Dad Writes

Bottle-feeding blues

2011-04-05T08:05:00.002-04:00

Alright, cranking up the blog after a long hiatus. I had determined, once Annalee reached a certain age, that I was arguably compromising her right to an anonymous life when I wrote about her here. That might have been a good decision, or I might have been over-thinking. Probably somewhere in between.

What's new, you ask? Baby number two is the glorious, transcendent Rell, whom we welcomed to our family two months ago and change. I'm having to start her on a bottle a little earlier than I did Annalee, as my lovely wife has less time off from work than she did in the Ocean State.

How's the bottle-feeding going, you ask? Not so well. Or, let me put it another way: Probably the greatest challenge of my life so far. My beautiful, sweet, brown-eyed baby doesn't want the bottle when she's hungry, and she doesn't want to try it when she's not, and she doesn't want to try it when she's in-between. She doesn't want it. She expresses this by turning her head, pushing her legs off whatever's near to move herself away from the bottle, batting the bottle hard with her right hand, crying to the point of screaming, etc.

Additionally, she can't really be put down. So, what I have is a baby that most would describe as "colicky." For reasons that I can easily understand, my wife doesn't really love that word, and doesn't think it applies in this case. What I believe is that she has, through a combination of insight, willpower, and a physical endowment that I lack, been able to see our girl through some real hardship.

Labels and diagnoses aside, I need help. I need help slowly and methodically inducing Relly Belly to take a bottle. The sense that I am water-boarding my beloved baby is KILLING me. So, I need tips. Not ideas, not theories -- tips. Thanks in advance.

Tippy Toes

2010-02-14T11:41:00.009-05:00

Kim and Annalee are in Rhode Island for nine days, and I have been more forlorn than is politically correct. On the bright side, Annalee had more to say on the phone with her old man today than usual. Below are some of the things that I can remember her saying, as close to word for word as I can recall. For reference: Papadoopa is her maternal grandfather; Krissy is her aunt; Caleb is Annalee's "twin" cousin, born 6 weeks before she was, and Caitlin is also her cousin and is 18 months old. From here on in, it's Annalee speaking:

1. The building show is on in Rhode Island.
2. For breakfast I had noodle soup.
3. Is it nighttime in Texas?
4. Papadoopa is not here. He's playing cards on a trip.
5. Papadoopa said I could open presents on Valentine's Day, after breakfast.
6. The presents are downstairs in the basement.
7. Yesterday, I told Krissy not to let Caitlin look at the presents.
8. The snow is melting, but tomorrow we're going to get new snow.
9. The old snow is melting, but the new snow is coming.
10. There are icicles outside.
11. I can see one through the window if I stand on tippy toes.
12. I was very angry, grrrr, when Caleb wouldn't come over yesterday.
13. Krissy said to ask Mom if I can sleep at Caleb's house one night.
14. Would that be OK?
15. The trees don't have leaves here.
16. If you want to look at the presents, you have to sneak up.
17. I love you, too.

How 'bout Some Music?

2009-05-16T09:32:00.003-04:00

I am told that children have active imaginations. Judging by the proliferation of names around this house, I am going to say yes to that.

Annalee has now referred to her father as: Prince Steven, Eric, Grampa, Brother, and at least one other term of fantasy and endearment that I wish I could remember.

She has referred to her mother as: Queen, Sister, Lacy, and at least one other term of fantasy and endearment that I wish I could remember.

She currently prefers to be known as Genevieve and, sometimes, Princess Genevieve. Woe be unto you if you call her "Annalee" at the wrong time.

Yesterday, when a friend of hers was having a down moment, Annalee put on her lullabye CD for the two of them to listen to when the two of them were alone in Annalee's room. (The friend had been told that she and her folks would have to leave soon and didn't want to go.) Of course, putting the music on was just a friend being a friend, but it's not something I remember doing when I was three and a half.

Smart Lady

2009-05-02T09:21:00.003-04:00

I have been silenced, to some extent, by the idea that by writing down Annalee's amazing doings and sayings I would be diminishing her somehow.

However, after much soul-searching, I am returning to my jottings here in an effort to preserve a record of one of the world's most beloved people during her early years.

A couple of weeks ago, she understood something faster than I thought made sense and I said, "How did you know that?"

"Because I'm a smart lady," she said.

For most of the first half of her fourth year, she responded to questions regarding her age with just about any number greater than her actual age, having gleaned, evidently, that older people have more say in the world.

At the park: "How old are you?"

"Seven," Annalee answered.

At Whole Foods: "How old are you?"

"Thirty-five."

At the pool: "How old are you?"

"Eighty-three." (This was her favorite age for weeks.)

Although she is no longer "with child," she has successfully accepted several new beings into the world as her sister-daughters: Monica, Katelyn, Baby Pink, and Apple Dumplet. All of them are beloved, and well-attended to.

Monica

2008-11-22T09:35:00.000-05:00

Our princess is with child. Or, anyway, she thinks she is. "My baby is coming out today," she says. Initially dubbed "Harmonica," her unborn child's name has been shortened to "Monica." The "pregnancy" has been going on for nearly three weeks, and seems to have sprung from spending time with a friend whose mommy was pregnant.

Noting that the friend's mom had evidently decided to become with child, Annalee decided that she, too, would make such a decision. And she has been resolute, never drifting from the reality that there is a special someone inside her. "Monica likes chocolate," she has mentioned, more than once.

She has also been resolute in the decision to refer to Kim and me as "Sister" and "Brother" for nigh on six weeks. It is not impossible that she wants to have a new sibling. One would especially think so, given that she sometimes refers to "Monica," too, as "Sister." For instance, I have heard her say, "Sister is going to come today," not quite looking at her belly, but somehow gesturing toward her "oven" with her entire being, without actually moving a muscle.

On the other hand, Annalee may call Kim and me "Sister" and "Brother" just because she likes it and had tired, temporarily one imagines, of the top-down power structure of parents, named as such. By a striking coincidence, my own parents had me refer to them by their first names, Read and Jenny, until I was ten. It was a hippie, California-in-the-sixties, power-to-the-children sort of thing. Until everyone pretty much longed for the words "mom" and "dad," which, eventually we did.

And which, today, I pretty much do again.

And Then You Do

2008-07-19T09:17:00.000-04:00

When your child falls, as Annalee did last night, there is a tendency to question your parenting skills. Because parents enjoy more power over their children than over anyone else in their lives, it's easy to go overboard with this questioning, as though it is God questioning God during some hideous phase of the Inquisition. "What were you thinking when you invented gravity? Didn't you foresee this child's terrible fall?" "What were you thinking when you invented concrete? Not a very good idea, in the end, was it?"

We were sitting on the front porch when it happened, I with my guitar in my lap, and Kim with a glass of lime-aid that she and Annalee had just made in her hand. I was singing songs, and Annalee was run-dancing, as joyous as we had seen her. We knew she was tired, and we'll kick ourselves for weeks. On the last of Annalee's trips up the concrete path from the front door to the sidewalk, she tumbled at full speed, getting her hands out in front of her but taking far too much of the impact with her forehead.

The air in this house is saturated with love most of the time, but last night, when Annalee woke up hungry around mightnight and the three of us had some pizza before putting Annalee back down, the air was super-saturated. You think you can't love them any more than you already do, and then you do.

Learning Curve

2008-05-10T05:18:00.000-04:00

At age 2 years and 9 months, Annalee has ridden a sled, her Jetsons-like one-girl car, her friend May's pink scooter, roller skates, and her tricycle. While either her mom or I have hovered helpfully nearby for just about all of these ventures, she has grown more autonomous on the trike, able, for instance, to steer competently within the confines of the sidewalk on the way to the playground as well as pedal more or less steadily on flat surfaces and down hills. Uphill is still a minor challenge. Luckily, I am never farther than a few feet away, so a push is proffered and, eventually, accepted. Unlike four decades ago, a helmet is de rigueur for all of the toddler gravity games.

We swam in Barton Creek today, after watching performers celebrate Mother Earth Day at Zilker Park. Annalee bragged to her mama, "I went under the water and came back up all by myself!"

Upon Awakening

2008-04-23T09:21:00.000-04:00

Someone got her first pair of roller skates yesterday, along with her first set of elbow and knee pads. She already had a helmet to wear while riding her tricycle. The skates, made of bright pink plastic, are the sort you strap around your shoes -- with a heel cup for extra stabilization. I drove up to find my beloved child practicing on her new wheeled shoes, her mom ever-present for support and sudden catches, with the widest eyes and biggest smile I may ever have seen. "I'm a big girl, Daddy," she said, sweat pouring from under her pink helmet, when I opened the car door. "You sure are," I said. "This is incredible."

She wanted to skate one more time before bed, in the pitch dark, and something tells me I know what she's going to want to do when she wakes up.

Big Girl

2008-04-22T11:33:00.000-04:00

For her own reasons, Annalee spent the last couple of hours of yesterday referring to her mom as "Grandma" and myself as "Grampa." Kim and I have theorized that she is doing so to poke fun at us (she clearly loves it, and keeps invoking our new appellations in every sentence -- "OK, Grandma?"). She may simply miss her grandparents, all of whom live far from Texas.

She is wearing "big girl" underwear more and more, diapers less and less. She insists on putting on her own clothing, which she has learned to do in the last month. She can put on her own shirts, underpants, pants, socks, and shoes (with minor left-right guidance). She insists, too, on having a go at tying her shoes with laces before allowing Mom or Dad to finish the job.

She says, "I'm a big girl" many times a day.

Peek-a-boo!

2008-04-13T07:57:00.000-04:00

Annalee has been told, fairly, that her eyes are not only brown. They are, at certain times, the dark hue referred to by Russian novelists as "black." They are always as magical, and as lively, as she is. I have, out of mental laziness perhaps, told her once or twice, "You have the most beautiful brown eyes," and I have been corrected. "No, Daddy, my eyes are purple." They do have, in certain lights, a purple ring around their broader, dark-brown rings.

She continues to love a wide variety of peek-a-boo games: From behind pieces of furniture, around play equipment at the park, from beneath blankets and sheets. Peek-a-boo!!

Chocolate

2008-04-08T08:37:00.000-04:00

Annalee doesn't mind the taste of chocolate. Indeed, she starts most days with hot cocoa. She also receives an M&M for each successful demonstration of toilet-targeted elimination, and I suspect that no other enticement would have worked. Yesterday she said, "When I'm bigger, I'm going to work, and I'm going to eat the whole chocolate." I have no reason to doubt her!

Time for New Books

2008-04-01T14:50:00.000-04:00

After some quality time with Mom and Dad at the playground, Annalee ran the quarter mile home, uphill, without stopping. It was lucky for us the house was that close.

She continues to invest much importance and love in her coterie of babies: teddy bears, stuffed movie figurines (e.g. Shrek), and actual baby dolls. All have names, many are pretend breast-fed by their proud mama. Few trips anywhere in the family van can be initiated without bringing two, three, or four of the beloved along.

Books are not supremely popular at the moment, which I fear is a result of watching too many movies and kids' videos. On the other hand, it would be just like me to enforce a level of intellection in my child that takes the fun out of reading for life. If the phase does not prove to be a phase soon, though, I will have to at the very least buy some new books.

New Look

2008-03-26T21:57:00.001-04:00

I postponed getting a haircut for several months. Among my reasons was not wanting to lose the curls that Annalee had a habit of playing with, especially when tired. I admit, too, that strangers telling us all the time that they could see where Annalee got her curls from was a bond between us, a thing of which I was proud. Eventually, though, I bit the bullet. The long locks had become a bother, and I wanted my old short-haired self to re-emerge, if hopefully wiser.

"Daddy, you got a haircut," she said, when she first saw me. "I like it." So much for her being devastated. The next morning, she saw me again and said, "You still have your haircut, Daddy." A little later she said, "I like your haircut, I didn't like your curls."

She had recently been expressing interest in her own first haircut, and within a few days of Daddy's new look, Annalee was not to be deterred. Mommy brought her to a fancy local hair salon, and she had about an inch taken off her golden-red curls. I dreaded her haircut as much as I dreaded my own, fearing the loss of I don't exactly know what, her innocence, I suppose, and was happy to see I didn't love her less with her stylish new 'do, a little more, if anything.

Thoughts on Santa Claus

2008-03-20T18:23:00.000-04:00

"Daddy," Annalee said the other day. "Santa Claus brings presents to my house -- not you, Santa Claus."
We were enjoying a warm and sunny afternoon in March in Austin on the front porch.
"He brings them to my house," she said. "Santa Claus, not you."
"OK," I said. "Santa Claus, not me."
"Not you," she said.
I wasn't sure if she was trying to clarify something for me, or for herself.
"Santa Claus brings them, not you," she said.
It probably mattered less how much she knew, when she learned it, and who she learned it from, than that what we were talking about was important.

My Sister-In-Law

2008-03-18T10:06:00.000-04:00

The other morning I told Annalee that she looked very cute in her princess nightgown.
"Thank you," she said.
"Is it fun to wear a nightgown?" I asked. (She normally wears pajamas.)
"Yeah, Krissy gave this to me," she said.
"Would you like Daddy to buy you a nightgown?" I asked.
"Could you buy me a pink one?" she asked in return. "Krissy bought me this purple one. Could you buy me a pink one?"
"Sure," I said. "I would love to buy you a pink one."
"Do you remember Krissy?" Annalee asked. (Krissy, Annalee's aunt, is my wife's sister.)
"I sure do," I said. "When you marry someone their brothers and sisters become your brothers and sisters, in law. So, Krissy is my sister-in-law. I remember her."
"Oh, she said. "Grampa Read is my sister-in-law."

Big Girl

2008-03-12T09:17:00.000-04:00

A little person in our life has learned a few more words since the last time I found a moment to write about her here, like around a thousand. She has begun attending yoga classes with Mommy on Tuesdays and Daddy on Fridays. In the former, she is in the same room with other moms and their young progeny. In the latter, she is in a room filled only with pre-schoolers and a pair of able instructors. I expected Annalee to hesitate, at least, the first time we went to the yoga center for our separate-but-simultaneous classes, but she did not. She walked into the space calmly with her eyebrows slightly raised with expectation. She was carrying a purple yoga mat, which she was instantly and profoundly fond of.

The post-class ritual is: A tiny chocolate provided by the yoga center, along with a small porcelain cup of water, followed by a visit to a fancy coffee joint for pumpkin bread and more water, followed by a trip to Whole Foods for pizza (and water). Only then do we shop for the day's family meal.

Last Saturday night, on a shopping trip to Whole Foods with the whole family, Annalee spied her yoga teacher and was full of joy about it.

I was full of joy with her.

Me see?

2007-11-06T09:00:00.000-05:00

Annalee has her catch phrases, and I'll do my best to catalogue them as of today:

1. "Daddy, whatchoo doin'?" (Asked at all times of the day, a good reminder of the relative significance of things.)
2. "You make this?" (Asked when a particular food has resonated with her, frequently after a bite has been savored and her head nodded.)
3. "Upstairs" (Said as many times as necessary to convince Mom or Dad, or both, to go to the second floor, generally Mom and Dad's room, for food or TV watching, or both.)
4. "Me see?" (Said a few times a day to indicate interest in being shown whatever Mom or Dad are looking at the moment, from an image to a book to the contents of a diaper.)
5. "No talkin'!" (Said every other day or so to indicate that someone has been conversationally ignored long enough.)

Charmed

2007-11-01T10:59:00.000-04:00

When we weren't having a lot of luck interesting our princess in initiating her first trick-or-treating odyssey last night, it suddenly dawned on me that we were pitching ourselves a year or two over her head, i.e. she didn't have the foggiest idea what "trick-or-treating" was. "Do you want to go to the neighbors and get candy?" I thought to ask. "Yes!" Annalee said. At some homes, she managed to "say the magic words." In her husky, high-pitched voice, wearing a homemade purple bird costume (thanks, Mom!), "trick-or-treat" never sounded so beautiful. At one home, though, a minor case of stage fright ensued. "What do you say?" we Mom prompted, to no avail. "Say the magic words," Dad said. "Candy!" she said. Do I have to tell you that the neighbors were charmed?

And So We Do

2007-10-06T21:32:00.000-04:00

At twenty-six months, Annalee likes to walk barefoot now; she likes to read her favorite books with us as many times as we're willing (her current favorite is "Polar Bear, Polar Bear, What Do You See?"), announcing her intention with a single word ("Again!"); she is very interested in other children at the park and pool and uses another single word to communicate her desire to be brought near them ("Kids!); she is fond of a statue at the park known as "The Philosophers," whom she refers to as "the guys." Unlike several months ago, she prefers sleeping in her own room just about all of the time. Sometimes, her mother and my conversations lead to a rebuke: "No talking!" So far as we can tell, these words mean "Talk to me!" And so we do.

Prodded Into Fun

2007-10-04T12:41:00.000-04:00

Annalee prefers to take her meals outdoors, but, partly because every time we open the door to the back porch a few insects like to make the transition from garden flies to house flies and partly because our two dogs like to make the transition from inside dogs to outside dogs (and vice-versa) while the door is open too, getting everyone seated around the patio table can be a challenge. So, we typically only indulge our princess five or six times a week. Being outside is its own pleasure, and it's good to be prodded into doing something fun.

It is a fine line between creating a tyrant and creating someone with a profound sense of possibilities.

A Good Thing

2007-09-28T23:11:00.000-04:00

Annalee went to one of the freshwater pools in Austin today -- twice, once with Mommy and once with Daddy. We've got our angel in swim lessons on Thursday evenings, and it's our belief that being in water more often can't hurt. As for the separate trips to the pool on a Friday, Daddy and Annalee went during Mom's work day, and it turned out that, great as that was (and it was), Mom's absence had been keenly felt. Annalee is feeling more comfortable in the water, as exhibited by reaching down into water as deep as she is to get my watch off the bottom twice today. It's how I was taught to swim, more or less, and it pairs the fascination with bright shiny objects with our instinctive ability to hold our breath and draw ourselves forward. I'm trying to be patient with the swim instruction in the class, though it appears to me that they're on a pace for the kids to be safe and secure on their own in the water ten to twelve years from now. If somehow, through the combination of everyone's efforts (Mommy's, Daddy's, and the swim instructors'), Annalee ends up loving water the way I did throughout my childhood and ever since, then that would be a good thing.

"Come on!"

2007-09-27T00:13:00.000-04:00

Somehow, my wife and I seem to be raising a future leader. "Come on!" Annalee says, beckoning me or my wife, or both of us, to accompany her to the next piece of playground equipment, to walk the dogs around the block, to sit at the piano and play as a duo (or trio). She says the words all day, every day, in situations we could not have anticipated. Besides being a natural reaction to being a nearly powerless little person in a world of big people, it is among the most endearing pronouncements I have heard. I'm beginning to say it more and more myself. "Come on!"

As of today, September 26, she intends to be a blue bird (not necessarily a bluebird) for Halloween.

I Like This

2007-09-20T15:20:00.000-04:00

At two years, one month, and twenty days, Annalee's ten favorite foods, in no particular order, are as follows:

1. Salmon
2. Steak
3. Annie's Pasta
4. Home-made pasta
5. Pizza
6. Grilled chicken
7. Raw tomatoes (preferably grape tomatoes, preferably halved)
8. Waffles
9. Grapes (halved)
10. Chocolate

Other favorites include watermelon, pancakes, and eggs. Very few things is she interested in eating on her own. But if you're eating with her, she'll roll her eyes and make little moans to let you know she's enjoying the food and enjoying eating with you. "I like this," she says.

Daddy workin'?

2007-09-18T22:35:00.000-04:00

A few more translations of Annalee's special language: "Breakfast outside" means "I would like for the family to take breakfast in the glorious fresh air of God and nature, and I would like to do so now." "Naked baby" means "Please remove my clothing, not including my diaper, so that I may leave my cares behind." "Daddy workin'?" Means "Do the rigors of the national economy require us to be separated as you sit in front of your computer in your office again today, Daddy?" "Dada shoes" means "You told me five minutes ago we're going to the park. I see that you don't have your shoes on. Is there a reason for that, Dad?"

Wonderful to See

2007-09-17T09:22:00.000-04:00

At two years, one month of age, our precious sweetness is developing an independent streak. If at all possible, she would like the following demands to be met: Access to the dining room table (to eat meals and/or survey everything in the vicinity from the height of big people), not to be carried from room to room without written permission, more chocolate, to walk the dogs "naked" (meaning in only a diaper), to sit in the driver's seat of Mommy's car while Mommy sits in the backseat, to ride horseback on the family dog Boo, ditto on Mommy and Daddy, to watch "The Sound of Music" once a day in its entirety, and to cut her own food. We know from our parenting books, and from our inner wisdom, what a good sign it is for a child Annalee's age to develop likes and dislikes and the ability to express them. So, that's one thing. The other thing is that it is wonderful to see.

Mine!

2007-09-14T15:10:00.000-04:00

Annalee, like all new two-year-olds, is in the midst of learning to "share." I find it odd that human beings with limited verbal skills, who've just begun to comprehend the idea of ownership, and whose socialization is far from complete are expected to do something on a daily basis that most adults do very, very seldom. When was the last time you saw a 35-year-old walk up to a 45-year old at the park and ask to borrow their new i-Phone? Meanwhile, children Annalee's age are expected to hand over their dolls, balls, and toys at a moment's notice. As Annalee's parents, Kim and I, inevitably, are caving to the bizarre social pressure on this topic, though not indiscriminately. And we're being honest with Annalee that she is being asked to do something that she won't be asked to do anywhere near as often when she is older (and, ironically, could handle it better).

One More Day

2007-07-08T16:29:00.000-04:00

Annalee has a play cell phone, a play laptop, and a play tape recorder. The cell phone itself records a few seconds of someone speaking, and Mommy has put a message for Annalee on it that Annalee listens to from time to time. "It's Mommy; I love you," it says. The green plastic laptop I remove from Annalee's play area whenever I see it and put it up high or someplace out of sight. The cell phone is sort of fun; Annalee practices having conversations on it, when she's predisposed to do so. Yesterday, I'm informed, on the next-to-last day before my return from England, Annalee said into her pink phone, "Ahhhh, Daddy, homey." One more day.

To Row or Not to Row

2007-07-07T17:52:00.000-04:00

I'm not completely clear whether I will encourage my daughter to become a rower. Here at Henley, ample evidence exists of the obsessive nature of crew, from the blisters and calluses to the massive leg muscles to the steely look in the competitors' eyes. All sports, of course, are competitive and require sacrifice. But crew does seem to be an activity that asks for an especially high number of sacrificial gifts: other interests, career, friendships, even family. I fought while rowing actively in college to maintain a "balanced" student career (writing for the newspaper, teaching French drill class, and brushing up my classical guitar from time to time). Rowing on a top-flight college crew these days, though, really does seem to be an all-or-nothing deal. On the other hand, it may be that my sport was exactly what I needed to get me through and to strengthen me for the other interests that exist in my life. I was discussing my quandary with the parent of a Brown rower one day, and she pointed out that as serious as the dilemma of what direction to push my daughter in might seem, I might want to consider the odd chance that Annalee will do what she's going to do, no matter how hard she's pushed -- or in what direction.

Sleep

2007-07-07T03:51:00.000-04:00

Annalee has presence. People have seen it since she was born. Part of it is how much she observes with her dark-brown eyes, taking in each person in a room one at a time. Part of it is a more transcendent quality, a light in and near her that, if we lived in Tibet, would make me fear the monks' coming for her as a Lama. She was willing, praise God, to speak on the phone last night, telling me that she and Mom were on their way to pick up Boo. Perhaps hearing her voice for a few moments was why I had such a good night's sleep.

Only Time Will Tell

2007-07-05T17:36:00.000-04:00

I can't say that every time I phone home (or wherever Kim and Annalee are) Annalee wants to talk to Daddy. She didn't today, for instance. Partly it's an exercise of her free will. Partly she may be overwhelmed in a given moment with other stimulation. Partly she may be expressing distress by refusing to talk to Daddy. And sometimes, too, she may simply not want to talk to me. I'm sure I'll be used to it 30 or 40 years from now.

Dooga-Dooga Boom

2007-07-04T17:12:00.000-04:00

So, a whole bunch of firsts are happening while Daddy is on the other side of the Pond and Kim and Annalee are with family in Rhode Island. Well, two things anyway. Today's was Annalee jumping from the side of the pool at Nonny's house into Mommy's arms in the water. First Kimmy told me the story over the phone, then Annalee. Annalee's version went like this: "Jaja dooga-dooga BOOM." I can't wait to see it in person.

Equestrian Antics

2007-07-03T16:57:00.000-04:00

I phoned home from England and learned an amazing thing. Today, for the first time, Annalee rode a pony. She rode around the ring three times and had a look of profound satisfaction on her face. When I asked her if she had ridden Flicka, namesake of her favorite movie, she said, "Meo," short for "Romeo," the name of the pony. (The rest of the story I got from Kimmy.) I would have loved to see Annalee's triumph with my eyes, but I see it in my heart.

Still Recovering

2007-07-02T11:41:00.000-04:00

While Annalee has uttered quite a number of words, two particular ones had not been said together before a phone call from Texas to Rhode Island this morning. I have learned in the course of not quite two years of fatherhood that you cannot predict what gestures, words, or moments will reach into your insides and untie you, painfully and beautifully. I have also learned that it doesn't take much. "Hi, Dad" might not seem like devastatingly beautiful words coming from a toddler over a long-distance line, but I know otherwise. I'm still recovering.

Week From Tomorrow

2007-07-02T00:21:00.000-04:00

Annalee and Kim left for Rhode Island today, where they'll pass much of the time that Daddy will spend in England. You would think, from the sound of things, that we're talking about months here, or at least weeks, when really it's a matter of days. On the other hand, when one is very little, an hour can last a whole day; a whole day can last weeks. So, part of me knows that the separation will seem longer to my princess than it may to her folks. On the other hand, the child sense of time has been returning to me to some degree since becoming a parent. All of this is to say that I cried a little saying goodbye to my muffin this morning, as I expect I will saying hello a week from tomorrow.

Yes

2007-06-30T23:26:00.000-04:00

The verbal flood has begun. Nouns, prepositions, modifiers, and even verbs are cascading from our precious daughter's lips. Nearly all of them mean what she thinks they mean; all of them are beautiful. Still, there are "baby words," the sounds that we can't quite, yet, understand. My particular joy, in fact, are the sentences comprised of eighteen or twenty words, clearly expressing complex ideas, and not one syllable of which I can decipher. I nod with every ounce of sincerity in my soul. "Yes, honey. Yes."

If Just For a Moment

2007-06-29T00:16:00.000-04:00

My main point of connection with Annalee today, a day that saw me accomplish an ungodly number of tasks away from home and the familial fold, was when I took her to the playground just before dinner for half an hour of slow fun. We played with the ship-telephone system, taking turns talking and listening, and then Annalee made the first of several meandering trips up the play equipment stairs. Generally, but not always, she will get to the top of the stairs and head straight down the nearest slide (within a minute or so, anyway), but tonight she chose to wait four or five minutes before heading down the four-foot slide. The long wait did not diminish her joy, or the smile on her face, as she slid. Near the end of our time at the playground, she climbed the stairs to the higher platform and its opposing pair of longer slides, one straight and one curly, positioning herself at the takeoff point for the fastest slide in the park (it's the straight one). She waited just a few seconds and started down, her arms squeaking on the plastic behind her as she flew. Again, she was present for her own accomplishment, wonder, and joy. To slow down, if for just a moment.

A Sin Not To

2007-06-27T23:45:00.000-04:00

Today at Whole Foods a young woman was serving slices of pork sausage that she took from a griddle beside her. I took a piece, bit a tiny chunk from it, blew on it, and gave it to Annalee, who (I happened to know) was hungry. She began to make her loudest stream of "this-is-delicious, give-me-more" sounds and I was reminded, as I have been before, how insane it is that we are taught to unlearn this instinctual behavior. Food is a miraculous blessing, one that not everyone enjoys every day to their heart's content, and to signal pleasure audibly in the experience of eating is like shouting "Hallelujah." And it is a sin not to.

Mercilessly and Often

2007-06-26T23:19:00.000-04:00

Daddies learn. Having worn out our first inflatable pool in a few short weeks, Annalee and I returned to the local sports warehouse and purchased our second. I was actually trying to drive through the sports store parking lot on my way to the pet supply store, when Annalee, recognizing the name of the store (Academy) and the shape of the facade (it was a different one than where we did our shopping a few weeks back), cried out, "Pool!" There had been, admittedly, some talk about purchasing a new pool around the house of late. And it would have been unlike me not to reward genius when I saw it. I was wise enough to buy a slightly larger, slightly sturdier pool, and an electric pump to inflate it. The family took a little dip (literally) about a half hour after sundown, with Annalee (as hose master) dousing yours truly pretty much mercilessly (and gleefully) and often.

Probably a Shame

2007-06-25T22:43:00.000-04:00

We had a relatively formal Monday lunch today (Mommy, Daddy, and Annalee) at a restaurant we like on Austin's east side. Annalee, as often happens when we take her places, made several friends, in this case in the dining room and on the porch in front of the front door. She's good at initiating and receiving eye contact, smiles, and coy looks. It's probably a shame that adults aren't encouraged to be as warm to one another out in the world as babies get away with being.

Piece by Piece

2007-06-22T23:28:00.000-04:00

We did return to the horse farm today. Annalee urged that we feed certain of the maned giants apples, and not others. When I was feeding one of the animals that she had identified, she sat in my arm in far more relaxed fashion than yesterday -- or during any other feeding session. As we drove from the stables to the Ladybird Johnson Wildflower Center, she asked for pieces of apple herself, which I fed her, one by one, with one hand, while I drove with the other. Her car seat is in a captain's chair behind the front passenger seat, and I've learned how to deliver her pea-sized bits of food without turning my head. So, today she asked for and received about ten such morsels of a Granny Smith apple that I found pretty tart. Eventually, I had a moment where I could look her way and see how things were going. She was finishing her most recent bite, and her entire face was screwed up into a pucker. It turned out I'd missed a whole drama, piece by piece.

Probably Tomorrow

2007-06-22T01:04:00.000-04:00

Life is interesting. Annalee pleads to go see "neighs" -- horses -- and when we go see them, and get near them, she holds me as tight as she can and hides her face on my shoulder.

"Do you want to go home?" I ask her.

"No," she replies.

"Do you want me to feed them more apples?"

"No."

"Do you want to look at other neighs?"

"No."

"Do you want to go home?"

"No."

When, finally, I conclude that she has withstood as much of whatever joy the experience might be giving her, I say, "Goodbye, horses."

"Goodbye, Flicka," she says, alluding to the horse in her favorite movie.

We'll return as soon as she asks, probably tomorrow.

I Will

2007-06-21T01:07:00.000-04:00

Interested in organic farming and in spending quality time with Annalee whenever possible, I asked her a simple question at about 9 this morning. "Do you want to go see bok-bok?" "Yeah," she said. Unfortunately, I asked my question about an hour before I got us ready to leave the house. "Bok-bok," she said. "See bok-bok." Eventually, we did get in the minivan and drive through the lesser end of a pretty good rainshower. Once at the market, we shopped among the wooden tables for our tomatoes and whatnot, a tin roof keeping us dry. "Bok-bok," Annalee said. "Do you want to see them, even though it's raining?" I asked. "Bok-bok," she said. We finished our shopping and went to see the chickens. As luck would have it, the unwalled shed where they dry garlic was near enough to the chicken coop for us to take in the scene without getting too wet. Most of the twenty or so chickens were walking about in the rain, pecking at a couple of circular trays of feed that had been left out for them. After a good fifteen minutes of watching them together, I asked Annalee if she wanted to go home. "No, bok-bok," she said. When, a few minutes later, I made an executive decision that we go attend to our next errand, I had one squirmy, and seemingly unhappy, girl in my arms. She may or may not have known that I would be bringing her back to the farm next week, but I will.

Just Right

2007-06-19T22:44:00.000-04:00

Texas felt hot upon the family's return early this afternoon. The air was hot when we stepped out of the terminal; the minivan was hot from baking in the sun; our home was hot from having the air conditioning off during our absence. Annalee, like her father, does not thrive in such conditions. We cranked up the a.c. and watched the temperature readout barely move for more than an hour, and then someone said the magic word: "Pool." We blew up the inflatable pool, which was leaking air at a pretty good clip, enough to hold about half the normal amount of water. And then Mommy, Daddy, and Annalee took turns spraying the hose on each other and dumping buckets of water from the pool on one another's heads. Within about fifteen minutes, Texas seemed just right.

Rocking Out

2007-06-17T09:51:00.000-04:00

If you've had a child in the past few years, then you know that there is an all-ages rock star by the name of Dan Zanes. Former frontman for the band the Del Fuegos, Zanes decided several years back that the "children's music" available for purchase and listening was frozen-stiff, and he decided to do something about the situation. Annalee and her mommy and daddy had the good fortune to take in a show by Zanes and his six-piece band yesterday afternoon at the Rhode Island School of Design auditorium. The music and atmosphere were effervescent; the crowd was as happy an assortment of children and parents as it is possible to find. Annalee, spooked by some costumed performers outside the hall, warmed to the music after a song or two, wiggling first in my lap and then her mommy's. She clapped to the rhythm and danced in front of the stage on a couple of occasions. Dad, meanwhile, sang harmony on every number he knew at all -- and some he didn't. Zanes autographed three CDs for us when the show was over, and it will be a day to remember.

Absence Makes the Heart Grow

2007-06-16T08:35:00.000-04:00

When we visit my daughter's native state, work brings me away from the family fold more than when we are at home. Among the results of this separation: I see less of my daughter than usual, sometimes a lot less. In the meantime, she is receiving (and giving) love and affection to her mom's side of the family and generally having a grand old time. Somehow, though, alongside the all of the excitement and joy, I think she probably misses me. Nothing else could explain the way she relaxed in my arms for a few minutes this morning before I left the house.

Just a Little Space, Please

2007-06-14T13:51:00.000-04:00

Our girl is a traveler. She has flown to Hawaii, California, and back and forth from Texas to Rhode Island several times, and, until yesterday, she was content to do all her flying in Mama's lap. She realized halfway to Atlanta, on the first leg of the journey, that every person on the plane except her had their own seat. So, when Dad went to use the restroom, she crawled into his seat and was not happy to see me upon my return. On the leg from Atlanta to Providence, mercifully, a seat was open across the aisle, and Dad dutifully deposited himself in it to free up a spot for our very big girl.

ASAP

2007-06-12T23:35:00.000-04:00

Annalee saw fit to ride two of the larger slides at the playground. The first was one with a bump halfway down, which she had ridden while holding my hand a few times in the past. Today, she insisted on going it alone several times, smiling at the top with the expectation of the experience and the satisfaction of feeling courageous. The second was a tubular slide I'd considered too intimidating for the foreseeable future. Well, the foreseeable future ended at about 12:18 p.m. on this Tuesday. Annalee allowed me to position her at the top of the long, angled tube and to run to the bottom before beginning her ascent. Still visibly brimming with the victory over the first slide, she started down the -- to her -- giant tube. She appeared, sliding on her shortpants, using her feet to get her past a few slow patches, to be the happiest person on earth to be coming down the birth canal. She was radiant, triumphant, and extremely present -- and very interested in getting on the stair-ladder and onto the top of the slide again as soon as humanly possible.

First Flight, Of Sorts

2007-06-12T00:25:00.000-04:00

Annalee and I made a trip to Zilker Park with the express intention of putting a kite in flight. The wind was not too terrific on the hillside I found, so, though I got our kite up in the air for a minute or so on my own (with Annalee rooting me on), not even my running would keep it airborne. What that meant, I'm happy to report, was that in order to make a more realistic attempt to fly our red-white-and-black vinyl kite we would need two people on the team (and not just in name). I put the green string handle in Annalee's right hand and ran to hold the kite until a gust came. She held the plastic handle firmly, and when I released the kite it soared 75 feet into the sky in about two seconds. Annalee was tugging rhythmically at the string as though she had been flying kites for years. Before very long, maybe a minute and a half, the kite tumbled again to earth. We repeated the experiment several times, and had success several times. Seeing the look on the face of a not-quite-two-year-old girl as she controls a flying apparatus high in the air above her is an experience I can wholeheartedly recommend.

"Other Neigh"

2007-06-10T23:12:00.000-04:00

Once we'd mentioned that we intended to take the family to see "neigh," finishing lunch became out of the question. We might just as well have told someone who'd spent months in a dark cave that we'd located a way out, but just wanted to have a sandwich before exiting into the sunlight.
"We're just going to have half a sandwich, baby."
"Neigh," she said.
"Just a few bites."
"Neigh."
"One more bite."
"Neigh!"
So, "neigh" it was. At the ranch, it turned out that the creatures were still, as they had been in wintertime, shockingly large. Mom and Dad took turns feeding them apples through the gates of their stall (as instructed by the ranch staff), while baby took turns clasping herself to our chest. Of course, when we offered to go home, she politely declined. "Other neigh," she said. We showed her another animal, and another, until even our great fan of the "neigh" was ready to go home.

"Monkey"

2007-06-09T21:48:00.000-04:00

Sometimes, more often than two months ago, Annalee asks to be held by her daddy. I've been proud to witness the bonding between my daughter and my wife, but I must admit that being singled out for my daughter's affection of late has held a certain sweetness for me.

Our angel has been in a reading phase again, and the book of choice at present is "Curious George Goes Fishing." She asks for it by name: "Monkey." There is a second Curious George Book -- "Curious George Goes to the Movies" -- that she owns, and you would think that calling the fishing book "Monkey" could lead to some confusion. But that is not the case. When she says, "Monkey," she always means the fishing book.

Another Can of Formula

2007-06-09T01:41:00.000-04:00

Most surprising thing I've seen myself do since becoming a father: opening a can of formula with a manual can opener using only one hand. Not real often, but occasionally, Annalee needs a bottle right away and also needs not to be put down. This led, inevitably, to a conundrum. At some point, several months ago, I decided to simply try opening a can with my right hand while holding Annalee in my left. I succeeded, though not especially smoothly. In the handful of times I've performed the trick since, I've gotten slightly smoother, the key being to stop viewing it as a big deal. Annalee, hungry and tired on these occasions, hasn't appeared too terribly impressed by the feat. Who can blame her? It's just Dad opening another can of formula, after all.

Paper Pages

2007-06-08T00:12:00.000-04:00

Richard Scarry's "The Best First Book Ever" is at the top of the reading list at our house. Though it contains a couple of dozen pages, Annalee finds the first two-page spread to be entertaining enough to tarry for fifteen minutes or so (before putting the book down again until next time). Her eye and mind are drawn to the cat driving a pickle car, a doggy policeman on a motorcycle, and, especially, a baby cat being pushed in a stroller by its cat mom. "Baby, walk," Annalee says. "The Best First Book Ever" is not her first book with non-cardboard pages, but it is the first such book whose pages she has seen fit to leave unbended.

"Mulk"

2007-06-06T23:06:00.000-04:00

The language explosion continues. "Dada hold you" means "Pick me up, Dad, and hold me." "Seepy seepy" means "I want to pretend to fall asleep for a while." "Home" means "Let's go home," "We're almost home," "We're home," and "home." "Mama home" means "When will Mom be home?" and "Mom's home." "Hot" means any perceptible temperature differential, be it cold or warm. "Food" means "I'm hungry." "Mulk" means "milk." "Nee" means "Let's go watch the feature film about horses, 'Flicka,' " as well as "Hey, look, there's a horse by the side of the road." "Knee" means "My leg" (anywhere from ankle to hip).

By the Hour

2007-06-05T23:25:00.000-04:00

Occasionally, Annalee's eyes are such a dark brown as to look black. A couple of elderly people have remarked on her "black" eyes, which to me connects to the princesses with "black" eyes in nineteenth-century literature. All such comparisons and determinations aside, her eyes do take on a depth of dark-chocolate brown that you don't see every day. She has begun not only to laugh at our jokes but to tell her own, by the way. Her personhood and personality grow by the hour.

Dada Dig

2007-06-05T00:16:00.000-04:00

"Dada sit," Annalee said, herself sitting in a sea of pebbles under the playscape at the park. "Dada sit," she said again, even though I was on my way to honoring the original command. She was digging with a stick, quite a lot like a monkey in the forest. "Dada dig," she said. I did some of my own monkey digging, complimenting her on the work she was doing and explaining, a little academically, why the pebbles were moist a couple of inches beneath the surface (from last night's rain). "Ohhhh," she said.

Sleepy Reunion

2007-06-04T00:19:00.000-04:00

Dad won no "hardware" (medals) for rowing today -- no golds, silvers, or bronzes to put in my baby's clapping hands. I will have to settle for kissing her goodnight in her sleepy warmth, which, of course, isn't settling at all. My mind is telling me tonight that rowing competitively, and rowing-related travel, is anti-family and therefore not part of the long range plan for yours truly. I was away, after all for more than half the weekend. But it is not impossible that being fit and pursuing all of my dreams, even the athletic ones, is going to be part of being a good father in the end. Time to go give that kiss.

A Little Bit Humbling

2007-06-03T01:01:00.000-04:00

Dada is in Oklahoma City tonight, preparing for his first rowing regatta in 25 years. (He is hopeful and determined.) As I prepared to leave Austin around mid-day, Annalee seemed more aware than ever of our impending separation. She hugged me tight and grabbed my shirt in her hand -- a first. Then she asked to be let down, ran to the other side of the house, and then bolted back toward where I crouched waiting to hug her and congratulate her on her speed. We repeated this five or six times, until her shoulders were rising and falling from breathing hard. Knowing that she would miss me during my overnight trip was a little bit sad, and a little bit humbling. How I would love to bring her (and Mama) back a medal.

The Drive Home

2007-06-01T23:23:00.000-04:00

All right, so I'm a little predictable: After getting my feet wet with "Free Willy" with Kim and Annalee, I drove Annalee 75 miles to Sea World San Antonio today for a live viewing of Shamu XIII. Annalee was not convinced for the last 15 of those miles that the endeavor was a good idea. At all. I kept saying "whale," and eventually we pulled into the gargantuan parking lot ($14 poorer already). We paid, threw on someone's shoes (that had been taken off in the minivan), and hurtled through the park to Shamu's Stadium, where we caught the last half of a 20-minute show. Though we were at the top of the seating area, Annalee seemed to take in that there are some big critters in the world and that her new favorite movie had even more dimension than she realized. Of the smaller creatures she saw today, she was especially pleased by the pink flamingos, the goldfish, and the sea lions, though the largest of these last was enough to warrant a frightened grasp onto yours truly. The drive home was one long nap.

The Little Things

2007-05-31T22:50:00.000-04:00

We're in the midst of a "Free Willy" festival at our house that started last night and gives every indication of ending two or three years from now. Tonight at dinner, Annalee kept saying "Dada" and pointing upstairs -- where, it turned out, she wanted to show me some of her new favorite movie. We sat down on the dog's bed together, where the family watches a fair amount of what TV and movies we watch, and Annalee's arm started making flipper movements mimicking the orca on the screen. I could be wrong, but I was pretty sure she had no idea what her arm was doing. Either way, her arm moved around and around and up and down for at least ten seconds, and seeing it felt like the most important thing that has ever happened to me.

Curly

2007-05-31T00:02:00.000-04:00

A certain someone by the name of Annalee has some pretty curly hair. (It's also pretty.) And it has come to my attention that brushing this out every day might be a good idea -- nothing involved, just a minute or two. It turns out that I brushed my sister's hair quite a lot when we were little kids. She may have been the reason that the No More Tangles product line was invented, and was profitable. Little Annalee, so far, tolerates my efforts to attend to her hair needs. Even when I hit a snag (I hold the hair to keep it from being yanked reasonably well, but I'm not perfect), she sits calmly and lets me finish. I, of course, intend for the experience to be as pleasant as possible for her, and so far as I can tell she understands.

I Probably Have

2007-05-29T22:27:00.000-04:00

Annalee still takes bottles, generally from Dada, but occasionally from Mama, too. Not a lot of parents give their children formula so far into the second year; many stop at the end of the first year. She also, though, continues to breastfeed. And she also eats a wide variety of solid foods with gusto. Among the reasons that I wanted to postpone bottle weaning was that I didn't want to be perceived as the withholding parent. Call me selfish, if you will. But there were other reasons, too. For one thing, removing sources of comfort from a child before she is able to verbalize her wants and needs and feelings was counter-intuitive to my wife and me. For another, there has been a natural flow around the subject of nourishment, as though our baby was glad to try as many foods as she has in part because we weren't forcing anything in the way of addition or subtraction on a dietary level. But the great reason that I have kept feeding my child bottles past when many would have suggested was the obvious bonding that takes place between us when I feed her in this way. I don't need a pair of breasts, and don't want a pair of breasts. But I have certainly yearned at times to duplicate the closeness shared by my precious daughter and beloved wife, and, now and then, I think I probably have.

The Big Weekend

2007-05-28T22:53:00.000-04:00

I should apologize for not posting for a couple of days; the pressure of having fun, and of being a parent, can wear a person out. Annalee enjoyed her shovel and pail, so long as neither were anywhere near the beach. It turns out that sand is not her very favorite thing, least of all underneath her feet. So, instead of making sand castles (which I tried once with her, anyway), she played with water on the beach house deck, dumping it from pail to dump truck to shovel -- and around again. She thoroughly enjoyed the kite I bought to fly with her, for somewhere between fifteen and twenty seconds. We'll fly it again at the park another day. She was a trooper on both four-hour-plus drives, calling out "Home!" a dozen or more times on the road north today.

"Boat"

2007-05-26T02:12:00.000-04:00

Annalee and I grabbed lunch at a trendy pizzeria on South Congress, fueling ourselves for an afternoon of pre-beach errands. She ate a good many bites of her plain cheese slice, but seemed unimpressed by the loud music and pseudo-hip atmosphere. "Park," she kept saying for the latter half of the repast. Having paid and gotten out the door, we ran through rain to the minivan, drove 50 yards, and ran through more rain to our favorite toy store in search of a kite and a plastic pale and shovel for our big trip to the coast. The store is on the verge of moving to another location and had sold out of both things we came for, so we drove to another toy emporium across town. We chose the simplest (but not smallest) kite we could find, one that looks to be a good flyer. We also got a sand-castle set -- all the plastic implements that could be crammed into a bucket and sold for $12.99. After a four-hour drive south, we parked the minivan on a ferry and waited for it to cross the three-hundred-yard channel separating us from Port Aransas. As we crossed, I said to my wife that I thought it was the first boat Annalee had been on, and Annalee opened her eyes from a lengthy nap, took in the scene, and said "boat."

More on Bubbles

2007-05-24T22:41:00.000-04:00

Annalee, as has been alluded to, is fond of bubbles. The way she says the word "bubbles" is one way of knowing this; another is to hear how often she repeats it when she is interesting in having Daddy make bubbles for her entertainment. As luck would have it, the open bottle of bubbles had fallen into the tub recently without Daddy's knowledge and would no longer form bubbles, for too much water in the mix. Fortunately, Daddy knew to mix the liquid baby soap/shampoo with the remaining bubbles and pretty much saved the day. The resulting mixture created fewer, larger bubbles than what came from the store. Some were six inches across, which was about the size of Annalee's eyes when she saw them come her way in the bathtub.

Other Shoes

2007-05-22T22:07:00.000-04:00

We occasionally worry at my house that we could "spoil" our daughter. Our intention, of course, is to provide her with just the right amount of love, but we're well aware that some of the indulgences we feel comfortable providing would be less comfortable for some. Tonight, Annalee wanted to walk to the mailbox with Mama, Dada, and Boo-Dog. Mom put on Annalee's sandals to get ready for the journey. As we were leaving the house, Annalee said something (Boo and I were just out of earshot), and I saw Mama and baby go back in the house. When they came back out, Annalee had on different shoes. My first reaction was "That's spoiling her." But when I learned that Annalee had specifically asked for "other shoes," her first use of the word "other," I understood -- and approved. How could I not?

A Hundred-Yard Walk

2007-05-21T23:54:00.000-04:00

Annalee and I like to watch Barton Creek, just below the pool, on our trips to Zilker Park. The rapids are meditative, and there is a surprising nature vibe for someplace in the middle of a city. Today, we heard some geese honking and meandered a hundred yards closer to where they were paddling around in a quieter patch of creek. There were several large white geese with black beeks that covered half their faces, one swan, and a handful of ducks. Annalee, reasonably enough, referred to them all, collectively, as "ducks." She honked back at them a number of times, safely perched in my arms, and took in the scene with bright eyes and a look of humorous wonder on her mouth. It was worth the hundred-yard walk.

Baby Talk?

2007-05-20T22:15:00.000-04:00

Today's activities: reading in bed, guided aerial gymnastics (a.k.a. One For the Money), pool hour, and a few family meals. The vocabulary explosion continues, as does the efficacious pairing of words: "Mama home," "'walk Boo," "pool outside." It is impossible to conceive that these revolutionary moments of communication will one day seem like baby talk.

Two-Pool Family

2007-05-19T23:25:00.000-04:00

The words are coming fast and furious now: "box," "sticky," "food," "doggy," "sandwich," "pool," "seat." Sentences are trickling out as well: "I want more sandwich," "The ball is sticky," "I eat, too." Being witness to Annalee's word-birth is like seeing the most dramatic sunrise in one's lifetime: arresting, colorful, slow and fast at once. She changed into and out of her bathing costume (special diaper, neoprene beach shoes, and swim suit) three times today that I saw. She is ready to enjoy the next round of watery heaven as soon as she regains a degree or two of body warmth, and no longer wants the water in her bath to be warm. (Why have only one pool outdoors, when you can have a second one indoors?)

9 O'Clock on a Friday Morning

2007-05-18T23:03:00.000-04:00

Last night, for reasons too complicated to go into, Annalee was told she would have Annie's Pasta for dinner but ended up being offered something else. When I asked what she wanted for breakfast this morning, she didn't hesitate. "Pasta," she said. "Annie's Pasta?" I asked. "Yeah," she said. By the time I had the water on to boil, she was so impatient to eat it that I had to distract her with images of horses I found on Google. Even so, she was pulling at my leg and crying by the time I was through preparing her feast of feasts. She ate a plateful, eating one piece of bowtie pasta at a time with her own fork and taking two at a time from Dad.

I've long thought that breakfast food, particularly sweet breakfast food, is not what the body needs to start the day right. I know, too, that eating breakfast food for dinner from time to time can be fun. Basically, I'm so happy my daughter enjoys as many kinds of food as she does that the last thing I'm going to do is discourage her -- even if it does mean having cheddar-and-broccoli pasta at 9 o'clock on a Friday morning.

A Pool of One's Own

2007-05-17T22:50:00.000-04:00

Coming home to the sight of your 21-month-old daughter standing naked in her wading pool and yelling, "Dada!" is not a terrible experience. Annalee took to her pool on the first day, and has taken to it more each day. Note to self: buy a skimmer at sporting-goods store for bugs and everything else that winds up in your average suburban body of water, however minute. As for Annalee's watery adventures: I could be wrong, but I think she's sleeping better at night. What is more relaxing, I wonder, than spending time in one's own little pool?

Hopefully Soon

2007-05-16T22:48:00.000-04:00

Dads grow bellies. Not all of them, but most. Mine is an inch or two farther out than the day my daughter was born, and God knows she's not too worried about it. I'm confident, in fact, that just as I wish only for her happiness, she wishes only for mine. I have grown this belly, for the record, by eating more eggs than in many years previous; taking the occasional dessert (even ice cream), after generally abstaining from sugar for years; eating Mexican food with impressive frequency since moving to Austin; and walking less than I did, say, when I was a younger man living in New York City. If I am to sincerely convey to my daughter that however she looks, weight-wise, is fine with me, I will somehow need to convey the same thing to myself, and hopefully soon.

Water World

2007-05-15T23:32:00.000-04:00

I knew that I had loved my kiddie pools when I was a wee lad, and I suspected that Annalee would feel the same way. She does. I did not know how challenging blowing up the pool I got at the sports supply store tonight would be. I'm not completely sure if it was less-than-world-class valves or less-than-world-class wind on the part of yours truly. It was less that my lungs tired, really, than the way my cheeks felt, which was stretched beyond reason. Annalee tried several times to come help me blow on the valve, blowing in the air a few inches away from where Daddy was straining. That alone made my fifteen minutes of "work" worth it. That she was enraptured by her new "baby pool," as she called it, and screamed when pulled from the water 30 minutes after I put her in made the trip to the store and the set-up seem like something out of a fairy tale. We will return to her new watery glen tomorrow.

Tiny Zen

2007-05-14T22:33:00.000-04:00

Having been once before to the Children's Museum, today we returned for the Monday morning sing-a-long. I had forgotten what happens at the end, but Annalee had not. A few bars into the first song, "Wheels on the Bus," she looked hard into my eyes and said, "Bubbles?" It had been a few months since we were last there, and I was happy and proud that my daughter's memory was so acute. Nonetheless, it turned out that cajoling her through the rest of the suddenly dreary program was no mean feat. "Bubbles?" she said, every twenty or thirty seconds. "They're coming -- I promise," I intoned. When they did come, she stood a few feet from the bubble machine, and let hundreds of inch-diameter bubbles descend near and on her like snow. She neither shouted nor laughed, but simply exuded a Buddha-like sense that all was right with the world.

A Sunday to Remember

2007-05-13T22:57:00.000-04:00

We went to see our cousin's mom's grave site today, and it turned out that seeing a couple of toddlers hustling around a cemetery is a very life-affirming experience -- even on Mother's Day. The burial stones are simply beautiful, one presumes, in the eyes of a two-year-old; and they are that, sometimes, in my own eyes as well. On the lighter side, we enjoyed bringing Mom her breakfast beverage in bed, where we gave her a Mother's Day gift Dad knew she'd enjoy -- a day at a spa. I got Annalee to be as complicit in the giving as I could, offering her the envelope behind my back and letting her hand it to Mama. A nice brunch at a good restaurant and plenty of time at the playground and in the front yard made for a Sunday to remember.

Deeper Love

2007-05-12T23:45:00.000-04:00

My wife and I have been hopeful that practicing the principles of Attachment Parenting -- baby wearing with a sling, co-sleeping, extended breastfeeding, and the like -- we might not see a real case of the "terrible" twos. And that might be the case. On the other hand, we've begun to see glimmers of willfulness, and occasionally aggression, that suggest the individuation, and detachment, of the third year is inevitable. A few things have been thrown on the floor, or across the room, the volume level has risen on a few of Annalee's negative outbursts, and our beloved princess has also struck out at her mommy once or twice. Our intention, as of today, is not to aggressively punish aggression, to use a firm, low voice, and to talk through every difficulty we can -- without banishment or any other kind of real punishment. We're not totally naive; we know that there will be hard moments, if not hard days, but I at least think that they will give us a deeper chance to love.

One Ball

2007-05-11T23:41:00.000-04:00

At Target today Annalee was less interested in sitting in Dad's shopping cart, and being wheeled beside the shorts and other summer clothing, than she was in some two-foot diameter inflatable balls sitting in a wire cage a few aisles over. "No," she said, eight or ten times. "We'll get you a ball, honey," I said, "but first we're going to get you some shorts." This was not the correct thing to say, it turns out. I was able, with significant undercover wheedling and cajoling, to gain her trust again when I let her walk beside the cart and occasionally help me push it. We bought six or eight pairs of shorts, a dress, some short overalls, and a couple of shirts. And then, of course, one ball.

Ready for the New Day

2007-05-11T00:07:00.000-04:00

It doesn't happen often that I barely see my angel for a whole day, but it happened today. Between Daddy's work, band rehearsal, and doctor's appointment, and baby's music class first thing in the morning, the two of us scarcely saw each other. It makes me want to sleep the night through in a single hour so I may see her at the beginning of our day together.

Something Special

2007-05-09T23:54:00.000-04:00

A few recent moments I don't want to forget: After watching Daddy play a gig in Rhode Island, Annalee sang all the way home to Grandma and Grampa's house; when we drove past where we'd had breakfast earlier in the day, Annalee said, "Taco!"; after refusing ten or twelve shirts or onesies this morning, Annalee answered in the affirmative to the question "Do you want to wear Daddy's shirt?" -- it was just a little long and a bit roomy, but she smiled like she was wearing something special.

Glad To

2007-05-08T22:49:00.000-04:00

Though for some time I was confident that the place in my heart reserved for my daughter could not expand, I was mistaken. With each incremental shift, toward warmth and away from reserve, it is as though a decades-old cramp were finally coming undone. The risk in loving so much seems irrationally large, but I am glad (and blessed) to be able to.

Quite the Chef

2007-05-07T23:57:00.000-04:00

Monday is have-lunch-with-Mommy day. Annalee and I get in the minivan, drive 15 minutes, and join my wife for (usually) Mexican food. Today, Annalee declined beans, rice, and same in a tortilla, but enjoyed plain tortillas, chips, salsa (!), and the lime from Daddy's iced tea. As is frequently the case, she also enjoyed the scene at the restaurant, taking in the people at the tables around us and reflecting the I-am-somebody ethos that she possesses.

Dinner at home was leftovers, including barbecued chicken that Daddy reheated on the grill. Annalee had bite after bite after bite, and I felt like the greatest chef on earth.

Maybe I Have

2007-05-06T23:20:00.000-04:00

At one point today on the back porch my wife was playing her new mandolin, I was singing and playing guitar, Annalee was accompanying us on her xylophone, and we sounded all right! I thought I might have died and gone to heaven for a minute there, and maybe I have.

Perhaps More Clearly

2007-05-04T23:15:00.000-04:00

The playground for our housing development includes a speaker-tube system, of the sort once kept on naval vessels, and Annalee recently decided that it merits some attention. She likes to stand with her ear to one of the funnel-ends, listen to Daddy's chatter, and then speak a little herself. "Mama" is generally the first word out of her mouth in this, and most, situations. Today she went through her litany, "Mama, Dada, Boo-Boo," and then she stood and breathed into her funnel. Twenty feet away, I heard the sound of my baby's existence as clearly, perhaps more clearly, than I ever have.

And So We Did

2007-05-04T00:12:00.000-04:00

Annalee woke glad to be at home and stayed that way most of the day. "Do you want to go pick up Boo-Boo?" I asked. "Yeah!" Once we had the family dog back from the kennel, Annalee celebrated by trying without success to affix stickers to him. Once Mom was home from work, she insisted on a family jaunt with her spiritual brother. "Walk? Boo-Boo?" she said. And so we did.

The Secret's Out

2007-05-02T08:57:00.000-04:00

A variety of Annalee's relatives in the Ocean State have expressed joyful surprise at her openness and exuberance during our stay here. "Night and day," one said. "She has been so outgoing this time." We've protested that she was always sweet, friendly, and funny at home, but I'm not sure anyone believed us. Our secret belief was that the consistent flow of attachment parenting love would eventually help our beloved daughter become grounded enough to stay centered around people of all dispositions.

I guess the secret's out.

At The Crow's Nest

2007-04-29T13:45:00.000-04:00

Annalee recently learned how to point. And, as has been documented here, she has been fond of the word "more" for some time. It took less than a day after learning the finger gesture to learn how to combine it with her beloved word. I find it charming.

At dinner last night, she finally began to give Pop, her great-grandfather, the impression that he was something other than terrifying, running around my chair to play peek-a-boo with him before running back, again and again. She ran a similar set of entertainments with various customers at the restaurant where we were, The Crow's Nest. After another night and day of being more seriously under the weather, it was a happy hour of distraction.

Under the Weather

2007-04-27T11:07:00.000-04:00

I've had a more or less serious cough for about ten days. Among the thoughts I've had about it: I'm not really sick; I don't deserve to be sick (meaning I don't deserve the designation "sick" and the compassion associated with it); I'm probably faking; etc. But now my precious little baby has the same cough, and a couple of things are taking place. One, I have instant, strong compassion for her. I know that she is suffering, and I know to respond to her with even more lovingkindness than usual. Two, I am being forced to confront the hypocrisy in my split stance on illness. If I allow no compassion for myself, how deep can my compassion for others, including my daughter, actually run? (I'll do my best today to be as kind to myself as I am to Annalee; I know that it will do us both good.)

Even When You're a Toddler

2007-04-25T20:36:00.000-04:00

The family has come to Annalee's natal country -- Rhode Island -- and she appears glad to be with her mom's people. Though she couldn't communicate, or even locomote very much, when we lived and visited here in the past, she was taking in more than we realized, than I realized. When we pulled into her great-grandparents' driveway today, she said, "Non and Pop." When she saw her aunt last night, she took her by the hand and led her to the exercise ball where she'd bounced on her aunt's leg once before. She has let her grandparents hold, hug, and kiss her far more than ever before. Absence makes the heart grow fonder, even when you're a toddler.

The Most Important Thing

2007-04-23T22:21:00.000-04:00

Annalee starts her naps at about 3 (give or take two hours), wakes after an hour, drinks from a bottle, and then falls asleep again. Unlike the first part of the nap when she sleeps alone, she insists on bagging the second half of her Z's draped across Dad's chest, heart to heart. If I slow my mind and focus, I can feel her tiny heart tapping against my chest at a higher clip than my own. It is probably the most important thing that has ever happened to me.

Good Words to Hear

2007-04-23T00:53:00.000-04:00

My angel has coupled some words, and spliced others, as the need has arisen. Indicating her knowledge of the family dog's main activity in the backyard proved none too difficult: "Boo-boo poo-poo." To request that her favorite person provide her with her favorite meal: "Mommies." (Nummies plus the celebrity that is Mom.) When I have recently come back from an errand or other activity, as I did today, the phrase is "Da-da home."

They are all good words to hear.

Maybe It Is

2007-04-22T00:56:00.000-04:00

I'm a less-than-completely-confident musician, but when I see Annalee dance to the music I play sometimes I have to ask myself, "Just how bad can my music be if someone is dancing that well to it?" My favorite is when she is having a hard go of life for a little while, when we're between trips to the playground, or she is feeling teething pain and no longer wants to play with toys, and I pick up my guitar. I'll grab it knowing that she may be up for it or not, and ready to put it down in a hurry if now is not the time. At any rate, on certain such occasions, Annalee will start nodding her head in rhythm, get her feet going, and then start a whirling, bobbing, rock-and-roll dance that I would have predicted a minute before wouldn't happen. And somehow it seems for a moment that music is healing the both of us, and maybe it is.

Making Faces

2007-04-20T23:03:00.000-04:00

People take my daughter seriously, and I guess they probably should. She has her serious face, a frown plus a scowl, plus a furrowed brow, and it has intimidated me once or twice. I did eventually work out that looking back at her no less seriously is the way through to her joyous heart, as evidenced by smiles and sweet laughter. And I've encouraged friends and family to do the same -- with the same results. But as for strangers who seem taken aback by her serious visage, and whom I can't all coach, it is up to them to decipher for themselves that she is a person. Young, yes, little, yes, but a person just the same.

When we finished today's choo-choo ride, she gave the experience a spontaneous round of applause, as she did once before. We live on that train.

Well Done!

2007-04-19T23:50:00.000-04:00

Being number two in the cosmic hierarchy of someone as enchanting as my daughter is pretty flattering, truth be told. Mommy is first, and that is as it should be. From time to time, though, and tonight was one of those times, Annalee wants to be with Da-da, even when Mommy is home. Tonight we watered a couple of plants together, one on the back porch and on on the front porch. When that was done we sat on the porch swing for a lazy, twenty-five-second ride. Then we sat on the front walkway and drew with our pavement chalk. "Do you want to go see Mommy," I asked, trying not to sound defensive. "No," she said. I'm quite confident that this was the first time this question was answered in such a way. I asked again, just to be sure. "No," she replied. Just as I was beginning to congratulate myself on being super-dad-o-rific enough to rival the great star in my baby's life I saw a familiar grimace on my princess's face. It's a look of stern concentration, moderate exertion, and flushing of the skin that accompanies only a single process in her life. So, yes, she wanted to spend a moment or two with Dad, but she also had a job to do. And I say, "Well done!"

Adorable, terrifying, and cute

2007-04-18T23:14:00.000-04:00

When uttered by my princess, "Up" means, "Pick me up and hold me in your arms." On average, she says this twenty-five times a day. (Bear in mind that her mom and I carry her around most of the time, voluntarily, happily.) There is no need to communicate up's antithesis, because letting her body go completely slack communicates the same thing a lot more effectively. And I don't just mean slack the way passive-resistance protesters go when they're being hauled off someplace by the police. I mean slack like water is slack. Holding on to Annalee, when she has decided that you are done holding her, at any time and for any reason, means you are going to have do some thinking, fast. You're going to have to think through how to hold a gallon of water in your arms, while, for instance, opening up the minivan door (even if this only involves pushing a button). You're going to have to consider how to control the effect of gravity if, as happens, it turns out that you won't be able to completely stop her downward progress but instead can only shape it. I hope this is not an awkard time to brag, but the way my daughter converts herself into a study in fluid dynamics is genius! And adorable, and terrifying, and cute.

Reality Check

2007-04-18T00:10:00.000-04:00

Annalee spent a couple of days with a fever, a runny nose, and seemingly more teething pain than ever. We think, but don't definitively know, that she cut one of her two-year-old molars. (She won't let us look or feel, but past episodes of this sort did coincide with the appearance of new teeth.) During part of her low-level ordeal she was more childlike, or simply younger, than usual, visibly thinking less, adventuring less, and letting us do more for her. It's not as though her mom and I needed a reality-check about how much we adore our princess, but we got one, nonetheless.

One of the highlights of the baby-is-sick episode was watching "The Price Is Right" as a family, which both baby's mom and dad had done when they were kids home sick from school. Sickness gives about the only free pass I've ever had to watch TV without guilt about wasting brain cells, and it is a priceless experience. I don't think Annalee took much from watching a gameshow about being a comparison (and effective) shopper, but she probably did gain something from being around her two parents when they were about as relaxed as they get, tickling her, wiping her nose, and just being a family.

Wonder Woman in Training

2007-04-13T23:55:00.000-04:00

Today I asked Annalee if she would like to hold on to the 21st-century monkey bar set-up at the playground, which she had done the other day for a few moments. When she said yes, I held her up to grip the handle, whereupon she supported her weight and pulled her knees up halfway to her chest. I never took my hands off her, but I stopped supporting her weight completely. She may have done a half pull-up at some point. I knew she was strong, but I didn't know how strong until today.

A Classic Comes to Life

2007-04-13T00:21:00.000-04:00

Annalee has been having "Goodnight Moon" read to her for about a year now. The hypnotic litany ("Goodnight room. Goodnight moon. Goodnight cows jumping over the moon") has seldom had the intended effect of being a lullabye, that I could detect, but she has simply liked the images and the words and the feel. Tonight, though, her breathing slowed and head slumped the way I thought it might so many months ago. We made it all the way through the book, and she didn't fall asleep for another twenty minutes or so, but the loving, lilting effect intended by the author, Margaret Wise Brown, I think made what will have been its inaugural appearance.

Miscellany

2007-04-12T00:32:00.000-04:00

Annalee's voice is husky and musical, like a miniature version of her mom's. "Choo-choo," she says softly, with a parenthetical question mark. "Shoes," she says like the command that it is ("Get up, we're going outside"). When she's fighting to stay awake at the hour mom gets home from work, avoiding her afternoon nap as though it meant something utterly horrible, she whispers, "Mom, home." Her laugh is, like many of the things she says, throaty.

While I was in the kitchen preparing dinner, I heard a scratching sound in the living room, but didn't register it. I heard it again and went to see what was causing the frenetic, restless sound. One of mom's colored art pencils was being employed to reconfigure a square column (just one side, fortunately). I knew it would eventually happen, and managed to simply say, "We can't do that, honey." Only time will tell if we in fact can or can't.

Later in the afternoon, after a few failed efforts to get her to see the light of reason on the subject of napping, I found her slumped in her high chair (where I'd left her with a pen and a pad of paper while I cooked), her eyes open, but only barely. A few ounces of ba-ba later, she was happily asleep. My precious angel.

Mirrors

2007-04-11T00:54:00.000-04:00

Today Annalee learned how to jump up and down on the couch, with bright eyes and a big smile. Mom acted as a hands-on spotter, and our princess got some height off the cushion with her feet -- poink-poink-poink. They'd been practicing while I was out and were both excited to show me. Annalee's other new trick is rolling her hands around and around like a disco-dancer. They may have taught it at the Children's Museum last week; or I may have taught it to her myself. You never know what will show up in the tiniest of mirrors.

Big Night

2007-04-10T00:46:00.000-04:00

Today Annalee and I played with Play-Doh, ate breakfast, got dressed, grabbed lunch with Mom, played at the park for the longest ever, came home and napped, did a couple of errands, ate tacos for dinner, went to a bookstore and got four children's books, and came home and fell asleep (after asking twelve or fifteen times the simple question "Mama?"). One highlight: making friends at the tacqueria/bakery/insurance agency/jewelry store with a Mexican father and daughter at a nearby table. By the end, we left with a Polaroid photograph of Wendy, age 7, who had lost a tooth at the dinner table, and Annalee, each of them looking pleased as punch to be sharing a hug, and a moment.

More Easter

2007-04-09T00:30:00.000-04:00

Today, on her second Easter, Annalee followed a trail of stickers on the carpet to her bedroom closet and there found her first Easter basket (that she noticed, anyway). Inside were bubbles, Play-Dough, a Play-Dough Fun Factory, a stuffed animal, and another toy or two. She went out to brunch with her cousins and some friends, and then came home for an Easter egg hunt, locating all twelve colored eggs (with a few well-placed hints from Dad). She was pleased about the entire day, but did mention that "more?" would be a good idea with the eggs.