June 2008 - Posts

• Driving Debris

  The Bees is a lithe little thing – a body type that, sadly, only the dog shares with her. Being less than 20 lbs she still has to sit in the rear-facing car seat. All her friends are enjoying the forward facing seat, waving their sippy cups at their parents, pointing at the passing scenery; it’s happy hour for goodness sake. But The Bees still stares at the plain seat back, and I can’t even see her head much less the rest of her. I have tried to liven up her area by posting pictures of family members (both human and animals). I rip out magazine ads of cats and children and tape them up. She used to fall asleep while being chauffered around but lately she calls out and reaches toward me with her little hand. Her legs are too long for the seat so her little knees are bent and her feet kick out at whatever is before her. I wince at her discomfort and boredom and can’t wait for her to graduate. I am not one to follow the rules. They say do not put a mirror on the car seat as you will turn around to look into it (I have one, and I do that). They also say do not try to feed your child while driving, but when all else fails (music, toys, singing, the wind), I feel little remorse at playing octopus at the wheel. Though I often supply her with lap snacks for even the shortest trip – a snack trap filled with cheerios, a sippy cup of water, these items are often flung over the car seat. Sometimes her trajectory is so good that they actually sail through the air and land in the front seat, or better yet - in the foot well of the front seat. “Wow” CB and I remark to each other, impressed at her aim. A few days ago The Bees and I were headed out of town. I packed her into the car at 6:45am and off we went to BWI Airport. When she realized this was not just a local jaunt and she started kvetching I reached over my head and handed her a banana. She was quiet for a few minutes. I heard a thud as a half-eaten carcass was thrown over the side. She started mewling again. I handed her two goldfish. I could hear a little “Whish Whish” from the back as she examined her new treasure. By the time we were on the beltway there was more clamoring. I handed her an organic cheese stick, half-unwrapped. She was quiet for a time and I thought I was in the clear. By the time we passed Ellicott City she was kicking the pictures in front of her. I handed her an animal cracker, and “cat cat” came the appreciative response. We arrived at BWI, I turned up the 5 storied garage and parked. As I unloaded The Bees I found mashed cookie on her blouse, yellow cheese pressed into her pants, goldfish crushed under her bottom and the browning mashed banana decorating the seat before her. She held up a cat cookie with a smile. Posted Jun 26 2008, 06:25 PM by districtmom with no comments Filed under: babies, dc, baby, toddlers, car seat, cookie, food, driving, snack [Edit Tags]

• Redemption and the letter I

  Recently while visiting my family in upstate New York I took The Bees to a local playground. I was thrilled to discover it, as the weather was too chilly to swim in the pool and we needed an alternate play area. The playground is fairly new - the extended jungle gym is painted primary colors with ramps, tubes and covered slides, fish-eye windows, platforms, large wheels to turn, big number blocks to flip over. The whole thing sits on a bed of rubber which is reassuring. We arrived to see four other children ages 2 to 6 scampering around, two girls, two boys with four parents circling close by. At 15 months The Bees can only do a few things at the playground – she can walk up ramps and along walkways, swing in a bucket swing, slide down a small slide with my assistance, sit in a rocking toy and walk around collecting mulch and rocks. The latter is her favorite thing to do. I led The Bees over to a vacant enclosed slide – she loves tunnels -- and she was enjoying hiking up a few steps and camping out inside, but every time she tried to do so, a 5-year old pony-tailed girl would come pushing her way down. “Oh I didn’t hurt you, did I?” she would say insincerely and loud enough for her mother to hear. She had not been the least interested in the slide before we came along. I hoisted The Bees out of the slide and she ran over to the wood chips and rocks. While she was crouched over inspecting bits of gravel I came across a small, white dice-shaped cube with the letter “I” printed on it. “Look Bees” I said. “I found the letter I”. “I want a letter I” whined the pony-girl who had followed us from the slide.  “I would like to have one too”. “Well, look around”, I answered. Maybe you’ll find one. “But I don’t see any” she whined, and then, “I want the letter I” she demanded. I ignored her and took The Bees up a smaller jungle gym that had a plastic tunnel going from one platform to another. She crawled through the platform and along came Miss Ponytail again. She pushed her way into the tube and past The Bees.  The Bees was gripping the Letter I tightly in her fist and Miss Ponytail eyed her. Then The Bees spotted a little window out the side of the tube, and stuck her first out, dropping the letter I. “I’ll go get it” I said. “No, I’ll go get it!” Miss Ponytail said. She hopped down from the jungle gym, scurried underneath, picked up the letter I and skipped away. “I found it”, she gloated at us “and I’m keeping it”. She sauntered off to her mother claiming she’d just found something on the ground. Then she skipped back. “I’m putting it in my pocket” she sang tauntingly, her eyes narrowed. We climbed down off the jungle gym and walked over to a slide.  Miss Ponytail scampered behind us. “I have the letter I” she needled (at this point I wanted to throttle her). She held it out to The Bees who reached for it, and like Charlie Brown’s Lucy she then snatched it away. The Bees started to cry. I wanted to grab that ponytail, bend it over my knee and give her a spanking. I tried guiding the Bees to some other toys but she was cranky at this point, and whimpering. I saw Miss Ponytail’s mother gathering up her things and calling to her daughter. They started exiting the park and Miss P dragged her feet, looking behind her. She knew that I knew that she was naughty. She was both boasting and scared that I would catch her. I let her get half way across the parking lot to her car and then I called out in a sing-song voice loud enough for her mother to hear “That’s ok! You can keep it! No worries!” Miss Ponytail’s mother beckoned to her daughter, leaned over, then took her hand and marched back to us. “Did she take this from you?” she asked, her daughter already whimpering. “Yes, but that’s ok” I said. “No she told me she found it.” She replied. “Well, it was ours but she can have it.” I said magnanimously. “Oh no, certainly not” said the mother. At this point the wretch was bawling, “I want the letter I! Mommy! I want it!”, as her mother bent over and scolded her and then dragged her away kicking and howling back to their car. I gave the small cube to the Bees, stood up and could not help the enormous smile that spread across my face. “AHHH sweet vengeance!” I announced to the empty playground.  The Bees glanced at the cube ad flung it away without a backward glance.   Posted Jun 25 2008, 07:17 AM by districtmom with 1 comment(s) Filed under: baby, toddler, toy, jungle gym, playyground, slide [Edit Tags]

• The Booby

  In Latin America, as in many other parts of the world, the practice of nursing is a given, and the duration is usually for years. It’s not uncommon in many cultures to see 13 year-olds still suckling at the breast. Well maybe that’s an exaggeration, but certainly for two or three years. Here in the States though (apparently in France even more so) formula is more a trend than a necessary supplement, nursing is almost seen as an inconvenience, and for those who do opt to nurse (and/or pump) the period can range from just a few weeks to a few  months. You are almost frowned upon for nursing beyond a year.  When The Bees turned 6 months they were impressed, as in, “you’re still nursing?”  At one year I heard, with concern in their voices, “So how long are you planning to nurse?” And now that she’s almost 15 months people say firmly, “Now what’s the weaning plan” as if it’s clear that I’m the one who is addicted and therefore I need encouragement and guidance. While it may be true that I am not eager to end these cozy times when she curls into me, hooking her leg over my waist, clutching with both hands, gazing at me with adoration, I do realize that the time is nigh for both of us. She’s eating her three square meals of solid food, and I could use a girlfriends’ weekend away!  I’ve read the books that teach you how to wean, others that say let your child wean you (and if that were the case my girlfriend C’s boys would still be suckling at ages 7 and 8). We have gotten down to twice a day, and I won’t allow CB to mention “booby” (one of his favorite words) or “nursing” for fear of being stormed like Normandy.  The Bees still nurses first thing in the morning and last thing at night. The morning ritual has continued mostly because CB gets up at 6am and feeds/plays with her while Mama enjoys an extra snooze. At 7 she climbs up the stairs and is thrown into bed where she immediately assumes the supine position and opens her mouth like a baby bird in the nest. Once she’s locked and loaded she stares dreamily into my eyes like only the best lover, and pat-pats me on the shoulder. Here’s a good reason for weaning though:  the biting. There was one evening when CB and I were having an “animated” discussion and The Bees must have been angling for my full attention for she took a hard chomp with her teeth, I yelled and jumped up and said “NO!” in a very firm voice. She looked stunned for a moment, her mouth curved down and then she crawled into my arms for forgiveness. Since then she has tested this, by looking me square in the eye and gently closing her 8 teeth on the target.  It makes me more than a little nervous: all I need is for her to decide that the booby is a battleground and I’m through. But this week I’ve started the process of weaning by dragging myself out of bed at that ungodly hour in the morning. Torturous as it is at 6am (especially when there is no coffee brewing), I have found that if I’m up and about, she’s less likely to notice that she’s missing something. While she might miss that bonding morning time, she will get our cuddle in other ways. As for the evening session, it’s just too soon to end it -warm, cozy, nurturing, wonderful… for me. Posted Jun 25 2008, 07:15 AM by districtmom with no comments Filed under: babies, dc, baby, toddlers, biting, breast, feeding, booby, weaning [Edit Tags]

• My Favorite Toys

  Elmo Pool Since it’s summer and we don’t have access to a pool I was grateful for a hand-me-down red plastic Elmo pool. You can’t really tell it’s Elmo unless you put on the top with the big trademark eyes on it. We keep just the bottom of it in the front yard and drag the hose out to fill it. CB says we’re bringing down the neighborhood: baby in a diaper, mamma sitting in an aluminum fold-up chair with her feet cooling in a faded plastic pool. But let me tell you we both enjoy this toy three or four times a day.  Sleep Sheep When I was six months pregnant my sister gave me a Sleep Sheep at my baby shower. It has 5 different soothing sounds, including a strong ‘mother’s heart beat’. I found it quite cuddly and took it to my bed (just one more barrier between us, my husband noted crankily). When I was suffering from severe insomnia and anxiety in my 8th month, and already entwined with a body pillow, I clutched the sheep to my ear, turned the volume up and would press the ocean waves repeatedly until I fell asleep. Since The Bees was born the sleep sheep has taken up residence in her crib, strapped to the side bars. The ocean sounds ease her cranky passage into consciousness. The Mozart Magic Cube. This is a colorful plastic cube that has different instruments featured on each side, which a child can press to hear a solo part of Mozart’s well-known pieces. You can press one instrument and then another so they join together, and then one side has the orchestra button so you can hear them play all together. There are four or five different excerpts featured on the toy and I don’t tire of them the way I do with Brahms Lullaby or other trite baby tunes.  We were the lucky recipients of a hand-me-down Mozart Cube, already well-loved by my nephew Miles. Of course this meant that one or two of the instruments will not play, but The Bees adores playing Mix Maestro anyway. I am including these two toys below that were featured in the earlier post of “Least Favorite Toys”, as I have a love/hate relationship with both of them. The Bumble Bee Scooter. We are fond of a toy store in Georgetown (now also in Bethesda) called Tugooh. Owned by the same people that run Yiro childrens boutique www.yirostores.com, the store carries elegant European wooden toys, painted in bright non-toxic paint. When you enter the store you are surrounded by soft, sanded wood, buffed to a sheen. There are rockers and slides, strollers and scooters, tricycles and see saws. But like nothing you see in an ordinary store. They are elegant, with sweeping lines, something you might find at a modern art museum. When CB and I first discovered Tugooh toys we were as captivated as if we were children. The Bees ran from the front the back, exclaiming over colors, shapes, and textures. There were lots of fabulous things in there, from a tiny wooden woodpecker that pecks his way down a metal bar, to a multi-level playhouse for mice. CB lost his heart to a scooter toy that kids can sit on a scoot around the house. The most expensive Bumble Bee on Wheels sat in our living room for months collecting dust as and even looking at it scared The Bees to death. One day, feeling brave after riding a motorcycle scooter in music class The Bees rediscovered the bumble bee scooter, and was jubilant to find that when riding it our dog Jemma would chase her and attack her with licks. Of course, since she hasn’t yet learned to paddle along with her feet, in order for her to "ride" it I have to hunch way over and push her back and forth from the living room to the dining room making me regret my old age (oh my aching back). I have done so on many evenings – most recently running over her foot in the process. I hope she hasn’t outgrown the thing before she can fully operate it by herself. The Doll Stroller Also from Tugooh - the most beautiful, the most elegant miniature stroller you've ever seen. Soft sanded wood, rubber wheels and a bright red seat cushion make the stroller inviting. A solid weight to the front means that a child can bear down on the handle and it will keep her balance and help her walk. The designer had the wit to include a blanket feature so a child can tuck her dolly or bear under the covers for a ride. The Bees took it for a test run around the store, and we were sold. We got home and she made a few one-way journeys, getting jammed on a table leg or in a corner until CB taught her how to move it back and forth until it turned direction. Of course she also insists on climbing into it backwards and gets her foot stuck and then falls down banging her head on the wood floor. But she looks good doing it. Posted Jun 14 2008, 12:15 PM by districtmom with no comments Filed under: dc, baby, toddler, pool, toy store, stroller, Bethesda, toy, scooter [Edit Tags]

• Pools and Pool Attire

  Now that it's well into June (and 100 degrees) I realize how ill prepared I am for summer. First of all, finding a pool to swim in has been a nightmare. Last summer I was still a new mother: dazed, sleep-deprived, still adjusting to the creature tethered to my chest, and a trip to the grocery store constituted a day's outing. I begged two swims from friends with pools, and lounged inside the rest of the time. This year I got galvanized in the spring. In March I called the local pool and was told it was already too late, but they were happy to put me on the waiting list for Summer 2009. The closest public pool is Georgetown Volta and it doesn't have a baby pool. The last time I was there was Summer 2006 and I had to trip over the oiled bikini babes lined up like sausages on a pan. Space for your towel was prime real estate and you had the pleasure of listening to the college students boast of their night's exploits to each other and even more loudly on their cell phones. I have not so casually dropped hints to my neighborhood friends with pools "Oh you guys have a pool?! That is SO nice! Must be SO refreshing to just jump in anytime you want! We have an old, stinky dirty baby pool in the front yard, but The Bees doesn't mind it and I get to stick my feet in which is quite refreshing." Needlesstosay, invitations are not forthcoming. My girlfriend Tina belongs to a pool in McClean so The Bees and I have tagged along once, bearing an offering of crackers and hummus. I think there will be many more days when I'll be picking up that phone and calling Tina. But summer isnt just about the pool - it's also about the choices of gear, for yourself and for your child. I'm still sporting a modest Mama get up: a swim tank that minimizes the bust and hides the tummy, along with black brief. I recently ordered some fanicer ensembles in anticipation of our upcoming vacation - but again, these include a variety of modest get ups with either the bottom covered by a swim skirt, or the top half covered with a tank.Somehow I'm just hoping that people's eyes will be drawn away from my problem areas. Look away, away, to the horizon! For The Bees I also have all these choices - a cute girlie bikini with lots of sun block and a swim diaper. Or the surfer outfit that's already spf50 and has a built-in diaper. There's a body glove wet suit I can put on over if she's cold. And then the buoyancy issue: I have an inflatable float that she can sit in with a canopy over her head - so far she has flung her arms around my neck and refused to let go. So I feel like I'm hugging a blow up toy with a noisy, wriggling center. And around a private pool do I make her wear a life jacket? Yesterday I spent about 5 hours researching life jackets. This is when the internet is not a help but a hindrance. In the "real world" if you found yourself in a boating supply store, a marina, a yacht club or an outdoors store you would simply pick up whatever they had (standard issue: orange) and that would be the end of it. But on the internet you see all the options and you learn way too much - that USCG certified which means US Coast Guard and there are types I through V and for an infant you should really not get a life jacket that says under 50 lbs, you should stick with the one that says under 30lbs.There are buckles and zippers, straps and velcro. There are cartoon characters and flowers, fish and penguins. They say a life jacket only works if a child will wear it (comfort) and if it can be seen (bright). I chose a wide, squishy life vest that doesn't ride up under the chin. It has fish on the bottom and bubbles floating on the top. Now if I could only wear something like that to disguise my problem spots! Posted Jun 11 2008, 07:30 AM by districtmom with no comments Filed under: dc, baby, bikini, toddler, pool, infant, summer, swimming, shorts, pfd, life jacket [Edit Tags]

• Coffee and Fertilizer

  Every morning I pop The Bees in her neon green stroller and we head down to Balducci’s for my coffee. She has caught on to the severity of my addiction, and even as we are getting dressed she goes to her dollhouse and pulls out her toy grocery box with a picture of a cup of Nescafe coffee on it. She says “Cah Cah?” and holds it to my mouth for a sip. I say don’t tease your mother like that, and scoop her up and off we go. It used to be that we’d arrive, greet Valerie and Bridget and Jackie and I’d enjoy my coffee while she’d sit patiently in the stroller munching on cheerios. Now she growls to be released immediately upon entering the store. She runs to the candy shelves and looks at me as I’m wagging my head mouthing NO. She smiles naughtily and pulls out handfuls of candy bars, running around the tables with them until they are cast asunder on the floor. Then she’s off. I grab my coffee and run behind her. She’s in the potato chip aisle squeezing the crinkly bags. She’s rounded the corner and has spied the tigers on the Akai juice. One by one, plucking the bottles off the shelf she hurls them to the ground. She’s scampered off to the greeting cards, clamoring “Cat Cat!” and pulls stacks of cat cards and envelopes onto the floor. I hurry behind cleaning up the debris, praying she won’t destroy something expensive. The other day she managed to bite through a bag of gourmet candy sticks. The lady behind the counter was nice enough to stow it in back. But I can’t push my luck. First of all (as my mother reminds me), it’s time for her to learn NO. Secondly it’s time to play outside. I lure her out with promises of birds, dogs, airplanes. The Bees sees the bushes and rushes over to bury her hands in the lovely mulch and dirt. She pulls out a cigarette butt. Then she moves over to the beds of impatiens. Safer territory I think. She’s sniffing them, sort of – more like licking them, and then takes a bite. I feel a bit better knowing they just sprayed the beds with water. Then she starts digging, turning her back to me. She looks back and her mouth is black with dirt (and fertilizer). Time to go home. I carry her sideways like a bag of potatoes so she won’t wipe her grubby paws on me. I take her back inside to do a rough clean up with napkins she is shrieking to be let down. I set her on the ground and she flops on her back screaming. “Nap time” I announce to the alarmed customers. Valerie laughs from behind the coffee counter and we wave goodbye.  Posted Jun 07 2008, 06:31 AM by districtmom with no comments Filed under: dc, baby, toddler, coffee, Balducci, dirt, breakfast, flowers [Edit Tags]

• Music Class

  We take a music class in Bethesda at musikids.This class really saved us in the early months when I was deliriously tired and at a loss for what to do with our day. I needed the company of similarly afflicted new mothers. Musikids offers classes every day of the week, for every level of child. The location on Auburn Avenue in Bethesda is not close to us but I like the sun-drenched space, the street parking availability, and the proximity to my favorite sushi place, Hinata Sushi on St Elmo.   Miss Bonnie is our favorite teacher, an eternally energetic, optimistic, warm person who understands babies and toddlers and is quite sympathetic to their moms. She asks you about nursing or formula, she asks about their sleeping habits and whether you are getting any sleep. We sit in a circle and Miss Bonnie uses a doll named Samantha to demonstrate how to hold your child for different songs, how to bounce her on your knees, how to dance with her. The children are riveted by Samantha and The Bees often hops us to go grab her, laying her down on the ground to open and close her eyelids. Samantha, that is, not Miss Bonnie.We sing such catchy songs as “Hello Hello Hello” and Gilly Fingers”. At first you feel a little sheepish, trying to follow along, thinking I’m doing this for my child. Later walking the dog you find yourself humming the tunes and they do come in handy when the baby is cranky.   The class was just right for us until The Bees turned one. In the last few months though she has not been interested in the class portion of the class. She races around the outskirts of the circle; she runs to the mirror and beats her fists on it. She meanders out to the front door, poking around in people’s diaper bags. I give her a little freedom and then try to scoop her up and bring her back to the circle. As all the other children are dutifully bouncing on their care-givers knees, The Bees bucks violently to get off, and rather than have her drown out the songs with her shrill shrieks I let her go. She spies the puppets in a bucket up by the window and clamors “CAT! CAT!”   It’s quite distracting and that’s when I wonder why we’re paying all this money. I remain in the circle and soldier on, singing “Aiken Drum”. We lie on our stomachs on the floor and pretend to make popcorn (as you do at home).  Then we all stand up and face each other, some of us holding our babies. Miss Bonnie puts on some music and we do some square dancing moves, Do See Do, etc. She scoops up The Bees and prances around.  Then we pretend we’re horses and gallop back and forth. I glance up to the windows and see passersby on the street peering in on their lunch break. It’s a little embarrassing to be galloping about especially if you’re not even holding a child.   After that buckets of colorful scarves are brought out and you play peek a boo and throw the scarves all over the kids. They love it. The scarves smell like someone else’s perfume: so much for sterile toys. For The Bees the best part is when they drag out the playground toys. There is a long tunnel, a squishy climbing block with stairs, a bag of balls of all different sizes, a motorcycle scooter, there are little carts on wheels that you can prop the children in and roll them around the room. The Bees trips from one toy to another, within her typical 40 second attention span. She is absolutely in heaven. I yawn and feel like crawling into the tunnel for a nap.   The class ends with bubbles, and lately The Bees is interested only in sucking on the wand. We are always the last to go, and I use the quiet minutes to shove a few bites of tuna salad down the gullet. I’m not sure if we’ll do the summer session, but we will certainly miss Miss Bonnie.   Posted Jun 05 2008, 11:19 AM by districtmom with no comments Filed under: babies, dc, toddler, play, toys, class, songs, music [Edit Tags]

• It's a Girl!

  For many years before we met my husband had fantasized about having his own chimp that would dress exactly like him. I still maintain this is very odd. Beyond narcissistic I find this mildly disturbing. But it would have to have been a boy chimp, because CB wanted a boy. When I learned I was pregnant he was sure it was a boy. The whole pregnancy he kept referring to our boy. He was so excited to take his son down to Everard’s and order him a Hickey Freeman suit with bowtie to match his own. He talked about coaching him in soccer, taking him hunting. I kept trying to remind him that it could be a girl. I come from a family of all girls, so this is what I know. But CB was stubborn in his insistence. I was working in the floral industry at the time, creating a DC market for flowers imported from Holland. The day the doctor’s office called with the news I was with my boss, driving from Baltimore back to DC. “We know what the sex is, would you like to know?” Yes I said excitedly. I glanced over at Martin. She told me. I smiled a big smile. “It is? It’s a girl?!!” I called CB at the office. “I have big news! We know what it is” I said. What is it? I waited a moment. It’s a GIRL! He was silent for a minute. A girl? Yes. Are you ok? I’m just surprised he said. He spent the afternoon absorbing the news and practicing the sound of it. It’s a girl.  In fact it took him a week to get over it. He was disappointed, and he admitted it. When The Bees was finally born he was very proud and happy. After a month or so when he got his first smile he was smitten. Later when he got his first laugh he was joyous. When she reached for him he was besotted. And when she called him Dada he was swooning. Now, it breaks his heart to hear that she carries his picture around the house when he’s gone, and that she tugs on strangers’ pant legs mistaking them for “Da Da”. He calls several times a day to ask what she’s up to. Did she have a poopy diaper? How did she sleep last night. Is she teething? Did she have a good day? He dances for her. My mother had given him a court jester hat for Christmas – at the time he thought it was the most ridiculous thing. Now it is magical. He puts it on his head, jangles his way around the living room doing ridiculous ballet leaps, and she laughs and laughs. He has mentioned several times that he can’t wait to have a Daddy/Daughter date with her. This is how he imagines it: I, the mother, relegated to chauffer status, will deliver my daughter to some swank place (probably just Smith & Wollensky as he has VIP status there) and he will be dandified (down to the sassy socks) and waiting for her with a flower, and he’ll pull out her chair and they will dine together. Now he says he can’t even fathom having a boy.  Posted Jun 02 2008, 01:46 PM by districtmom with no comments Filed under: baby, toddlers, announcement, Daddy, birth, girl, boy [Edit Tags]