Tuesday, August 25, 2009



September 17th, 2009


Last night Daddy picked you up from daycare because my dentist appointment ran late…. And when I got home he enthusiastically told me that you had picked up a couple of new signs. He was so proud. (I have to preface this by saying that I got home just as he was finishing putting you in the most adorable outfit I have ever seen you in…. your striped long jester’s hat, with Alyssa’s hand sewn dress, white tights with little flowers going up the side, and navy blue mary-janes. You looked… sparkly. We were getting ready for Maria’s bday party.) Anyway, while you guys had been playing, he got you to make the sign for milk, and for bird. I should let him tell this story....

It was so amazing, though. Here, I will tell you my experience: I looked at you, freshly gathered up into my arms and said “really? Sava- how do you say milk?” and I did the sign for it, and you looked at me excitedly and started squeezing your hand together. I yelped in delight and buried my face in your neck and you were so happy and excited. I could see the light of recognition in your eyes, and the joy and pride at making the connection. “Birdie” was cute… you do the little gesture pointing back at your mouth, instead of outward. But Jamba said at first, you were just doing the gesture out away from your body, and he said “no, Sava, like this, close to your mouth” and showed you, and you picked it up! He was really proud at how fast you were learning.

Man, I can’t believe it is almost your birthday. I can’t believe what a cool little person you are.


September 12th, 2009

Okay, so what’s new……

Jamba is back. Thank god. Life is really- it is so much better with him around. You were so sweet at the airport when we were picking him up. You recognized him immediately, and reached for him and he took you in his arms and you lay your head down on his chest, which is your version of a hug and which is saved for only your most special people...

Anyway, he just couldn’t believe you much you had grown and how unbelievably cute you are, and the two of you have been shellacked together ever since. He got you a few toys in Amsterdam- one is the little stuffed blue rat from Ratatoulle, and I think somehow in your head you have identified that rat with him, because you carry it everywhere with you- especially to daycare. It is so cute- whenever I come to pick you up from daycare, you are sitting on the floor clutching the rat to your neck. He stayed home from work that Monday so that we could be together, and on Tuesday, when he left for work in the morning, you sobbed and sobbed, holding your arms out for him as he was walking out the door. Totally tragic, but I swear you made his year.

Oh yeah- daycare. Daycare started Monday, September 1st . I finally found the right person to watch you- Fernanda, and you are now being dropped off every morning at 9am, for two hours. I pick you up and put you right to bed for your morning nap, and finally- after an entire year of feeling completely out of control in the time-space continuum, have some dependable structured hours to myself. What I have been able to do, after two weeks of morning alone time, is remarkable. I won’t go into it, because it is totally boring (it involves spreadsheets, and operating budgets and account reconciliations- believe me- not interesting) but mama is happy.

You still really hate to go down to sleep. I honestly can’t figure it out. It makes me tired.

You are standing for whole minutes at a time now- especially if you are not thinking about it, but engaged at looking at a toy in your hands. On labor day, you took a couple stumbling steps into Ros’s arms. We all laughed and clapped and drummed our feet on the ground so loud it scared you and you crawled crying into my arms. It was kind of sweet– I rarely ever see you scared of anything.

Ummmmm… oh yeah. There is this adorable new thing that you do, which is that at bedtime when we are reading, you start making the sound of a chimp while we are reading. The reason is this: We have a TimeLife book on Evolution, and one night a few months ago, I was reading it to you, and we invented a game in which every time the book was closed and we were looking at the front cover (multiple photographs of a chimp’s face, caught by time-lapse photography in the middle of a chimp yell) I would start hooting and then end in a chimp screech. You thought it was hilarious, and kept trying to shut the book in the middle of me reading, so that I would make the funny noise again.

Well, the other night, about four nights ago, your dad and I were lying on the bed, and we had just finished looking at the chimp book and now we were reading Where the Wild Things Are, and you started quietly hooting to yourself while we were turning the pages. You stopped whenever we stopped reading. Aw man, we were dying laughing, hopelessly smitten.

You have stopped climbing up stairs for the moment, and devote most of your energy to the Tupperware drawer (also known as Sava’s drawer) where you fling the mason jar lids out onto the kitchen floor so they go skiddering across the linoleum. Then you sit down and apply yourself studiously to figuring out which lids fit on which jars. Over and over again, you take a lid, and place it carefully on top of the jar. Then you slide it around a bit, checking the fit, and then lift it off. Analyze all sides of the lid, the jar, and then do it again.

In the bath, your new favorite thing is to take the big Tupperware container and put the little rubber duckies inside it, like it is a big cruise ship. Mommy likes to turn it over and pretend they are in ducky prison, far below the surface of the water (don’t worry- I leave them a pocket of air to breathe in). You like to liberate them from their undersea captivity. Then you take little cups and you pour water from one cup into another. We got a little basketball hoop that suctions to the side of the hoop- you are somewhat interested in putting balls and stuff into it. You really like the foam alphabet letters, and are really proud when you can stick one of them against the wall. You would play in the bath for hours if we let you. Sometimes you take two baths a day. Sometimes none (and Daddy doesn’t like that, because we are told you need consistent rituals every day, and also, he really loves giving you baths). Sometimes when you are grumpy, I will put you in the empty bath with some toys, and you have fun playing in there. It is a good spot.

You have started to trill your “r”s back in your throat. Ros says it is the Hebrew R. It is actually exactly the sound that Chewbacca makes. You are the only person in the house who can make this sound. Even your dad, who can mimic almost anything, can’t do it as well as you.

You do this "Intake squeal" when you are excited about something. This kind of gasp for air at the back of your throat.


August 25, 2009



Standing & Sitting

You just stood by yourself for (1 alligator, 2 alligator, 3 alligator, 4 alligator…)
5 seconds!!! Pulling yourself up on the side of your toybox, pulling a toy out, and concentrating on it, not even thinking about what you were doing.
Later that day: another five seconds standing! It seems to happen when you are not thinking about standing, but absorbed in a toy that you are holding. But I have a feeling that you are going to be experimenting a lot with this new skill now: and it feels like walking is imminent.

p.s You are learning “sit down” as in: “Sava, stop standing up in your high chair. Sit down”.

Haikus for Sava

Baby is so tan
Like grandpa, roman-skinned: hides
Norway in fat crease

Eyes dark grey, like storm
River stone under water
Blue circling moss

Plucked tomato from
Vine: baby clamors leaning
In, to bite sun warmth

Her favorite food, in
Order: milkbreast, tomato,
Cucumber, rice cake

Pounding Scrabble piece
On cast-iron door-stop foot
Flat hand, letter A


August 22, 2009

The County Fair: Ligers & Bulimia


You are 11 months old, and one day. It is Saturday. We spent three hours in bed while the afternoon rain poured down, and then it cleared and we went to the fair. We are driving back home from the Rockingham County Fair and you have a yellow balloon that you are enjoying watching flutter in the wind. At the fair we saw carousel rides and swinging machines and brightly lighted pandemonium, swirling lights and squeaking machinery. We got to pet a llama, and a goat, and some sheep at the 4H petting zoo. You were very excited. You were squeaking. The little animals looked weary and were trying to stay at the back of their pens, away from the curious hands. It was the last day of the fair. We met a large number of cows in the cow judging barn, and got to pet a few of them while talking to a nice man who was a dairy farmer. They were beautiful and well kept and calm. One little calf had a beautiful white fur coat with black spots, and had been born in March. She was much younger than you but oh, so much bigger.

We saw three Bengal Tigers and one Liger, at a little circus sideshow behind the big grandstand. You clung to the red bars separating the audience sitting in the grass from the stage area, and squealed in delight at the big kitties who leapt off their pedestals and through hoops. I am not sure you understood how much bigger those kitties were from the one that you live with at home- I am not sure you understand distance and scale yet….. but still- pretty cool, right? I hadn’t even seen a liger before, and here you are only 11 months and 1 day, with one more experience under your belt.

A Liger is a cross between a tiger and a lion. It is something that only occurs in captivity. The circus show was wonderful and a little sad all at the same time, as circus shows generally are. They always make me imagine the lives of the performers when they are done prancing around and are trudging backstage; taking off their makeup and thinking, I am really too old for this, and talking about how the show went- how many bags of peanuts were sold to help pay for the tiger’s t-bone steaks, and so on. What a strange life, eh?: to be carting a bunch of tigers around the country in the back of a shiny red semi.

After the county fair we swing back home and pick Nico up, our very own wild animal, and take her to the park, where she tears through the forest undergrowth chasing bunnies and squirrels (totally illegal of course) while we stroll underneath the green canopy, listening to the cicadas thrumming wildly in the branches, enjoying the post-rain coolness, and looking at flowers that look like little orchids. You are wild about trees, and point and grunt at them so that I will walk over and you pat the tree bark, and then stick your face up close for an experimental lick. I have tried to make it a practice of giving trees a big group hug while holding you, and kissing the trunks, and telling them “thank you”, because I have wanted you to start your tree-hero worship as soon as possible. You seem to be on board.

You are in the backseat and we are driving home again, this time Nico panting happily beside me, and you are experimenting with gagging. You are putting your whole hand in your mouth as far as it can go, to see what happens, and what is happening is that you keep gagging and choking, and pulling your hand out and smiling, and then doing it all over again. I looked back and saw what you were doing, and couldn’t help laughing, which only egged you on more I am afraid. The next time I looked back, you were sticking your hand in, and retching, and a large quantity of rice cake and milk and grilled corn came spilling out of your mouth all over your shirt. “Oh Sava- gross!” but I was laughing, and you were grinning and then you started smearing your hand around in your shirt and then taking it and rubbing it all over your face and hair. Luckily we were blocks from home and I was able to dump you right into the bath.

Disgusting, wonderful girl. I really don’t know where you get it from. I was telling Andrea about it tonight and she laughed and laughed, and then said it seemed perfectly appropriate for your sign. You being a Virgo, she meant. She said the Virgos she knows are all just these down-to-earth, practical people, and somehow the exploration of your physiology with such matter-of-fact, scientific probing, and such a lack of emotional drama, (excepting the slightest bit of wry humour) just seemed really familiar and perfect.

All I know is that I love you, so deeply, and you make me laugh really hard. You are also becoming a bona-fide daughter. Like for instance, today before going to the fair, I felt a little sad that there was nobody to go with us. Your dad is out of town, and most of our friends were out of town, and the ones who stayed weren’t answering their phones, and so we went alone. This is an odd thing for me to do, as I am used to having company on adventures. I am also not used to the experience of feeling socially needy, but there it is: Now completely bereft of any form of true solitude, I find myself craving company. I thought about staying at home and wallowing in feelings of self-pity and abandonment, but was motivated to go: To get out of the house, Because I can’t afford to wallow in depression, and really it just seemed that the Thing to do would be to watch you hang with some farm animals. And it turned out to be so much fun! You were really great company, you were the perfect companion, we had a perfectly complete experience. Alert and wide-eyed and curious, taking it all in. Tonight while tucking you in, I marveled at the length of you under the covers. A girl, a child- not such a baby anymore.

It has been two months since I last wrote in this journal. I honestly don’t know where the time has gone, or why I can never find the time to write, except that I have been exhausted chasing after your growing independent voracious curiosity, and your dad is gone for a month, and I am tired, and trying to work more for Adue during precious dwindling nap-time hours, and, well- just pretty much feeling like I am barely keeping my head above the water, let alone have the mental clarity to process our experiences into intelligible narrative.


The vertical plane



But so much has happened! You started crawling, and then immediately wanted to walk around everywhere holding onto our hands. And then you became bored with the horizontal plane and so it became all about grabbing our hands and lifting one leg up high in the air until it gained leverage on some elevated surface. In this way you scale chairs, boxes, tables, fences, kiddie pool walls, stroller wheels, and any other such mountainous feature. You learned to climb up stairs very soon after learning to crawl, and this was an all-encompassing passion for a month or so, and then at about 10+ months, you learned to descend. Technique: Flatten tummy against the stairs, and then point elegant searching foot down, down into space until it reaches landfall. Then the other leg pivots and lands- the butt bumps down after, and the whole process starts again. You like to carrot-and–stick yourself (it is always good to have motivation) and this is done by taking a favorite toy/ shoe/ article of clothing, and flinging it down the stairs before you. Climbing down to it, picking it back up, throwing it down.


Your first word


You aren’t saying any words yet (at least not intentionally), but you have started to clap your hand to your chest whenever you see a dog, or whenever I say the word “doggy” in conversation. The sign for doggy is clapping the hand against the thigh (so I guess hitting your chest would be considered a slight mispronunciation (hee hee) and it is the first time I have seen you attach a concept to a meme. Voila: your first word! I am so excited, and renewed in my enthusiasm to teach us sign language. And I really can’t wait for speech to start tumbling out. It is so rewarding to see you attach concepts and names to a previously uncategorized external world. You also have started to listen to me say “no”, and will stop whatever you are doing to look at me (if only for a moment) and grin. And then do it again, of course. But that pause is everything. That pause is sublime.


Exhaustion


David Whyte says the antidote to exhaustion is whole-heartedness. And I am trying to remember that, daily. Truly I am. I am trying just to open up to my life exactly as it is, without longing for the things I don’t have (space, money to hire babysitters, time in my studio). I think parenting can really do an amazing job of presenting a pretty unforgiving, piercing mirror into your own inadequacies, your spiritual roadblocks.

I am tired of having to always be strong and cheerful, to be a grown-up, to shoulder the burden happily and with an open heart, to be problem-solving, to be continuously turning a situation around in my hand so that I can see all sides of it, mentally readjusting my perception so that I can see the beauty that is hiding on its backside. It takes so much effort to be a grown-up, and to abandon the selfish life of pleasure and self-satisfaction. Can I admit that I am tired of picking up the same bottles and toys that you fling to the floor, over and over again? I am tired of wiping your ass and the floor and high-chair five times a day. Crawling on all hands and knees, cleaning cheerios out of crevices and corners, constantly amazed at how dirty a floor looks when you have your nose down to it. I want to crawl into bed and have somebody take care of me, and let me cry and be wretched and sad and not try to fix the problem, but let me snuggle up into their armpit, and sleep. For a year.

Okay, I didn't really mean what I said about being tired of wiping your bum. Truly I don't mind that part. It is truly so cute.


Brooklyn: Park Slope Mamas and their Sweet Strollers


Ah yes. So we had a really fun time in Brooklyn after dropping Jamba off at the airport at the end of July. We stayed at Emily and T’s apartment in Park Slope for a whole week, and after a few exhausting and grumpy trips on the subway with Jamba to Central Park and downtown (up and down all those stairs lugging the stroller, and so muggy underground), decided to keep to our adventures to those we could walk to, aboveground. So we went everyday to Prospect Park and explored brownstone neighborhoods, window shopped and gallery hopped, and caught free outdoor concerts, thought everyday about going to the zoo but didn’t. We enjoyed the swampy heat and hanging out with my dear old friend Carla, crazy wonderful Jason at his cool art loft in Williamsburg, and Rachel and Scott on our last morning, and basically pretended to be locals when Emily and T graciously left us their apartment for the weekend when they fled to the coolness of the coast. Everybody loved you. Emily and T both swooned for you, loved playing with you in the mornings before heading to work (practicing for when they get pregnant which is going to be like immediately after their wedding I bet). Carla (who has a lot of experience with babies, being a professional nanny) said you were the most vocal baby she had ever met. With your wild screeches and lion’s breath and squawks and so forth. We went to the Brooklyn farmers market, enjoyed being around an organic, slow food culture, and went to the playground almost every day, where tons of cool multi-cultural Brooklyn kids ran around in their different languages, and a line of babies were being swung back and forth by their mamas/dads/ nannies, and we discovered that you actually love to swing- it was just that our little backyard one doesn’t get enough velocity to make it interesting enough for you. You love being slowly pulled up (chug chug chug, like a roller coaster) to chest-height, and then abruptly dropped into free-fall. Little dare-devil. You also love it when we pretend to be really hungry and gobble leap for your toes when they swing up into range of our monstery mouths. So now we go every day to the playground down the street that is built like a pirate ship, and play on the swings, and I wait for you to assume the role you were born to play: Pippi Longstocking (that is what all the striped pants have been gearing you up for, if you must know).


Camping at Wallace Bottoms & the elusive Sleep Monster

This was your first camping experience, with the delightful Andrea Gram and sweet new friends. It felt so good to be out in the country, camping and living the simple life (well, the simple life of the gourmand). Bath County (just a few hours drive away) is some sweet land indeed, and it really helped me to ground and connect to Virginia to experience some of its pristine nature. Highlights: cooking gourmet communal meals from garden bounty and farmers markets, group yoga in the morning sunlight, and morning coffee with the other earlybirds. Sleeping in a tent again! What fun! Our campsite was incredible, perched up on a cliffside overlooking this sweet little swimming hole, with a hammock to enjoy the panoramic view. Hot days and cold clean water to swim in. Ahhhhh. And it was a good practice run, being a short three days, because it made me realize how utterly unprepared I was to camp with an infant. So, for next time: Bring more gear to make things more comfortable, ie: a dependable foam mattress and a portable crib- someplace (a non-sweltering tent) put you down for midday naps.

Downsides: you hated being put into the tent at night to sleep- it really scared you to be zipped up on your own in an unfamiliar environment, and you were pressing your whole body against the fabric of the tent trying to push your way through, and screaming. It was really really sad (and frankly a little scary looking- you looked like an image from a horror movie pressing your face against the white mesh) but you needed to sleep!!! I didn’t know what to do!!! I tried to get you to fall asleep with me lying next to you and nursing, but i couldn't figure out how to get off the blow-up mattress without bouncing you around and waking you up. Basically it was really hard to put you down. And the mattress kept deflating through the night. And naps, without the familiar crib, became sleeping on my chest while I sat in a chair and read. Well- that was kind of a sweet experience actually. But it would have been nice to have some time to myself, I guess (a familiar refrain?)

Andrea was so sweet and lullabied you to sleep one night for 45 minutes when I just couldn’t take it anymore. Her sister sat outside the tent and played low soothing guitar. (Honestly you are the most loved and cherished baby, you really are).

So: Even though it was wonderful to be out in nature, and Nico just went out of her mind with joy, and you seemed to love all the company and the excitement of trees and river, and oh man- floating in the river with you in your little yellow blow-up island: I swear to god that was like heaven on earth— it was hard, too, and I think it inaugerated a major regression in the sleep department. You got used to sleeping next to me all night again, and nursing through the night, and so here we are over a week later, still struggling to get you back on track. See, we had just had the magical experience (the weekend before the trip) of you sleeping on your own, spontaneously through the night, and I had my first solid seven hours of sleep in a row, in over a year, and I swear the heavens seemed to open up and pour golden shouts of happiness on my head. It was like I was instantly cured, of all this crazy sadness and insanity. I thought “this is it: this is how it is going to be from now on” all smug and delighted with you- and so, to be back, now— to a situation in which you wake up at 12:30 and scream in your crib for an hour (with me checking on you every 20 minutes or so, and patting you on the head, or putting you down on your stomach, and then firmly leaving) and then again at 3am, and then again at 5… well, sweet child, it is enough to make a poor mama wanna shoot herself in the head. Give me a break, okay?

Sorry for so much of this journal being about sleep- but it is kind of a big deal right now, and I am a little obsessed with hunting down that elusive sleep monster. I don’t know why you seem to hate going to bed so much. I really don’t. You just scream and cry and cry- you seem to hate it and I don’t know why. It is the only time you seem to get really unhappy. Is it the crib? Is it being left alone? I am sure it is just about being alone in your room, without me. You are really so very attached still. But you are going to have to learn to be on your own at some point- and at 11 months, I feel that you are ready. I believe in you. My relationship with sleep has always been sane, sound, and profoundly deep, and I am determined to pass it on to you.
I think that is entirely enough for now...... Jamba is back in on Sunday... I can't wait!

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