One small step for baby, one giant leap for babykind

Our little wanderer took a step last night. One unsupported step. And I was the only person who saw it. He was standing near the trash can in the kitchen, banging on it (it won't kill him). He turned to try and go to the jumperoo and his legs were spread a bit. So he moved his back foot up and forward. I gasped. He raised his arms over his head and squealed. His mother knew something had happened, she was upset when I told her that she had missed it.

That's it, just one little step.

On another development note he have more teeth about to erupt. You know how you see the little light colored bubble right before the tooth pops out? His left front tooth has been that way for a little bit. Because he doesn't like us to open and look in his mouth I flip him upside down a few times which makes him smile wide and open up for us. While looking at the progress on the front left tooth I noticed the one on the left of that is poking through, so I kept looking. . .the one to the right of the front right tooth is poking through too, everything but the front right tooth.

Crazy growing going on.

ADDITION: I forgot, he also learned how to climb up onto a box last night. It was a night of great discovery.

I'm a slacker. . .

I'd like to say my silence these past few days is because nothing is going on. Our little tennis ball (fuzzy and round headed) is crawling like a pro, talking like a motor mouth, and learning a lot. That's the problem. There's so much going on (most of it small), I don't know what to talk about. So in the meantime here's a couple fun links.

Breast pumping champion.

Eco-friendly baby crap.

Zillions* of crock pot recipes.

*Estimated number

Good guide. . .

I was listening to a podcast that mentioned Good Guide. Good guide is an online review site that ranks products based on environmental, social, and health performance. So you can find our that the detergent you're using is melting your skin, will kill small furry animals once it goes down the drain, and was made in a sweatshop in Cambodia by slave children who work for jelly beans.

I mention it because it has a baby section.

Good stuff.

Once upon a time. . .

I came across this article today. It makes me very sad.

I know quite a few parents are annoyed by the princess phenomenon sweeping over their daughters like a contagious disease. I tend to agree with some of the underlying points of this article. Once the princess are removed from their harrowing stories they become nothing more than a pretty face. The role model becomes just a model.

Some say that fairy tales are too scary for kids. Grandma getting eaten by a wolf will give them nightmares. They might, I'm sure at some point the wolf gave me nightmares. It also gave me a non-sugar-coated view of death. And when it was told to me it had already been watered down from the original. I still remember being freaked out by the old Fairy Tale theater episodes (which are funny today).

The point of these stories was to warn children of some horrible things. Little Red Riding Hood warned of strangers, Cinderella told the story of how step families could be cruel, the Golden Goose warned of the error of greed. Most were not as neat and tidy as the fables of Aesop, but they had lessons to teach about some rough subjects. I think we need them now just as much as before.

So to copy off Cara Mama I'm going to ask a question of the week.

What was your favorite Fairy Tale or bedtime story that scared you as a kid?

Mine was probably Rumplestiltskin. Creepy little dude who tried to steal babies before they were born. Be careful what you offer someone, you may just have to pay them.

For anyone who would like some fantastic audio versions of some great stories I'd recommend these. I'm saving them so I can play them for our little guy once he's old enough to understand most of the words. I highly recommend Jack and the Bean Stalk and Rumplestiltskin. Both of the actors who read them are great.

Fun gallery. . .

I was playing around with some CSS for a friends website and figured out how to make this nifty gallery. For anyone who knows CSS this won't look like much, for anyone who doesn't kneel before me I'm Not Skippy! . . Ahem, roll over the thumbnails to get a larger view, click them to go to the original.

• I'm cool like mommy, God help me.
• How does he sleep like that?
• I'm coming for you!
• Banging on my keyboard, wearing daddy's hat.
• Chillin' with the old folks…I mean great grandma and great grandpa.
• Just keep swimming, just keep swimming…

Conservative. . .

I just ran across this article. I thought it was an interesting idea. The wife will never go for it.

Bite me. . .

Have you ever bit down so hard your whole body shook? You know, when you get SO ANGRY and you tense up, clinch your fists, and gnash you teeth together and shake (sometimes while screaming out expletives)? That's what our poor little monkey doing lately.

He's biting the carpet, the couch, his stuffed animals, the safety padding on the coffee table, my shoulder, his mother's thigh, his bath toys, the bathtub, his crib, the window sill, the TV and anything else he can find when the tooth pain hits. You can see it on his face, the pain starts and he searches frantically for the nearest thing to bite. I try to offer him alternatives, like a soft rubbery teething ring, you know something he should want to bite down on. Instead he bites something odd like the remote control and then plays with the teething ring. Putting it in a cup and then "drinking" it. . . or at least dumping it on his face.

It must suck being a baby.

Good Ol' Kentucky. . .

Late last we we started trying to get our little traveler excited about our road trip to Kentucky Lake (I don't know why they put the "lake" at the end). We'd say "are you excited about going to Kentucky?" and he'd look at us as if to ask "what's a Kentucky?" So we all piled into my mother-in-law's Monte Carlo (which I admit I didn't think would hold us at first, but it was very roomy) and made the three and a half hour drive to a cabin by the lake.

The drive was fun. It was the most time we've had to sit, make faces and talk to the little man in a long time. Normally, play time consists of lots of crawling and climbing and not much close-up interaction. It was a nice change. Then he had his two-hour nap. I sat and read a book. Nice quiet ride.

So we arrived at the cabin and met my wife's aunt, uncle, and grandparents. . . and their 3 dogs. The female Australian Shepherd ran right up to him and licked his face. He wasn't sure how to react and looked at us as if to ask "is that a Kentucky?"

The little guy had a great time. He got to know my wife's side of the family more and spent some time being around dogs, which he loved. We took him out on a boat, went swimming in the pool, and were able to try out his new, all-terrain stroller (good on grass not so much on gravel).

Saturday night we went to the local "Shop-o-rama: Home to 50,001 different items," and it was there I realized I was in a red state. What led me to this conclusion? The display of confederate flag merchandise was a tip off, the display next to it of Jesus themed t-shirts was the second, and the clincher was that next to that was a rack of baby camouflage onesies. . . complete with lace around the neck! And this wasn't the cute cammo you see at Old Navy, this was serious hunting cammo!

Sunday morning we were woken by the sound of 50 mph gusts of wind left over from Ike. The tree outside our bedroom was creaking, threatening to collapse like some of the other trees nearby had done before it. Trees and branches were falling all around. We all watched the news reporting how the bulk of the storm had moved straight through St. Louis (were all of us except my wife's uncle live). Thankfully, no trees fell on our cabin, but just as I finished making omelets for everyone, except myself, the power went out. I ate the bacon, hash browns and cheese danish that had already been cooked. We packed up the cars waited a little longer for more of the storm to pass and set off for home.

On the way down a state highway we were stopped by a felled tree covering the road. The first few people stopped were out of their car assessing the situation. My mother-in-law asked "well now what?" I said "now you stop the car and we get out to help move the tree." My father-in-law, my wife's uncle (who was driving behind us) and I got out, along with several other people stopped by the tree, and we all helped push and pull the tree to the side of the road. Then we all went on our way. The rest of the drive was mostly uneventful: a couple over turned trucks, some small pieces of debris, the baby spitting peas all over his car seat.

Then we arrived home to a mess.

Here comes the flood. . .

We got back from a family road trip to Lake Kentucky (more on that soon) to find our power was knocked out by the hurricane remnants and our basement flooded because no power, no sump pump.

I just spent the afternoon and evening cleaning up mud and water from the basement (partly in the dark, again no power). Including climbing into our crawl space and hosing it out. . . 

Now the power is back on and the bulk of the cleaning is over. I know we're luckier than others involved in the storm, that doesn't make clean up suck any less.

Hampered

The newest sensation sweeping our house (or at least the members of our house under 1 year of age) is tipping over the hamper and playing with the dirty clothes.

OK "dirty" is a strong word. They are clothes he has worn, but it's not like he's wallowing in the mud or anything. Sure he sweats a little in them, but still, it's baby sweat.

He crawls into his room, drops Pete the Panda (his bed buddy) into the hamper and then tips the hamper over to fish him out. A small clothing avalanche occurs followed by a free for all clothing grabbing extravaganza! A couple nights ago he had socks hanging out of his mouth while he threw a pair of pants before wrapping a sleeper around his head.

Somehow I must find a way to make folding the laundry fun.

Chewing cud. . .

So this morning from the time our little munch-kin has woken up he's been chewing on nothing more than usual (get it "munch"kin chewing. . . ah forget it). So in addition to chewing today he's been playing with him tongue. Watch for it in the above video. The lighting isn't great so it's hard to see at some points, but it's one of two things.

1. He's just discovered he has a tongue and he's playing with it.
2. His top teeth are starting to come in, they are too small for us to feel, but he feels them and it trying to explore them (which is more likely, because he's still chomping down on the flooring).

Either way it's funny, you can't hear it well on the video, but he is making sucking noises with it too.

Weirdo.

Teething woes. . .

Forget gnawing on the arm of the chair, tonight the teething was so bad, he actually tried biting the carpet. He opens wide, mashes his face into the carpet and tries to much on it.

No oral sex jokes please.

The Shroud of baby. . .

A couple nights ago our little klutz had a bad night. He fell three different times. The one time he was crying and drooling really hard. Knowing that, the above then explains itself.

Water baby. . .

This past week our little guppy has decided that he is through with sitting in the bathtub. He starts off with trying to stand up holding on to the side of the tub. We then pick him up and put him back down on his butt. He then fights to not sit on his butt and rolls over to a crawling position in the tub. He'll slowly slide down the tub and his mouth will get bubbles in it which makes him cough. Then he'll see the water and dive down for a big drink. . . and cough some more.

Nothing we do is helping him want to sit back up like a normal person. He still seems to love being in the bath, he lays on his belly and kicks his legs and waves his arms like he's Michael Phelps. He just won't sit up, which makes us worry he'll swallow too much water and drown.

Nom nom. . .

How do you know your baby is having a tough day cutting teeth? He climbs up and starts to gnaw on the arm of the chair. Seriously, the arm of the chair is now soaked, he was biting it hard. He calmed down once the camera came out.

Cranky crab. . .

I just got an email from a woman I work with outside Chicago. She said she wants a "cranky crab" shirt for her 19-year-old daughter. I told her I'd let her borrow ours. . . I'm a dirty old man.