Aubergine

My baby doesn't have a baby book

There, I've said it.

I think I do a lot of things right as a mom, but I've totally TOTALLY failed on this front.  I have blank baby books (two or three of them!) but none that have anything in them.

I feel terrible about this.  My own baby book is a treasured posession.  I love reading my mom's notes about what gifts people brought me as a newborn, and each of my firsts.  I love the lock of hair she saved (almost the same color as my daughter's!).  I love my mom's tiny tiny neat handwriting, which has changed so much over the length of my life.  I love looking at my old report cards and school pictures.  

It isn't that I haven't marked down any memories or milestones; I have.  I also have stacks of important saved items, like the impossibly small hospital anklet with "Baby Girl Bumgarner" printed on it, the extra copy of her first passport photo, and a large stack of cards from her first birthday. I also have thousands of photos on my computer and almost-monthly letters that I wrote to her during the first year, and a digital calendar where I took note of all sorts of firsts. 

But none of this stuff is in a book.

I don't know, maybe it doesn't need to be.  There are so many ways of capturing memories these days.  I think part of what's holding me back from starting an actual baby book is just not knowing what to put in and what to leave out.  Do I print out all of my Facebook status updates from the first several months of her life?  How do I wittle down the thousands of photos to one for each month?  How do I include the letters, or do I want to keep those separate until she is older? What about all the precious videos of her from my iPhone? Should I include a DVD?

I'd love to hear from some of you other busy mamas.  Do you have baby books for your babies?  What form do they take?  Do they have digital as well as physical components?

And those of you with older kids, what did you do?  How do your kids feel about their books, or the lack thereof, as the case may be?

10 Things I Have Learned From My Daughter

A gorgeous smile will get you everywhere.

Adequate rest is essential.

Playing is the best way to learn.

If you need a little reassurance, bring a friend.

Be proud of your accomplishments. Even little ones.

Everything is entertaining if you want it to be.

Everybody is interesting

Life is AWESOME.

Books are endlessly entertaining. (I knew this already, but it bears repeating.)

It is important to go outside every day.

But most importantly, I have learned to believe that I am a good mama.

Happy Mother's Day to all of you Mothers, Grandmothers, and Aunties.

Read to me! The best board books (at 15 months)

I read a study recently that showed a correlation between young children being exposed to TV (even in the background) and poor performance in cognitive and reading related tasks.  The report said the researchers surveyed 1,450 households and found children between eight months and eight years old were exposed to an average of four hours of TV a day.  

Four hours!

I find that slightly horrifying.

We err way in the other direction.  I'm not sure I watch even four hours of TV in a week myself (and by TV I mean movies, because we don't have cable), and most weeks all of that is after Bean is in bed.

That isn't to say we don't have screen time, so don't think I'm getting all preachy Waldorf here.  We love our computers and iDevices.  Bean even has her own iPhone (without a service plan!) on which she plays Peekaboo Barn.  Over and over.

But the biggest entertainment for the kid in this house is books.  You know when your kid is quiet for just a beat too long and you have to go check to see what they have gotten into?  Nine times out of ten I round the corner and find her with a book on her lap, flipping the pages and studying the pictures.  

Here are her current favorites, at 15 months.  Almost all of them I've read so often I have memorized them. And most of them I still like!

Everywhere Babies, by Susan Meyers.  Illustrated by Marla Frazee.

This story has simple, rhyming text and beautiful, detailed illustrations. This one has been a favorite for many months - what baby doesn't love looking at other babies?  Recently we've been talking more about what's going on in the drawings.  There are cats, dogs, balloons, and lots of colors to look for and talk about.  

10 Minutes Until Bedtime, by Peggy Rathmann.

With similarly detailed drawings but very few words, this is a really fun bedtime book.  It shows a little boy getting ready for bed with the help and accompanyment of a host of hamsters, who are doing all kinds of interesting things on each page.  I love that on the storytime page, the kid is reading a copy of 10 Mintues Until Bedtime.

Jamberry, by Bruce Degen.

This book originally came into the house as a hand-me-down from Bean's babysitter's kids, inspired because Bean loves her blueberries. The story is singsong, with made-up berry words and fun illustrations.  Iread this book every day at least once. I love that the illustration on each page hints at the story on the next page - it took me a while to notice that!  There is a lot going on in each drawing and lots to talk about and point out.  I've given this book as a gift already several times.

Moo, Baa, La La La, But Not The Hippopotamus, Snuggle Puppy, and Barnyard Dance, by Sandra Boynton

If you don't know Sandra Boynton's books, run, do not walk, to the bookstore and check her out.  Her board books are fantastic for toddlers.  Simple, silly stories, illustrated with funny animals (and not just the usual farm animals!).  Several of her books are available in an interactive, narrated format in the iTunes store.  Snuggle Puppy and Barnyard Dance require you, the reader, to be willing to sing a little, but your kid's grin will make the awkwardness of that totally worth it. Hearing my guy bust out his full-on southern twang for Barnyard Dance is awesome.

Brown Bear, Brown Bear, What Do You See?, by Bill Martin, Jr.  Illustrated by Eric Carle.

I've seen this book at all of my friend's houses recently.  It is a classic, and a great showcase for Eric Carle's style. Very simple story, very repetitive.  Bean tends to turn the pages faster than I can read so she can see each animal.  She loves the page at the end that shows them all in one place and we have been practicing the signs for each animal as we look at that page together.  I was delighted to find that the teacher in the story sports classes in a color very close to the color of Bean's frames.

Hand, Hand, Fingers, Thumb, by Al Perkins.  Illustrated by Eric Gurney

This book is a recent addition.  I found it before Easter and put it in Bean's basket.  Although it always leaves me slightly out of breath to read it at her preferred speed, I love that the rhythm of the text makes her dance. yesterday she was drumming on the toilet lid while I was brushing my hair and I sang, "Dum ditty, dum ditty, dum dum dum!" to her.  She rushed out of the room, pulled all the books off of the shelf until she found this one, and brought it over to me with a big grin on her face.

Go, Dog, Go, by PD Eastman.

This book has a Seussian quality about it, so I always confuse it with Dr. Seuss books.  It was a very early favorite, and has held its place in the lineup for many months.  It is a nice small size, easy for her to hold and turn the pages herself.  The last illustration, the dog party which is the destination of all the going, can hold her attention for a long time.

Don't Let the Pigeon Drive the Bus, by Mo Williams

 This one is not a board book, but Bean is surprisingly gentle with it.  It is part of a series of books about a pigeon, in this case with aspirations to be a bus driver.  The illustrations are graphic, large, with muted colors.  It is really fun to read and would make a great story circle book.  It can be really interactive if the reader asks the kids what they think: "Should we let the pigeon drive the bus?"  Bean is a sweetie, though. She always says yes, we should.

Ordinary life in pictures

When exactly did she turn into a toddler?

Shake your diapered booty: a track list for toddlers

I have a couple of kids music CDs.  They are still in their plastic wrappers.  We listen to a lot of music around here, but none of it would be tagged "Kids" in iTunes.  

My Bean likes best when her Daddy plays his guitar, but she's pretty happy with recorded tunes, too. She was pretty excited to discover those little black boxes we always have in our hands (see photo above) also make music.  

She's partial to music with a beat.  She likes vocals with passion.  She likes it when her mama sings along.  And she loves it when one of us picks her up and dances around the room with her.

She's been dancing since she was able to stand up.  Her response to the question, "Do you want some music?" is to wiggle her body. She now signs "more" and then wiggles when she wants me to turn on the house soundtrack.  Like when she's eating breakfast.  Or coloring.  I came up behind her a few days ago just after turning on the stereo and found her balanced at the coffee table, feeling the music.  Hip, hip, shoulder swoop, bounce bounce bounce. She didn't know I was there and continued grooving while I stood there with a lump of love in my throat, grinning like a goon.

Bean's Bets for Booty Bumping

• Bob Marley's Legend. But really, who doesn't love this album?
• Dave Matthews, especially the album Crash.  She likes the live albums, too, and will stop whatever she's doing to clap along with the audience between tracks.
• Ray LaMontagne's latest album God Willin' & The Creek Don't Rise.  We both like the track Repo Man best on this album.
• The first four tracks on Bonnie Raitt & Friends.
• Old Ani DiFranco albums.  Because she's my daughter.  Probably because she heard so much Ani while still in the womb.
• The funkier of Sean Hayes' songs like Dolores Guerrero and Feel Good.  
• Steve Miller Band Greatest Hits.  This album is summertime to me. It requires throwing open all the doors and windows and sitting out on the back deck, barefoot and drinking iced sun tea. We were visiting someone last weekend at a vacation resort and The Joker was playing a couple of doors down. Bean wiggled and wiggled until her father set her on the ground, where she immediately started dancing.  

Lullabies and Wind-Down Tracks (as recommended by Mama)

• Two albums are in the CD changer in my car and never come out: Chris Pureka's Dryland and Deb Talan's A Bird Flies Out. Both of these would put her right to sleep when she was younger and I resorted often to the car when she wouldn't nap.
• Mozart's Requiem, as performed by The Academy of St. Martin in the Fields. 
• The album Good Night, Baby has only three tracks, but they are long.  They are very relaxing instrumental music, mixed with ambient sounds including a heartbeat and rainfall.  Awesome any time she's having trouble settling down into sleep.

What is your favorite music to listen to with your little one?  What music do you like that is actually kid's music?

Ordinary life in pictures

"She thinks books hold treasure," her father said the other night. "In some it is easier to find than in others."

I can't tell you how delighted I am that my child is a lover of books.  Me, too, Sweet Pea. Me, too.

I put my baby in a box

And she loves it.

I have been cooking dinner with Bean at my feet for a while now.  She has a set of play food and play pans and access to the tupperware cabinet.  But as she gets taller and more inquisitive, I've been getting more and more nervous about her roaming the kitchen below hot pans and near a hot oven. Her dad doesn't get home from work early enough to help distract her during this window of time, so I needed another solution.

I read about the Fun Pod on Liz Lamoreux's blog recently. Her daughter is just a little older than mine and at about the same developmental stage.  A couple of  local mom friends with slightly older toddlers have the Learning Tower, but I was worried about the open sides.  Bean isn't quite walking yet, and I was afraid she'd slip and fall out.  Or climb in when I didn't want her to have access to the counter.  Also it has a huge footprint and I do not have a large kitchen.

The Fun Pod was exactly what I was looking for.  It allows Bean to be up at counter height with me, safely, and only when I want her there because she can't climb in and out on her own. It is sturdy and stable, but small enough that I'm not tripping over it. It is short enough to fit under the counter when not in use.  The Pod can be adjusted as she gets taller so it should be useful until she is several years old.

Our kitchen isn't arranged in a way that allows her to be very close while I'm actually cooking, though I have let her play in the sink behind me once and I imagine it will be great for her to help me clean up when she's a bit bigger.  Usually I set her up on the opposite side of our penninsula, in the dining room, but facing me.  She can color, play with blocks, or eat a snack while I cook.  She's not underfoot, is safe from the hot stuff, and can see me. She also asks to get in throughout the day so she's in and out of the thing all day.

I'm cheap when it comes to baby stuff.  With the exception of her car seat, I've managed to source almost all of her big items free (from friends or freecycle) or used and cheap.  But I'm really glad I invested in this item brand new.  We use it so often, and will be using it for years.

Is there anything better than this?

I love her full tilt

My fingers are cold.  The back of my neck is cold. My toes are cold through my fuzzy socks.  My sweater's sleeves are pulled down past my wrists and my legs are curled up beneath me but still the chill of this house creeps in.  

I crave tonight the ability to focus on one thing but my mind is jumpy and electric.  It is listing for me things I need to get done before the contractor starts work on our bedroom next week, the list of topics I'm narrowing down for queries, the format of the magazine I was studying earlier today, the schedule of my busy day tomorrow, and telling me I really should get up to get another of those yummy heart-shaped cherry jellies I brought home from Whole Foods this evening.  In the space I can wrest between those thoughts the sound of the monitor flows in.  I hear the hum of the humidifier which has become our white noise machine but my ears strain for sounds of rustling or cries.  The baby is sick and as much as I have things I need to do on my computer tonight before I go to bed, the length of the house feels too far away from her.  The audio thread keeps me just enough in the room with her to let me keep working away at my list for just a little longer.

The LHM texted me tonight to tell me he had posted and then pulled a photo of our Bean joyfully eating a birthday cupcake from Facebook because one of his friends had just posted that his nephew had died after surgery yesterday.  "How, exactly, does one observe the period of mourning on Facebook?" he asked.  I don't think I would have pulled down the photo, were I in his shoes.  I have lived enough life to have felt the continuum of it, from heartbreakingly beautiful to heartbreakingly awful, often enough side by side. Somehow it seems fitting for even my Facebook news feed to reflect that ebb and flow.  My heart breaks for the grief of his friend (more for that child's mother), but my first response to the news was to pull my daughter close and look again at how beautiful and miraculous she is.  I would not wish to rub my joy in my daughter's life into the would of that family, but my joy is fierce because I know how much I stand to lose.  I know how easily I could be destroyed if anything were to happen to her.

I knew something was not right with her all day today.  There wasn't any one particular thing she did, but I kept looking for clues.  Twice she pulled on her ear, and several times she lost her balance and bumped her head.  She has wanted to nurse much more today than is usual and she hasn't wanted to range far away from me in her play.  Over and over she would pull up on my legs and ask to be held, ask to nurse.  And then tuck herself in to me, far less squirmy than usual, and gaze up at me with drowsy eyes. When we were out running errands this afternoon she was drowsing between each stop, which is unusual.  In the grocery store she stayed tucked in to me in the carrier and still, just looking out quietly over the edge of the hood.  Once back in the car she feel asleep before I even pulled out of the space.  These things are not normal.  I knew there was something wrong.  When I took her temperature tonight I was almost relieved to see it was a bit high.  Finally, some proof of my intuition.  But also, the prickle of fear knowing that something is wrong with my baby and I don't really know what or how long it will take her to ride it out.  Always the fear that it will turn dangerous, that we will need to rush her to the ER for help.  Always I imagine that the worst will happen.  Not the worst - even in my imagination my fear stops me short of the actual worst.  But the worst I can imagination, that I have imagery for.  Always I go there right from the start.  

My child has been healthy in her first year.  She has had a couple of colds and only one with a fever, but even then the fever was not so high and acetaminophen brought it down quickly.  We have been lucky.  I know mamas who have been though much more with their little ones, walked much closer to the edge of despair than I have had any reason to.  Because it is such a fine line we walk.  Babies are so small, so fragile.  So much can go wrong.  So many things can hurt them.  And I have lived enough life to know that many things will, whether they leave visible scars or invisible ones.  And it is not possible to love our children less to protect ourselves.  I love her full tilt.  I would not love her any less. 

And so I sit here next to the monitor, straining to hear her soft sleeping breath over the hum, and know I will soon give in and go curl up next to her to keep vigil over her sleep.

To my little bean on her first birthday

At this time last year I was in labor.  I had been in labor for over 60 hours.  I was hurting, tired and just a little bit scared.  And as it turned out I had most of a full day yet to go before you were finally born.  I should write the story of your birth for you.  I should write the story of my pregnancy for you.  I should write out the story of the love between your father and I.  I should tell you the story of your name and how long we took to decide on it.  There are so many stories I want to tell you, to capture for you.  I want to make sure you know your history, who your parents are and how much you were wanted.  How much you are loved and were loved even before you were born. 

But I'm not really ready to tell those stories yet.  For now, only these fragments: 

You were conceived on a night that was both hard and wonderful. Something happened that night that made me realize your father was going to be there when things got tough and that I could depend on him to be my rock.  My rusty old heart creaked open a bit that night, and you chose that moment to enter.

My pregnancy was both hard and wonderful.  I have never felt so beautiful as when I was pregnant.  Also I was often sick and had a very painful period of back issues. But I loved feeling you move inside of me.  I loved having your companionship in my body. I spend a lot of time wondering about you.  Who would you be?  What would you look like?  What was my life going to be like with you in it? 

Your birth was both hard and wonderful.  It did not go as I had planned, hoped, or imagined.  It hurt much more than I expected.  You were not born at home as I wanted, or in water like I wanted, but birthing in the hospital was far better than I had feared.  There were only short moments when I was scared for your safety because I had the best birthing team I could have hoped for.  Feeling you move through and out of my body was primal, magical.  You were delivered into a room full of people who loved you the instant they saw you. And when they laid you on my belly and you looked at me with your big dark serious eyes, I was so amazed I could hardly catch my breath. I made you.  We made you.  And you are so beautiful.  You are so perfect.

On the eve of your first birthday, I am still in awe of the fact of you.  I MADE you.  I grew you inside my belly and here you are, this little person with a personality, opinions, a sense of humor, an ability to show delight and love.  You are exactly the combination of your father and me.  Your eyes are the shape of mine.  Your upper lip is the shape of his.  You have his long toes and long legs and my short torso and light hair.  You are cautious like me and physical like him. From both of us you inherited a deep curiosity and desire to figure out how things work.  Your blue eyes are all your own, a quirk of genetics that I'm so grateful for. You are amazing.  So beautiful.  So perfect. 

Just in the last month you have gone from being a baby to being a toddler.  You got suddenly so big and tall.  You are no longer long, but tall. You are not yet walking (though when you decide you are ready, I think you will just get up and walk across the room), but you cruise around confidently and crawl really fast with your hands slap-slapping across the floor.  You stand up straight now - no more bowed baby legs.  You are lean and strong.  I can see the muscles in your thighs, your arms, across your back.  Your body is so beautiful - I love witnessing your unselfconsciousness in the way you move and I hope that lasts for a very long time.  You are very vocal.  You have a sound to call us, a sound to direct us to get you something or take you somewhere, a sound of greeting for the cats, a sound when you are excited to nurse.  You babble to yourself when you play, you practice syllables and the back and forth of conversation with me while we eat or shop or play together.  You say "num num num" when you are eating food you particularly like (blueberries and bananas this week), and in the last couple of days you have been saying, "ma ma ma" to everything around you but me.  You laugh when I say, "That's me!" so I'm pretty sure you know what the sounds mean. You have learned to shake your head "no" though only sometimes does it really mean "no." You are practicing to see when it fits.  I ask you a rhetorical question: "Stella, did you drop that cup on purpose?"  You shake your head no.  I give it back and you very purposely hold it off the edge of the table and drop it again.  You shake your head no.  And then grin that toothy grin at me.

You have all eight of your front teeth and in the last two weeks grew two more – a canine and your first molar on the bottom right side.  You were surprisingly mellow about the molar, though it took a chunk of gum off as it came through and must have been incredibly painful.  But you are always mellow. 

You have learned to hug this month.  You hug me, you hug your father, you hug the cats.  You discovered baby dolls when we were visiting our friends in Australia and you hugged them, too.  I admit I bought you a stuffed koala bear in the airport on the way home because you pointed at it and made your "I want that!" sound and when I picked it up and let you see it you cuddled it.  Instant mama puddle. You are still hugging it at home, too.

You also learned how to negotiate steps while we were traveling, practicing up and down and up and down the one step into the room where we slept at Jo’s house.  Now you can go up and down the two into and out of my studio like a pro.  I sit nearby and marvel.  You are so confident. 

You are an incredibly happy child.  This is what strangers comment on the most.  When we go shopping we are stopped every few minutes by people who want to tell me how beautiful you are, what a wonderful smile you have.  That you are the cutest baby they've ever seen.  In restaurants you charm the wait staff and usually end up in their arms before the food even arrives. Yesterday at Trader Joe's I let you sit in the front of the cart (such a big girl thing and you were very excited about it).  As we were standing in line, a woman maybe in her 50s looked over from the line next to us and you bestowed your magical smile on her.  "Thank you!" she said to you.  "You just made my whole week!"  Your favorite part of riding in the cart is when I push you over the bumpy bit between the door and the parking lot.  I thought it would scare you the first time, but you laugh and laugh. 

When I write you these letters I am so aware of all that I’m leaving out.  How much I’ve forgotten already each month.  All those tiny things you do that I’ve already lost track of.  I wish I could hold all of it, each little wonderful moment, but they slip though my fingers so fast. Instead I try to hold on to the cloth of the moments all strung together, the tenor of our days.  It has to be enough.

This year has been an amazing journey and I'm so grateful for it.  I am so grateful for you.  Happy birthday, my little love.