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Our little boy

Archive for August, 2009

Summer 2009

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Packed, ready to hit the road

It is August, humid and hot, and it’s dawning on me that this summer is coming to an end. It’s not over yet, but it will be soon.

I’m neglect in updating this blog — I want to tell you about two trips you went on, plus your first Great Taste of the Midwest.

Back in June, your father and you and I took a camping trip — your first, and only one of a handful John and I have taken together — to Peninsula State Park, in Door County. We were more than a little nervous about this trip — it was our first time camping with a baby, for one thing, and we kept being told that we were brace — but we didn’t mean to be brave, so I think learning that we were doing something that required bravery was a little daunting. Your father took the day off before we left so he could spend it packing the car. As you can see, we did not pack light. We brought a large, two-room tent, your pack-n-play for sleeping and changing, both our bikes and your bike trailer, several bags of food and clothes, and lots of sunscreen and mosquito repellant.

Learning to pull yourself up

Learning to pull yourself up

The weather was fairly good except for a few rains. You were cranky in the car — this was our first time experiencing car crankiness, and we finally figured out on the way home that having me in the back solved the problem — and had trouble sleeping. We were up several times a night. It was on this trip that you started to stand up over and over in your pack-n-play — you’d done it once a week or so before, but now you really got the hang of it.

Your father cooked delicious meals and we put you in the Bumbo and fed you bananas and cereal and chicken and cheese. We took a bike ride down the shore and a hike on the bluffs. We took a lot of photos with our new camera. We took a long rainy drive around the peninsula and stopped in to do a wine tasting. We went to a fish boil. We sat in front of the fire at night while you slept in the tent.

A few weeks later, July 22-27, you and I returned to Door County with my friend Curtis and her baby Lizzie. Curtis and Lizzie flew from St. Louis and spent the night with us, and then the two women and two babies packed up the car and drove north — again. This time, we stayed in a two-bderoom, two-bath suite at the High Point Inn in Ephraim. Every day you and Lizzie watched as Curtis and I exercised, then we all took a walk, and then we all went swimming in the pool. We took drives and cooked meals and went to another fish boil — we had a wonderful time. And part of the reason the trip went so smoothly was because you slept mightily — you took a two-hour nap every day and slept 12 hours at night and the morning we left Curtis had to wake us up because you slept until 9:45 am. We don’t have photos — neither Curtis nor I remembered to bring a camera.

At breakfast in Fish Creek, before heading home

At breakfast in Fish Creek, before heading home

Another high point of this summer was the Great Taste of the Midwest, which happened on Saturday, August 8 — but which really started way back on May 3, when you and your father and I waited in line for about 4 hours for tickets to the event. The weather had been beautiful and mild all summer, but then the morning of the event it was storming and by the time the gates opened at 1:00pm, it was hot and muggy and dangerously bright out. Your father went early to get in line and we met him inside shortly after the start. Then you played under a tent while he and I took turns filling our glasses. With the heat and humidity, I was thinking it might have been a mistake to bring you — but it was the weekend, and I like us to be together on the weekends. But then we hit a stride and I relaxed and we all had fun.

In line for Great Taste tickets, 3 May 2009

In line for Great Taste tickets, 3 May 2009

It’s difficult to think that tomorrow you will be ten months old, and in another two months we’ll celebrate your first birthday. The other day at your swim lesson I realized that you’ve been taking swim lessons for almost five months, since you were five months old — swimming for five months, every week. For some reason this strikes me — I’m not sure why. This summer has seen some changes in our little family. Your father’s job has all but ended and he’s looking for a new one for the first time in almost 15 years. And I left my full-time work to revise my first novel and write another one.

And the changes with you — too many to count. You cruise now, holding onto a table with one or both hands and shuffling back and forth. And you climb the stairs rather adroitly (though you don’t know how to get down). And you aren’t yet saying words but you aer very vocal — mamamabababadadadalalalayayayaya all day long. You still play peekaboo and now you can wave hello and goodbye — sometimes you practice for no reason I can discern, on no cue that I’ve given. You make a this popping noise with your month — mwa mwa mwa mwa — and when we mimick you, you smile and keep it going until you get bored. You definitely know the word “no” and seem a little stricken, confused, and possibly rebellious when we say it. You love baths and the water — we put a little inflatable pool in the front yard and you splash away in it. You get a big kick out of throwing your little ball and crawling after it — oh, and yes, you’re crawling! You started on Father’s Day, while the family was over for lunch, on 21 June 2009. You are a great crawler. By the end of the day your knees and the tops of your feet are dirty. Sometimes you stand for a few seconds all by yourself. You fall a lot — a LOT — but you don’t always cry. When you do cry, it’s usually not for long. And then you’re up and at ‘em again.


August 2009

You’re still sleeping well — I’ll write another post on sleep and its particularities. I think your sleep is a combination of great luck and accomplishment. Your cousin Lila still takes your toys and I think you’re becoming a little more possessive — at daycare they say you’re “on the other side” of the bully issue, which I think means that others tend to take your toys more than you tend to take theirs.

Every morning when you wake up, I hear you and get up and go into your room and you are standing at the bars of your crib, smiling. Every single time. (Naps are another story entirely.)

You no longer permit being fed with a spoon — all your food is finger food, and lately your favorite food is fruit: cherries, blueberries, banana, canteloupe, watermelon. I worry you aren’t getting enough protein because I can’t feed you pureed chicken or baby food anymore.

I’ll try not to go too long between postings because this kind of generalized summary is the result.

Written by Susanna

August 10th, 2009 at 1:46 pm

Posted in Uncategorized