Baby Bug's First New Year

Moss only had one new year's resolution, and it was to get more sun.

Check and check.

Baby Bug's First Christmas

What a treat to stay put this month.  It was restorative, almost luxurious.  No airports, no packing, no fiddling with time zones, no immune threats, no extra expenses.  But sadly also no grandparents, no getting off the housework hook, no nostalgic shivers of Christmas past.  I have a fantasy where my home and my family are both within reach on the same day, but the absence of this is an unfortunate side effect of the unique opportunities we've all used to build our wonderful lives, so I can't complain too loudly.  And anyway, I'm obsessed with this miraculous new family subset of my own right now.

The fun never stops

Oh Mossie, look at the nice orname --

Nonononononooooooo! How are you so FAST?

First Beco back carry.

Everyone is pleased.

And a little amazed.

Yes Moss, you fit in your stocking, but that's because I made your stocking comically large.

And anyway it's nice to inaugurate our own family Christmas traditions, so Moss will be able to have his nostalgic shivers someday.  Roast chicken (and the ensuing bone brothy goodness), charcuterie/relish plates, bacon and eggs, and roasty toasty vegetables are the food traditions so far.  Chocolate oranges, Pez, boxer shorts, socks and pajamas are the stocking traditions (albeit modified in age-appropriate ways moving forward).  A Christmas family hike is a fantastic idea (although it will be more fun when I'm in better enough shape to make it to the end...), and a close second for my favorite Trofatter family Christmas tradition.

The only flat part of the entire hike, the first 0.3 miles.  I'm apparently not quite ready for 5 miles of an UNRELENTING 12% grade.

But my absolute favorite new custom is that every year we'll be crafting family ornaments.  This year Ben went all out with the paper mache, and I managed to contribute some wee little knitwear.

 Mousie Mossie, Subi Snowman, Aoro Soldier, Mama and Papa Claus

 Due to knitting error, Mousie Mossie has a proper Scottish Tam o'Shanter instead of a normal hat...

Subi Snowman is the least involved paper mache-wise, but that scarf was an epic adventure in knitting cotton thread...

Aoro Soldier doesn't have knitwear, but he has awesome brasswear, and his mutton chops keep him warm anyway

Mama Claus and her dishtowel kerchief bonnet thingie

And sooty Papa Claus doesn't have knitwear either.  Might try to add a macrame little holly leaf, if I feel like learning macrame by attempting to fashion a tiny pain in the butt holly leaf...

And of course Moss is just swimming in loot.  I'm missing photos of him with his new favorite stacking cups from Gramimi, and a few additional outfits from Gigi and MimiT (to be rectified next week), but here's the bulk of the rest of the haul:

I don't know why people even bother making baby hoodies without adorable animal ears...

Nor why they bother making baby pants without animal face butts.  I rest my case.

Nice.  Thank you Gigi!

Candy cane Moss, courtesy of Gigi

It is approaching impossible to take a non-blurry Moss pic.

And when I get close, there's a blurry Aoro in it.  Can't win.

Jailbird Moss, from stripe-loving Gigi.  This thing is completely knit, and is pretty much the cutest thing I've ever seen.  However, the person who designed its tiny adorable buttons closing the legs will die and go to a circle of hell where you have to repeatedly take this garment on and off of squirmy 5-month-olds forever.

Kimono-gnome Mossie in our new jogging stroller!

Jogging with Mommy = win!  Thank you from the bottom of my heart and the heart of my bottom, MimiT, Mike and Pete!

Annie created the Animal of the Month club for Moss, and he got this magnificent moose butt to start.

 He is a fan.  It suspiciously resembles an Aoro toy, though, so Mama vigilance is high...  For a slightly better view of this noble creature's non-butt areas, refer to the candy cane Moss and the reindeer Moss butt photos above.  Butts are cute.  QED

A Moss rocket from Uncle Pete and Auntie Anna.  

Do I like it?  Well I don't know yet, hold your horses.  Important question: can I eat it?

Okay then yes.  Yes I like it.

Plus there were some Mom and Dad presents, like a Totoro,

some of those brilliant bibs that catch all the food for re-offering dropped food and not making your dogs obese,

and sippy cups for delicious water and juice,

and a silly monkey cloth with 2 dozen tags.

Next week there will also be photographic documentation of the excellent and visually interesting wooden teether from Dad and the various long-sleeved onesies from Mom.

A pretty decent Christmas, and yet it pales in comparison with Christmases to come, I'm sure.  But in the end I'm pleased with our restraint this time, and despite the moderate consumerism I think we demonstrated an acceptable ability to balance stuff with doing.  Huzzah.

A Cali Christmas Poem

'Twas the morne before Christmas, and all 'round the bay,
It was clear, warm, and sunny, 65* at midday.

The stockings were nailed to the cross-beam with care,

Instead of the fire pit (so that we'd Spare the Air).

Mossie was nestled all snug on Mom's chest,

With his REM visions filled with big, milky breasts;

And Cal at her knitting, and Ben writing code,

Were avoiding the lawn ‘cause it had to be mowed.

With the fixin's for dinner on the counter arrayed,

All of them local, organic, free-trade.
Lemon cake in the oven, fruit straight from the yard,

The mulling pot boils off, and spices are charred. 

The living room window frames our oft lighted tree,

And questions are raised re: its proximity

To the path of the pups as they chase hither and yon

Slapping the glass that keeps them off the lawn.

In front of the jade tree arose such a clatter,

We sprang from the couch to see squirrels all a-chatter.

On Aoro! On Subi! Crash into the windows!

Alert us to Shopping Express guys and shadows.

The tree remained upright, but now leaned to the left,

And due to dogs’ frenzy was all but bereft

Of the little bronze bells that we’d hung ‘round the base,

Knowing full well they’d be knocked out of place.

And then, like a hailstorm, we heard through the ceiling

Avocados!  (Though reindeer would have been more appealing.)

And as the sun sets past the palm tree’d horizon,

And after our bellies are full, then we wizen...

Up to the fact that we’d better start wrapping

And hurry with presents while Moss is still napping.

So now the house quiets, along and across.

Not a creature is stirring, not even a Moss.

The candles are twinkling, the tree is alight.

Happy Xmoss to all, and to all a good-night!

~~~

Our delicious dinner

Moss being hung from the cross-beam with care

 Mossie, that is ridiculous.  Get down from there.

Sunday wasn't a Spare the Air day...  :) 

Post tomorrow, not today

Haloo, I'm a busy bee trying to finish knitting Moss's stocking in time for tomorrow.  I will post a lovely Xmoss story tomorrow evening.  <3

Fixed Points, A Ben Post

Moss is 5 months and I've found myself thinking a lot about time lately.  Time is something I've always had problems with: often I don't have enough; sometimes I've got more than I know what to do with; about three times a year (Thanksgiving, Christmas, and my birthday come to mind) I'm overwhelmed as I look at the artifacts of my life and am faced with the simultaneously obvious and subtle fact that I'm getting older right alongside everything else.

The juxtaposition of fixed points in time and time's relentless progression baffles and awes and confuses and inspires me.

Honestly it's something I don't like thinking about any more than I have to, but having Moss around is kind of forcing the issue.  When was the last time I was going through obvious physical changes on a short enough time scale to actually be able to notice and say "I see a difference from last week" Probably the beginning of high school.

With Moss it's completely different.  He's growing so quickly that, while he still resembles the newborn I remember from those first few weeks, I'm constantly noticing that he's put on another pound or is another inch longer or isn't fitting into the clothes he was wearing just the previous week.

Life has felt so consistent over the past few years that I sometimes forget that I move with the flow. Things remained similar enough that sometimes it's been easier considering myself hovering in a fixed point, but I can't do it anymore.  Moss's birth was a fixed point for certain, but now he's moving right along with us.  On the positive side, it's forcing me to stay aware of the present more than I'm probably used to; then again, this kind of reminder that the "a man's days are counted" brings that semi-maudlin holiday mood swing around a lot more often than I realized it would.

Going home tends to evoke these feelings, and always has.  Mom loves telling how, even as a small child, I would get teary-eyed looking through pictures from earlier in my very short life.  This Thanksgiving, I did the sorts of things I usually do when I go back to Tennessee: spent time with family, visited old friends, went to my nostalgic places.  This year, I had Moss in tow the entire time.

Now it's not just about seeing my brothers, mom, and grandma; it's about seeing his uncles, Mimi T, and Grand Mimi C.  Checking in on high school friendsisn't just about shooting the shit anymore; it's about seeing how they're coping with the same kinds of life changes.  Dropping in on a former teacher or scout master isn't just about talking about the classroom or camping days; it's about interacting with other adults who share common experiences beyond those from our mutual past because we're all people moving through the same basic medium.

My relationships have been augmented by his presence, just as I have.

Moss makes me feel old.  He makes me feel alive and that I have experience that will be of value to him.  He makes me feel like I have a lot of growing yet to do, and that he's going to be an integral part of it.

Dear Moss: 5 months

“Making the decision to have a child - it is momentous. It is to decide forever to have your heart go walking around outside your body.”
― Elizabeth Stone

Moss-shaped heart

Dear Moss,

Recently I started to think about how we were kind of born together, when you were born as a person and I was born as a mom.  Sentimental schlock, maybe, but it makes me smile that we have such a special moment in common.  And we're growing up together, Mossy -- you, me, and Dad.  Life feels breezy and light these days, as if I'm cheating somehow.  There are non-trivial Moss-based family challenges to be solved, no doubt, but they feel like the delicious kind of challenge, like sprinting up a hill, or solving a sprawling but simple algebra problem.

curiouser and curiouser

an early dog lover

I'm not sure how many different ways I'll be able to say this without sounding like a broken record eventually, but you are a wonder and a delight.  You're so easy-going and joyful and chill, everyone says so.  I would say however, that patience is not a component of your easy-going-ness.  Always working on the next thing, easily bored, desperate to do the things you can't quite do yet.  Slow down!  Still stubborn, my determined child, concentrating so hard on everything.

Hand.  Not.  Lining up.  With object.  AAAARGH

You've figured out how to roll from your back to both sides, and you like to rock back and forth from the toys on your left to the toys on your right.  And when placed onto your tummy you can easily return to your back (now that you realized you have to raise your arm rather than try to roll over it).  But you still haven't quite grappled with that final piece of the self-propulsion puzzle -- rolling from back to tummy on your own.  Boy are you a seriously determined little inch worm, though.

so embarrassing, yet so endearing

I can tell you want so badly to move around more on your own than you can yet -- you strain and struggle and it's hard to watch but I'm working hard to hold back and let you find your own way.
You seem ready for solid food, but we aren't going to help you with that just yet.  The pediatrician said it was fine, but I concluded otherwise from my independent study (that waiting until after 6 months protects best against allergies and promotes optimum nutritional exposure).  We'll reassess right at 6 months though, because you already have 5/7 of the "readiness signs" (able and willing to chew, developing a pincer grasp in addition to the palmar grasp, eager to participate in mealtime, able to signal being done with a meal by turning away, and doubled birthweight).  You're only missing the ability to sit up unassisted, and your tongue-thrust reflex is still around.  We did decide that your first food will be avocado, so get ready -- they are so delicious.  Since you are so outwardly eager to join us at mealtimes I've started giving you a spoon and bowl to play with, and next week you may try some breastmilk in a sippy cup.

The big news for you these days are your feet.  "Oh. My. Goodness!  Did you know I have toys that never roll away ATTACHED to my BODY?!  Why would you keep this from me?!  Now I must make up for lost time and put them in my mouth for 15 minutes during every diaper and clothing change.  I hope you've cleared your schedule."

OMG my body has two sides COOOOOL

I recently skimmed through "What to Expect the First Year" and decided that it's a terrible book, but that's a very large and boring can of worms so let's just enjoy its relatively innocuous laying out of milestones for this month.

By five months, 90% of babies can:

• Hold their head steady, even when upright (old news for a Moss)
• Push up from stomach to chest, supported by arms (also old news, come on let's get to the hard stuff)

• Pay attention to an object as small as a raisin (try as small as a pine needle, as we learned yesterday)

it feels... flat

• Squeal in delight (your favorite place to do this is with that other baby inside the mirror)
• Reach for an object (um, yeah, this accounts for 95% of your activity in a given day)
• Smile spontaneously (I can see your smiles all the way back in your scalp as your face relaxes and melts into one of those giant Moss grins)
• Smile back when you smile (unless you're tired, at which point you bury your head into the nearest shoulder)
• Grasp a rattle held to backs or tips of fingers (you're a grabby little monster, you've got that down pat)

 you can grab a book,

 a tree, 

a different, better tree

• Keep head level with body when pulled to sitting (yes, and sit up, stand up, sit down, lie down is still one of your favorite games, for sure)

75% of babies can:

• Roll over one way (only tummy to back, but you're only a few muscle fibers and some inspired arm positioning away from back to tummy) 
• Bear some weight on legs (since you were 2 months old, you crazy high-tone baby)
• Say “ah-goo” or similar vowel-consonant combinations (I maintain that you're saying "uncle", but yeah)
• Razz (yes, you just figured out the spit bubbles last week. lovely.)
• Turn in the direction of a voice (or a computer, or a barking dog, yeah, you got it)

Roughly 50% of babies can:

• Sit without support (nope, too busy eating feet to finish the work on rolling and sitting just yet)

And only 25% of babies can:

• Pull up to standing position from sitting (nope, not by yourself, but definitely while holding on to someone's fingers)
• Stand holding on to someone or something (nope, almost though. your muscle tone is there but your balance is not)
• Object if you try to take a toy away (haha yes, if nothing else, you sure do know what you want!)
• Work to get a toy out of reach (yes, you work towards toys, but you don't get anywhere really, and it makes you frustrated)
• Pass an object from one hand to other (yes! ooh la la, so advanced)
• Look for dropped object (nah, not really)
• Rake a tiny object with fingers and pick it up in fist (you're all over this one, NO ONE is safe from the scratchy grabby hands)
• Babble, combining vowels and consonants such as ga-ga-ga, ba-ba-ba, ma-ma-ma, da-da-da (nope, not yet, you're still in the shouting, yalping, shrieking phase)

Your sleep is all over the place for the last 2 weeks or so.  You used to have a predictable pattern, and I was never tired.  From when you were about 4 weeks all the way up to 4 months, you would wake up once every 3 hours or so between 9pm and 9am, and then go right back to sleep after a drink (sleeeeeeeeep-hungry-awake!-eat-eat-eat-sleeeeeeeeeep).  Then, due to some combination of all the crazy nonsense illnesses, our 3-time-zone adventure, and your taxing developmental schedule, you went nutso with the sleeping.  It's like you're a different baby every night -- yesterday was 8pm bedtime, awake every hour between midnight and 6, then a 4-hour nap at 10am -- today it was awake until 11, eat every 2 hours but stay up for an hour each time to play with your feet -- tomorrow you will try something I haven't even thought of yet.  Hopefully it's some kind of crazy hybrid growth spurt/readjustment/sleep regression thing that will hone in on some manner of pattern in the next week or so.

I forgive you because cute.

And okay, so actually, I guess there is still one element of predictability remaining: your institution of the 4am Shouting Hour.  The first night it happened, I shot awake and tried *everything* to soothe you, -- nursing, diaper, humming, rocking, sleep sheep, swaying, new clothes, less warmth, more darkness, more warmth, less darkness -- but you just kept saying AAAAAAH!  YAAAAH!  YUHYUHYUUUUUUH!  Then you closed your eyes contentedly about an hour later.  Then it happened 3 more nights in a row, and I noticed it was always right around 4am, and I also noticed you were not distressed in any way and had zero unfulfilled needs (except for, obviously, the need to shout for an hour).  So now, 10 days later, I just open my eyes, glance at the clock, grimace, and settle in for my serenade.  Hopefully you will soon complete this data collection phase for Study 5 of your "My Voice" experiment (understandably a key component of your "What Can My Body Do?" grant proposal, the mainstay of your program of research investigating "Being Alive is Awesome")...

Love you Moss, for all days.


~~~
Vital Stats:

15.0 pounds (50th %ile), 24 inches (15th %ile) with a 44cm head (85th %ile).

Likes: board books with Dad, GooGooBun, foot rubs, hearing your own voice, eating feet, MIRRORS, bathrooms with automatic faucets, sleeping on people, dog ears, being licked on the face by a dog, eating fabric, Xmas tree lights, naked time, grabbing, combinations of several of these things at a time

Dislikes: sleeping not on people, being in loud places while tired, being cold, the time it takes to unhook a nursing bra, divided attention


Current adorable idiosyncrasies:

You like having something in your hands as you fall asleep.  Someone's Finger is the most desirable thing, followed closely by GooGooBun, while Anything Made of Cloth and Your Own Face are tied for third, and My Boob will suffice if nothing else is available.  You knead and squeeze and pinch and grab and it's just really sweet.

holding a legwarmer *and* GooGooBun

grabchewgrabchewgrabzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz

You love being kissed on the bottoms of your feet.  You will stop whatever you're doing and melt with goooooo-s and laughter and I test that this is still the case approximately 40 times per day.

You love being tickled most of all on your neck of all places.

You often hum-groan to fall asleep.  I really must get this on tape (ha, someday the etymology of that will be so weird) while it's still a thing -- when you're tired you start to repeat a rumbly moan in the back of your throat about once every breath and then it slowly quiets down and then it s l o w l y   s l o w s       d   o   w   nzzzzzzzzzz.

You're really into scratching things to explore their textures.  You find a new thing and you put your fingernails down onto it and open and close your palm for upwards of 10 completely captivated minutes.  Unless the thing makes noise when you do this (carpet, keyboards, corduroy, cardboard, backpacks, wood), then it'll be a good 15 or 20 minute task.  Aoro is a huge fan of this when it's directed at his head.

Your poop face.