Face Forward

I guess it's been a week or so since we've been officially face forward in the carseat in both of our cars, but this is a shot I took with my phone on the day we flipped him around in my car. He seems very pleased, doesn't he?

It is kind of a fresh perspective, I think, and makes it a little easier to see and interact with him from the front, which we better get used to because they say that even when kids are out of their carseats and boosters, they are supposed to ride in the backseat until age 13. (Whatever?!)

I wish the iPhone took better photos so I could zoom in to show you Mr. Toothy Grin. He's really getting some whoppers. And it's really no matter how far apart they may be coming in, the doc says we should start brushing. I did buy the brush, but he really isn't too interested yet. I suppose I should really work on it, though. OK, I'll start Monday (hopefully with more enthusiasm and staying power than my typical Monday-morning diet kick-off).

I'll try to get a better shot of his choppers this weekend when we're in Fort Wayne visiting Grandma. I sure hope he enjoys his 3.5 hours of face-forward fun on the road there and back. I know I won't will.

Word of the Day: Mama

When Oliver had his one-year appointment with the doctor, she asked how many words he was saying besides Mommy and Daddy. I was a bit stunned by the question, actually. It seemed a loaded to me -- I mean, was he even saying Mommy and Daddy?

Eric assured me that he had heard Mama and Dada, so that counts. What he didn't elaborate on is that Dadadada is simply the sound Oliver makes when he's enjoying himself while walking (he gets very proud of himself) and Mamamama seems to mean any number of the following:

• Mama: More (generically)
• Mama: More (of something I just had, often shortened to the familiar "Ma")
• Mama: More (of something I have yet to receive and you must guess)
• Mama: Milk (generally with an uprising questioning tone to the end)
• Mama: Gimme (of something he sees and wants and is pointing to)

You can see where this is going.

As far as I can tell, Mama never means ME!

I'm cool with that, though. Really, I am. My mommy friends say that once they know that's your name, they never tire of using it at all hours undesirable and in all tones unappreciative. So I can wait.

I can't wait, however, til he really starts talking. Not so much for the developmental status nor for the convenience of enhanced communication, but simply because I'm sure it'll be cute and entertaining. And cute and entertaining helps to balance out kicking and screaming (see Guantanamo Bay in Chicago). The kid has become an absolute monkey on the changing table -- an angry monkey (kind of like that one in Chris's closet on the Family Guy).

Actually, now that I've started listening closer, I do think he's got a couple words in his repertoire, but really barely two, and I'll save those for another post. Given the way he babbles, though, I know he's definitely got something to say. Just hope it comes out soon. I'll need the blog fodder for sure.

First Haircut

On Saturday, Oliver had his first haircut. And I have to wonder why we didn't do it a long time ago, as his bangs have been poking his eyeballs for months now.

We were in the car on the way to Garfield Conservatory and thought we'd give the haircut a shot since Oliver had been having a good morning with a great nap and was in a good mood.

At first, we thought we'd head down to Snippet's on Clybourn ("a specialized children's hair salon") to get the full treatment and certificate, but then decided it was just too much trouble because there might be a wait and traffic down that way is no fun. Plus, who needs to go to a place that offers a "Missy Manicure" service. So I called my friend Emily -- of Emily and "Theo of the Good-Looking Hair" -- to see where they go on the northside.

Turns out they go to "Julie" of salon-name-unknown and web-site-non-existent, which is no problem in my book because it just means no wait and no over-inflated prices. And like I said, Theo's hair always looks good (except that one time when his daddy cut his bangs and the other time when he went to bed with his hair wet).

So we headed over to Julie's place, which we learned is also known as JRH Kids Cuts.

Immediately we were put at ease by the presence of the car haircut chairs, a must-have for any first haircut. Phew. And Julie was very nice asking us if we wanted him to sit on our laps or in the car chair and if he would tolerate the apron around his neck. Turns out he was fine in the car and with the apron and with the snip-snip-snipping, thank goodness. Although, Julie was quick to remind us that every time is different and he might have a full-fledged fit next time, but so far so good. Although there were no tears, at one point Mr. Pouty Lip did come out.

The whole ordeal took all of 3 minutes and 6 snips to be honest. Not really worth all the pomp and circumstance -- although I did manage to take a fair share of photos, including him enjoying some playtime afterward in Julie's play area.

My own hairdresser tried to give me a tutorial the other day on how to cut Oliver's hair while he's sleeping, but I wasn't ready for that. Maybe at some point in the future now that I've seen how basic and less-than-precise the "professional" cut is, but I kinda doubt it.

Julie didn't send us home with an official certificate, but she did throw his hair into a small manilla envelope and gave Eric a ballpoint pen to label and date it.

I subsequently brought it home and put it into the awesome silver personalized keepsake holder that our friends Jeff and Richelle got us -- one for his first curl and one for his first tooth. I tried to take some pictures of it with the lid on so you could see how cool it is, but it's so shiny and kept just getting a reflection of me and my camera. So here's a quick shot of it and its contents:

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Everything Is A Pushtoy

Oliver is all over these days... And Eric and I got firsthand exposure to exactly how vast "all over" is, as we were home with the little monkey for a full week because he was sick.

In addition to crawling into every corner and crack, he found great entertainment in converting our furniture into pushtoys. Magazine rack - pushtoy. Kitchen chair - pushtoy. Step stool - pushtoy. Bar stool - pushtoy. New Dyson - pushtoy. Highchair - pushtoy. Toy chest - pushtoy. Wine rack (pictured below) - pushtoy.

And then there's the conversion of the kitchen cabinetry into climbing wall. But that's another story.




-- Post From My iPhone

Happy Birthday, Oliver!

Yesterday (plus a couple weeks because I'm a slacker blogger; actual DOB = 1/8/08) was Oliver's birthday. Hard to believe, but true. It started with a disaster of a morning and ended in a mess of cake and cream. Good times!

It was only his fourth day of daycare, which had been going OK but not great. He's pretty used to easy and quiet, so daycare is a bit chaotic and overwhelming for him. And it doesn't help when Mommy forgets to pack his woobie (small security blanket) and bink (pacifier). Ooops! I did, however, remember the little Dr. Seuss books I brought for all of the other kids in his class. Since they frown on sweets, it seemed like a good compromise. Cute books, really. I hope they like 'em.

So instead of running home to get woobie and bink, I thought I'd hit Target to buy back-ups of each, as well as a few guilt-gifts for putting him through such trauma this week and especially on his birthday.


But even before I left for the trip to Target, there were some tears at the daycare. He really didn't want to be there. His awesome teachers tried to distract him with an activity though. When I left, he was expressing his emotions via art -- Oliver with the Blues, it seems. Yes, those are tears on his cheeks.

Turns out Target didn't have his bink brand, so I bought a sampler of three other brands. Then they didn't have his woobie either -- a white teddy with lion embroidered on it. So instead he got the pink one -- a pink teddy with a ladybug embroidered on it. Sorry, Oliver.

We went through the same separation angst after I brought back the Target goods, along with a back-up woosher (musical crib toy) -- a splurge for sure at $32, but it was his birthday and I was feeling guilty. (Even more guilty knowing that all my Target trinkets didn't soothe him at all.)

BUT, when I returned in the afternoon to get him -- he was happy again. Teachers said he had a pretty rough day all day, but at least he was happy when I got there. He was wearing the awesome birthday crown that Miss Luce had made for him and was busy trying to walk.

Yes, WALK! He's doing a great job, actually. Although, it's hard to say what qualifies as first-steps. They always make it seem like a black and white issue, but when you get right down to it, there are definitely different grades of first steps. I mean, he took some first steps when we held his hands and jostled him along; he took some first steps when he started moving with his push toy; he took some first steps when he held just our fingertips. It's mostly clear that those don't count, but what about now... when he steps from standing to mommy or daddy, but kind of ends the sequence of two-to-three steps with a nosedive into our arms and the origin or the stand prior was because we stood him at arms distance from us. If that counts, then he's taken his first steps. If we have to wait for him to move successfully between inanimate objects without falling, then we have a ways to go.

Anyway... that night I picked up a couple slices of cake at Lutz (yum!), some candles, and a simple balloon. I fed him his standard, yet favorite, grilled cheese and peas and we waited for Daddy to get home for the messy celebration before bathtime.

Here he is enjoying his cake and signing a big finish: VIDEO.

That following Sunday we had a pizza party for him. I'll try to get that into a slideshow soon. Still have that cruise to document, too. Blogging is hard work. And, according to Eric, who was amiss when I told him I can't find the photos from our trip to AZ last April: "You're slacking as the family archivist." He has a point, but my 2009 resolution is to do the best I can at everything and to be satisfied with that instead of beating myself up about it. Huge challenge, but I'm working on it...

Your Baby's First Year of Life - Week 52

The second you find out you're pregnant you sign up for these weekly updates from online magazines and mommy sites so you can monitor all those tiny developments like getting eyelashes and having identifiable private parts, all the while devouring your What to Expect book that lives on your nightstand.

Then, eventually, you have the baby and you move on to the second volume of What to Expect, which keeps your attention for maybe the first 6 weeks when you discard the seemingly common-sense advice. But, the emails, they keep coming. Who has time to unsubscribe with a 6-week-old to take care of? Mostly you skim them now, not following the links from the teasers to the more in-depth content. Then one day you get the one called "Your Baby's First Year of Life - Week 52." Week 52? What? How can that be?

It's true, though, this week is Oliver's 52nd week. The little diablo will be uno en January 8. (Sorry for the Spanglish, I read The Brief Wondrous Life of Oscar Wao on vacation where the two languages were commonly interchanged.)

We aren't going to do too much for his big day. Just a family dinner on the Thursday, then a pizza with family and a few friends on Sunday. Oliver is hoping to take his Stroller Strides girlfriends out to lunch next week, too, but all-in-all it should be a quiet one. (Well, I guess three events isn't exactly "quiet" but in the whole Elmo-and-Dora scheme of things, pizza is quiet.)

And quiet is good.

We just got back from a very active vacation -- a 10-night Eastern Carribean Cruise! It was great to spend a lot of individual and extended family time (but more on all of our adventures at sea later when I get the hundreds of Oliver photos downloaded from our camera).

Also on the docket for blog later (blater?) is some sort of Year in Review effort. I've been thinking that I should try to do a little catch-up on the blog since I didn't start until September and he had 8-9 months of life prior that went entirely without commentary. The audacity!

So, visit often, comment more, and have a happy new year!

I Saw The Sign...

... and it opened up my eyes... to the undeniable confirmation of the fact that Oliver is paying attention, soaking it up, learning all the time.

Since he was about six months, we've been using baby sign language with him despite zero response or seeming interest. I have felt pretty silly simulating milking a cow, drawing my hands outward from my nose like whiskers of a cat, and tapping my fingertips together while I said the corresponding "milk," "kitty," "more". But low and behold, he got it.

Last week it was questionable if he was really using the signs as intended or if it was a coincidence. The sign for milk kinda looks like the same as the "I'm fascinated with my hand and the way it can move" gesture he had done all along while staring at his moving fingers. And the sign for finished kinda looks like "I'm throwing my hands in the air because I can and it's fun."

But this week, he's really been using the signs in context. I'd say "Milk" is the big winner with "Finished" as a close second. "More" is usually the spoken "eeehhhhhheeee, eh, eh, eh" whine/grunt instead of the more-civilized fingertip tapping. And I haven't seen those kitty whiskers surface (but I had kinda dropped that one anyway to focus on the more action-oriented ones). It really is pretty amazing, though, to see him milk the cow around bottletime and to synchronize the all-finished sign with his spitting out of whatever bite he has in his mouth.

I'm not a fanatic by any means. I mean, I don't see the importance of tracing an elephant's trunk in the air to identify the African mammal. And can't see enough distinction between the signs for cold and afraid to really bother, but now that I've seen the power of this little sponge and the help that the signs can provide, I'm sorry that we didn't tackle more sooner.

I'm going to try to introduce "diaper" and "eat" soon so he can get those into his vocabulary, too. And since we eat a lot of bananas around here, that one seems apropo. The signs for mom and dad and grandma and grandpa would be sweet, but again they are all so similar (and a little weird -- tapping thumb to forehead is dad). I'm sure there are others that would be useful (especially now that I've taken some time to poke around on the web for more examples), but I have full faith that the boy will be speaking complete sentences by the spring (right?), so we'll just wait it out.

I don't have any good pictures of him signing, but again, poking around on the Internet, I found one of a boy signing "book," which (again, low and behold) is exactly what Oliver was doing last night when it was time for a book after his bottle. I kept going, "Book? Do you want to read a book?" Each time doing the sign for book that I know, which is putting the palms of your hands together, then opening them up with the pinky sides still touching. Oliver just kept doing this cute kinda gesture that we thought was indecisiveness, like "I don't know if I want to read a book." But, duh, this wrist rotation with the hands held together is probably a little advanced for the boy, so what you see is the babies turning their hands inside out and up, but away from each other. Wow. The kid is brilliant -- or maybe he was just signing "where?" Hmmm.

Milestone: Bipedalism

Well, almost anyway. I'm guessing he'll be walking on his own in the next couple weeks -- even before his first birthday. What a superstar!

Eric has this theory that every time we travel or put Oliver in totally new situations, he changes dramatically -- "a new baby" as Eric puts it, so likely by the time we come back from our cruise in January he will probably also be skipping and doing the do-se-do. Actually, I do give the theory some credence, so I'm sure I'll have lots to post when we get back.

I've been a bit remiss with the posting, especially with the milestones:

I mean, the kid is practically off jarred food. He's a good eater and even likes his vegetables. Like most of us, though, he leans towards the carbs: crackers (of the graham or club variety), mac 'n' cheese, cheerios, cheezy-poofs, egg noodles, etc.

He is in size 18 months jammies. Despite his genetic origins, the kid is kinda tall and all of the feet in his 12-monthers have holes in the big toe area. OK, I'll admit, this might be partially due to the claw-like nature of his untrimmed toenails. You try taking the clippers to a bucking kangaroo.

And, get this: The kid appears to be fluent in Vietnamese: "Nngng Gngung". Since I am not, in fact, fluent in Vietnamese (and neither are you for that matter) this claim cannot be confirmed or denied.

I'm sure there are loads of other things I'm forgetting to chronicle here, but I'm doing the best I can, dammit.

Oh, in other news, Oliver is starting daycare in January when we get back from the cruise.

The Boy Loves A Cat... The Boy Is A Cat?

Oliver seriously loves our cats -- one more than the other, but we won't name names. His typical reaction to spotting a cat is a huge smile and an "eeeeee" squeal. He loves to plow his head into their tummies, but first he has to catch them (see strip one below).

The other day, though, I was a little concerned because not only does he love cats, he seems to be behaving much like a cat, as well. He's totally into batting a ball or a block out away from him, chasing it down and batting it again (see strip two). This behavior is quite amusing.

He's On The Move...and More

No, I'm not pregnant again (thank goodness). The photo is to help illustrate my constant disbelief that this little tiny piece-of-rice-sized thang that grew in me for 9 months is now doing so much more than I ever expected. He's turning more and more into a boy everyday. It's really quite amazing. Downside is that all this new development means that he's too excited about stuff to sleep as much as he should, but I'm hoping that too shall pass.

It really is so cool that he is:

• crawling! (especially chasing the kitties all over the house)
• eating cherios (1 of every 5 even fed to himself by himself)
• babbling (more dada than mama, an occassional uh-oh, and eeeeeee for kitty)
• looking more and more like his daddy everyday
• playing with the TV remote control and staring expectantly at the screen
• standing up holding on to the couch, crib rail, or cool singing block that our friends Sharon and Milos got him.
• looking at the appropriate person or thing when prompted with "Where's X?"
• waiving bye-bye (not consistently, but enough to bring a crowd in a restaurant lobby into a unified "awwwww...")
• identifying "nose" on his own and others' faces
• patting pictures of kitties in animal books before or exclusive of others
• sticking his tongue out constantly, making his mommy think he might actually get teeth someday
• focusing in and pointing at the most miniscule piece of dust, dirt, or litter (almost always accompanied by an extended groan)
• eating yogurt and cream cheese
• weighing almost 21 pounds
• getting a real kick out of watching other kids play
• enjoying library time with Nani (Pushpa) - Man, I just noticed that the Picassa red-eye corrector did a number on Eric and Pushpa's eyes. They generally do not look that creepy.
• laughing uncontrollably when tickled at the tops of his thighs
• getting whispy little duck curls on the back of his head

And those are just the good things. I'll leave the bad for another post, I suppose.