First Kiss
parenting
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The Girl, Updated
Maja commented about preferring pictures of L to pictures of a very blue 55-gallon drum. (I didn’t provide a translation, but trust me, that’s what she said. To which K replied, “I just hope we won’t become known in the neighborhood as ‘those people with the blue barrel’.”) And then Nana and Papa mentioned the lack of Girl pictures of late.
How did this happen? Are we not doting anymore?
Well, we have been taking pictures. I just haven’t been posting them.
How about a video instead?
New Evening Ritual
8:00
We start cleaning up all the toys the Girl has managed to drag out. And believe me — in the space of about 3 nanoseconds, L can pull out every single toy in every single toy basket and toy box in a given room.
8:15
Bath time. L loves the bath. She doesn’t love getting ready for the bath. She gets testy, cranky, and whiny. But before we can take a bath, we have to potty. This could be optimized, but we’ll return to this later.
8:30
Bath’s done, dressing begins. This can take anywhere from twenty seconds to five minutes. Like most things, it depends on how cooperative the Girl is. She’s able to put her arm out in anticipation of having the sleeve of her sleeper slipped on. (How’s that for alliteration?)
8:35
Bedtime, with watered down juice and some kisses.
9:00
The girl wakes up crying. She stands up, flings the bottle to the floor, and begins howling. Time for Potty II.
9:10
Having had an enormous BM, the Girl is ready for sleep. At this point, the obvious hits: “L, why don’t you do your business before the bath, when I set you on the potty chair and wait in full anticipation?”
“Because that would make your life too simple, Tata,” is the probable answer.
9:15-10:00
Intermittent crying as the Girl tries to calm herself back down and fall back asleep.
Development
All of L’s linguistic development is in Polish currently. But that’s an entirely different post…
L is understanding more and more spoken language every day. She brings things to us; she takes things from one person to another; she puts things back; she gives hugs — all when asked.
She also recognizes people in pictures.
“Pokaz Papa,” I say.
“Pokaz Nana,” I ask.
Dziadek, Mama, Tata, L, Babcia, Papa, Nana — each and everyone she recognizes. (Babcia is in a different picture, though.)
Quick Development
During the last few days this evening, L’s begun doing several new things.
- While cleaning up, L chipped in. She picked up blocks, brought them to the box, and dropped them in — on request.
- L loves yogurt. Today, she reached out for the spoon while K was feeding her. With a little help and about five or six practice runs, L was more or less daubing yogurt on her spoon and then smearing it in the vicinity of her mouth.
- K bought L a little toy cell phone this afternoon. Say “Halo, halo” (you can probably figure out the translation) and L puts it up to her ear.
Her understanding of communication is simply exploding.
Happy Birthday!
The Girl is one year old today.
Such a change 365 days can make:
Almost triple what she weighed when she was born, and double the length. She’s walking, playing hide-and-seek with me, understanding “No” (imperfectly, but it’s a start), showing “zaba” and “kaczka” in her picture books when asked (“frog” and “duck” respectively), holding out her arms when being dressed — all within a year.
Enjoy the progress, L, because you’ll never grow — mentally and physically — so much in one year again.
No!
Power outlets, books, and CDs are the only things we really say “No!” to with the girl. Oh, and plants and hot things and climbing on the stairs and so on. And the cat, when we had a cat. (He ran away some weeks ago. Some say he’s supposed to come back any day now.)
Still, it’s the forbidden that’s attractive.
(I’m sure it didn’t help to send mixed messages by saying “No!” and taking the picture. But I just happened to have the camera and couldn’t resist.)
Fortunately, there are plenty of things in the house to hold her attention.
Signs of Development
We’ve been working to teach L baby signs for months now. The books we read on the topic said the optimum age is usually around nine months, but we began from birth. Call us eager beavers or hopelessly optimistic about our daughter’s budding genius.
In the last few weeks, though, she’s really been picking up on the fact that we’re trying to communicate with her. The other evening, when L was reaching for her sippy cup, I sat down beside her and showed her the sign we’ve been using for “drink” — the motion of turning a cup toward your mouth, with thumb extended. She was fussy and whiny, but when she saw me point to the cup and then make the sign, saying “Drink,” she calmed down and seemed really to pay attention. I made the sign again, still pointing to the cup. She looked at me, looked up at the cup, then looked back at me. I balled up her little fist and helped her make the sign. In the past, when I’ve tried this, I got fierce resistance. This time, she relaxed and let me show her what to do. I made the sign again, then gave her the cup. The whole time, no tears, no whining, no fussing. I could almost see the thoughts bouncing around. “He’s trying to tell me something…”
Communication
I was in the living room, working on a contract writing project that’s been plaguing (and entertaining, not to mention paying) me for many months longer that it should have. K and the Girl were in the kitchen.
“Go tell Dad it’s time for splish-splash,” K said to the Girl (po polsku, of course).
I heard the pat-pat-pat of L’s feet (Have I mention L’s walking now, and has been for about a month and a half?) as she came into the living room. She looked at me, smiled, and flapped her arms in the air, splashing at the imaginary water — the sign we’ve been using for “bath.” She began giggling as she signed.
I don’t think I’ve felt that awed in all my life.
Nana with the Girl
Last weekend.
Vignettes
Every night around eight-fifteen, eight-thirty, I take the Girl for her bath. “Bath” is one of the few baby signs we use consistently, and last night, she provided humorous evidence that she truly understands the sign. I came out of the bathroom after preparing her bath and she was looking at one of her favorite books while sitting at the bottom of the six stairs that separates the upper and lower portions of our split-level home. “L,” I called. She looked up, and I began making the waving my arms as if splashing the water. “Halapu ciapu!” I called out, Polish for “splish-splash.” She tossed the book aside, pulled herself on her feet quickly, held out her arms, and smiled hugely.
Every morning around three, the Girl wakes up hungry and wet. I stumble into her room to change her diaper; K heads downstairs to prepare a bottle; the Girl usually just cries. Lately, though, she’s been increasingly calm as I begin the process, and last night, she remained calm throughout the whole change. She would start to get fussy but I managed to calm her with some reassuring words in my sleepy, calm voice and a gentle stroke of her cheek. She didn’t break into hysterics even when K entered.
Feeding the Girl
First Wound
Bumps, scrapes, and scratches — part of growing up. We tell ourselves, “It’s going to happen. She’s going to hit her head hard and a knot will rise on the spot, or she’ll slip and skin her knee,” and we think we’re prepared.
Yet when it actually happens, it’s something entirely different. For the first second.
In the grass field where everyone parks before catching the bus up to the chimney part of Chimney Rock Park, L was walking, then running, then falling and — it all flashed before everyone’s eyes — stumbling, falling, and planting her face squarely on a patch of dusty ground.
The results were predictable: instant hysterics, jerky motions, and panic — and that was mom. L was in a state of screaming that we’ve never heard.
“Water! Water! Put some water on that rag and give it to me! Quickly!” In Polish, from a panicked mother.
The tears passed quickly enough, but the consequences will hang around for a few days:
Once the girl stopped crying and everyone calmed down, K said, “Don’t worry, L. It’s just your first scraped nose.” Dziadek and I added, almost simultaneously, “And it won’t be your last.”
On the Naming of Yet-Unnamed
T. S. Eliot was spot on:
The Naming of Cats is a difficult matter,
It isn’t just one of your holiday games;
It wasn’t much help considering the next part of the stanza:
You may think at first I’m as mad as a hatter
When I tell you, a cat must have three different names.
We had a difficult time coming up with one name for the cat we rescued from the shelter. A white and gray three-year-old, he’s playful but maturing.
I consulted Eliot:
First of all, there’s the name that the family use daily,
Such as Peter, Augustus, Alonzo or James,
Such as Victor or Jonathan, or George or Bill Bailey –
All of them sensible everyday names.
There are fancier names if you think they sound sweeter,
Some for the gentlemen, some for the dames:
Such as Plato, Admetus, Electra, Demeter –
But all of them sensible everyday names.
None of those names pleased us, though “Bill Bailey” would have been appropriate, I though. I went to a site that’s supposedly specifically for the Naming of Cats. I randomly chose “M” and here’s what I got:
- M & M
- Mabel
- Mac, Mack
- Macaroni
- Macaulay
- Macbeth
- MacGyver
I closed my browser with a sigh, realizing we’d be going it alone.
While we could just throw any old name on a dog and it would stick, we knew we couldn’t just go with any old name for a cat:
But I tell you, a cat needs a name that’s particular,
A name that’s peculiar, and more dignified,
Else how can he keep up his tail perpendicular,
Or spread out his whiskers, or cherish his pride?
Of names of this kind, I can give you a quorum,
Such as Munkustrap, Quaxo, or Coricopat,
Such as Bombalurina, or else Jellylorum –
Names that never belong to more than one cat.
And being a household with Polish roots, we wanted something that worked in both cultures.
If only we could have asked the cat:
But above and beyond there’s still one name left over,
And that is the name that you never will guess;
The name that no human research can discover –
But THE CAT HIMSELF KNOWS, and will never confess.
When you notice a cat in profound meditation,
The reason, I tell you, is always the same:
His mind is engaged in a rapt contemplation
Of the thought, of the thought, of the thought of his name:
His ineffable effable
Effanineffable
Deep and inscrutable singular Name.
We finally decided on “Basza,” pronounced “Basha.” But there’s a twist. A caveat, so to speak. The sh sound is not what we normally use in English, which is more like “Basia” in Polish, a diminutive of “Barbara.”
The average American ear probably can’t hear the not-so-subtle difference between the Polish sz and si. Both of them in English would be most closely approximated by sh, but that is only how the si sounds. The sz is much harder than our sh, deeper in the throat, with the tongue farther back in the mouth than si (e.g., our sh). I know it took me a long time to get the difference, and longer to get to where I could pronounce the difference. And still, I generally get lazy and pronounce all my sz‘s and si‘s like sh, even though I know better.
Still, Basza won’t be going to school, so we don’t have to worry about teachers and other kids mispronouncing his name, as we will with L. And visitors will only be corrected once.
3/4 of a Year
L turned nine months today. We spent a few moments watching videos of when she was learning to sit and learning to crawl; now, she moves rather quickly, not to mention enjoying things that were impossible a few months ago:
We spent the afternoon wandering around Cleveland Park, and as sometimes happens, I’m in some of the pictures.
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More pictures are at our Flickr account.
Mowgli
The girl has been crawling for some time now, but since we’ve moved to our new house with hardwood floors throughout, she’s adapted her crawl so it’s less painful.
Nodding Off
It surely started earlier, but the first time I noticed my tendency to nod off was in high school. It was usually during first period, and that morning after friends and I had traveled to Blacksburg to see the Indigo Girls, it was almost impossible to fight. During church it was tough sometimes as well. It didn’t help that some sermons went for 90 or more minutes…
College wasn’t much better, but at least I finally began creating a nodding-off rhythm for myself. Around four every afternoon, it became unreasonable to do anything other than sleep. Nap, I called it, but it was really much deeper than that.
The triggers were more varied than the time of day, though. Reading often sent me into spasms of yawning, which is particularly problematic for an English major.
These days, it strikes in the early evening. This too can be problematic, for I have evening duty with the Girl, and it’s during that time that she’s particularly needy and wants a lap and snuggles: if we’re sitting in a chair, I’m always a little worried that she might somehow tumble out of my arms and bounce on her head a time or two.
The other evening, as I was nodding off, the Girl on my lap and snuggled into the crook of my arm, I noticed she’d suddenly become very calm as she was looking at her book. I looked over to see her eyes slowly closing, her head drifting forward until a sudden jerk brought her head back up and opened her eyes.
What a thing to inherit.
The Girl in the Mirror
She’s there every single time L and I head to the bathroom for L’s evening bath. It always takes her a few minutes to notice us, and when she does, she seems just as confused as we are. But then the Girl in the Mirror smiles a little, and somehow L manages to smile at that exact moment, and then it’s laughs and giggles all around.
Crawling
New video with L learning to crawl — rather, already knowing. Didn’t catch enough in the act of learning…