Christmas Photos Part 2

Christmas Eve was peaceful and lovely. . . . once Elliot went to bed.

I think we made pizzas.  This may be contrary to what I wrote in my previous description of Christmas Eve.  But I think we made pizzas.

This is my favorite photo.  I don't really know why.

What's new with Elliot?  He is toddling all over the house, being adorable and loveable.  He sits in his high chair, crinkles his eyes and rolls his head onto one shoulder as he eats his food.  He does this when he is particularly overcome by the tastiness of some morsel.  

He’s doing a lot of pointing at things.  He has this weird way of pointing: he extends his arm out straight, but then he turns his wrist, rotates it like he’s taking a glass of water and dumping it on the floor. And he holds his hand in that position, fingers splayed.  To him that’s how he points at anything he wants: a cup, some food, whatever.  The concept of pointing a finger has not arrived yet.  Sometimes he goes even farther, rotating at the elbow, twisting the whole arm around, even pushing his shoulder into it, so that it looks like someone is grabbing his arm to do one of those indian rubs, or is about to put him in a half nelson.  Like that scene at the end of Back to the Future, where Biff grabs McFly’s arm.  That’s the position Elliot likes to put him arm in.  Weird, right?

Christmas photos

I told you I would get around to posting them.  We start on Xmas eve (the day I arrived), with a nice simple bare tree.  

Since it was Elliot's first real Christmas tree, we made sure to include him.

He liked the ornaments, but the concept of hanging them on tree did not come naturally.  It is kind of weird tradition.

And of course this had to happen...

Some Grandma Time

We started cat-sitting for Irina again.  What sounds like someone striking a match is actually Ding-Dong doing her biznass in her litter box.  And what sounds like Hannah gagging is. . . . Hannah gagging. 

Elliot got sick recently.  January 10, 2012 was probably the toughest single night for us since Elliot was born. 

Elliot breastfed when he was a newborn, which meant he got Hannah’s immune system, which meant during his first winter he didn’t get sick at all, not even once.  

But now he’s off the boob.  It’s his second winter, and he’s riding on his own immune system.  And every day we take him to daycare, which is a small room packed with bacteria and also a few infants.  You can practically see the illness particles spinning through the air (although most of the time they don’t have to travel by air: I watched one kid smear his mucus on another’s cheek.)

So Elliot is enduring his first serious illness.  For about a week he was vomiting (see previous post), and a couple days ago it moved to his throat.  At first I thought this might be better --- or at least less wet and sticky.  But it turns that vomiting for an infant is fairly painless, and over within seconds.  Whereas coughing hurts like hell and goes on the entire night.  

On January 10, 2012, I went out and played volleyball, and didn’t get home until after 11pm.  Hannah had been with Elliot alone for nearly 4 hours and was going crazy.  I found them in our bed together, Elliot completely awake.

It was definitely my turn to be First Parent. I took him into his room and fed him a bottle.  He calmed down, closed his eyes.  But I was stuck sitting up in a chair.  So I tried to transfer him to the crib, but he immediately woke up and started screaming for me.  And the screaming of a sick child is not something you are prepared to sit awake and listen to.  I didn’t fight it, I just picked him up and sat back down in that chair. 

So now I’m stuck in the chair. Elliot is semi-comfortable, coughing occasionally and waking up to cry, but then falling back asleep quickly.

I sit there for an hour.  I come up with a plan.  Elliot is sprawled out across my thighs.   If I can maneuver us to the couch, then I can be horizontal enough to sleep.  Elliot would be in the same position, and have the same contact with my body, so he could sleep too.  Everyone’s happy. 

I put him in the crib, and as he starts to cry I quickly run out and arrange the couch for my plan.  I refill his bottle, then run back in and get him.  I settle us on the couch in the position I had chosen, and get ready for a night of comfort and bliss. 

[hold for laughter] 

Let me see, how long has it been since I slept with a baby resting on my abdomen?  I think the last time was. . . . never?  Is that right?  Never?  

Yes, that’s right.  

I’m not sure why I thought this was such a great plan. Elliot did sleep pretty well, but I was miserable.  

Hannah woke up around 2am and told me to knock it off.  Bring him into bed, or put him in the crib and we’ll take turns comforting him.  I refused. 

Somewhere around 4am I gave up an brought him into bed with us.  He slept more or less peacefully until 7am. . . . and who needs more than 3 hours sleep each night?

In which the young gentleman began to understand the concept of the camcorder:

Sneak Preview

More Christmas photos when I have time, but here's a tantalizing peek:

This was at brunch last Sunday.  There was a bike on the back patio:

Sorry for the shaky camera work.  Apparently one of us had too many mimosas.  

Blueberries and the Femmes

Upon review, I realize it's impossible to hear the songs Elliot is dancing to.  So here it is:  Violent Femmes's "Add It Up" for the first half of the video.  Then a pause, and Tracy Chapman's "Give Me One Reason"

More photos and videos soon, I promise.  As soon as I have the patience to sit there while the little effers upload....

Meanwhile, here's a NYT article about the famous family cello of Nick and Elena Delbanco, with whom we had a lovely dinner with in Ann Arbor a few weeks back.

Vomit

On the day after New Years, Elliot got sick.

I remember the day exactly, because it was supposed to be Hannah's day off.  The daycare was open, but her work was not.  So she got a day to herself.  And she was excited about it.

But around 8 in the morning, on that day after New Years, Elliot threw up.  It was a small one, so she kept preparing him for daycare: the jacket, the baby backpack, etc. Then on the way to daycare, he barfed again.  

So -- to her inestimable credit -- she turned around and took him home.  On her one day off.  And took care of him all day while he vomited all over her.

I didn't really understand how serious this was until a few days later, when he vomited on me while I was trying to put him to sleep.  It's a terrifying experience.

In my case, Elliot was in my arms in the darkened room where he sleeps, and I had given him a far-too-full bottle of rice milk.  He chugged the whole thing down, and since his eyes were closed I stupidly just slapped him on his belly in his crib.  After a few seconds, he coughed once and sprayed a little squirt of vomit on the mattress.  The room began to smell of almonds.

I quickly picked him up, but it was too late.  As I held him against me, he sprayed a viscous white liquid across my shirt and pants.  It spattered onto my forearms, my hands, flecks of it on my neck and biceps.  It seemed for one horrible second like he was emptying out all the fluid in his little body.  I had the irrational impulse to clap my hand over his mouth, so that he would keep some liquid inside him.

Hannah tells me I screamed.  I remember it as a calm "Can I get some help here?" spoken through a crack in the door.  But even now I can remember the hint of panic that was creeping into my voice toward the end of the sentence: "Can I get, some, Help, IN, HERE?"

He got better.  Slowly.  As I write this, over a week later, he is still fussy and not sleeping well.  I'm sitting on the couch, listening to him cough.  It sounds wet and awful, but so far he's still asleep.

If he wakes up and cries, I'm going to go in and perch my bony butt on the diaper bin and rub my hand across his back.  And rub and rub and rub.  It has nothing to do with his lungs or his stomach, but I'm going to do it anyway.

Sleep conundrum

A weird thing happened over Christmas.  Hannah went out to Michigan before me, and for two days was there alone with Elliot.  And during that time he slept through the night without waking up once.

On the same night I arrived in Michigan, Elliot woke up and cried and had to be comforted back to sleep.  I was there for four nights, and each night he woke up and cried.

We explained it to ourselves thusly:  when he arrived in the new place, he was duly freaked out and withdrew.  The routine had changed, and he didn't think he could get parental comfort in the wee hours, so he didn't try.  But eventually he realized that the rules were the same, so he started asking for us again.

But here's the weird part:  I left Michigan before Hannah, so Elliot again had a few days there alone with her.  On the same day I left Michigan, he slept through the night without waking up.  And the same happened for three nights in a row before they came back to New York?

So the question is:  what is it about my presence that makes Elliot cry?

Hannah has found all kinds of nice ways of answering that question.  Like:  He's just so excited to have you around that he can't sleep.

Isn't she sweet?

The data is also confounded by the fact that he's been sick lately.  Just after New Years he was vomiting, and now he's just got a nasty cough.  Either way, he hasn't been sleeping through the night, but I'm not sure it has to do with my presence or absence.  When he returns to full health, we will find out just how much of a jinx I am.

Nothing to See Here

Object Permanence

The term “object permanence” has, as far as I can tell, completed its transition from academic literature to lay usage.  Maybe that’s just because I live in Brooklyn, a stone’s throw from Park Slope, where minoring in developmental psychology is considered a parenthood prerequisite.

Regardless, I’ve discovered that I can hang out with other parents and crack jokes like “I can steal things from Elliot because he doesn’t have object permanence,” and they seem to get it.  Are they just faking?  Again, I live in Brooklyn, so it’s hard to say.  But at least as many Brooklynites would tell me where to shove it as would fake laugh.

Elliot has had basic object permanence for a while.  Since about 9 months we started playing peek-a-boo, and this has evolved into his favorite game.  It gets old (for him) after about 20 peek-a-boos, but with a five-minute break he’s ready to go again.  

(Don’t ask how quickly it gets boring for me. Hannah and I just watched the latest special from the comedian Louis CK.  At one point he talks about how he explained to his daughter that he had to end a board game halfway through: “I’m sorry honey, I love you, but I love you less than I am bored.”)

But in the past few weeks Elliot seems to have developed what I have decided to call advanced object permanence.

Here’s what happened when Elliot played with toys:  at age three months, you could take it away and he thought it ceased to exist.  At 9 months, you could take it away and he knew it still existed but he didn’t care.  He just started hunting around for another toy to play with.  Now, at 15 months, he knows the toy exists, he knows it’s in your hand, and he will throw a temper tantrum for 2-5 seconds to try to get it back.  This morning he clenched every muscle in his body at the same time and nearly flipped himself out of my arms.  He screamed for a second, and then a second he was completely fine.

We’re on a trajectory here, and I can see where it leads: the terrible twos.  I can see the nascent temper tantrums starting to burble up beneath his generally perfect personality.  It’s like being in a car crash: there’s a moment when you can see exactly what’s about to happen but you can do nothing to stop it.  

Is there anything I can do to stop it?  Please advise. 

Learning to Eat

It ain't easy.  But it is fun.

Elliot's getting bigger.  He is very strong.

Right now I can still lift him up, pin him down, force him into clothes, yank him out of jackets.  But it won't be long before my feeble biceps are unable to match his thigh and back muscles.

Which got me to wondering.  We think of mental and physical development as two parallel processes.  Muscle mass grows, and brain size grows, but they don't really have much to do with each other. Or do they?

Imagine an alternate universe, in which physical development proceeds normally, but brain development takes ten times as long (given the complexity of the brain, this isn't that implausible).

What would we end up with?  Kids who weigh 70 pounds but without the language skills to be reasoned with.  Kids able to punch you hard enough to break your nose, but without any impulse control.  Sounds like chaos. Not the best for the propagation of the species.

Back in our own universe, it starts to seem like maybe there is a connection between brain and physical development.  Maybe Darwinism doesn't allow a child to get so big that he can hurt himself until his brain is functional enough to handle the size.

Which means Elliot ought to be speaking fluent English any day now.

Koda / Coda

We had brunch with Deb and Marionetta on the 26th, and they brought their adorable standard poodle.  I asked Hannah and Ed how to spell his name and got two different versions.  I guess it's my fault for asking more than one person.

Elliot was fascinated.  And now that he can walk, he can get up in a dog's business like never before. Eye-poking, fur-grabbing.  So Koda/Coda wasn't thrilled with him.  But he's a great dog, very mellow, and all he gave Elliot were a few muffled warning ruffs.

And he knows how to use them

Learning to Use a Spoon Pt 4

All right, I'm tired of chopping up these videos and commenting on them.  If you want to watch me play with Elliot for another 3 minutes, go crazy.  

Happy New Year!

Learning to Use a Spoon Pt 3

A short summary of Christmas in Ann Arbor

It was the five of us again this year.  Five and a half if you include Elliot.  Last year each of us (me, Hannah, Anna, Kate, and Ed) made the point of a star out of plasticine (remember that stuff?)  The plan was to bake them into a singe five-point star.  Lovely idea right?  A year later the five triangles are still on our kitchen counter.  They look nice there.

On Christmas Eve we read A Child's Christmas in Wales out loud together. It's a family tradition of Anna's, a really beautiful one I must say.  "A boy the spit of myself, with a pink-tipped cigarette and the violet past of a black eye."

Woke up Christmas morning and came downstairs.  Elliot cried us awake at the normal time, he didn't seem to have any Christmas anxiety.  He had to eat, and then we did, and then a few stockings, and then a break, so full-blown present-opening didn't start til lunchtime, nearly.

I got a sweet guitar from Hannah's parents, which I am very excited about.  I haven't had a chance to noodle on the guitar for a long time.  Will have to dig out my old journals, where I wrote down the chords to all the songs I taught myself busking in Munich.

I got a great pocket-video camera (Flip, for those in the market) from Hannah, as well as a find-your-keys device that will be desperately useful at desperate moments.  The West family is good at gift-giving.  Hopefully it's a skill I will pick up.

Christmas afternoon we walked in the freezing cold to the playground, and put Elliot in the swing.

He did much better than the last time we went to the playground.  Which was, now that I think of it, on Thanksgiving Day.

The next day we mostly hung out.  Had a casual brunch with Deb and Marionetta.  The Ferguson family persimmon pudding was featured, and was very well received.  I made lemon sauce for it.  Worked on a puzzle of Hopper's Nighthawks.

That night we made pizza, one of which was loaded with bacon.  I mean loaded. I put so much bacon on it it was ridiculous.  Like 6 strips.  By the end, I had to search for places to drop a bacon bit where it wouldn't touch another bacon bit.

On the 27th it snowed!  Big puffy flakes.  I took Elliot out in it, a walk to the playground again, but he didn't come out of the carrier this time.

We had a really nice dinner with friends of Kate and Ed.  Nick Delbanco used to run the writing program at UMich, and his wife Elena is in the public policy program.  Also Lou and Margaret, a sculptor/painter couple with a ten year-old daughter Sadie.  (We did not mention that we used to have a dog named Sadie)

One highlight of the evening was the story of how Nick became a writer.  When he was a teenager he had the privilege of meeting a famous writer couple who pulled up in a chauffeur-driven limo.  Their first book, Raffi the Giraffe, went nowhere, and then they wrote Pretzel the Dog, which went a few more places, and then Curious George, which went a lot of places.  And Nick decided that if you could write books and ride in a limo, that was the profession for him.

I left too early.  Now I'm puttering around New York, missing Hannah and Elliot.  They're back tomorrow!

Learning to Use a Spoon, Pt. 2

It's a slow process.  Not always interesting to watch.

Learning to Use a Spoon

This is from before Xmas.  In case it's not clear, I just left the camera on the table and went into the kitchen to make breakfast with Hannah.  Judge me. 

Sleep

He lies on his side and makes circles on the mattress with his hand.  Have I written about this already?  When he is trying to fall asleep, he makes circles.  On the mattress. This is hard to describe well.

He lies on his side, and begins with his free arm down by his waist.  Then, keeping the arm perfectly straight, he rotates it up toward his head, tracing a circle.   I think this is comforting to him.  Then he draws his hand down along his body until it is by his waist again, and the cycle repeats.

Stories about adventures in sleep could suck up the entire output of this blog.  But one particularly enraging  story occurred while we were visiting Aaron and Daria over Thanksgiving.

We brought a Pack'n'Play, which is like a fold-up crib, and the night before Thanksgiving he went to sleep in it without a problem.  But at 2am he woke up, scared at his unfamiliar surroundings, and started to cry.

I got up, changed his diaper, and fed him a bottle.  He slowly closed his eyes.  At that time of night minutes seem like hours--- about a day later he was sleeping peacefully in my arms.

I stood and moved him to the Pack'n'Play. He barely stirred.  I laid him down on the mattress (typically the most dangerous moment for reawakening) and he lay still.  Success was mine, it seemed.

And then, in his sleep, he kicked his little leg and his plastic PJ sole scraped against the nylon mesh of the Pack'n'Play wall.  It made a loud rrrrrr-rrrrrrr-rrrrrrrr noise, and I saw his head twitch.

But he was still pretty much asleep.  If I could prevent another incident he would drift back into slumber.  I kept my hand protectively between the crib wall and his foot.

RRRRR-RRRRR-RRRRRR!

I looked and saw that he'd kicked his other foot.  This was a tiny crib and both were in striking distance of the damned nylon mesh.

And now he was definitely awake.  He lifted his head, wondering what he'd heard.

I'll spare you the details of the next twenty minutes.  The short version is I failed to get him back to sleep and fumed for hours about how close I'd been.

Story time

Merry Christmas! We are in Ann Arbor having an awesome time. Peace and love to all

Gravity

Elliot has a beautiful set of brightly colored blocks, given to him on his birthday by Emily and Gerald.  We were playing with these recently, and he picked up a small cardboard box that had previously held a pair of earrings.  Together we discovered that one of the colored blocks fit perfectly inside the small cardboard box.  The fit was so tight that it was impossible to pull the block out with your fingers. 

So I showed Elliot how to tip over the box and slide the block out.  He was fascinated.  I repeated the motion: put the block inside the box, rotatate your wrist until it’s upside down and the block comes out.  Then I gave it to him.  He did just as I had, turning it upside down to dump the block out. 

Yay!  I thought.  He understands gravity.   

I reset the device: took the box from him, put the block in it, and gave it back.  He tipped it again, but not quite far enough to let the block slide out.  He waited there, watching the opening of the box intently.  Then he tipped the box upright and stared at the opening, mystified.  Again he turned the box to the side, again not far enough to slide the block out.  Then he got bored and crawled over to play his mini-piano. 

I realized I had misinterpreted his actions.  I thought when he flipped the box upside down, he understood the principles at work.  But to Elliot, there was no larger principle, just a simple rule:  flip box and block will emerge.  As far as he knew, the rule applied only to this box and this block.  A larger theory of gravity was not implicated here. 

Which got me thinking about this notion of gravity.  It seems so fundamental, so deeply woven into our understanding of the universe, that there could never have been a time when we didn’t understand it.  Like saying that there was a time we didn’t know how to breathe, or poop. 

But watch a baby in a high chair, throwing objects over the edge and then peering down after them.  What are they doing but experimenting with gravity?  They're saying, Does it work every time I throw it?  Does it work with every object?  Does anything ever go up?

I tried to do some research into when babies understand gravity.  The academic literature is in flux:  conventional understanding is around a year.  But some researchers argue that humans are born with an understanding of physics, and they have some studies suggesting we understand gravity at 4 months. 

To me, there seems to be a fairly obvious way to tell.  A baby understands gravity when he stops chucking spoons off his highchair and watching them fall.  

Update

I've been severely reprimanded by a close family member for not posting an update:  Elliot is walking.

In my own defense, I did post something last month saying that he took his first steps.  But he was still mostly crawling then.

Actually, he's still mostly crawling now.  It's his preferred mode of transport.  But rather than the two little stutter-steps that we counted as his "first steps," Elliot can now walk across the living room.  And instead of walking only when we prop him up and cajole him, now he's doing it without anyone looking.

I really should be more aggressive at getting some of this on film.  I've posted a billion videos of Elliot sitting doing nothing, but haven't taken the time to capture him walking.  I will try to do better.

Elliot's hot new girlfriend

 Actually, they haven't seen each other for a while now, so the romance may have cooled. 

June and Elliot are uniquely connected: she is the daughter of the man who put the final seal of approval on Elliot's name.  Susan and Elliot were co-classmates in our childbirth education class--- we had already been considering the name, and when we met adult-Elliot we figured his combination of coolness and likability was a sign.  And the rest is history....

More Cat Manipulation

As I mention in this video, this may be the moment Elliot realized he liked being in control. 

Hot Kid in the City

You know, hanging out in front of the Brooklyn Museum, like the cool one year-olds do.  Checking out the scene. 

That last photo reminds me so much of Aaron I can barely stand it.

Elliot and the cat

I think I mentioned earlier that we cat-sat for our friend Irina over the Thanksgiving holiday.  It was awesome, Ding Dong (yes, her name is Ding Dong, don't make me write it again) is the snuggliest cat you ever met.  She does wake you up in the middle of the night with her love and affection...but I've been known to do that myself. 

One of my favorite Elliot moments of all time happens in the first five seconds of this video.  Watch closely, don't blink. 

Not to ruin the adorableness of that last video, but Ding Dong killed a mouse for us, while we watched.  I sh!t you not.  I had to leave for work before the grisly finale, but Hannah tells me that by the end the mouse was just walking up to Ding Dong and resting its head against her mouth.  Cats are sickos. 

Eating seaweed by the dishwasher

There is really nothing to see in this video.  I just think Elliot is adorable even when he's doing nothing.

Be child-like.  I used to hear that phrase and it kind of glanced off me.  Yeah right, be child-like.

But now I get it.  It's so easy.  And so hard. 

Forgiveness, for example.  Elliot is great at forgiveness.  He will scream at us for hours in the middle of the night, but have no problem cuddling and laughing with us in the morning. 

The facile response is, "he just forgot about that."  But infants have great memories.  Elliot will go a week or more without seeing our camera, but when he does see it he'll lunge for it.

The truth is that he can be lonely and desperate in his crib at night, scream for us and hate us for abandoning him.  And in the morning he can forgive us.

We dismiss this as, um,  infantile.  We think it immature not to hold grudges, not to stew and mutter about slights against us, not to steep oneself in the bitter juices of resentment at every opportunity. 

Think of how the world would be if we all had the capacity for forgiveness of a one year-old.  

mylar is baby catnip

Correction:  A previous version of this video was labeled as occurring one month in the future.  The video was not filmed in the future.  It was filmed in the past.  The same applies to all videos posted on this blog.  The management apologizes for any confusion.  

He likes to read

Or at least he enjoys flipping pages...

Trip to the botanical garden

We go there about once a week, but usually forget to bring the camera.  So the one time we did remember, we got a little photo-crazy....

Emily and Jesse

Visits with these two always produce quirky photos...

Updates

Lately Elliot has been showing me his O face.  

(If you just went “ewwww” then I'm guessing you were born between 1970 and 1995.)

He purses his lips into a tight O and raises his eyebrows.  It's freaking adorable.  We have no idea where he learned it, but he’s been doing it all the time.

The expression seems to express surprise, shock, wonderment.  But I’m not sure he’s using it that way.  He usually makes the O face when I scold him, tell him no.  A few months ago, when I scolded him, he would respond with this ugly half-smile, like he was trying to be cute and failing.  

For the past few months we've been letting him stand in front of the open refrigerator door.  Naturally he wants to grab stuff.  But we’ve been telling him No, and amazingly it works.  Now he just stands there and looks.  Sometimes he pokes out a little mealworm finger and touches the tupperwares and cartons of eggs.  Sometimes you can see a rising urge to grab: he unfurls all five fingers and moves his hand forward a few inches.  Then he stops and looks to see if we're watching.  Which we are.  And we congratulate him for his restraint.

He took his first steps on (I think) November 18.  The number of steps was two, and the stride length was between one and two inches.  Still, we're counting it.  He hasn’t exactly exploded into walking, he still prefers crawling.  BUt he’s getting there. 

We are cat sitting for our friend Irina this week.  At first, Elliot had a little trouble restraining his desire to poke the cat in the eye.  But with a little encouragement (I say the word “gentle” more than any other now when I’m around Elliot) he’s no longer doing that.  Now he just slaps at her back.  Which is closer to petting than poking the eyes was.  So we’re counting that a success.  

To Ding Dong’s credit (did I mention the cat’s name is Ding Dong?) she has not given Elliot the cold shoulder.  In fact, this morning she walked past him and rubbed against him while he was sitting drinking a bottle.

The problem is that cats have only one setting when it comes to rubbing against you.  They rub against a 200lb adult with the same force as a 26lb infant.  So Elliot has almost been knocked over a few times.  Which he finds irritating, as anyone would.

Ding Dong

I think I mentioned earlier that we've been cat-sitting for a friend.  This is a pretty awesome video:

First trip to the playground

This was in Mt. Rainier over Thanksgiving.  Elliot had just woken up so we thought he would be energetic.  But you know how sometimes you get real logy after a nap?  That was Elliot. 

But he eventually woke up and started to enjoy it.

Mamma and Grammy

These photos are so perfectly posed it's eerie...

Brunch at Bubby's

We went with Morgan and Anne, and got the best table in the restaurant:  second floor, at the corner, with views of both the Brooklyn Bridge and the Manhattan Bridge.  These photos don't even partially do it justice...

He grows into things

We got this awesome sweater from Maria a few months after Elliot was born.  He looked cute in it but it didn't really fit.  Now he's rocking it right.  

Thanks Maria!