finger thumb

what's on

Here's a bit of what's on around our place these days.

What's on my stove:  Home made ginger beer. Courtesy of Hubs. He's a man on a mission, and despite the fact that over the past couple of years he's made ginger beer a handful of times, he still feels that he hasn't "cracked the code" on the perfect recipe yet. He considers this iteration a disappointment, as he says its neither sweet enough nor fiery enough and didn't ferment very quickly (he's blaming that on acidity and possibly the use of cream of tartar) but I actually really like this batch. Its mellow and subtle. He'll make a few adjustments and try it again (different sugar, less lemon, or maybe no rind this time), and has big plans to try making his own Root Beer or Sasparilla. (I can't say that word with out feeling like Yosemite Sam)

On the tape deck:     I cannot tell you HOW MANY TIMES we listened to Cinderella this week. Suffice it to say, it was a lot! But of course, I took this picture yesterday, and since then he's changed it up to being all Rumplestiltskin, all the time. I asked him what his favourite part of Cinderella was and he said "the hear ye, hear ye, guy". That's the part where the king sends out a decree inviting all the eligible young ladies in the kingdom to the ball. He has a very funny voice, and there is a trumpet blast, and for some reason, L.D. really likes that. His favourite part of Rumplestiltskin is where the Queen tries to guess his name and when she successfully does, he gets so angry that he stamps his foot so hard that it makes a hole in the ground through which he disappears and is never heard from again. We act that out a lot, which is very funny, especially when he wants me to be Rumplestitlskin, and he has to guess names. Because he'll start with a couple of real names "Casper? Bill?" and then move on to place names "Gallilee?" and then just make shit up "Schmoo-Schmo? Blaggle?" Then when he finally shouts "Rumplestitlskin" I have to stomp and spin around and fall to the floor with a howl. And I like to really do it up, because he loves it, but I totally gave myself a headache the other day after, like 7 spin/shout/falls. 

On my needles:   Rock Star Doll. Can you guess which rock star. I'll be impressed if you do, and no, neither Bert nor Ernie are rock stars. I've been enjoying the activity of knitting after all the quilting I've been doing lately, but remembered why I don't generally do a lot of doll/toy knitting. Its so bloody fiddle-y! Its a baby gift for a friend, so I have to see it through, otherwise I'd have abandoned it by now. By the time I'm done I'll bet I could have used the same amount of time and made a sweater. Well, ok, a kid's sweater. Or maybe a scarf. But you know what I mean. 

On my sewing machine:  Another play matt quilt for the baby. But I'm going to make this one thicker, because he needs the extra padding when down on the wood floor in the dining room. He's SO active and while he still can't crawl, he somehow manages to be constantly in motion. He's like a little coiled baby spring of activity. I'm telling you, it sometimes feels like he never stops. Even when I'm feeding him his legs are pumping and he's slowly windmilling his little arms around, pulling his ear, rubbing his head, sticking his fingers into my mouth. Its quite funny. Getting a diaper and sleeper on him after his bath is a full body aerobic workout. Speaking of which....

On the floor:  The world's happiest baby! Such a smiler he is. My sister says he sparkles, and its true, he is positively effervescent. He's just within the past week figured out how to pop himself up really high on his arms like this, and when I get out of his sight line, he turtles his little neck up like this and jacks himself up on his strong little arms to get a look at me, so he can warble and squeal in my direction. I love it. 

On my windowsill:  This sweet little flower in its tiny little cup. The vase is actually a little KLM shot glass that Hubs got at a V.V. once. (I wish I could say we got it on a plane, but its been awhile since we've flown anywhere, especially via KLM) The Little Dude picked me this flower, hence the very short stem. It makes me smile every time I see it, because it's happy and orange and was picked and presented to me with the same nonchalant comfortable love that characterizes my Little Dude so well. I was taking this picture, and actually stopped to clean the window in the background, and was annoyed that there were still spots, even though I did inside and outside the window, so I moved it to the table where I thought it might work better. Then L.D. came along to 'assist' me.

"Don't DRINK it!" I yelped when I realized what was going on as it was snatched out from in front of my lens. He looked at me quizically and said, "I was just smellin' it."

Duh.

dirt

Oh that's why I have so much laundry to do.

Because of all the dirt. And food. And little people who feel that sleeves are the proper place for depositing the results of the daily discovery of the contents of their nostrils.

This kid LOVES dirt. As much as he loves shovels. The two go together so well. Dirt is to shovel as finger is to booger. 

On this particular occasion, I came out of the basement between fetching loads of laundry to find L.D. slowly and purposefully running his hands in a graceful circular motion over the surface of the wet loamy dirt. He looked absolutely blissed out. And he stood up to show me his hands with such a look of pure joy. It took everything I had not to say "Don't you DARE put those dirty hands on my clean laundry mister!" Which of course, he was not even considering, and to have said so would have only been to invite that which I was hoping would not occur. But he was perilously close to my sheets and towels. So I simply asked him to move to a new area of the garden with even more dirt, and all was well. 

Seriously though, to all the mom's reading this, doesn't it seem like all you do is laundry sometimes? Where does it all come from? How is it never, every finished? And why do I seem to have such a hard time putting it away? I have these marathon laundry sessions, where I do, like, five loads, and use every single clothes peg I own and then have to get creative and overlap things it order to get it all out on the line. And then it seems like just a couple of days later, there I am doing it all over again! Though really as far as housework goes, its probably the thing I dislike least. Vacuuming is worse. As is washing floors. And I'm not a huge fan of dishes. Laundry often feels very physical, but in a good way. My laundry room is in the basement, so there are a lot of stairs. Also, my laundry line is just an inch or two too high for me, so the hanging involves a lot of stretching. But in general, as housework goes, I kind of like it. But I do get nostalgic for my pre-baby days of doing laundry just once a week. Ah, those were the days. 

If I can just figure out how to put it all away once its folded. I'm telling you, there were two full laundry baskets of lovely clean clothes that just sat there on my dining room table for, like three days. It was ridiculous. I'll tell you why though, its because of nap time. The only time I actually think to put them away is when everybody is napping, because then I finally have a minute. And of course, then I can't go into any of the bed-rooms where laundry belongs, because little people are sleeping in them. Its very silly. I have to write myself a note and put it on the breakfast table, so that first thing in the morning when they are all awake, I manage to finally get it into the drawers where it all belongs. That's the only way it happens. 

But the big upside of doing the laundry is, not surprisingly, having clean laundry. Tonight every single one of us goes to bed on fresh, clean sheets which is one of the small everyday luxuries that my mother taught me about. As she'd tuck us into the newly made bed on the end of laundry day, smelling like sunshine and clean air and feeling so perfectly smooth and cool, she'd sigh "Ah, fresh, clean sheets. Doesn't that feel good?" And then she'd let the sheet float down onto us and kiss our heads. I remember it fondly still, and in a sweetly pavlovian manner, always sigh and whisper 'fresh, clean sheets' as I go to bed on laundry day. 

And now, as a parent, I sleep even better on laundry day. Because I'm so darn tired. 

But in a good way. 

blerg

Tonight is one of those nights when I just don't feel like blogging. I'm tired. The day was really full. Good, but full. Naps were short and little people were full of energy. Hubs got his cast off this morning, and is now in a splint for the next four to five weeks. So that's better, but he still can't wrangle the baby or change a diaper. But he can scratch his arm which is awesome. And he's totally going to have a Harry Potter scar, just on his elbow. I'll take a pic tomorrow and show you what I mean. 

Oh, and in other interesting small developments, the Little Dude figured out how to use scissors properly today. You know, with just one hand instead of two. He proudly used them to snip spinach out of our garden for dinner salads. 

And at the ripe old age of 5 and a half months, we've stopped swaddling the baby when he sleeps. I'm a big swaddling fan, and bought these great miracle blanket swaddle wraps for him. (totally worth the money) But he is so strong now that even in complete swaddle lock-down mode he can flip completely over, where he struggles and flops and fusses like an angry little grub. So no more swaddle for him. Also, he completely eviscerated an entire peach at dinner tonight (there was nothing but the pit and a puddle of juice left) and half an avocado. And he had a cooked egg yolk for lunch, which he mostly just destroyed, but may also have ingested a bit of it. And when I changed his diaper after nap I found egg yolk in his belly button. It made me laugh out loud, and then he gave me this big grin, as if to say "Oh yeah, I was savin' that for later!"

Right, I'm off to watch the finale of So You Think You Can Dance and do some knitting. There might also be ice cream. See you tomorrow!

eating..

... as opposed to feeding. That's what we are discovering these days. Thanks to a comment from a blog reader (and good friend, hi Isa!) I did a little research into the concept of Baby Led Weaning. (More info here if you are interested, otherwise, just google it.) The upshot is, that you introduce the baby to whole foods (as opposed to pablum or boxed cereal or purées) and let them explore the texture and tastes themselves, allowing them to self-feed as much as possible, and also to decide how much or what they are interested in. Its suggested that babies can deal better with something that has more texture and form to it than the mushy in between formless-ness of purées, and that having food with texture in it helps them learn to chew.

So we've decided to give it a shot. Though I'm doing my usual, all things in moderation approach, and will occasionally help him out with a spoon when need be. He's very cute though, and reaches out and guides the spoon into his own mouth on the occasion that I'm feeding him something a little runnier, (when he likes what's on the end of it). But we do give him whole table food as well. For example, the LOVES to have a nice big chunk of pita bread to gnaw on. And a wedge of watermelon was a big hit too. But only at room temperature. I gave him a fridge cold slice of watermelon the next day and he was having none of it, and kept looking reproachfully up at me as if it was some sort of cruel joke.

But his favourite so far is this:    A lovely ripe peach! I cut a quarter wedge out of it, and leave the skin on half of it, and then just let him go at it. The main problem I've found he has is that food it slippery and he can't keep it in his hands (bananas and avocados are especially hard) so the peach skin makes it easier to grip. It also seems to be an ideal texture, nice and juicy, yet soft enough to sort of gum apart.

And gum he does, very enthusiastically!  And don't worry, I'm always right beside him when he's doing this, because he does gag on occasion, but the gagging is what he's supposed to do. Gagging clears the too-large piece of whatever he's eating up and out of the back of his mouth, letting him know that it needs more gumming. It doesn't seem to deter him. Though it scares the living daylights out of my mother! Poor woman, I think she aged an extra year watching him eat watermelon. 

Another disclaimer, the food we give him is always soft. No crumbly crackers or anything like that. And no obvious choking hazards like grapes or banana slices; nothing windpipe sized. And I do keep a protective hand on the peach once he gets about half-way done. 

Its been really fun so far, to have this slightly more laissez faire approach to his eating. I was much more regimented with the Little Dude; very concerned about introductions and their order, so as not to spark allergies. But as with all things in parenting, the advice from the experts changes every five minutes, and now they say that small exposures to a wide variety of foods makes them less prone to allergies. Of course, we still avoid things that tend to be common allergens (strawberries, nuts etc). In the end, who knows really, and this time around I'm less worried this time that there is one 'right way'.

Though its true, this method is quite messy. (But spoon feeding them is pretty messy too, as I remember from when the Little Dude was a baby)  And there are times when one is not exactly sure how much 'went in'. I should weigh a pita before he gets it, and then sweep up the mess and weigh it again once he's done and see if he's actually eaten any, or just mumbled it to bits like Cookie Monster. Its rather like that actually, only slower. Imagine if Cookie Monster was a zombie who needed cookies. Unrelenting, but effective and messy. That's what its like to watch the baby eat a pita. 

Also, don't be mislead by the term Baby Led Weaning to think that I'm cutting off the milk. I'm still breast feeding him, and probably will continue to for as long as he wants to. So whether the solid food goes into him or not, he's still getting plenty of nutrition from me.

Watching him eat a peach is a bit like seeing a tiny vampire at work. (We call him 'baby wampire', using Anthony Hopkin's pronouciation from the Bram Stoker's Dracula Movie) He basically latches on to the peach and then sucks it to bits. The slurping and single minded focus is hilarious.   And the result is a very happy, sticky little baby. Just look at the carnage. And its only going to get easier soon, because as of today my little boy has just cut his first tooth! Bottom left, in case you are wondering, and sharp as a knife. Its only just through though, and has a bit of a way to go before its really useful. We were all so pleased and proud, especially his big brother (who keeps jabbing his finger into the Baby's mouth to feel the tooth, despite my trying to stop him. He's going to get bitten one of these days! It'd only be fair.) Though I felt a little bitter sweet about it, as it means that time is inexorably moving on, and my baby won't be a baby forever. And soon his big toothless half-moon grin will look, well, toothier! Sigh. But so it goes. 

 

combine

Today's post, both the writing and pictures, are brought to you courtesy of a guest blogger: my Mom. a.k.a. GranGran. 

The stillness of the summer morning was broken as tractors and harvesting equipment made their way down the country road, and I knew that the time had come. Glancing out the window, I saw the combine parked in the field across the road, as the farmer waited for the last dewdrops to dry in the morning sun.

I called to Granpapa, "the combine's here", and he shouted back "Call L.D.'s mom and tell her to have him ready. I'm on my way." And off he went to pick up his Grandson. This was the moment he was waiting for, as the farmer had promised a ride for L.D. in the 'Big Yellow Combine'.

I am not sure who would be more excited, The Little Dude or Granpapa. They share a common interest in and preoccupation with tractors, digger, and all other farm equipment. How that little boy loves tractors and how his Granpapa enjoys sharing that interest with Him!

Soon they were off on the ATV to catch up with the machinery, which would be moving on to a field further back. L.D. has lost his apprenhension towards the ATV (so noisy!), and now expertly and happily climbs on by himself, and with obvious delight rides off with Granpapa.

Grabbing my camera, I walked through the field to catch up with them, quite happy to have some quiet time to enjoy and savour this time of harvest. The hot, sunny days of July had brought the fields of barley to a beautiful bronze/gold ripeness.
And oh! how I love the smells and sounds of summer---- the sun-warmed grass emitting a delightful sweet fragrance; the dusty smell of straw and chaff floating in the air; the call of the crows as they pick up insects in the newly harvested fields; the song of Barn Swallows and Eastern Kingbirds, (click on the links in the bird's names to hear how they sound, BirdJam is the site that I got the from. Great resource) as they sweep through the air; the roar of the combine, the whoosh of the grain as it shoots out of the spout into the waiting wagons. All of these are an integral part of harvest time.
 It was a lovely day of blue summer skies, gauzy wisps of white clouds, and green trees gently swaying in the summer breeze. 

I took a moment to admire the beauty of the grain, each head filled with full kernels, and the efficiency of the combine, as it moved along, harvesting the kernels, and leaving behind a cloud of chaff and dust. How different from harvest time of the farm when I was a child, and my father drove the binder, pulled by two horses, cutting the grain, and dropping sheaves behind the binder; sheaves that would have to be picked up by hand and formed into stooks that stood in the field until they were brought in on wagons to be fed into the maw of the threshing machine.
Harvest then was a heavy, manual labour, that consumed much of the farmer's time -- but I am confident that my Father's delight in a good harvest was not less than that of farmers today. 

L.D. watched with both interest and concern as the huge combine maneuvered it's way down a narrow path to enter the field behind the one I had traversed. The men removed some branches and shrubs to widen the entrance, and so the noise of the chain saw rent the air; a noise that caused him to cover his ears. 

While they waited for the combine to make it's first round, Granpapa hoisted L.D. onto his shoulders.
That is one of my favourite pictures -- L.D. and his Grandfather in the fields together, hand in hand or perched on his still-strong shoulders. 

Then came the magic moment, when the combine stopped and they climbed up those high steps, which I'm sure looked waaaaaaayyyy up to a little guy.
And off they went, for a glorious ride around the filed. To top it off, they got to ride back in the blue tractor... 
...which was pulling the grain wagon beside the combine...
...catching the harvested grain that poured out of the spout.
A good morning for all, and then GranGran joined them on the ATV for a ride home.
A wonderful summer's day!

fun sewing

My niece came to visit for the weekend; stayed overnights at my parent's place, but we got to spend a lot of our day time together since the Little Dude adores her and vice versa. She's eleven years old, and very thoughtful for her age, and had remarked to my mother that, since I now have a new baby, we probably wouldn't have time to do the sort of things we used to, like sewing or crafts. Which was so astute of her, to notice the difference in my work load. Kids don't often see those things, and don't always adjust their expectations. So of course, I wanted to be sure that we did get some good sewing time in. We so seldom get to see each other on 'non-holiday' times, and those birthday/holiday weekends are usually packed with events and dinners from start to finish. So I really cherish the time I get with my nieces and nephew when we can hang out in a non-scheduled way. And of course, its lovely to make something together. 

We really only had nap time, and perhaps a bit more of the afternoon, so we decided to try and crack out a book bag for her back to school supplies. We didn't have a pattern, but just started by picking out a fun stack of fabrics. I suggested that we foundation piece the front and back, and just freehand cut the strips so that it'd have a nice 'wonky' feeling. Its nice to work that way, and quicker too, not a lot of measuring. And the sewing doesn't have to be precise either as the ironing kind of makes up for it if its a little off. 

Its so nice to see her getting more and more confident with the machine too. She's just careful enough as well; I'm never really worried that she's going to sew over her fingers. 

We worked like crazy, tag teaming the work, and piecing the front and the back at the same time. I'd pin one pice while she sewed the other and then she'd iron the seams open while I'd do a bit of sewing. It was a very companionable way to work. And everything came together so nicely. There were no big measuring catastrophes, and as luck would have it, I had just the right coulour of strapping to make the handles. In just over three and a half hours we had our bag done!  We also decided to piece the front and the back differently so that they don't match, but it makes for more variety. We didn't even end up using all the fabrics we'd picked out. But I'm very happy with the effect. 

And best of all, my niece is very pleased with it. Nothing warms my heart more than to see how proud and satisfied she is with something that she's made herself. I know I have a limited number of years for joint sewing projects, before she's too grown up and busy with her own life, and has jobs and boyfriends and summer-time travel. So I'm enjoying the time and the work together while it's still here. And I love knowing that sewn into that bag is the memory of an afternoon of stitching and ironing together, in between playing with babies and toddlers. 

garden

After last years dubious 'success' with squash we decided to scale back our gardening efforts this time. After all, I have another little body to take care of and more diapers to wash and less sleep, so a big garden did not seem prudent. Also, have I mentioned my stance on weeding? It is ambivalent at best. (Stop that guffawing, Dad, I can hear you from here.)

So here is this year's garden:  Well, half of it at least. This is the plot that is inside of the little fenced off play area that the Little Dude gets up to his sandbox shenanigans in. Also, its right next to my laundry line, so its the bit that gets tended to the most. I weed it (half-heartedly) in between hanging out loads of laundry, and the Little Dude loves to water it, if given the chance. And he ONLY gets the chance when there is no laundry on the line. Because he's a bit overzealous. He loves to help me with the garden. Anything involving dirt and shovels is right up his alley. I think it must skip a generation.

This garden is mostly herbs and salad-y things.     A nice little bit of basil, both Italian and Thai varieties. 

A good whack of Arugula, because I love Arugula salads, but its very expensive at the store and comes in one of those stupid big plastic containers that you can't recycle. It tastes very good despite the fact that something is eating little round holes all through it. Annoying, but still edible. (Any tips, you gardeners out there? Caroline, I'm looking at you.)

And the spinach is doing very well. And it also makes me happy not to buy it, and its accompanying big stupid, plastic non-recyclable container. I gave it a really good harvest the other day.

See that, cut it back considerably. And only two days later its come back up quite a bit. I expect we'll get a number of nice harvests out of it. These two baskets were about a half a pounds worth. Enough to make a nice Egg and Feta Phyllo Pie. Yummy. 

Oh, and Hubs also planted some radishes, just because the seeds were 25 cents a packet, and they grew, sure enough, but the problem is, they taste terrible. I'm pretty sure I hate radishes. Nasty, peppery, good for nothing vegetable. Unless I just don't know how to prepare them properly. Again, if you have any recipes or tips, let me know. 

But best of all was my discovery with the Little Dude today.  Our first two ripe tomatoes! See, we don't suck as gardeners after all! They are from the other bed, just outside our play/laundry area, that doesn't get quite as much care and weeding. It has some tomatoes, dill, lovage, raspberries, rhubarb and watermelon. Most of which I fully expected to fail. Except the dill. An idiot could grow dill. You practically have to fight dill off after a point, it quite takes over. I've never grown watermelon  in my life, but L.D. insisted that we would grow watermelon in our garden and he's told us so, so many times, that it seemed a fait accompli, and we decided not to argue with him. 

Hm, I just read that all over and it sounds terribly British. I'll tell you why, its because we spent the evening watching two episodes of Downton Abbey, and it was frightfully good. But now I'm going to talk with an affected British accent for the next two days at the least. Pity. Either way, I recommend it. Can't wait to watch more. Its splendid so far. 

rainy day

We've been having that crazy Ontario Summer weather around here lately; blistering hot, but with the occasional rainy day. And those rainy days are nothing to sneeze at. When they are not full-on dramatic thunder storms, they are consistent heavy downpours. But that's the kind of rain I like best. None of your misty drizzles for me, I like the coming-straight-down-in-sheets, soaked-to-the-skin kind of rain. We had such a one the other day, and then I LOVE getting the Little Dude suited up and taking him out for a walk in the rain.
After all, kids are not like adults. They don't worry about their clothes or their hair. And they adore getting wet. So its this awesome counter-intuitive adventure that we get to go on together. It reminds me of how my parents used to wake us up to see the full moon over a fresh heavy snow fall, or how they got us out of bed one time to lay outside in sleeping bags and watch the Northern Lights. It was such a special treat, and felt thrilling, because it was the opposite of what you were supposed to do (that is, stay inside and sleeping). I hope the Little Dude remembers our rain walks the same way I remember those events from my childhood. 

Anyhow, he's all about the umbrella these days, and LOVES to hold it himself, which of course makes it a little difficult for me to shelter under it. But he's pretty good about letting me have a turn at holding it when we walk a little further from home. 

In this instance, despite the fact that the mosquitos around here are absolutely viscous, we could not resist the lure of the shining green canopy of the forest. And we decided to go for a longer walk, instead of our usual saunter around the lawn. 

I'm trying, these days, to parent a little more in the present. There are so many, many things to do when you are the parent of little ones, and the duties and chores can get very monotonous. And I, in my Type A frenzy to 'get things done' can often forget why I am doing those things. And the why is more of a who really. I am doing all these small, forgettable, mundane tasks of nose wiping, food making, clothing cleaning so that my family can putter along, so that the boys can be nourished and grow up and wear clean clothes and have snot free faces (please God, just for a few weeks, no snot?) and live their lives and so that all of us, together can discover who we are, and what our purpose is. 

I know, rather grand thoughts for a rainy day. But among all the other chores this week, I've been trying to get on top of my photos and organize and back up and print out an entire year's worth of pictures. And it strikes me, as I comb through the files from exactly one year ago, how cyclical our lives are (very similar pictures of similar summer events) and yet how quickly our lives change. The Little Dude was SO DIFFERENT a year ago. His language was so much less developed. He still had such a baby face, and chubby little body. How much he has grown since then! How much I've forgotten. 

So it just really brings home the fact that I need to stop. Just for a moment, at least once a day. And really, really drink it all in. All the new developments, all the little things, the nuances, the smells and feelings of here and now. The way that the Baby's head rests on my hand when I put him down for a nap. The way that L.D's arm winds around my neck just one last time as I tuck him in. Just the way it is right now because next year, it will all be different. And I don't want to miss any of it. 

vocab

What was your favourite subject in grade school? You know, back when they were called 'subjects', not 'classes' or 'courses'. Of course, I loved Art, but I'd have to say that my close second was Vocabulary. Oh, how I loved Vocab! I loved learning new words, writing up lists, and taking the quizes, matching the definitions with the words. I especially liked these little didactic tools we had (I don't know what they were called exactly) where you read a story and learned the new vocabulary in context. I was such a word nerd. Voted "Most Likely to Read the Dictionary" when I graduated from Grade 8. And that was a pretty accurate assessment. 

Not much has changed.  This is my latest Vocab list. When I read a book that has some good challenging vocabulary, I keep a blank piece of paper as my book mark, and then jot down the words I am unfamiliar with, so I can look them up later. Sometimes they are words I've never heard before, and sometimes they are words that I get the gist of, but don't know the actual definition. For instance, I believe "besom" is a disparaging term for an elderly female, and the context would confirm that, but that's only a vague definition. Specifically it is "A broom made out of twigs tied around a stick." And for some reason, it is a put down for old ladies. Because of witch associations maybe? If I had another thee or four spare years laying around to put towards another degree, I'd love to study Etymology.  

Its funny what kind of reading doesn't turn up any words I don't know, and what kind does. For example, A.S. Byatt is a great author for obscure words. You should have seen the list I had after reading The Children's Book. Also, anything written before the mid-century often seems to have a lot of good, obscure words. Though the 1920's slang in Brideshead Revisited drove me nuts, because it often was not in dictionaries.

Anyhow, I now need to sit down and look all these up. When I have a few spare minutes; you know how it goes. And then I need to try and remember the definitions and work them into conversation. Because I know I've looked up some of these before, and they just haven't stuck. After all, its somewhat ironic that I've had to look up "perspicacious" more than once. 

So how 'bout you? How many of these could you define without looking them up? And what's a good, juicy word you learned recently?

ps: 'Eldritch' would be a great name for a skinny cat. 

solid

Guess what we did for the first time yesterday. (And by 'we', I mean the Baby, so you know, the Royal 'we'.)  We had our first solid food. And by solid, I mean of course, very, very runny. But whatever, we had our first non-breast milk meal! Oh, well, ok, it was rice cereal mixed with breast milk, but still. It's not like you start them with steak like they used to in the good old days.

And could this kid be any cuter, sitting up in his high chair and everything? 

His big brother, aka, the Little Dude decided he was going to help (oh, I get so much 'help' these days. It really is delightful.) and I'm not sure exactly what was being accomplished here. We don't usually go in for a laying on of hands before the midday meal, but whatever, who doesn't need a little extra blessing. Either that or he's rubbing his head for good luck. 

I think the Baby would have been happy just to sit in his new chair, whether or not we actually presented him with food. Actually, its a rather old chair, something that a friend of my mom's had in her kitchen for when her grandbabies came to visit and then gave to my mom when we moved here, and somehow its just stuck with us. Its probably from the 80's and while pastel plastic is not my favourite, it sure has come in handy. 

I really love how this first feeding was such a family event. Hubs was documenting, I was administering the spoonage, and L.D. was encouraging from the sidelines. I adore his face in this picture as he watches his little brother. I always try to be aware of the potential for sibling rivalry, so whenever we are lavishing the New Baby with attention, I try to check in with the Little Dude, even if its just to glance over and check out his mood. And I'm happy to say that he often has this soft smile on his face and seems to be enjoying the Baby's reactions to the love and attention rather than feeling jealous of it. So far at least. I know the whole game will change the first time the Baby makes a grab for his Digger. Then he's going to be all "Oh no you di'int!".

L.D. also did his best to model appropriate spoon usage to the Baby. Much appreciated...

...as the baby could not get enough of that spoon! It seemed that his sole intention was to get control of it and then jam it down his poor little throat as far as possible. There was a fair bit of gagging, but no throwing up. 

And he seemed to like the food too. He was very eager, and the look of concentration on his face, as he negotiated the gloppy deliciousness was hilarious to watch. And as soon as one spoonful had been ruminated over thoroughly enough, he was bobbing his head around, looking for the next one. 

Anything left in that bowl?

Let me just check.

Good times Mom, when do we do it again?