The Kitchen Table

One Year Check Up

Bama and I saw Dr. G on Monday, her pediatrician, for her one year check up. Mister and I usually go together, but he had a business meeting. When we are both there, he handles the weighing and undressing and so on. I usually sit eating bon bons. This time, without Mister, I handle the wiggler on the scale, already tricky and made trickier by her exhaustion (we were way into what should have been nap time).

Dr. G asked the various development questions: walking (no), pulling up (oh, yes), finger-walking (yes), saying any words?

Um. words. 

Speed Racer is saying "Ca" and "Da." Bama has mystery words. Dabin. Apum. We're pretty sure they mean something, but neither Mister nor I know what they are. (For the record, I thought Dabin was book, but ...) On Sunday, though, as she was pulling on my mother's necklace, and we were saying, "gentle" to Bama who kindly stroked the necklace and said, "yenyil," which sounded a lot like "gentle." Dr. G said she could have said it. Ah, our progeny.

We've been reading to Bama pretty much since day one. I used to read a bit from New Yorker articles while I nursed. She didn't seem to mind nor did she seem to like them. We read three books before naps and bed. At some point, Mister started offering her two books to choose from. It's a regular thing with us, but these days, Bama is wanting to select books from her bookshelf. This can be challenging, when you have the wordless wonder pointing and "ah-ah"-ing, four books later, you find the one she wants. (Current favorites: Touch and Feel: Farm , Snoozers : 7 Short Short Bedtime Stories for Lively Little Kids , I Am a Bunny (A Golden Sturdy Book) , Ten Little Ladybugs and a few other touch and feel books I can't find links for. Mister's current favorite is Guess How Much I Love You while I'm fond of I Am a Bunny and Ten Little Fingers and Ten Little Toes.

I talked with Dr. G about weaning, something about which I have mixed feelings. On the one hand, I'd like my nipples back. On the other hand, I love curling up with her and nursing. We'll be fine when the transition comes, and I'm not likely to be one of the mothers who nurses her child until kindergarten, but it is a big change for us, especially since Bama has never taken a bottle.

Before weaning, though, we're cutting out the night-time wakings. Currently, Bama wakes up around 11pm and again around 3am, give or take. That has to end so we're ending it this week. Yes, it does suck, Virginia. One night in and it was awful. We'll live, but it isn't a good time listening to your child cry as she waits for you to nurse her back to sleep. I comforted her, played solitaire on my iPhone, and felt lousy. I'm hopeful tonight is better but am not expecting it to be. (I told her she is learning how to go to bed on her own. Sigh.)

Happy Birthday, My Girl!

Bama looked different to me when Mister brought her into our room this morning. She was one! Of course, she's not different. She's still her same sweet, funny, interesting self, but one seemed so much more of her, somehow. I was a little teary over the end of our first year together, which has been wonderful and exhausting and entertaining and interesting and isolating and all together so much more than any head can wrap around.

Many of our family and friends, people who are central to Bama's life, came to celebrate her big day. Our big day.

Aunty Cake helped get everything ready. Mister, who is still recovering from pneumonia (no joke, people, pneumonia is brutal) was on Bama-duty, but also had to make sure he didn't overdo it, an easy thing to do if you're hanging out with your favorite birthday girl. Cake and I made cupcakes yesterday; I stayed up to finish her birthday outfit (and learn what bias tape is for, how to make my own, and use it).

At 10am, I checked my email while making the buttercream for the cupcakes. I got teary at a collage of all the babies in our mama's group spelling out "Happy Birthday --" Wow! Bama and I take a picture for their birthdays so this was the group's picture for us. Such beautiful babies! They've become important to us over the last 10 months, and it's been exciting to see all of them grow into themselves.

 

A flotilla of cupcakes (vanilla and chocolate).

An unwilling helper.

Vanilla buttercream, the important candle. Birthday crown in the background.

A garland for our beautiful girl from Piapie and her beautiful girls.

She's more excited by Papa's face then by the promise of first cake.

We don't have as many pictures of our guests as I would like (okay, we have about five), but there was baby-wrangling, visiting, and eating happening. It was more fun to be a part of the party instead of documenting it.

Our girl ended her day in a sea of paper with some awesome gifts -- big girl puzzles, books, snow clothes, blocks, and a pink  scooting princess machine. (The farm cat is driving and the farm dog is along for a ride. She's carrying the princess.)

She amazes us with her sweetness and curiosity, she fascinates us with her intensity. I knew I'd love my girl, I just did not know how big that love would be.

For Me?!

For Me?!, originally uploaded by bgreenlee.

Happy Birthday to our girl.

Tilting of the Smart Cookie

Bama loves to pull off her socks. It can screw up her balance, though, as she pulls and pulls on an unyielding sock. Tonight she tipped over as she tried in vain to get her right sock to release its hold on her foot.

What did she do after that? Sat up, swiveled around so her back was to the counter and went at it again. This time, she did not tip over though she bonked into the cabinet a few times. I had to loosen the sock a bit to help her remove it, but it did not occur to me she'd understand leverage. Smart cookie.

Something You Might Like #15

Kitchen

CSA's are awesome unless you're getting something every week you really don't want.

Fall. I love fall, but an eggplant a week has been challenging. I've been making ratatouille regularly and have found that I do, in fact, like eggplant though it still freaks me out and I have to think about every bite. I'm done with peppers. Done. But squash? Winter squash? Bring it on (not sure which you have and what it's like? Check here). Tomorrow, for our happy birthday/Happy Halloween celebration with all eleven babies in our group I'll be bringing this farro and butternut squash dish .

Tonight (it's 12:42am) I made Halloween meringue ghosts. They are tasty! and easy. Just don't underestimate the baking time. (PS: Heidi Swanson gives some good meringue tips with her own ghost recipe.)

Apple cake in a skillet? Yes, thanks!

Love

I don't know if I love Feeleez, but after Amanda Soule wrote about them (and, of course, gave a set away to someone else since I continue to never, ever win anything), I've been thinking about getting us a set for Bama. We all of us could explore our emotional intelligences but most likely need tools to do so. Although most teachers are familiar at least with Howard Gardner's work, Frames Of Mind: The Theory Of Multiple Intelligences, it's not a common dinner table topic. I put these into the category of useful for parents and children.

Make

We need wall hooks if I want to hang some of these great bags, but what a clear tutorial and nice idea for kids! I might add a second strap for toting.

I don't have anything in particular to recommend to make from Two Straight Lines, but you'll probably find something you'd like to do after checking it out. (I like the monster bag and am inspired to sand my hella old bookcase and paint it.)

Something to Think About

I thought I'd skip Po Bronson's NurtureShock: New Thinking About Children, but after reading this chapter, "See Baby Discriminate," excerpted in Newsweek, I put it on my list at the library. I posted it to FB and brought it up with friends. Last night, three of my mamas and I had an interesting conversation about race, talking about race with our children, and what isn't said in conversations (and in newspapers, and on tv). Race is uncomfortable but it race issues won't get better if we aren't talking.

It's no secret that I dig Hugh Fearnley-Whittingstall and his food crusade. Add Jamie Oliver (aka, The Naked Chef) to the list for taking on pig farming in England and unhealthy lunches in the U.S. A regular lunch at the school where I teach? French fries and pizza -- it's on the menu. Chili poured over Frito corn chips. Hot Cheetos dipped in cream cheese. 

To probiotics or not to probiotics? Mister's taken several rounds of brutal antibiotics to kick his pneumonia. Several friends and the local pharmacist suggested he take probiotics to get his stomach in working order. Is it hype? Or real?

Visit

I love focused blogs like Spots Unknown: San Francisco. It's interesting, unique, and lovely in its finds. This particular link to film footage is beautiful. It could be the music but I think it's the other-worldliness of the video (filmed in 1958).

Paris Daily Photo. What else should I say?

I just like ohdeehdoh from apartment therapy. In my 20s, it was Martha Stewart. My aesthetic has changed a bit but still like these highly stylized ideas. Fairy doors? Sweet!

Progressive Pioneer might be too crunchy for some of us, but it's pro-mama and I like that.

Inhabitots fancies itself a green resource for parents. Great toy recommendations, interesting articles. (Do you need organic play-dough?)

My mother (Grandmother) sent this along -- cool biking. This kind of biking impresses the heck out of me. Makes me wish I could do at least one trick.

Attacked with Love

When we celebrated my mother's birthday a couple of weekends ago, Bama was already in bed. Her cousins were disappointed. Her oldest cousin said he wanted to "attack her with love." Nice. They always attack her with love. It's my new favorite phrase.
Mister attacks Bama with love and gets some love in return.

Bama Lamb or Not to Lamb

I've called Bama Lamb since she was born so it made perfect sense that she be a lamb for Halloween. I figured she'd be crawling (check) and possibly not walking (double-check), so a little lamb scooting around the floor seemed brilliant.

Except that I couldn't really sew (reminding all of you that I can, in fact, sew now and that I could before, just not well, or straight, or neatly) and I especially could not make up my own lamb pattern. Sure, a big white sweatsuit outfit turned into a lamb, that's a good idea. But lambs are scarce these days. No lamb patterns in the costume packets from Butterick et al. Mama E is dressing the boy as a monkey but the etsy shop where she bought her monkey kit does not sell lambs.

What's an ewe to do?

Call her mother. In fairness, I called to ask her opinion about two costumes for sale at The Mini-Social but my mother offered to make Bama her lamb costume. My mother lives in Truckee so we didn't do any official fittings. Oops.

With the legs attached, we can't really get the top on and definitely can't get it closed. I thought I should experiment with the top without the legs to see if I could get it on Bama and if she'd wear it.

 

Sad, sad lamb.

 

Fierce lamb.

 

Get me outta this lamb.

I detached the legs and will sew them together into pants. We'll see if she wears it. Magic 8 Ball says, "Future is Murky."

Growing Up

We started calling Lentil Lentil when we were pregnant. We didn't know the sex of the baby, which my mother still finds incomprehensible, and we wouldn't reveal the names we'd chosen. We called her Lentil because at one point, she was as big (or small) as a Lentil.

We even enlisted my sister in a prank -- she told my mother the baby would be named Gollum (I'd seen an emergency room doc named Dr. Gollum after Mister and I were re-ended). My mother bought it, even thinking the baby was a boy because Gollum sounded so boy-like. Hee hee.

Lentil seemed to fit for our in utero girl, but I don't call her that around the house. She has a myriad of nicknames these days though I tend to call her Bama (bama lamb, so silly). So, in honor of her homemade nickname, I'm going to refer to her as Bama ... not to be confused with BaMa, our grown-up friend and no relation to Bama. ;)

Chomp

Lentil's a little late to the teeth game. Her bottom teeth came in in August when she was 10 months old. Over the last four weeks, her top teeth have slowly made their way down, starting with her left incisor and moving across to the right. For a couple of weeks, I was sure she'd be a snaggle tooth for her birthday, which is coming up soon, in just 13 days!

But no, everyday the teeth descend a bit more. I gave her a teething cookie this morning and finally, the teething part of the cookie made sense. Something with which to wear down the new sharpies in her mouth. It is better than grinding, a fleeting occurrence I was terrified would become habit.

(I'd show you pictures of her teeth, but they are a state secret.)

Our mamas group has been abuzz with discussions about naps -- whose dropping naps (none of them, really, they are too little) or whose are disrupted (all of them, it seems). I finally went back and read through Penelope Leach's Your Baby and Child: From Birth to Age Five (Revised Edition) to do a brush-up of my six-12 month baby and prep for the magic year. We have a bit of work to do at Chez Mama. Like wean. Lentil never took to the bottle so I've been nursing her sans bottle for 50 weeks. That's a lot of time and I'd like a rest. I realized that I needed to be more focused about the whole weaning thing, and that it isn't going to happen if I'm not systematic about it. The incoming top teeth haven't been a huge issue, but I think the teeth are a good signal that we're ready to move on to milk and maybe only one nursing with Mama session a day.

At least, one of us is.

All about the Girl, Me, the House, the Blog, Things To Do

Before I started this blog, I had a blog about teaching that had a fairly regular and sizeable following. Th posts were about curriculum, classroom management, activities. I occasionally whined, but generally, it had focus and purpose. The Kitchen Table is still working itself out. What is lacking, however, is stuff about us and our lives. It seems oddly impersonal to me, as though I'm keeping my thoughts at arms' length. This became more clear since Piapie started a blog so friends from all parts of the country could follow their adventures in the DC area. Piapie and the gang temporarily transplanted to the DC while Papi Chulo does some work for the feds (this is not a wholly accurate description, but it sounds exciting ... high school science teacher goes to Washington and makes a change in the world of education).

The Footles also keep a blog that chronicles their twins' days (a recent shot showed them holding hands, so sweet). I keep Lentil secret. I mean, I'm not really sure how many people actually read this blog. I know that Mister does, and so does Cake, and Piapie does on occasion. But regularly? I haven't resolved how much to talk about, which in turn makes this blog a little too diary-like. I don't fancy myself a professional mommy-blogger (for one thing, I think I've missed the boat on that idea, and for another, I simply cannot post everyday, and certainly not with extraordinary pictures. Someone has to clean the kitchen.)

So, here I am, sitting at the kitchen table, sipping tea and thinking about this blog and why I keep it at all.  Part of it is ego. I like to write, I'd like to work on my writing. It wasn't really about Lentil in the beginning, more about our whole life together. But there's so little of her here and she's so very funny and fantastic that I have to bring her into the fold more. I have ways to remember the days with her, but some people, like my mother, don't live close enough to see her daily, let alone weekly.

A few weeks ago (already? a few), Mister watched Lentil while I ran errands. It was a whole day without her. He wanted to take her to sushi lunch -- her first time and I insisted on going with them. Lunch didn't work out, but dinner did, and Cake and Nana joined us. She gobbled down avocado rolls and miso soup, and probably would have liked the fish but I said no to raw fish since I had not consulted the Mama Manual on sushi and babies before we went out.

You can't see her disco shirt, but it has a dude with a blow-out spinning vinyl. Lentil is hip. Mister and I are not.

This as the first trip to a restaurant in a long time with her. Dinner is at 5:30, then we are off and running in our bedtime routine. She held up remarkably well. She hung out on my lap while eating. Chatted with everyone, looked around, but seemed content. That is her nature, really. She is easy-going. I don't know if that's nature or nurture, but it is who she is.

The first are interesting and intense. I had to ask Mister not to make all of their days together the super-awesome exploring fun days, which leaves mine as the usual, ho-hum, pancakes again kind of days. Not a good balance if I'm bologna and he's prime rib. (I think I'm hungry.) Lentil and I have done some museum trips, but here are others on our list:

• Fairyland (complete with my silver anniversary key my parents bought for me when I was six or so)
• Habitot
• Ardenwood (a working farm)
• a ferry ride
• Museum of the African Diaspora
• Contemporary Jewish Museum of San Francisco
• Oakland Zoo
• the beach

This isn't a complete list, just a few places to add to our list of sites and sights. Next weekend, we're having a family day in Golden Gate Park, just like Mister and I used to when we lived only a few blocks from the park. Oh, heady days.