My husband and I took J to visit friends today and eat Thanksgiving dinner. These are the same friends who hosted us last year, when J was only five weeks old. The food was once again fabulous, the conversation excellent, and this year the icing on the cake was a Pilgrim play (complete with "props") performed by the host and hostess' two children. Fall-down funny.
J did great. Unlike last week, when we had to rapidly leave a birthday party before the guest of honor even opened his gifts, tonight she was all smiles, friendly and playful.
I am determined to figure out the difference. It could have been the raw amount of people (fewer tonight), the noise level (a bit quieter), or the presence of Mom, Dad AND Gram. Regardless, it made for a pleasant and even relaxing evening.
Happy Thanksgiving!
Thursday, November 27, 2008
Wednesday, November 19, 2008
In Which Roo and The New Roo Make Two
Although most readers of this (barely read) blog know this already, Roo II will make his or her much-vaunted appearance on or around May 15, 2009.
I am mildly curious as to how J will react. I say "mildly," because I pretty much KNOW what will go down.
I may sell tickets.
I am mildly curious as to how J will react. I say "mildly," because I pretty much KNOW what will go down.
I may sell tickets.
Tuesday, October 28, 2008
In Which Kanga Makes a List
Having just returned from a six-day trip East with J, I have developed a short list of recommended dos and don'ts based on my minor mishaps and tiny victories along the way. Of course, as always, your mileage may vary.
1. More toys, fewer clothes. Really...FEWER CLOTHES. God has invented these wonderful things called washing machines, and unless you are staying with Dwight Schrute, your hosts have one.
2. Did I mention more toys? And books. Airplanes are boring, boring places, and being strapped in (backwards!) within a car seat would drive anyone to distraction. More. Brand. New. Toys and books.
3. Resist the temptation to fill your child with food to stave off crying jags mid-flight. Although this wasn't a chronic issue on the trip, I did discover to my dismay that J has a nervous stomach when traveling.
4. Prepackaged dried formula in the foil tubes = rock. Easy to pack, easy to prepare. Sold at Babies R Us, and no doubt a number of other fine establishments.
5. Despite the inherent wastefulness of the packaging, consider bottled water for preparing baby's formula when traveling. Though I don't remember it this way as a child, the tap water in Eastern Pennsylvania is downright undrinkable, and I ended up heading to CVS for bottled water to mix up J's meals.
6. Think your baby bucket / carseat doesn't hang easily off the handle of your stroller? I bet it does. (I discovered this two minutes before my final flight. I am sometimes slow on the uptake.)
7. Never underestimate the value other children bring to your baby's happiness when traveling. J really did well when other kids were in the house...they provided a familiar environment, and allowed her to take a break from the constant being-passed-around-by-strange-adults experience.
8. Apologize in advance -- sincerely -- for the havoc your child will wreak on a flight. It endears you to other travelers, and they may even pitch in and make funny faces at the baby during the trip. No one gave me a hard time, not even a dirty look, despite a ten-minute crying episode on one flight and nearly two hours of freakout on another.
9. This may seem obvious. Get down on your hands and knees, just like at home lo these many months ago, and baby-proof the house you are in. If you like, do it room-by-room, so as not to overwhelm yourself (and especially since we found we were mainly in the kitchen and the guest bedroom). It is AMAZING what people have in their homes. I just returned from a stay in a post-Revolution-era farmhouse with (1) a metal typewriter perched on a pedestal; (2) glass jars resting on wooden stools; and (3) best of all, a collection of sharpened farm and garage implements HANGING ON THE WALL.
10. Though others will, with the best of intentions, attempt to pack your schedule with new and interesting activities for baby, again resist the temptation to introduce your child to too many new things when underway. The town's Halloween parade (she would have been dressed as a clown, which was a dealbreaker anyway), the Please Touch Museum (first week reopened, on a rainy Sunday...noooooo), the Philadelphia Art Museum and the Reading Terminal Market were all carefully turned down, in favor of having J spend quality time with her 88-year-old great-aunt and have a play date with two three-year-old friends. My relatives now think I'm an overprotective bore, but I know I did the right thing for my noise-sensitive, easily startled child.
Traveling is hard enough for an adult when things go wrong. Though they may piss you off or even make you cry, you have resources, tools, and the larger understanding of WHY they happen. Children are just victims, whisked along in the experience without explanation or context. Keep that in mind, and it may help you feel a twinge of empathy next time for the kid in 22-F who won't stop screaming.
1. More toys, fewer clothes. Really...FEWER CLOTHES. God has invented these wonderful things called washing machines, and unless you are staying with Dwight Schrute, your hosts have one.
2. Did I mention more toys? And books. Airplanes are boring, boring places, and being strapped in (backwards!) within a car seat would drive anyone to distraction. More. Brand. New. Toys and books.
3. Resist the temptation to fill your child with food to stave off crying jags mid-flight. Although this wasn't a chronic issue on the trip, I did discover to my dismay that J has a nervous stomach when traveling.
4. Prepackaged dried formula in the foil tubes = rock. Easy to pack, easy to prepare. Sold at Babies R Us, and no doubt a number of other fine establishments.
5. Despite the inherent wastefulness of the packaging, consider bottled water for preparing baby's formula when traveling. Though I don't remember it this way as a child, the tap water in Eastern Pennsylvania is downright undrinkable, and I ended up heading to CVS for bottled water to mix up J's meals.
6. Think your baby bucket / carseat doesn't hang easily off the handle of your stroller? I bet it does. (I discovered this two minutes before my final flight. I am sometimes slow on the uptake.)
7. Never underestimate the value other children bring to your baby's happiness when traveling. J really did well when other kids were in the house...they provided a familiar environment, and allowed her to take a break from the constant being-passed-around-by-strange-adults experience.
8. Apologize in advance -- sincerely -- for the havoc your child will wreak on a flight. It endears you to other travelers, and they may even pitch in and make funny faces at the baby during the trip. No one gave me a hard time, not even a dirty look, despite a ten-minute crying episode on one flight and nearly two hours of freakout on another.
9. This may seem obvious. Get down on your hands and knees, just like at home lo these many months ago, and baby-proof the house you are in. If you like, do it room-by-room, so as not to overwhelm yourself (and especially since we found we were mainly in the kitchen and the guest bedroom). It is AMAZING what people have in their homes. I just returned from a stay in a post-Revolution-era farmhouse with (1) a metal typewriter perched on a pedestal; (2) glass jars resting on wooden stools; and (3) best of all, a collection of sharpened farm and garage implements HANGING ON THE WALL.
10. Though others will, with the best of intentions, attempt to pack your schedule with new and interesting activities for baby, again resist the temptation to introduce your child to too many new things when underway. The town's Halloween parade (she would have been dressed as a clown, which was a dealbreaker anyway), the Please Touch Museum (first week reopened, on a rainy Sunday...noooooo), the Philadelphia Art Museum and the Reading Terminal Market were all carefully turned down, in favor of having J spend quality time with her 88-year-old great-aunt and have a play date with two three-year-old friends. My relatives now think I'm an overprotective bore, but I know I did the right thing for my noise-sensitive, easily startled child.
Traveling is hard enough for an adult when things go wrong. Though they may piss you off or even make you cry, you have resources, tools, and the larger understanding of WHY they happen. Children are just victims, whisked along in the experience without explanation or context. Keep that in mind, and it may help you feel a twinge of empathy next time for the kid in 22-F who won't stop screaming.
Wednesday, October 1, 2008
In Which Roo Steps Forward
On Monday afternoon the three of us were literally lying on the carpet on the second floor. Alan was fixing a baby gate and I wasn't. J was pulling at the gate to counteract Dad's efforts.
It was at that moment that J chose to stand up and toddle over to Dad. 1-2-3 steps, and *plop*.
I burst into excited tears, and Alan began whooping and hollering. "Oh wow," we said over and over again.
J, for her part, did not see what the big deal was.
It was at that moment that J chose to stand up and toddle over to Dad. 1-2-3 steps, and *plop*.
I burst into excited tears, and Alan began whooping and hollering. "Oh wow," we said over and over again.
J, for her part, did not see what the big deal was.
Saturday, September 20, 2008
In Which Pooh Realizes Something
Pooh: Kanga?
Kanga: Yes, Pooh.
Pooh (timidly): Don't you think -- I mean, you DO think, of course you think -- uh, let me start over.
Kanga (gently): Yes, Pooh.
Pooh (clearing throat): Don't you feel...well, *I* feel...that home is...
Kanga: Home?
Pooh: Yes, home! Home is...well, home is...best. Don't you agree?
Kanga: Yes, Pooh. I agree. It took a while, but I agree. I think the creatures in the Hundred Acre Wood do, too. Home is best.
(To clarify...we're staying in Portland.)
Kanga: Yes, Pooh.
Pooh (timidly): Don't you think -- I mean, you DO think, of course you think -- uh, let me start over.
Kanga (gently): Yes, Pooh.
Pooh (clearing throat): Don't you feel...well, *I* feel...that home is...
Kanga: Home?
Pooh: Yes, home! Home is...well, home is...best. Don't you agree?
Kanga: Yes, Pooh. I agree. It took a while, but I agree. I think the creatures in the Hundred Acre Wood do, too. Home is best.
(To clarify...we're staying in Portland.)
Tuesday, September 2, 2008
In Which Kanga Has a Day Out
I am issuing a challenge to all mothers of infants and toddlers. Do whatever it takes to get a full day off sometime soon, potentially with intermittent husband presence. We're talking 8:30 - 5:30. Maybe it's a grandparent or spouse sitting, or a one-day nanny, but do it. Here's why...
"Kanga's Best Day Ever...a Comedy in Ten Parts"
8:30 Take J to daycare. The facility's cook gives me a breakfast sandwich just to be nice.
9:00 sit at Starbucks with latte and enormous cinnamon bun. (Oh yeah. I went there.) Buy three books for J.
9:30 Hang out at home to chat and flirt with husband. Remember him?
10:30 90-min massage, followed by spur-of-the-moment eyebrow waxing. Wow! there is skin under the forest.
12:00 shower, then lunch with aforementioned husband at SONIC, where you get to eat in your car and they bring burgers on trays. You eat in your car! Yes, I am lame. I LOVED it. They have tater tots!
1:30 hang three pictures in J's room. Have waited 9+ months to do this simple task, which takes approximately four minutes total.
2:00 order cute T-shirts on friend's recommendation -- get 10% discount! Woot.
Consider reading book, dismiss wacky idea and talk over the Palin controversy with husband instead.
Log on to work mail and discover I have no important mails. Yes.
3:00 depart for the BEST PEDICURE IN TOWN (it lasts an hour...$25). Observe neighboring pedicuree (?) demonstrating to bewildered Vietnamese nail artist the best way to frighten away a grizzly bear.
4:30 Pilates class
5:30 waltz home...unfortunately, to angry baby and stressed husband. But I can handle it. I just had the...
Best. Day. Ever.
Ladies! The gauntlet has been thrown down!
Love,
G
"Kanga's Best Day Ever...a Comedy in Ten Parts"
8:30 Take J to daycare. The facility's cook gives me a breakfast sandwich just to be nice.
9:00 sit at Starbucks with latte and enormous cinnamon bun. (Oh yeah. I went there.) Buy three books for J.
9:30 Hang out at home to chat and flirt with husband. Remember him?
10:30 90-min massage, followed by spur-of-the-moment eyebrow waxing. Wow! there is skin under the forest.
12:00 shower, then lunch with aforementioned husband at SONIC, where you get to eat in your car and they bring burgers on trays. You eat in your car! Yes, I am lame. I LOVED it. They have tater tots!
1:30 hang three pictures in J's room. Have waited 9+ months to do this simple task, which takes approximately four minutes total.
2:00 order cute T-shirts on friend's recommendation -- get 10% discount! Woot.
Consider reading book, dismiss wacky idea and talk over the Palin controversy with husband instead.
Log on to work mail and discover I have no important mails. Yes.
3:00 depart for the BEST PEDICURE IN TOWN (it lasts an hour...$25). Observe neighboring pedicuree (?) demonstrating to bewildered Vietnamese nail artist the best way to frighten away a grizzly bear.
4:30 Pilates class
5:30 waltz home...unfortunately, to angry baby and stressed husband. But I can handle it. I just had the...
Best. Day. Ever.
Ladies! The gauntlet has been thrown down!
Love,
G
Saturday, August 16, 2008
In Which Kanga Reminisces -- and Projects
I took J to the Dartmouth picnic two weeks ago. The Oregon chapter of the Dartmouth Alumni Club holds a picnic every August, usually at a gorgeous beach house in Gearhart. This place is astounding. It was previously connected with the Episcopal Church as a small summer camp, and includes the former church, the main house, a shed, a guest house that is several hundred square feet larger than my "non-guest" house, a glassed-in writer's studio, and separate garage big enough to stage food and equipment for a big party.
Most flabbergasting of all, though, is the baseball field. Yes, field. Between the gardens of the main home and the guest quarters is a full-size regulation field. The house owner just really. loves. baseball.
We arrived at 11 am on the dot, since I'd timed our trip over the coastal range to coincide with J's morning nap. She did well, waking up five minutes after we arrived.
She proceeded to charm everyone there, and literally did not cry, whine or even make a negative sound of any kind -- she didn't even poop -- the entire day.
We took off about 2:30 after a great meal of roast chicken, cowboy caviar (holy crap, look that up. amazing...), a beer and some brownie treats. On the kids' menu...chicken and veggies in a jar, with pureed peaches for dessert.
As we drove again over the mountains and J napped like a champ in the backseat, I thought about how interacting with other Dartmouth grads, of any age, always takes me back there. Even if, as was the case today, we don't even speak of the College except in very general terms, it reminds me of the depth of emotion that this connection holds for me.
And, though of course no one said a word about it, I have to admit that as I drove away from the coast I was figuring out...let's see...class of 2028? 2029?
Most flabbergasting of all, though, is the baseball field. Yes, field. Between the gardens of the main home and the guest quarters is a full-size regulation field. The house owner just really. loves. baseball.
We arrived at 11 am on the dot, since I'd timed our trip over the coastal range to coincide with J's morning nap. She did well, waking up five minutes after we arrived.
She proceeded to charm everyone there, and literally did not cry, whine or even make a negative sound of any kind -- she didn't even poop -- the entire day.
We took off about 2:30 after a great meal of roast chicken, cowboy caviar (holy crap, look that up. amazing...), a beer and some brownie treats. On the kids' menu...chicken and veggies in a jar, with pureed peaches for dessert.
As we drove again over the mountains and J napped like a champ in the backseat, I thought about how interacting with other Dartmouth grads, of any age, always takes me back there. Even if, as was the case today, we don't even speak of the College except in very general terms, it reminds me of the depth of emotion that this connection holds for me.
And, though of course no one said a word about it, I have to admit that as I drove away from the coast I was figuring out...let's see...class of 2028? 2029?
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