Banana

Old trick: Rice cereal.
Really old trick: milk.
New Trick: Bananas

That's right, kids. Iain has officially tasted "real" food. And it's been a process. Here are my lab notes:

Day 1: one tablespoon or so of mushed-up raw banana. Result: Icky face. Effort to swallow bizarre, disgusting-textured yellow stuff. Look of betrayal ("I thought I had getting dressed figured out, then you started sitting me up and pulling on my onesie! Now, you tell me that what I've been eating - that I liked fine - isn't really food? And I have to eat this stuff?"). Mush not completely consumed.

Day 2: one tablespoon each, 2 feedings, banana microwaved to release aroma and to make it mushier. Result: first feeding, icky face. Obvious preference for rice cereal. Irritability. Second feeding: thoughtful face. No gagging. Entire portion consumed.

Day 3: two tablespoons at first feeding, three at second feeding. Result: first feeding, thoughtful face, entire portion consumed, some enthusiasm for the "banana shake" composed of part rice cereal and part banana. Second feeding: portion consumed, more demanded. Enthusiasm for food on its own indicated by open mouth and chirping like a little bird ("More Worms!!!"). Rice cereal consumed after 1/4 of a large banana.

In short, the banana regime seems to be succeeding. The only two caveats are:
1. On Friday, when he begins Butternut Squash, he will experience the joy of change all over again.
2. Banana poo is nasty.

But let's not talk about that.

Nostalgia

Mother in Paris, showing that Egyptian lady how it's done.

Tony and I in Avebury, mugging for the ancient stones.

Keeping Natalia warm in Edinburgh, both of us wearing our handy-dandy headphones.

It's nice to be here, but I miss Europe, too.

A Day in Louisville

We spent the afternoon and evening at the Hauss House. Caroline and Darren, their new son Brando, their daughter Chloe, their parents, grandparents, aunt, cousin and two cats were all there.

Here's me and Caroline with Brando and Iain:


And here's me, practically covered in baby-love. Note Iain's interest in Brando, who is playing hard to get:

After Iain puked on my trousers, and his father whipped out the Emergency Bandana to help clean up, Iain decided to go all biker on us. It's a good look for him, so we've ordered him a pair of black leather chaps.

You know, to wear with his bib.

It was a nice day, and we're especially grateful to have been included in a family dinner. Mrs. Hauss made ham and turkey, pasta salad (tortellini! tomato! mushroom! bell pepper! olive! YUM!), fruit salad, brownies and dream bars (like cheesecake cookies, sort of). Chloe had peas and peaches, Iain and Brando had milk.

Miriam is soooo jealous right now.

Grrr

So I got a flyer in the mail yesterday. It came from the Lexington-Fayette County Urban Gov't.

Come see us! they said. We've re-purposed old garbage cans into composting bins and you can have one for free! they said.

Great! Where do I go?

"the recycling center, corner of Manchester Street and Thompson Road."

Uh, where's that? Lexington is a big town, with nearly 250,000 people in it.

So I googled it. Nothing but crap. Then I looked at the LFUCG website. Lots of description of their services, no directions. On the Waste Management site, I found a phone number, or (they suggested) you could call 311 for city service information.

I called 311. Foolish Person From Somewhere Else. No one answers 311 on the weekend. Never mind that the compost-bin giveaway is only on Saturday. Psht. Either you know where it is or you don't get one, outlander.

Finally, I saw a reference in an old newspaper article to people who didn't like the recycling center being near their homes. It said, "near downtown." So I just pulled up a map of downtown and started looking.

Now I have hand-written directions. Maybe I'll go next weekend and get one. Or maybe I'll just sit here muttering about how unfriendly small cities can be. I honestly don't think it occurs to people that anyone new to town might not know where Absolutely Every Street is.

Grr. Bitterbitterbitter.

Callie!

Callie turned one last week. It was such a raucous party, though, I couldn't write about it until now. Recovering, don't you know.

Actually, Charles just pulled his photographs off of his phone, and since the Bizzles blogged about it, I shamelessly stole photos in which we appeared Right Off Their Site!

Here we are prepping for the part-ay: everyone has to eat. Iain had rice cereal, Kate and Callie had foods higher up the Baby Food Chain. Please note that I am wearing both green and blue in this photograph. In other words: no, I don't wear black all the time.



Check out the duck. Callie has a duck fetish. As you can see, Iain was unsure what the wooden spoon was for, and Kate just wanted to give the duck some love. Callie, on the other hand, was a killer. See the video at their blog if you don't believe me.

Bizzles, complete with Mommy Bizzle trying to eat Callie's hand.

Later, there was cake. Callie had a cake all to herself. This was her first experience with sugar, and it's hard to tell what she thought. It took about 3 minutes of smooshing before she experimented with putting it in her mouth (as opposed to Iain, who puts everything in his mouth ASAP). Once there, she seemed interested, but didn't dive in face-first (as I expected, and would have done myself).

So happy birthday, Callie. It's hard to believe you're already one. Pretty soon it'll be hogs, kegs and boys named "Butch." Unless your dad gets that shotgun he's been talking about.

Patty!

Holy Dookie, Batman. Check out the gift Iain received yesterday:

Could he be cuter? Here's a hint: NO.

[Also: note cheeks.]

It's the Little Stuff

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I never really thought about all the things you have to learn.

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Like, this week I've been sitting Iain up and pulling off his onesie. He has to lift his arms so I can get it off, and he gets the most quizzical look on his face when the fabric goes over his head. I think he was accustomed to us dressing him while he was on his back, but this new way is...weird, he thinks.

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Another thing I never considered was my hairstyle. Not the style itself, but the fact that it changes. My hair is long, and sometimes I wear a pony-tail, other times it's pulled partly back, and when I'm feeling extra crazy I just let it all hang down.

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For the first couple of months of Iain's life, I pretty much wore a pony-tail all the time. So when I began to carry him around after my shower (hair hanging down and wet), he was confused. Then I started teaching again, which meant the partial pull-back. More confusion. Iain spent a lot of time reaching for my hair and stroking it thoughtfully. Those little brain-wheels were grinding away: "Looks like my mommy, but the feathers aren't right. Smells like my mommy, but what's all this fringe?" etc.

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Meanwhile, I'm remembering childhood lessons long forgotten. Such as: wash behind your ears. I don't think I'd done this in twenty years (obviously, when I wash my hair, the shampoo gets back there. That's fine, right?).

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But now I'm washing Iain, and I'm hyper aware of all the places that a bit of schmutz might collect. So it's scrub, scrub, scrub behind those ears, and scrub, scrub, scrub between those toes.

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Next I'm going to have to learn a few songs. On Top of Old Smoky*, Great Green Globs of Greasy, Grimy, Gopher Guts** and Mrs. O'Leary*** aren't cutting it.

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*On top of old smokeeeee,

All covered with sand,

I shot my poor teeeeeeacher,

With a red rubber band.

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I shot her with glory,

I shot her with priiiiide.

I couldn't have missed her,

She was forty feet wide.

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I went to her fuuuuuneral,

I went to her grave,

Some people threw flowers,

I threw hand grenades.

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[The above is so obviously the product of a more innocent time. I remember thinking that the really insulting part of this was the second verse, where you get to call your teacher fat.]

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**Great green globs of greasy, grimy gopher guts,

Mutilated monkey-meat,

Little tiny birdy feet,

Great green globs of greasy, grimy gopher guts,

And I forgot my spoooooon!

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***Late last night, when we were all in bed (make sleepy signal with hands next to cheek)

Mrs. O'Leary hung a lantern in the shed (make lantern-hanging motion)

And when the cow kicked it over (mime kick)

She winked her eye and said: (make winking motion with hand next to eye)

It's gonna be a hot time, in the Old Town, To-night! (make fanning motion)

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[These last two, on the other hand, are as much fun now as they ever were. I especially enjoy holding Iain's hands and getting him to do the motions for Mrs. O'Leary, since he has Absolutely No Idea what the crazy lady is going on about.]