Booooo! Da Baby

Buddhalicious Baby...

When I lived on Zimmer Drive as a child we didn't have the rituals of Halloween they have these days. First there's Zimmerween, a party that falls on the weekend before Halloween, packed with fun for kids (costumes) and adults (wine and beer). We attended this year with our friends Chad and Molly in tow sans costume and sans a dish for the potluck or a bottle of wine. On the Zimmer Drive of yesteryear, this would have been just fine.

A lot has changed about Zimmer Drive in the fifteen years I've been gone. For starters, the house that hosted Zimmerween is a complete remodel of the duplex that used to be across the street. It's now one house (5,400 square feet, I believe) and boasts a pot-filler (a kitchen tool I'd never even heard of before last Saturday), a secret room for their young boy accessible by a swinging bookshelf in the closet, and a morning kitchen in the main bedroom. It's odd to come back to the same old house I grew up in and find I've "moved on up" by virtue of sharing a zipcode with the onslaught of wealthy folks who have moved on in.

But back to Halloween.

In addition to Zimmerween there is a street wide parade at 5:30 that officially kicks off the trick-or-treat hours. At 5:00 I was changing your diaper and commenting on your belly when the idea struck--you were the perfect size and shape to pull of Baby Buddha. So in thirty minutes we whipped together what I think is an absolutely stunning little number complete with real Sandalwood beads and a silk meditation cushion made in Cambodia. I couldn't find a Bodhi tree, so we just had rays of light emanating from your head.

Unfortunately, the costume required some explanation for the Zimmer crowd; you even got called Ms. Muffett sitting on your tuffett.

Alas, the mosquitoes are still biting and the temperature dropped so we didn't make it to the top of the street; even Buddha is susceptible to the elements. So we went back home where you changed into your pumpkin outfit and stood guard over the candy bowl. None of those pirates, ninjas or princesses got more than two pieces of candy on your watch.

Kinfolk

We can report that you've met just about all the relatives (minus some cousins that you'll see at Thanksgivings and other holidays just around the corner). The pictures above are from your initial visits with two of your three great-grandmothers. I think they are sufficiently charmed.

The Sound of Jello Thru a Straw

We woke up at 3am last night to the disturbing racket that was you struggling to breathe through your nose. Little bug, you have come down with your first cold. I can't say it comes a total surprise, you were already getting a little stuffed up before we hit the sheets last night but I was hoping it would be in and out with just a sneeze or two.

To your credit, you've been in a pretty good mood all day, even if you are feeling a little under the weather. To my credit, I've been training you since the day you were born not to fear the nasal aspirator. You've been very patient as your dad and I have stuck the plastic bulb up your nose and extracted stretchy, yellow strings of snot. I've been reciting the punchline to a card I gave your grandfather one year. I have no idea what the outside of the card said, but the inside said, "You may think it's funny, but it's snot." To be sure, no one on this end thinks your snot is funny.

Bruised

I took a good long look at my legs today I was getting ready for yoga--what a horror show.

For the 25th time this week, I ran into the sofa as I was walking out of the living room this morning on my way to get a cup of coffee. Never in my life have I walked into so many standing-still objects. The most offensive bruise, high on my left thigh, is a result of walking into the dresser right after I put you down for a nap.

I never look where I'm going anymore; I'm always looking at you. When I ran into the sofa I was moving forward but smiling at you squirming on the floor. When I nailed the dresser I was watching the soft rise and fall of your chest as you drifted into sleep. I've got my eyes on you, girl. I have the bruises to prove it.

Finding Your Voice

I think I was fully prepared for a loud baby. When we were still living in the condo I was worried that we would drive the nice man that lived downstairs to distraction with all the noise I was sure you would make at all hours of the night and day.

But the last three months have been pretty quiet (with the exception of that last road trip and a few episodes on the changing table). You coo quietly, your fussing is understated and it's only when you're really unhappy that the decibel levels rise.

But over the last three days you've turned into quite the conversationalist. Last Friday your grandmother's friend Barby was finding it hard to get a word in edgewise. We were all a little shocked that you had so much to say. Yesterday, as we toured potential wedding sites for Dana and Eric (my heavens, what fun you had staring at the lights at the Fox Theater) you really seemed to find your voice. The empty ballrooms resonated with your sweet, high, delighted little squeals, gurgles and blasts of vowels. You liked hearing it bounce back at you and the monologue kept me entertained all day long. This morning, pretty early, you picked up where you left off last night.

I love that the world is something you find worthy of exclamation. And as your cries of protest grow louder (they certainly were this morning) I hope your coos of wonder and shouts of joy will also multiply. Your voice is one I will always love hearing, even in the ungodly hours of the morning.

It's Fun to Play at the YMCA

Today, I took my first step toward triathlon training. We marched into the YMCA, the very one where I learned to swim 33 years ago, and started our trial period. To my great delight, your dad's job pays poorly enough that we qualify for membership assistance!

There I was, in my running pants and tank top staring at a weight room for the first time in way, way too long feeling just a little winded by the thought of a structured exercise routine. But what really had me breathing heavy was walking up to the "play room" and dropping you off. For the first time ever I handed you to complete strangers and walked away...for exactly 48 minutes.

You were screaming when I left and I half expected a page to ring out begging me to come retrieve you just about the time I figured out how to work the fancified stair-master. But no, when it was time to come pick you up, you were rocking peacefully in the arms of the very nice play room supervisor. I couldn't believe how good it felt to hold you again, and you didn't seem to mind the sweat and stink.

The brilliant thing about a YMCA membership, even on income assistance, is that they provide 8 hours of free daycare a week. I'm glad you seemed to settle in pretty easily, if I'm going to get ready for a triathlon, we're going to need every minute of that play room time.

PS: The picture on this post is unrelated to your day at the "Y" but it is evidence that you're getting ready for yoga.

New Doctor, New Weight Class

This morning we visited your new Atlanta doctor and we think we'll keep her. We'd been told by the DC doctor to go visit an Atlanta pediatrician at the three month mark to get your head circumference checked since your head grew so fast between your first and second month. We walked in the door this morning and the first thing the doctor said, looking up from her stack of files behind the front desk was, "that baby's head looks just fine to me." That's exactly what we thought.

We spent an hour or so getting to know the new pediatrician and talking about vitamin D supplements. I think if we went to 100 doctors we'd walk away with 100 different things we just "had to do" do prepare you for life. While the DC doc didn't think vitamin D is a big deal, this one is just sure it will keep you from getting cancer one day. So, we'll try the vitamin D drops.

I do have a bit of bad news. You no longer have an A+ in weight...you've slipped into the C+ to B- range. You're now merely in the 75% for weight. But the good news, you've moved up in height!

We've nearly worn out the playback button on the laughing video we posted but we've now discovered a way to get you to laugh almost on-demand. You love the sound of Peanut barking and could watch Bailey dance around your feet all day. As long as the dogs are animated (which usually involves feeding them copious amounts of treats while they spin and dance and bark and roll over) you are giggling. Before long we'll have two morbidly obese dogs but one very happy baby. So your two real loves right now seem to be dogs and baths.

You're in the other room right now jabbering away and making loud sucky noises. We're off on yet another road trip today to the lakehouse where you'll meet your great grandmother Ramke and some assorted aunts, uncles and cousins once-removed. I can't wait to dip your toes in the murky waters of East Tennessee.

SAHM

Yesterday was your first day with a stay-at-home-mom. I'm not sure you noticed the difference. For the first three months of your life I've been pulling in a paycheck, toting you along to the office when I needed to be there for a meeting and getting ready for the big move. You have been with me constantly, albeit sometimes staring at a computer screen for too long or being passed from hand to hand at Sojourners. But today I found myself employed only by you; the pay isn't great but the fringe benefits are pretty good.

We dropped your dad off at work for his first day as a staff attorney at Atlanta Legal Aid, he beat the other attorneys in (a good sign I think) and the three of us walked across the courtyard for coffee while we waited for the office to fill. Then we kissed him goodbye and drove back home to begin our adventure. You slept, read, took a bath (you kicked like an Olympic swimmer), walked around the neighborhood, ate a lot and were carted up and down the stairs in the laundry basket which you seemed to think was fun. Then we picked your dad up from MARTA and came home to celebrate his first day with champagne and a nice dinner at Food 101.

During the day I discussed with you the mixed feelings I have about being a stay-at-home-mom. I can think of no other place I'd rather be than laying with you on the living room floor doing push ups and reading the Squishy Turtle book that you love so much. But it's strange to have gone to work everyday for the past several years imagining that I was preparing for a career and just when it was beginning to fall into place, I left. I was raised to believe that as a girl/woman I could do any job I wanted to do if I worked hard enough. I will raise you to believe the same thing. Does this mean that you should work your way through school, find a job you love and then leave it to raise your daughter to believe she can do anything she wants? I don't know...

What I do know is that to be with you everyday, watching you smile and grunt and learn new things (sometimes it seems by the minute) feels like a tremendous gift. Can I change the world by loving you, teaching you and keeping your bum dry and free from rashes? Who knows? Maybe so.