Summertime Blue

It's blueberry season here. Although I remember pulling blueberries off of bushes while walking in the woods as a child, I have no memory of deliberately going blueberry picking. In place of that memory, is the book Blueberries for Sal. Perhaps I never needed to go blueberry picking- Sal and Little Bear went for me.

We took the kids blueberry picking a few miles from home. These are not wild blueberries, mind you, but rows of bushes at a local apple orchard, grown under nets to protect them from the birds. You enter through a corner, getting tangled like Peter Rabbit in Mr. MacGregor's garden.

Noodle was thrilled. At first she kept squawking for more, but when she got heavy, we set her down on the ground and the real fun began. She realized that she could get to the berries directly and happily plunged into the picking, popping green and blue berries into her mouth indiscriminately. Mushed from the ground? She doesn't mind. I gave up any notion that I can control her at all.

I asked Q if he remembers Blueberries for Sal. No response. Ah, well.

Unlike Sal, we did not have pails to drop our blueberries in, "Kerplink, Kerplank, Kerplunk." We had a large flat box. It was simplest to leave it in one location and bring a handful at a time. Q took over some of the relay action, a good chore for a child who has trouble differentiating between ripe and unripe until the berry is in his hand. Noodle spotted the motherlode, and dove in. The rest of the the trip was spent juggling the box and Noodle, if one was on the ground, the other one must not be.

The July afternoon sun baked us as we picked. We decided we've had enough after an hour of late afternoon sun. I offered Noodle a final blueberry. She was so tired she can barely open her mouth.

When we arrived home, Q asked in a small voice, as he climbed out of the car, "Mommy? Are we going to can our berries for the winter?"

Moments in July

Noodle has a new word, brought out by Local Grandma. After we sing Happy Birthday, Noodle will follow it with a soft breathy, "Happyhappyhappy."

While I was busy singing to her over dinner last night, Q excused himself to use the potty. Where he fell asleep, head forward to rest on a step stool in front of him. Sadly, I wasn't able to transition him into his bed from there...

And then there were two...

We've had a busy week with a visit from cousin C from FL and his daddy. In the midst of the visit, we decided it was a good idea to finally move Noodle's crib into Q's room. This is having some mixed results. On the down side, we cannot seem to get either kid into bed and asleep without waking the other one. On the up side, Q has been a little shining star of a big brother. He sings and talks to Noodle to calm her down. He may have gotten protective of his toys during the day time, but at night, he's delighted to share his room. As I type this, he's bellowing, "I've been working on the rail road! All the live long day!" To be honest, I'm not sure how either of them ever falls asleep.

Noodle seems thrilled to have company at night, although she flips out if she sees me putting Q to bed. Just now, when Q left to get a drink of water, she got very upset. The night he went potty twice was a little traumatic. And then I must also remember that she's taken to pooping after she's put to bed each night. The transition has bumped bedtime from 6:30 to 7:30, or sometimes 8:30...

There's a lot more walking going on for Noodle and she can now say several more words: house, horse (they sound the same and she might not say them spontaneously, but in context it's very exciting), Mama and a cat's meowing sound that is remarkably similar to Raleigh's meow (our large brown cat) although I would not have recognized it if she hadn't mewed back at him one morning.

She can also climb a step stool, I discovered this afternoon...

Summer Vacation

With the start of summer vacation, I have finally figured out that I am not repeatedly getting sick. Or rather, not getting sick with a gastro-intestinal bug as was initially speculated by the ER back in May. No, you go a couple of weeks, and have the same issue (less severe) and then repeat that the next week (severe, but without the dehydration that required the ER), you start to figure out that something is wrong. What precisely is wrong, is up to speculation again, but something more serious than a 24 hour bug is working me over.

Lactose intolerance is a likely suspect. So I have given up dairy for the time being. I expect to wear black until next June.

Other possibilities are pretty much all so complicated and dire that they require a specialist. I'm scheduled for July 22. I figure if I get up to 10 lbs lost in two weeks, I'll call and ask for another appointment.

Q, while himself capable of patiently sitting still for nearly an hour at an intimate double bass concert, has been straining our patience levels lately. So we refreshed our time out skills and he's responded quickly. But the poor kid isn't sleeping that well, and he's out of his nice preschool structure, so it's not surprising that he's been having more tantrums and whining fits than usual.

Wednesday night, he woke up from a nightmare, but not quite. J lay down next to him in bed, but Q simply kept yelling "No!" and kicking his legs, refusing to open his eyes or be soothed. J picked him up and carried him downstairs, hoping the change of venue would wake him enough to shake off the bad dream. Halfway down, Q stops screaming, and says calmly, "I want some ice cream," cracking both of us up. J brought him outside and showed him a lone firefly on our lawn. All very well and good, but he still wanted some ice cream. Sorry buddy.

I think Q's problem is that right now Noodle is learning a lot of new skills at once. She's walking now. The furthest she's managed is across the living room, but she's made vast progress in just two weeks. She's also saying 'Hi!' to strangers, and grinning her funny gap toothed smile, which no one can resist. Or, also amusing to strangers, staring suspiciously at them. She peers seriously into books, cuddles, and gets into trouble constantly. She has simply hit that absolutely adorable toddler stage and requires a lot of attention. And rewards it.

Today she discovered the pacifier stash. Since she no longer constantly needs a pacifier, we've been stashing them near her crib for bedtimes, when they're really quite helpful. As I was doing laundry today, she discovered the bin and pulled out a pacifier and tried it out. But there's another one! She spits out the first, inserts the next. Oooh! Wait! Another pacifier! She spits out the second, inserts the third. Whenever left unattended this afternoon, she'd make her way back to the bin and start trying on pacifiers like they were swimsuits. I'm sure the perfect fit is in here somewhere.

Weekend of Indulgence

After months of asking when he would turn 4, suddenly Q's birthday has come and gone without the tremendous exhilaration or infamous tantrums one would expect with so much anticipation. Is it possible that we could have fulfilled all his preschooler fantasies without building them into a frenzy? I have this dark suspicion that this last week of preschool will be filled with the disappointment of discovering that every day is not filled with lovely adventures, cake, presents and attention. Then we'll see some frenzied tantrums.

Friday we had the traditional picnic at Cedar Lake with cake. Q raced off to play in the sand with the child featured in last year's birthday photos, referred to internally as the 'resident' kid. This year they are both nearing four and civilized behavior and cooperative play came more easily. We barely saw Q the first hour. He was busy.



So Noodle reaped the benefits of having the nearly undistracted attention of 5 doting adults. She was thrilled. And, contrary to most days, photogenic:


She's greeting these early months of her second year with eagerness. Over the weekend she suddenly decided that last week's solo step repeated in various locations is just baby stuff and demonstrated a surprising new ability to string together several steps (up to 6 so far!). Oddly enough, she's best at it when she's tired. She's abandoned the hairball sound used to identify cats in favor of a sound equally ghastly for feline ears: the simple high pitched shriek. Although 'de-de' is still used to identify Daddy, babies, kitties and sometimes confusing undetermined items, she now prefers her new word, "this". Combined with pointing, it has proved itself an effective and satisfying word.


I have resisted the temptation to post the photo of Noodle being wiped clean of cake, looking at my mother with evident dislike on her face

Much to my delight, Q was delighted with every present he opened. A semaphore (go look it up and find out if I spelled it right) brought out a long and detailed explanation. He's now sleeping with it. Just in case.

And, much to my foolish joy, Q's beloved Excavator is returned to his arms.

Minor Injury Report

So Q had his first sports related injury in T-ball this past Thursday. Because Mom and Dad were there to witness the disaster, he was unable to continue with Preschool that day. Sadly, from my distant perspective it was terribly funny: one of the moms hit the t-ball, which flew straight out to smack him in the face. It seemed like a scene in a movie. (The mother felt awful and I'm sure I'd be scarred for life if it had been me that hit the ball.) Q seems to have recovered, since the next day he and a preschool buddy were deliberately throwing a ball into each other's faces.


Today I determined that I was courageous enough to attempt to trim Noodle's hair. I was mostly afraid that I would mangle the job and she would end up looking like someone tried to trim her hair in the dark. Turns out, that should've been the least of my worries. I didn't notice that she moved mid-trim, turning to yell at me. I scolded her. "It doesn't hurt to get your hair cut." Oh, yes, I guess it does hurt if your mother slices off your ear. The flow of blood down her shoulder being the tip-off. Luckily she's really hard to phase over something like this. She continued to bleed for probably half an hour of my attempts to staunch the flow with various strategies, but she was totally unconcerned after the initial protest.

Sadly, I think her hair looks a little like I tried to trim it in the dark.

Memorial Day Weekend

Last year on Memorial Day weekend I spent Thursday and Friday nights in the Yale New Haven Hospital with Noodle as she was pumped full of antibiotics. I flashed back to that this Friday when I ended up in the ER, getting pumped full of fluids, pain killers, and something to relax my stomach muscles. The whole household seems to be feeling pretty puny: J picked up my GI bug (although he had a milder version and didn't get felled by dehydration) and the two kids are snot-nosed and tired. Hopefully we're all on the mend now, and to remember a year ago definitely puts colds and viruses into perspective.

Saturday we tried to take things easy, but still have enough activity that the kids would fall asleep when their heads hit the pillows. After an easy walk around downtown Essex, we stopped for ice cream, and I shared my scoop with Noodle. J has been trying (with some success) to teach her to say, "MMMMM" when she wants more of something. This was being reinforced very solidly with the ice cream- until I ran out. She got a bit upset. So J coached her on the "MMMMM" some more, giving her tastes of his. Which worked until he ran out. We tidied up as she voiced her protest, and buckled her into the stroller. She settled down a bit as we explained that it was all gone. Then she spotted the two teenage boys eating huge cones nearby. Pointing at them, she screeched, "THERE'S MORE!" in every way except actual words. Terribly funny.

She's actually starting to do this quite a bit. She points out when even complete strangers have something- anything- she doesn't have. It's obviously unfair. Her main desire is food, or drink, but she can get quite worked up about the car keys hanging in the kitchen. "THEY'RE RIGHT THERE! YOU'RE NOT USING THEM!"

Q is starting to fall into the 4 year old narration pattern of announcing every single detail of everything he's doing and seeing. It can be charming, albeit with some reservations, when he pops into our bedroom at 2:30 am to tell us he can see the moon through the window! But it can also be a bit exhausting when you've asked him three times to do a particular task and he's explaining instead what he is doing which is totally unrelated in excruciating detail. It'd be fascinating, except if he doesn't get his underwear and pants on in the next five minutes, the chances of getting him to preschool, and me to work, on time, are remote.

His favorite line currently is, "I like Noodle." He says this so many times each day that the phrase about 'doth protest too much' comes to mind. Except, most of the time, he really seems to like her. He shares with her, tries to play with her, giggles at her. He's a remarkably kind big brother. Fingers crossed.

Q is also in the delightful stage where he adores helping and (this is key) can actually help! He's practically desperate for me to make dinner in the evenings with the hope that he can help me. Tonight he was unable to sleep at bed time because he had one of his rare car naps. So we ordered groceries together, put the recycling into the bin and brought it out to the curb with the trash, cleaned up Noodle's exersaucer (she's too big for it, but has been delighted by the novelty of being placed in it lately), and as I cleaned the kitty litter he supervised and discussed the delicate distinction between kitty puke and kitty poop .

The key to finding ways he can help is to remember: No Task Is Too Small. "Could you throw this in the trash for me please?" "Can you put this washcloth in the hamper in Noodle's room please?" The main difficulty lies in thinking ahead to the next small task and having it ready for his return. Otherwise I end up asking him to use sophisticated tools with mixed results. The salad spinner and grater were successes, but the peeler incident resulted in blood and bandaids, and a tragic waste of parmesan...

Gardening

For Mother's Day, Q received a rake and hoe. Since working in the yard is something he does primarily with me. These are metal and effective and now he has better gardening tools than I do. I have to bargain with him, trading the use of the hoe for the rake. They may be child sized, but let's face it, I'm not that tall, and most of my gardening is small scale.

I'm attempting to keep the yard respectable this summer. We laid good groundwork for this last fall by finally digging out a tremendous number of weeds (I believe much of this work was done after the growing season was over) and mulching around the plants we hoped were deliberate plantings. Now if I am vigilant and attempt to weed several days each week, I hope I might keep the garden beds attractive.

I've taken to hanging out in the yard with the kids trying to weed to this end. This works better some days than others. If Noodle is satisfied with hanging out in the wagon with a toy, and if Q is satisfied with remaining in our yard, I can actually get quite a bit of work done. Sometimes the kids even cooperate together, Q pulling Noodle in the wagon, to her obvious and touching delight. In various sessions in the past two weeks, with assistance from J, we have created a new bed (mulched even!) for day lilies in our side yard where we'll appreciate it every time we come home. J took it into his head to actually whack off all the dead branches on the shrubs on the same side yard. I kept thinking, 'Wait, we can *do* that?' They look much better. A little strange in bits, but so much less, well, dead.

Yesterday I hacked apart an already leafed hosta. I'd generally recommend dividing hostas in the spring or fall the way you're supposed to. However we have Very Large hostas that are massing in a plot to take over Rhode Island. My experience in the past four years with this yard is that I simply cannot insult the hostas enough to kill one. It's amazingly difficult to divide them in the first place. I hop up and down on the shovel attempting to break the root mass. I dig all around the entire plant, then remove the dirt from underneath it, hoping to surprise it with a sneak attack. Once I manage to crack off (and it sounds like I'm bursting open a melon) a chunk, I simply drop it in a shallow grave, pat the sides gently with loose dirt, water them once or twice until I forget (make that once) and the next spring I have a new hosta hedge. So I'm taking a mild risk by hacking off chunks of a heretofore neglected hosta (they like to be divided I'm told, and this one was crowded and attempting to smother the local perennials). I managed to get three good sized hosta chunks for replanting on the dark side of the rhododendron and I'll hope that they will take over and remove any lasting guilt I have for neglecting that corner of the yard. It's probably over run with dogs hitting the lightpole anyways.

Today I continued my assorted crusades and Q continued to assist. One of his favorite tasks is to run around the yard, pulling up small red seedlings from the Norwegian Maple and bring each individually to my attention, "Look Mommy! I found a baby tree!" There are thousands in the lawn and garden beds, so we may have located our summer entertainment. He has learned the name of a few plants (hostas and skunk cabbage, which sadly look identical to the naive eye, forsythias, dandelions). Today he brought me a spring of a flower plant. "What is is this called Mommy?" I don't know this one. He solved the problem, "I call it fermangia!"

Noodle Turns One

She was tentative and mildly confused at first.


But she caught on...



She flew through her one year check up with flying colors, much to my relief, although not to any real surprise. She's packing on the pounds, and although she's only 18 lbs 13 oz, she's put on 3 lbs in 3 months when they expect the weight gain to slow down, and popped herself from the 5th percentile (5 to 10, I could've sworn it was 15th at 9 months) into the 15th percentile. Not to call her chubby. She's in the 50th percentile for length, which I think is also a bump up, and helps me understand why she looks more toddler than baby like. The new tooth I spotted recently (she's got several coming in) is a molar.

No walking yet, but it's starting to look like she's considering taking a step towards a desired object, then deciding that leaning or crawling is more prudent. Sadly, she's taken up shrieking and thus far we haven't been able to persuade her that it's a bad idea.

She's still a pretty mellow kid. She and Q seem to complement each other pretty well. She's getting cute, but still has far more potential for adorable goofy than pretty exactly. She's got a crinkle between her eyes when she grins. She'll let you know when she's unhappy, or if she wants something, but as one grandma pointed out, she's quick to forgive and forget once the situation is righted.

Noodle reminds us most of her brother, paradoxically followed by reminding us of my brother C, with her mischievous grin and her crawling obviously accelerating when she sees a forbidden object in reach. We may be in trouble.

Food: A Whole Body Experience

E.T.

This morning while Noodle was happily pointing at the cat and hacking out her sound for “Cat” (“AC- ACK- ACK!”), I asked her to go get the truck. She looked at me, crawled over to the truck and brought it to me. Definitely serious neuron work going on in there, despite the alien communication skills.

Sunshine and Time

Today was the first afternoon in a while that we had unrushed time together as a family and the weather was brilliant. I met J and the kids at a park after work. Q ran around happily playing with children he'd never met before, with a happy, "Hi Mommy!" when he saw me.

Noodle has a new word, her first word outside of Dada, and spent the afternoon calling everything "Ack!" which is Noodle for "Cat!" You can tell it means Cat because it gets very animated and repetitive when she's near or pointing to a cat. Otherwise you'd think she had something caught in her throat.

She also indiscriminately calls many things Dada, but has clearly indicated the understanding of the word again and used it when he handed her a pacifier late one night. Very, very sweet.

When we got home after running errands, we had dinner on the patio, for the first time this spring. I'm going to brainstorm strategies to make this easier because it is simply so nice to eat outside, except for the lugging of high chairs, food, silverware, drinks, plateware, and children who need constant supervision.

Q is on spring vacation this week and you'd think he had a rigorous academic schedule by how much he seems to enjoy not being rushed out of the house at 8:50 each morning. Personally, I'm relieved that we're coming up with a plan for summer activities for him. Last summer he was a poster boy for 'Idle hands are the devil's playthings'. We're just not clever enough to keep a preschooler busy for months on end.

Today he declared with all the importance of a tiny Buddha (or Yoda) that "If upstairs was downstairs, then downstairs would be upstairs."

For those who would like an update on No Thank You bites, it does appear that I won that skirmish. He ate the exact same foods we fought over the following night, with barely an attempt for negotiating (and actually he ate the cheese toast with much gusto). The trick, it seems, is to remember his preschool teacher's recommendation that you offer the "less preferred" items first, then, after you are satisfied by the No Thank You bite, offer the food they'll actually eat.

Fruitless Battles

At preschool, the kids are trained to take 'No Thank You' bites. I need to investigate what level of cooperation my son is giving them regarding these bites.

This evening I gave Q a few peas (6) and some toasted cheese. These came at the end of the meal (they were finally ready) where he cleared off veggie sausage, pineapple, milk and perhaps something else I can't recall.

I told Q I expected him to eat a no thank you bite of each consisting of 3 peas and 1 actual bite of the cheese toast. He refused. I insisted. He refused. I insisted. He refused. I insisted.

So finally I left him at the table (kitchen has been cleaned, his sister fed and played with, I've had a cup of tea, and kept insisting he stay at the table) and took Noodle upstairs for her bath. I hear him dump his plate into the sink (a required chore) and he padded up the stairs.

"Did you eat your no thank you bite?"
"...No."

Ok. So what can I logically punish him with? This is beyond what I think is reasonable anyways (on the pick your battle front I have no idea why I am in the midst of this skirmish). So I inform him that I'm very disappointed in him. And that consequently tonight he can't use Noodle's bath water.

Yes, that's right, an actual and real punishment that sends him into a tantrum and even evokes a tear which wrenches my grumpy heart: he cannot use the bathwater used for his sister's bath. I don't know why it's so important to him, but he's made it clear in the past (you only make the mistake once) that he really wants to take a bath in her bathwater. Sometimes even with her in it, but usually after she's done. Got me why.

I believe I won the skirmish, but to be honest, I'm not sure.

Warmer Weather and Photo Catch Up

A few warm days have let us try out the Christmas gift from Grampa Lloyd (or Grampa Louie as he's known in preschool) and Granmary: a beautiful Radio Flyer wagon. Although the initial reaction seemed a bit lackluster, the kids are loving it. Today Noodle was humming as Q pulled her along (and this was after a meltdown). So Q pulled her down to see the horses down the street.

Noodle let out a piercing terrified scream upon seeing the horse. Not a pleasant surprise. She calmed down while I held her, but let's just say that's not where *she* wants to go for fun.

Below you can see how we came back, all up hill.


As you can see, Noodle now has four teeth.


And this is how she uses them:


But her most terrifying new potential was exhibited outside just this afternoon.

She can stand briefly without assistance, by which I mean for about the count of ten, rather than simply an alarming second or two. She had trouble getting the push toy to work outside (the lawn was too rough, but the street too smooth), but yesterday she surprised me by walking with it, unassisted, across the living room. She might get interested in walking again.

Snippets

Today I heard Noodle fussing as I was trying to pull together dinner for the kids. Q starts talking to her, and I leaned in to watch. He took her hands and started rocking back and forth with her, singing, "Row Row Row Your Boat" (a game I've played with them). Forgetting the words, he improvised his own as she laughed with delight.

Noodle often laughs on seeing someone she likes- especially Q. As she stood at the stair gate, banging it back and forth, she spotted him at the bottom of the stairs and kept laughing as he climbed all the way up.

The other night I was at a Preschool Forum and heard that at a year children know (can't say, but understand) about 100 words. Contemplating this, we figure Noodle must have 50 plus, right? But which words does she know?

Yesterday we looked at the bargain end of season clothes that J picked up at OshKosh outlets. One had a cat on it and I said, "Aw, a kitty!" Noodle, on my lap, points at Savannah (the mean cat).

We've tried little tests, "Noodle, get the hat!" She picks up the hat. "Noodle, get the book!" She picks up the hat. (The hat is new and exciting.) I'm sure she knows our names, but you couldn't tell by the way she responds to anything other than her own name. I think she knows what, "Come here!" means, but when you have a test subject who responds to a request when she has the whim, well, you get unreliable results.

Q has been genius good lately. He's set aside his acute interest in learning to read for the moment. Imaginative play seems to have taken its place. We listened to the trucks interacting with different voices, a normal Q saying, "Can you get out of the way?" Gruff voice, "No." Tiny voice responds for another truck explaining that he'd have to go around. Today he let me nap while he played trucks, for two hours. He's unreasonably good.

Easter Photos: Lessons

I decided that after months of chasing annoying plastic eggs around my house last year, I was going to learn my lesson. This Easter I was going to decorate real eggs and that Q would love to help. What I learned a little too late is that you should buy white eggs if you are going to dye them. Nonetheless. It was a fun project and Q loved it.


After finding the hidden eggs this morning, Q immediately wanted them hidden for another hunt. The second round Noodle got to help (she woke up). As you can see, she found one Q missed (in the other shoe) and is trying to get his attention.



Other lessons learned this weekend. I set Noodle down on the floor next to a sleepy J. When I came back, this is what I found:

It took a while to get the kleenex out of her mouth...

Her third tooth has emerged, but Number 4 is just under the gum next to it. She's a good sport, but having trouble falling asleep.

She's showing a strong appreciation for the people she likes. When she wants someone particular and they either come into the room, or pick her up, she laughs with delight. She's determined to get what - or who - she wants.

She's hard to resist.

Sweetness

Noodle is teething. Again. I thought it was simply tooth number 2 working its way up, but this evening I caught a glimpse of tooth number 3 on top. A corner has barely pushed its painful way through, and the rest lurks, or rather, bulges, under the surface.

She's not sleeping that well. Basically she wants to be held until she's absolutely exhausted. (sigh) But since there's been only one night with out and out screaming, I'm feeling less overwhelmed.

Tonight I pulled her out of her not-yet-bedtime crib and brought her upstairs, hoping that if I bribed her with yet more warm milk, she'd find sleep irresistible.

J was reading to Q about vehicles on our bed, so I joined them. After a few minutes, I realized that as Q chattered away, he was leaning his cheek into Noodle's soft copper hair. So sweet. Then he just blew me away.

"You are the bestest guwurl ever Noodle," he announced.

Sharing the Pain and the Glory

Lately (as in, twice before and again today) we have taken Q to a place called Kidz Kutz to get his hair cut. I know, just the name alone is enough reason not to go there. But they have 'vehicles' for kids to sit in while they get trimmed. And videos to watch. And tolerant hair stylists.

The first time, it worked marvelously well. The kid got a really good haircut and a lollypop. I avoided wielding a pair of scissors near my child's head while he screamed and flailed. I didn't even mind that he only whimpered for the stylist.

The second time didn't go as well. He seemed enthusiastic about the vehicles, but then once the trimming started, he began to wail and I had to hold his head still several times for her to whack back the foliage. Worse, his sister woke up and I was holding an unhappy Noodle on one hip, while bracing his head with my chin and arm.

He was due in for another cut, and I decided to beg J to take him in. Sometimes he behaves better if I'm not there. Sometimes. And, I figured at least if he (that is, J) had a traumatic time, he'd be sympathetic next time, even if he wanted to avoid it.

Didn't go so hot. J's words to describe it included: loud, crying, and fetal position.

They finally had J sit in a chair (not a vehicle), with a smock, then had Q sit in his lap, with a smock, and then they buzzed him. He did get different lengths on the sides and top (deliberately), and it looks great, but when I asked him about it he said, "Mommy, don't talk."

J and I agreed that after what would probably be a traumatic event, Q should get a trip somewhere special. I had a sudden stroke of genius and suggested the Chester Airport (see the plane?).

It was a huge hit.

Here's a better look at the haircut.

At the last moment he began bargaining for me to trim his hair at home, then for me to take him for the hair cut, so I bribed him with the job of helping J pick out sandwiches for us. This sweetened the deal enough to get him into the car without tears or lugging. And the happy result for me was an invitation to join them at the airport for a picnic. So I packed up the Noodle, who'd just woken up from a long lovely nap, and drove the 5 minutes to meet them.


It turns out that Noodle doesn't like sudden loud noises. A plane taking off nearly had her in hysterics. I apologized for not warning her. This was the second time in two days that she's been startled by a loud noise (the first by a neighbor's dog barking, only a foot or two away), and has responded with terrified screaming. She's so mellow most of the time that I forget that she can be surprised unpleasantly.

Alas, unlike the small airport of my childhood town, there does not seem to be a place to purchase ice cream while you watch the planes. Sorry Dad.

Report cards

Since Q flunked one of his physicals as a baby, I tend to view them as a report card. As such, Noodle passed with flying colors and great news. She’s gained two lbs and at nine months is now a whole (gasp) 15 lbs, 15.5 oz. That is, about 16 lbs for those of us who have trouble with English measurements. Still right on the same growth chart continuum: 10-25th%, right where she ought to be.

To put her size in perspective, speaking with a friend last night, I found out that her 4 month old son is nineteen pounds.

Her hemoglobin levels are fine so she can now drink whole milk. I’m stoked- no more formula! Also, since we don’t have food allergies, she’s been cleared for pretty much all soft food in cheerio sized chunks (except nuts and honey). So she’s been plunged into new foods immediately: pasta and veggie sausage with red sauce (I think the spice upset her once, I wasn’t thinking), and eggs, bananas (not mashed!), chopped up pear, and of course her cheerios. Dr also says things cooked with honey are fine, just no raw honey.

When stripped of the cumbersome jammies, she can crawl pretty fast now. She may even discard the notion that walking would be more effective for her goals.

Oh boy!

Noodle is happily chowing down on anything we give her these days. I actually took two photos of this- with two separate cheerios.

Several times I've gone in to get the wailing girl from her crib, only to discover she has managed to trap herself. Twice she was trying to stand and when she slipped, her legs stuck out between the rails of the crib, trapping her. This morning when I went to pick her up, she was flat on her back, holding onto the top rail, as if for dear life. A child who doesn't know how to let something go. I'm sure it's not genetic.

This weekend we did a brief tour of the town's Winter Carnival. Pretty much every town event is marked with a tractor parade. We didn't stay for the parade (I'm a wimp, I was cold), but Q scored big time.

To get an appreciation of the scale, here's another photo.


Q rapidly shifts from being a pesty big brother (poking, ramming, rolling, grabbing) to being an incredibly sweet and instructive big brother. Below is a rotten photo of him helping Noodle ride his trike. This is a pure Noodle grin, so I can't resist sharing.

Personally Noodle's 9 month mark has come with a sad end. Due to my own mistake of not asking enough questions, I am no longer nursing her, not even the twice a day which I was feeling was a slacker nursing strategy. After being told that the mini-pill wasn't effective enough birth control if I was only nursing twice a day, I switched to a regular dose pill. I wasn't paying close attention this week since Noodle was teething and failed to realize that my milk was drying up. When she hadn't nursed three days in a row, I finally figured out the problem. At this point only extreme intervention would reinstate my milk, and frankly, while I'm disappointed, I am not willing to take the necessary steps. So a choice in the end. I think I'd be more sad if she weren't a cuddly little baby, but comforting her has always been easy, and rarely has she asked to nurse for comfort.

This morning I whisked together some formula for her to suck down while I attempted to doze a few more minutes in bed with her. Upon seeing the bottle she actually chortled with delight. I think I can get over it.