Christmas Eve Part II

I’m a bit sad: my chocolate chip cookies have gone all flat. I must’ve overworked the butter and sugar. Oh well. The rugelach turned out stunning. And the tree’s up, although SOMEONE is more interested in the camera:

"Hey, is that the box that goes fla-- oh, it is."

She likes the tree. Has no idea what it’s about, naturally, so our (my) Christmas Eve excitement is a little premature. I am pleased we have snow on the ground for her first Christmas, even if she’ll never remember it.

There are a few presents for her, some very nice basic wooden toys, and then I’ve wrapped an empty box or two for her to tear to bits. She likes that: crinkly paper, shiny things. In fact, she is more of a hazard to the Christmas tree than either of the cats: the lights make it a magnet. She crawled halfway across the room towards it, then lay on the carpet panting, just short of grabbing the lowest-lying ornaments. She’s starting to become more mobile. Another night or two sleeping on it, and I think she’ll have it down. We’ll be in trouble.

The cats, meanwhile, both had a sniff around the tree. Quinn decided to ignore it. Zeno lay down underneath it and began another endless round of grooming himself.

A few more things to do in the kitchen, and then I can sleep.

Merry Christmas Eve,

Rose

Ducky Towel, You’re The One

So Kate visited while we were in America. Drove crazy hours from Massachusetts to see us. We spent a girly day out shopping and getting our pedicures done. Kate carried Eve to see Santa. Eve didn’t cry, thought Santa’s beard was amusing. Kate cried later, when 20 lbs of cute made her arms seize up.

However, she still bought us a present. The duck towel.

Baths have increased by 50% in this household since the duck towel arrived. It is swell. I mean, baths were fun to begin with…

"Do you mind? I'm busy splashing things."

But then there is THIS waiting when it’s all over:

Getting dry: 78% more fun with DuckTowel!

It is enough to make you sing along with Ernie:

With slightly different lyrics, of course. Thanks Kate.

It’s Christmas Eve!

Sorry, I know: lock me up in the Punitentiary. But she’s going to get a lot of that at school, so I should prepare her, right?

This week has been one of rapid developments: Bean has learned to clap her hands, can crawl a short way (although she screams the entire time) and we’ve got one of those teeth ready to break through at last. The top and bottom front teeth started to bud big time while we were in America, and then things settled down for a little while (she did scream for the entire first hour of our flight home, however– everyone around us was very nice, and did not have us killed). I don’t have pictures of Mr. Poky the Tooth yet. The kid likes to stick her tongue out when you point a camera at her.

No Christmassy pictures yet: as per my family’s practice throughout my childhood, we’ll be putting up the tree later this morning and taking it down on 6 January. (Twelve days of Christmas, you know). I do have some pictures saved up from our trip and from my phone that I’ve not yet shown off here.

Plus: snow! Bean finds it cold and confusing. It gets a lot of flaps and alarmed “HEH!”s and finally she puts a hand in it and hollers at me: “WHAT IS THIS? WHY IS IT SO COLD? MUMMY!”

Photos!

The ladies and their niece

HEH!

"Wait, should I try that again?"

"Okay... HEH!!!!"

Oh boy, a car ride with Grandma M!

Our first dusting of snow.

Your Mother Dresses You Funny

The orange hat and the sweater don’t really match with the main outfit, do they? At least the main ensemble goes with Grandpa M’s swing.

Yes, we’re home. Yes, I got lotsa work to do. More soon as more photos (like the above, from Aunt Joan), continue rolling in.

Here We Come

I’ve been chained to my desk this week, trying to cram a full month of work into three weeks. I was up until four last night and at the desk until two today, trying to keep control of my pre-frontal cortex long enough to bash out some coherent ad copy for a client.

And what are we doing now?

 

Surprise!

We’re packing. We’re getting off the Island for ten days to see folks in America and eat John Goodman’s bodyweight in high-fructose corn syrup, along with playing some football and celebrating Aunt Joan’s birthday around a bonfire. We look forward to letting other people pet/dandle/feed/change the Bean.

Provided, of course, that we don’t get thrown off the airplane somewhere over Greenland due to Bean’s amazingly shrill squeals.

You can find a lot of hostility towards children and parents who take public transport out there on the Internet– I don’t just mean hostility towards obviously undisciplined children, but a kind of free-form hatred of people who bring their kids out in public at all. Guess what? Going out in public is how kids learn to be in public. And kids have to travel sometimes. Now and then they cry or make noises, and if they’re infants, they’ll cry for as long as they need to.

I guess I should point out that I’ve been having nightmares (literally, waking up at night) about a mid-Atlantic meltdown. She’s downstairs squealing her head off right now. It sounds like the end of the world, but I know for a fact that she’s sitting on her playmat, waving a toy or her hairbrush (same thing at that age, I guess). She’s happy. She’s just making noise.

We’ll try to keep her quietly distracted on that eight-hour flight tomorrow. But I’m also packing 10 pairs of earplugs and enough cash to buy a drink for anyone in our immediate vicinity should the Bean kick off.

I really can’t wait to land in New Jersey. Ugh.

 

The Art and Science of Naming Stuffed Animals

They’re multiplying.

By dinner time, you can find them all over the living room: lying slack on the sofa, casually tossed in the middle of the carpet, perched on a windowsill.  They are pink or yellow, brown and green. They have cute little button eyes and floppity ears and (in one case) tusks. They are Bean’s stuffed menagerie. They surround us.

Naturally, when you share your environment with a creature– even one made of cotton and polyester, you ought to give it a name.  But what do you name it?

 

"Juliet"

Here are a few ideas for naming your stuffed animals.

1. Don’t go for the obvious. “Fluffy” for a cat. A bear named Teddy. These are sweet, but obvious names. Pick something you wouldn’t expect.

2. Don’t try too hard. Nice ordinary names work just fine, as with our tusky, somewhat blurry ladyfriend in the picture above: Juliet, the Woolly Mammoth. “Tuskarella”, “Mammuthus Primigenius”: these are a bit OTT.

3. Honorifics can work. Throw a “Doctor” or a “Sergeant” on the front of an otherwise ordinary name. It makes a silly toy seem even sillier because it’s trying to be serious, e.g.:

 

"Captain Nibbles"

(These really are terrible photos, sorry). It is possible to go overboard with the titles, though, so the next rule…

4. Keep it short. … needs to be taken into account. You don’t want it getting to the point where your stuffed animal collection sounds like a pedigree dog breeder’s registry or a race horse call sheet.  So no “Snuggle’s Multi-Pawed Delight Bucket”.

5. Be careful about namesakes. Some people don’t like it when you name a family pet or even a stuffed animal after them. It’s possible to buy stuffed spiders and rats at Ikea; resist the urge to buy one and name it after, say, a particularly unpleasant in-law. Especially if he or she will be around for Christmas dinner.

 

Tim, the Diplodocus

Ignore these rules if: The toy in question has been inherited (“Big Ted”, a 40-year-old bear who lives with us, will always be “Big Ted”). And once the kid starts talking, she gets to pick the names herself. Even if she names the toy rat “Mummy” and the duck “Pond James Pond 007″.

 

Bean and "Ned"

 

 

 

 

 

 

This Month in Bean: It’s All Happening Fast

 

"Let me explain it to you."

So Bean’s eight months old now. We took her for her 8-month check-up last week (before she was officially eight months, but whatever), and were told that everything is going according to schedule except for those legs of hers, on which she can already stand up with support and will “walk” if you hold her hands. Earlier this evening she even maintained her balance without support for a few seconds. She is also starting to pull herself up to sitting and kneeling. This is a kid who wants to go places.

 

"Oh hey. I was just about to eat my socks. Want some?"

Today she started to wave “Hello!” at people (also cats) without prompting and with little hesitation, so it’s time to bust out the Baby Signs. We have been using “cat” and “milk” since she was about four months old, but not very consistently.  We know that she is already frustrated by not being able to explain herself, so adding the odd sign here and there should help her tell us what’s going on in that pretty head of hers.

Her babbling is starting to become more expressive, and she does say “Da Da!” when Trev saunters into the room, or leaves it. Unfortunately, she also says it when she sees me. This is most likely because “Ma” is a bit tough for her to say at the moment. We sit her on our laps and say “Mama, Mama, Ma-ma,” very clearly. She squints at us– knows something is being communicated, and tries again: “Dada.”

 

It's that tongue again.

Never mind. Soon enough I will be answering to high-pitched squeals of “MUUUUUUUUUUUM!” so I’m in no rush.

 

It’s All Part of My Autumn Almanac

Here’s one I’ve had fun belting out to the Bean recently:

And she enjoys flapping along to it with vigor. For your delectation, here are some photos and video from the last few days.  First, Raspberry War:

Next, some snaps from the garden as it winds down:

7' tall with a seed-head as big as my own

I’m not proud of my work (more accurately, my neglect) in the garden this year. But this sunflower was pretty kick-butt. Too bad my photos of it in its full glory were all out of focus.

Peonies are pretty even in October

Note to self: buy a better camera. These peony plants look marvelous in person.  However, this little bloom never fails to please:

Little budling.

It’s kind of amazing how pretty she is.

"La la la.." she said.

I hope she gets to keep those terrific eyelashes. I think she got them from Trev, and his are still pretty fantastic.

It's you!

Yep. October is pretty swell so far.

Llantwit Major and the Heritage Coast

We’ve already had the Harvest Moon this month, and weather on the island continues to be glorious. On Saturday we took advantage of the sunshine and drove way down to the southern edge of Wales halfway between Cardiff and Swansea. We took a hike along the coast in the romantically-named Vale of Glamorgan. If you were looking for new desktop wallpaper, I think we can oblige you. Click through to see more:

This Deal With The Tongue

Check out this series of photos. What do you notice? The tongue, of course. She’s always sticking it out.

Mmmm, metallic.

Mmmm, windy.

Mmmm, beady.

Mmmm, photo-y.

I don’t get it. Is she part snake? Do babies have some super-sensory receptors that we adults lose as we age, which allow them to “smell” the air and detect predators and gauge the relative humidity and all that? Or is she auditioning for a teeny tiny Kiss tribute act? BECAUSE WE WILL HAVE NO GLAM ROCKERS IN THIS HOUSE, YOUNG LADY. I MEAN IT!

Oooh, I’m gonna be good at that.