baby x is on the move.
Wednesday, January 19, 2011
Monday, January 17, 2011
that time at the orthopedist's office
the baron and the husband and baby x spent a good part of their morning yesterday at an orthopedic surgeon's office, in way-far-out-there maryland. they were there on behalf of baby x, by way of referral from his pediatrician. the fat folds on his chubby legs are asymmetrical, which may indicate a wee bit of trouble in his hips.*
in the waiting room, baby x crawled about on the floor upending magazine baskets and chewing on backpack straps. also in the waiting room was an elderly woman and her black-and-blue eyed son (upon whom, apparently, a tree branch fell). the woman sat down near them, opened her bag, and extracted a small beanie baby toy. this beanie baby - a floppy eared dog - had seen better, cleaner days.
'can i give this to him?' she said, gesturing toward baby x.
with as much grace as she could muster, the baron offered the woman effusive thanks for the kind gesture, but said that the toy was a bit on the small side for baby x. in her mind, in her in-my-mind-voice, the baron thought, 'WHEW. bullet dodged THERE, eh? well done, the baron! no strange toys from strangers for baby x!' she cast a sidelong glance at the husband and imagined him giving her a psychic pat on the back.
but.
the woman had a counter offer, one that the baron could by no means have anticipated.
she said, 'i have a plastic bag full of toys in the car. i have a very big teddy bear in there, would he like that? would he like a teddy bear?'
the baron said, '...', followed by, '...'
in her mind, in her in-my-mind-voice, the baron thought, 'what the what?!'
[reader, let's pause this scene for one minute. usually, the baron isn't so much a fan of people. just in general, people in general. in a waiting room, you'll often find her in a corner with a book and her sunglasses on. this morning's waiting room was no different; left to her own devices the baron would have taken baby x to a corner of the waiting room and tried her hardest to convince him to play quietly.
but.
babies rarely want to stay quietly in a corner, and baby x is no different. also, babies are kind of old lady magnets. and this woman, with the past its prime beanie baby, was old. 72 years old, she said. and it seemed as though she, like the beanie baby, had seen better days. during the brief time she spent with the baron and the husband, she mentioned that her middle son died 14 years ago and that her youngest son had terminal liver and pancreatic cancer but had been refused treatment by everyone and was 'pretty well using'. 'using', in this case, meant to indicate drugs, as far as the baron could tell. also, her oldest son, did the baron mention, had been attacked by a fallen tree limb and had black and blue eyes?
it seemed that, in this case, this woman needed to gift a gently used stuffed animal to baby x MORE than the baron needed to heed her own instinct to avoid strangers. the idea that baby x
might appreciate and delight in a very large second hand teddy bear seemed to genuinely make this woman happy.]
the baron said, 'if you're sure and you don't mind, then he'd love a teddy bear.'
she made off to her car at a quick clip and returned with a black plastic bag from which she pulled a very large teddy bear. and a frog.
the woman said, 'i give away a lot of toys, at mcdonald's or arby's. i get them from friends. i give away a lot of frogs especially. see?' at this, she opened her jacket to reveal her sweatshirt: a cartoon frog, underneath which read Forever Relying On God.
[reader, let's pause this one more time.
ok. this was the moment when the baron began a mental retreat. without looking at him, the baron knew the husband was doing the same thing. baby x, on the floor with his new bear and frog - because, oh yes, she gave him one of those too - couldn't have been happier or more oblivious to the extreme religiosity happening above him.]
the baron, being not especially religious herself, made a series of oohing and aahing sounds while her brain whirred away trying to find a natural end to the situation, a graceful escape to the conversation. none came, but luck was with them:
they were called into an exam room by the nurse.
*trouble in this case having to do with hip dysplasia. the pediatrician thought baby x's hips felt fine, but based on baby x's fat folds suggested the trip to the orthopedist to be sure. the orthopedist, after a full physical examination and x-rays of baby x's hips, felt that baby x is perfectly healthy.**
**baby x needed to stay perfectly still during the x-ray; the husband and the nurse held baby x on the table to keep him still. the baron hovered outside, waiting for the x-rays to finish, and over mild grunting heard emanating from the from the room heard this from the nurse: 'this is a strong baby!'
in the waiting room, baby x crawled about on the floor upending magazine baskets and chewing on backpack straps. also in the waiting room was an elderly woman and her black-and-blue eyed son (upon whom, apparently, a tree branch fell). the woman sat down near them, opened her bag, and extracted a small beanie baby toy. this beanie baby - a floppy eared dog - had seen better, cleaner days.
'can i give this to him?' she said, gesturing toward baby x.
with as much grace as she could muster, the baron offered the woman effusive thanks for the kind gesture, but said that the toy was a bit on the small side for baby x. in her mind, in her in-my-mind-voice, the baron thought, 'WHEW. bullet dodged THERE, eh? well done, the baron! no strange toys from strangers for baby x!' she cast a sidelong glance at the husband and imagined him giving her a psychic pat on the back.
but.
the woman had a counter offer, one that the baron could by no means have anticipated.
she said, 'i have a plastic bag full of toys in the car. i have a very big teddy bear in there, would he like that? would he like a teddy bear?'
the baron said, '...', followed by, '...'
in her mind, in her in-my-mind-voice, the baron thought, 'what the what?!'
[reader, let's pause this scene for one minute. usually, the baron isn't so much a fan of people. just in general, people in general. in a waiting room, you'll often find her in a corner with a book and her sunglasses on. this morning's waiting room was no different; left to her own devices the baron would have taken baby x to a corner of the waiting room and tried her hardest to convince him to play quietly.
but.
babies rarely want to stay quietly in a corner, and baby x is no different. also, babies are kind of old lady magnets. and this woman, with the past its prime beanie baby, was old. 72 years old, she said. and it seemed as though she, like the beanie baby, had seen better days. during the brief time she spent with the baron and the husband, she mentioned that her middle son died 14 years ago and that her youngest son had terminal liver and pancreatic cancer but had been refused treatment by everyone and was 'pretty well using'. 'using', in this case, meant to indicate drugs, as far as the baron could tell. also, her oldest son, did the baron mention, had been attacked by a fallen tree limb and had black and blue eyes?
it seemed that, in this case, this woman needed to gift a gently used stuffed animal to baby x MORE than the baron needed to heed her own instinct to avoid strangers. the idea that baby x
might appreciate and delight in a very large second hand teddy bear seemed to genuinely make this woman happy.]
the baron said, 'if you're sure and you don't mind, then he'd love a teddy bear.'
she made off to her car at a quick clip and returned with a black plastic bag from which she pulled a very large teddy bear. and a frog.
the woman said, 'i give away a lot of toys, at mcdonald's or arby's. i get them from friends. i give away a lot of frogs especially. see?' at this, she opened her jacket to reveal her sweatshirt: a cartoon frog, underneath which read Forever Relying On God.
[reader, let's pause this one more time.
ok. this was the moment when the baron began a mental retreat. without looking at him, the baron knew the husband was doing the same thing. baby x, on the floor with his new bear and frog - because, oh yes, she gave him one of those too - couldn't have been happier or more oblivious to the extreme religiosity happening above him.]
the baron, being not especially religious herself, made a series of oohing and aahing sounds while her brain whirred away trying to find a natural end to the situation, a graceful escape to the conversation. none came, but luck was with them:
they were called into an exam room by the nurse.
*trouble in this case having to do with hip dysplasia. the pediatrician thought baby x's hips felt fine, but based on baby x's fat folds suggested the trip to the orthopedist to be sure. the orthopedist, after a full physical examination and x-rays of baby x's hips, felt that baby x is perfectly healthy.**
**baby x needed to stay perfectly still during the x-ray; the husband and the nurse held baby x on the table to keep him still. the baron hovered outside, waiting for the x-rays to finish, and over mild grunting heard emanating from the from the room heard this from the nurse: 'this is a strong baby!'
Friday, January 14, 2011
in the 2011
reader, it's been a good long while since.
since what?
since the baron has come to this place to check in.
she has no good excuse. excuses. life and baby x are, it seems, perennially in the way.
sigh.
the baron wants to ease in slowly, so:
baby x has just now taken down the next highest row of cds on one of the two cd towers in their sunroom. this is not a particularly sturdy cd tower and needs anchoring to the wall, but in truth, the baron and the husband perhaps did not anticipate their son standing and reaching and grabbing at just 9 months old. they maybe thought they had a wee bit more time to figure things out.
the cd tower is safe for the moment, however, as baby x is now trying to reach the telephone charging cords on top of the telephone table. in the process, he has become stuck underneath the telephone table, trying repeatedly to stand up straight and finding repeatedly that the underside of the top of the table will not allow him to do so. another long day ahead.
since what?
since the baron has come to this place to check in.
she has no good excuse. excuses. life and baby x are, it seems, perennially in the way.
sigh.
the baron wants to ease in slowly, so:
baby x has just now taken down the next highest row of cds on one of the two cd towers in their sunroom. this is not a particularly sturdy cd tower and needs anchoring to the wall, but in truth, the baron and the husband perhaps did not anticipate their son standing and reaching and grabbing at just 9 months old. they maybe thought they had a wee bit more time to figure things out.
the cd tower is safe for the moment, however, as baby x is now trying to reach the telephone charging cords on top of the telephone table. in the process, he has become stuck underneath the telephone table, trying repeatedly to stand up straight and finding repeatedly that the underside of the top of the table will not allow him to do so. another long day ahead.
Tuesday, October 12, 2010
an open letter to baby x, or embrace immobility
dear baby x,
it's hard to believe you're six months old now! i want you to know that your father and i are excited and happy about your progress. it's thrilling to watch you take in your surroundings, to begin to recognize people and places.
ahem.
i want to talk to you about something, though, something that's been bothering your father and me. lately, at night, when we check on you in your crib, we find you, um, not exactly as we left you. sometimes you're moved just a little to the left or right. sometimes, you're rotated 180 degrees and have flipped from your back to your belly.
now you're exhibiting this disturbing desire to move all the time during the day as well. today, for example, i put you down for a nap in your crib. i swaddled you, as insurance that you'd stay wrapped up tight on your back. when i checked on you 20 minutes later, this is what i found:
baby x, that's you there, with your swaddling cloth wrapped all around your legs. and also, you appear to be trying to break through the bars of the crib. you appear to be smiling.
your father and i are very happy about your progress, did i mention? but, let's consider taking things down a notch, huh? i'm beginning to miss the days when you stayed put, when your arms and legs hardly flailed at all, when you were super content to lay on your back watching the ceiling fan spin.
just something to think about.
love,
the baron
it's hard to believe you're six months old now! i want you to know that your father and i are excited and happy about your progress. it's thrilling to watch you take in your surroundings, to begin to recognize people and places.
ahem.
i want to talk to you about something, though, something that's been bothering your father and me. lately, at night, when we check on you in your crib, we find you, um, not exactly as we left you. sometimes you're moved just a little to the left or right. sometimes, you're rotated 180 degrees and have flipped from your back to your belly.
now you're exhibiting this disturbing desire to move all the time during the day as well. today, for example, i put you down for a nap in your crib. i swaddled you, as insurance that you'd stay wrapped up tight on your back. when i checked on you 20 minutes later, this is what i found:
baby x, that's you there, with your swaddling cloth wrapped all around your legs. and also, you appear to be trying to break through the bars of the crib. you appear to be smiling.
your father and i are very happy about your progress, did i mention? but, let's consider taking things down a notch, huh? i'm beginning to miss the days when you stayed put, when your arms and legs hardly flailed at all, when you were super content to lay on your back watching the ceiling fan spin.
just something to think about.
love,
the baron
Tuesday, October 5, 2010
like sea turtles hatching on a beach...
when the baron was a senior in high school, she participated in academic decathlon. the details are extremely fuzzy to her now; she remembers that there were 10 areas of competition (um. duh. decathlon.), but of those 10 she remembers only the music (listen to and identify this piece of music!) and speech sections.
of the music section, she remembers nothing save this: one of the pieces was by Aram Khachaturian and she could only recognize that by the fact that it was, that year, being used for a pork commercial as well (pork! the other white meat!).
the speech, she was much better at. she crafted 5 minutes about moving on from high school to college, and the metaphor she used was sea turtles. she chose them because she liked sea turtles. they seemed sublime and content, floating out there. her speech began with baby sea turtles hatching on a beach, then moving unprotected into the ocean... like children moving on, unprotected, to college. clever, eh? (it's worth noting, maybe, that the baron lived at home all through college - college that her parents paid for; not altogether too treacherous.) when it came time to apply to college, she turned her baby sea turtle speech into, you guessed it, her application essay. she got a lot of mileage out of those sea turtles.
she still likes sea turtles. she's not the only one, and thank god for that.
of the music section, she remembers nothing save this: one of the pieces was by Aram Khachaturian and she could only recognize that by the fact that it was, that year, being used for a pork commercial as well (pork! the other white meat!).
the speech, she was much better at. she crafted 5 minutes about moving on from high school to college, and the metaphor she used was sea turtles. she chose them because she liked sea turtles. they seemed sublime and content, floating out there. her speech began with baby sea turtles hatching on a beach, then moving unprotected into the ocean... like children moving on, unprotected, to college. clever, eh? (it's worth noting, maybe, that the baron lived at home all through college - college that her parents paid for; not altogether too treacherous.) when it came time to apply to college, she turned her baby sea turtle speech into, you guessed it, her application essay. she got a lot of mileage out of those sea turtles.
she still likes sea turtles. she's not the only one, and thank god for that.
Monday, September 27, 2010
open letter to baby x: integrity
dear baby x,
this week your father had an unfortunate experience with some men with whom he had been professionally friendly. the men and your father parted ways, initiated by the men, but the situation was badly handled: common decency wasn't afford your dad. it's a shame, because some of these men have children, and i worry about the message being sent to them. integrity and courage are important, in big ways, yes, but also in small ways: everyday, common acts of kindness. perhaps it was time for your father to say goodbye; new plans abound, and he's already moved on.
baby x, we hope many good things for you: success and happiness, health and wisdom acquired in youth. we also hope that you'll walk tall, and know from an early age that the hard thing and right thing are sometimes the same thing, and that there's no shame in struggling to reconcile that fact. the shame comes when we recognize that the hard thing and the right thing are the same, yet choose instead a path of least resistance. in short, we should be ashamed when we act the coward.
i want you to know that, in spite of the sober tone i've taken, not every situation will be a challenge. fortunately, oftentimes, the right thing and the easy thing are the same thing. these are moments that you should recognize, that we will help you recognize, so that you may be more prepared and comfortable to make the hard choices that will inevitably be presented to you.
your father spent a good part of his childhood, and a good part of his adulthood, with his fist in the air, so to speak, raised in defiance. i want you to know that he has never been averse to a challenge, even when the odds were very, very clearly stacked against him. i also want you to learn from his example, and to know that while things are often shades of grey, they are also often black and white: if your father and i do our job right, the best thing to do and the right thing to do will always be clear to you.
love,
the baron
this week your father had an unfortunate experience with some men with whom he had been professionally friendly. the men and your father parted ways, initiated by the men, but the situation was badly handled: common decency wasn't afford your dad. it's a shame, because some of these men have children, and i worry about the message being sent to them. integrity and courage are important, in big ways, yes, but also in small ways: everyday, common acts of kindness. perhaps it was time for your father to say goodbye; new plans abound, and he's already moved on.
baby x, we hope many good things for you: success and happiness, health and wisdom acquired in youth. we also hope that you'll walk tall, and know from an early age that the hard thing and right thing are sometimes the same thing, and that there's no shame in struggling to reconcile that fact. the shame comes when we recognize that the hard thing and the right thing are the same, yet choose instead a path of least resistance. in short, we should be ashamed when we act the coward.
i want you to know that, in spite of the sober tone i've taken, not every situation will be a challenge. fortunately, oftentimes, the right thing and the easy thing are the same thing. these are moments that you should recognize, that we will help you recognize, so that you may be more prepared and comfortable to make the hard choices that will inevitably be presented to you.
your father spent a good part of his childhood, and a good part of his adulthood, with his fist in the air, so to speak, raised in defiance. i want you to know that he has never been averse to a challenge, even when the odds were very, very clearly stacked against him. i also want you to learn from his example, and to know that while things are often shades of grey, they are also often black and white: if your father and i do our job right, the best thing to do and the right thing to do will always be clear to you.
love,
the baron
Friday, September 3, 2010
barney doesn't live here
early in her pregnancy the baron and the husband decided that no "children's music" would darken their doorstep: no barney, no dora the explorer, no mickey mouse... you get the picture, reader, right? their only concession to baby x's age and need for soothing sounds are a series of cds called rockabye baby, which re-imagine popular songs as lullabies. they've got the beach boys, coldplay, u2, and the beatles, all retooled enough to keep baby x sleeping, but still highly and easily recognizable as music the baron and the husband actually like.
baby x and the baron share their first nursing session of the day with the amelie soundtrack, scored by yann tiersen. (they used to start the day with simon and garfunkel, until one morning when the husband happened upon them listening to 'bridge over troubled water' and suggested it was kind of heavy for the baby). lately, before his bath time and dinner time, baby x is danced around the living room by his father to 'everyday people' by sly & the family stone. sometimes it's led zepplin, and once it was the cars... but no one wanted a repeat of ric ocasek. baby x's days are filled with a playlist the baron and the husband built for baby x, containing the likes of phoenix, the rolling stones, vampire weekend, rem, the killers, the beatles, u2, coldplay, and one song by cat stevens (you can guess which one, reader, can't you?).
their house will likely, eventually, see more conventional children's music, especially once baby x gets out and about into the world. until then, though, the baron and the husband are liking their chance to shape his musical tastes. fingers crossed that what they teach him now will stick.
baby x and the baron share their first nursing session of the day with the amelie soundtrack, scored by yann tiersen. (they used to start the day with simon and garfunkel, until one morning when the husband happened upon them listening to 'bridge over troubled water' and suggested it was kind of heavy for the baby). lately, before his bath time and dinner time, baby x is danced around the living room by his father to 'everyday people' by sly & the family stone. sometimes it's led zepplin, and once it was the cars... but no one wanted a repeat of ric ocasek. baby x's days are filled with a playlist the baron and the husband built for baby x, containing the likes of phoenix, the rolling stones, vampire weekend, rem, the killers, the beatles, u2, coldplay, and one song by cat stevens (you can guess which one, reader, can't you?).
their house will likely, eventually, see more conventional children's music, especially once baby x gets out and about into the world. until then, though, the baron and the husband are liking their chance to shape his musical tastes. fingers crossed that what they teach him now will stick.
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