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.