Our Thanksgiving

(He's not really dead...he's just bobbing for apples)

While it was technically Lila’s second Thanksgiving, we like to think of this year as her first: it was her first time watching her parents slowly give themselves nervous breakdowns trying to throw it themselves.


(Who needs a dining room table when you can rent one for $19 a day?)

Not being able to make it back East to see our families, we decided to invite 7 people over for dinner. Thanksgiving is a time for overreaching!

Josh took on the turkey and stuffing, while Christine handled everything else – mashed potatoes, brussel sprouts, sweet potato pudding with crème fraiche, apple turnovers, and pumpkin pots de crème. We also had some key contributions from our invited guests. Lila was in charge of crawling all over the kitchen, getting dangerously close to the oven.


(the spread)


The night before Thanksgiving, nearly everything was (miraculously) in order, except for one thing: the turkey we thought was going to arrive thawed on Wednesday came frozen. This nixed the brining plan, and Josh spent the entire afternoon watching the turkey brick float in a cooler of cool water, willing it to defrost, and then lay awake most of the night panicking that it might either not be thawed enough in the morning, or have thawed so early that it was spoiled. Christine lay in bed next to him, also awake, panicked that everything else might go wrong. That’s why me make a good couple: we divide the panicking duties well.

But the next morning, the turkey was thawed and cool, and everything seemed in order. Lila was decked out in the outfit we’ve been waiting for her to grow into, an adorable dress from France (thanks Karen and Tim!) that it is impossible for a child not to look cute in, and the guests started arriving at 2:30. There were Lisa and Eric (who arrived ten minutes after landing at the airport from producing a TV show in New Orleans), and their baby Sascha (the happiest, clappiest baby in the world, also known as the Baby Whose Flawless Sleeping Habits Have Been Making Us Jealous for Eight Months). Also, Andy, Meredith, and Avery (known to readers of this blog as the Backwards Sheep), Dan and Gillian (from Josh's work), and Adam, a co-worker of Lisa’s, who dealt with a room full of yelling babies like a champ.


(La belle bébé)



(Lila, Sascha and Avery...the definition of parallel play)



(Meredith, Avery and Sascha)


All told, the meal came off nearly according to plan. While the babies all played on the lawn, we hovered in the kitchen, staring at heating pans and pots begging them not to let us down. The turkey came out only an hour after anticipated, and, amazingly, emerged looking very intact in the face of the 400 puncture wounds it suffered from Josh’s overzealous meat thermometer poking.

Just as we can’t seem to take a picture that doesn’t include four electrical cords dipping in like ivy, we also couldn’t find an attractive setting for the finished turkey, so the top of dryer had to do, with a tool box as backdrop. But Lila seemed to approve of it, in theory, even if she refused to eat any turkey. (She did prove a big fan of mashed potatoes and Gillian’s green-bean casserole. She also demonstrated that food-throwing is not a kitchen-only habit for her. Very versatile, our baby.)


(Doesn't it look as though Josh has just pulled the turkey out of the dryer?)



(turkey and sweet potatoes)


It was a great time with some great new friends, and we proved to ourselves that we can handle a holiday. Now we just have to find a way to do it without it upsetting our mental health.



(Even when she's angry, she's cute!)

Say Please

(Hello cord! I see you!)


Before we introduce today's topic - manners - perhaps it must be explained first why Lila is sitting her her toy basket.

If only we knew.

We have a plastic bucket of toys in the living room that is low and wide, and recently she has started climbing into it and throwing toys out. Then I bought this new basket for her kitchen toys at Target today, and as soon as she saw it, she climbed into it too. No reason, I guess, but darn cute.

Moving on...

Aida has been dilligently teaching Lila to use sign language, and this week we really started to see her use it to communicate. "More" and "please" are the ones she's mastered, and though they are rudimentary, she is clearly pleased to get her point across. "Please" is the one we are particularly excited about, because currently even the slightest desire is expressed in a bark of distress, especially when it comes time to read "Pat the Bunny" for the 50th time in a day. It's not a seamless transition to signing, however. Here is the current system:


(1. "EEAAACKKK!" Translation: "Read this to me NOW!"



(2. Daddy: "Can you say 'please?'" Lila signs "please")



(3. Daddy reads the book to Lila)



(4. "EAAACKKK!" Translation: "Read it AGAIN!")

Return to step 2. Repeat. Repeat. Repeat!

A Look Back

(bedtime...or so we hoped)


Maybe it's because I'm consumed by Sweeps - the television ratings period where everything we do is dramatically heightened for maximum emotional impact - but I was looking through some pictures and decided it was time for a brief highlight reel of Lila's early days.

It's a little late for a one-year retrospective of La Vida Lulu, but if any of you had a fussy infant you might understand that the first 2 months were a teary and confused blur for both Lila and me. It was only in the weeks just before Thanksgiving that I was able to shower on a daily basis and complete the simplest of tasks without bursting into tears. Her fussiness didn't ease up in a significant way until the middle of January, but it was a year ago almost exactly when we saw a glimpse of hope, thanks to a crucial decision.



(first bath)


We had started out with a matronly pediatrician who was dismissive and remote, and the final straw with her came one day in early November when, debilitated by back spasms, I hobbled into her office for the flu nasal mist (the less desirable alternative to the scarce flu shot) and was reprimanded by her staff for stating aloud to the receptionist my purpose for being there. I said I was there for the flu shot (I had forgotten the exact verbiage "nasal mist" and figured they would know what I was talking about) and apparently someone in the waiting room felt outraged that our pediatrician was doling out precious flu shots to adults (since babies under 1 year aren't given flu shots, it is fairly standard course is to inoculate the parents). A nurse took me into a waiting room and told me in harsh terms that I had gotten them all into trouble. As I limped home, I can recall the humiliation of letting out one uncontrollable sob that caused a stranger in front of me to cross to the other side of the street.

The next day I brought my fussy bundle of rage to Dr. Bess R., a sunny woman in her early 30's who suggested I try all the wives tales remedies for colic, promised me that I had a healthy, beautiful baby who would soon mellow out, and gave me a pat on the shoulder of reassurance that my previous doctor seemed too stingy to administer. She also taught me a nifty party trick where she pushed Lila's knees hard into her belly 3 times...Lila giggled the first 2 passes, and then let out an enormous fart on the third. Rarely has broken wind smelled so sweet.


(Infancy...when male pattern baldness symptoms are adorable)


A week later at our regular appointment, Dr. Bess gave us a strategy for putting Miss Lulu to bed at night. We had been putting her down for the night (in theory) at 10, and she told us to put her down earlier, as early as 6:30, as late as 7:30. This sounded like madness to me. She also told us to give her a bath, nurse her, then do one thing to separate nursing from bed (she suggested a book or a song), then put her down in her crib awake, turn out the light and leave the room. This plan made about as much sense to me as putting her crib in the street and hoping the sound of traffic would soothe her down to slumber. Lila had never slept longer than 4 hours in a row, and had never fallen asleep without being rocked or shushed.

That night she slept 8 hours in a row. Woke once and went back down without a fuss for another 4.

I now worship at the altar of Dr. Bess.



(One of my favorite photos of Lulu and her dad)

Shaving Cream A Go Go

(yet another stirring photo backdrop)

Aida is a fount of knowledge for fun baby activities. Yesterday, she and Lila broke out the shaving cream and Lila got to go to town. Lately Lila has had a lot of fun playing with kitchen utensils, and her favorite is the whisk, which she uses to stir up imaginary stews, poke her animal friends, and, of course, point. But a whisk in shaving cream (you can see it in her hands if you look carefully) was the pinnacle of excitement! Lots of stirring! Good times!

The picture we haven't taken yet

Avery's dad Andy took this great picture of Lila a few weeks ago.

We have GOT to get a new camera.

Grumpiness Resolved

(When Lila goes to school do you think we can keep Aida on as a clothing consultant? How does she come up with these adorable little outfits?)

Lila has developed a 2 week sleep cycle in the past couple of months, whereby she starts out rested, and over the course of 2 weeks gets more and more sleep deprived until she is in an uncharacteristacally grumpy state (see previous post). Then the cycle culminates with a morning where she is dazed and docile, like yesterday, and her usual hour nap extends from it's usual one hour, to two hours, to three hours, to four hours to a FIVE HOUR NAP. She went down yesterday at 11 AM and woke up at 4. And is so utterly zonked that she still goes down willingly, thumb in mouth, at 7:30. Bizarre.

And so the cycle begins again.

Halloween

(From the Awkward Family Outing playbook, pg 4)


For Lila’s first Halloween, Aida and her two nanny friends decided to throw their favorite babies a costume party in the park. One of the many things that proved to Christine and me that we were meant to be married is our mutual hatred of costumes; both of us tried to avoid Halloween at all costs at a very young age, and have spent all of our adult Halloweens cowering in our apartments, terrified to answer our phone for fear that there will be someone on the end who will invite us somewhere that involves a mask.

But that doesn’t mean we’re not above dressing up our daughter. We figure that soon enough genetics will have their way and she’ll start hiding on October 31, too. But until free will kicks in, we’ll let her get in the holiday spirit. So we bought her a turtle costume and looked forward to the big day…until Aida told us that it would really be nice if we got into the spirit and got dressed up, too.


("I'm pretty sure this kitty cat is also my mommy.")


Any other time, we’d have instantly thought of an important “appointment” we had that day. But daughter trumps grouchiness. Christine opted for the tried and true cat costume, running to fight the crowds at Party City the day before the party (when we seem to do our best work). I figured I could do one of two things: not dress up and be a wet blanket, or put a bedspread over my head and spray myself with a hose and go as a Wet Blanket. At the last minute, I searched the apartment for anything costume-like and found the pith helmet that I was given to pose in for a Golf magazine article I did earlier this year. I put on some cargo shorts, a khaki-colored shirt, and some work boots, tucked some of Lila’s stuffed animals in my pockets, and went as a zookeeper. The pith helmet was key. Once it came off, I just looked like a poorly dressed plushie fetishist.

Off we went to the party, leaving Lila’s costume in the trunk since the padding in her “shell” would be uncomfortable for the car. We pulled up to the park, saw the orange and black balloons in the distance, and wrestled Lila into her costume in the parking lot. It became instantly clear that Lila is very much her parents’ child. Look, if you will, at the following pictures and you will see a completely disinterested and mildly disgruntled baby. “Get it?” she seems to say. “I’m a turtle. Very cute, very cute. Now when can we end this charade?”


("So is this a holiday where we celebrate turtles? Because I'm still not clear on why I'm dressed this way.")


You may also notice something else in the pictures. None of the other parents are in costumes. In fact, Eva, one of the other nannies, wasn’t either. Aida had a belly-dancer outfit on, but was cold and wrapped a coat around herself so she was costumed in theory only. As we made the long, slow walk toward the group in their street clothes, we felt like those people in your workplace who show up as Paris Hilton or Tom Cruise and Katie Holmes and run around the office all day chastising you for having no holiday spirit…when in reality we are just the opposite. So off came the pith helmet, because I’d rather be thought of as a poorly dressed deviant than a ham. Christine made the cat thing work all day, because she is a better person than I.


(As close to a full blown smile as Lila got all day, in the arms of Aida)


Back to Lila, however: she endured the ignominy of her turtle punishment all day like a champ. Even we, who think she is the most beautiful baby in the world, have to admit that perhaps “turtle” wasn’t the way to go, and for that we apologize to her. Her friend Avery, however, was the cutest little sheep you’ve ever seen, while pal Lola was a delightful fairy.


(The adorableness quotient is quadrupled when you realize Avery is wearing her lamb costume backwards)


We quickly forgot our costume woes, however, when Aida’s friend Pilar unveiled the most glorious Mexican feast. Home-cooked enchiladas with mole, tostadas, vegetable salads, each one better than the next. I’d be willing to dress up as the back end of a horse with Tom Sizemore up front for a little more of that.

All in all, costumes be damned, it was a wonderful day. Lila even got to swing at her first piñata, though we think the turtle thing affected her joy when sitting amidst the spoils. That and the fact that she has no idea what a Skittle is, nor would we give her any. Many thanks to Aida, Pilar, and Eva!


(Lulu's first pinata)



(After 4 toddlers fail to make a dent in the pinata, Lila hits the pinata with a bat while Aida hits the pinata with Lila!)



(The scramble for Skittles)

The Family Bunnybear

For those of us who have followed Lila's life chronicle thus far, you know that Lila, Josh and I are very attached to a particular bear in a bunny outfit whom we call Mr. Bunnybear. He is so much a part of our family, that sometimes I find him in the backseat of my car on a busy weekday, and I can't help but but bury my nose in his green bunny suit and take a long, deep hit of Bunnybear, because nothing evokes my Lulu to me quite like his parallel scent.

Imagine our delight when we were out shopping for Lila's first birthday present when we stumbled upon Big Daddy Bunnybear and Medium Mama Bunnybear to step in as the symbolic parents of our beloved tiny Mr. Bunnybear. I look at them all together in their little buggy and it brings a lump to my throat. Bunnybears! Together! Forever!


(Bunnybears out for a drive)

Fashion Statements

(Aida strikes again)


Aida once again has put Lila out ahead of the fashion curve, scraping together wisps of her curls into pigtails last week. Cute!

Lila's other main hair accessory is her duck hat (a gift from Uncle Joe and Bev), which she is oddly partial to, considering she has never tolerated any other headgear.


("Yeah, that's right, I got a duck on my head. You got a problem with that?")


Lila wore it at Trader Joe's the other day and you would have thought she was wearing a ball gown for all the attention it got her. Anything that prompts grown men and women to quack at a small child is a wonderful thing.



(Just thinking about ducks...)


I'm not even sure she knows it's a duck. I suppose that doesn't matter, does it? Until she has more hair for Aida to work with, it's pretty darn entertaining.

Happy New Year!

(Will we ever take a picture that doesn't have a tangle of cords in the background?)

We're backtracking a little, but Happy New Year to Josh's family celebrating Rosh Hoshanah and observing Yom Kippur. This year we decided to make our own Rosh Hoshanah dinner, and solicited Linda's ginger carrot recipe as well as her kugel. Nana Ann was in town the day before the holiday, so she called up her friend Ginny Nathan, who provided us with a delicious brisket recipe. Nana Ann did some prep work, but Josh really pulled together the meal and executed most of it. And oh! was he proud. Rightfully so - it was a tasty and sweet dinner, with lots of leftovers.

I'll spare you the picture of josh kissing the kugel.


(Chef Joshie gives us a preview of Le Brisket)



(Have carrots ever looked more interesting?)



(Kugel!)

Hooray for Birthdays!

How do you celebrate a girl who has been alive for 365 days? We considered all the staples – bowling, mini golf, make your own sundaes – but ultimately decided that since she would likely just lick the bowling ball, eat the golf ball, and enjoy playing with a spoon more than eating ice cream, we’d have a barbecue instead.








We invited over some of her closest confidantes, and Daddy stood over the grill, churning out the burgers and dogs (an electronic timer nervously clipped to his belt so he wouldn’t overcook them for even a second) while Mommy had made some delicious salads. Lila’s fellow babies happily ate their birthday hats while the older 4-year-old guests inspected and analyzed the contents of the birthday girl’s toy chest.








Fun was had by all – although most of the younger guests didn’t have the power of speech, so who knows, really – and it all ended with some fabulous Beverly Hills cupcakes. (At least I hope they were fabulous because they were really friggin’ expensive. Take that, Magnolia Bakery!) All in all, we can say her first party was a success, considering she really didn’t care who was there or what anybody was eating. We guess it only gets more difficult from here on in.