A Kalina Christmas

Lately, Kalina noticed that all of her toys are new. Add to that the fact that she's being dragged across the midwest and cuddled by lots of strange people who all look a little bit like her parents, and it can only mean one thing: the girl's first Christmas.

We think she likes it. She has become a pro at opening presents: she drools her happy anticipation and tears paper (with a little help) with gusto. She tastes each with utter delight, although she at times confuses the present with the paper it was wrapped in. This could've been a very cheap Christmas but none of us would stand for that.

Kalina achieved at least one milestone thanks to her new presents, so we can only assume they're worth it. She's certainly had a great time with them, as did we.

Of course, Christmas isn't only about presents, it's also about seeing family and friends. Kalina was extremely popular at every gathering she attended. In fact, some would say the party didn't begin until she arrived, especially since when she was gone it was usually because she was napping and we all had to keep quiet.

She was held by almost everyone, her intense stranger anxiety having lifted in the nick of time. Wound up like an eight-day clock (a Matt-ism), she gurgled and chortled at each of them. And eventually at specks of dust once she was overstimulated almost to the point of no return. She loved the new faces and places, almost enough to worry me. Had I been replaced? Forgotten? Only in the daytime: No such luck at night.

The result was that as soon as Kalina was happy and fun I handed her away: when I received her back she was usually nearing basket-case status.

Which was really just fine with me: it still meant a break. We all were thoroughly pampered at each of the grandparent houses and I'm planning on moving in next week.

Most of all, we enjoyed celebrating Jesus' birth. I could expound for several blogs now about the various thoughts of a still sleep-deprived new mother contemplating the birth of a perfect infant (Are the carols true? Was he really "tender and mild?"), but I will instead leave the season purely merry and bright.

Merry Christmas and a happy new year!

The baby flies!

Flying with a screaming baby is one thing if the baby is in the seat in front of you. It's another thing if the child is yours. Not only is there tremendous peer pressure to keep the baby happy (read: quiet), but there's the realization that if the baby is not, in fact, happy, you're stuck with her. For hours. In a confined space.

Flying with a screaming baby is how Matt and I expected to spend both Thursday and Friday of this past week. Why both days? It only takes a few hours to fly to the midwest! Because last year at this time we were sitting for hours on a random runway in North Dakota (not our destination or our layover) while the lavatory overflowed. Other trips have had us staying overnight in strange cities, languishing on other random runways or just turning around and going back home due to cancellations. In fact, we have issues more often than not.

So when I packed us up for our 12-day trip to visit almost every family member and relative we have, I made sure to plan for a surprise hotel stay in our layover city as well. No daughter of mine would be wearing the same outfit two days in a row! I packed several outfits for her and a change of underwear for me.

We arrived at the airport rather early, and were met with our usual fate: the airplane we'd be flying out on was one of two arrivals that morning that were delayed. What's more, we'd be racing an ice storm. Fortunately for all of us, Kalina got a nice nap in her stroller while we debated whether to give up and try to scalp our tickets.

We held up the security line, but not as badly as we'd thought we would. End to end on the conveyor belt our stuff probably took up about 15 feet of space but no one gave us the evil eye. Jolly holiday travelers before the rush, perhaps?

This is when we began to realize that ironically, fellow passengers smile on you when you travel with a cute baby. "The baby is nice now," we tried to tell them. "But we make no promises in the air." Would these same people hand us parachutes and show us the hatch later on?

We had some, but not complete, good cause to worry. Our baby gets bored easily--she likes to be walked around. What's more, she was getting over a cold, which can spell ear pain on takeoff and landing. Everything rested on the first flight. Would she weather it like the trooper we know she can be? Or would we be driving the rest of the way?

With these worries combined with the not-slim-enough possibility that our flights would ruin our Christmas plans, we didn't notice the hard airport chairs for the pins and needles we were on.

The time came to board the plane, and we waited for the call for passengers with children to budge in line: the only benefit to traveling with a baby. The call never came, so we budged anyway. No one blinked an eye and we spent the next 15-20 minutes getting settled, rookie parent travelers that we are.

The passengers around us were all immediately smitten with Kalina. There was unfortunately some confusion as far as whether she was a boy or a girl, being dressed in a warm green and yellow sleeper and not yet capped by a full head of hair. Once we assured them she was a girl, they all responded that had known she was far too pretty to be a boy and most of them continued to refer to her as "she." From then on I tried to surround her with as much pink as possible.

And then came takeoff. I waited for the screaming that would send me into a frenzy in trying to relieve her ear pain (Matt had a pacifier on standby--a very rare treat these days--and I knew just where the Tylenol and nose drops were). Instead of screams, I was confronted by smiles. Could this be my baby? The one I'd hold in my lap the rest of the trip?

In another rare stroke of luck, both flights passed extraordinarily quickly as we bounced, dangled and coo-cooed our way across the country. Kalina's favorite distraction on the journey was a slightly inflated ziploc sandwich bag and it kept her occupied for a full 20 minutes. Being on vacation, she was allowed to munch on it to her heart's content.

And so Kalina is now an expert traveler, although we're still working on the airplane nap in Mommy's arms. That will be for the return trip.

As a result of our effort, we're all enjoying a thorough pampering and dousing with snow.

Quarantine, please

The funny thing about having a baby is that all of a sudden you have to be an adult.

As a child, when you get sick you're waited on hand and foot. You stake out one of the couches for days on end and just kind of peacefully languish until you feel better. Looking back, there's nothing better.

As a childless adult, you take it easy for a few days. Everyone understands.

As the proud owner of a new baby, the only change is that life just gets harder. You get even less sleep, if that's humanly possible. You have to use one hand to hold the baby, another one to fix dinner and now a third to blow your nose.

So ever since Kalina was born, one of the things I dreaded most was when both she and I would inevitably be sick. I pictured sleepless nights rocking a screaming baby who couldn't breathe through her nose, subjecting her to every treatment the Internet could suggest, and bundling her up for a trip to the emergency room, only to decide that wasn't necessary, only to bundle her up again 30 minutes later. Only to want to go to the ER myself so maybe they'd let me sit in the waiting room and just sit. Languish peacefully. Maybe fill out a form or two.

Therefore, when Matt came down with a cold after Thanksgiving, I inherited it a week later, and the baby cried hoarsely a couple days after that, I almost checked into a hotel.

First, a word about hoarse crying: for one, it's a fact. Even babies who are still only speaking in vowels can sound hoarse. Of course, I tried for a full 12 hours to convince myself that 1.) I was imagining things, and once I couldn't deny it anymore that 2.) She was only hoarse because she had cried it out a bit the night before--kind of like how adults can get hoarse from cheering on a football team.

Unfortunately, I learned I can't just make something up and decide it's true--the baby was, in fact, sick with a cold. I was initially very impressed at her stamina in holding out a good week and a half after the germs were initially introduced.

This was soon followed by the realization that my worries about sleepless nights would only have been legitimate had I been getting decent sleep to begin with, which I'm still not (I'll spare you the details, but we're back to slogging through our nights again). It was a sad, sad, sad irony.

And then the most amazing thing happened: Kalina mellowed. Not only did she not sleep any worse than she had been sleeping, but she became easier during the day. When I put her someplace, she quietly played, or watched whatever I was doing. She might stay that way for as many as 10 minutes at a time. I busied myself around the house doing laundry and wrapping Christmas presents, thoroughly enjoying my emancipation.

What a pleasant surprise, I thought. Am I a terrible parent for enjoying my baby's misery? I should add a caveat here that Kalina didn't actually seem to be miserable: she was her usual self, just a bit more patient. Maybe her cold reminded her that she depends on me for survival and so maybe should occasionally give Mommy an easy day (still waiting for an easy night).

Once I got over my initial shock and delight, I realized that my baby does a much better job of weathering a cold than I do.

Then a brief second went by in which I considered the possibility of purposely infecting my child next time I had a large freelance project, or just a lot to get done around the house. Would that be so bad???

It may still get worse. But in the meantime, life continues pretty much as usual, except for the fact that we've added a few things to our repertoire of "maybe she's cold, maybe she's wet, maybe she's bored, maybe she's hungry, maybe she's tired, maybe she's overtired, maybe she's not tired, maybe she's gassy, maybe she's warm" to explain why she's fussy or won't sleep. We now have "maybe she's congested, maybe her throat hurts" to flip through as well. It's still anybody's guess most of the time.

Into the baby's mouth

Matt commented recently that feeding the baby is like playing that dumb game we all loved as kids: mix weird things from the refrigerator together and dare each other to take a swig. The game had many variations, but usually involved ketchup, a younger sibling/neighborhood kid and lots of laughter. Whether the laughter was mean-spirited or not depends on how willing the victim was and the techniques plotted to get the victim to drink the stuff (which could be as varied as the ingredients).

Those were the days.

But I digress. Matt was referring to the fact that Kalina's meals are rather complex and disgusting-looking, despite her young palate. First comes the main food (banana, avocado or rice cereal), which I puree. Then I separately mix formula with water, adding that concoction to the main food. And I top the whole thing off with a little prune juice for good measure. Finally, I fine-tune the meal, making sure it's the right consistency by adding more formula, rice cereal or a little water. Then the baby eats it and we all have a good laugh.

Kalina and I got Matt to taste it once, too. Does this mean I win?

Being a baby, however, Kalina puts much more than just food into her mouth. In fact, like most babies, "mouthing" an object is one of the main ways she learns. The other two ways are by simply touching an object or by grabbing it and shaking it as hard as she possibly can (bonus if she has an object for each hand to shake).

Shaking, by the way, is especially preferred by her if the object is a rattle because the forceful noise makes for an excellent way to protest anything Mommy is trying to accomplish. "Absolutely NO more naps!" she shouts with the help of her rattle. It's really quite effective--I now think twice about every action affecting the baby.

We don't know how she determines which things are shake-worthy, mouth-worthy or hand-worthy, but she seems to have a good system (she doesn't try to shake the kitchen table, for instance).

The relatively recent mouthing phase has brought with it a new philosophical question: what's okay and what's not? There are several main categories of okay-ness, including:

Category A: The safe-as-it's-going-to-get group. This includes all age-appropriate baby toys that have been carefully washed. They are likely neither germy nor sharp nor choking hazards. This is the smallest category, as well as the least desirable to Kalina.

Category B: The "looks fine to me!" group. Included in this thriving group are blunt household objects that don't appear to be dirty and aren't obviously choking hazards. They must be things we don't mind her wrecking, if it comes to that.

Category C: The "it's okay as long as I monitor her at all times" group. Plastic bags, magazines, cats and the Christmas tree belong here. Either they could hurt the baby or she could hurt them, but it's fine because I'm there to supervise. This is the most popular category with Kalina.

Category D: The off-limits group. Matt would have this category be a lot larger than it is. And truthfully, nothing about me likes the idea of mouthing as a way to learn (personally, I learn better by reading or hearing). So I take my cues from my mom friends--if they let their babies stick it in their mouths, I will, too. If not, it belongs in this category. Hopefully this pattern of peer pressure won't continue or Kalina may be jumping off a lot of cliffs as she grows up (whichever ones her friends choose to, anyway).

Because of the number and variety of objects that make their way into Kalina's mouth as she learns about them, we have more evidence that she will be a super-genius when she grows up. Then again, would a super-genius really eat mashed avocado mixed with prune juice?

Toys for the baby or baby for the toys?

The other day, Matt and I were Christmas shopping on ebay. Yes, we were.

And we couldn't help typing in search terms like "Playmobil" and "Legos." After Matt found a Lego swat team and I found a set of Playmobil hedgehogs, we both pledged our little girl would have it all. Every last bit. And soon.

Almost, anyway. If any of you would've come up to us at that moment and said "Kalina wants toy hedgehogs this year" the scale would've been tipped and she'd be getting an entire Playmobil farm, followed by a cottage and a zoo, for the next five years of her life. Then, in the sixth year, she'd be old enough to play with it.

What about all our old toys stored in our parents' basements? She will have those, too. As many as we can get.

Of course, we're actually trying to convince each other she'd play with these toys much sooner. Our plan would be to remove all of the choking hazards and let her bang around the precious few remaining pieces to her heart's content. "Look, she likes it!" we'd happily exclaim to each other. "We didn't need our second car, anyway!"

Which brings us to the point that the funnest part about a baby is at times her accessories.

This, by the way, is why on some days Kalina is dressed more cutely than others. It's more fun when she resembles a cupcake.

In essence, we have a new hobby: entertaining the baby and in so doing, entertaining ourselves. By any means necessary. At any price necessary. Because she's much easier when she's amused.

We hope Kalina doesn't end up spoiled, but we think there's hardly any way she won't. Before she was born, we decided she would entertain herself with anything she finds in the yard, and the occasional stuffed animal.

After all, we did, we tell each other. Besides, she needs to learn creativity, and she won't if all of her toys are already made for her with predetermined uses. We certainly don't want a dull baby on our hands--she will learn to make her own fun and in so doing, will become even more of a super-genius than she already is. This will set her up for life.

Now that she's here, we've determined she'll only play with carefully molded plastic made in China. And lots of it.

We finally firmly told ourselves that Kalina should only receive age-appropriate toys this Christmas. Except one toy we both think looks just amazing that's recommended for 1+. She'll be fine, and we know she'll love it. After all, she's rather advanced for her age. And the toy is really cool.

Incidentally, all Kalina really wants for Christmas is to be carried around the house and allowed to touch perfectly ordinary objects like doorknobs and drawer pulls.

Sorry, Baby, we're too busy over here on ebay.

A weekend for the baby book: a bountiful post

What a weekend! Kalina is beat. A lot happened in her cute little life. (Of course, she's not quite tired enough to have slept at all well last night.)

Kalina kicked off the weekend on Wednesday night by celebrating her first Thanksgiving meal. Or rather, by enduring it. This little pilgrim was not happy with the fact that Mommy and Daddy had invited a couple of Indians over, nor with the fact that Mommy and Daddy had to carve turkey and make gravy rather than cater to her every whim. An early bedtime was the result while Mommy's meal--two days in the making--sat warming in the oven.

So we tried again the next day, with another Thanksgiving meal at the neighbors' house. What she liked: new surroundings, different toys, and babies to watch. What she didn't like: the Indians in that house. That's right, stranger anxiety is in full swing. Fortunately, she didn't have to persevere through another meal: she napped like an easy baby in her Pack and Play upstairs.

We concluded that Kalina doesn't make a very good pilgrim. She did, however, have a few things she's thankful for, including her new Bumper Jumper that we set up this weekend (and we wish we'd introduced 4 1/2 months ago). It allows her to stand like a big girl and turn around in a full circle so she can see everything that's going on. She loves it (standing is her favorite activity) but has yet to actually use it for any kind of jumping or bouncing as she's never actually cared that much about movement. She's also thankful for Daddy, who's more fun than Mommy and Mommy, who's more of a pushover than Daddy.

Appropriately, we started Kalina on solid food over Thanksgiving weekend. All the books and websites I read, all completely credible, told me that Kalina really doesn't need solid food until at least 6 months, unless she's ready earlier, and even then she might not, unless she's ready. And still she doesn't really need solids. But she might be ready to start them anytime after 4 months. Or not.

Now do you understand why this whole baby thing can be frustrating?

I decided that she's ready because:
1. She eats 9-10 times a day (most babies this age eat an easy 5-8)
2. She meets or exceeds pretty much all of the milestones listed in all of the trusted resources
3. She might be dropping the early evening nap and feeding her will keep her entertained for a good 20 minutes during that time, since by then Mommy has usually run out of ways to entertain the baby. Will this encourage bad habits? Only time will tell.

So the baby is now eating rice cereal mixed with formula once a day. It's strange stuff--very liquidy and gross smelling. I didn't try any, which probably makes me a bad mom. However, I didn't have any problems implying that I was feeding her gourmet food prepared specially by a French chef. I've heard that's a good idea if you want the baby to like the stuff, as apparently attitude is everything.

Fortunately, Matt was around to help us get started. Kalina resisted the high chair (she hates being restrained) and the bib (she hates having clothes put on), but Matt, being the fun parent, kept her relatively happy while I prepared the meal. He then began eating a bowl of cereal of his own because Kalina loves to watch us eat and we thought it might help.

I was warned by lots of sources that during the first couple of feedings Kalina would probably end up with more food on the outside than the inside. Always proving herself to be a bit different than most babies (at least in her adoring, yet ever-frustrated parents' opinions), Kalina in fact astounded us with how well she did. Has she been helping herself to midnight snacks all this time without us knowing?

Feeding the baby was highly entertaining at least for me. And judging by how well Kalina did, I'm guessing she was probably ready. Or at least ready-ish. Maybe she's getting ready to be ready?

Kalina also got her first Christmas tree! We chose a small one this year in honor of Kalina, who's still small herself. She likes to grab the branches in a death grip and not let go, which makes us wonder if she's capable of pulling the tree over.

Her reaction was fun. "Guys, in my albeit limited experience, trees belong outside. A houseplant may be more appropriate. However the thing looks kind of neat so I guess it can stay." She especially liked playing with the bead garland. A benefit of a small tree is that we have a strand of them left over she can play with all season.

And finally, as mentioned before, we think Kalina is done taking a third nap of the day. According to all our sources, she may or may not be ready to drop the nap. The sources, all of which are highly scientific and respected, also tell us that she needs either 12-14 hours of sleep a 24-hour day, or 14-15 and that either she may need 1-2 feedings per night up to 9 months, or that she could've been done with night feedings for the past month or more.

I'm sure you can tell by now that me and the experts are locked firmly in a love-hate relationship.

We think she's done with the third nap because she screams her head off when we put her down for it, and if she falls asleep before we rescue her, only sleeps for 30 minutes before waking up screaming. She's also been waking up at 5:25 every morning of this wonderful long weekend (which most of the books say is earlier than she should need to get up) and has had some trouble falling asleep for her other naps and bedtime.

However, we're still trying to determine for sure. According to the experts, she's either:
a. overtired from not getting enough sleep (she only gets about 13 hours)
b. annoyed we're trying to force so much unneeded sleep on her (she gets a healthy 13 hours)
c. it's just a phase
If a., we should put her down earlier for every nap and bedtime.
If b., we should skip the third nap entirely and put her down later for her other naps and bedtime.
If c., we do nothing, which is probably the most frustrating of all, so I'll rule it out
If we choose one of these and are wrong, the result will be a cranky baby that's hard to put to sleep. If we choose one and are right, the result should be a happy, well-rested baby that's a joy to be around.

Matt headed off to lab this morning where everything is straightforward and predictable. I'm staying home with our little experiment to try to make sense of anything I possibly can.

Pacifier? What's a pacifier? or Sleep Training Nights 2 & 3

On Saturday afternoon, Matt was with Kalina when she caught a glimpse of her nighttime pacifier on a shelf. She started cooing really excitedly. "Look, Dad!" she gurgled. "It's my pacifier! I found it! Now we can quit this silliness of making me fall asleep without it, right? What a relief!"

Poor baby! We told her that in exchange for her pacifier she'd be learning valuable lifetime lessons about how to fall asleep on her own that would contribute not only to her health and happiness, but to her brain's ability to learn. So when she discovers a cure for cancer 30-some years down the road that sets her up for life, maybe then she can have her pacifier back. Should we press it in the baby book for her?

Saturday night was fairly similar to Friday night, except the early hours were a little more interrupted than we all would've liked. 3:30 and on have always been difficult for Kalina.

Last night, however, not a single tear was shed! The only incident was that she woke up around 1:20, presumably wanting to be fed. Matt and I had stupidly decided last night that we may or may not wait to feed her depending on when she woke, and Matt would potentially comfort her in the meantime. Seeing Matt stirring beside me and not wanting to make the decisions on my own, I asked him what we should do. "Let's wait until one hundred," he said. "One hundred? That's not a time." "I'm half asleep. Feed her at 4:30." I was thinking 2:00 would be much more reasonable, but fortunately Kalina saved me the trouble of communicating this to my sleep-drugged husband by falling back asleep. Matt did, by the way, remember the conversation this morning.

But the big news from last night is that we're pretty sure we're officially and finally down to 1 feeding! As an added treat, Kalina slept in until 6:45!

For some reason, instead of feeling delighted I was a bit sad. I over-analyzed the reason for her lack of crying and rather pessimistically decided it was because she didn't think we cared anymore. I still can't shake that feeling, but I'm also satisfied that we're averaging only 3-4 wakeups per night (down from about 80-85). I just hope the baby has the good sense to cry loudly if there's a cat on her face or something.*

At this morning's nap, poor Kalina experienced her first-ever insomnia. It took her 30 minutes to fall asleep. The time was punctuated with short bouts of crying, and I could relate: which of us hasn't felt like screaming sometimes when we're tired but can't sleep? I would've offered her a book and a flashlight, but reasoned that she probably wouldn't like the taste. Instead I took a shower, glad that even if Kalina cried continually, I could easily finish the shower in the 7 minutes I had before I was supposed to check on her.

Although we're still hoping to get down to just 1 wakeup per night, we're considering sleep training a success so far. This chapter is officially closed unless there's anything further to report. Rumor has it I might even stop complaining about lack of sleep every time anyone asks me how the baby is doing. I bet you're as excited as I am!

*As a side note, once we consider sleep training "done," we'll be sure not to wait long before checking on the baby, just in case.

Air raid sirens in my head, or Sleep Training: Night 1

Moms are programmed so that when the baby cries, it sounds to them as if World War III is upon us. We know in our minds that, in fact, World War III is not actually happening (at least as a result of our baby crying), but we can't help looking over our shoulders for atomic bombs when our babies burst into tears. That is why we may seem a bit uptight when the baby is fussy.

I'm sure you can understand, then, that I haven't been keen on cry-it-out methods of sleep training. Kalina has been so young, so helpless. Could I really let her sob for hours on end, alone in the darkness?

The answer became a resounding yes when my exhaustion tolerance was reached after Thursday night--a night that began with insomnia (since I'd gotten a good 2 1/2-hour stretch the night before) and ended with me getting up every 15 minutes until Matt took pity on me around 6:00 a.m. No more, I said. Nobody is sleeping well, least of all the poor baby.

It finally seemed better to find a way in which we could all get a little more rest. It's in Kalina's best interest, after all. How is her mind supposed to grow and develop if she's not sleeping? How can she even function (these questions I asked of myself as well)? And she'll be fine.

So last night we kicked off the real sleep training. None of this no-cry stuff, which neither of us ended up having the patience for and didn't seem to be working anyway. We decided that the pacifier was a major stumbling block for her, and also that she was eating too often (as many as 4 times in one night recently). Through a process so complicated we needed to write it down on a clipboard and quiz each other on, we decided to take away the pacifier cold turkey, get her stabilized at 2 feedings and eventually get her down to 1 feeding and then later an amazing 0. We decided on the Ferber method, which allows frantic parents to check on the frantic baby every so often.

I was miserable the entire day yesterday. I tried to prepare Kalina for what I knew was ahead by getting her used to sleeping without the pacifier as best I could. After I tucked my sweet baby in for her last scream-free nap around 4:30, I went downstairs and quietly freaked out. Could a baby really cry 11 hours straight? I wondered. I doubted it would work at all.

Matt gave me a pep talk, as did many websites I found through my good friend Google. I ignored, of course, the guilt-laden ones that said I was cruel and insensitive and that it's silly to try to sleep train this early because they're going through so much it won't do any good. I read how to quickly and quietly clean up any vomit present without doing much to disturb the baby.

I baked brownies, because I knew they might come in handy.

And finally the time came. The screams came. Matt did the first check, and then turned off the monitor and headed upstairs. I was to stay downstairs and try not to listen. But who doesn't hear air-raid sirens?

Then the crying stopped. What? Seven minutes into it? Does the baby know that if she'd just screamed 1 more minute she would've earned another visit from one of us? Matt turned up the monitor and we both listened to her breathe.

We promised each other it'd be worse in the middle of the night--after all, we're not going to get through this without a little hazing--and eventually headed off to bed ourselves.

Sure enough, the 11:45 wakeup came along. Instead of rushing to the nursery (and back to bed, and back to the nursery, etc.) as usual to spend my next 45 minutes or so getting the baby back to sleep, I stayed warm and cozy, albeit on edge, because you never know about those atomic bombs. Eight minutes later, peace once again filled the house.

After eating at a generous 1:45, Kalina slept comfortably through until 5:37--her second feeding that the night before had been her fourth instead. She was then up for the day at her usual 6:15 and she even smiled all morning, as if we hadn't been perfectly willing to let her cry the entire night. Please remind me to delete this blog before she's a teenager.

The naps so far have gone just as well if not better.

Is the elusive good night of sleep, which I haven't seen since April, finally in sight? I'll keep you posted.

Coming to a bookstore near you

Matt and I are proud to announce that Kalina's first bestseller will be hitting the shelves sometime next week. We couldn't be happier. Her book has been the product of several weeks' intense struggle and we're thrilled to see this difficult, yet exciting, period coming to an end.

At least that's what must be happening, right?

In all my Google searches the past few weeks, one of the most valuable things I've learned is that while babies are working on some sort of keen new development, their sleeping and eating habits go berserk. There's a method to the madness and certainly a madness to the method.

So Matt and I can only conclude, based on the fact that my days and nights with Kalina have been rather berserk indeed that Kalina must be either winning the Nobel prize (which we ruled out due to the timing) or writing some masterwork of fiction. We're looking forward to reading it.

After all, the only other thing the baby has seemed to be working on lately is blowing raspberries, and if all this madness is simply for a silly mouth noise I'm going to throw in the towel. She can't even do it right yet.

In case you haven't noticed, we're also increasingly confident that our child is a super-genius. We were hoping for a calm, cool B student (having been awkward A students ourselves) but instead we'll probably be sending her off to Harvard when she's 12. Poor girl.

We have our reasons. For one, she can't be bothered by simple baby toys. As if to let us know she's already advanced far beyond them, she often stares off into space no matter what cool things we surround her with. We're sure she's busy contemplating the quantum mechanics of her exersaucer or something.

She also already knows all her vowels, and has invented her own language out of them, although the words are mostly variations on "I'm bored again" "I'm hungry," "But I don't want to sleep" and "Hold me."

And then there are all her night wakings. She must be squirming in her swaddle because she can't quite reach a pen to write down her latest big idea for how to solve the global food crisis.

She's a busy baby indeed.

And while Kalina's slept decent stretches at night twice in the past week, signifying that this turmoil inside our sweet little girl's mind might be drawing to a peaceful, if temporary, close, we know we're not out of the woods yet. After all, there will be publicity tours and book signings to keep her schedule busy through the holidays.

Not my responsibility anymore?

Today in church, we dedicated Kalina to God.

Whew, I thought in the middle of last night's gauntlet of wakings and feedings. I'll be glad to finally get some help.

Unfortunately, as God is not a woman, the help will likely be of a less concrete kind, and more of a "support" role, but I still greatly value it.

We chose God (in a Christian sense), as opposed to the various gods in existence, because we believe in Him as the only true one. Not only that, but we believe our faith in Jesus is vital. So although some would have us, instead, adopt a more open-minded approach, we think that would be akin to leaving poor Kalina in the middle of New York City alone and without so much as a guidebook, let alone a nice taxi driver to give her a lift. She's in good hands with this particular Taxi Driver because we already know he's the most loving and merciful one there is (these both come in handy during endless diaper changes, as well as other potentially messier situations in the future). Of course, the whole purpose of a dedication is to express our intent--it has nothing to do with what Kalina will choose, and she'll have to make her own decision someday. Choose wisely, Baby!

We admit that there were several secondary reasons to dedicating Kalina. For one, there's a page in her baby book entitled Spiritual Celebrations. Now we'll be able to fill it out and add a picture. What's more, my upbringing insisted that Kalina be dressed with the utmost cuteness for such an event, so I got to head to Target and buy her a new dress for the occasion.

I was happy, but not surprised, to see that Kalina was the cutest child being dedicated at today's service.

Poor Matt, being a responsible dad, volunteered to be the one to say the little speech about our intentions. We all won when the cute little girl next to Kalina started grabbing at her, making 1.) the audience laugh so no one heard Matt's speech (he was thrilled) 2.) Kalina less bored and squirmy in my arms 3.) me happy because my baby then ended up being one of the memorable ones (yes, I'm quite the proud mommy).

Afterward, it was off to the Cry Room for me and Kalina. It's not that she was crying--she was just antsy and occasionally vocal--but the Cry Room accepts all kinds. It's fast become one of my favorite places to take her.

Basically, it's a small (sometimes too small) soundproof box where parents can listen to the sermon despite their children's best efforts to the contrary. But that's not all that goes on in the cry room. It's a veritable marketplace of conversation, advice and all-too-common comparisons, including the silent "my baby is cuter than any other in this room (we all think it, right?)" and "why is the 5-month-old next to us sitting quietly on his mother's lap while my 4 1/2-year-old insists on doing the hokey pokey?"

Of course, before any chatting can go on, you have to determine whether the mother next to you approves of talking during the sermon. After a series of sneaky sidelong peeks, eye contact is made and the two never-fail standard starter questions are whispered: "How old is your baby and what's her name?" Then you're free to talk. Or not talk, if you'd still rather listen to the sermon.

I like the room because it's a place other than my living room to entertain the baby and as an added bonus, I get to listen to the sermon or meet other moms. Kalina kind of likes the room. As long as there aren't too many people and they aren't too scary, she enjoys watching the activity. But one baby too many and she gets a little shy.

I realized that instead of shifting the responsibility to God in a "she's yours now!" sense, today's dedication instead puts a greater responsibility on Matt and I. Should we have waited until we're all sleeping better at night? However, as the whole congregation publicly and vocally agreed to help out, we're glad to see that we have a much larger babysitting pool than we did a day ago. Maybe God's help will be concrete after all.

(By the way, we really are taking this very seriously. We don't mean to offend in any way by our candor!)

And special thanks to Uncle Tom for the videography!

The bright side

Fortunately, it's in my nature, once I get done freaking out, to look on the bright side. So despite the fact that I see every hour on the clock throughout the night, I can no longer follow recipes, I get winded walking up the stairs, and playing with brightly colored objects that rattle is now just about the perfect activity to challenge my mind, I'm going to look on the bright side of sleep deprivation.

Mainly, the fact that the reason I'm not sleeping is likely because Kalina is traveling through a rather massive developmental spurt.

Really, she's pretty amazing nowadays. And the cool thing about being a sometimes-work-at-home-but-mostly-stay-at-home mom is that I see all of it. This makes my conversation somewhat boring to most normal people as I gush about how Kalina rolled not once, but twice, complete with play-by-play ("And then I came back into the room, and she was on her back!!! Can you believe it?!?"). They smile politely and try to change the subject. Pet owners, fortunately, can relate somewhat. "Really? Rover rolls, too!" "How did you train him to roll over on command?" "This neat whistle, want me to show you?" "Where can I get a whistle?"

A couple weeks ago Kalina started to stand with help. Now, it's fun to see that her joy and pride over this accomplishment have turned into nonchalance. "Um, I've been standing for weeks now, just like you guys. A little credit, please. I can do way cooler things than this," her glazed-over eyes seem to say as she munches on her hand.

She also almost sits without help, for as many as 5-10 seconds at a time. She does so well during those 5-10 seconds that I kind of start to forget that she can't actually sit yet. Then she starts to slowly tip over, and I have to rush to catch her. It's startling for both of us, but I think she likes sitting overall because it gives her better access to her toys.

Speaking of toys, Kalina munches them with a vengeance (see video). It's actually a little unsettling how she likes to tear into things nowadays (and she doesn't stop at toys--Mommy's hair and Daddy's nose have both been targets). Let's just say I wouldn't want to meet her alone in a dark alley. She's very serious about her play--she seems to be the frustrated artist type about it. If her mouth grip isn't perfect, she gets angsty but tries again with determination. I imagine she'll be the type to color in the lines, and make sure the other kids do, too.

And then there's the laughing. I think it's worth losing at least an hour of sleep a night for, although I'm still deciding just how much sleep I'd trade for her laughter. Before Kalina started laughing, I used to think she was this really selective critic--sometimes it was beyond my repertoire and budget to get her to crack a smile. Now I know she's not, seeing as she got the biggest kick out of Matt doing a one-person wave (think baseball stadium) the other night. I'm relieved to know that I won't have to develop complex comedy routines or hire professionals just to entertain my child, as I previously worried.

Did I mention she rolled twice in a row? I put her on her tummy and left the room briefly. And then I came back into the room and Kalina was on her back!!! Can you believe it?!? The reason this is so exciting is that she's hated tummy time for so much of her life that I'm thrilled to see the end is approaching (as much for me as for her). I don't think she understands these implications, though, as she seems to be in no hurry to roll again.

As for me, I've found a few personal bright sides as well. For one, while I'm doing chores or cooking dinner, I occasionally look up and ask myself why in the world I'm so tired. Then it hits me: I don't sleep anymore. So I quickly put an end to whatever I'm doing and hightail it to the couch, no guilt involved. The other bright side is that if I do ever sleep as many as 2 hours in a row, I feel like Rip Van Winkle.

So I'm almost at peace with the fact that neither of us is getting any sleep. Although now I wonder what she'd be able to do if she were sleeping. Today, the exersaucer, tomorrow, the world, I suppose. Maybe next month?

On the importance of a good breakfast cereal

I've discovered recently that Fruity Cheerios is about $1 cheaper at my local Target than at my local grocery store. This is important because other than Kalina's cries, Fruity Cheerios are the only thing that get me up some mornings. I like the fact that they're whole-grain and healthy-ish, yet pleasing to the eye and palate with a delicious array of flavors and colors.

That's right, this is the long-awaited "I'm not getting any sleep" post.

I've tried to avoid writing this post as long as possible. I think it's in poor taste to complain publicly about not getting any sleep when you have a new baby. At the same time, I'd planned by now to be able to write a triumphant "the baby slept through the night!" post, and since that's about as far off as Kalina's retirement party, this is my consolation.

At the risk of sounding grumpy, I won't bore you with the details--I'll just say that Kalina used to sleep much better and now, in addition to two meals, she's decided on an "I just want to see Mommy" awakening that often happens just as I'm first drifting off to sleep for the night. Add in a few "oops, my pacifier fell out and now I need it again, please" wakings and the fact that I sleep through nothing and you'll see why I haven't posted in a week.

The real purpose of this post is not to complain about lack of sleep, but to kick off Kalina's official sleep training boot camp.

Don't worry--we're sending her to a rather posh one that doesn't allow cry-it-out methods. In fact, we're hoping she never has to cry it out, seeing as none of us would enjoy that very much.

In asking Google what the general consensus is on 4-month-old sleep, I found answers ranging from "4-month-olds sleep terribly and there's nothing you can do" to the ever-so-helpful "my 4-month-old has been sleeping through the night for weeks."

Therefore, I ended up consulting a book that now seems like the worst of both worlds: you can help your baby sleep longer, and potentially through the night, but it's going to take a lot of effort and in the meantime you'll all get less sleep.

We just started. You're supposed to wait 10 days before evaluating your progress. Ten days, by the way, is eternity (see my "Pregnancy timeline" post). And although we're only a couple nights into it, we're already slacking, questioning our intentions and rethinking goals and methods. We're wondering if maybe it wouldn't just be easier to go with the flow. Is this a prelude to our future parenting skills? (Or lack thereof?) We attribute the slacking to the fact that our baby is "different." She is--have I mentioned we can already tell she's a genius? So she certainly won't respond to ordinary sleep-training methods. Right?

Of course, there's always the chance that she'll develop the ability to sleep longer at night on her own. Please.

If there's anything interesting that comes out of this, you can be sure I'll keep you posted.

Meanwhile, I should say that Kalina is actually an excellent napper. Maybe too good: could it be she's simply napping through the night? Only time will tell. Thank goodness for Fruity Cheerios.

Flowers aren't scary

Odegaard baby is flower for Halloween

The mood in the Odegaard household was light and festive last night as 4-month-old Kalina Odegaard, resident baby, celebrated her first Halloween.

"I was really excited about Halloween this year," said Mary Odegaard, a.k.a. Mommy. "After all, who wouldn't want to bring their cute baby around to friends' and neighbors' houses to collect both compliments and candy? It was a no-brainer for us."

Kalina mentioned she'd decided to be a flower about two months before on a shopping trip with Aunt Nancy.

"Flowers signify a fresh beginning, graceful beauty and in this particular costume's case, soft cuteness," Kalina said. "What's more, my name means flower. Really, it was the only logical choice this Halloween."

And those weren't the only reasons Kalina liked her flower costume. "Now that I'm using my hands more and more, I like to hold the petals, and kind of try to eat them," she added.

However, being a flower wasn't just a matter of making the decision: a costume had to be found. When the big-box retail store didn't have Kalina's size, Baby and Mommy were admittedly quite worried.

"Freaked, really, is what they were. The house was in a frenzy for at least a few hours, but I can see why--the costume is pretty cute," commented Matt Odegaard, a.k.a. Daddy.

Fortunately for all concerned, Kalina's paternal grandmother got word of the situation and shipped the costume in the correct size to the household.

"I was so relieved, you can't imagine! It's a dream come true," raved Kalina. "Thank you, Grandma!"

The baby girl donned the flower costume in the early evening hours of Halloween.

"I wanted to wear it all day, but Mommy wouldn't let me," Kalina complained.

"I wanted her to wear it all day, as well, but the large petals would've gotten in the way of pretty much everything we do on a daily basis," responded the girl's Mommy.

Instead, they waited until Daddy got home from work. After taking pictures, life went on as normal until trick-or-treating began.

Kalina was happy to find that most of the people who saw her understood the deep symbolism of her costume.

"I heard words such as 'cute' and 'flower.' I think they got it!" Kalina exclaimed.

Although the Odegaard family actually only brought home two pieces of candy in the end, they received no trick-or-treaters themselves and will therefore be snacking on the candy they bought for the neighborhood kiddies.

Camera shy

When Kalina smiles, rainbows appear randomly throughout the house, the cats behave and I magically lose another pregnancy ounce or two. Plus, she's just plain cute. We try, therefore, to encourage this behavior.

While she's all too happy to oblige for antics such as funny noises and songs from Mommy and Daddy doing pushups, the one time she's guaranteed not to smile is, unfortunately, when we're trying to take her picture. (See photo)

Of course, we have to try. On the weekends when Matt's around during the best-mood part of the day, we sometimes make several attempts, one of us waving frantically at the baby, making every funny face imaginable, and the other manning the camera, which she eyes as if it's a life form from another planet (and a hideous one at that). She looks at virtually nothing else this same way.

Does she just not like having her picture taken? Does she think she looks fat on film? (She doesn't as we've tried to tell her.) Maybe she's not happy with her hairstyle, or what she's wearing. Perhaps she's one of those people whose religious beliefs restrict them from having images made of them (don't worry, we'll work on converting her to a more photo-friendly belief system).

Of course, each attempt begins with a happy, smiling baby ("Look, she's smiling a ton, let's get a picture!") and ends with an annoyed, bored little girl who's ready to move on to a new activity ("I've seen the freaky alien creature you all seem to like so much, show me something new now please").

And you should see the lengths we will go to to capture Kalina's smiles on film. We'll sing, dance, tickle her and break out painfully wide smiles ourselves to get her to crack a grin. However, I think we could march a circus through the living room and she wouldn't take her eyes off the camera--and very seriously, worriedly give it a good look-over.

It's the same way for the video camera, by the way, which can also completely stop Kalina in her tracks as she's doing something amazingly cute.

The only exception is my friend Anna, who somehow manages to get Kalina to smile and take a picture at the same time, which truly takes talent.

But for the most part, you'll have to take our word for it that Kalina flashes her smile all the time nowadays, and is cuter than we ever thought possible. We think she's starting to laugh--yesterday she seemed to at the baby in the mirror. Apparently, she thinks that baby's smile is as cute as we do. Too bad she can never get a picture.

Pediatrician visit!

Today was Kalina's 4-month checkup at the pediatrician's office. It was also her second round of vaccinations, which I've been dreading since her last appointment. This time, I had to field the shots alone, seeing as asking Matt to come with me would have classified me as a baby myself, and there's only enough energy for one baby in the house right now. He did, however, advise me not to watch.

I wanted to give Kalina a fighting chance at getting through the shots as well as could be expected, so I made sure her napping, eating and awake time schedule lined up as closely as possible to her appointment. I also gave her some Tylenol beforehand, taking a good 10 minutes with the eyedropper to measure the right dose (Matt can get it right on the first try, thanks to his science background).

The poor girl was in a particularly good mood as we headed out the door. She was clueless, and I milked it for all it was worth, coaxing smiles and coos for the selfish reason of making me feel better about what I was going to put her through. She even played with her carseat toy all the way to the office. She must get her "trooper" disposition from Matt, because it's certainly not mine. As we waited for the doctor, her undressed to her diaper and me trying to contain her in a small blanket, we explored the room and said hello to the baby in the mirror. Smiles all around.

The first task at the office was the weigh-in. Once again, I'd guessed almost a pound too high (I think because I'm responsible for every feeding I get overly optimistic), as she weighed a nice 12 lbs. 6 ounces.

The doctor commented what a beautiful baby Kalina is (we love hearing this, because we know it's true) and complimented her rosy, pink cheeks. She took the rest of Kalina's measurements as well, telling us that her weight and head circumference are in the 25th percentile while her height (about 25 1/4 inches) is in the 75th. We have a tall, thin baby. The doctor was very happy with Kalina's growth--the baby started in the 3rd or 4th percentile for weight and has been in the 25th the past two visits. Good baby!

She then did the overall examination, and we learned one potential reason why Kalina doesn't seem to like tummy time: her arms tend to flay out and don't support her well. The solution? Bring her arms in, and tuck them close in front of her. We tried it at home, and found that it cut back on the tears considerably. Why could no one have told me this 4 months ago? I'm glad to know it now.

The doctor noted that Kalina had a bit of stranger anxiety. I was relieved to hear that it's normal around 4 months, and that it was okay if it takes her a while to warm up to people--that I don't have to force it. Not liking anything that makes my shy little baby cry or fuss and happy for the excuse, I resolved, if only for the moment, to keep her firmly in my arms at all times when we're around other people. (Is it just a month or two ago we were thinking she's an extrovert?)

And then the really interesting news: I told the doctor that for the past week or so, Kalina's been waking up a lot more often to eat--last night, for instance, a tiring 9:00, 11:00, 2:30, 5:30 and 7:00--and eating a lot more often during the day as well. The doctor recommended starting Kalina on solid foods (if you can call rice cereal, which has the consistency of a melted milkshake, solid) and promised it'd help her sleep better at night. I grabbed the advice with both hands and haven't let go, although I've since heard and seen that that could just be a myth. Matt and I have since agreed to wait a week and see (so far, though, he hasn't agreed to handle the night feedings that week).

And Kalina is the very picture of health! That only left...the vaccinations. Kalina cried for the oral one again, and screamed, as anyone would, for the pokes. I watched her face, not the doctor, and was glad that it was over soon.

I'd like to thank Tylenol for the fact that she soon calmed down, and didn't wake up screaming in pain later like last time.

Upon arriving at home, we both found ourselves overwhelmingly exhausted (I wondered if somehow I'd gotten some of her vaccine). Kalina headed to bed and I called Matt to tell him about the appointment. As I was unable to form complete sentences due to my extreme fatigue, he sent me straight to bed and told me not to drive. I couldn't sleep, of course, but enjoyed laying down.

I was happy to find that Kalina was her usual happy, smiley self once she awoke from the nap. I'd been expecting her to sleep the rest of the day, as she did last time, but was just glad to have my baby back.

We made it!

Kalina vs. the experts

Ever since Kalina's been born, we've been reading "How to raise a baby" books, all of them chock full of advice. We like to laugh at them together. Here are some of our reactions:

"Sleep when your baby sleeps."
Kalina: Hope my grunting doesn't keep you up.
Me: Seven 15-minute naps per day don't add up to any decent amount of sleep.

"In the first two weeks, your baby should eat at least every 2-3 hours. If your baby falls asleep, you can wake her by gently tickling her or touching her with a cold washcloth."
Kalina: I want to eat every 3 1/2 hours.
Me: The baby will only eat every 3 1/2 hours. We sprung eight rambunctious monkeys, a fire hose and a marching band on her and she remains unmoved and asleep.

"After the first two weeks, continue to feed your baby every 2-3 hours during the day."
Kalina: I changed my mind. Now I want to eat twice an hour.
Me: The baby will not stop eating. Is this payback for the rambunctious monkeys?

"Between the third and fourth months, your baby will lengthen the time between feedings."
Kalina: Yes, but I still reserve the right to eat absurdly often.
Me: The baby is now eating every hour and a half to two hours. Finally, some relief!

"Burp your baby at least once in the middle of a feeding."
Kalina: Interrupt a feeding? Don't even think about it. I'll burp when I want to.
Me: The baby is a really good burper.

"If your baby spits up a lot after feedings, keep her upright for at least 30 minutes."
Kalina: I'll find a way.
Me: Can I buy stock in Stain Stick?

"Between the third and fourth months, your baby will begin a sleep schedule, with 2-3 naps a day."
Kalina: I want five short naps. I will complain about each and every one, but I will complain more if I don't get them. Any deviations must be approved by me in advance.
Me: She's a good sleeper, but we can't leave the house.

"To calm your baby when she's crying, try putting her in her swing. The motion will calm her down"
Kalina: If you do, I'll just scream louder. I'll always make you regret putting me down when I'm unhappy.
Me: The baby sometimes seems to cry all day long.

"Babies are fascinated by their hands, as well as colorful objects."
Kalina: Only as a last resort.
Me: The baby is hard to entertain. Could that be because all of her toys look like they came from a pet store?

"To help your baby relax and get ready to sleep, use a bedtime routine, for instance, bath, change into pajamas, book, bed."
Kalina: Frankly, I don't think anything could prepare me for bedtime.
Me: I'm the only person on the planet who can get Kalina to fall asleep, even if she's not at all hungry. How could a bath help the situation?

"Make sure you give your baby plenty of tummy time every day. Don't do tummy time soon after meals, and if your baby fusses, turn her over so she doesn't learn to dislike tummy time."
Kalina: I've always hated tummy time.
Me: Based on the above requirements, there are only about 3 minutes a day that Kalina might possibly be content to do tummy time and not spit up. But we give it our best shot and promise to do better the next day.

And our personal favorite:
"Around this time, your baby will sleep longer and longer stretches at night. She may even start to sleep through the night!"
Kalina: No.
Me: Do we have a newborn? She wakes every 1 1/2 to 4 hours between 7:30 pm and 7:00 am. If this isn't a growth spurt, I'm going to cry.

You're all invited to a public book burning.

Kalina's newest tricks

We've been busy at the Odegaard household. Kalina is hopping her way from milestone to milestone, and her parents are trying to keep up. Here's the rundown:

1. Toenails. Until recently, Kalina's worn down her toenails as fast as they've grown. We don't know why, although we do know it's not because she sits on a rough-surfaced perch like a bird. She would never sit still that long.

2. Standing. A little less than a week ago I pulled Kalina into a standing position and she didn't cry--therefore, I added it to the all-too-short list of activities I can do with Kalina that she won't loudly protest. Personally, I think she likes the fact that when she stands on our laps, she's as tall as we are. She's continued to let us pull her up like this and has never cried, so we'll keep doing it and call it a milestone.

3. Rolling. She rolled over on her own a few weeks ago. It must've been an accident: she looked very startled afterward and she seems to have decided that the whole experience was too scary to repeat. However, she's turning to her side, usually to stare at a ceiling fan or bad cat, and with a little nudge we can get her to flip right over. (She still looks a bit concerned about the ordeal.)

4. Hands to mouth. Kalina will happily gnaw on both hands nowadays, and will even bring a blanket, burp cloth, parent's finger or the occasional toy to her mouth for a good tasting. And can you believe we encourage her? Definitely newbie parents here.

5. Batting. Rather grumpily, Kalina will deign to bat at the toys hanging from her activity gym, but only if no one thinks she likes it. She requires a pacifier for this activity.

6. Not screaming. For the vast majority of her lifespan, Kalina has screamed during every change of clothes and after every bath. Now, we're about 50/50, and we're thrilled about this progress.

7. Recognizing/detesting bedtime. All the baby instruction manuals tell us to set up a bedtime routine so that Baby will know when it's time to go to sleep. We're going to go ahead and ignore this advice, seeing as Kalina can smell bedtime the way dogs can smell fear, and loudly lets us know she's not on board with the idea.

8. Sitting. With a bit of help, she'll sit fairly well. I try to remind her that eventually her choices will be to sit, lay on her back or lay on her tummy, and then she seems to try a little harder.

In case you haven't noticed, we'll accept any little thing as progress and I'm more than happy to celebrate any of them with ice cream. Just say the word.

Photo: Taken today, one of the only times Kalina has not complained about tummy time. Note the look of grim fortitude she wears.

Road tripping with Baby

My choices were:
1. Camp in the depths of the Amazon with raw meat strapped to my body
2. Redecorate Martha Stewart's house for her
3. Take a road trip with a 3 1/2-month-old
4. Stay home and dust

I chose #3, mostly because I knew I had a good friend, Sara, waiting at the end of the 250-mile journey.

On Friday, I loaded up my station wagon (with Matt's help), bundled Kalina into her carseat and raced my little one's patience to South Carolina. Matt looked concerned as I was pulling out of the driveway. Did he know what I had in store?

I was proud for having bought a mirror to attach to the backseat so I could see Kalina and she could coo back and forth to the baby inside it during the trip. It promptly fell off as I pulled out of the driveway, so I can only assume Kalina drifted off to sleep for the next hour and a half.

The temptation to speed when you have a sleeping, yet volatile, infant in your backseat is astounding. Every mile you check off while Baby is in dreamland is one more you won't have to drive while listening to the sounds of backseat screaming. To cancel out the negative effects of speeding on safety, I'm hoping for a Baby on Board sign for Christmas.

Our first stop took a full hour. Kalina was thrilled to be out of the car, and comforted to see that the gas station/restaurant we stopped at had a ceiling fan she could make friends with. While I ate lunch, she sat on my lap and contentedly chatted with it, a little sad when it was time to leave. In fact, I mentally planned to have one installed above her carseat when we got home. I re-adjusted the mirror, which then fell off again by the time I'd merged back onto the interstate.

One trick I've learned when driving around with Kalina is that it helps to have a pacifier (or 10) in my purse, so that if hers falls out I can put a new one in without digging around in the carseat for the old one (all while driving, of course). In theory, she could literally end up covered with pacifiers in the course of a trip this big. Thanks to this tactic, she once again fell asleep.

Only temporarily. This is when things got tough for both of us, the problem being that in her heart of hearts, Kalina really just wants to be held 100% of the time. Her tolerance for not being held decreases as the day wears on.

So when she awoke and started to cry, as Matt warned me she would at some point, I had to choose: press on with an angry baby or stop for half an hour trying to trick her into being okay with her carseat again. Always an optimist, I stopped.

Kalina's nobody's fool, however. Soon after we pulled back onto the interstate (mirror, once again, having slid off), she realized something wasn't going the way she'd planned, and said so (I use "said" loosely here). We kept going. She let me win this time and settled in for another nap.

One more meltdown later (Kalina's), we arrived. Whew. Good thing I'll never have to do that again. Oh, wait...

Fortunately, Kalina was a pro at the whole carseat business on the way home and the trip was too uneventful to write about, except for the fact that it being uneventful is something to shout to the world. The mirror, by the way, was a pro as well and I spent probably far too much of the drive happily watching Kalina sleep.

Photo: Kalina and I enjoying mini donuts at the South Carolina State Fair (as you can see, she politely declined)

Puffins and ducks and trees...oh my.

Who would take a 3-month-old to the zoo? That's ridiculous. The baby won't even care while the parents focus every minute on trying to find an acceptable place to change their clean little child's diaper. Weirdos.

Okay, so we admit--it was more for us than for Kalina. But we had several good reasons for going, one of which was the beautiful fall day.

The zoo is an hour and a half away--which is three times as far as Kalina has ever traveled in her life. We began by overpacking and overthinking the entire trip. My goal, for instance, was to have every combination of weather-appropriate clothing, as well as a change of all of the clothing because we were planning to use disposable diapers (which seem less reliable than our bulletproof cloth ones). I also narrowed us down to 2 diaper bags, 2 changing pads, 12 diapers, 2 extra outfits, 2 blankets, 3 pacifiers, 3 toys, 2 front baby carriers and asundry other items. We used 1 changing pad, 4-5 diapers, 1 blanket, 1 front baby carrier and 2 pacifiers.

We overslept, but then "hurried" out the door. Meaning we left at about 9:30. Kalina pretended to be asleep the entire car ride so we wouldn't sing silly songs to her the whole way.

Matt commented that the zoo seemed to be not so much a place to see animals, but more of a place to wheel a stroller. He was right. The zoo even rented strollers for those who didn't have them. I think there were more stroller seats than children, and we even saw rather large children riding in them (rednecks).

We had a good time, but it felt like we were on something of a scavenger hunt, simply checking items off a list. "There's the lion!" "Oh cool, let's go get Kalina out of the sun." "There's a monkey!" "Great! She's waking up and needs a diaper change." "Did you see the grizzly bear?" "No, but that's okay, I've seen them before." And so forth.

Kalina seemed to enjoy herself, or at least tolerate the trip, but we don't know if she saw more than 1 or 2 animals the entire time. "Look at the elephant, Sweetie!" "What's an elephant?" And she'd gaze at yet another tree.

There were two exceptions: puffins and ordinary ducks. In the puffin room, the lights were dim, but the tank was lit. This made it so Kalina knew where to look (like a moth, she always looks toward the light when given a choice). There were two puffins swimming around right in front, so chances are at least one of them caught her eye. We think the puffins were her favorite.

We think she also managed to watch some ducks at a small pond. We were standing over them on a bridge, and I held her so she could see over the raling. Sure enough, she stared right at the ducks! She kept staring, then, as they swam past--at the water where they'd been. Oh well.

Tragedy struck as Matt and I were enjoying irresistable, yet vile, hotdogs at a picnic table (Matt said they were the type of food you only had to have once or twice a year to get enough of them--which means they were greasily delicious). Kalina's favorite pacifier fell in the dirt. Trusting nothing except heavy-duty cleaning at home to remedy that nastiness, we resorted to backups. The first was too big--the poor girl couldn't get a good grip. The second was acceptable, albeit clearly second-rate. We wonder if the ride home would've gone better with Old Faithful.

On the ride home we had a few tears. Kalina let us know it'd been a big day and she didn't appreciate having to ride home in the backseat all alone, facing back no less. A month ago we would've had to spend the night along the highway in order to get her to stop crying. Yesterday, however, she fussed a little and actually calmed down, although we could tell by the resolute "I'm suffering but I'm a big girl now so I won't complain" look in her eyes that she wasn't happy about the whole business.

I've never been so exhausted, by the way. I was a stress bucket the whole day. Has she had enough "Mommy" time? (She's really attached.) Is she getting hungry? Does she need a new diaper? Has she been in the sun too much? Is she tired? And repeat. However, each successful trip will only add to my confidence. Who knows? Maybe next time I'll only pack one extra outfit.

1st picture: Mommy, Kalina, Lion 1, Lion 2
2nd picture: Kalina, Mommy Not pictured: Elephants

Not crying, yet strangely not silent...

That's right, Kalina talks! Here's a video of her greatest hits.

Things that go "waah" in the night

Whenever Matt's out of town overnight, my imagination runs amok. Somewhere out there, I believe, there's a weirdo with an ax who's out to get me. It only takes one. Every night he's gone becomes a relatively sleepless one, as I plot strategy for either thwarting intruders or escaping them every time one of the cats so much as yawns a little too loudly. I even asked Matt to buy me a rope ladder once.

Now that I have a mini-me, I know I was crazy. Instead of an ax murderer, there's a kidnapper with his or her sights set on the cutest baby in the world: mine. I'm even suspicious of strangers who take too much of an interest in Kalina. Why do you need to know if she's sleeping through the night?

Seeing as Matt was out of town last night, I braced myself for a busy night as I simultaneously tackled would-be marauders and fed and changed a baby who was coming off one of her fussiest evenings ever.

Kalina finally dozed off around a quarter to 8:00. Exhausted already, I headed downstairs for some snacks and TV for an hour before my brand-new bedtime. I noticed it was dark: a bad sign. Marauders like the dark. I flipped on the front porch light--an ounce of prevention is worth a pound of cure.

Finally bedtime arrived, and, as I predicted, I was wide-eyed in the dark for quite some time. I wisely used the time to plan my strategy. I knew that:

1.) Would-be kidnappers would have no intention of harming Kalina, since she's so cute. They would simply want to silently secure her and sneak out of the house and into the night without being detected
2.) My baby monitor would be some help, as chances are Kalina wouldn't go quietly
3.) Our stairs squeak loudly whenever Kalina's sleeping (I haven't noticed whether they do when she's not sleeping), and the stairs are the only practical route to and from Kalina's nursery
4.) My cell phone was right beside my bed, and police are out en force on Friday nights in Durham

I decided that I had the advantage in that I wake up whenever Kalina blinks. Seeing as I'm about as tough as a marshmallow Peep, my challenge would be to remain calm and silent while I, in fact, actually let the weirdos kidnap my baby. My second challenge would be to follow them, not letting them get out of sight, while calling 911.

I also wondered how they'd react if I simply opened the door and growled a Momma Bear growl at them.

(I'm not kidding, by the way.)

Somehow, I fell asleep. At 2:00 I was awakened by Kalina's grunts and pre-cries. Kudos, Child, I thought. Six hours is a respectable amount of time to sleep. With no thoughts of simply replacing the pacifier and hoping that would work, I fed her. So far so good.

And then came the diaper change. The key, by the way, for nighttime feedings and diaper changes is to keep things as low-key and quiet as possible. Wake up yourself and the baby as little as possible, and you might actually both get back to sleep relatively easily. Two trips downstairs to try to dig up an extra pacifier and adjust the thermostat, and two bright-eyed lamplit "episodes" later, I was dripping sweat, frustrated out of my mind and ready to feed her again. The pressure is astounding at that time of night.

Then I looked at the clock. Why is it 12:24? Why isn't it 2:24? Dang. I knew I was in for another night feeding, and probably an early-morning one as well. Our baby slept better as a 3-week-old. Fortunately, Kalina went back to dreamland easily enough.

Which is more than I can say for me. Wide awake, I worried simultaneously whether Kalina were too warm or too cold, and wondered when the marauders would arrive. I also calculated, as I can't help but doing, that so far I'd gotten probably a little less than 2 hours of sleep. I finally drifted off again.

At 3:30 I awoke to general fussiness. Was Kalina finally being kidnapped? She wasn't. I then lay awake until 4:00, when she fussed again, this time definitely hungry. I calculated an additional hour and a half of sleep, bringing the total to 3 1/2.

The next time I woke up it was a glorious 7:45. And, thankfully, Kalina was fussing happily and hungrily in her crib. Somehow, we'd both survived the night, and chances are we'd make it through the day (day being lighter than night). Thanks to my constant vigilance, she got 11 hours of peaceful sleep, oblivious to the dangers around her. I managed 5 1/2 of not-even-close-to-peaceful sleep, but at least I never had to pull a Momma Bear on anyone.

Kalina hits the big screen

We knew she was talented, but we seriously underestimated her abilities. It appears that Kalina is well on her way to becoming a movie star. Take a look at her very first film, and just try to tell us she doesn't have fame and fortune in her future.

Special thanks to Grandpa Hanks for providing the video camera and figuring out how to post the videos for all to see. Special thanks to Daddy, too, for charging the camera and reading the instructions before the trip to the hospital. Good thinking! I'm sure Kalina with $thank$ you both even more once she's made her first million.

Look for more of Kalina's blockbusters in coming posts.

The surprising history of the baby monitor

The earliest record of the use of a baby monitor comes from ancient Babylonia. On a stone tablet found in a room of a house that had cute carvings of lambs and bunnies on the walls, reference was made to a "Baby Hearer" in a list that also included "Baby Excrement Collector" and "Baby Wrap-Me-To-Keep-Me-Warm Cloth." However, homes weren't very big back then, so some archaeologists, surprised at the need for a baby monitor, have concluded that a "baby hearer" could instead be a device for listening to a baby's internal organs, just for fun. About a dozen grad students are currently researching the topic so we can all know for sure.

The next reference to a baby monitor isn't until years later, in ancient Rome. A wall mural found in a large home shows a woman listening to a box with an antenna, while another box with an antenna sits at the other end of the mural next to a crying baby. The woman, however, is laughing and eating grapes with friends, looking well rested, so there's some doubt as to the validity of this baby monitor, too.

During the dark ages, no one could afford baby monitors, or babies, for that matter. Monks, however, perfected the design and added the video feature that is still in use at times today.

In the age of chivalry, baby monitors were once again put into play, but only in the richest and most noble households. It was widely accepted, however, that they weren't so much used for listening to babies as they were for spying on family members who may be plotting a coup. "Kitchy, kitchy coo, I'm going to murder your daddy so I can claim the throne, kitchy coo!" and so forth.

It wasn't until the enlightenment that anyone thought of using baby monitors as torture devices. Babies' cries were transmitted into dungeons where the most dangerous murderers and Protestants were kept. The next day, their bodies would be dragged out into the street as a warning.

In the Victorian era, all babies had rosy pink cheeks and never stopped smiling. Baby monitors were not needed because they never cried.

During wartime, baby monitors were collected by the government to be used to pick up enemy radio transmissions, since sometimes they do better at that than picking up sounds in the baby's room, anyway.

The 1950s, the golden age of households, was another a low point for baby monitors. Perfect housewives were much more able than they are now, and could cook a large Thanksgiving-style dinner, vacuum the whole house, attend a charity lunch, scrub the kitchen floor and toss in a load of laundry all while putting the baby down for a nap in the back bedroom. However, they were advertised as "The nanny of the future" and many people owned them simply so they could brag to their neighbors about them.

During the "empowerment" era of the 1980s, baby monitors were used, but usually ignored, much like ancient Rome. Phrases such as "just let the baby cry it out" were in vogue. If Baby cried, Mommy would just rush out and buy herself a cute new pair of shoes to help her feel better.

In modern times, baby monitors pair with the wisdom of the day (respond immediately to Baby's cry until she's 4 months old, and then respond promptly) to make life as difficult as possible for the new mom. Never before in history have moms been able to hear every peep their baby makes, and at the same time be fair game for public shunning if they dawdle on their way to the baby's crib.

The latest developments in baby monitors include "Husband Headphones," which are earbuds connected to the monitor that can be placed in Daddy's ears while he sleeps so Mommy can take a break, and heavy-duty models, which can survive hammer blows and being held under water for 10 minutes. In some households, cats are being trained as first responders, with limited success.

Please help

Hi everyone,

This is Kalina writing. Please don't tell Mom I'm writing on her blog, but I need to ask you a favor. The thing is, I think she's planning to change my clothes again tomorrow, or even today, and I simply won't stand for it anymore.

I've already lodged an official complaint with the Better Baby Bureau against her, but I haven't heard back. I told them that I've never heard of anything as absurd as needing to change clothes at least once a day, and besides, I like what I'm wearing. It's pink and it has a squirrel on it.

I try my best to fight her on this, every single time. I have my ways. After all, she can't very easily get a new onesie over my shoulders with my arms raised, now can she? And there's no way I'm going to let her get my hands through the sleeves--the closer I hold them in, the harder time she has.

And of course, I always pull out the secret weapon: shrieking loudly. I'm trying to convince her that I equate changing my clothes with peeling my skin off.

It's been a lot of work, but I know my efforts have paid off. Mom wouldn't dare change my clothes now unless they're well-soiled. I even test her limits sometimes, spitting up all over myself just to see if she has it in her to face another scream session. It can go either way: sometimes she gets that ultra-resolved look in her eye that I know means she's put in imaginary earplugs and has bought something new for me that she desperately wants to see me wear. Other times she pretends it's not too bad and we go play.

And this brings me to what you can do. I need you to help convince Mom of any of the following things:

1.) Spitup is the latest accessory fad: wearing it makes you cool

2.) Changing a baby's clothes has been scientifically proven to cause acne, ADHD and, in extreme cases, kidney failure

3.) I'm always clean and sweet-smelling, and that my current outfit is the cutest one you've seen in your whole life, ever--it should never be removed

Thanks in advance. Working together, we can ensure I never have to face a onesie change again.

-Kalina

Oops. Uh-oh.

The other day, we brought Kalina to a dinner party with family. Big mistake. She absolutely loved it--she spent several hours, mostly awake, I think, just watching. She loved the faces, the talking, the bustle. She even added some of her own babble to the conversation. And the next day, instead of being respectably tired and withdrawn, she cooed and smiled like a pro as she soaked in every face she could possibly see.

In short, we think we have an extrovert on our hands. We don't know how it happened. It doesn't make any sense. And we have no idea what to do about it.

Both being staunch introverts ourselves (Matt more so than I), this is the last thing we expected. Can we nip it in the bud? Or will she, poor girl, spend her whole life craving interaction and trying to convert introverts? "Come on, it'll be fun!" she'll say to all the homebodies she knows, lurching them out of their quietly contented lives. We shudder.

And that's not all. Most babies this age are happy to stare at brightly colored toys, batting at them like kittens, or at least to suck on their hands a while. Not Kalina. She prefers faces and human interaction. To add insult to injury, after 10 1/2 long weeks of staring at her mommy, she's now thoroughly bored with me. Perfect strangers now get the heart-melting grins that once belonged solely to me.

She also loves to talk, having picked up an African tribal language that's comprised mainly of squeals and clicks. As she practices her enunciation with Matt and I, she encourages us to learn it, too, screaming when we get it wrong.

Fine, Child, I decided a couple days ago. If you want to be social, we'll go out. I'll just ignore those screams as I put you in the carseat. Hah! Take that!

I ended up carrying her most of the way through the stores, and then buying her a new toy. I sure showed her!

So how are we going to deal with an extrovert? As we're usually too boring for them, we don't know quite what to do with one.

We're hoping the cats will help. After all, can Kalina really know yet whether she's human or feline? We don't speak tribal African, and neither do the cats, so we can't tell her. She's about the size of a cat, often sitting at about their level, and she also sometimes sounds like one.
And fortunately, judging by the conversation she had with the ceiling fan this morning, she's not too picky about who she talks to.

Matt and are hoping we can at least be as exciting as the ceiling fan in the years to come. Wish us luck.