Little Miss Person

They say you can determine many of the blunter points of a person's personality within their first year. (Not to be confused with their first month, which would have all of us growing up to be needy and manipulative.)

Perhaps that's why, a year or so into this whole baby thing, I've ceased to think of Kalina as an infant, or even a pet, and have begun, instead, to accept her as a small adult with whom I spend the vast majority of my waking hours (and still occasionally some of my non-waking ones).

And call it Stockholm Syndrome, call it desperation, but I've grown to rather like Kalina's companionship. She is her own person.

For one, Kalina almost never mimics me (or anyone else), but securely does her own thing. In fact, I think I've only managed to successfully teach her four things in her lifetime: how to clap, how to sign "all done," how to brush her hair and that wearing a hair bow is cool. She would probably insist I taught her how to walk as well, but only out of pitying kindness. As you would imagine, she is not one for being ordered around, either. Life is on Kalina's terms, but always in either a tragic or exuberant way--not, at this point, defiantly.

This sentiment, however, is balanced by her no-holds-barred dependence on Mommy and, increasingly, Daddy.

Which is then balanced by her non-committal friendliness toward others ("I'll smile happily at you and lean on your knee, but don't you dare try to pick me up"), and will have her wavering somewhat conflictedly between extrovertedness and introvertedness her whole life. Poor girl.

Another sentiment Kalina is known for is her mild concern. This slight distrust or confusion will likely guide her securely through life as she learns to question, yet not fear, the unknown.

Kalina prefers round objects, and the color yellow. She likes animals and will probably turn out to be a dog person (although not without a certain mommy-ingrained appreciation for cats). She is terrified of swings, yet giggles at the wind in her face. She has been known to patiently wait for a block tower to get tall enough to be truly satisfying to knock down (usually between 4 and 7 blocks high). And she always points out clocks when she sees them.

And yes, Kalina is a fun person to hang out with. We both enjoy seeing new places, making new friends (in a non-committal way sometimes, of course) and being outside in nice weather. Of course, I'm trying to train her to like books and shopping, and she's trying to train me to like putting measuring cups into drawers. It's working on both ends to some extent.

I think we'll get along. I don't know if I would've been able to confidently say that a year ago, but I've developed an appreciation for and understanding of the girl that should at least carry us safely through the next few birthdays. Kalina, for her part, has virtually stopped spitting up on me and instead will occasionally hand me a sock she's been carrying around. Who could ask for anything more? What a sweet little girl.

Kalina's day of fame

Our local newspaper includes a small section called "Slice of Life" on the front cover of its metro section. Judging by today's headlines, this section, which is made up of a couple photos and a caption, serves the purpose of cheering everyone up as they read dismal news from around the city.

Today, the paper hit a bullseye with their choice of a main photo for the page. There, under the headline "A berry, berry good day," Kalina's trademark look of mild concern shines off the page. She's wearing her pretty pink play dress and is eating freshly picked blueberries straight from the bucket, despite her mommy's best efforts to make her stop.

Let's say this again: Kalina is in the newspaper!!! I knew it was only a matter of time, but that doesn't make me any less thrilled or proud.

Her friend Edward and his mommy are there too, by the way, and it's a sweet little collection of photos.

I can't stop looking at the picture. I think I'm going to take it everywhere with me today, and I really wish more people got subscriptions to the newspaper so they'd see my little girl looking so cute. I knew there was a reason I put her in one of her cutest play dresses to go blueberry picking. (Really, what was I thinking?)

The headlines surrounding the pictures read:
80 Cisco Systems RTP workers face layoffs
Blazes damage pair of homes
Obama's choice mum on honor
Convicted felon with two jail stays eyes City Council race
Hmmm.

And yet, according to Kalina's headline, it's a "Berry, berry good day." Thank you, Kalina, for making it so.

Daddy the videographer presents...

Kalina has been busy lately, as has Matt. See for yourself, below.



[Kalina grooving to a "happy birthday" balloon"



[Kalina: Me and Piggy are going for a ride. Why are there handles on the back of this thing?]

At the blueberry patch

Today, Kalina and I went blueberry picking. I picked blueberries while she tried to stay out of trouble, and we both accomplished our tasks to a certain extent. The weather happened to be perfect--cloudy but well-lit--and we arrived early.

The blueberry farm was idyllic, and I felt bad first driving across the freshly mowed lawn to park and then wheeling my heavy-laden stroller back across it on our way to pick berries. Kalina and I brought with us: my purse, the diaper bag, snacks, the mei tai (a front baby carrier for if Kalina got needy at an inopportune time) and a generously sized Tupperware for our berries.

My goal on entering was to pick at least four cups of berries so I could make cobbler. Having picked strawberries before, I was confident I could make it happen.

We grabbed a bucket from the woman manning (womanning?) the berry table and gained permission to wheel the stroller down the rows, which were, fortunately, quite wide and welcoming. I contemplated grabbing two buckets. Would Kalina need one? I decided we could share.

I was immediately out of my element, having only picked strawberries before, but liked all the pretty berries. Some were various shades of pink, others lightish blue, whitish green and blueish purple. I didn't want to ruin the bushes by picking them, but my antsy toddler soon goaded me to dive in. When put in a new place, Kalina gives me about five minutes of free time as she takes in her surroundings that I've learned to use wisely.

I gingerly picked through the berries, taking the most perfect ones and dropping them into the bucket one at a time. Once I had about a dozen, and Kalina made her first frustrated "Help, I'm trapped in the stroller!" movements, I peeked into the bucket to view my progress. Uh-oh--it was rather scanty. Turns out, a dozen blueberries fill nowhere near the space a dozen strawberries do. This could be a bigger project than I thought. Now out of the stroller, Kalina selected a single blueberry to hold in her hand for a while.

Because the most important thing about a trip to the berry patch with a baby is the photography, I decided to take a break and get some shots of Kalina while she was still relatively calm. Meanwhile, Kalina decided that she, too, wanted to examine/eat my progress. The bucket safely moved to the stroller seat, I continued to snap away.

And then it was back to the blueberries. I moved on to a new bush and started grabbing them by handfuls. Many weren't quite ripe, and for that I apologize. Kalina played with the leaves. Bucket check: 2/3 of a cup. Hmm.

I rushed into turbo picking mode and Kalina heightened her activity as well, pushing the stroller, with the brakes on, across the bumpy row. Can you see why we've nicknamed her Mighty Mouse? I chased her down before she could destroy too much of the berry crop, redirected her and continued picking.

Kalina then helped me push the stroller to another bush. I was at about a cup and a half and decided that blueberry cobbler simply wasn't going to happen. Kalina, for her part, decided to give me a hand. She picked greenish-yellow and pink berries while I picked dark blue ones. Thanks, Sweetie!

Then the baby decided she wanted a snack. Not a huge fan of blueberries at home, she ate approximately every other berry I pulled off the bush at the patch. A few minutes later I threw in the towel. I ended up with a little more than two cups--good enough, and at least we had fun.

But the fun wasn't over! On the way out, I held Kalina back from a large white dog and a lake with several funny-looking ducks in it.

Back at home for snacktime, Kalina wanted nothing to do with the blueberries. Maybe she was holding out for the pink ones?

Photo: Take a close look at Kalina's hand

Pediatrician visit!

Yesterday Kalina had her infamous 1-year checkup. Thank goodness it's over.

Matt, between tasks in his preparation for defending his thesis on TUESDAY, magically decided to come with us about three minutes before we had to leave. Hardly able to believe my good fortune, I mentally made the switch from the hold-the-baby-down-while-painful-needles-are-administered role to the comfort-the-baby-while-she's-screaming role, which I'm much better at anyway.

I was also glad that if the receptionist had any questions about our insurance, Matt would be there to answer them, seeing as I can barely remember which company we're with (however, I'm excellent at keeping a tally of how many veggies, fruits, whole grains, protein and iron servings Kalina has had in a given day).

The receptionist was in a one of her good moods. She worked hard to befriend Kalina, who, unfortunately was not to be befriended at this time. Matt and I spent the next few minutes watching Kalina wander around the waiting room and debating about whether to let her touch anything. I struck up a conversation with the mommy of a 2-week-old, who informed me that her baby was sleeping rather well at night. I've tried to stop bursting new moms' bubbles by regaling them with tales about Kalina at 4 months when they tell me that, but the woman was out of luck: this time it was Matt with the bubble-popping pin. I was still reassuring the mom when we were called back for Kalina's appointment.

In the little room, Matt tried to get Kalina used to the exam table while I filled out a form about Kalina's development, read up on the possible side effects of her vaccinations, and fretted. All too soon we were called out for the weighing. Kalina has gained an ounce since her last visit about two weeks ago, for a total of 17 pounds 15 ounces. She's in the 10th percentile for weight again, which is just fine.

The doctor then came in for a routine development chat and exam. We've finally chosen Kalina a pediatrician from the group practice. He's an MD/PhD (but the real kind who did a full PhD, and not a shortened PhD as many MD/PhDs do), and he spent some time in Iowa, so we fully trust him. He has a good way with kids and spins no old wives tales--there's a place for those, but it's not in the doctor's office

I had my concerns alleviated about the fact that Kalina still has cradle cap and doesn't say d's yet. In fact, if my memory serves me right, he said she's the most brilliant child he's ever seen (okay, maybe not in those words...). We talked about nutrition and revisited the nut allergy topic. He advised rubbing various nuts on Kalina's skin if we're worried about them, which sounds like genius to me. He examined her ears, which she hated, and then we stretched her out on the table to measure her.

Kalina screamed bloody murder: so much so that the nurse popped her head in to see if the doctor was administiring the big, bad MMR already. Nope, just marking her length.

I scooped my baby up and she immediately quieted down. We learned that she's 30 inches long, which puts her again in the 75th percentile.

And then it really was time for the 3 shots (1 of which is supposed to be especially painful) and finger prick Kalina would need. We spent the time while the nurse prepared them digging out car keys, cell phones, Mommy's wallet, extra-special save-this-for-when-we-really-need-it toys, etc. to try to distract the baby. The baby was not to be distracted, however, and I was really glad Matt was there.

And yet the worst was not over. It was time for the finger prick: an iron test.

It was an unfortunate coincidence that Kalina had been through a similar procedure that morning when Matt tried to clip her nails (Kalina hates having her nails clipped). This meant that when the nurse grabbed her hand to prick her finger, Kalina knew to let out her best wail.

The friendly receptionist decided to get involved to help cheer the baby up as Kalina sobbed in my arms. [Side note: with very few exceptions, no one but me, and occasionally Matt, is ever able to cheer up my crying baby.] Kalina only burrowed further into my shoulder, perhaps in an effort to tunnel to China where she could escape all this misery.

Afterward, Matt insisted that Kalina didn't mind the fingerprick nearly as much as she did having her hand held steady by a veritable stranger. I had my eyes closed so I couldn't tell.

Kalina sucked her Band-Aid off later as she was stuffing handfuls of Cheerios into her mouth in an attempt to regain her composure. Then we went to a park, where she was truly all better.

Her iron count, by the way, was a safe 11.5.

Photo: Classic Kalina being held by anyone other than Daddy or, preferably, Mommy. Or, "What Kalina Looked Like When Being Poked With Lots of Needles." [Side note: Aunt Nancy and Cousin Poky had spent the week at our house and lots of happy playtime with Kalina. And yet.... *sigh*]