I'm running out of new things to do at home with Gusi nowadays and since the weather's getting nicer, I have started taking Gusi out more in the afternoons. I took him to the zoo, then on a play date and yesterday I thought that I might as well get some errands done while I'm out so we stopped at a store to get some decorations for his upcoming birthday party.
We parked in front of the vacuum cleaner store which was just a few doors down from the decoration store. As soon as I got him out of the car he started hooting and pointing at the vacuum cleaners that were on display outside. I couldn't figure it out. He likes touching the hoses and buttons on our vacuum cleaner but what was the big deal about the ones outside? He made me take him to them and it wasn't until then that I realized that it wasn't the vacuum cleaners at all, but the balloons that were tied to them that had caught his attention. Of course! He loves balloons and bubbles and just about anything that floats in the air.
I had to pry him away from the vacuums--with much resistance on his behalf I might add--in order to finally go into the store I wanted. As soon as we walked in they had decorations for Easter already set up and his hands were eager to get at anything they could reach. He was so upset that I didn't let him play with things that he started kicking madly in his seat in the shopping cart. He squirmed his legs out of the openings (the belt buckle was broken so he wasn't buckled in) and managed to pull himself into a standing position. Great. Now I'm cruising around the store with a soon to be toddler who refuses to sit down. It was not easy but I finally got what I needed and walked over to the balloon section to place an order for his birthday party. It wasn't until the lady helping me offered him a balloon that he sat down. Why hadn't I thought of that before? I was able to check out quite easily while he tugged at the string on the balloon. Apparently the string is just as interesting as the balloon itself.
The car ride home was short but fun. I haven't heard him laugh that much in a long time. When we finally walked in the door he was so thrilled to have his balloon that he walked it all through the house as if to show each room his new toy. He held on to it when I had him on the changing table, when he had his snack and even though I managed to get him to let it go for dinner, he decided he had been apart from it too long so when it was bath time he took it to the bath with him. It was so cute and he was having so much fun.
Amazing how something so simple can make him--and me--so happy.
Wednesday, February 28, 2007
Tuesday, February 27, 2007
The Great Button Discovery
Gusi goes through these phases where he practices a skill over and over again to achieve near perfection in that activity. Right now it's pointing and pushing buttons. He's obsessed. Doorbells, telephones, keyboards--anything that can be pushed he'll find it if he's in a 10 foot radius. I do provide him with lots of positive feedback and encouragement when he successfully turns something on or off as well as provide encouragement and help when he gets "stuck". I hope this also contributes to his learning.
Yesterday, he started putting 2 + 2 together. He made his way to the living room where he got a hold of our remote controls. I thought he would push the buttons to see the little lights blink and would eventually move on. I was wrong. He realized that when he pushed the green button on one of the remotes, something incredible happened--voices came from the other side of the room and eventually an image on a silver box. He was mesmerized. He pushed it again and it all went away. Amazing. He did it again. And again. And again. And again. It wasn't the TV that impressed him, it was the power he had over it. Just to test his theory he pushed another button. Nothing. He went back to the original green button and his face lit up. He looked at me as if to say, "Did you see what I just did?"
When he eventually tired he left the remotes on the sofa and crawled over to the TV itself. There he found the remote control's counter part: the on/off button on the TV. It was just too much for him to handle...two great discoveries in one day. He spent the next 20 minutes going back and forth from the TV on/off button to the remote control one (still on the sofa). I thought about putting the remote right next to the TV so he wouldn't have to crawl but I decided against that; all that crawling would tire him out paving the way for a good nap. Which it did.
I wonder when he'll move on to the great discovery of washing dishes. That will not only get applause from me, but also a standing ovation.
Yesterday, he started putting 2 + 2 together. He made his way to the living room where he got a hold of our remote controls. I thought he would push the buttons to see the little lights blink and would eventually move on. I was wrong. He realized that when he pushed the green button on one of the remotes, something incredible happened--voices came from the other side of the room and eventually an image on a silver box. He was mesmerized. He pushed it again and it all went away. Amazing. He did it again. And again. And again. And again. It wasn't the TV that impressed him, it was the power he had over it. Just to test his theory he pushed another button. Nothing. He went back to the original green button and his face lit up. He looked at me as if to say, "Did you see what I just did?"
When he eventually tired he left the remotes on the sofa and crawled over to the TV itself. There he found the remote control's counter part: the on/off button on the TV. It was just too much for him to handle...two great discoveries in one day. He spent the next 20 minutes going back and forth from the TV on/off button to the remote control one (still on the sofa). I thought about putting the remote right next to the TV so he wouldn't have to crawl but I decided against that; all that crawling would tire him out paving the way for a good nap. Which it did.
I wonder when he'll move on to the great discovery of washing dishes. That will not only get applause from me, but also a standing ovation.
Saturday, February 24, 2007
I've Been Tagged
My friend Shokufeh has tagged me to come up with six weird things about myself. I can only think that I find myself to be a perfectly normal person but there are things that others have pointed out to me that they call peculiar.
Here I go.
1. I get immensely irritated by bad PowerPoint presentations. I want to halt the entire fiasco that's about to happen, take the speaker aside and tell them to redo their slides. Don't read what's on the slide word for word; don't put too much on there that we can't read it all before you go to the next slide; don't write out information when you could put it in a table or chart format; don't use too many pictures; and don't use those silly sound effects unless you're surrounded by 8 year-olds.
2. I hate, hate, hate to have things lying around--especially if they are around my house. It bothers me to see toys thrown everywhere after playtime just as much as it bothers me to see clean pots and pans sitting out on the counter top--and don't get me started on socks or piles of papers with no home. My motto (which happens to coincide with the Montessori one) is that there is a place for everything so everything should be in its place.
3. I have to eat small things in pairs. For example: grapes, Cheerios, almonds, raisins must all be eaten in pairs. If I am only given one, I will bite it in half so I can have a pair. If it is too small to be halved, I won't take it.
4. I can't go to bed without brushing my teeth. It just seems gross. No matter how late it is or how tired I am, I brush my teeth.
5. I find it insulting that anyone would smoke, drink excessively or swear around my child. Of course, I was gravely insulted many times during Mardi Gras and I bit my tongue. I honestly don't remember so many people smoking when I lived in NOLA. As for us, Gusi does see us having a beer or wine every now and then but nothing ever extreme and we certainly don't smoke. A swear word will escape once in a while (like when we stub our toe) but it is rare and we always apologize to each other and to Gusi.
6. Even though I grill the staff working in the gym nursery (I've gone to several over the last few weeks trying to find the perfect gym) on all questions related to hygiene, sanitation, infant CPR and child development, I know that there is NO WAY I will leave my child with them. I should save my time and theirs but it's good to see how much supposed caretakers really know.
I don't think the reverend dr. esq has done this meme, so I tag her.
Here I go.
1. I get immensely irritated by bad PowerPoint presentations. I want to halt the entire fiasco that's about to happen, take the speaker aside and tell them to redo their slides. Don't read what's on the slide word for word; don't put too much on there that we can't read it all before you go to the next slide; don't write out information when you could put it in a table or chart format; don't use too many pictures; and don't use those silly sound effects unless you're surrounded by 8 year-olds.
2. I hate, hate, hate to have things lying around--especially if they are around my house. It bothers me to see toys thrown everywhere after playtime just as much as it bothers me to see clean pots and pans sitting out on the counter top--and don't get me started on socks or piles of papers with no home. My motto (which happens to coincide with the Montessori one) is that there is a place for everything so everything should be in its place.
3. I have to eat small things in pairs. For example: grapes, Cheerios, almonds, raisins must all be eaten in pairs. If I am only given one, I will bite it in half so I can have a pair. If it is too small to be halved, I won't take it.
4. I can't go to bed without brushing my teeth. It just seems gross. No matter how late it is or how tired I am, I brush my teeth.
5. I find it insulting that anyone would smoke, drink excessively or swear around my child. Of course, I was gravely insulted many times during Mardi Gras and I bit my tongue. I honestly don't remember so many people smoking when I lived in NOLA. As for us, Gusi does see us having a beer or wine every now and then but nothing ever extreme and we certainly don't smoke. A swear word will escape once in a while (like when we stub our toe) but it is rare and we always apologize to each other and to Gusi.
6. Even though I grill the staff working in the gym nursery (I've gone to several over the last few weeks trying to find the perfect gym) on all questions related to hygiene, sanitation, infant CPR and child development, I know that there is NO WAY I will leave my child with them. I should save my time and theirs but it's good to see how much supposed caretakers really know.
I don't think the reverend dr. esq has done this meme, so I tag her.
Friday, February 23, 2007
Do You Know What It Means...
to miss New Orleans and miss it each night and day... (Louis Armstrong & Billie Holiday, 1947)
When PapaGus and I found out we were expecting, we were thrilled, but secretly I worried that our child would not be born and raised in my native city. How could childhood be joyful under these circumstances? No Mississippi River mud to wiggle his toes in, no Lake Pontchartrain crabs to fish out, no ancient, giant oak trees covered in Spanish moss to climb. What kind of childhood is that? Alas, somehow our son has managed to thrive despite this shortcoming. Yet, I still felt a need to expose my son, starting as young as possible, to as much of New Orleans' beauty as I could. And that I did for five glorious days recently. Did I mention those days happened to coincide with Mardi Gras? Yes, PapaGus, Gusi, my mom and I all drove to New Orleans so PapaGus and Gusi could enjoy a proper carnival--debauchery, plastic trinkets and all.
There were so many moments during those days that were great and some that were heart wrenching. Here are some snippets of how it went.
"Tissue paper's a laxative, right?"
PapaGus on our car ride to NOLA
We did start out early enough and with good weather. The car was stocked with food and drinks for adults and infants. The overall travel karma was good, or so I thought. Until, of course, Gusi started to get bored. I can't blame the child. Who likes being belted down for hours on end with only a finger's width of space between you and your chest straps? So, my mother (God bless her) was brave enough to sit in the back for the first leg of the journey. She tickled, she laughed, she even bought him toys, all to keep the child entertained. He did incredibly well, yet he did have his moments. And in those moments the whole car got tense. It was by mere chance that she remembered how much he loved waving around tissue papers. (I always keep a box of disposable tissues in my car and it has come in quite handy with the little one.) So, she started waving one around and then gave it to him. She would then move on to another item and when things got rough again, back to the box of disposable tissues. He does, of course, manage to eat little pieces here and there and our car ride was no different. How much he ate is any body's guess, but it did provoke quite a reaction. I thought that since Gusi hadn't pooped before leaving we might have to pull over at some point to change his diaper. Well, he did and we did and I thought that we were good to go until the evening. Midway through our trip my husband moved to the back seat with Gusi and my mom was up front with me. And another one of those points came up and his diaper was changed. Then when we stopped for lunch, again. And again and maybe even again. Maybe it was the excitement of finally going to NOLA--something I had been preparing him for for weeks--or maybe it was the tissues. We'll never know.
"I can't believe it's gone."
Me on Saturday as we drove around our old neighborhood.
The last time I was in NOLA was to celebrate my husband's birthday, just about two weeks before Hurricane Katrina hit. It was his first time to the Big Easy and he loved every minute of it. So when we saw all the devastating images in the weeks after, it became too much to handle. My mom had gone back and seen what the city and our community looked like but I hadn't. As I drove around I became incredibly sad. The first house I had ever lived in--the one that I went to when I came home from the hospital--was GONE. Mom said that it had been there last time she was in town, but it was most definitely gone now. It had been demolished and nothing was left in its place except a swimming pool that hadn't existed when we were living there. Somehow I had pictured taking Gusi as a young boy, knocking on the door of my old home and being met by a stranger who would let us in so I could show my son where I had grown up. I would take him to my old room and show him the door frame that used to have all the ticks and dates his grandmother had put to mark my height over the years. Or perhaps the window I would poke my head out of when I heard the ice cream truck coming down the street. Or maybe even the garage that I had convinced myself was home to the real Charlotte of Charlotte's Web and not just regular, ol' yucky spiders. Those dreams disappeared instantly. I knew that I wouldn't see the same house, but I never expected that it wouldn't be there at all.
"I'm sorry your house is gone"
PapaGus on Saturday
He may not have thought it was much to say, but it meant a lot.
"Do you want me to go look for daiquiris?"
PapaGus on several occasions over the weekend.
My husband is so wonderful. He knew that we were there to have fun, to contribute to the local economy and he would scavenge high and low to make sure I got my Happy Mardi Gras despite feeling overwhelmed by seeing the ruins left by Katrina.
"That's a sissy drink."
My mom talking about her friend's Gin fizz at Arnaud's Sunday Jazz Brunch.
We stayed with some friends who have known my mom since adolescence--hers, not mine. They are Tia (aunt) and Tio (uncle) in the Latino sense that anyone who's seen you in diapers and is still in touch with you is officially a relative. My Tia, who went to school with my mom, married a great guy who became my Tio and they had my Prima (cousin) who is studying at L.S.U. now. They put us up and put up with us, so the least we could do was treat them to a nice brunch. Unfortunately, my Tio had to stake out the family spot on the neutral ground Uptown where we were to catch the parades so he couldn't make it. (For those wondering what a neutral ground is, it's the grassy or cement strip in the middle of the road. The terms "median" and/or "island" are NEVER used in New Orleans.) So when the five of us arrived (my Prima was with her college friends) at Arnaud's, they asked us to wait at the bar while they prepared our table. We ordered some cocktails and then took our seats. My mom got an Irish coffee, PapaGus and I shared a bloody Mary and Tia got a Gin Fizz. She kept going on about how delicious it was and let us all try. It tasted a bit like foamy air to me, but I prefer a bloody Mary with my New Orleans jazz. PapaGus tried it and didn't say anything either. Then my mom tried it, and perhaps it was the Irish coffee talking, but she let her feelings be known.
"If our son likes girls in sequins and velvet, I'll know where it came from."
Me to PapaGus on Lundi Gras.
We saw so many parades and with parades come flambeaux, marching bands, baton girls, flag girls, dancing girls and a whole lot more. Most of the girls walk for miles along the parade route in these teeny, tiny outfits that are decorated with sequins. Nowadays many schools have changed the bodices from lycra to velvet. How warm can a velvet bathing suit be? That's about as much as their outfits cover. OK, maybe the long sleeves help some, but it can't be that much. In any case, Gusi was mesmerized by the girls and the marching bands. He couldn't take his eyes off of them.
"Does it look like I want more plastic?"
Me on Mardi Gras, our last day of carnival revelry
PapaGus wanted to see one last parade and he convinced my mom and I that Gusi also wanted to. So, for "the boys" we went ahead and marched back to our same hang out, saw our friends and saw most of Rex. We had already collected four garbage bags worth of throws but somehow PapaGus and Gusi felt it wasn't enough. By this point Gusi had learned how to stretch out his arm and shout when the floats went by; he screamed so much that he went hoarse during our stay. He can be happy that it paid off because we now have a house full of plastic beads, frisbees, stuffed animals of all sorts (including a little puppy thrown by Harry Connick, Jr. HIMSELF to our little Gusi) and even some doubloons.
It was the first of what will hopefully be many trips back to my slowly recovering home town. The good news is that Gusi is learning to love it just as much as I do and PapaGus already does. Perhaps Jazz Fest is the next pilgrimage?
When PapaGus and I found out we were expecting, we were thrilled, but secretly I worried that our child would not be born and raised in my native city. How could childhood be joyful under these circumstances? No Mississippi River mud to wiggle his toes in, no Lake Pontchartrain crabs to fish out, no ancient, giant oak trees covered in Spanish moss to climb. What kind of childhood is that? Alas, somehow our son has managed to thrive despite this shortcoming. Yet, I still felt a need to expose my son, starting as young as possible, to as much of New Orleans' beauty as I could. And that I did for five glorious days recently. Did I mention those days happened to coincide with Mardi Gras? Yes, PapaGus, Gusi, my mom and I all drove to New Orleans so PapaGus and Gusi could enjoy a proper carnival--debauchery, plastic trinkets and all.
There were so many moments during those days that were great and some that were heart wrenching. Here are some snippets of how it went.
"Tissue paper's a laxative, right?"
PapaGus on our car ride to NOLA
We did start out early enough and with good weather. The car was stocked with food and drinks for adults and infants. The overall travel karma was good, or so I thought. Until, of course, Gusi started to get bored. I can't blame the child. Who likes being belted down for hours on end with only a finger's width of space between you and your chest straps? So, my mother (God bless her) was brave enough to sit in the back for the first leg of the journey. She tickled, she laughed, she even bought him toys, all to keep the child entertained. He did incredibly well, yet he did have his moments. And in those moments the whole car got tense. It was by mere chance that she remembered how much he loved waving around tissue papers. (I always keep a box of disposable tissues in my car and it has come in quite handy with the little one.) So, she started waving one around and then gave it to him. She would then move on to another item and when things got rough again, back to the box of disposable tissues. He does, of course, manage to eat little pieces here and there and our car ride was no different. How much he ate is any body's guess, but it did provoke quite a reaction. I thought that since Gusi hadn't pooped before leaving we might have to pull over at some point to change his diaper. Well, he did and we did and I thought that we were good to go until the evening. Midway through our trip my husband moved to the back seat with Gusi and my mom was up front with me. And another one of those points came up and his diaper was changed. Then when we stopped for lunch, again. And again and maybe even again. Maybe it was the excitement of finally going to NOLA--something I had been preparing him for for weeks--or maybe it was the tissues. We'll never know.
"I can't believe it's gone."
Me on Saturday as we drove around our old neighborhood.
The last time I was in NOLA was to celebrate my husband's birthday, just about two weeks before Hurricane Katrina hit. It was his first time to the Big Easy and he loved every minute of it. So when we saw all the devastating images in the weeks after, it became too much to handle. My mom had gone back and seen what the city and our community looked like but I hadn't. As I drove around I became incredibly sad. The first house I had ever lived in--the one that I went to when I came home from the hospital--was GONE. Mom said that it had been there last time she was in town, but it was most definitely gone now. It had been demolished and nothing was left in its place except a swimming pool that hadn't existed when we were living there. Somehow I had pictured taking Gusi as a young boy, knocking on the door of my old home and being met by a stranger who would let us in so I could show my son where I had grown up. I would take him to my old room and show him the door frame that used to have all the ticks and dates his grandmother had put to mark my height over the years. Or perhaps the window I would poke my head out of when I heard the ice cream truck coming down the street. Or maybe even the garage that I had convinced myself was home to the real Charlotte of Charlotte's Web and not just regular, ol' yucky spiders. Those dreams disappeared instantly. I knew that I wouldn't see the same house, but I never expected that it wouldn't be there at all.
"I'm sorry your house is gone"
PapaGus on Saturday
He may not have thought it was much to say, but it meant a lot.
"Do you want me to go look for daiquiris?"
PapaGus on several occasions over the weekend.
My husband is so wonderful. He knew that we were there to have fun, to contribute to the local economy and he would scavenge high and low to make sure I got my Happy Mardi Gras despite feeling overwhelmed by seeing the ruins left by Katrina.
"That's a sissy drink."
My mom talking about her friend's Gin fizz at Arnaud's Sunday Jazz Brunch.
We stayed with some friends who have known my mom since adolescence--hers, not mine. They are Tia (aunt) and Tio (uncle) in the Latino sense that anyone who's seen you in diapers and is still in touch with you is officially a relative. My Tia, who went to school with my mom, married a great guy who became my Tio and they had my Prima (cousin) who is studying at L.S.U. now. They put us up and put up with us, so the least we could do was treat them to a nice brunch. Unfortunately, my Tio had to stake out the family spot on the neutral ground Uptown where we were to catch the parades so he couldn't make it. (For those wondering what a neutral ground is, it's the grassy or cement strip in the middle of the road. The terms "median" and/or "island" are NEVER used in New Orleans.) So when the five of us arrived (my Prima was with her college friends) at Arnaud's, they asked us to wait at the bar while they prepared our table. We ordered some cocktails and then took our seats. My mom got an Irish coffee, PapaGus and I shared a bloody Mary and Tia got a Gin Fizz. She kept going on about how delicious it was and let us all try. It tasted a bit like foamy air to me, but I prefer a bloody Mary with my New Orleans jazz. PapaGus tried it and didn't say anything either. Then my mom tried it, and perhaps it was the Irish coffee talking, but she let her feelings be known.
"If our son likes girls in sequins and velvet, I'll know where it came from."
Me to PapaGus on Lundi Gras.
We saw so many parades and with parades come flambeaux, marching bands, baton girls, flag girls, dancing girls and a whole lot more. Most of the girls walk for miles along the parade route in these teeny, tiny outfits that are decorated with sequins. Nowadays many schools have changed the bodices from lycra to velvet. How warm can a velvet bathing suit be? That's about as much as their outfits cover. OK, maybe the long sleeves help some, but it can't be that much. In any case, Gusi was mesmerized by the girls and the marching bands. He couldn't take his eyes off of them.
"Does it look like I want more plastic?"
Me on Mardi Gras, our last day of carnival revelry
PapaGus wanted to see one last parade and he convinced my mom and I that Gusi also wanted to. So, for "the boys" we went ahead and marched back to our same hang out, saw our friends and saw most of Rex. We had already collected four garbage bags worth of throws but somehow PapaGus and Gusi felt it wasn't enough. By this point Gusi had learned how to stretch out his arm and shout when the floats went by; he screamed so much that he went hoarse during our stay. He can be happy that it paid off because we now have a house full of plastic beads, frisbees, stuffed animals of all sorts (including a little puppy thrown by Harry Connick, Jr. HIMSELF to our little Gusi) and even some doubloons.
It was the first of what will hopefully be many trips back to my slowly recovering home town. The good news is that Gusi is learning to love it just as much as I do and PapaGus already does. Perhaps Jazz Fest is the next pilgrimage?
Thursday, February 15, 2007
It Seemed Like a Good Idea at the Time
At 3pm it is easy for an adult to unlock the childproof toilet bowl locks. At 3am it is not, especially if the background noise is a wailing child.
Wednesday, February 14, 2007
Gusi Jeopardy
When I was a kid I loved coming home and watching cartoons--three of them to be exact--before doing my homework. I actually convinced my mom that they were a necessary part of brain relaxation after a long day at school before delving into more brain activity called homework. (This from a first grader! I'm in trouble if Gusi follows in my footsteps.)
As I grew older the cartoons gave way to game shows. One of my favorites was "Jeopardy", and not just the every day, run of the mill shows but the special episodes for elementary school students, high school students and college students. The questions were all geared toward what they knew (or were supposed to know) so they all usually got a chance to score.
So, in my day dreaming state that long stop lights usually provoke, I thought, how great would it be to have a special episode just for moms! I, of course, would be one of the three contestants--it's my day dream after all--and I would be at Sony Entertainment Studios in Culver City waiting for my big break.
After the brief introductions the show would begin.
Alex: MamaGus, you have control of the board.
Me: Thanks Alex. I'll take the "Gusi Habits" category for $100 please.
Alex: The toilet bowl brush.
Me: (Buzz) What is Gusi's new walking stick to be used around the house?
Alex: You are correct!
Alex: Select again.
Me: "Gusi Habits" for $200 please Alex.
Alex: Dirty dish towels.
Me: (Buzz) What is Gusi's favorite thing to hide under when playing Peek-a-Boo?
Alex: Correct again!
Alex: Select again.
Me: "Gusi Habits" for $300 please Alex.
Alex: The door bell.
Me: (Buzz) What does Gusi need to ring every time, at least once, when either entering or exiting the house?
Alex: Correct MamaGus!
Alex: Select again.
Me: "Gusi Habits" for $400 please Alex.
Alex: Because he uses the water to wash his hands.
Me: (Buzz) Why do I need to get a toilet bowl lock?
Alex: Correct again
Alex: Would you like to finish out the category MamaGus?
Me: Yes, please, Alex.
Alex: "Gusi Habits" for $500...because he is teething.
Me: (Buzz) Why do I have dark circles under my eyes this week?
Alex: Correct! You swept through the entire category, congratulations!
As I grew older the cartoons gave way to game shows. One of my favorites was "Jeopardy", and not just the every day, run of the mill shows but the special episodes for elementary school students, high school students and college students. The questions were all geared toward what they knew (or were supposed to know) so they all usually got a chance to score.
So, in my day dreaming state that long stop lights usually provoke, I thought, how great would it be to have a special episode just for moms! I, of course, would be one of the three contestants--it's my day dream after all--and I would be at Sony Entertainment Studios in Culver City waiting for my big break.
After the brief introductions the show would begin.
Alex: MamaGus, you have control of the board.
Me: Thanks Alex. I'll take the "Gusi Habits" category for $100 please.
Alex: The toilet bowl brush.
Me: (Buzz) What is Gusi's new walking stick to be used around the house?
Alex: You are correct!
Alex: Select again.
Me: "Gusi Habits" for $200 please Alex.
Alex: Dirty dish towels.
Me: (Buzz) What is Gusi's favorite thing to hide under when playing Peek-a-Boo?
Alex: Correct again!
Alex: Select again.
Me: "Gusi Habits" for $300 please Alex.
Alex: The door bell.
Me: (Buzz) What does Gusi need to ring every time, at least once, when either entering or exiting the house?
Alex: Correct MamaGus!
Alex: Select again.
Me: "Gusi Habits" for $400 please Alex.
Alex: Because he uses the water to wash his hands.
Me: (Buzz) Why do I need to get a toilet bowl lock?
Alex: Correct again
Alex: Would you like to finish out the category MamaGus?
Me: Yes, please, Alex.
Alex: "Gusi Habits" for $500...because he is teething.
Me: (Buzz) Why do I have dark circles under my eyes this week?
Alex: Correct! You swept through the entire category, congratulations!
Tuesday, February 13, 2007
I Smell Poop and Other Loving Words
Now, I really love my husband. He's great and we've created this wonderful little person that has bonded us together for the rest of eternity and that's "big stuff". But never in my wildest dreams did I imagine that I'd be having so many conversations about poop with this man. It is not exactly pillow talk if you know what I mean.
When Gusi was born it was all about: has he pooped? It was such an effort for the little guy that it seemed like a big accomplishment if he did. When he started solid foods it was: ugh, did you see what was in his diaper? I would cringe when he pooped while we were out and about since others might think it was ME! who made that terrible odor. And now that he's a total pro at eating solids (and those meats WILL have an effect on a child's bowels), our conversation often begins: I smell poop. We each know what the other means and it's not like we're doing rock, paper, scissors to get out of changing his diaper, but it has become our mantra almost. The "I love you" phrases are still there, but boy oh boy it is in close competition with "I smell poop" in so far as frequency.
A friend told me that she often casually sniffs her daughter's bottom while in public to see if anything is in the diaper. I can understand trying to be discreet but sometimes it is just too obvious to me; that's when I utter to my husband those loving words: I smell poop. And it's something that you can't turn off--your nose just knows. I think to myself, what on earth did my husband and I talk about before? And then I remember, oh yeah, we talked about ourselves!!! And now? Now we talk about bowel movements as if we were writing a book on the subject. We can talk about when we suspect it has happened, while we're out on a date as a recap to the day's events, and yes, even during meals.
So where does this leave PapaGus and I? Well, talking about our favorite subject: our son. Romance isn't dead, it's just enriched in a way that I never expected yet still treasure.
To my husband I say: "Sweetie, I smell poop, and to show you how much I truly love you I'll change the diaper." :)
When Gusi was born it was all about: has he pooped? It was such an effort for the little guy that it seemed like a big accomplishment if he did. When he started solid foods it was: ugh, did you see what was in his diaper? I would cringe when he pooped while we were out and about since others might think it was ME! who made that terrible odor. And now that he's a total pro at eating solids (and those meats WILL have an effect on a child's bowels), our conversation often begins: I smell poop. We each know what the other means and it's not like we're doing rock, paper, scissors to get out of changing his diaper, but it has become our mantra almost. The "I love you" phrases are still there, but boy oh boy it is in close competition with "I smell poop" in so far as frequency.
A friend told me that she often casually sniffs her daughter's bottom while in public to see if anything is in the diaper. I can understand trying to be discreet but sometimes it is just too obvious to me; that's when I utter to my husband those loving words: I smell poop. And it's something that you can't turn off--your nose just knows. I think to myself, what on earth did my husband and I talk about before? And then I remember, oh yeah, we talked about ourselves!!! And now? Now we talk about bowel movements as if we were writing a book on the subject. We can talk about when we suspect it has happened, while we're out on a date as a recap to the day's events, and yes, even during meals.
So where does this leave PapaGus and I? Well, talking about our favorite subject: our son. Romance isn't dead, it's just enriched in a way that I never expected yet still treasure.
To my husband I say: "Sweetie, I smell poop, and to show you how much I truly love you I'll change the diaper." :)
Monday, February 12, 2007
...and Seven and Eight
This weekend my suspicions were confirmed. Gusi is getting more teeth, two to be exact. He has been drooling for weeks now and the runny nose has not stopped either. I tried everything--put the humidifier in his room, applied baby Vicks to his chest before bedtime, elevated one side of his crib mattress by putting a towel underneath it--and nothing worked. My conclusion: it's the teeth. My husband said that he hadn't seen anything, but since Friday I've seen the tiny slits in his gum line start to grow ever so slightly. He's miserable, crabby and can't stand to have me stick my fingers in his mouth. What's worse is that he's already got six teeth, so when I venture in there I really have to be careful.
It is just horrible to see him in pain, but the icing on the cake is his waking up in the middle of the night because his gums hurt (though we do offer pain relief to him just before bed time in the form of nasty tasting medicine). Our morning conversations have gone something like this:
Me: How long were you up with him last night?
PapaGus: Which time?
Me: Well, at 11pm, because I was with him at 2am.
PapaGus: No, I was with him at 2am and then again just before 5am.
Me: No, I was with him at 2am.
PapaGus: Maybe I was up with him at 2am the night before then?
Me: Perhaps, or maybe I'm the one getting confused.
PapaGus: Anyway, I was up for 45 minutes with him.
Me: Which time?
PapaGus: We need more sleep.
Me: You and I are in agreement, it's just Gusi who's not on the same page as us.
Of course, he gets to nap during the day so even though he may not sleep well at night, he can catch some zzzzs. I am faced with a daily dilemma: use nap time to get things done or nap myself. My thoughts usually go something like this when nap time comes around on those days that he's teething and I haven't had a good night's sleep:
-I just put him down so let me take a cat nap too, right after I go to the bathroom
-Hmm, but we need another roll of toilet paper in our bathroom, let me go take care of that
-Oh, and I forgot to clean up after him after his meal, let me do that too
-OK, since I'm close to the laundry room, let me just throw a load in the washer
-Hmm, we're almost out of detergent, let me put that on my grocery list to pick up next time
-Where are the post-it notes?
-Search kitchen, bedroom and home office
-Found them...put down detergent...I might as well see what else we need from the fridge and make a thorough list
-Notice that all of these bottles for recycling are taking up too much counter space, let me just drop it in the bin outside...after I rinse them all out
-FINALLY remember that I need to go to the bathroom, really, really bad at this point, so I go to the bathroom
-Wash hands
-My hands are dry, but where's the lotion I like?
-Search for the lotion...
-Etc, etc, etc
It is just horrible to see him in pain, but the icing on the cake is his waking up in the middle of the night because his gums hurt (though we do offer pain relief to him just before bed time in the form of nasty tasting medicine). Our morning conversations have gone something like this:
Me: How long were you up with him last night?
PapaGus: Which time?
Me: Well, at 11pm, because I was with him at 2am.
PapaGus: No, I was with him at 2am and then again just before 5am.
Me: No, I was with him at 2am.
PapaGus: Maybe I was up with him at 2am the night before then?
Me: Perhaps, or maybe I'm the one getting confused.
PapaGus: Anyway, I was up for 45 minutes with him.
Me: Which time?
PapaGus: We need more sleep.
Me: You and I are in agreement, it's just Gusi who's not on the same page as us.
Of course, he gets to nap during the day so even though he may not sleep well at night, he can catch some zzzzs. I am faced with a daily dilemma: use nap time to get things done or nap myself. My thoughts usually go something like this when nap time comes around on those days that he's teething and I haven't had a good night's sleep:
-I just put him down so let me take a cat nap too, right after I go to the bathroom
-Hmm, but we need another roll of toilet paper in our bathroom, let me go take care of that
-Oh, and I forgot to clean up after him after his meal, let me do that too
-OK, since I'm close to the laundry room, let me just throw a load in the washer
-Hmm, we're almost out of detergent, let me put that on my grocery list to pick up next time
-Where are the post-it notes?
-Search kitchen, bedroom and home office
-Found them...put down detergent...I might as well see what else we need from the fridge and make a thorough list
-Notice that all of these bottles for recycling are taking up too much counter space, let me just drop it in the bin outside...after I rinse them all out
-FINALLY remember that I need to go to the bathroom, really, really bad at this point, so I go to the bathroom
-Wash hands
-My hands are dry, but where's the lotion I like?
-Search for the lotion...
-Etc, etc, etc
Saturday, February 10, 2007
Snip snip
Gusi got his first hair cut today. I know, I know...it's not exactly like he's got Rapunzel hair, but the little bit that he does have was growing quite long. The length was more of an issue for me at mealtimes since so much food ends up in his hair regardless of what I do to prevent it. If it's short then there's less goop to deal with. Besides, the lady just trimmed it up around his neck line and around his forehead. He sat in Papa's lap and played with a toy while they snipped. Every now and then Gusi would turn to the lady that was combing his hair to see what she was doing but not enough to impede the process.
I remember being a young girl and seeing the look on my grandmother's face when she pulled out a special box with four small cloth bundles. She opened each bundle to show me the first locks of hair that had been cut from each of her children. I now have locks of my son's hair in a tiny plastic bag labeled with his name and the date; perhaps one day I'll have the opportunity to do the same with my grandchildren.
I remember being a young girl and seeing the look on my grandmother's face when she pulled out a special box with four small cloth bundles. She opened each bundle to show me the first locks of hair that had been cut from each of her children. I now have locks of my son's hair in a tiny plastic bag labeled with his name and the date; perhaps one day I'll have the opportunity to do the same with my grandchildren.
Friday, February 9, 2007
Pointers on buttons
Gusi is now into pointing. He'll point at the ceiling, the lamps, the doorway--anything really--and babble. Not only does he grasp the concept of pointing at something, but now he is learning to look where you point instead of just looking at your finger. It's quite amazing to see these changes occurring.
He is also getting good at pushing with his pointer finger. And to boot, both index fingers are being used. One of his favorite board books "The Very Hungry Caterpillar" has holes cut out in the pages where the caterpillar has eaten--just the right size to poke his tiny fingers through. He pokes one finger in, then changes hands so his other finger gets a try. It makes story time more fun for him I suppose.
Gusi's real joy though is pushing buttons. One of his favorites are the buttons on the humidifier in his room. He now knows which button to push to turn on the humidifier. I suspect he may even know how to use the timer which I still haven't bothered to figure out.
When given the rare opportunity to crawl around in our home office he'll jump at the chance to push the buttons on the printer. It's at just the right height so that he can either sit or stand and push the buttons. While the humidifier buttons make noise, the printer buttons make a little screen light up and that makes them much more enticing.
But I'd have to say that his most favorite button of all is his Papa's belly button. I untucked my husband's t-shirt once and showed it to Gusi and now when he gets the chance he looks for his Papa's belly button. It's deep and a bit hairy--very intriguing for Gusi. The best part of all is when pushed, PapaGus laughs which makes all of us laugh...much better than a Tickle-me-Elmo doll.
He is also getting good at pushing with his pointer finger. And to boot, both index fingers are being used. One of his favorite board books "The Very Hungry Caterpillar" has holes cut out in the pages where the caterpillar has eaten--just the right size to poke his tiny fingers through. He pokes one finger in, then changes hands so his other finger gets a try. It makes story time more fun for him I suppose.
Gusi's real joy though is pushing buttons. One of his favorites are the buttons on the humidifier in his room. He now knows which button to push to turn on the humidifier. I suspect he may even know how to use the timer which I still haven't bothered to figure out.
When given the rare opportunity to crawl around in our home office he'll jump at the chance to push the buttons on the printer. It's at just the right height so that he can either sit or stand and push the buttons. While the humidifier buttons make noise, the printer buttons make a little screen light up and that makes them much more enticing.
But I'd have to say that his most favorite button of all is his Papa's belly button. I untucked my husband's t-shirt once and showed it to Gusi and now when he gets the chance he looks for his Papa's belly button. It's deep and a bit hairy--very intriguing for Gusi. The best part of all is when pushed, PapaGus laughs which makes all of us laugh...much better than a Tickle-me-Elmo doll.
Thursday, February 8, 2007
Teriyaki Lima Beans
I had an Iron Chef moment today. Gusi woke up from his nap and was, of course, hungry. I swiftly, but gently, put him in his chair and proceeded to throw open the refrigerator doors. Defrosted chicken was available as was teriyaki sauce, but what about those 6 to 8 servings of fruits and vegetables he needs? Or is it 6 to 8 oz? Or perhaps 6.8 oz? In any case, the boy needs his veggies. I scanned the freezer in search of the "Asian Veg Medley" that I thought was there. Instead I found a partially used bag of "Mixed Veggies" which would have to do. I threw some cereal puffs his way to warm up the jaw muscles and began the show. I could feel the clock ticking to the time of the crunching puffs. As I poured in the frozen veggies I noticed that in addition to peas, carrots and corn there were lima beans in the mix. Ugh. How would that go over with the bottled teriyaki sauce? I just couldn't see myself at a restaurant asking the waiter: "Do you recommend the teriyaki lima beans? They look very appetizing." But then again, Gusi doesn't have the pleasure of having had teriyaki before and he did like the lima beans last time he had them.
When I finally plated up his lunch special he was starving. We started with the chicken--something he knows and likes--then moved our way to the peas, corn, carrots and finally lima beans. Not a wince from the child, not one. Was he so hungry that he could care less or did he really like Mama's impromptu preparations? Maybe both. He did chow down for quite a while and even though he would do a double take at the lima beans, he ate every one I gave him. Eventually I knew that things were coming to an end when he would just suck the teriyaki juice off of the veggies and then spit them out. He ended up eating more chicken though...probably because it held the teriyaki sauce better than the veggies.
Dessert was a peach with the skin peeled off. Now Gusi prefers to use the six teeth that God gave him to bite on the fruit instead of being given little pieces. He busily chomped away on the half I was holding for him with much content. I read in one of those books that you're not supposed to give an infant any solid food that is larger than the size of their fingernail. Uh-huh, sure. I understand the need to be careful so they don't choke, but a screaming child who is hungry and refuses the mini morsels you have cut up is not one for dialogue. I figure the important part is to get healthy food in him without trauma, so I consider the meal a success on those standards.
Perhaps we'll have something simpler tomorrow...like a grilled cheese...with some tomatoes, even though they are technically a fruit. Hmm...perhaps lima beans go well with grilled cheese too.
When I finally plated up his lunch special he was starving. We started with the chicken--something he knows and likes--then moved our way to the peas, corn, carrots and finally lima beans. Not a wince from the child, not one. Was he so hungry that he could care less or did he really like Mama's impromptu preparations? Maybe both. He did chow down for quite a while and even though he would do a double take at the lima beans, he ate every one I gave him. Eventually I knew that things were coming to an end when he would just suck the teriyaki juice off of the veggies and then spit them out. He ended up eating more chicken though...probably because it held the teriyaki sauce better than the veggies.
Dessert was a peach with the skin peeled off. Now Gusi prefers to use the six teeth that God gave him to bite on the fruit instead of being given little pieces. He busily chomped away on the half I was holding for him with much content. I read in one of those books that you're not supposed to give an infant any solid food that is larger than the size of their fingernail. Uh-huh, sure. I understand the need to be careful so they don't choke, but a screaming child who is hungry and refuses the mini morsels you have cut up is not one for dialogue. I figure the important part is to get healthy food in him without trauma, so I consider the meal a success on those standards.
Perhaps we'll have something simpler tomorrow...like a grilled cheese...with some tomatoes, even though they are technically a fruit. Hmm...perhaps lima beans go well with grilled cheese too.
Getting that Cagey Feeling
I suppose that as my first entry I should write about why I want or feel the need to blog. Instead I'll just say that it is cold, grey and a bit on the miserable side out there. I could go out and pretend to enjoy myself or I could start a blog while Gusi sleeps. He does, after all, dictate when I sleep, eat or do anything of importance.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)