Another attempt at finger foods

This time, finely diced watermelon:

So we went to church

Having not been since Easter Sunday (Jakob has agreed to nap, but only between 10:30 am and 1:00 pm), and about to disappear for a year, we thought we should attend church one more/last time.

To make sure we had a chance to say our good-byes, we stayed for coffee after worship. While we were chatting with someone, I spotted a certain member of the congregation and her pregnant daughter pawing at the Cameleon. (This is the same woman who sniffed at me, "What, you don't already have a Christening gown in your family?" when I complimented her on the one worn at the Baptism of one of her copious grandchildren.) Jakob sat in the Bug, looking up at them, expecting some interaction. His smiles and babbles went unrewarded. All the duo was interested in was the stroller. Who cares about the cute baby, right?

The last I heard was the daughter telling the mother, "You can buy me that stroller for my birthday."

Charming.

I wish I understood what he's saying

Because Jakob is babbling up a storm!

I think I can, I think I can

As I've whined previously, my body is not what it used to be. My shoes just don't fit. Happily, I have witnesses - Mom and Gord, Joan, and of course Jakob - to Werner's promise that I can replace all my shoes. I bought a new pair of Blundstone chisel-toe boots a few days ago, but I'm bound and determined to still wear the leather boots I bought during our Roman holiday.

Now, cleaning out one of our closets, I came across the spiffy hiking boots I bought the summer before last. Not quite as expensive as Blundies, but not cheap either. And, since I was too pregnant and exhausted to hike last summer, they've hardly been worn.

Add those to the list of shoes I'm determined to squeeze into, blisters be damned.

Already attracting the girls

Yesterday, feeling guilty that he'd already watched Baby Einstein's sign language DVD twice while I packed, I popped Jakob into his stroller and headed for the coffee shop. He was due for his nap, and I fantasised that perhaps, just maybe, he'd fall asleep in his stroller and I could enjoy a decaf "Canadiano" and my novel.

What was I thinking? No chance of sleep, to much going on that he just had to watch.

So coffee in hand, I wheeled him to the park and spread out a blanket. Almost immediately, two little girls came over and asked his name and said he was so cute. They wanted to know how old he was and how much he weighed, and kept him entertained by blowing on his pinwheel and touching his hands. He loved the attention!

I wish I'd seen this!

On Sunday, Werner took care of Jakob while I ran some errands. As usual, when he put Jakob in his crib for a nap, Bärchen played for a while before giving in to sleep.

What wasn't so usual is that he must have fallen asleep while playing. When Werner checked on him, he was still sort-of seated, but flopped face first. Too cute, I bet!

A first attempt at finger foods

My aunt mentioned that she offered her kids rice as a finger food. Now that we're back in our own house (and therefore not messing up someone else's home), I thought I'd give it a try.

Jakob seemed to enjoy exploring the rice, but not much made it into his mouth. It was also the first non-organic food he's ever been offered.

We have a new nephew!

Noah was born just over an hour ago. A little heavier and longer than Jakob, he was born just a few days shy of his long-awaited due date.

Congratulations, Johannes and Katja, big sister Hannah and big brother Jonas. We can't wait to see all of you and to meet Noah in a little over a week!

A musical interlude

Even while I was pregnant, I meant to get out my flute. It didn't happen (and I regret that). Now Jakob is nearly 9 months old, and we're about to move away and I'm down to my last chances to play my flute for him.

I finally did this morning. I put him in his crib and (since my music stand got lost in the move from apartment to house) propped the lullaby book up on the change table. I started - as always - with a scale. He was transfixed. I started playing lullabies, and Phoebe joined us in the nursery. Both fascinated with the unexpected sound from the strange silvery tube.

I wish I had done this months ago. I wish I had tried it while pregnant. I wish I had space to take my flute with us.

Good-bye, size 12 months

I'm packing away Jakob's 12 month-sized diaper shirts. They've been on the snug side since around the time we left for the east coast, but I didn't have enough in the next size to get him through from one on-the-road laundry opportunity to the next.

So, now he's restocked, both 18 month and (gasp!) 24 month sizes. When I compared the sizes, the 24 month didn't seem that much bigger, and I decided I'd rather have them a little bulky on him for a start and get more use out of them. Sure, they're only a few dollars each, but we can always find another way to spend those few dollars. Besides we won't have extra capacity for shuttling our belongings to and from Germany.

Sure, blame the mother

From The Globe and Mail's Social Studies page, Tuesday, June 19, 2007:


Ha-ha v. allergies

"Famed for its restorative powers, it now seems that laughter also helps breast milk to fight allergies," reports New Scientist magazine. "Breastfed babies with eczema experienced milder symptoms if their mothers laughed hours before feeding them, according to a study by Hajime Kimata at the Moriguchi-Keijinkai Hospital in Osaka, Japan. He showed breastfeeding mothers either a feature-length Charlie Chaplin movie or bland footage of weather information, and took samples of breast milk at regular intervals afterwards. Two milk feeds later, he also measured their babies' allergic reactions to dust mites and latex. Those infants whose mothers had laughed had markedly reduced reactions.

Food, fast and furious

I've been wondering how I'd ever bring Jakob up to the level of table foods if we continued to hesitate three days between each new food, and the nurse who runs the mom and baby drop-in advised me that I should start introducing even more foods, and at a faster pace. (Of course, she also told me that, with my tendency toward allergies, he should still be avoiding some foods, but these bits of advice seem irreconcilable. Besides, my allergist's office told me not to worry.)

So, with that in mind, he's getting lots more foods. There are only a few foods that I'm still holding off from (corn, strawberries, dairy) for the time being, but other than that, I've let down my guard at least a bit. On Tuesday, he tried egg yolks for the first time (still avoiding egg whites, though, because of allergenicity), Wednesday it was wheat cereal, and on Friday he had canteloupe for the first time.

Taking it down a notch

Now that Jakob is pulling himself up with confidence, it was time to lower the crib base to its lowest setting.

It seems too soon...

I feel so bourgeois

Since Jakob was born, I've longed to have someone in to do a thorough clean of our home. To be honest, I wish we'd done it even before he was born. What with him being in such a rush to be born, I lost the opportunity to go through the 'nesting' phase. Although I did do lots of cooking, I didn't get to the point of cleaning the house from top to bottom. My parents were sweet enough to do that for us while they were visiting, but after that all hope was lost. I lacked both time and energy to do more than the superficial, essential cleaning. It is not how I like to keep my house, and I'm embarrassed by the state of the place.

One of my fantasies has been to have two consecutive days to myself. On the first day, I'd go out. Have a nice lunch, maybe go to a spa (!!), whatever. Just something relaxing and pleasant and a genuine treat. While I'm out enjoying myself, the house would be scrubbed clean. The whole thing: windows, walls, floors, light fixtures, all nooks and crannies. Everything. Then, the second day I'd have the freshly-cleaned house all to myself. With every surface sparkling, I would be able to rest, read, and relax without any hint of hausfrau-ly guilt.

That never happened, of course. That's why it was a fantasy - the land of make-believe.

Now, though, we're struggling to finish all that needs doing before leaving for Germany. We've got to pack what we'll take with us to Europe, pack other stuff to be sent to my parents for the second half of the sabbatical (and that needs to be further sorted into what is to wait for us in Ontario and what will need to be brought over to Germany when they visit us), put everything else in storage, and clean the house. Most of that we have to do by ourselves, but that very last point, we could certainly outsource.

And we did. On Wednesday, two women came here and cleaned for 3.5 hours. They got through most of the list I'd provided, but not quite all. In any case, our house is finally clean.

I only wish we were the ones who would have the opportunity to enjoy it.

Which came first?

In Jakob's case, it was the chicken, but today's new food was egg yolk. He wasn't sure about it, perhaps I'll mix more breast milk in with the mashed yolk next time I serve it to him.

Eeeek!

He's pulling up and cruising!

Good-bye, size 6

I used to be a size 6. Really. I'm not making this up. Thesis-writing was good for my figure. When I'm stressed or busy, I don't eat; the final stages of my doctorate were both stressful and busy, and led to what I thought of as a happy outcome. Besides, I was running then.

Good thing I met Werner just after finishing up, as I'm definitely not a size 6 now, and doubt I ever will be again.

Today I've been cleaning out my closet and dresser, sorting through old clothes. There they were, my treasured skinny-me clothes. {sigh} Most have been set aside for donation, although some I just couldn't part with (everyone needs a little hope, right?).

It was a bit of an archaeological exercise. Not only did I find clothes from grad school, but even dating back to my undergrad days. Flannel shirts, anyone? Then there were the items that - gasp! - I've had since high school. A long black skirt, a well-worn (and well-loved) purple henley shirt... a peach-coloured Beaver Canoe sweatshirt and a Stratford Festival ("Shakespeare lives at Stratford, Ontario") t-shirt, both worn for running. T-shirts from various universities, too.

It's been tricky figuring out what clothes now work on me. My body has changed so much - and I don't think it's going back - that even the clothes that do fit, fit differently. I'm a hodge-podge of sizes, too, depending on the item's cut and style. Yes, that's often true for many women, but I'm finding it more pronounced now.

I guess I'll never again wear skinny clothes (such as they were for me). Chauffering the minivan to soccer practices while wearing undeniably mom-clothes is just around the corner. Hello, mom-jeans, here I come.

What am I feeding this kid?

A little early, but Jakob has had his 9-month check-up. All is well, he weighed in at 9.27 kg, and measured 76.5 cm. That's the 50th percentile for height, and 90th percentile for height!

I need to say it again

I know I've said it before, but I'll say it again: I love my stroller!

It proved itself yet again during the trip. First, we (I) forgot to bring the Baby Bjorn on our trip out to Peggy's Cove. Although we certainly couldn't wheel him right out over the cliffs (not sure I'd have brought him that far out, even with the Bjorn), the Bug was up to the task of heading out to the rocks. Same for Twillingate, where we hiked with Hazel. In St. John's, we carted Jakob all over the harbour area, up and down hills, and through crowds. The sunshield protected him in the glorious weather, and he slept happily, cosy and comfortable.

And then, the return trip. The adult:child ratio was 1:1, for the first time. I had a backpack, a diaper bag, the carseat (complete with base, weighing a total of 16.7 lbs), and of course Jakob and the Bug. At the airport, I carried the backpack on my back, looped the diaper bag across the stroller's handlebars, and hooked the carseat in the crook of my arm. Jakob sat in his stroller, and I was able to negotiate through the crowds courtesy of the Bug's one-handed steering. I wouldn't have coped without that easy steering. For that one trip alone, the Cameleon was worth every cent.

Back to the left coast

We're back in Vancouver. Jakob once again did me proud during the flights! Since he had his own seat, except for take-off and landing (when I nursed him), he sat contentedly in his carseat. In fact, he slept most of the way! I even got to read and to enjoy my iPod!

It was a pain schlepping the carseat through the airport, but it was well worth it to not have to hold Jakob all the way from one edge of the continent to the other. At YVR, we landed at a distant gate, one that is used for both domestic and international flights; one of the flight attendants took pity on me, and carried the carseat to the luggage carousel.

Werner was waiting for us. It was Father's Day, and I was so glad he was able to spend at least a bit of the day with our Bärchen.

Visiting North America's oldest city

We arrived in St. John's on Friday evening and don't fly out until Sunday afternoon, so we've got a full day and a bit to explore. We spent hours on the waterfront, enjoyed some good Newfoundland food at Velma's Place, and did some shopping. And the weather couldn't have been any better!

Laughing with Nanny

Riding in the car can be fun when Nanny's in the back seat too!

This is the way we dress our bear, dress our bear, dress our bear

Early in the morning!