wild*life

Speaking of navels… in Spanish they have the best saying, “El piensa que es el ombligo del mundo.”  He thinks he’s the bellybutton of the world.  So much better than our “center of the universe.”

Poor little Jakey is definitely the bellybutton of our world at this point… I’d forgotten that at 30 weeks you essentially stop counting up, and start counting down.  Just a few more weeks before our little bellybutton’s big wake-up call.

I’ve recently been reminded of how traumatic the loss of my bellybutton was the first time around.  At that time it seemed like the worst thing about pregnancy.  Then I got it back.  Not really in quite the same shape as I had loaned it out in, but not terribly different.

And now it’s gone, again.  No belly button divot.  Though this time Cillo has done a pretty good job of not making it pop out, requiring me to spend outrageous amounts of money on the most amazing invention ever: popper stoppers (http://missoops.com/miss-oops/popper-stopper).  I am not a fan of any kind of comments along the lines of pop-up turkey timers, Turkey.

I’ll take navel oranges given that in less than two weeks, Cillo hits the melons.  Trying.  Not.  To.  Panic.

I recently had a great bus conversation with a respected director at work.  She shared with me her philosophy on the time her husband spends with her son when she is traveling for work.  Essentially, she stated that she can’t be upset about anything they do when she’s gone, even if she comes home and finds them “watching porn and eating lollipops.”  Her son is six.

Her point: Being a single parent and taking care of the entire daily routine, alone, is exhausting and challenging… So, I’ve tried to adjust my perspective on Daddy’s evening entertainment: an episode or two of Handy Manny cartoons, sticky strawberry Nutrigrain bars and tennis shoes… on my tan couch.  A far cry from porn and lollipops.

Jakey learns all sorts of interesting things when spending quality time with his Daddy.  For example, one day I came home and they showed me a new game Daddy had invented: Kiss the Fly.  There was a slow fly, nearing its eventual demise, buzzing back and forth along our big living room picture window.  It was still too fast for Jake, but it did bring me pause as Jacob chased it with an open mouth, back and forth, back and forth.  Apparently this was endlessly fun for Jake, and equally funny to his dad.

Jacob has also been practicing the splits.  Both side and center.

During bath time, JJ now knows how to use the rubber ducky to make fart noises against his own chest.

And finally, this quality time leads to all sorts of new, useful vocabulary such as “armpit” and “uncle.”  Apparently there are lots of reasons to say armpit on a daily basis.  “Uncle” is another dad vocab word that a one-year-old should know in the likely event of an impromptu wrestling match.

Fortunately, my son hasn’t uttered anything that sounds like “porn” or “lollipops.”  I’ll keep you posted.

A few weeks ago, James remembered that we had some unused bath toys in the closet– a whole bag of colorful foam letters and numbers that stick to the tub when they’re wet.  Thank you again Rene!  We feel you smiling down on us at bath time.

Jakey loves his “numbers.”  The concept that there are both letters and numbers is currently irrelevant.  We’ve been counting to 10 for several weeks.  He almost always skips 1 and tends to prefer the even digits.  Jake’s favorite number is 2.  It is the answer to everything.

“Jakey, how many birdies are there?”
“Twooo.”

“Jacob, what color is it?”
“Twooo.”

“JJ, how old will you be?”
“Twooo.”  (I like to throw that one in… he always gets it right.)

The other night it was bath time and he was surrounded by his 36 numbers (26 letters plus 0 through 9).

“Hammer.  Hammer.”

Hmmmm.  I’m not sure, but I don’t think the toy company is selling “Alphabet letters AND your favorite household tools!  In a convenient bath time package.”

He then picks up the “T” and starts hammering me with it.  Why didn’t I think of that?

Part way through bath time tonight he says to me, “Cut it.  Cut it.”  And then starts using the “X” like a pair of scissors.  It’s a bit like gazing at clouds…

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.