastries delivered to our doorstep in the morning.  We went wine tasting (key word for me being “went,” not “tasting”) at Spring Mountain and Pride Mountain vineyards which are in Napa Valley BFE.

And then to top it all off, we spent our coveted gift certificate on massages in Palo Alto.  Despite all the sleeping-in until 7:30, gourmet food and uninterrupted laptop time, we sure missed Jakey!

Cillo, the butternut squash and I regret this being our first prenatal massage.  We left as squashed nut butter.

I’ve been thinking a bit more about dog babies and have decided to post a correction.  There is, in fact, one animal that I would recommend as the perfect practice pet in preparation for kids:

A monkey.  No cage.

Chinese cabbage gives me heartburn.

Every morning, when it’s still dark outside, Jakey and Mommy read “books” in bed.  These books are technically store catalogs, and a brochure James got from some lady construction company that has a picture of a “tee-tat” (kitty cat).  We can’t recycle this full color brochure because Jakey loves to look at Juan the Tee-Tat.

When we’re reading these books, particularly the Crate & Barrel Land of Nod kids’ catalog, Jake likes to pinch the pictures with his little crab claw and say “open, open.”  Apparently this means he wants to touch the “fire enen” (fire engine) or drive the toy car or play with the art supplies.  Yesterday we were listening to Christmas carols on the TV and it showed a picture of icing covered tree cookies.  The little pincher came out, “open, open!”  The concept of dimensions is not yet a limiting factor in Jacob’s life.

This topic of dimensions reminds me of a conversation I recently had with one of my pregnant girlfriends.  She kept telling me how her doctor does 4D ultrasounds.  I was a bit skeptical… isn’t the fourth dimension the space-time continuum or something?  What does it show you… your 3D baby, in the future?  Talking back to you as a teenager, from the womb?  I found this conversation terribly amusing.  My friend… not so much.  (According to the internet, 4D ultrasounds show 3D babies with real-time movements representing the fourth dimension.  I’m not a scientist… but this seems to be using quite of bit of artistic license when it comes to physics…)

Today Jacob called his grandma on the phone for a “chat.”  He held the phone up to his ducky book, “Ducky!” as well as the Christmas tree, so she could see them.

Maybe Jakey has discovered this elusive fourth dimension?

About three weeks ago I was at the mall.  I did a double-take when a lady passed me with a full-size stroller, pushing her dog.  Dog strollers?!  When I say it, it sounds vaguely familiar… yet no less disturbing.

I’ve had approximately eight doggies over the course of my life, both big outdoor hounds and little indoor fuzzballs.  I find it really funny when people tell me they’re getting a dog to “practice”… for kids.

I totally understand why people have pets and consider them their children.  My favorite quote from the book Eat, Pray, Love: “Having a baby is like getting a tattoo on your face.”  And giving up frequent movies, fancy gourmet restaurants, trips abroad and carefree weekend getaways… at least for a few years.

But I just can’t get behind this idea of practicing for kids by getting a dog.  Or as Jake now says, “goggie.”  He used to say “doggie.”  A few thoughts for consideration:

* There comes a point when it becomes socially unacceptable to keep your child off the furniture.  I remember a sticky, drooley Jakey starting to climb-up on my camel-colored couch.  I had to resist the urge to sweep him back onto the floor like a poodle.
* It’s OK to put your puppy in a warm garage.  Especially when it is yipping and whining all night long.
* You can leave your dog at home all day.  Alone.
* So far I’ve never met a dog that has “bath time” every night.
* Most dogs eat the same thing… three times a day.  Usually it requires pouring dry food into a bowl.
* The majority of puppies don’t change clothes multiple times a day… creating mountains of laundry.
* Dogs can’t reliably open cupboards, drawers, and closets to access pills, poisons, knives and noose-like objects.

Don’t get me wrong.  If you want a goggie you should definitely get one and enjoy it!  Just don’t be surprised when, if you decide to have a baby, it’s nothing like having a dog.

Tonight we played Christmas carols and decorated the house.  James got out the infamous Christmas Story leg lamp for our front window.  The piece de resistance of our holiday decor.

He got it all set-up and “switch, switch”… first the bulb glowed and then the fishnet-stockinged, stiletto-sporting leg flickered and blazed.

“Whoaaa!” Jakey exclaimed.