Sava in the New Year

It is the last day of the year, everything all swept up into a bundle of meaning to carry on a stick into the new year. You are 15 months old, and what has happened in the last three months is really unbelievable. For instance, you are definitely a kid now. Not a baby. Babies are the other kids that we see at the library and bookstore, or the book of baby faces that you have to say goodnight to every night, or when you catch a glimpse of yourself in old videos. You see a baby and start vigorously swinging your arms back and forth in sign language. You are irresistibly drawn to babies, while you yourself are morphing every week into a new being, layers of experience building on layers of existence. Today I am attempting to spend the entire day in pajamas, and collect some of the fragments of memories of the past few months into this diary.
I guess, first I would like to say that our relationship has evolved into something completely new. This is the most fun I have had with you since you were born.. not that it hasn't all been so exquisite, but it has been challenging: heaven with a dash of torture. Now some of that stressed-out, out-of-control, what the hell are we doing? are we doing this right? How do we know? feeling is lessening, as you are obviously turning out just fine, and gaining independence and a small measure of self-sufficiency, a will of your own including the ability to communicate that will- and as we are starting to really understand each other, in a mutually flow-back-and-forth sort of way. I like this. I really like watching your distinct personality emerge. It is so rewarding.

A sweet moment from today: listening to Puccini's aria in the car on the way home from daycare, I had prepared some peanut butter on toast for you and you were happily munching on it in your car seat, smearing it all over your jacket and face of course, and making the happy digestive "mmmmmmm"-ing sound that you make when you think something tastes especially good. The arias were trembling and peaking and tumbling all over themselves, and the snow was lit by golden light, and I remember feeling suddenly quite happy as I peeked into the mirror and caught you with your eyes slitted almost closed, still rapturously chewing, and I imagined, enjoying the elegance of the music. Next time I glanced back, you were thoroughly passed out, hand still clenching the remaining toast.

I guess the most striking thing to me, the most apparent change, has been the development of language in the last month. Really, the last two weeks have been like opening a flood dam- words are just starting to pour out. You have added "mama", "dada", "ball", "up", "cheese" (eez) "moo" (what does a cow say?) "hat", "ruff ruff"(what does a doggy say?), "qua qua" (what does a duck say?), and of course, your all-time favorite new word, "more" while pointing your index finger into the palm of the other hand. I should add it is pronounced like a true Bronx girl = 'mwoah'.

On "Mwoah"
Your father was remarking on the amazing fact that you use "more" not to just indicate a desire for more objects, as in "more cheese" or "more milk", but can communicate a desire to repeat experiences as well. Today, he was reading in bed and you clambered onto his lap, and he started to read to you from his 'Dictionary of Philosophy'. As in: 'Semantics: The study of meaning . . . blah . . . blah'. I watched your head kind of list to one side as you stared off into space, lids lowered, and I laughed as I was folding laundry and said 'Jamba, I think you are boring her stiff,' so he put his book to one side. You suddenly perked up and said 'mwoah? mwoah?' while jamming your finger into his fist. So he shrugged and picked up the book and you clenched your fists into your lap the way you do when you are really excited. 'Dogma: The . . .'

On 'Dada' vs. 'Mama'
The day you called your father 'Dada' was one of the happiest days of his life, but you just as often call him 'Mama', as this seems to be a catchall phrase indicating something like 'source of greatest comfort and desire'. I told him he should consider himself honored, but he persists in laughingly correcting you every time.

Okay, but even beyond the words that have started tumbling out, there has been a notable and remarkable leap forward in terms of comprehension. I am astonished at how much language you understand, and respond to. I can tell you to do things, and you do them. I ask you point to your cheek, and you do it. You know all the parts of the body. (How did you learn that?) I ask you to bring me your hat, and you do it. I tell you to show something to daddy and you obediently totter off to find him. If you are clamoring for something, I can ask you to wait for a minute, you actually calm down, knowing that relief will soon be on its way. Today we were walking around the room together, having already played with the farm and with Ros and with the ukelele, and you were a little on edge, and so I asked you, 'Do you want to ride on your horsie?' And you shook your head 'no.' 'Do you want to read a book' and you shook your head 'no'. And I walked over to the door and asked 'Do you want to go outside?' And you nodded your head 'Yes'. Totally, amazing. I absolutely love the relationship we can have when words are involved.


Froghopping
Yesterday, a very wonderful and silly new game was invented: Sava jumping on command. You were kind of jumping up and down while a song was going, and I started laughing. It was so cute. You maybe cleared like an inch at most, but you scrunched all the way down to the floor to do it. I told you "Sava, get down" and you scrunched down again, and then I said "one two three: Jump!" and you did your little froghop. So cute!!! We played that for awhile.

Raising the Roof
About four months ago, we put a stereo upstairs on the little bookshelf in the little pocket of hallway that connects our three upstairs rooms, and you have become obsessed with the music that comes pouring out of the little box that you can just reach. You are always pointing to it, asking for the music to be turned on, and then after about 20 seconds of song, and some pretty awesome bouncing and twirling, you go up to it and turn the dial to shut it off. I think it is fascinating to you, to have a sense of power or control over the music. Anyway we have started a morning tradition of having quick dance parties in that little square of space up in front of the window, with me often putting articles of clothing on between takes. You have some pretty awesome dance moves, having recently added "turning around in a circle" to your repertoire, and our new favorite, which is to stick your tummy out while you lean back and kind of wave your arm across your body like a lazy disco star. When you want to dance, you either point to a stereo, or more usually, put your hand up in the air to 'raise the roof', which is what I guess we have taught you from all of our picking you up and bouncing madly around the kitchen while listening to hip hop.

There is so much to tell. Your hair is just starting to grow in a little, and it is getting darker, although it still glints like coppery honey in the sunlight. You are apparently composed of super-condensed matter, like a collapsing star, as you are getting increasingly difficult to heft around town. Luckily, you like to walk everywhere. It is hard for me to actually imagine you crawling, so quickly have you acclimated to life in the vertical plane.

Goodnight Moon
A few months ago Daddy initiated a goodnight ritual with you, that has actually really helped you to start going to sleep better at night. It involves getting into pjs, rolling around on the bed and playing a spot of ukelele, maybe reading a book (although you are still generally uninterested in reading, other than the process of manipulating the pages), and then he picks you up in his arms and you go around the room saying goodnight to everything in the room, waving your little hand to each thing in turn.

The order is: Goodnight butterflies. goodnight street. Goodnight paper lantern (hit that, he says, and you hit it with your dinky hand). Goodnight sun, goodnight moon (the string of lighted ornaments draped across the room). Goodnight mama's paintings (she painted these while you were still a newt in her belly). Goodnight other paper lantern (touch this one . . . gently). Goodnight world outside the window (pulling aside the curtain, and naming the things you see though the window. He says 'Goodnight snow' (at which point you touch your nose) and 'Goodnight roof' (at which point you let out a gentle 'ruf ruf'' doggy bark). Then you continue: Goodnight babies (and you swing your arms back and forth). Then, we put you in the crib, and he picks up each of your stuffed animals and asks you which ones you want to sleep with. THis is a process of elimination in which he holds them on the edge of the crib and talks through them in silly voices to see which ones you'll bat to the floor.

I am really happy to see that you are a child of joy and happiness and love. You are so sweet and affectionate. The past few weeks, you have really started to say "Mama" a lot. You will be nursing and you will stop to look up at me and say "Mama?" There is such a clear earnestness to the word. And I look down at you and say "Yes?" You pausing to look up at me and say "Mom?", questioningly, has a little bit of the same flavor as your previous nursing ritual, which was to, while nursing, look up at me sideways and squeeze your fist in the sign for "milk", so that I would look down at you and softly say "Milk" back to you, and you would grin and kind of scrunch back down to business, renewed. It seemed to tickle you so much- to hear the word attached with the action, and to also to be able to get me to say something on command.

That is actually kind of an interesting thing to write about. Jamba and I have noticed that a favorite game- one that sends you over the moon (we know you are sublimely happy when you arch your back all the way back while squealing) is to get us to attach regular repetitive sound to your movements. For instance, if I am holding you in my arms with us facing each other, and you start bouncing up and down, I go "bouncy bouncy bouncy bouncy", where "bounce" is timed to your lowest squat, and "see" is timed to your upward thrust, and we could play that game for awhile. You love it.. you love the machine of cause and effect. The key is in the utter predictability of it, so that it is not just a game of will or control, but rather a simple fact of nature, like gravity or water falling. We gave you a jewelry box at xmas, a velvety one that opens and shuts with a satisfying snap, and every time you opened it, I said "open" and every time you closed it, I said "shut" and my god -something clicked in you. You were doing it over and over again while I said "open shut open shut open shut" and man, there was some back arching and general falling over from all the happiness.

Your main focus of play is still the physical manipulation of objects. Putting things into compartments, fitting objects into slots. Pulling the toilet paper off the roll, tearing it up into little pieces, and putting those pieces carefully into the trash. Opening and closing boxes. In the bath, pouring water from one container into another. Favorite reading books are the ones with flaps that open and close, or that have portals from one page to the other, and our act of reading is generally one of us blurting out text as you turn the pages, open and close the book, etc. You are starting to really jabber while you are playing, ie when you are stuffing all the farm animals into the silo, so I imagine there is some narrative in your head as you are at work, but for now, that is still a mystery to us.

You will roll and tumble all over us with kisses and affection. You love being hugged and tickled and kissed. You like to say 'Mama?' and have me say 'yes?' and then give me a kiss. I am happy that all the love and affection we have poured into you, is so easily coming tumbling right back out. For instance, the other night, we were rolling around on the bed in your room, and I had bare feet: i think I was wearing underwear and a shirt, as we had just gotten out of the shower, and you were walking all around me on the bed and tumbling over me, and I was lifting you up into airplane and so on... and I had my feet up in happy baby pose doing a little stretch, when you suddenly grinned and walked up so that your chest was at the level of my feet, and started tickling my bare feet with your fingers! It was so spontaneous and hilarious and loving all at the same time. I couldn't believe the tables were turned and finally you were the one tickling me! Daddy came in to join in the fun and we remembered that you had tickled his feet once when we were all together in bed and you had been watching me rub his feet, and then came up to do the same, and he started laughing pretending that you were tickling him, which you loved. Later he said he taught you how to tickle your dolly's feet, so that is what we figured inspired you this time.

It is so interesting, seeing the things that we do and say around you, starting to trickle back out. For instance, we were walking down the stairs in the dark and when we passed the paintings of the dogs on the wall, even though it was dark and you could probably barely see them, you went "ruf ruf" really quietly. I was surprised: I don't remember ever pointing them out to you, and yet you have accumulated a memory of their position in your life.

Love,
Mom

Goodnight

Tonight we went to the gym and we found the world's smallest weights for you to lift repeatedly over your head. You were so proud of yourself. At home later, you were very diligent in waving and saying "bye" (and almost goodnight) to everything in your room. We walked around and visited all of the butterflies (you made the sign for butterfly, the sign for tired, and then you waved), the pictures of the babies (you made the sign for baby), each individual light on the strand over your bed, the paintings and finally the drapes and the space heater. You waved to each one and said your good night. Then we put you into bed and you went immediately to sleep.

It was so cute that I annoyed you by kissing you too many times. Then I just about fell over because I was so tired.

Dear Sava, I'm exhausted!

Love Dad

uh oh!

Dear Sava,

It's 8:30 a.m. and we're in a hotel room in New Jersey near Philadelphia. You're sleeping in a portable crib in the next room, your mother is sleeping on the bed in this room, and Nico is sleeping on the warm spot I just vacated to write this blog entry. It was a difficult night. You were overtired and would not go to sleep. Then, you would not stay sleeping. This morning, we're staying in bed just a little bit longer. We want you to be bright-eyed for your first visit to the zoo.

You've been practicing your animal noises all week. It became evident last Friday that you've begun speaking real words ("This is an umbrella. Sava, can you say 'umbrella'?" "brrruhh"), but you seem to relish in animal sounds and playing your linguistic games with me.

The game

"Sava, what does a cow say?"

"Moooooo"

"Great!"

"Sava, what does a horse say?"

(You wag your head back and forth because this is the movement your mother makes when doing her horse imitation.)

"Great! You're such a smart little horse."

"Sava, what does a chicken say?"

"buh buh buh." (Your version.)

"Excellent!"

"Sava, what does a fish say?"

(You open and close your mouth without making a sound.)

"Yes! You're so amazing," I say.

"Sava, what does a baby say?"

Let's just pause a second while I explain. When you were an even smaller baby your grandfather taught us that the sound of the tongue clicking in the mouth is utterly fascinating to babies. You'd be crying and he'd click his tongue and that would be it. You'd stop crying and simply stare at his mouth waiting for the magic sound to happen again. Then I started noticing that a lot of people make this sound to babies. At some point you learned how to do this yourself, but it fell out of fashion some time ago, until now.

"Sava, what does a baby say?"

You look at me with the funniest expression and give a simple "cluck" of your tongue. Then you brace yourself for me tickling and kissing you.

This is your little game. The cluck isn't tied to the baby sound. Some mornings when you want to be kissed and tickled you'll cluck for every animal. Then, you learned how to say "uh oh". We think it must have come from daycare, because we don't say this. Now, you have a repertoire of sounds. Cats, dogs, farm animals, uh-oh, and you can shake your head yes and no (although, you prefer no).

Something funny happened when you began learning how to speak. A whole host of insanely funny expressions came along with language. The other day you were giving me a really forced and fake smile that seemed to devolve into a demonic looking bat child. Somehow, I understood this was a face you reserved only for me. After about 30 minutes of this, and other expressions, I called in your mother and you replicated the face several times. Everyone was in hysterics with how odd it was to see such a pronounced sense of humor from this pretty little child.

Since then, I've begun to notice that when I put you in front of a mirror, you begin practicing the faces that later show up when you're throwing a tantrum. Like last night, before and after we arrived at the hotel. I've also listened to you practicing your screaming voices. You cycle through them when you don't get what you want. You're beginning to match the right voice with the right face in order to help the will find its course. That's natural. But what I love, is that along with this exploration comes all of the games and the trial sounds and faces.

One of my favorites is your monkey. It's one of the reasons we've driven up to Philadelphia to go to the zoo with you. I can't wait to see your expression when you finally see monkeys--in person! Not just your dad jumping around the room, but real live monkeys. I can see you now, dancing around a room while scratching at your armpits and making your silly faces while clucking your tongue.

Then again, who knows what you'll pick up on today. All we do know is that it's going to be the highlight of our week.

Love,
Dad

Our Dinner: November 18th

Our Dinner: November 18th

emerald city salad
(fresh chard, wild rice (simmered in chicken stock and butter), red peppers, fennel bulb, parsley, broccoli, and red cabbage, all chopped fine) with a dressing of lemon juice, garlic and olive oil

sweet potato soup with chipotle cream sauce
(sweet potatoes and onions and carrots simmered in chicken broth, after carmelizing in butter: the cream sauce made of heavy whipping cream whipped into stiff peaks, and then a chopped chipotle from adobo sauce, and 4 tsps of the sauce folded in) as i recall there was some cumin and garlic pepper thrown in, and other stuff

we all got madly delirious after eating this meal- it was that good. recipes are available upon request.

I had four people in the kitchen helping me to make it. it was wild happy abandon; Jamba playing with Sava on the kitchen floor, blowing bubbles though a spatula (a trick he learned from a Curious George episode) making these big wild floating things- sava going out of her mind with happiness.

:Side notes: she has recently learned to make the trumpeting sound of an elephant.
:She has learned to make a hag face, after Jamba wrapped his head in a frame of fabric, stuck his halloween costume"billy bob" teeth in and thrust his lower chin out, and then hunched over in a hobbly sort of way and started lurching around the room with his crabapple fish-hawker's voice saying "i'm an ooolld hag, won't you spare me just a wee nibble?" and so on... So she picked up on the face, at least, and now they make old hag faces at each other. In her case, it is scrunching up her nose really tight.
:When asked "what does a fishy say" she opens her mouth open and shut like a guppy.

Coming Back from Seattle (October 2009)

From Mom:
Sava was just tackling me on the bed, and kissing me repeatedly on the mouth. She is finally getting the swing of closing her mouth before kissing me, but our makeout sessions always leave me drenched in a copious amount of drool.

The Letter H
We just had hot chocolate for the first time, tonight in the lobby.
Her first word is "Hi"
Her second word is "Hot" as in "Sava, those eggs are hot. Let them cool down first" And then she picks them up and blows on them, saying "Ha.. Ha.. Ha" (just now, down in the lobby, she started to try to pronounce the "t" at the end of it.)

She knows how to sign "bird" "dog" "kitty" "milk" "ball" & "shoes", and "water" and "sleepy" and she knows how to make a sound like a monkey. ("hoo hoo hoo hoo"). Today, at the Seattle Aquarium, she called the tropical hawaiian fishes "birds" as they floated in the space around her head, and when she saw the sea otters rolling around and necking in the water, she started to make the sound of a monkey.....

Tricking Mommy:
Up in the San Juans, early morning, sitting by the fire. You had nursed all morning and it was a bleary 7am, and we were softly playing in the living room, trying not to wake anybody else up. I was so sleepy and it was still dark, and i really was just bleary, astonished at how much energy you had, wishing my mom wasn't sick so that she could play with you and I could crawl back into bed. You were a little on edge, and kept making the sign for wanting to nurse but I just couldn't, after having nursed you all night, and you would get up and play, and scooch around, while I sat kinda grumpily and self-pityingly in the chair by the fire. Then after awhile you came over to me and looked at me and made the sign for "sleepy" which is to pull your open hand from your forehead down your face. I couldn't believe my luck: "you want to sleep? hell yes, baby! Let's go!" and so i practically leapt into bed with you, so grateful for the chance to take a nap. But as I put you down in bed beside me, you started grinning in your maniacal way- leering at me really, and coyly made the sign for milk, as you lay in bed waiting for my breasts to descend to their expected position. And I stared at you, totally amazed at how perfectly you had conned me. and then I just laughed and laughed, and I couldn't really be tired after that. Little trickster. Little abstract sneaky thinker.You are going to keep us on our toes.

Dinky Walks!

Baby Steps
October 3, 2009

You were up and down all night: 12:30, 4, 4:30, 7, 7:30…You simply could not sleep. And consequently, neither could any of us. I headed your final outburst and took you away to let your mom sleep in.

We were both sick with sniffles and sore throats. After a hot shower, I changed you into a new outfit Jeremy sent you for your birthday (and which raised your coolness levels by about a year), and then I changed your socks and played funny songs to you on the ukulele. Meanwhile, you studied the Christmas lights we hung up in your room three nights ago.

You've adopted a new ultra-casual way of lying back on your pillow and checking out the world. And every now and again, you’d glance over at the chord I was playing on the ukulele, and you'd give me your sound—an offhanded “hmmm" (which seems to say, "Oh yeah, that").

Suddenly, you were actively crawling about the bed and checking out the contours of your room. You clomped and shuffled over stuffed animal, pillows and plastic blocks. You gave a sly look to the monkeys on the cover of your Nat’l Geographic book, then turned to give me an embarrassed smirk. Then it was off again. This time, you opened the drawer where we keep your diapers—“hmmm”—, pulled several of them out of the drawer and held them up to the light—“hmmm”. Then it was off to your toy box, where you struggled to reach a white and yellow plastic phone, which you promptly stuck to your ear. “Hmmm.” Then you were off again, clomping and shuffling to a box under your crib.

I was feigning sleep on the bed, but you kept turning to gauge my reaction to your every movement. You struggled to get the box out from under your bed, then you opened the flaps and discovered several dolls your mother had put into storage. You put your hand into the box and dredged up a big blue and white macramé doll with a plastic head. You gave the doll a big hug, clutching it tightly to your chest, then you put it back into the box and slid the box back under the bed.

You had purpose and direction and clear motivation. This wasn’t the same little girl from a week ago. For a moment I felt like I was catching the dog playing poker. You were a contented little explorer, charting the unknown regions of your room.

My eyes were almost completely closed, but you studied me for a long moment before continuing your work. You used the door as leverage to stand yourself up. One last look over your shoulder, and then you extended both your hands up toward doorknob. I thought, You know how doors work? When that project failed (Drat, still too short!), you began knocking and slapping the door with your hands (Somebody let me out!). Every few seconds you’d look back to ensure that the racket hadn’t woken me up.

“My little sweet Dinky,” I said. (Dinky has become my new favorite name for you.)

You turned and gave me a big smile. You were still standing, but you had turned completely toward me. I was holding one of your many toothbrushes. You LOVE brushing your teeth. You swipe the brushes from out of the bathrooms, and you carry them around with you everywhere.

“Do you want the toothbrush?” I asked.

You started to make a move, and you reached out your little hand, but I retracted the toothbrush a few inches. Then, you gave me the sweetest little knowing glance....and you took a step…and another…and another… After the third step, you collapsed into my arms!

Your first steps!

I was hugging you and kissing you and picking you up in celebratory flights. And you were so excited because you knew exactly what had happened. Then you plopped back onto the bed and put on your little black plastic rain hat with the yellow flower, and you sat there with what I can only describe as a silly expression. You hate wearing hats, but here you were, just as comfortable as ever.

It was too much. I ran you into the next bedroom and we woke up your mother to tell her the excellent news.

If your first steps weren’t enough, it was the most beautiful day of the year. The sun was bright and golden, but the temperature was cool and tolerable. We went to the farmer’s market and we walked back to the house and spent some time in the backyard. That night, your mother played music at a birthday dance party and we stayed home. You were in the best mood, right up to bedtime. I changed you into your pink frog pajamas and you reclined on your bed and stared at the Christmas lights. I put you into your crib, kissed you and told you how proud I am that you walked. And without even so much as a noise, you turned and went straight to sleep. It was the first time I was able to walk around turning off all the lights without you sitting up and crying. Today you are all brand new.

***

It is 11:37 on Saturday, October 08, 2009. I’m lying down in the upstairs bedroom of our house in Harrisonburg, VA. It’s a comfortable house with light colored wood floors. The windows are closed because the nights have become cold. And because I had to move the night blooming jasmine inside, the entire house smells like jasmine. I’m in an iron-framed bed with a white comforter. At the foot of the bed is a dresser and a flatscreen television. A movie is playing, but I’m not watching. I’m halfway between reading Foucault and writing about you. There is a smell of food coming from the downstairs, because earlier I made squash with tomatoes from the garden and onions and sage from the farmer’s market.

Your mother called twenty minutes ago from the airport in Seattle to let me know that you started walking in the Chicago Airport terminal during a layover. You were playing on the carpeting when suddenly…up you went, taking more than twenty steps at a time!

Dinky walks!

Your first order of business as a walker was to start games with the people in the airport by walking your ball to an area of busy foot traffic. With a “hmmm,” you then rolled the ball into the crowd to see who might return it to you. Then you’d chase after ball and begin the process again. When I called, you couldn’t wait to take the phone from your mom and tell me all about it. Only problem is, you can’t form sentences and so your mother told me you made the sign language sign for “milk” into the phone. This is a good sign. Milk if your favorite. At this rate, you’ll be talking by next week.

- Dad

^{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 12^{th, 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!