Maisie’s diet is ever expanding. She’s tried sweet potatoes, oatmeal, pears, and applesauce, and amazingly enough some of it does end up in her mouth instead of her chin or my forehead. We think she likes applesauce the best because that’s what she spits out the least. But like every parent, I’ve learned that feeding is about 15% actual feeding and 85% wiping residual food from the chin and trying to get it back into the mouth.
OTHER FLAVORS OF BABY FOOD THAT BEECH NUT NEEDS TO OFFER.
- Fresh canned peas
- Pepperoni and sausage pizza
- Whirled Milk Duds
- Ground Up Happy Meal
- POOP UPDATE. Everybody has told us how the whole diaper situation gets about 100 times worse once the baby starts eating real food. I’m here to report that this assumption is correct as witnessed by the poop that somehow made it to the wall yesterday.
- SIPPEE CUP UPDATE: Maisie is now actively using the sippee cup and has discovered its two main functions 1) to get water to the mouth without spilling, 2) to throw across the table at anything breakable.
- TOYS SCATTERED AROUND THE HOUSE UPDATE: It is safe to say the house will be clean again sometime around the year 2028.
MORE BABY LOGIC
- I don’t want to pull the blanket up over my head because it scares me, therefore
- I will pull the blanket up over my head
GORDITOS. Maisie and I went to eat at one of my five favorite burrito joints today–Gordito’s, “Where the burritos are bigger than newborns and there are pictures posted on the wall to prove it.” Maisie and I were sitting quietly in a corner, at the table next to us were a mom, dad and a five year boy . All three were eating when Junior announced that he wanted to eat like a dog.
His parents said no, he couldn’t eat like a dog. Junior began to cry because this news from his parents obviously didn’t fit into his plans to eat like a dog.
So he moved over to a nearby empty table thinking this might be an eating-like-a-dog safe zone, but no such luck. Mom and Dad made him return to their table and Junior reluctantly ate a few more bites with a knife and a fork.
Then he eyed us.
Junior had decided that Maisie and I looked like eat-like-a-dog advocates and moved over to our table. And so he came over and stood, said nothing, did nothing, just stood like some graduate of Village Of The Damned Preschool. Thankfully his parents called him back to their table, and he left without saying a word.
“You are not growing up to be like that,” I told Maisie.
THE STORY OF SWEATY HANS (as told to Maisie two nights ago)
Once upon a time in some Norwegian Country like Sweden, Denmark or Poland, there was a little boy named Hans. Hans was a nice kid…went to school, came home, did his chores, ate dinner and went to bed. Pretty normal, except there was one thing for which Hans was known far and wide. He sweated like there was no tomorrow. And he didn’t use deodorant. So I guess that’s two things he was famous for. So one day Sweaty Hans was chopping wood with his favorite ax, when a big giant from Finland walked up.
“I’m going to destroy your village,” the giant told Hans.
“Not if I can help it,” Hans answered back, then lifted the axe up to strike the giant. Unfortunately when Hans lifted the axe handle, his hands were so sweaty that the ax flew backwards out of his hands and hit Old Haggard Lady Myrtle in the head.
“Oops,” said Hans.
Hans then picked up a chainsaw and had planned to fling that at the giant but instead he hit the telephone line behind him and cut it in two.
“Oops,” said Hans.
Hans then walked over to the mill, disengaged the 48 Dodge Power Wagon Buzzsaw, and walked back. Only problem with that the buzz saw slipped out of his hands on the way back and it rolled down the hill and cut Old Farmer Magnus in half (the top part survived).
So Hans, knowing he was defeated, walked back to the giant and said…
“OK, you win.”
Then he lifted his arm to point the way to the village so the Giant could go destroy it. But then a miracle happened. The Giant fell to his knees gasping for breath, then went down all fours, then collapsed to the ground and died.
Hans looked at him, wondering what strange malady had befallen the giant. He couldn’t understand it, but it was obvious wasn’t it? When Hans lifted his arm to point the way to the village, the stench was so gross, so awful, that it felled the mighty giant. Unfortunately for Hans, it felled everyone in the village as well, but that’s just the way it goes.
And that was the story of Sweaty Hans.
MAISIE BREAKS G-POP. Aimee’s dad had this little case of tendonitis in his wrist. So of course, this was Maisie’s cue to make cute faces and whiny noises so that G-Pop would have no choice but to pick her up, tendonitis and all. Well, the wrist made a valiant effort but on the next to last day of their visit, G-Pop picked her up and something snapped. The next morning G-Pop went for a walk and then turned up at the front door with a wrist brace and a hospital bill. Maisie of course immediately started making more cute faces and whiny noises, knowing full well…
OTHER PARTS OF THE BODY MAISIE HAS ON HER SEARCH AND DESTROY LIST.
- Her Father’s Back
- Her Father’s Knees
- Her Father’s Torso
ROLLOVER. Maisie has mastered just about every element in doing a complete 360-degree rollover. The only part she hasn’t mastered is the part where she has to roll back over on her back. So what typically happens, especially at night, is Maisie plans to execute a total 360, gets halfway around, suddenly realizes she’s on her stomach and begins to cry. Usually there’s a stray right arm or something preventing her from rolling onto her back. And as much as I’ve tried to teach her to tuck and roll, it’s still not quite sinking in. So now when it’s the middle of the night, and you suddenly hear a blood-curdling cry, you know that the 173-degree roll over has struck again.
TYPES OF BABY FOOD NOW TAKING UP SPACE IN OUR CUPBOARD: Sweet Potatoes, Pears, Peaches, Mangos, Peas and Brown Rice, Carrots, Rice and Lentil Dinner, and Oatmeal Flavored with Cardboard, Gruel, Residual Grease, Dirt
CARROTS. Maisie’s first encounter with carrots did not go well, as 70% of the carrots ended up on her plastic bib. The other 30% were distributed between her chin, cheeks and forehead, the table and the August issue of Entertainment Weekly. We will try again later but the overwhelming majority of public opinion seems to side with Maisie on the pureed carrots debate. That they belong in the floor, not in the mouth.
FIRST FALL. It’s the day that every parent dreads, but a day that is certain to come sooner or later—when your kid falls out of a chair, off the couch, hits the head on the table, takes a pretty mean tumble. Well, it happened this morning. I had placed Maisie in the swing that she was rapidly outgrowing while I got her car seat ready. I was clearing out the belts and stuffed animals, when I heard a heavy thud to my right and knew immediately that she had just officially outgrown the swing. She lay on the ground, crying at the top of her lungs. Feeling like the winner of the Dateline with Chris Matthews award for worst parenting, I picked her up and held her for five minutes apologizing profusely. She finally quit crying, but there was a bit of a scar on her head which stayed there the better part of the day.
SECOND FALL. Came the very next day. This time Aimee had to suffer through the trauma as Maisie went from couch to floor in about 2.7 seconds. I wasn’t around for this particular tumble, but I think there may have been some advanced planning involved on Maisie’s part to include her mom as she didn’t want me to suffer alone.
THIRD FALL came a few days after that–she fell off the bed this time. And even though she has hit the Fall Trifecta (swing, couch, bed), it seems that she has weathered the falls quite well. No major bruises to speak of, but she has taken to roaming around the house asking, “Where’s George?”
SOMETHING LITTLE BRAT NEIGHBOR KIDS SAID WHILE crying for no reason during our visit to CAMANO ISLAND:
“We gave them biscuits and everything and they’re being jerks.”
POOP STORY #3,951. I need to tell one more poop story, only because this particular poop was so all-encompassing. Not only did Maisie get it on her pants, her leg and the bedsheet, she also got it on the pillowcase.
But wait, that’s not all.
Breaking all laws of poop physics, she also got it on the pillow inside the pillowcase. How is this possible? It appears her poop powers are superhuman, I mean how else do you explain getting past the diaper, the pant, the sheet, the pillowcase and onto the pillow. Luckily it didn’t burn through the pillow and eat through the bed and the floor and downstairs and to the center of the earth.
PLANET FROM WHERE MAISIE’S POOP ORIGINATES. The Planet Krypton.
BOUNCY HOUSE PARTY. We took Maisie to a friend’s Chili-Cook-off party where they rented a bouncy house for all the kids. A couple things happened during the party.
- One kid went into the bouncy house and took off all his clothes causing all the kids to run out of there leaving him alone jumping up and down naked.
- Maisie stood up by herself holding only her carriage.
- A little kid came over stood in from of me until I looked up, “I have a ball that makes noise,” he said. “That’s nice,” I said, “Please keep your clothes on.”
Well, the Rainforest Jumperoo has outlived its usefulness. Once a trusted parental ally that could keep Maisie occupied for at least a half hour, it has now become Maisie’s least favorite toy…even falling in ranking to below the vibrating frog chair. Now when you lower her into it, all she does is cry. Even the very action of stepping in the general direction of the Rainforest Jumperoo is enough to set her off. Instead, she has become obsessed with reaching for things. Like she stands at the coffee table and reaches for the TV remote and sticks it in her mouth. This is all cute and everything, but it’s also fraught with peril. I mean what happens if she somehow deprograms the remote, what the hell do we do then?
FOOD REPORT: Maisie seemed to like plums, was tolerant of prunes, and judging by the sour look that came across her face, has black listed mangoes. But she really does love the taste of oatmeal, although not as much as she loves the taste of plastic bibs and plastic spoons.
FOOD REPORT 2. Maisie has also made it clear she does not care for the Sweet Potato and Chicken flavor of the Earth’s Best Baby food. After reading the label I could see why, “At Earth’s Best, we use sweet potatoes that are only slightly bruised and the rear end bits from chickens that fart a lot.”
Mom went away on a spa and gambling bender with her girlfriends for a few days, and Maisie and I got some quality time together. Wanting to introduce Maisie to the concept of snow on mountaintops and rushing rivers, we drove the North Cascades Highway hoping to find some roadside park where we could to sit and enjoy a baby formula lunch and some clean mountain air. On discovering that somebody (namely me) forgot to pack a nipple, the fresh mountain air and roadside park were traded in for a WalMart parking lot in Mt. Vernon. From there we had a nice view of the Dairy Queen, shopping carts and a ’63 Ford Panel Van with no windows.
With a bit of assistance, Maisie is now standing. But standing with assistance only goes so far. You can tell by her grunting and her DarthVader-like breathing, that she wants to WALK. And no toy, no food, no diversion will take her mind off that.
Figuring that crawling might be a nice stepping stone to WALKING, we’ve been putting Maisie in a face-down crawling-friendly position. But all that does is motivate her to go into skydive position– arms and legs up in the air, stomach on the ground, and no movement whatsoever
HALLOWEEN COSTUME. After much deliberation, the Ghostbuster costume was officially discarded as being too labor intensive, while the Karl Marx costume was shown the door for not being easily recognizable (most people mistook it for Kenny Rogers before the bad facelift), so we settled on a Ladybug because it was actually cute as opposed to Karl Marx or Kenny Rogers and would make my Mother very happy.
OTHER COSTUMES THAT DIDN’T MAKE THE CUT. Edith Piaf, Little Richard, La Z Boy Recliner, Professional Bowler, Mothra, Cher’s Forehead.
Maisie outgrows clothes on an hourly basis. The pajamas that fit her the night before last are now two sizes too small, the onesie that fit yesterday is cutting off circulation. So they all get relegated to the “too small” box, which is kind of like baby clothes purgatory. Too small too wear, but not quite messed up enough to give away. These are a steadily growing number and it may not be too long before they rise up in rebellion. Then you know what happens after that…they’ll all be suppressed by the newer clothes and all their leaders will be guillotined.
WE HAVE TOOTH. Two little teeth have made their presence known through crying bouts, drooling sessions and hour-long periods of non-stop whining. They look like two little breath mints glued to the bottom of her mouth. And I believe their chomping power may be currently limited to pudding and pieces of paper. Nonetheless, there have been a few evenings where we had to break out the cherry-flavored aspirin, but it worked like a charm. I was out within ten minutes.
NEXT WEEK: MAISIE’S FIRST TRIP TO NEW YORK CITY.