the sorting game

remi's really into sorting things these days. on a very basic level. like, she moves all her animals from one side of her to another, one at a time, then back to the original side. this can go on for quite some time (and believe me, i'm pretty thrilled about her ability to self-entertain!).

but i guess what i find really interesting is more about the exclusion. like the other night at grandma's house (we're staying with drake's mom right now), she dumped all her bath toys into the bathtub, and i added this toy that was sitting on the side of the tub. and she got very upset.

"aaahhhnnn! aaaahhhhnnnn!" pointing to the toy, until i figured out the problem and removed the offender from the crowd. the offender then had to be returned to the place it had come from before all was right with the world again.

and i can't quite figure out how the exclusionary system works. in this case, you might think "new and nonfamiliar vs. familiar." but later we were piling animals into her sled to go for a ride around the living room, familiar, nonfamiliar, new, old. and all was harmony until the ape got in. she picked out the ape and tossed him aside. i went to adding animals and tried the ape again.

"aaahhhnnnn! aaaaahhhhnnnnn!" and out he went again. why the ape? who knows. perhaps he'd been a bad ape. perhaps she just didn't like his looks. at any rate, today he's out of the doghouse and into the sled.

Remi and the Baby Dolls

wow. what kind of a pathetic mother am i. here remi is 15 months old, and not only did i post nothing about her birthday party (a pink pirate theme, by the way), but i've posted nothing at all for the start of her second year. jeesh.

but she is a font of fascinating development. currently she's way into dancing to toddler tunes and chasing the dog around with her baby stroller. she runs after him and just laughs and laughs. thank god the dog is good for something more than just cleaning up after toddler eating.

beyond being used as a torture device for the dog, she just loves dolls, which i find kind of interesting. she cuddles the dolls, feeds them, bathes them, and, on one occasion, even attempted breastfeeding. i guess, really, it's just all about imitation, and childcare is something she sees a lot of right now.

First Teeth

There have been a lot of firsts for Remi recently.

First it was the teeth. Then, one day, she slipped and hit her chin. Those teeth hit her tongue and voila! Remi discovered she had a tongue. For days she went around experimenting with her tongue. Before discovering her tongue she discovered her head, which she occasionally holds with both hands. Does she think it will fly off? Perhaps. It's hard to say.
She can go up stairs now. The first time that happened, I was working in the front yard, and off she crawls to the stairs. I redirected her a couple of times, and then I just let her go. That first day she climbed to the top of the steps three times before she pooped out. Now she'll climb the stairs any chance she gets: We're no longer allowed to carry her up to the front door -- she practically flies out my arms whenever we approach.

And she's discovered doors. That they open and close. Over and over. And that she can stand on one side of the french doors and look in at us. And make faces. And smash her face against the glass. And then she just giggles and giggles and giggles...

The Sacred Coffee Hour

Before we had Remi, Drake and I used to sit in bed for the Sacred Coffee Hour. We sipped the sacred beverage, read the paper, and shared tidbits of news. We made lists and planned our day. And oftentimes, we crawled back under the covers and went back to sleep.

Such decadence is no more.

Now we're lucky if we sleep till 6:30. We wake to a bouncing baby, a girl on the go. She grabs for coffee, steals the paper, and crawls for the edge of the bed. Protecting yourself, your elixir, your reading material, and the baby takes fast hands and a quick eye: The Sacred Coffee Hour has become a precision sport.

But we hold out hope.

Someday, calm will be restored. Hot coffee will be safe again, the news will be read and absorbed, our ninja reflexes will be tucked away, unused. If only we could instill into a 9 month old the glory of the sacred hour.

Remi Eats Manhattan

I never thought I would raise a carnivore. In the baby food section I buy a wide variety of jarred fruits and vegetables, but NONE of the meats. And all was fine. Until Remi got hold of a chicken bone.

She loved it. In all fairness, though, she loves all food. At times, it really is kind of like a Godzilla movie in which the protagonist -- in this case a giant baby in diapers -- lumbers through the streets of New York putting anything and everything into her mouth. To date, she has attempted to eat

• the letter Q
  the number 7
• our wine saver wine stoppers
• wood chips
• corn cobs (sans the corn)
  

and pretty much anything she can get hold of. A list of her more conventional diet at her current age of 9 months includes

• peas
• carrots
• squash
• hummus
• guac (and any form in which avocado comes)
• potatoes
• yams
• mashed fruit (apples, blueberries, pears, mango, apricot, bananas)
• Annie's organic bunny crackers
• cheese (cream cheese, cheese sticks, monterey jack cubes)
• cottage cheese and yogurt

And most recently we have discovered that she loves steamed artichoke hearts.

Keep in mind that the child still has no teeth. They are coming in now and making our lives h--l. It feels like these teeth will never make it through, but when they finally do... look out, Manhattan!

The Big "D"

Awhile back, Remi-roo took a trip to Disneyland. That girl keeps me running, and it's taken some time for me to post about the trip, but better late than never.

Now, you'd think a 7 month old (at that time) wouldn't have much use for a trip to Disneyland. And that's where you'd be wrong. Who knew she'd be so thrilled? First, it was a big family trip, and Remi LOVES to see her cousins. So that was exciting enough. But it got better.

When we got to the park she just stared and stared at all the color and activity. It really is a child's wonderland. First, we took her on Pirates of the Carribean. We'd been singing the song to her for a month, trying to get her excited. She was fine on the ride, but I can't say it did a lot for her (though the adults loved it). Then it was on to the Haunted House. Again, not too exciting for her. It wasn't until we got to It's A Small World that we saw how excited she could be by a ride. She and Emlyn both were just in absolute awe. It was a wonder to behold.

We took her on the Pooh ride, which she liked, and the Carousel. But nothing compared to the Small World. I have a feeling that song is to be embedded into my future trips to Disneyland for many a years to come.

Water Baby

Remi's had a lot of experience with the water lately. First swim class, and yesterday... her first trip on a boat! She thought it was great (and so did we).

First, swim class. She's been twice now, and has decided she loves it. What's not to love? A giant bathtub (it's the Berkeley warm pool, heated to 92 degrees) filled with other babies and, at the end, a million zillion bath toys! Of course, there are the songs, too--designed for the repetition that babies love and that parents can never get out of their heads.

Then yesterday, out at Debbie and Tamara's for dinner, we took a boat ride around Discovery Bay. When Remi got tired of looking at the scenery, there was a lot of exploring to be done on the floor of the boat. And then there was her pint-sized companion, Rocco the dog. Just the right size for a baby.

All in all, a pretty great expansion on her already solid love of bath water.

(Photos: Pictured at the Berkeley Warm Pool on Chris' shoulders; Pictured on the boat with Tamara; Rocco the dog)

Baby on the Go

Okay, it's not really crawling yet. More like rolling with some backwards action. But man, can she get around. That is, until she needs to go forward. Then it's "Waa, waa! Hey, Mama, come get me out of this corner I've backed myself into." And, being the responsible servant that I am, I naturally oblige.

So baby proofing is in our future. Next time we have a free moment or two.

My Little Pickle

Before Remi was born, Patty dubbed her "Picklita." (As in, pickle-ita -- I've never been sure how to spell it.) Little Pickle. Well, this week, Remi earned her nickname.

We were out to lunch. Now, eating in a restaurant is something I rarely do with Remi anymore because she's so, well, baby like. She has a short attention span, grabs everything in sight, gets frustrated, starts screaming, has to be walked around... you get the picture. But it was the Mom's Group lunch so I went, and to keep Remi occupied I gave her my pickle spear. Who knew she would turn out to love it? So pickles have now become a part of her ever expanding menu. So far avocado and pickles top the list, with ripe pears coming in a close third.

None of these foods particularly interests Petey, but he holds vigil nonetheless, hoping to cop a lick of rice cereal or, better yet, a teething biscuit. These we have dubbed "Petey treats" due to the frequency and joy with which he eats them. In exchange for these treats he is always happy to provide a little hand and face wash post meal. It's just one of those services he provides.

Remi Eats Dirt

Remi has discovered dirt. It's messy. She can claw it and make little holes. In short, it's really fun. Unfortunately, the fun doesn't stop there. After she claws it all up there is, of course, the mouth. Everything to the mouth.

So when she discovered dirt, I let her play in it. I kept an eye on her, knowing the mouth part would come to fruition, but I let her explore until those little hands started their migration up. Then the fun was over. Of course the hands made contact before I did.

So then I had to swipe the dirt out of her mouth. And it turns out, the dirt wouldn't come off with a cloth, so then I had to get a bath ready, all the while trying to keep her dirty hands out of her mouth. And then I saw that she had dirt in her eye, so I had to get that out. And then I had to drain the bath and wash her again in clean water, because there was so much dirt. And I had to scrub her finger nails.

In short, I made a lot of work for myself. But I can't say I regret it. She had fun. No harm done. Her next plan is to conquer sand.

Baby Business

Everybody needs a job. I've gone back to work, Drake went back to work long ago, even Petey has a job ("Cleanup, aisle 3, kitchen spill"). And then there's the baby.

We let her freeload for a while. You know, just to get her feet wet and figure out this world outside the womb. But hey, she's 5 months old now -- you don't get a free ride forever, kid. We had to use tough love. Now, every day, we send her to The Office.

Oh, she was resistant at first. I mean, she's had it pretty good -- gets carried wherever she wants to go, fed on demand, washed without lifting a finger. It was a sweet ride. But once she tried The Office she was hooked.

It's all Baby Business, all the time.

Remi Finds Her Feet

It's hard to believe she's 5 months old already, and discovering her lower extremities! Yay for Remi!

Off to Work I Go

Drake is not happy about me going back to work. For that matter, neither is Remi. And can you blame her? I'm most of what her short little life has been about. Until now.

So off I go at 11 pm, confident that Drake and Remi will sort things out. And then 9 hours later in I walk, "Hello! How're things!"

"There's no time to chat," Drake replies urgently. "Take the baby."

The room is a disaster. Diapers and changing pads strewn about the floor, comforter and sheets in a tangled mess. A near empty bottle peeks out from beneath a pillow, and Drake's hair stands out from her head on all sides. My mouth falls open, Drake is at wits' end, and the baby, well... she has no pants, and a big grin on her face.

It would appear that Drake was more traumatized by my absence than Remi was.

Of course, I eventually got the whole story. How Remi had no patience for the time it took to heat a bottle. How she took one look at the bottle and let out a scream of refusal. How she was still hungry after the first bottle, so Drake quickly put together a 2nd one out of the fridge, didn't even take the time to heat it, but apparently didn't screw the lid on all the way, either, thereby causing cold milk to pour all over the Poobah. So then she had a cold, wet, hungry, screaming baby who needed an outfit change.

And of course there's a part of me that thinks the whole thing is pretty funny. Though I know it wasn't at all funny at 2 am.

P.S. There is no way I am allowed to publish a picture of Drake and her hair, so this post shall remain photo-less.

Baby's 1st Christmas

It's Christmas morning. Baby's 1st Christmas. The cameras are at the ready, the Flip recorder is rolling. And The Poobah... slept.

And slept.

And slept.

We opened the gifts without her. Ostensibly because Emlyn is only 4 and couldn't wait. But at least in part, too, because we are practical adults who realize that it's much easier to get down to business when there's not a baby in your lap. A baby who, let's face it, doesn't much care at this age about the whole celebration.

So we had our coffee in peace, and oohed and ahed over Remi's gifts on her behalf. And later, we took her out to see Christmas lights, which were, after all, far more her speed. She thought they were pretty fascinating. She also thought Emlyn was pretty fascinating: someone closer to her size, who acted silly and did a chicken dance and fell to the floor repeatedly. Behaviour worthy of quite a few giggles -- the sight and sound of which was probably the best gift of all.