Teeth and other developments

Back in November, a woman at a consignment store, seeing Kalina sucking on her lower lip, informed me that Kalina was teething. Over Christmas, the internet let me know the same thing, judging by the random redness of her cheeks. At a playdate in January, Kalina's excessive drool was a dead giveaway, as was her fever in February. Essentially, people have been telling me for more than half of Kalina's life that she's teething.

So imagine my surprise on Monday morning when gumming turned into gnawing as I felt a kitten-sized tooth sprouting up from Kalina's gum. Matt was able to (ouch!) verify it later in the day, and it's official: Kalina almost has a tooth.

And what a tooth! At just a millimeter or so past her gums, Tooth has made it so we're lucky to get our knuckles out of her mouth still attached (yes, we occasionally use our fingers as teethers). We're beginning to wonder if all her teeth will be canines, but we couldn't be prouder.

This all means one thing: she's teething. Yikes?

I've pictured Kalina timing the introduction of teeth to correspond with the tail end of successive bouts of sleep training, so that we'd be crying it out in the middle of the night until next Christmas.

Alternatively, I've refused to believe Kalina would ever grow teeth--she certainly doesn't need them to eat with or make her cuter. And I have to admit that I'll miss her sweet, gummy smile.

However, I'm thrilled to report that Kalina's tooth-in-progress has hardly made her crankier or more wakeful (during the night, at least--naps are another matter) than she had been before. I'd insert a smart remark here about the various reasons we may not notice teething-specific fussiness, but she's really been quite nice lately so I won't.

We feel like we've won the lottery, but we also feel like we're owed an easy bout of teething after Kalina's first 6 months of angsty boredom and months 3.5-8 of mostly rotten sleep.

Meanwhile, Kalina continues to crawl reluctantly, as crawling is contrary to the core truth of her philosophy of transportation, which states that walking is the only acceptable mode. She knows how to "cruise" along couches and tables, but chooses not to for the same reason--walking should be in a forward motion, never side-to-side. Side-to-side walking is for crabs, not princesses.

Kalina will admit openly that she had trouble reconciling her need to transport herself with the fact that she can only do so using her knees (for now), but has worked it out by using one knee and one foot as she crawls. In this gimpy way, she is able to get around fairly well, gladly sacrificing speed and ease of movement to keep in step with her philosophy. Pun intended.

The house is Kalina's playgym as she pulls/pushes up on anything an inch or higher off the ground (or attempts to), then proudly smiles around and waits for applause when she makes it. And then topples over. And then cries. And then does it all again 30 seconds later, so that Mommy can't so much as fix herself a bowl of cereal without rushing to the baby's rescue several times.

She can stand no-handed for a while, especially if she's distracted. (How long is "a while?" I wonder all the time. Long enough for me to pour milk on my cereal and/or eat a bowl? Or just barely long enough for me to dash over and catch her by the armpits as she loses her balance?) She can even sit down on her own sometimes. She gleefully chases the cats at every opportunity, pulling us behind her with our hands clamped in her no-nonsense grip.

Babyproofing is something we now discuss daily in our attempt to protect Kalina's pretty head and brilliant brain, as is buying the girl a helmet.

Also cute: she loves carrying small objects with her wherever she goes and turning the pages of books. It should be noted that board books are the only ones strong enough to survive even one page-turn.

Video: A not-too-exciting, but still cute sequence of Kalina playing nicely with Mommy and Daddy a couple weeks ago before the urge to pull up really hit. Those were the days!

Photo: I sewed Kalina a dress and made her a cloth ball to match. She's chewing on a measuring tape, which doubles as a teether. As does everything nowadays.

Stay-at-home mommying

It happens to so many of us. Educated, connected, well-traveled women who seemingly have success and well-being written all over their futures begin to show the little baby bump. Which leads to a bigger baby bump, which leads to a baby, which in turn gives birth to a desperate, harried person who barely knows who's president, has looked sloppy for the past 236 days straight and accidentally left her wallet in the other diaper bag today.

That's right, we become stay-at-home moms.

To clarify and recover a portion of my dignity, I'd like to point out that I'm actually a work-at-home mom, which makes me a cross between Superwoman and Pigpen. But that's for another post.

[To further clarify and enable stay-at-home moms everywhere to hold up their heads proudly I'll say that those with good nappers, Grandma in town or magical powers won't be able to identify with this post as much as those without.]

What fun! I get to play with a cute baby all day! Let's discuss.

The main problem with being a stay-at-home mommy is that along with the designation comes the inevitable responsibilities of housework.

Because since we're trained experts in baby caretaking and child psychology, we must also be masters of cleaning and pros at cooking. All on a dime, because we're enjoying the luxury of staying home with the baby which makes money tight.

My goal on a daily basis is to complete a chore and keep the baby alive. Sometimes it works. On these days, Matt returns to a clean-ish house, with the promise of dinner, and is not handed a baby immediately when he walks in the door. I let him talk about his day before I regale him with all the absolutely riveting details of mine.

Sometimes it doesn't. On these days, I usually find myself spending the day thwarting the baby's gleeful, unknowing attempts to harm herself or the cats. Then Matt returns to a house filled with the hallmarks of a really good "try:" a broom sitting out in the middle of the living room or soggy laundry, and a happy, energetic baby who's self-satisfied in the fact that she's secured Mommy's complete attention for an entire day.

Many days, I do everything one-handed and with the baby on my hip grabbing at anything and everything within reach. By the end of these days, I've actually been rendered incapable of doing anything without the baby attached to my hip, so that when Matt tries to take the baby while I'm cooking dinner, I first growl at him like a she-wolf and then wander aimlessly for a few minutes as I recalibrate my center of gravity.

Do not challenge me to an arm-wrestling match, by the way, because you'll lose.

The baby virtually never leaves my side. I'm always within screaming distance. Whenever Matt takes pity on me on the weekends and shoos me out of the house for a while, I don't know what to do--more often than not I take the opportunity to linger over potatoes and grocery shop alone for once. I could call a friend, but they all have babies--what a drag! And then I might as well bring along my own baby and call it a playdate.

As you can imagine, much weekday relief comes from meeting other stay-at-home moms. They add interest to my day, provide an excuse to get out and give me coupons they won't be able to use. More importantly, they can sympathize on the really tough days.

We all ask each other what we did "before." We miss our coworkers and the fact that we actually knew what we were doing and were respected as such. We miss meetings because we could just sit. Sit, and stare off into space. And just sit. In a comfy chair. And occasionally be asked for our opinion--whether on the market's outlook or a new skirt. And sip tea and munch on bagels, and use the bathroom whenever we need to.

We miss the fact that we could go to nice restaurants and be treated well instead of getting escorted/shoved into a corner with our babies and hurried out the door with food still in our mouths. We wish we had any reason to dress up more than for two hours on Sunday morning, and when we decide "oh, what the heck? I'll wear my nice clothes to the playdate--it'll be fun!" we get far too gushed over by women in sweatpants and then spit up on by our children.

But I digress. *sigh*

Stay-at-home mommying is one of the hardest and most important jobs in the world, or so everyone tells me. It's like being the president, or a queen, in that there's no such thing as a weekend, holiday or sick day and we're constantly managing crises. But no one hands us a paycheck and we're certainly never asked to make a speech--what would we have to say?

Maybe that's where all our education and successful work experience comes in: it's what enables us to endlessly make sense of things that don't make sense (the baby's gravitational pull toward glassware) and appreciate Goodnight Moon on a deeper level.

I've found it tough to reach a balance between baby playtime and mommy worktime (we skip over mommy playtime entirely). The baby is happy and likely smarter if I play with her in a developmentally appropriate way for the entire day. But that's mind-numbing, and I kind of feel like I'm too young to be handing over my IQ points so freely.

So what else do you do when you have a baby who's barely fun to travel with and can't yet talk well enough to carry a conversation? And your husband is slaving at work all day? You clean the house and make dinner. The baby learns the value of hard work and you wish you would've worked harder "before" so you could hire a maid.

The highlight of our day is often our errands. Mommy gets to sit in the car and listen to peaceful classical music on the radio while Baby is somehow happy in her carseat (as long as we don't drive more than 12 minutes). I let Kalina play with almost anything in the store and once in a great while she lets me try on a pair of jeans. And people smile at us and complement me on my cute little boy if she's wearing anything that's not pink.

Because sometimes being a stay-at-home mom is like being a baby day camp counselor, we also make time for recreation. Most stay-at-home moms can rattle off every restaurant within a 12-minute drive that has a play area, the peak and quiet hours of the mall's play area and at least 3 small parks. But the true staple of a stay-at-home mom's recreation is the walk. Walks help us lose the calories from all the bonbons we sit around eating, and also gives ourselves and our babies a change of scenery. We're all pretty sure they need it as much as we do.

Most stay-at-home moms wish that, just once, our husbands could stay home with the baby for a day while we headed out the door to work so that they could see what we do all day and why lots of our bank account goes toward ice cream. But it wouldn't work. A day or two, or even a week, of staying home with the baby is great fun--it's the knowledge and mundane reality that most of the time the world is only as big as your house that turns our previously highly regarded brains into Jello pudding snacks.

Lest you get the wrong idea, I could wax poetic about all the wonderful things there are about staying home with the baby--there are lots. But it's been done already by Hallmark, Chicken Soup for the Mom's Soul and sometimes me.

Instead, I'll leave you with this video (one of many cute ones I should be sending your way):

A stupid little obsession

One of the benefits of cloth diapering is that we can let Kalina run around with only the absorbent cotton diaper part, not the waterproof barrier, so her little bum can air out a bit.

Some would argue that this is not, in fact, a benefit but is instead a liability.

You thought we were crazy for having a baby in the first place, and now we want her to soil entire loads of laundry so we can wash it in our own washer, fold it with our own hands and then repeat the process? Several times a week?

Well, we'd consider it the lesser of two evils. Really, we'd like her to potty train tomorrow. And say please and thank-you. And drive us to the movie theater so we can watch a full-length feature in fewer than 3 sittings.

The problem is, cloth diapers are extremely cute (see photo) and I have all the signs of being officially addicted: I try to convert all my friends to cloth diapering, I miss my cloth diapers when I travel and I ask for them for Christmas. I secretly visit cloth-diapering websites regularly even though we have plenty so I can check out the new fabrics. I even take pictures of Kalina in just her cute little diapers so that I can remember them forever (see photo).

This is spurred on by the fact that the cloth diapers of today, much like electronics and pets, are not content to exist simply in a utilitarian fashion. After all, who would buy a diaper for such mundane details as how leakproof or absorbent it is? Not today's shoppers. And not me.

Kalina and I require cute patterns, colors and styles (Daddy, by the way, does not). Using various absorbancy, stay-dry and waterproof layers, we like to customize each individual diaper to our plans for the next few hours. Sometimes we try to coordinate with her outfit, sometimes we get a little crazy and leave off the waterproof layer to get the aforementioned air on her little bum. It's a veritable party on the changing table many times a day.

I'm not alone, by the way. I've found entire message boards devoted to the topic of cloth diapers heavily populated by people both crazier and more vocal than I. They (and now I) toss around phrases such as "lanolizing" and "stash." The acronyms, by the way, would wow even the most obnoxious CEO.

The questions bouncing around the message boards are even stranger than the people at times. "Can you wash wool in the bathtub?", "Where's the cheapest place to buy Loopy-Doos and Fuzzi Bums?" and my favorite, "How can I get my child's poop to solidify a bit so it's easier to dump?" (The answer is less fruit).

We use words like "invest" to console each other for the fact that the cutest diapers can rapidly end up costing more than diposables, much to our husbands' dismay. We remind each other every chance we get that it's better for the environment.

And then there's the whole "trimness" challenge. Cloth diaperers continually battle against bulk. We get ourselves into it (because no matter what anyone convinces themselves, nothing is as trim as a "sposie," as we like to call them), and so we try rather convincingly to get ourselves out of it by experimenting with different brands and combinations and complementing one another liberally. I've been known to take pictures of particularly trim diapers I've achieved (see photo), others have been known to throw parades.

It's not that we look down on those who use disposables. It's that we think they're missing out on all the fun. Don't you agree?

So why all the hooplah about such a mundane subject?

Two reasons. 1. Cloth diapering can be as simple or as complex as you want to make it 2. Pretend you change a diaper 8 times a day, every day for 2-3 years. Wouldn't it help if at least the diapers were cute? Absolutely it does.

Not that Kalina has to make a fashion statement with every diaper she wears. But can she at least make the statement "I like purple flowers?" You bet. (See photo)

How to tell a boy baby from a girl baby

This has been a problem lately, so I'm writing a tutorial. Please forward it to anyone you know who frequents grocery stores, restaurants or walking trails.

We've all been there--we're out and about minding our own business when we see a baby! It's so cute, we just have to comment! But we begin the sentence in such a way that we're immediately committed to deciding whether the baby is a boy or a girl in order to choose the right pronoun. What to do?! Guess? Wrong. There are ways to know for sure! Here's a helpful checklist for what to look for so that next time, you get it right!

1. Is the baby wearing a dress? If so, it's a girl.
2. Look for pink. If you see ANY pink on ANY article of clothing or accessory, the baby is a girl. The pink may appear in a pattern, so please look carefully--it's almost always there.
3. In the absence of pink, look for purple. If you see ANY purple that can't be confused with royal blue, the baby is a girl.
4. In the absence of pink or purple, look for pale yellow. Contrary to popular belief, most parents will not dress a baby boy in pale yellow in public more than once, as it's a virtual guarantee that Junior will be referred to as "sweet little girl" (if this is the baby's first time out of the house, this rule does not apply as the parents have likely not experienced this yet; also does not apply to pajamas).
5. In the absence of any of these colors, look for a hair accessory that is not a hat. If you see ANY hair accessory that is not a hat, the baby is a girl.
6. If there are no telltale girly colors or hair accessories, look for other visual cues. The following are girly: butterflies, flowers, ladybugs, birds (pterodactyls do not count as birds), cats/kittens, rodents (except beavers) and any cute foods such as cupcakes and cherries. The following are boyish: any sports item, any dinosaur, most jungle animals, bugs (except butterflies and ladybugs), the vast majority of dogs/puppies and any machinery (including cars and spaceships).
7. You can also look for the following phrases often printed on onesies and bibs: princess (girl), cutie (girl), sweet (girl), dude (boy), monster (boy).
8. Boys almost never wear polka dots.
9. Girls almost never wear sweater vests or plaid flannel shirts.
10. The following are NOT reliable in telling a boy from a girl: hair length (whether longish or shortish), denim, the color blue, the color green, a girly diaper bag (as the mom's accessory, this can be girly even if the baby is a boy) and certain animals (bears, whales, turtles, giraffes, hippos and snails, among others).

When in doubt, do not refer to the baby as either a boy or a girl. Use the following word instead: baby. If you must, try child, little one, sweetheart, honey pie, cutie, or punkin.

To avoid embarrassment entirely, stick to the following phrases when commenting on a baby:
1. What a little sweetie! How old?
2. Your baby is just precious!
3. Why is your child chewing on my purse?

If you make a mistake, there's not much you can do to redeem yourself. Choose from the following responses, as appropriate:
1. I should've known! He/She's far too pretty to be a boy/handsome to be a girl! (flattery)
2. I'm so sorry! Let me buy him/her a toy! (bribery--this works best if you plan to have a continuing relationship with the offended parent)
3. He/She's so precious! How are you all sleeping at night? (change the subject)

And finally, don't feel too bad if you guess wrong. Mommy's friends have undoubtedly warned her this would happen and generally feels a sense of goodwill toward anyone taking an interest in her child. In fact, if you guess correctly, be prepared to be solicited for free babysitting (true experts will guess wrong on purpose).

In conclusion, you now have all the tools you need to comment on the next cute baby you see! Go forth and seek cute babies!

Photo: When did my child's thighs get so pinchable? She's modeling her cute cloth diaper and standing one-handed!

Blip

Kalina's life has so far been punctuated by blips. Blip! I'm a good napper. Blip! Now I'm not taking naps without a fight. Blip! I must be standing at all times. Blip! I enjoy my wrists. You get the idea.

Each blip lasts a week or two, except the poor-sleeping ones, which usually last at least a month. Kind of like a bbbllliiiippp. And all the blips overlap in weird ways--so she might be terribly afraid of her changing table for two weeks, 1 of which she's desperate to roll over on it and the other of which she can be calmed by being allowed to gnaw on a rubber snake toy throughout the diaper change. During that time period, she may be just finishing a must-shake-every-plastic-bag-in-the-house blip, but on the front end of trying to eat the cats.

Sometimes Kalina's blips combine to produce a miraculously mellow, nap-filled, happy-eating week for Baby and a peaceful, productive and happy-eating week for Mommy. Other times, they bring with them dark days of Mommy despair as poor napping combines with an unshakable urge to roll, without the propensity to roll back or sleep on her tummy, so that little or no sleeping gets done during the day. (Last week was the former, this week is the later--I knew I'd pay for week 1 sometime.)

Sometimes the blips repeat themselves. We look forward to sleeping-through-the-night blip, for instance, but are dreading a recurrence of must-be-walking-every-waking-minute-but-I-can't-quite-walk-by-myself blip that makes Mommy's back hurt so very badly.

Essentially, then, every week with Kalina is like a game of poker. Will you be dealt the ace of spades in addition to a smattering of painfully useless cards? Or will you have a royal flush? Or worse, will you fold before you get the royal flush?

Each good week my thought process is as follows:
1. The baby is easy. This is good. 2. The baby is still easy! 3. The baby seems to have the mental maturity of a calm 30-year-old! Finally! I'm positive this will last. 4. Since I now have an easy baby, I'm going to plan all kinds of activities for next week so we don't get bored!

Each bad week, which usually follows each good week, my thought process is as follows:
1. My life seems to be much more difficult lately. 2. Oh, that's because the baby has developed quite the opinion and isn't sleeping, either. 3. This stinks, but I will outlast it--this must be short-lived because it's soooo rotten. 4. Who planned all this stuff?!?

Either way, Kalina's blips are always an adventure: will terrible nighttime sleep pair with long naps, giving me both a reason and excuse to languish on the couch during these naps? Will picky eating match up with a cute new sound she's working on so I don't mind the fact that she'll only eat Cheerios and cat hair?

Only time will tell. Meanwhile, Mommy will be happily traveling through her own blips, which include everything from "chocolate keeps me sane" (that's definitely a bbbllliiiiipppp) to "we're going grocery shopping every day this week because I'm tired of all her toys and so is she."

P.S. Kalina stood today all by herself for about 8 seconds! Blip!

Photo: 2 months ago in MN. A little untimely but oh, so cute.