Blast from the past (or objects in the rear view mirror appear smaller)

The other day, I received notification that someone had made a comment on an old blog post of mine. (Not super old, as I've been blogging for more than 14 years, like before "blog" was a word. Before even "weblog" was a word. I called it my "online journal.") Anyway, it was one I did on hair dye, and I've done several, so I went back to see which one she meant. It was this one.

Anyway, I noticed something about that blog, and it wasn't how much more natural that color looks than what I use now. It was this:

BEFORE-PREGNANCY CHEST

Next picture is in differently-colored but same model tank and sports bra. I tried to be modest while making a point. And ignore the place where my son scratched me before I realized it was time to trim his nails again.

 NURSING MOO-COW CHEST

So, yeah. Not to be indelicate, but... It's part of this whole thing. Holy cow. See what I did there?

Malstones

Every day, it seems like Mal "gets" something or does something new.

Yesterday, James was rolling a ball to him, which is something we've both done before... In the past, Mal would just look at the ball, if he noticed it, he'd just kind of watch. This time, he understood what the point of the game was. He tried to do something with the ball once it came to him, mostly rolling it the wrong way, but sometimes putting some backspin on it and getting it back to James. When James would roll it across the wooden floor and it would bounce up onto the mat where Mal was sitting, Mal would giggle. Then he'd reach for it and try to do something with it. This went on for about 10 minutes. It was so fun!

Mal's first non-mushed food: scrambeled egg! He loved it! (He also loved the cashew milk.)

Last night, though, something very weird happened. Mal fell asleep and, as usual, woke up a couple of times shortly after, so I put him back to sleep. After an hour or so, he woke up crying. I tried to soothe him, and he wouldn't have it. He wouldn't nurse. His crying intensified, and he was wanting me to hold him, but also pushing me away, looking around, and seemed very scared and confused. At some point, I called James in because Mal was still looking around and sobbing. When James came in, Mal went straight to him, snuggled up, but then started bawling again. He went back and forth between us a few times, and I started to get panicked. He seemed very, very scared and confused, and all I could think of was, "What if he woke up and he couldn't see? Or hear?" I snapped my finger behind his head, and he looked around to see what I was doing. Then I wiggled them noiselessly in front of his face to get his attention, and moved them around. He tracked those fine, too.

Finally, we took him into the living room where it was light. He kept looking around like he was trying to find something, and he kept just sobbing. He was clearly not in pain. He was sad, confused, scared. After about ten minutes, as Daphne was getting out of the shower and he got a glance at her, he finally let me nurse him, and he fell back to sleep. When he woke up this morning, he was fine. Normal. No idea what happened, but hope it's not a regular thing.

Today, Mal had another cool first. We were out on the porch and heard an ambulance siren. Mal looked over at the fire station! The truck was sitting in the garage, and I said, "That's not the fire truck! It's an ambulance!" We live about 10 blocks from a hospital, and 10 blocks from a police station, then less than a block from the fire station. So we hear a lot of sirens. But Mal is used to the light show that accompanies the fire truck's siren. A couple of minutes later, we heard the ambulance again, and again, Mal stood up and looked down at the fire station. Smart little kid!

So, it looks like he's starting to grasp cause and effect. He definitely is getting easier in some ways. For instance, he will stay in the nursery at church for half an hour to 45 minutes before he starts really fussing. He stayed about an hour with my sister last week, no problem. He no longer screams when I shower. That one's a huge blessing. Mal is perfectly content to hang out and play with his dad.

In fact, Mal is starting to seek James out, and will go to him instead of me at times. Mal says with regularity and specificity, "Da-da," when he sees James. Everything I've read says kids this age repeat syllables and don't attach meaning to them, but it's pretty consistent. (He only says, "Ma-maaaaah!" when he's crying.)

Mal still likes to be held a lot, and isn't a huge fan of being in his walking chair when I'm making dinner, even though we're in the same room. He wants to be held. Ever since I accidentally grazed his leg with a hot cookie sheet, though, I do make sure I'm not holding him whenever I'm using anything hot. However, now that he's very mobile and knows how to maneuver the walker, everything is within his grasp. In this house, with no cabinetry, that means he has access to our entire pantry and most of our cooking pans. Scarier, he could probably pull one of the units over on himself. He's never in the kitchen alone, but all the same, I'll be glad to get somewhere that we can close doors that are part of permanent fixtures!

As for me, I'm almost always tired. I'm almost always sore. Between the bike rides, the walking, the baby-wearing, the carrying, and the sleeping-funny-so-I-can-nurse, I'm just in need of a massage (something that has only become a possibility in the past two weeks or so). Mal is still very much 24/7 in a way that Daphne wasn't at this age, so I rarely feel refreshed and rested... but it's getting easier, if only because I can read him better, and meet his needs better. There is so much less crying now, and so much more laughing. Having a baby is just work, and it's absolutely worth it.

I forgot to add this in to Mal's 6-month update, but wanted to get it in writing to horrify him someday (honestly, I don't expect my kids ever to read my blog unless I die and they're hungry for more of me posthumously): Every time we change his diaper -- EVERY time -- he has to do a manual junk check. "Yep, it's still there. Stttttretchhhh-BOING. Strrreeetchh-- BOING!" Good times. In other words, he's a normal boy. It's just my first time to mom a baby guy, and I think it's adorable. He ends up with baby powder on his hand a lot.

Mal is still sleeping with us. He seriously cannot sleep more than about an hour without waking up to make sure someone's there. It feels like he's nursing a lot more at night than he used to, or maybe it's just that he's not tapering off like I expected he would at this age. But he nurses a lot less frequently during the day, as he's a champ at consuming real food now. I don't feel pressure to nurse him to calm him down in public anymore like I used to. I know we can go three hours or so and if he starts to get fussy, I can distract him with something else, no problem. This means we can go places and do more things, whcih I love.

I'd tried giving Malcolm milk before, and he wasn't impressed. He never took to formula, either, and I tried all of them: dairy, soy, mixed, gentle tummy formula, etc. However, a friend suggested trying cashew milk, and that seems to be the one for the boy. He sucks that stuff down! He also likes pretty much everything we feed him, and I think he's ready for stuff beyond baby food. He had scrambled eggs last week (pictured above), and I'll look to see what we're having this week that he can enjoy without teeth. I also gave him part of a strawberry-banana smoothie we made last week, and he liked it, too.

So here we are in the second half of the first year. This is where it starts getting fun. Finally. :) Glad we made it this far. Excited about the future!

Tomy Koala Miniature Village, circa 1980s

When I was younger (much, much younger), I collected some miniatures I believe I got from the now-defunct Coach House Cards and Gifts at Central Mall in Fort Smith, Arkansas. My mom saved them, and for a couple of years, I "lost" them in my daughter's stuff. She's been cleaning out and reorganizing so found them.

My sister had tried to find them online to show her daughter because we have very fond memories of playing with these cool koala minis, but neither of us were able to find their presence on the internet at all... until today.

When I Googled them just now, I found out something I had no idea about! They were called "Busy Bears of Hippity Hollow." What?! Who knew? Well, I guess the 1980s might have known, but I certainly forgot!

Anyway, I took pictures of the miniature village (or should I say "Hippity Hollow"? Um, no. Let's not say that) and decided to post them here for those who might also like a walk down Memory Lane with the toy nostalgia.

Do bears... uh, percolate?

Excuse the blurred finger of my infant son's hand. He mistakenly thought he could play with these. Check back in a couple of years, big guy.

Mmmm! Koala juice!

When I was a young girl, this was probably my favorite. I loved the TV screen and how it distorted what was behind it just a bit.

I guess this does look like a busy community, but I wouldn't call it... you know. It's real name. And not just because I live in Austin, where Hippy Hollow is a nude beach!

How a lazy person alters furniture (down-cycling?)

A couple of years ago, I bought a white three-drawer dresser from a friend. It had see-through panels in the drawer fronts, so in theory would have worked a lot like this:

The only problem is that I don't have neatly-folded linens in my dresser. I have haphazardly-folded baby blankets in one drawer, paper items that should be in a filing cabinet if we had one in another, and I have no idea what is in the bottom drawer.

My thought originally was that I might paint the inside of the panels so that they weren't entirely see-through. Then one of my cats (I'm assuming) cracked a bit of the top panel, and it looked weird.

So then I had this other idea, which I did today. This is how people like me, which is to say someone who has no technical building or redecorating skills, gets things done:

Yep, with Duct Tape. Trust me, it looks better from afar.

Fortunately, I'm not bothered by the bends and air bubbles in the tape. I just don't care. And even though I did these this afternoon, it's true that I still have no idea what's in the bottom drawer. Now that I can't see, I might never know!

I think it looks very room-appropriate with the quilt James' mom made. And, no, sorry, my services are not available to the public. It's quite the miracle I got this done my own self. I know you're all disappointed, but please try not to feel too awful about it. I'm almost certain that you, too, are capable of renovation on this level.

Mal is 6 months old!

Six months ago (and a couple of hours), this little dude was born! (The human one.)

So, here's the mandatory update:

HEIGHT/WEIGHT: We haven't made it to the six-month well check yet, so let's just say that Mal is heavy, and his feet hit my knees when I'm wearing him.

FAVORITE FOOD: newsprint and receipts

LIKES: biking with Mom (until he doesn't); bouncing in his "jungle" or door bouncy (until he doesn't); smiling at people, cats, the back of his sister's head, screen savers, and passers-by to the Nuthaus; the bell rattle that came in his Citrus Lane box, month three; adventures with Dad when Dad gets a notion to wear him on a walk; his Mama!

DISLIKES: peas (and that's saying something because dude will suck on a wet nap); sleeping alone.

FAVORITE SONG: the song of his people. He hums it often; it's in a minor key and frequently has only one note. It is oft-repeated to the point that I often vow to do physical harm to my tympanic membrane so as never to hear it again. 

RECENT DEVELOPMENTS: Mal laughs a lot, which we like. He also screams. Not so much with the liking. I'm not sure how to train him out of that. He is delighted by this new-found ability. He can crawl backwards like a pro, and has managed to go forward a couple of times that resembled hard work rather than dumb luck. He has two bottom teeth, just broken through in the last month, even though he's been teething for about three months. I'm pretty sure he knows "da-da" is his dad, even though he patently refuses to call me "ma-ma" or respond when we ask where I am because, seriously, I'm always right there.

Mal will little note nor long remember his first half-year on the planet, but it has altered our family forever. It's been a challenge and a joy. A privilege, and a hard-fought one. This is the part where I think it starts getting fun. I can't wait for the next six months! The next six years, even.

Happy half, Malcolm Khrystopher!

POST SCRIPT:

Here's an anecdote I want to remember and hope you find amusing:

I was frosting a cake the other day (first one since he was born!) and had Mal sitting in his high chair while I did it. His dad was amusing him when he'd get fussy about being down so long. At one point, Mal grabbed the empty frosting tub, and I was fine with letting him play with it. Then suddenly we heard easily the happiest noise we've ever heard come out of that baby, and it was then that I realized that there was some frosting around the rim of the tub, Mal had eaten it, and he was sitting there giggling with the cutest, "Heh. Heh heh. Heh heh heh heh hehhhh!" James wanted to get a video of that, so grabbed the camera. It seriously tickled us a lot. But then Mal got distracted for two seconds, and I quickly removed the icing tub, because I don't want him getting on the sugar train for a while yet! Sorry I ruined James' video, but boy gotsta eat, and I can't have him holding out for icing. But I get it, little dude, I totally get it. He is definitely my son.

An alternate (morally superior) recipe for Justin's homemade chocolate peanut butter eggs

Okay, now, I want you to know I'm not typically curmudgeonly about most things. But today. Oh, man, today there was a straw and it broke this camel's back, baby.

First, it started with this:

A few weeks ago, Alton Brown posted a recipe for a chocolate cake made with tofu instead of milk (cleverly called "Moo-Less Chocolate Pie"). It looks delicious! I'd love to make one soon, and I have no aversion to dairy; I just like stuff like this. However, from some of the comments, you'd think he murdered a person's grandma.

"I almost ended up in the hospital because someone tried to “trick” be with black bean brownies. I have a host of odd allergies including most leagues (sic), black beans and soy included." He's so allergic to "legumes" that he can't even spell them!

A lot of the comments were like that. And I'm not trying to minimize food allergies; I get that some are fatal. But here's the deal: I do not believe for one moment that AB is out on the street surreptitiously handing out pie to unsuspecting by-passers. My guess is that he knows who he's feeding. Besides, if I had a soy allergy, I'd be SUPER careful about everything I put in my maw, because I think more stuff has soy than gluten, and when it's everywhere, you have to be very careful.

So, if AB has a dinner party, I'm almost certain that he asks if there are any allergies or aversions and honors those. If no one says they're allergic to soy, then they probably get the pie.

Oh, and if you *do* have a food allergy and I ask about it, you might need to elaborate. For instance, a few years ago, if I'd asked about this and you'd said you had a latex allergy, I would only have made sure I didn't wear gloves when preparing the meal (who knew there even *was* such a thing as cross-reactive food?!).

Then a friend posted this, and it's very funny (and perhaps offensive to you if you're humor-challenged about this kind of thing).




But today.

Today, this one got me.

Three days ago, Justin's made this post on Facebook:

Well hello, Spring! Has anyone ever succeeded in balancing an egg on the equinox? Today, I'm attempting it with this PB egg. Most delicious experiment ever. #peanutbutter #spring #equinox

Homemade Peanut Butter Eggs:

Melt 1/2 Cup Honey Peanut Butter in the microwave for 30 seconds. Whisk in 1/2 C. Powdered Sugar and stir until fully combined. Form PB mixture into egg shapes and freeze for 20 minutes. Dip PB eggs into melted dark, milk or white chocolate and refrigerate 15 minutes or until chocolate has set. Enjoy!

Well, fun, right? No. Awwww, heck, naw.

"microwave... are you kidding me...makes me wonder about your products quality that I have been buying for years. NO nuke the food!" "Oh Justins's. That "all natural" goes to shit the moment you mention a microwave."

Um... and, wow. There was another one. But it's been deleted. I think it was deleted because, well, I'm not proud of this, but I trolled a little bit. The comment said, "Can you please post a version of this recipe that does not use the microwave?" Now, some very nice/helpful person (mentally healthy) gave instructions about using a double-boiler and melting it the way you'd melt chocolate, then the original poster thanked her. I might. not. have. been very Christlike in my follow-up. I *might* have said something like, "Seriously? Then use the stove. You could leave it out on the porch if you live in the south."

Now, before we judge me too harshly (like I judged that person), realize where I'm coming from: If you've committed your life to avoiding the very microwaves that 90% of people who can afford to have a microwave oven use every day, then I expect YOU to be the expert on how to get around using it. I mean, it's not like you just stopped using the "nuker" (that's not how it works) yesterday and haven't figured out what else to do. You don't use one, right? So YOU should have the tips and tricks, man.

Regardless, that's deleted now.

And I feel bad.

Sort of.

Mostly because it was ridiculous, and if she genuinely didn't know and wanted to know, she should have left it up instead of cowering beneath my virtual glare.

But I am ready to do penance! How? By making a more friendly, natural PB egg recipe. Here it is, anonymous user who deleted your condescending question:

Homemade Peanut Butter Eggs:

Harvest 3 Tablespoons honey from your beehive. Thank the bees by doing a gratefulness dance that mimics their "here's pollen" dance, but not so closely that it tricks them because that would be mean. Process peanuts into butter either at the store or at home. Put it into a Mason jar that has already been used once and will be used again after this time. If you are male, place the mason jar just below the waist of your drawers, and if you're a lady, put it between your girls. Do this long enough that the peanut butter is soft and stirable. You might want to wear an 8 x 11.5 inch sign on your front and back that says "packing peanuts" so that people with allergies can avoid you. They might think you're referring to the environmentally devastating styrofoam, so add "like Snickers" underneath, and maybe that will help avoid a lecture. Take 1/2 cup sugar in the raw and process it in your solar-powered blender until it is powdery. Add 1 Tablespoon cream of tartar left over from your wine-making to the sugar, then whisk it in with the peanut butter and honey stir until fully combined. Form PB mixture into egg shapes and store it overnight in one of the passive cooling systems described here (which you have already built; you're really supposed to read the WHOLE recipe first, you know). While you're waiting, pick some chocolate that is Fair Trade. All kidding aside, ripping poor people off so you can get your chocolate fix isn't cool. Dip PB eggs into melted dark, milk or white chocolate and refrigerate overnight or until the chocolate has set.

Okay. So hopefully we're square now.

Do you feel better? I feel better. If you don't then watch this, and afterwards we'll ALL feel much happier. And, maybe. Maybe I might be crying. How can we be mad when there's this?

"You keep using that word..."

If I told you I'd been to the Samaritan Outpost here in town, where would you think I'd been? You might not know for sure, but you might assume something like a charitable organization or a medical clinic or something to help people, right?

According to the dictionary, "Samaritan" means "a charitable or helpful person (with reference to Luke 10:33)." But I think it only means that due to usage, similarly to how "literally" now means "in effect" or "virtually." Which is to say, that doesn't mean it's very precise.

Luke 10 contains a story about a Samaritan, true. But there is a qualifier. He was a "good" Samaritan. A Samaritan is actually "a member of a people inhabiting Samaria in biblical times, or of the modern community in the region of Nablus claiming descent from them, adhering to a form of Judaism accepting only its own ancient version of the Pentateuch as Scripture." It is also an adjective referring to someone from Samaria.

Using "Samaritan" to indicate someone or something charitable seems to me like naming all of the math tutoring centers "Chinese" and expecting that we'll all get what it means because, come on, right?

Another Bible thing the Christian vernacular has co-opted is "prodigal." It actually means "spending money or resources freely and recklessly; wastefully extravagant." We use it to mean "back-slid" or "hopefully temporarily unrepentant" or "having strayed from the faith of one's youth."

"God is calling the person who spends money in a recklessly extravagant way, come without delay..."

Hey, it rhymes!

What else? Are there other terms from the Bible that we have made to mean something that, outside the context of the Bible, doesn't actually make sense?