Thursday, August 31, 2006
Wednesday, August 30, 2006
From the Portfolio of our Budding Young Artist
On a normal day, I feed Reilly breakfast and then head out to Lake Seminole Park to visit the playground there. If we are lucky, we’ll run in to Samantha, a four-year-old who has made friends with Reilly.
The last time they played together, Samantha showed Reilly how to put mulch in her pocket, and how to go down the big kid’s slide. I am always surprised at the moxie that Reilly displays when approaching a tall slide. She’s positively fearless (which is not necessarily a good thing).
Later, Samantha invited Reilly to ride the purple dinosaur with her, and then after a snack of pretzels and some time on the swings, it was time to head home for lunch and a nap. Samantha gave Reilly a hug and a kiss, and then as we walked away, Samantha yelled, “Bwye Weilly!” every few steps.
On a day like today, when Tropical Storm Ernesto washes out any chance for outside time, I start to really miss the playground. Keeping Reilly inside is akin to caging a Tasmanian devil. As I write this, Reilly is rifling through her diaper bag, emptying it of its contents. A few moments ago, she was shrieking at the dog and then tackling her in a bear hug. Before that, she was trying to climb over the back of the couch.
To kill half an hour, and to restrain my wild child, we did some finger painting. In keeping with her fish theme, Reilly started with this painting, which I have titled, "Bear gets Salmon."
Soon, we ran out of room to dry her artwork,
The last time they played together, Samantha showed Reilly how to put mulch in her pocket, and how to go down the big kid’s slide. I am always surprised at the moxie that Reilly displays when approaching a tall slide. She’s positively fearless (which is not necessarily a good thing).
Later, Samantha invited Reilly to ride the purple dinosaur with her, and then after a snack of pretzels and some time on the swings, it was time to head home for lunch and a nap. Samantha gave Reilly a hug and a kiss, and then as we walked away, Samantha yelled, “Bwye Weilly!” every few steps.
On a day like today, when Tropical Storm Ernesto washes out any chance for outside time, I start to really miss the playground. Keeping Reilly inside is akin to caging a Tasmanian devil. As I write this, Reilly is rifling through her diaper bag, emptying it of its contents. A few moments ago, she was shrieking at the dog and then tackling her in a bear hug. Before that, she was trying to climb over the back of the couch.
To kill half an hour, and to restrain my wild child, we did some finger painting. In keeping with her fish theme, Reilly started with this painting, which I have titled, "Bear gets Salmon."
Her second painting, a quick little sketch, I titled, "Ernesto."
Soon, we ran out of room to dry her artwork,
so, we just fingerpainted right on the tray of the highchair.
We finished the session with a post-painting bath, which Reilly seemed to enjoy just as much as the fingerpainting itself.
Tuesday, August 29, 2006
From the Archives: August 30, 2002 - Age 26
The thing about a pedestrian city is that one is exposed to his environment. In yesterday’s case, I was unsheltered from the elements, and my eyes were unshielded from some homeless guy’s balls. Exposure has two effects: one, is that a person grows numb to otherwise significant events: drug deals, two men kissing, dog shit on the sidewalk. The other effect is tied in with the sun. Exposed to the sun for too long, skin will burn. With the sun, I can wear sunscreen. But there is no screen in The City—nothing to shield me.
Today as I walked down 6th Avenue, I came upon a scene: three people waving frantically in the street, flagging down a wailing ambulance. As I sped closer to them and the crowd that had gathered outside a restaurant, I was interested in the situation only in finding a path around it. Someone must have choked, or had a heart attack, I thought. Nevermind though, the scene didn’t interest me, and the stairs to the 14th Street subway station were on the other side of the crowd. I weaved through them.
At the bottom of the stairs was a cop crouching over a man in tattered clothing. Underneath the prone man was a dirty crutch. At the crown of his black head was a thick pool of blood the size of a dinner plate. I was on the third step when the numbness sloughed off and I became cognizant of what I was witnessing. The paramedics passed me as I backed up the steps.
At about 11:00p this evening, Brittany and Mike arrived. The six of us (Drew and Sara were there too) sat around and drank some wine and Sam and I swear we were all talking at once. A short time later we hit the street, walking down Bleecker to Mercer and then south until we arrived at Bar 89. In a rare move, the doorman loosened up with us, commenting on our two friends and their Georgia licenses. I forget the joke, but in the end we were all laughing as he ushered us in.
Since this is a holiday weekend many NYkers have left town, and for this reason we spent only 10 minutes at the bar before we were seated at a window table near the front. The boys settled in with their beers and the girls with their ‘Tini’s, and we just talked and talked—with occasional breaks in the conversation to visit the coolest bathrooms in The City. We celebrated the arrival of our friends with much good cheer and laughter; raising hell and turning heads to our little corner table. And with the arrival of my friends a flux of old memories flooded my brain, finally pushing out the image of the man at the bottom of the stairs.
Today as I walked down 6th Avenue, I came upon a scene: three people waving frantically in the street, flagging down a wailing ambulance. As I sped closer to them and the crowd that had gathered outside a restaurant, I was interested in the situation only in finding a path around it. Someone must have choked, or had a heart attack, I thought. Nevermind though, the scene didn’t interest me, and the stairs to the 14th Street subway station were on the other side of the crowd. I weaved through them.
At the bottom of the stairs was a cop crouching over a man in tattered clothing. Underneath the prone man was a dirty crutch. At the crown of his black head was a thick pool of blood the size of a dinner plate. I was on the third step when the numbness sloughed off and I became cognizant of what I was witnessing. The paramedics passed me as I backed up the steps.
At about 11:00p this evening, Brittany and Mike arrived. The six of us (Drew and Sara were there too) sat around and drank some wine and Sam and I swear we were all talking at once. A short time later we hit the street, walking down Bleecker to Mercer and then south until we arrived at Bar 89. In a rare move, the doorman loosened up with us, commenting on our two friends and their Georgia licenses. I forget the joke, but in the end we were all laughing as he ushered us in.
Since this is a holiday weekend many NYkers have left town, and for this reason we spent only 10 minutes at the bar before we were seated at a window table near the front. The boys settled in with their beers and the girls with their ‘Tini’s, and we just talked and talked—with occasional breaks in the conversation to visit the coolest bathrooms in The City. We celebrated the arrival of our friends with much good cheer and laughter; raising hell and turning heads to our little corner table. And with the arrival of my friends a flux of old memories flooded my brain, finally pushing out the image of the man at the bottom of the stairs.
Five more things you might not know about Reilly
1) Reilly’s eating habits continue to evolve. She now understands how to position a hard piece of food (like a pretzel) between her back molars in order to break it up. So, instead of sucking on the pretzel for five minutes in order to soften it up, she can now crunch away on her snack.
2) Reilly is also learning how take bites of her food, instead of stuffing the entire thing into her mouth. For example, yesterday I gave her a whole wheat hot dog bun to eat, and after taking a few bites, she then used her fingers to tear off smaller pieces to pop into her mouth.
3) When Reilly is done eating she will wave her hands back and forth while also wiggling her fingers. Though we never taught her sign language, this clearly means, “For the love of God, dad, please stop putting Cheerios on my tray!”
4) Reilly has been teaching herself to walk backward. She is very tentative, taking very small baby steps in reverse, one by one. Her learning how to walk backward has had the following two effects: One, she will make anything into a seat. She will sit on the dog, her toy piano, your foot, anything that happens to be in the path of her bum. Two, she will walk up to me, back up, and sit down in my lap to read a book, or to just have a little snuggle.
5) Reilly has learned how to ask for a bottle. If she is hungry for milk, she will walk over to the stove, pull on the handle, and say “Bot?” She chooses this location because the stove is directly below the microwave, which we use to heat up Reilly’s bottles (5oz for 30 seconds). I believe that this is the first real “conversation” Reilly has had with us.
Come to think of it, she also will go to the front door and say “Bye!” when she wants to go outside. This new ability to communicate with us has already cut down on the number of tears required to get through a day, and that is a development that is good for everyone.
2) Reilly is also learning how take bites of her food, instead of stuffing the entire thing into her mouth. For example, yesterday I gave her a whole wheat hot dog bun to eat, and after taking a few bites, she then used her fingers to tear off smaller pieces to pop into her mouth.
3) When Reilly is done eating she will wave her hands back and forth while also wiggling her fingers. Though we never taught her sign language, this clearly means, “For the love of God, dad, please stop putting Cheerios on my tray!”
4) Reilly has been teaching herself to walk backward. She is very tentative, taking very small baby steps in reverse, one by one. Her learning how to walk backward has had the following two effects: One, she will make anything into a seat. She will sit on the dog, her toy piano, your foot, anything that happens to be in the path of her bum. Two, she will walk up to me, back up, and sit down in my lap to read a book, or to just have a little snuggle.
5) Reilly has learned how to ask for a bottle. If she is hungry for milk, she will walk over to the stove, pull on the handle, and say “Bot?” She chooses this location because the stove is directly below the microwave, which we use to heat up Reilly’s bottles (5oz for 30 seconds). I believe that this is the first real “conversation” Reilly has had with us.
Come to think of it, she also will go to the front door and say “Bye!” when she wants to go outside. This new ability to communicate with us has already cut down on the number of tears required to get through a day, and that is a development that is good for everyone.
Monday, August 28, 2006
From the Archives: August 27, 2005 - Age 29
Shawn and Reilly flew home to Florida on Wednesday of this week, and will be gone through September 5th. I’ll join them on September 2nd for a quick trip home. The nine days that I’ll be apart from my wife are, without question, the longest time we’ve been apart since we were married. Obviously, this is also the longest period of time I’ve ever spent apart from my daughter.
As a boy, I did not mind spending time alone. I was shy, true, but I also had such an active imagination that I could fritter away hours by myself, absorbed in some daring rescue or swashbuckling adventure. A vestige of that old self remains. The first day Shawn was gone, I enjoyed a sort of euphoric freedom. I was emperor of the apartment, free to hang out in my boxers, have chips and beer, and flip between football, Sportscenter, and a Yankees game on TV. Yet with all that freedom, when it came time to go to bed, I found myself staring up at the ceiling, studying a crack in the plaster that snakes from the window to the kitchen.
When we first moved to The City, I remember returning home to our apartment on Ludlow Street and finding it surprisingly empty and quiet. What we were missing was our dog, Leia, who we had grown so accustomed to greeting us each time we set foot in our Tallahasee townhouse. Leia lives now with the Tewksbury’s, and is trying to get used to her new visitor—Reilly. (Shawn reports that Leia likes to lick her feet.) My second day alone left me with a similar sensation. For the last few weeks, I have rushed home from work, burst through the door of the apartment and announced, “Dad’s home!” Now, I linger at work a little longer, and walk a bit slower back from the subway, knowing that when I unlock the door, the only thing to greet me will be the hum of the air conditioner.
By the third day, a certain amount of longing had set in. I spent fifteen minutes at work forcing a co-worker to watch as I browsed through a few weeks of Reilly’s pictures. Later that day, I found myself humming the “Robbers Song,” a tune I made up one day when I was alone with Reilly for the first time. Shawn had been away from the apartment for a quick errand, and when Reilly would not stop crying, I began to panic, trying every position and nursery rhyme to cheer her up. Finally, I set her on my knees, and made up the “Robbers Song” on the spot. It goes a little something like this:
Verse 1 – (Jog baby’s legs)
You’ve gotta run, run, run, run from the robbers
Gotta run, run, run, run from the robbers
Gotta run
Gotta run
Verse 2 – (Jump baby’s legs)
You’ve gotta jump, jump, jump, jump from the robbers
Gotta jump, jump, jump, jump from the robbers
Gotta jump
Gotta jump
Verse 3 – (Grab baby with both hands around ribs)
And then the robbers catch us!
So…
Verse 4 – (Punch with baby’s fists)
You’ve gotta fight, fight, fight, fight with the robbers
Gotta fight, fight, fight, fight with the robbers
With a left and a right
You’ve gotta fight
Verse 5 – (Tickle baby’s face with fingers)
And then you chill…
The song kept Reilly calm for twenty minutes, until Shawn returned.
As I sit here in my apartment, remembering that day, I’d trade the quiet and calm of her absence for an hour of crying, just to get her back in my arms. I miss my girls.
Can you tell?
As a boy, I did not mind spending time alone. I was shy, true, but I also had such an active imagination that I could fritter away hours by myself, absorbed in some daring rescue or swashbuckling adventure. A vestige of that old self remains. The first day Shawn was gone, I enjoyed a sort of euphoric freedom. I was emperor of the apartment, free to hang out in my boxers, have chips and beer, and flip between football, Sportscenter, and a Yankees game on TV. Yet with all that freedom, when it came time to go to bed, I found myself staring up at the ceiling, studying a crack in the plaster that snakes from the window to the kitchen.
When we first moved to The City, I remember returning home to our apartment on Ludlow Street and finding it surprisingly empty and quiet. What we were missing was our dog, Leia, who we had grown so accustomed to greeting us each time we set foot in our Tallahasee townhouse. Leia lives now with the Tewksbury’s, and is trying to get used to her new visitor—Reilly. (Shawn reports that Leia likes to lick her feet.) My second day alone left me with a similar sensation. For the last few weeks, I have rushed home from work, burst through the door of the apartment and announced, “Dad’s home!” Now, I linger at work a little longer, and walk a bit slower back from the subway, knowing that when I unlock the door, the only thing to greet me will be the hum of the air conditioner.
By the third day, a certain amount of longing had set in. I spent fifteen minutes at work forcing a co-worker to watch as I browsed through a few weeks of Reilly’s pictures. Later that day, I found myself humming the “Robbers Song,” a tune I made up one day when I was alone with Reilly for the first time. Shawn had been away from the apartment for a quick errand, and when Reilly would not stop crying, I began to panic, trying every position and nursery rhyme to cheer her up. Finally, I set her on my knees, and made up the “Robbers Song” on the spot. It goes a little something like this:
Verse 1 – (Jog baby’s legs)
You’ve gotta run, run, run, run from the robbers
Gotta run, run, run, run from the robbers
Gotta run
Gotta run
Verse 2 – (Jump baby’s legs)
You’ve gotta jump, jump, jump, jump from the robbers
Gotta jump, jump, jump, jump from the robbers
Gotta jump
Gotta jump
Verse 3 – (Grab baby with both hands around ribs)
And then the robbers catch us!
So…
Verse 4 – (Punch with baby’s fists)
You’ve gotta fight, fight, fight, fight with the robbers
Gotta fight, fight, fight, fight with the robbers
With a left and a right
You’ve gotta fight
Verse 5 – (Tickle baby’s face with fingers)
And then you chill…
The song kept Reilly calm for twenty minutes, until Shawn returned.
As I sit here in my apartment, remembering that day, I’d trade the quiet and calm of her absence for an hour of crying, just to get her back in my arms. I miss my girls.
Can you tell?
Saturday, August 26, 2006
Friday, August 25, 2006
The Things She Carried
A few days ago, we went over to Papa Bear and Granny's house for Reilly's fourth celebration of her first birthday. (Spoiled much?) While we were there, Reilly had a fantastic time playing with her Aunt Morgan's doll stroller. So, in keeping with our rule to never buy pink plastic crappy toys for our daughter, I ran right out to Target and bought Reilly her own doll stroller.
Self-loathing aside, Reilly loves the thing. Though the stroller is not exactly a development toy, at least she walks around a lot with it and gets her exercise, which should help our daughter (who is already in the 4th percentile for weight) keep from getting fat.
First thing every morning, Reilly will wheel the empty stroller around the house, looking for items to add to the seat. It always interests me to see what she chooses to carry with her. In the photo below, you'll the results of Reilly's day-long process of filling the stroller. In the seat, you will find: a sippy cup, Harrison the teddy bear, a purple bath cup, two rubber ducks, 1/2 of a page from Parenting Magazine, a yellow plastic stacking ring, a spray nozzle for the hose outside, a magnet for the local pizzeria, and a black and silver pair of her mother's sandals.
She's a funny kid.
(For those astute readers who closely analyzed the photo below, yes--that is a rash on Reilly's face, most likely caused by the hummus I had given her for lunch.)
Self-loathing aside, Reilly loves the thing. Though the stroller is not exactly a development toy, at least she walks around a lot with it and gets her exercise, which should help our daughter (who is already in the 4th percentile for weight) keep from getting fat.
First thing every morning, Reilly will wheel the empty stroller around the house, looking for items to add to the seat. It always interests me to see what she chooses to carry with her. In the photo below, you'll the results of Reilly's day-long process of filling the stroller. In the seat, you will find: a sippy cup, Harrison the teddy bear, a purple bath cup, two rubber ducks, 1/2 of a page from Parenting Magazine, a yellow plastic stacking ring, a spray nozzle for the hose outside, a magnet for the local pizzeria, and a black and silver pair of her mother's sandals.
She's a funny kid.
(For those astute readers who closely analyzed the photo below, yes--that is a rash on Reilly's face, most likely caused by the hummus I had given her for lunch.)
Wednesday, August 23, 2006
Reilly's Lexicon
Every morning, I take Reilly to one of the local playgrounds to burn off some energy. Most of the time, we are the only two people there. Lately, however, I’ve been going to the Lake Seminole playground, where there are often other mothers and their charges.
Whenever I meet a mother at the playground, she will always ask the following three questions: “How old is she?” and “Is she walking yet?” and “What words does she know?” Regular readers of this blog will already know how old she is (13 months) and that she is walking (and quite well), but I realized that many will not know what words our daughter knows. So, here is Reilly’s lexicon, currently consisting of 12 words:
Hi
Bye
Thank you (pronounced “bay-doo”)
Elmo (pronounced “el-lo”)
Two (when prompted by the word “one”)
Bottle (pronounced “bot”)
Book
Duck
Bird (she calls most birds “duck” so Shawn has taught her the word “bird”)
Leia (our dog)
Numma-Numma (which is not really a word, but she says it to us when she is hungry)
Uh-oh!
Whenever I meet a mother at the playground, she will always ask the following three questions: “How old is she?” and “Is she walking yet?” and “What words does she know?” Regular readers of this blog will already know how old she is (13 months) and that she is walking (and quite well), but I realized that many will not know what words our daughter knows. So, here is Reilly’s lexicon, currently consisting of 12 words:
Hi
Bye
Thank you (pronounced “bay-doo”)
Elmo (pronounced “el-lo”)
Two (when prompted by the word “one”)
Bottle (pronounced “bot”)
Book
Duck
Bird (she calls most birds “duck” so Shawn has taught her the word “bird”)
Leia (our dog)
Numma-Numma (which is not really a word, but she says it to us when she is hungry)
Uh-oh!
Tuesday, August 22, 2006
Monday, August 21, 2006
Parenting
Yesterday evening, I overheard Shawn telling a story about Reilly to my father and my step-mother. Shawn was recounting a little scene that happened yesterday morning:
Reilly picked up a teddy bear from the den and dragged it by the ear to the living room, where she presented it to Shawn. Shawn took the bear and then put her finger through the thread loop that was sewn onto its head. She dangled the bear before Reilly. Reilly, upon seeing this neat trick, grabbed the stuffed animal back and put her own finger through the loop, then held the bear up so that Shawn could see. See mom, I’m just like you.
Shawn was telling my father and step-mother this story as an illustration of how aware these scenes make her feel. Reilly is watching us, and is learning from us, at nearly every moment. So often, I worry about not spending enough time reading to Reilly, or not playing constructively with her, when what I should worry about are the hundreds of other actions that make up my day, from my facial expressions to how I react to Reilly when she intentionally drops her sippy cup on the floor.
It’s funny; while being a parent becomes progressively easier as each day passes, the actual parenting becomes harder and harder.
Reilly picked up a teddy bear from the den and dragged it by the ear to the living room, where she presented it to Shawn. Shawn took the bear and then put her finger through the thread loop that was sewn onto its head. She dangled the bear before Reilly. Reilly, upon seeing this neat trick, grabbed the stuffed animal back and put her own finger through the loop, then held the bear up so that Shawn could see. See mom, I’m just like you.
Shawn was telling my father and step-mother this story as an illustration of how aware these scenes make her feel. Reilly is watching us, and is learning from us, at nearly every moment. So often, I worry about not spending enough time reading to Reilly, or not playing constructively with her, when what I should worry about are the hundreds of other actions that make up my day, from my facial expressions to how I react to Reilly when she intentionally drops her sippy cup on the floor.
It’s funny; while being a parent becomes progressively easier as each day passes, the actual parenting becomes harder and harder.
Sunday, August 20, 2006
From the Archives: August 20, 2005 - Age 29
This entry is from Reilly's sixth week. What interests me in this post is how we were beginning to introduce our daughter to the usual suspects we come across each day, and how, just a few weeks ago, these people were truly crushed to find out we were moving. (Yes, even the guy at the donut cart.)
Reilly loves to ride around town in her baby Bjorn. If she is awake, she will grasp onto Shawn’s shirt and just stare up at her mom. If our baby is sleepy, she will nestle down on Shawn’s chest and drowse away. Shawn has found this development to be quite wonderful. She started off making short, local trips around the neighborhood, but now Shawn will go most anywhere, from the post office on 4th Avenue and 10th Street to the MoMA in midtown.
Since we are outdoors all the time now, Reilly has been meeting all of her neighbors. This week she met the guy from my donut cart on 5th Avenue and 16th Street. I’d been talking to him about my new baby for a couple of weeks now, so he was thrilled to meet her. When I made my usual order of one plain donut, he put an extra one in the bag, and said, “I put another in there for your little girl.”
Reilly also made friends with the drycleaner, Mr. Park. He had been commenting on her little clothes for the past few weeks, “so small—and so many colors,” and asking when I would bring her in. Shawn walked with me to drop off our laundry one morning, and Mr. Park just lit up with excitement. He said, “She looks like her father.” I had to smile at that, as he is the only one who seems to think so!
Normally, on Sundays, we walk only on the north side of our street, to avoid the soup kitchen line that forms at the church across the street. However, with Reilly in tow, we have to avoid the sun, and since the shade was on the south side of the street, we had to make an exception. As we strolled by the many characters in front of the church, one of the men asked “New baby?” Shawn and I nodded and he said, “Well, God bless her!” We thanked him, and moved on.
At home there is the Old Monk, who always stops to look at Reilly and smile. He sits on the third floor in his chair, in the corner of the hallway. He spends his time there praying, and it is impossible to break his concentration. Shawn and I used to leave for work, tromp past him, and he would never blink an eye. But now, with Reilly, he will stop right in the middle of his prayer and get up to see our baby girl. In fact, the one time we left without her (my dad was babysitting) the monk said, “Where baby?” which is the most English he has ever spoken in our presence.
This week, Reilly has also continued her visual development. When she’s in her crib, she spends more time watching her mobile. In the past, she would only stare left or right, but now she looks up and follows the black and white objects as they circle above her. She also shows interest in the mobile on her swing.
My favorite visual moment this week was when I said goodbye to Reilly as I left for work Tuesday morning. As I walked away from her, she turned her head to follow me with her eyes.
Shawn’s favorite visual moment this week was when Reilly sat in her lap and looked at her Organic Style magazine for ten minutes. The picture we have of that moment is too cute, and is the attached photo of the week. Enjoy!
Reilly loves to ride around town in her baby Bjorn. If she is awake, she will grasp onto Shawn’s shirt and just stare up at her mom. If our baby is sleepy, she will nestle down on Shawn’s chest and drowse away. Shawn has found this development to be quite wonderful. She started off making short, local trips around the neighborhood, but now Shawn will go most anywhere, from the post office on 4th Avenue and 10th Street to the MoMA in midtown.
Since we are outdoors all the time now, Reilly has been meeting all of her neighbors. This week she met the guy from my donut cart on 5th Avenue and 16th Street. I’d been talking to him about my new baby for a couple of weeks now, so he was thrilled to meet her. When I made my usual order of one plain donut, he put an extra one in the bag, and said, “I put another in there for your little girl.”
Reilly also made friends with the drycleaner, Mr. Park. He had been commenting on her little clothes for the past few weeks, “so small—and so many colors,” and asking when I would bring her in. Shawn walked with me to drop off our laundry one morning, and Mr. Park just lit up with excitement. He said, “She looks like her father.” I had to smile at that, as he is the only one who seems to think so!
Normally, on Sundays, we walk only on the north side of our street, to avoid the soup kitchen line that forms at the church across the street. However, with Reilly in tow, we have to avoid the sun, and since the shade was on the south side of the street, we had to make an exception. As we strolled by the many characters in front of the church, one of the men asked “New baby?” Shawn and I nodded and he said, “Well, God bless her!” We thanked him, and moved on.
At home there is the Old Monk, who always stops to look at Reilly and smile. He sits on the third floor in his chair, in the corner of the hallway. He spends his time there praying, and it is impossible to break his concentration. Shawn and I used to leave for work, tromp past him, and he would never blink an eye. But now, with Reilly, he will stop right in the middle of his prayer and get up to see our baby girl. In fact, the one time we left without her (my dad was babysitting) the monk said, “Where baby?” which is the most English he has ever spoken in our presence.
This week, Reilly has also continued her visual development. When she’s in her crib, she spends more time watching her mobile. In the past, she would only stare left or right, but now she looks up and follows the black and white objects as they circle above her. She also shows interest in the mobile on her swing.
My favorite visual moment this week was when I said goodbye to Reilly as I left for work Tuesday morning. As I walked away from her, she turned her head to follow me with her eyes.
Shawn’s favorite visual moment this week was when Reilly sat in her lap and looked at her Organic Style magazine for ten minutes. The picture we have of that moment is too cute, and is the attached photo of the week. Enjoy!
Saturday, August 19, 2006
Week 58 Pictures
This week's photos are now up at the Smugmug site. Please click here to see Reilly sliding, swinging, and strolling.
Friday, August 18, 2006
A Dear Genie Letter
Dear Diaper Genie-
I’m sorry to say this, but I think it is time for you to retire. In all honesty, I feel like you betrayed me. Sure, at first you sealed tight and kept the diaper odors from permeating our apartment. You were sleek, white, and inconspicuous as you went about your doody (ahem, “duty”).
When other parents warned me that one day you would not be able to handle the stench of a regular one-year-old, I defended you. I said that with the Level 2 wrap, you could handle any number of poopy diapers spun into your canister. I stood firm even as they laughed in my face, even as they said, “Just wait, you’ll see.” Diaper Genie, I believed in you.
But lo! You are effective no more. Perhaps your genie magic has run dry. What is certain is that when I step into my daughter’s room, it smells like a manure field. I actually look around to make certain I haven’t stepped in anything. All I see is you, stark and white in the corner, the obvious source of what ails me.
And so, I genuinely thank you for your year of service, but I am afraid that I must issue your walking papers. I hereby relieve you of your doody (the pun was so good the first time, I just had to squeeze it in again).
Sincerely,
Brian
I’m sorry to say this, but I think it is time for you to retire. In all honesty, I feel like you betrayed me. Sure, at first you sealed tight and kept the diaper odors from permeating our apartment. You were sleek, white, and inconspicuous as you went about your doody (ahem, “duty”).
When other parents warned me that one day you would not be able to handle the stench of a regular one-year-old, I defended you. I said that with the Level 2 wrap, you could handle any number of poopy diapers spun into your canister. I stood firm even as they laughed in my face, even as they said, “Just wait, you’ll see.” Diaper Genie, I believed in you.
But lo! You are effective no more. Perhaps your genie magic has run dry. What is certain is that when I step into my daughter’s room, it smells like a manure field. I actually look around to make certain I haven’t stepped in anything. All I see is you, stark and white in the corner, the obvious source of what ails me.
And so, I genuinely thank you for your year of service, but I am afraid that I must issue your walking papers. I hereby relieve you of your doody (the pun was so good the first time, I just had to squeeze it in again).
Sincerely,
Brian
Thursday, August 17, 2006
Three by Midnight
Since Shawn and Donna are in New York this week, yesterday afternoon I packed up Reilly and headed on over to her Nana’s for a good, old-fashioned sleepover. By the time we arrived at her house, it was pouring rain out. Since Reilly was freaking out over the constraints of her car seat, I went out in the rain and set her free. My mom greeted us at the door with all the exuberance of a proud grandmother, waiting on her doorstep with a towel to dry off her granddaughter, lest the rain melt her sugar, spice, and all things nice. Once inside, I set to work assembling a booster seat and a protective gate for the staircase, while Reilly and her Nana set to work in the kitchen, my mom spreading out various books and simple toys for Reilly to play with.
Later, I joined them in the kitchen and collapsed, exhausted, in Reilly’s orange beanbag chair. As I watched Reilly and her Nana dropping spools into an empty oatmeal canister I thought about of one of the overarching reasons we moved to Florida: it is just too damn hard to raise a child with only two people (let alone one). And since I had been flying solo as Mr. Mom for three days running, it was a tremendous relief for me to have just a few minutes where I wasn’t entirely responsible for the welfare of my child.
A short time later, my friend Aaron and his wife Melissa arrived, as well as Aaron’s mom, Gale. Growing up, Aaron was my neighbor and best friend, and Gale often watched over me like a second mother. I often called her “mom.” It made sense, then, that Gale embraced Reilly as she would her own grandchild. Soon, Reilly was in full-on play mode with two grandmothers catering to her every whim. I’ve never seen more peek-a-boo, hide-and-seek, and other heavily-hyphenated games being played in my life.
Throughout all of this I sat in the dining room with Aaron and Missy, catching up with them and watching the two grandmas at work with their granddaughter. Since Gale and my mother are both elementary school educators, it was awesome to watch the way they played with Reilly. They introduced a learning component into everything they did with her. By the time 9:00 rolled around, they had her counting to two. If it wasn’t already and hour past her bedtime, I bet we might have seen the number three by midnight.
As I did the final diaper change and administration of Benadryl (Reilly has a cold), I wondered why the scene downstairs had given me such a sense of relief. I guess the reason comes from the fact that Shawn and I work so hard to make Reilly as safe and smart and happy as we can, but we can only do so much. To see my mothers contributing to my daughter’s happiness and education was so moving, and I felt some of the burden of parenting lift from my shoulders. Raising a child is such a big responsibility that to have someone else sharing in that responsibility is a blessing. And though family and friends have been helping us from the beginning, last night I realized for the first time that we don’t have to do it all on our own
Later, I joined them in the kitchen and collapsed, exhausted, in Reilly’s orange beanbag chair. As I watched Reilly and her Nana dropping spools into an empty oatmeal canister I thought about of one of the overarching reasons we moved to Florida: it is just too damn hard to raise a child with only two people (let alone one). And since I had been flying solo as Mr. Mom for three days running, it was a tremendous relief for me to have just a few minutes where I wasn’t entirely responsible for the welfare of my child.
A short time later, my friend Aaron and his wife Melissa arrived, as well as Aaron’s mom, Gale. Growing up, Aaron was my neighbor and best friend, and Gale often watched over me like a second mother. I often called her “mom.” It made sense, then, that Gale embraced Reilly as she would her own grandchild. Soon, Reilly was in full-on play mode with two grandmothers catering to her every whim. I’ve never seen more peek-a-boo, hide-and-seek, and other heavily-hyphenated games being played in my life.
Throughout all of this I sat in the dining room with Aaron and Missy, catching up with them and watching the two grandmas at work with their granddaughter. Since Gale and my mother are both elementary school educators, it was awesome to watch the way they played with Reilly. They introduced a learning component into everything they did with her. By the time 9:00 rolled around, they had her counting to two. If it wasn’t already and hour past her bedtime, I bet we might have seen the number three by midnight.
As I did the final diaper change and administration of Benadryl (Reilly has a cold), I wondered why the scene downstairs had given me such a sense of relief. I guess the reason comes from the fact that Shawn and I work so hard to make Reilly as safe and smart and happy as we can, but we can only do so much. To see my mothers contributing to my daughter’s happiness and education was so moving, and I felt some of the burden of parenting lift from my shoulders. Raising a child is such a big responsibility that to have someone else sharing in that responsibility is a blessing. And though family and friends have been helping us from the beginning, last night I realized for the first time that we don’t have to do it all on our own
Tuesday, August 15, 2006
Five more things you might not know about Reilly
1) Reilly becomes more and more mobile by the day. Her agility has been improving drastically: where she used to spend more time falling than walking, she now only falls down occasionally. She has even learned to navigate changes in her terrain, as when the carpet gives way to tile, or when the tile is interrupted by a door jamb.
Reilly is also a climber now. She loves to scamper up steps, and is learning how to come down them as well, though she still needs some work in this category. Reilly has also taken to scaling small-scale tables and chairs. One of her favorite things to climb is the square wooden coffee table in the living room. She swings her leg up to the edge, pulls herself up, looks to see if anyone is looking, and then smiles, because there I am, rushing over to put her back down on the floor again. Of course, as soon as her feet hit the ground, she is over at the table again, ready to climb.
2) Reilly’s speech is also improving. She hasn’t added too many specific words, but she has increased her volume of communication. She will talk and talk and talk to anyone and anything that will listen. She’s had quite a few conversations with our dog, Leia. She also mimics a lot of our conversations. For example, the other day she was trying to crawl up on the table, and I said to her, “No-no-no!” Reilly looked up at me and said, with a smile, “No-no-no!” She’s like our little echo.
We’re both still waiting for her to call us “mama” and “dada.”
3) Reilly’s favorite thing to do is to take the dog’s food out of her bowl and feed it to Leia piece by piece. Reilly also likes to sneak a piece into her own mouth from time to time. To combat this practice, we have started putting the dog bowls up on the counter while Reilly is awake. Still, from time to time we forget, and if Reilly sees those bowls down on the floor, she will bolt for the food as fast as her little legs can take her.
Today, I was feeding Reilly, and so decided put the dog’s food down so Leia could eat while Reilly was captive in her highchair. When Reilly was done eating, I put her down on the floor while I went to clean off her tray in the sink. The next thing I hear is the rustle of her little hands in the dog food bowl. I swung around and moved her away from the bowl. She tried to get around me, but I used my legs to block her path. After a few tries, she gave up and walked away. However, when I turned to go back to the sink, Reilly did a U-turn and bolted for the dog food bowl again. I could only laugh. She’s a crafty little sucker.
4) We have consolidated Reilly’s two naps per day into one nap that starts at noon. It was Reilly that really initiated this new schedule and Shawn that put the process into motion. The one nap per day is a big deal, because all the books say that babies should be taking one nap per day after they turn one, and this was also reflected in how the children napped in the toddler room at Reilly’s old daycare. Nothing makes me more pleased than Reilly doing something “by the book.” I know, I’m anal. I can’t help it.
5) Reilly’s going through another hair growth spurt. Her hair is not only growing longer, it is also getting thicker. When I pull up her bangs and look underneath, I can see a whole mess of new hair growing in. The result is that her hair has grown more and more wild, which only means that her hair now matches her personality. Shawn was able to put a clip in Reilly’s hair for the first time the other day, but Reilly pulled it out within moments, before I could snap a picture. It looked cute, though. Really, really, cute.
Reilly is also a climber now. She loves to scamper up steps, and is learning how to come down them as well, though she still needs some work in this category. Reilly has also taken to scaling small-scale tables and chairs. One of her favorite things to climb is the square wooden coffee table in the living room. She swings her leg up to the edge, pulls herself up, looks to see if anyone is looking, and then smiles, because there I am, rushing over to put her back down on the floor again. Of course, as soon as her feet hit the ground, she is over at the table again, ready to climb.
2) Reilly’s speech is also improving. She hasn’t added too many specific words, but she has increased her volume of communication. She will talk and talk and talk to anyone and anything that will listen. She’s had quite a few conversations with our dog, Leia. She also mimics a lot of our conversations. For example, the other day she was trying to crawl up on the table, and I said to her, “No-no-no!” Reilly looked up at me and said, with a smile, “No-no-no!” She’s like our little echo.
We’re both still waiting for her to call us “mama” and “dada.”
3) Reilly’s favorite thing to do is to take the dog’s food out of her bowl and feed it to Leia piece by piece. Reilly also likes to sneak a piece into her own mouth from time to time. To combat this practice, we have started putting the dog bowls up on the counter while Reilly is awake. Still, from time to time we forget, and if Reilly sees those bowls down on the floor, she will bolt for the food as fast as her little legs can take her.
Today, I was feeding Reilly, and so decided put the dog’s food down so Leia could eat while Reilly was captive in her highchair. When Reilly was done eating, I put her down on the floor while I went to clean off her tray in the sink. The next thing I hear is the rustle of her little hands in the dog food bowl. I swung around and moved her away from the bowl. She tried to get around me, but I used my legs to block her path. After a few tries, she gave up and walked away. However, when I turned to go back to the sink, Reilly did a U-turn and bolted for the dog food bowl again. I could only laugh. She’s a crafty little sucker.
4) We have consolidated Reilly’s two naps per day into one nap that starts at noon. It was Reilly that really initiated this new schedule and Shawn that put the process into motion. The one nap per day is a big deal, because all the books say that babies should be taking one nap per day after they turn one, and this was also reflected in how the children napped in the toddler room at Reilly’s old daycare. Nothing makes me more pleased than Reilly doing something “by the book.” I know, I’m anal. I can’t help it.
5) Reilly’s going through another hair growth spurt. Her hair is not only growing longer, it is also getting thicker. When I pull up her bangs and look underneath, I can see a whole mess of new hair growing in. The result is that her hair has grown more and more wild, which only means that her hair now matches her personality. Shawn was able to put a clip in Reilly’s hair for the first time the other day, but Reilly pulled it out within moments, before I could snap a picture. It looked cute, though. Really, really, cute.
Monday, August 14, 2006
Teething, Round V
Typically, Reilly isn't that interested in being held. She likes to roam free and explore her environment. However, when she is teething, she becomes cranky and clingy. I submit the following photo as evidence:
Damn those molars!
Damn those molars! Sunday, August 13, 2006
From the Archives: August 13, 2005 - Age 29
This entry is from Reilly's fifth week. In retrospect, I want to go back and tell myself that it will all get easier. Really, Brian. It will.
On Sunday, I decided it was time to clip Reilly’s fingernails. For the last couple of weeks, I’d been filing each nail, but with all the milk she’s been drinking, those little daggers are growing longer by the day. I have to say, I was a bit nervous going in for the first nail, but it came off with a quick snip, and feeling my confidence swell, I went after the others. I focused my attention on the thumbnail on her other hand, gave the clippers a squeeze, and totally missed. I pulled my hand away and grabbed her little thumb. She had a raised white line on the skin beneath her nail, and I was relieved to see that I had only pinched it. As I was inspecting the mark, I gave her thumb a squeeze, and a little drop of my baby’s blood came out. She began to wail. I felt like doing the same. Oh, woe to the father who hurts his little girl.
Later in the evening, after life had settled back into its normal chaos, I turned to Shawn, and said, “Parenting is hard.” I mean, I knew that raising a child would be difficult, but honestly, I had no idea that it would be this hard. I said the same thing to Ron Loose over steak and fries last night. Everyone at the dinner table protested that surely the hard times are worth it, and of course, they are right. I just wanted to make the point that the “problem” of a child is not one easily solved. Two plus two never equals four, and five diapers are enough to smell up the nursery.
It is worth it. I really is. When I was in my early twenties, I often wondered on the topic of Life, specifically, what it means. The conclusion I came to was that our purpose to procreate, and that having love in one’s life is the key to living well. Reilly brings both those things into my realm—I have a child, and with that child, I have much, much love.
After a long week, Shawn and I decided today to pack Reilly up in the Baby Bjorn, and beat the heat by taking a bus up to MoMA for some photography. The bus trip went brilliantly. To define “brilliantly” I will simply say that Reilly slept, the bus was air conditioned, and we got a seat. We arrived at MoMA about thirty minutes later, and toured the museum’s photography exhibits for about an hour and a half, including a very interesting collection of shots of Mt. St. Helens. The pictures reminded us of our road trip back in 2000, when we toured the mountain ourselves. We were there off-season, so it was desolate and we slept at a campground where our only visitor was a deer. We slept fitfully. Those fitful nights have returned.
Reilly is so great in the daytime, and is happy to play, dance with mom to Coldplay (her favorite band), or hit the town in her Baby Bjorn. This Thursday, she had her one-month check-up with Dr. Zullo, our pediatrician. Reilly weighed in at 8 lbs, 8 oz, and 21 and a half inches. She is in the 25th percentile for her weight and head circumference, and 75th percentile for her height. Dr. Zullo was very happy with Reilly’s weight gain, and asked Shawn if her father was tall and skinny. Ha! Reilly left with a prescription for Vitamin D drops (to help with bone growth) and for an ultrasound on Monday. Dr. Zullo is concerned that Reilly might have a little hip displacement from birth, and so Shawn will take her into NYU next week to get everything checked out.
The doctor also said that Reilly would be working on her visual abilities and would start displaying a social smile soon. That very same evening, when I was holding Reilly, Shawn got up to go into the kitchen. I watched Reilly follow her mother with her eyes, and when Shawn got out of sight, she raised up a cry. Another item off the checklist. Then, the next morning, when I was talking to Reilly as she woke up, she opened her eyes, looked at me, and gave me her best, biggest smile. She stole my heart.
On Sunday, I decided it was time to clip Reilly’s fingernails. For the last couple of weeks, I’d been filing each nail, but with all the milk she’s been drinking, those little daggers are growing longer by the day. I have to say, I was a bit nervous going in for the first nail, but it came off with a quick snip, and feeling my confidence swell, I went after the others. I focused my attention on the thumbnail on her other hand, gave the clippers a squeeze, and totally missed. I pulled my hand away and grabbed her little thumb. She had a raised white line on the skin beneath her nail, and I was relieved to see that I had only pinched it. As I was inspecting the mark, I gave her thumb a squeeze, and a little drop of my baby’s blood came out. She began to wail. I felt like doing the same. Oh, woe to the father who hurts his little girl.
Later in the evening, after life had settled back into its normal chaos, I turned to Shawn, and said, “Parenting is hard.” I mean, I knew that raising a child would be difficult, but honestly, I had no idea that it would be this hard. I said the same thing to Ron Loose over steak and fries last night. Everyone at the dinner table protested that surely the hard times are worth it, and of course, they are right. I just wanted to make the point that the “problem” of a child is not one easily solved. Two plus two never equals four, and five diapers are enough to smell up the nursery.
It is worth it. I really is. When I was in my early twenties, I often wondered on the topic of Life, specifically, what it means. The conclusion I came to was that our purpose to procreate, and that having love in one’s life is the key to living well. Reilly brings both those things into my realm—I have a child, and with that child, I have much, much love.
After a long week, Shawn and I decided today to pack Reilly up in the Baby Bjorn, and beat the heat by taking a bus up to MoMA for some photography. The bus trip went brilliantly. To define “brilliantly” I will simply say that Reilly slept, the bus was air conditioned, and we got a seat. We arrived at MoMA about thirty minutes later, and toured the museum’s photography exhibits for about an hour and a half, including a very interesting collection of shots of Mt. St. Helens. The pictures reminded us of our road trip back in 2000, when we toured the mountain ourselves. We were there off-season, so it was desolate and we slept at a campground where our only visitor was a deer. We slept fitfully. Those fitful nights have returned.
Reilly is so great in the daytime, and is happy to play, dance with mom to Coldplay (her favorite band), or hit the town in her Baby Bjorn. This Thursday, she had her one-month check-up with Dr. Zullo, our pediatrician. Reilly weighed in at 8 lbs, 8 oz, and 21 and a half inches. She is in the 25th percentile for her weight and head circumference, and 75th percentile for her height. Dr. Zullo was very happy with Reilly’s weight gain, and asked Shawn if her father was tall and skinny. Ha! Reilly left with a prescription for Vitamin D drops (to help with bone growth) and for an ultrasound on Monday. Dr. Zullo is concerned that Reilly might have a little hip displacement from birth, and so Shawn will take her into NYU next week to get everything checked out.
The doctor also said that Reilly would be working on her visual abilities and would start displaying a social smile soon. That very same evening, when I was holding Reilly, Shawn got up to go into the kitchen. I watched Reilly follow her mother with her eyes, and when Shawn got out of sight, she raised up a cry. Another item off the checklist. Then, the next morning, when I was talking to Reilly as she woke up, she opened her eyes, looked at me, and gave me her best, biggest smile. She stole my heart.
Saturday, August 12, 2006
Thursday, August 10, 2006
Pride: In the name of love
The backstory: I guess it was over a year ago that we were in the outskirts of Atlanta to witness the wedding of our friend Jones and his bride-to-be. At some point of the weekend, Shawn and I ended up in the car of Brittany and Mike, our good friends from college. Mike was telling a story in which he was gently boasting about his skill at something--the specifics of the coversation have escaped me--but after he finished his monologue, his wife--Brittany--punctuated his story by saying, "Mike, you're so proud!"
The car burst out in laughter. Mike took this as a gentle ribbing, which it was, and which illustrates how much Brittany and Mike love each other. I think a typical husband, if called out on the spot by his wife, would be pretty sore about it. Instead, Mike embraced the joke, and said, "Damn right, I'm proud!"
From that day on, if Shawn catches me being boastful, or vice-versa, we always shout out, "You're so proud!"
As I was working on the deck, my mind kept returning to my parents. The reason? I was feeling proud. I was proud that I had offered to help around the house, instead of being a freeloader. I was proud that I had the basic skill necesary to properly wield a crowbar, and that I had taken the safety measures to wear protective glasses and put on my sunscreen. I was proud that I was able to deconstruct a very well put together deck, and that I had the moxie to keep at it until the job was done. I was proud that I did the job right. And I knew that I had both of my parents to thank for this pride, for they were the ones who taught me that getting your hands dirty is a part of everyday life.
As I pried up the old deck, I remembered my mother, and how she had given me weekend projects of pulling weeds or laying mulch in her garden. She was and is a New Englander with a Puritan work ethic that can handily defeat even the toughest project.
I also thought of my father, how he has done every odd job in in the world, from setting down asphalt to being a rodeo clown. The summer after I went from being a 4.0 highschool student to a 2.9 college student, he had two jobs lined up for me when I got home: one as a waiter at the local Ruby Tuesday for the lunch shift, and one at the busiest Albertson's grocery store in Florida doing night stock. I had big plans for that summer, drinking beer and hanging out with my girlfriend and my friends. When I protested that two jobs was too much, he told me that if I was going to lose my scholarship (which I did) and fail out of college (which was the path I was on) then I better get a feel for what life would be like working for a living without a college education.
I returned to college in the fall, switched my major from Biology to English, and got my grades back on track. Point taken.
So today, as I pried up the boards of the deck, avoiding rusty nails and various insects, I felt pride in myself, and graditude in my heart for my parents, who had guided me along to this point. As I swung the crowbar to knock loose a tough board, I felt the weight of this responsibility on me. It will be up to me to give chores, to teach my daughter the value of a dollar, and to undo all the spoiling her grandparents will pile upon her.
Soon though, I returned to my pride. I did a hell of job demo-ing this deck, didn't I?
The car burst out in laughter. Mike took this as a gentle ribbing, which it was, and which illustrates how much Brittany and Mike love each other. I think a typical husband, if called out on the spot by his wife, would be pretty sore about it. Instead, Mike embraced the joke, and said, "Damn right, I'm proud!"
From that day on, if Shawn catches me being boastful, or vice-versa, we always shout out, "You're so proud!"
* * * * *
Since I've been staying with my in-laws here in Flahriduh, I've been trying to find some tasks to do to make it feel as if I am contributing to the household (instead of sleeping in late and eating all the food, which is really the case). Though neither of my in-laws expect any such penance, Craig, my father-in-law, has been happy to oblige by offering up odd jobs for me to take on. A few days ago, I moved some tile from the front driveway to the backyard, where Craig is putting in a new stone deck.
To make room for the new stone deck, Craig suggested that I demolish the old, wood deck out back. So, this morning, I grabbed my crowbar and got to work on the thing. Here is the obligatory "before" picture:
As I was working on the deck, my mind kept returning to my parents. The reason? I was feeling proud. I was proud that I had offered to help around the house, instead of being a freeloader. I was proud that I had the basic skill necesary to properly wield a crowbar, and that I had taken the safety measures to wear protective glasses and put on my sunscreen. I was proud that I was able to deconstruct a very well put together deck, and that I had the moxie to keep at it until the job was done. I was proud that I did the job right. And I knew that I had both of my parents to thank for this pride, for they were the ones who taught me that getting your hands dirty is a part of everyday life.
As I pried up the old deck, I remembered my mother, and how she had given me weekend projects of pulling weeds or laying mulch in her garden. She was and is a New Englander with a Puritan work ethic that can handily defeat even the toughest project.
I also thought of my father, how he has done every odd job in in the world, from setting down asphalt to being a rodeo clown. The summer after I went from being a 4.0 highschool student to a 2.9 college student, he had two jobs lined up for me when I got home: one as a waiter at the local Ruby Tuesday for the lunch shift, and one at the busiest Albertson's grocery store in Florida doing night stock. I had big plans for that summer, drinking beer and hanging out with my girlfriend and my friends. When I protested that two jobs was too much, he told me that if I was going to lose my scholarship (which I did) and fail out of college (which was the path I was on) then I better get a feel for what life would be like working for a living without a college education.
I returned to college in the fall, switched my major from Biology to English, and got my grades back on track. Point taken.
So today, as I pried up the boards of the deck, avoiding rusty nails and various insects, I felt pride in myself, and graditude in my heart for my parents, who had guided me along to this point. As I swung the crowbar to knock loose a tough board, I felt the weight of this responsibility on me. It will be up to me to give chores, to teach my daughter the value of a dollar, and to undo all the spoiling her grandparents will pile upon her.
Soon though, I returned to my pride. I did a hell of job demo-ing this deck, didn't I?
Wednesday, August 9, 2006
Attachment Parenting
When I was a novice dad, I assumed that all children would eventually settle on some sort of security item, be it a blanket, stuffed animal, or other "lovey." To my surprise, Reilly never seemed interested in these things. We put special super-soft blankets in her crib, and stuck a teddy bear in the corner, but she never grew attached to any of them. Just as I started priding myself in rearing an unafraid and security blanket-free child, Shawn went to check in on Reilly at naptime, and discovered this scene:
A short time later, Reilly raised up a cry to let us know that her nap was over, and we discovered her standing in her crib with tears streaming down her cheeks and an Elmo in each hand. When Shawn brought her to the highchair for her afternoon snack, Reilly did not release her red furry twins, and so the Elmos joined us for a meal of Fig Newtons:
A short time later, Reilly raised up a cry to let us know that her nap was over, and we discovered her standing in her crib with tears streaming down her cheeks and an Elmo in each hand. When Shawn brought her to the highchair for her afternoon snack, Reilly did not release her red furry twins, and so the Elmos joined us for a meal of Fig Newtons:
Tuesday, August 8, 2006
A bottle of issues
In an effort to wean Reilly off of the bottle, yesterday we tried to get our daughter to drink milk from one of her Nuby sippy cups. Reilly grabbed the cup, took a few good gulps, then spit the milk out. When we encouraged (read: forced) her to try the sippy again, she sucked in some milk and them promptly let it dribble down her chin and all over her outfit. She looked up at me like, what the hell, dad?
As I changed her outfit, I wondered what the problem was. True, Reilly had always drunk milk from a bottle and water from a sippy, but milk tastes like milk and water tastes like water. What does it matter what container she drinks the milk out of?
(Well, apparently, it matters quite a bit.)
If you'll remember, it took us like a month to get Reilly on a bottle. I hope it doesn't take that long to get her off of one.
As I changed her outfit, I wondered what the problem was. True, Reilly had always drunk milk from a bottle and water from a sippy, but milk tastes like milk and water tastes like water. What does it matter what container she drinks the milk out of?
(Well, apparently, it matters quite a bit.)
If you'll remember, it took us like a month to get Reilly on a bottle. I hope it doesn't take that long to get her off of one.
Monday, August 7, 2006
Animal Cracker Appetizer
Today, Reilly and I took a trip over to St. Petersburg to see Nana at her school. Reilly was very excited to find that the rooms had chairs and desks were just her size.
We took a tour of the school and visited the classrooms of my mother's friends and colleagues. Everyone was very excited to meet the granddaughter of Ms. Overcast. Apparently, my mom talks a lot about Reilly, because my daughter needed no introduction! I also got to see my old friend Savannah, who is entering the 8th grade this year. She was once one of my mother's students, and is a fantastic poet and artist.
After the introductions, Reilly took her Nana on a tour of the hallways while we waited for the rain to abate.
All of the meeting and greeting that Reilly did really worked up her appetite, so Nana offered her some animal crackers. Even though Reilly loves animal crackers, we only let her have a few so that she wouldn't spoil her dinner.
We took a tour of the school and visited the classrooms of my mother's friends and colleagues. Everyone was very excited to meet the granddaughter of Ms. Overcast. Apparently, my mom talks a lot about Reilly, because my daughter needed no introduction! I also got to see my old friend Savannah, who is entering the 8th grade this year. She was once one of my mother's students, and is a fantastic poet and artist.
After the introductions, Reilly took her Nana on a tour of the hallways while we waited for the rain to abate.
All of the meeting and greeting that Reilly did really worked up her appetite, so Nana offered her some animal crackers. Even though Reilly loves animal crackers, we only let her have a few so that she wouldn't spoil her dinner.
A short time later, I packed up Reilly and we headed back to Seminole. Instead of her usual squalling, Reilly was very quiet for most of the ride home. When we go to a red light, I peered back at her and found out why she was so quiet. Apparently, I had left the diaper bag too close to the carseat, and Reilly was able to get ahold of the leftover animal crackers. She then dumped them in her lap for easy access.
What was most surprising is that when we returned home and set Reilly up for dinner, she ate more than she ever has, devouring two slices of deli chicken, half a cup of Blues Clues yogurt, and a sliver of banana bread. Perhaps we should give her animal crackers as an appetizer every day?
Sunday, August 6, 2006
Week 56 Pictures
Week 56 pictures are up at the Smugmug site. Click here to view Reilly feeding the dog, riding in her Radio Flyer, and just plain being herself.
Saturday, August 5, 2006
All in Time
The boxes are unpacked. We have Reilly’s crib up, with Elmo sitting in his corner, and diapers are stacked and ready on the changing table. The cabinets have been baby-proofed. Reilly’s toys are all over the living room. Yet, despite getting things in order, we all feel a bit out of sorts. Shawn and I are still adjusting to what should be a vacation, but isn’t. I miss the City. Shawn misses the City terribly.
Reilly loves her new home. Like our old apartment, her favorite place is still the bathroom. She likes to go in, shut the door, and pull the TP off the roll. I let her do it because it makes me laugh. At some point, I know I’ll have to undo this habit, or at least start keeping the door shut, but for now, unwinding the TP roll is entertainment for two.
Reilly’s new best friend is Leia, our old dog. Reilly loves to feed Leia her dog food piece by piece, while also trying to sneak a nugget or two into her own mouth. Leia is extremely patient with this little invader, and tolerates Reilly’s shrieking and crying and tail pulling. For her part, Leia likes Reilly too, especially when Reilly is eating Cheerios. Since Reilly drops three Cheerio’s for every one she gets in her mouth, Leia follows her around to keep the floor clean.
Reilly also has been enjoying the attention of her family, swimming with Aunt Morgan, eating applesauce with Papa Bear and Granny, riding in her Radio Flyer wagon with Nana, and going out to lunch with Grandma Donna. From Grandpa Craig, Reilly only asks for one thing: a bite of his sandwich. He always complies. What else is a grandfather for?
The car still presents a challenge for us, as Reilly hates being constricted to her carseat. We try to time car trips around Reilly’s naptime so that we can give her the pacifier. (As you’ll remember, under the Law of the Pacifier, this is an acceptable practice.) If we take her out and it is not her naptime, we brace ourselves for a good bout of frustrated crying.
We all have things to adjust to. Reilly to her carseat. Shawn to working from home. As for me, you’ll notice that I’ve yet to update my profile on this blog. I don’t quite feel ready to make the change because I don’t yet know what my identity is here—who I am, how I fit into this house, this city, this state. Still, I remain an optimist, as I know that all things come in time.
Reilly loves her new home. Like our old apartment, her favorite place is still the bathroom. She likes to go in, shut the door, and pull the TP off the roll. I let her do it because it makes me laugh. At some point, I know I’ll have to undo this habit, or at least start keeping the door shut, but for now, unwinding the TP roll is entertainment for two.
Reilly’s new best friend is Leia, our old dog. Reilly loves to feed Leia her dog food piece by piece, while also trying to sneak a nugget or two into her own mouth. Leia is extremely patient with this little invader, and tolerates Reilly’s shrieking and crying and tail pulling. For her part, Leia likes Reilly too, especially when Reilly is eating Cheerios. Since Reilly drops three Cheerio’s for every one she gets in her mouth, Leia follows her around to keep the floor clean.
Reilly also has been enjoying the attention of her family, swimming with Aunt Morgan, eating applesauce with Papa Bear and Granny, riding in her Radio Flyer wagon with Nana, and going out to lunch with Grandma Donna. From Grandpa Craig, Reilly only asks for one thing: a bite of his sandwich. He always complies. What else is a grandfather for?
The car still presents a challenge for us, as Reilly hates being constricted to her carseat. We try to time car trips around Reilly’s naptime so that we can give her the pacifier. (As you’ll remember, under the Law of the Pacifier, this is an acceptable practice.) If we take her out and it is not her naptime, we brace ourselves for a good bout of frustrated crying.
We all have things to adjust to. Reilly to her carseat. Shawn to working from home. As for me, you’ll notice that I’ve yet to update my profile on this blog. I don’t quite feel ready to make the change because I don’t yet know what my identity is here—who I am, how I fit into this house, this city, this state. Still, I remain an optimist, as I know that all things come in time.
Friday, August 4, 2006
Thursday, August 3, 2006
Rain Date
When the weather turns bad in Manhattan, most of the neighborhood nannies take their charges to Barnes & Noble. On a rainy or very hot day in the City, the children’s section of Barnes & Noble at Union Square could have up to two dozen children pulling books off shelves and pooping in their diapers. It’s pandemonium.
Today, the thunderstorms started early, so I decided to do the suburban version of the trip to Barnes and Noble and take Reilly to the mall. I rolled her around the cell phone kiosks, slowed down to sniff the soaps at Bath and Body Works, and even stopped to have lunch at the food court; I had Chick-Fil-A, and Reilly had Cheerios with milk.
As a whole, the mall was deserted. Being so used to the crowded sidewalks of Manhattan, it was a strange feeling to not have to maneuver around anyone. I just strolled straight down the concourse, the wheels of the Bugaboo humming on the smooth tile floor. As I cruised around the mall, I couldn’t help but wonder about the strange absence of other mothers and nannies. Was the square footage of their homes ample enough to keep their children busy on a rainy day in Florida, or was there some hideout that I was not yet aware of?
It wasn’t until I reached the west end of the mall that I found my answer. There, I came upon a 500 square foot children’s play zone, complete with cushioned benches that surrounded a spring-loaded carpet floor. Across the floor were the usual outdoor playground pieces: a slide, a tunnel, and a clubhouse. Since this play space was inside, it also came complete with books, toys, and other plastic playthings. There were at least a dozen mothers inside—and a few grandparents—all of them watching their kids as they ran madly across the floor.
I had conflicting feelings about the mall play zone. It seemed a little lame to be hanging out with my daughter at the mall, but at the same time, the air conditioning and the cushioned benches were nice. Reilly didn’t have the same misgivings, however; she was all smiles. She hit the ground running and didn’t stop until I carried her out of there an hour later, waving bye-bye to all her new friends.
Today, the thunderstorms started early, so I decided to do the suburban version of the trip to Barnes and Noble and take Reilly to the mall. I rolled her around the cell phone kiosks, slowed down to sniff the soaps at Bath and Body Works, and even stopped to have lunch at the food court; I had Chick-Fil-A, and Reilly had Cheerios with milk.
As a whole, the mall was deserted. Being so used to the crowded sidewalks of Manhattan, it was a strange feeling to not have to maneuver around anyone. I just strolled straight down the concourse, the wheels of the Bugaboo humming on the smooth tile floor. As I cruised around the mall, I couldn’t help but wonder about the strange absence of other mothers and nannies. Was the square footage of their homes ample enough to keep their children busy on a rainy day in Florida, or was there some hideout that I was not yet aware of?
It wasn’t until I reached the west end of the mall that I found my answer. There, I came upon a 500 square foot children’s play zone, complete with cushioned benches that surrounded a spring-loaded carpet floor. Across the floor were the usual outdoor playground pieces: a slide, a tunnel, and a clubhouse. Since this play space was inside, it also came complete with books, toys, and other plastic playthings. There were at least a dozen mothers inside—and a few grandparents—all of them watching their kids as they ran madly across the floor.
I had conflicting feelings about the mall play zone. It seemed a little lame to be hanging out with my daughter at the mall, but at the same time, the air conditioning and the cushioned benches were nice. Reilly didn’t have the same misgivings, however; she was all smiles. She hit the ground running and didn’t stop until I carried her out of there an hour later, waving bye-bye to all her new friends.
Tuesday, August 1, 2006
We-Haul
One of the aspects of packing up our apartment that I hadn't anticipated was how disorienting it would be for Reilly, who clearly seemed confused at what had happened to her living space. Still, she took it in stride, and made the best out of the situation by exploring the various boxes stacked around the apartment. Pictured below is Reilly climbing the plastic and cardboard mountain that had taken over our living room.
On Saturday, my good friend Seth joined me (and two hired movers) in the arduous process of moving the contents of our apartment down four floors and across the sidewalk to the U-Haul. It took us two hours and an awful lot of sweat and cursing, but by 2:00pm, the task had been completed. Seth and I celebrated the event by having a cold Budweiser out front on the stoop. Cindy and Abby, who had been watching the truck, made small talk with us. We said goodbye a short time later, none of us making a big deal out of it, but as the door closed on their final goodbyes, the gravity of the parting took hold.
I distracted myself by jumping into the final cleaning of the apartment. My dad, who had arrived a few minutes earlier, vacuumed the floors. I mopped the kitchen. Before we left, I snapped a picture of the space where Reilly had been in the picture posted above.
On Saturday, my good friend Seth joined me (and two hired movers) in the arduous process of moving the contents of our apartment down four floors and across the sidewalk to the U-Haul. It took us two hours and an awful lot of sweat and cursing, but by 2:00pm, the task had been completed. Seth and I celebrated the event by having a cold Budweiser out front on the stoop. Cindy and Abby, who had been watching the truck, made small talk with us. We said goodbye a short time later, none of us making a big deal out of it, but as the door closed on their final goodbyes, the gravity of the parting took hold.
I distracted myself by jumping into the final cleaning of the apartment. My dad, who had arrived a few minutes earlier, vacuumed the floors. I mopped the kitchen. Before we left, I snapped a picture of the space where Reilly had been in the picture posted above.
It took my dad and I three days (two nights) to complete the 24 hour trip to Florida. It was great to have someone like my dad to make the trip with, and especially cool to stop and see my brother in Virginia. When you only get to see a sibling twice a year, adding another visit is priceless.
We drove a mixture of interstate and country highways, giving us a nice blend of convenience and authenticity. I saw an alligator swimming a muddy stream in Georgia, pecan plantations in South Carolina, and farm after farm of soybeans, tobacco, and corn in Virginia. The south has such beautiful country, and as the smell of smog gave way to the smell of earth, I felt calm and happy.
Still, I couldn't shake my doubts of what the future holds for us, the vortex of circumstance and chance which is so powerful when a family uproots their collective lives to start anew. Like speeding through the blur of a tunnel, the road stretches surely before us, but what lies ahead is uncertain and unknown.
From the Portfolio of other Budding Young Artists
Friday, when I picked up Reilly from her last day at daycare, I was presented with this lovely going away card from Reilly's friends and teachers. (Actual size 24 inches by 18 inches.)
I remember how hard it was to decide whether to send Reilly to daycare or to get a nanny for her. I feel so fortunate that we were able to get our daughter into this exceptional facility, and I am sad that she will be losing the friendships she has created with her little friends. I am also sorry that she will no longer see Shawneeka, Joyce, and Jenya, who were such wonderful teachers and surrogate parents for Reilly. Reilly truly loved her primary caregiver, Jenya, and I know that the opposite was also true.
In the end, though, it is better to feel sad. The fact that it was hard to say goodbye to FedKids only shows how much we cared for the people who ran the daycare. Reilly will quickly forget them--such is the memory of a one-year-old, but nevertheless, they will be missed.
I remember how hard it was to decide whether to send Reilly to daycare or to get a nanny for her. I feel so fortunate that we were able to get our daughter into this exceptional facility, and I am sad that she will be losing the friendships she has created with her little friends. I am also sorry that she will no longer see Shawneeka, Joyce, and Jenya, who were such wonderful teachers and surrogate parents for Reilly. Reilly truly loved her primary caregiver, Jenya, and I know that the opposite was also true.
In the end, though, it is better to feel sad. The fact that it was hard to say goodbye to FedKids only shows how much we cared for the people who ran the daycare. Reilly will quickly forget them--such is the memory of a one-year-old, but nevertheless, they will be missed.
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