Happy spring, internets! I hope you are enjoying your Cadbury Mini Eggs and KFP Coca-cola. I have not managed either, and am drowning my sorrows in a bag of pastel-colored dark chocolate m&ms.
Things are mostly dandy, chez Bionique, if mostly rather short on sleep and free-hand time. But! The boy slept until after first light (a serious miracle. This happens approximately never, and by first light I mean not the sun’s appearance but the very first bluing of the sky), and is presently down for a nap, and I am trying out the WP for iPad app. Perhaps that will keep us in closer touch.
Without further ado, some scattered notes:
(oh, no bullets on this thing. Use your imagination, I guess.)
Sleep issues aside, the Bean is splendid. He’s back to using a few words from time to time, which charms the heck out of me. From watching alphabet songs (God bless you, Sesame Street and Youtube, for saving my sanity) he’s latched on to “double-you,” and kept saying it at the botanic garden, I think as an expression of joy.
He is not walking yet, and we’ve gotten to the age where that’s the first question out of everyone’s mouths. For the record: no, and we are genuinely unworried and basically happy about that. He did everything else so early that I was afraid we’d have a rampaging 8 month old, and , well, we did, but I’m glad enough that he mostly rampages on four feet. He wreaks more than enough havoc that way. He’s fast as lightning — faster than I am at walking through our warren of a home — and plenty good at climbing. As far as I can see, there’s no advantage he’ll gain by walking on two feet, since he can go everywhere and do everything this way. I’m sure he’ll surprise me when he does walk, by learning even more methods of destruction, but for now I am enjoying having the only toddler on earth who doesn’t want me to bend over and hold his hands, wearing my back out in the process of helping him toddle.
Oh, I said toddler. That slipped out. I suppose he’s not, by some measures, since he doesn’t do much toddling (the odd unsupported step mid-cruise notwithstanding), but he has tantrums, including a recent one that made it so clear that this is about neurology as much as willpower; he started crying because he was thwarted, but then he really could not stop, even when he managed what he’d been trying for, and sobbed rhythmically in my arms for 30 minutes. He’s gotten to the point with his books where he wants the same one read repeatedly, and two days ago, at lunch, he ate something only after I dipped it in ketchup, a trick which has never worked before. Toddler.
But still my baby.
While he’s not walking, he is learning new tricks. The other day, I was dealing with paperwork before leaving him in childcare at the hippie coop, and I guess he was done waiting. He grabbed the bar of his stroller, swung out like a monkey, dropped confidently to his feet, and zoomed off to the toy box. It was magic.
Insert transition (sorry, trying to get something posted, no time for niceties).
We three journeyed down south for a long weekend at the start of my spring break, to visit a blogging friend, eat good food, and drink whiskey. It was divine, and has us thinking — predictably, perhaps — about leaving the city. Neither of us can stand the thought of going to the suburbs, which seem to have everything I dislike about city life with little of what I like, but a nice, warm college town somewhere pretty…. Well, the temptations are real, not least because a yard would come in dang handy about now. The Bean had the time of his life, just standing at a potting bench sorting rocks. I just about lost him up the tree I had the bright idea to lift him up in. (see above, re: primates, climbing.)
Also: the local grocery sold its own canned goods and potato chips cooked in lard. I stood at the display of hams for quite sometime before forcing myself to leave them, and I wouldn’t have if I’d realized that rather than give up half my clothes to fit on in a suitcase, I could have just put the Bean in the stroller at the train station and cradled the ham in the baby carrier. Front carry, of course, so it feels safe. I am an attachment parent when it comes to good ham.
Instead, I brought home a pint of pear preserves and four boxes of pectin, which no store in NYC seems to have heard of. The last box I had, which went into a batch of hot pepper jelly this winter, had to be mailed to me from Virginia by a sympathetic friend. What is it with this place?
I’d better sign off, as the super is supposed to be coming soon to install our window bars. They are required by law here, but I don’t mind too much now that he can get on the bed and sofa alone. After a few days of power struggles over the issue, he now understands that he can stand at the window only if he keeps both feet on the bed, but it’s still a little nerve-wracking.
In any case, we need the bars before the home study for the adoption happens. Our paperwork is in, and our lawyer reported back on the state of the public home study option: it’s an 8 month wait for a visit, followed by 4 more for the report. Ugh. We will be shelling out for a private social worker and hoping the IRS allows the tax credit so that we’re not just permanently out the 800 additional bucks on top of the lawyer’s fee and assorted other costs. Whee. Of course we are grateful to live in a state where yadda, yadda, but it sure does all seem like a racket sometimes.