First Try at Chopsticks

Normally Kekoa is happy to use his primitive chopsticks (fingers) while Mom and Dad do the real thing, but last night he wanted to give them a try.

After a long battle, he put one chopstick down, popped the sashimi in his mouth with his fingers, and smiled proudly at his accomplishment.

In Which I Retire from Housekeeping

Some friends from church gifted Kekoa with a child-size vacuum cleaner, same brand as our big one.  ("We have to be quite undercover about the pick-up," my friend said, "because my kids don't know."  Somehow I don't think we'll be their favorite guests to dinner anytime soon.)

As you can see, toy vacuums require crumbled-up chips so as to be more realistic.

Fortunately, the vacuum's capacity to make actual vacuuming noises has been disabled.  Whether this is by natural causes or ruthless destruction at the hand of an annoyed parent, I cannot say.  It does, however, make a satisfying clicking sound when pushed, just loud enough to seem real and just quiet enough for me to ignore completely.

It is a rather precious thing to pull out the big vacuum cleaner and see those little legs run as fast as they can to get the little vacuum cleaner, and be followed every step of the way.  No carpet left behind.  I don't even mind the constant nipping at my heels.

I do, however, feel like a lazy slob when I stop and he looks at me disdainfully as if to say, "Sure, you may be done working, but I'm not a quitter!"  Carry on, son.  Carry on.

People are always talking about how much work kids are.  How expensive they are.  Not so, my friends. One look at my blog history tells you that I not only have someone to do my vacuuming, but someone to do my dishes,

my laundry,

my sweeping,

my dusting,

my baking,

and even my secretarial work.

'

Clearly, kids totally make sense if you're looking to retire from the housekeeping world.  No work required! So...you wanna borrow my kid for the afternoon while I get some work done?  ;)

Fall

It's been raining for two days straight and I am delighted to say that Kekoa loves the rain almost as much as I do.  Last night after dinner we went skipping down the bike trail singing The Wizard of Oz, and he was utterly thrilled.  Today he has been sitting at the window watching the drip drips on the glass, begging to go outside.

 He also seems to like other aspects of fall:

Apple cider by the gallon?  BRING IT ON!

And now that it's cool enough to use the oven, I enlisted his help with stirring while I was doing some baking. He caught on pretty quickly:

Yep, he knows almost as much about baking as I do.  Batter = delish.  :)  And no raw eggs.

This has been a really hard semester for us thus far.  The internet doesn't need any more whining than it's already got, so don't worry, I won't add to it.  But with Josh gone a lot, it is the sweetest thing in the world when he comes home and Kekoa hears the door.  Can you say JOY?

Occasionally Josh just falls asleep wherever he is...in Kekoa's room, on the couch, on the floor (he kinda works really hard).  When that last one happens, Kekoa prefers to take his nap right there with him. 

Heartmelt. <3 div="">

Teaching Firstborns to Share

Dear Son,

This month, I can see that you have grasped a cold, hard truth of the world: that eating is a zero-sum game.

I mean this: you have discovered that if I take a bite of peach, you cannot take that same bite.  Every bite for me is one bite less for you.  Sharing a mango three ways results in significantly less mango per person than if we allowed someone -- say, you -- to eat the whole thing alone.

It is not an easy truth.  But you, remarkable boy, seem to have an open-hearted generosity with your cauliflower.  I respect that.

But I have also noticed that it is much harder for you to watch the pile of pineapple on Mommy's plate dwindle away without ever reaching your plate.  Even if you have both hands and mouth full of pineapple, you desire more, more.  You must protect that precious pineapple from being subject to Mommy's appetite.

You are not wrong, I think, to surmise that you would enjoy the fruit more than Mommy would - a sort of utilitarian assumption, but true nevertheless.  It always hurts me a little to eat a nice plump tomato.  We all enjoy it more if I give it to you: you because you like your food, and me because I'm a sucker for that little full-mouthed grin you give as you beg for more.

But no.  I do not give it to you.  Do you know why?

Because, my son, you are a firstborn.  Perhaps someday--Lord willing--there will be TWO full-mouthed little grins begging for more, and then my son, I will have to give to them equally.  And even though it will still be hard for you (because sometimes it is still hard for me!), it will be less hard to resign yourself at 14 months than at 2 years, or 3 years, or 4 or 5.

A friend once said that the best thing that ever happened for their firstborn's character was the second-born.  As a second-born myself, I wholeheartedly agree.  I'm of the opinion that second-borns are God's gift to the world.

But even if you never get a second-born sibling (sorry grandparents, this was not a long-winded announcement of any sort), you still have cousins.  And you will have more cousins, and then there are other people in the world, and then someday you may even have your own little full-mouthed grinners looking up at you.  And even though sharing with them may be as easy as sharing cauliflower, you will also have to help them share with others.  THAT can be as hard as giving up mango.

And that, my son, is why I ate the last piece of mango tonight.  Sorry.

Independent

Now that I'm not posting each month about Kekoa, I take fewer pictures.  Because let's face it, about 70% of the pictures I took last year were snapped the morning I was trying to get a picture post together.  I'm not good about remembering the camera, and he's not good at posing long enough for me to get the moment anyway.

But I realized that nearly all the photos I have taken lately center around a common theme: messes.

I mean, independence.  Which just happens to be accompanied by a whooooole lot of messes.  And for being independence, it sure does seem to come with a lot of oversight necessary.

Here are a few of the new things our Chief Imitator has learned to do in the last couple months:

Drink out of a cup.

Eat with a fork or spoon.  Bonus: he's wiling to eat almost anything if he can stab it on a fork!  

The food's not that bad.  Really.

Brush his own teeth (questionably, but better than him resisting our efforts).  Incidentally, I discovered a couple weeks ago that he  is also pretty good at brushing baseboards - with the same toothbrush, of course.

Sweep, also questionably.

Dust (ditto).

Help with the baking by stirring, mixing, and taste testing.  I don't think we'll be sharing our baked goods anytime soon, though - our sanitation standards aren't quite up to snuff.

And that is the story of how our general, everyday tasks like eating and cleaning suddenly seem to take three times as long, but have twice the excitement as usual.

(And why yes, those last three pictures were all snapped this morning.  I told you I'm not good at remembering.)

What My Parents Did: Teaching Kids to Manage Money

When I was very little, we got a small allowance along normal lines - my older brother and I had piggy banks and we would occasionally get dollar bills or coins to put inside.  Really, the excitement was more with the piggy banks than it was with the money.

But when each of us reached an age when we could do basic addition and subtraction (usually around 6 years), we switched to the "register" system.

The register system was rather an adult way to do things because all our money was imaginary.  None of it ever actually crossed our hands (a sneaky way for Dad to keep full control of the actual spending!).  My dad gave each of us a check register, which we kept exactly how you would keep a checkbook.  Each month, my dad would add our allowance.  Any purchases we made (we were taught to religiously keep receipts until they can be logged in - I still do this obsessively, and passed that little habit on to Josh) were subtracted from the total.

Story of my Childhood

We got an allowance on a graduated scale based on our age, but it was substantially larger than that of our peers - I didn't like telling other kids what I got because they would inevitably open their eyes saucer-wide and say, "Whoa, that's not fair! I only get five dollars a month!"

There was a catch, however: we were responsible for buying everything.  We were responsible for managing our money to buy clothes, toys, sporting equipment, athletic fees, attendance to camps and clubs, birthday and Christmas gifts, shoes, etc.

One of my friends complained profusely about her "tiny" allowance.  "I'm so jealous!" she said.  I, on the other hand, was busy gaping at the biggest Beanie Baby collection I had ever seen, and drooling over her American Girl horse to go with her three AG dolls, complete with bedroom sets and every accessory ever.  What exactly did she use her allowance for, I wondered?

Obviously, we didn't have to pay for everything: food, rent and utilities, and school supplies/activities, but if we wanted any special treats or supplies, those came out of our discretionary income.  We also paid for our misdeeds: windows we had broken, lamps that were shattered, lights left on during vacation, chores left undone (we eventually had to do them anyway, but were charged at Mom's pay rate for her time disciplining us).

We learned the value of money pretty quickly.  The ice cream truck lost its appeal when we realized that we could buy an entire box at Costco for the same price.  I took horseback riding lessons for a summer, cleaned out my life's savings in three months for the privilege of mucking stalls, and promptly switched to a cheaper sport (running).  My brothers, more attached to their sport of choice, learned that taking good care of baseball bats, cleats, and mitts helped them last longer.  When we got our licenses, we discovered the joy of car insurance.  If we went out with our friends to dinner and a movie, we'd ask Dad for cash.  Inevitably, it was already subtracted by the time we got home.

The system taught a lot of life lessons at once: how to manage a check book, how to budget for savings and tithe and gifts, and how to prioritize activities and costs.  For big desires, we learned to wait until Christmas or birthdays.  I was lucky, with a summer birthday; my brothers with December birthdays waited all year.

Bonus lesson: we were also allowed to lend money to our siblings.  Interest is great- when you're on the right side of it!  And we learned that borrowing from family and friends is wrought with potential conflicts.

I envision us using the same system for our kids.  We'll take the amount we budget each month for the kids and pass it on to them to handle.  One big change though: I think we'll buy them a few wardrobe basics each year. Anything they want beyond that - accessories, trendy clothes, extra shoes - will be their responsibility.  I know that occasionally my unwillingness to buy new clothes caused fights:

"But I thought you gave us this money so we could manage our needs!"
"Yes, and I've decided that you need new clothes.  You may not wear jeans with holes in them!"
"Okay, well, these ones are fine.  And I don't need a new shirt."
"No, those don't fit well.  Try these ones. And you do need a new shirt because you can't wear the same three shirts every single day."
"But Mooooom!  These ones cost twice as much!"
"But they don't make you look like a ragamuffin!"

Yeah.  I think we'll definitely be buying some wardrobe basics for our kids.  But I don't think my parents anticipated me being quite so...uninterested...in clothes.

So. Kekoa and his possible future siblings are unwitting future victims of Dad's register scheme.  I wonder how he'll feel about it when it's his grandchildren learning about scarcity of resources?

Either way, I know they'll learn one thing quickly: you can always look forward to birthdays and Christmas.

On Being Gluten-Free (Which We're Not)

A Facebook friend of mine posted this article last week and I can't get it out of my head.  Essentially, it's on the popularity of the gluten-free diet these days.  The author, comparing it to the popularity of MSG-intolerance a while back, postulates that in many cases, gluten intolerance is mainly psychosomatic.  You get the idea that certain foods are bad for you, then you start noticing symptoms ranging from indigestion to the inability to breathe - which he believes is a result of the placebo effect.  You may be experiencing real symptoms, but they're created by your mind.

Interesting, no?

First of all, I do agree that gluten-intolerance is somewhat of a fad right now.  I suspect not everyone off gluten is actually intolerant of it.  Second, I think that's a great thing for those who actually have celiac's disease or are allergic to wheat.  There's a whole industry giving them more options!  And the increased awareness means that eating with others is an easier experience (sometimes).

We're not gluten-free.  Our diet is not too far from it - most allergy-friendly recipes automatically cut out gluten.  Regardless, Kekoa's dairy and egg allergies make a similar point.

Consider the classic church potluck.  This is what Kekoa and I can't eat:

• Potato Salad
• Macaroni Salad
• Fruit ambrosia
• Salads and slaws with creamy dressings (caesar, Ranch, Blue cheese, etc.)
• Almost any Mexican or Italian dish (usually have cheese)
• Fried foods
• Some hot dog and burger brands (some contain eggs)
• Some hot dog or burger bun brands
• Some deli meats
• Flavored chips (sour cream and onion, nacho, etc.)
• Cream based chip dips
• Sweet breads
• Cakes
• Cookies
• Brownies
• Ice cream
• Chocolate (dark only...but who brings dark chocolate to a potluck?)

And this is what we can eat:

• Veggies
• Salads and slaws with oil, vinegar, or citrus based dressings
• Fruit
• Tortilla chips with salsa or guacamole
• Baked Beans
• 100% Beef Burgers (with condiments other than mayo)

You get the idea.  THAT'S the power of the gluten/egg/dairy-free diet.  We don't gorge on potluck foods.  We can't walk down the aisle of convenience foods.  We don't help ourselves to baked goods at a friend's house. 

I make no claims to being dairy- and gluten- intolerant.  But I feel better after eliminating or cutting back on those foods because that automatically eliminates 90% of accessible junk food (you can, of course, buy or make your own junk food alternatives, but they're expensive and/or time-consuming).  

Additionally, even though I don't think dairy is all bad for you, it is heavy and can be difficult to digest (wheat is the same).  And I never realized HOW MUCH the typical American diet includes until we cut it out. 

I can completely understand someone kickstarting a diet by going gluten-free. Dieting based on self-control is too personal.  It requires too much work, and carries with it a sense of shame if you fail.  Dieting based on a medical condition - or heck, even just a hard-to-digest food - is so appealing.

Not only is a medical condition easier to diet with, but people are much more understanding.  I would feel like such a high maintenance little princess asking our host to accommodate a dairy-free diet based on my personal opinion of "healthy."  I'd probably be labelled an obsessed, misguided health nut.  But people are happy to accommodate allergies.  

Why is that important?  Because I can attest that the absolute, most difficult part of dieting - for allergies or otherwise - is watching people eat the foods you love and not being able to eat them.  I rather enjoyed our diet until we had to leave the home.  Eating at restaurants can be torture, as you pick from your tiny store of bland options ("sorry, you can't have anything on the dessert menu") while others feast on rich, creamy dishes.

It also matters how people react to your food choices.  Even I have gotten flak: "Well, why don't you just wean him?  Then we could give him baby food or something and cook normally for everyone else."    We're trying to do a healthy thing here - but people don't like to be inconvenienced by our choices.

*sigh*

Anyway, that's my semi-rant.  Yes, I do agree with the article - I think that gluten intolerance is sometimes not actually initiated by the body.  But going gluten-free, at least for a time? Well, I don't think that's such a bad idea.  We've learned so much more about what we put in our mouths, how it affects our bodies long-term, and how little variety the Western diet actually has.  

I hope to once again have dairy and eggs grace our kitchen, someday.  But in the meantime, we're learning how to incorporate different foods in our everyday diet.  So maybe next time, some of those not-so-good foods will stay out for good.

Cured

For the first twenty three years of my life, I suffered from an acute sleep disorder.  My family, roommates, and husband, however, seemed not to take it very seriously.  In fact they rather seemed to enjoy it.

True, certain events did seem to add a little spice to life.  For example:

• My pillow mysteriously turning up in various places all over the house - my brothers' bathroom, the couch, my dad's office.
• The time the jet plane crashed into our dorm room and I implored my roommate to help me "pick up all the little crystal bubbles" that were scattered in our room as a result.
• The time I shared a room with my Grandma on vacation and sat on her in the middle of the night.  Fortunately, her heart is fine.
• The time my roommate, convinced I was asleep, absolutely refused to make eye contact or conversation with me to prevent any odd behaviors.  (the next morning: "Haha, last night you just insisted that you were awake.  It was so funny"  "Um.  I was awake. Just using the restroom.")
• The time Rodents of Unusual Size (or possibly snakes) swarmed into our apartment through our window AC unit and I woke Josh up to save us.  He, confused and clearly not comprehending the danger, proceeded to rifle through the picnic basket.  I was livid that he would mess around with a picnic basket while leaving me exposed to the ROUS's (or snakes).
• The (two!) times I read Dracula.  HUGE mistake for a sleepwalker.

But for the last thirteen months I've been absolutely incident free.  No mysterious pillow migrations, no nocturnal wanderings, nothing.  And there haven't even been any recorded incidents of sleeptalking.

Yes, I think I can finally say that I'm cured.  I owe it all to Kekoa, I think.  Something about that maternal instinct that is always aware, even in sleep, of the presence of a little person that needs protection.  I thought at first that when we moved him out of our room I might start up again, but nope.  If anything, I sleep even more lightly.

So hurrah!  It's nice to not worry about where you'll end up by morning.

In case you thought long luscious locks were all fun and games...

Warm summer afternoons + naptime = this.

"If I smile will you leave the tangles alone?"

In other news, the new words are coming steadily now.  We get to see not just what we say often, but what he interprets them as meaning.  Sometimes quite revealing as to how he's learned to get our attention/affection.

For example: "I did it!" ("dadatet") means, "I need praise and affirmation and attention, so I'm going to do this thing that I think you'll be proud of and then come get my hug!"   

"I got you" ("agachoo!") means "Hey, can you get off the computer and play tickle fight instead? I'll start things off by grabbing your feet" (An unfortunate discovery on his part: my feet are highly reactive)  :/

"Amen" ("hahama") means "This is a weird kind of peek-a-boo.  Why don't we just say peek-a-boo like usual?  But whatever, I'll play along."  (bonus points: I can say that my child says "Amen" at the end of a prayer.  See what good spiritual parents we are?  Never mind that he thinks it's a game...)

"Mama baby" ("mama behbeh") means "Pick me up please, I need some nurturing!"  Usually accompanied by the universal "pick me up" sign of upraised arms.  After a few days of this, I suddenly started noticing that when he's hurt, I say, "Come here, baby" and then cuddle him.

I really enjoy this phase - it's fun and helpful that he can tell us whether he wants more food, his water, or Daddy.  He can also tell us if he very much disagrees with our decisions.  Fun times.

Summer Doldrums

I love summer.

More accurately, I love the concept of summer.  It's the reality that I don't love so much.

I also love storms.  I love walking in the rain, watching it pour off the roof in sheets, listening to the thunder.

More accurately, I love the concept of storms.  In reality, I'm one of those people who tends to get migraines when the barometric pressure changes.  And then I pout on the couch and wish I could go walk in the rain, but expend all my energy trying to keep my brains from exploding outside of my skull.

We've had a lot of storms in the last couple weeks.  After three straight days of thunderstorms last week, I emerged, groggy and morose, to discover that my kitchen looked like this:

And the rest of the house looked like this:

 And then a couple nights ago Kekoa refused to eat and had a low fever, which I attributed to teething.  He was fine yesterday morning except for some congestion.  And then around noon I discovered that his temp was 102.7.  Forget the housework - we spent the afternoon rocking in the rocking chair while he sat limply in my lap.  Once the acetaminophen kicked in, he felt well enough to yell every time I put him down.  Poor little guy.

So for the Fourth this year, we're doing...nothing.  Absolutely, gloriously nothing.  I think we're a little bit in survival mode right now, and a day off is a wonderful thing.  So we're dressed in red, white, and blue, eating waffles, and vegging.  I heard a rumor that family naptime might be in store for this afternoon...woohoo!!!  We know how to par-TAY.

Happy Fourth!

12,000 Words (more or less)

Kekoa said no self-respecting mommy would put her son to work on his birthday.  Hogwash, I say, but still, the excitement of gifts seems to have drained his creativity.  And I'm not sure if he'll be writing any more posts.  Maybe he'll guest-post occasionally.

But to tide over the wild clamoring fans (grandmas) out there, I present to you the story of his life:
[edit: whoops, I skipped a month and mislabeled some of the pictures accordingly.  all fixed now.]

One week

1 month

2 months

3 months

4 months

5 months

6 months

7 months

8 months

9 months

11 months 

12 months

12 months

Goodbye Hawaii

We're back (and just about time adjusted, but still sleep-deprived) after our trip to Hawaii and California.  And it was lovely.

*Apparently, to Hawaiian mosquitoes I am an exotic delicacy.  And apparently Josh and Kekoa, having Hawaiian blood, are not??  You're welcome, everyone, for being tastier than you.

*Somehow after 13 days of beach and pool time, we managed to avoid sunburning Kekoa's fair skin.  And then in the very last four hours before we got on the plane...bam!  Sunburn!

*I packed the camera.  And then the night before we left Kekoa did something cute and I wanted to take a picture.  And then I forgot to repack the camera.  Ergo: NOT A SINGLE PICTURE OF HAWAII.  I feel sick about this.  We did get family portraits done with Josh's whole family, so at least there's something, but please, somebody tell me they took a few of the day-to-day shots.  Please???  Fortunately, when Kekoa is around my Mom has a camera plastered to her face, so we have plenty of CA pictures.

*Kekoa has nine - yes, nine - living great-grandparents.  And as of June 1st, he has met every single one.

*After spending multiple hours in church cry rooms for various church, graduation, and baccalaureate events (we were out late a lot), I feel that there needs to be a public service announcement.  So, ahem.  Here goes.

When you are in an unfamiliar church, please please please assume that any windows/mirrors in the back are cry rooms.  Please assume that there are people IN the cry rooms.  And therefore, do not:

• Check to see if there's anything in your teeth.
• Adjust your undergarments.
• Suck in your stomach and turn sideways to check your figure.
• Touch up your lipstick (my goodness, the facial expressions!)
• Do your stretching exercises or dance with the music (really, people?  Do you have to zumba during the service?  Bonus points for making me laugh my head off, though)
• Pace back and forth when there's a slideshow going on.
• Plaster your rear end against the glass and lean on it obliviously while my little brother is speaking!  Trust me, it's awkward to figure how to get you to move.  Tapping on the glass just seemed a little too...personal.    

  So the moral of the story is: be paranoid of mirrors.  You never know when they're one-way. 

Just a few things.

I like warmer weather and all, but a part of me mourns the winter days when missing a spot while shaving doesn't matter.  Also, toe nail polish.  I really dislike painting my toe nails.

~~~~~

As I write, the child is eating...raw onions.  He's an odd one. Maybe I need to stop trying to get him to eat beef and chicken and need to start giving him things like liver and headcheese.  He seems to prefer really strong, almost obnoxious flavors.

~~~~~~

Really, this whole kinda-sorta-vegan is a lot more fun that I thought it would.  It's been amazing enough that I think we'll stick with the low dairy diet even when/if he outgrows his allergy.  If we do eat dairy, it will probably be yogurt.  I always blamed produce for being too expensive, but actually without dairy products eating up our budget we have produce coming out of our ears.

But note: don't just cut dairy cold turkey.  Either cut back slowly or go through a full detox diet.  We all got pretty sick.

~~~~~

In my generation it's very trendy to be creative and do your own projects, cook your own food, alter your own clothes (or get them from thrift shops), etc.  I think that's a great trend.

What I don't think is a great trend is the compulsive need to post every single little outfit/meal/DIY project on Facebook/Pinterest/Instagram.  It makes me wonder: do we actually value creativity, artistry, or frugality?  Or do we just want the praise for doing the trendy thing?

I understand it for small businesses and blogs dedicated to a particular thing, but we seem to have an inordinate need that our work be applauded.

~~~~~~

My pastor posted an article (sorry, I can't find it) the other day.  I really appreciate that he passes on really great thoughts each week.  This particular article was written to parents; essentially it says that we are the guardians of our child's cyberpresence.  The pictures and statuses we post may not go away. So don't post anything that you wouldn't post if your 13-year-old child was standing over your shoulder.  That was a little convicting.

~~~~~

Avocado.  Oh my goodness. I made chocolate avocado pudding the other day, and it was AMAZING.  One drawback: it looked horrible.  I wouldn't ever serve it to a guest because of the look.  The recipe I used didn't include almond milk, though, so maybe it would be creamier and smoother with the milk.  So what do you think: would you try something like this?

Nearly a Year

Hello grandmothers, friends, family, fans!  It's time for another update from yours truly.  This has been a GREAT month for me!

11 Months

Mommy has been discovering this month what I've known all along: I am a born vegan.  I love being egg and dairy free.  Unfortunately, Mommy can't seem to come to terms with my chosen lifestyle and keeps trying to get me to eat this awful disgusting stuff called meat.

You would think she'd be okay with my veganism, because while I'm very picky about meats and breads, I enjoy the wide world of fruits and vegetables.  My absolute favorite is watermelon - I get so excited when I see those red cubes of juicy goodness! Other favorites are zucchini, cucumber, corn, tomato, apple, sunflower seeds, and apricot.   I also eat salad greens (especially cabbage), but you'd better have lots of time to spare when you feed it to me!  I have eight teeth now, but they're just not the same as molars.

Eating salad without molars is an art form.

As the genius that I am, I figured out a way to get a tasty snack whenever I want: during my meals, I drop little bits of food over the side of my highchair.  Then when I'm hungry during the day, I just help myself!  It's a foolproof plan, except for one catch: the chair itself.  Turns out I can get under the chair, but I can't get out.    Even more treacherous: the chair seems to magnetically draw my favorite toys under it, dooming us all to entrapment.

"Really?  Do you have to take pictures right now?"

Speaking of entrapment, I live for the times when I get to go outside.  The first thing I like to do in the mornings and last thing I do at night is sit on Mommy and Daddy's bed and look out the window while Mommy brushes her teeth.  On Wednesdays I can see a trash truck come and that's the highlight of my week!

Bedtime ritual

Unfortunately, Mommy insists that I must stay in for large portions of the day.  I take solace in my friend Pooh Bear.  He loves kisses, and unlike Daddy, he doesn't complain in the slightest when I accidentally bite or the kiss is too wet.

"Could you spare a small smackerel?"

I've been told many times this month that I'm very busy.  Well of course I am!  What, do you think the box is going to play with itself?

Sadly, Mommy does like me to cease my important activities during diaper changes, for some unfathomable reason.  So I read to myself.  I even say the words and stop when I'm turning the pages.

This next month will be a big one: before I turn one year old I get to visit Nana and Papa and Grandma and Grandpa!  I can't wait to see everyone and go to the beach and be adored.  In the meantime, Daddy and I are sending lots of aloha your way!

That's supposed to be a wave.  Or a fist bump.

Yours truly,
Kekoa

How to Spend a Fortune By Baking from Scratch

START

Step 1: RSVP to party.  Ask what you can bring.

Step 2:  Make sure the host(ess) asks you to bring bread.

Step 3: Toy between buying bread and baking bread.  When the weather is cool earlier in the week, commit to baking bread.  Foolishly talk through your decision with someone who will be at party.

Step 4:  Ask a friend for a bread recipe.  Make sure (s)he swears it is the easiest, most foolproof bread recipe in the world.

Step 5:  Discover that the weather is in the mid-80s.  Reconsider buying bread.

Step 6:  Remember that you SAID you were going to bake bread and you can't let the masses down.

Step 7: Prepare the dough.  Use every last bit of your flour up. Notice that everything goes exactly as planned - this is gonna be great!

Step 8: Preheat the oven.  Cry.

Step 9: Put the dough in the oven.

Step 10:  Cry some more.  Dig portable fan out of closet.

Step 11: Discover that foolproof bread is doughy on the inside, almost burned on the outside, and flat.  And it smells like...yeast.

Step 12: Have a flashback to days with a newborn.

Step 13: Decide that no way, no how are you serving anything that can induce flashbacks to days with a newborn.

Step 14: Remember that all your flour is gone, so you can't bake anything else.

Step 15:  Discover that you forgot to turn the oven off.

Step 16: Go to store. Buy questionably fresh bread at astronomically high price.

Step 17: Remember that you had a salad for lunch.  Think about how small that salad was.

Step 18:  Buy the bread.  All the bread.

Step 19:  Unwilling to leave the store's air conditioning, walk up and down each aisle to prolong the visit.  Remember your empty flour container.  Buy more flour.

Step 20:   Visit the produce section.  Buy the produce.  All the produce.  Except the onions.  No onions.

Step 21:  Well, maybe green onions.

END

and I never knew... (part 1)

Dear Mom,

I always knew you weren't the worst Mom in the world (even those frequent teenaged days when I was pretty sure you weren't the best), but I never knew for what and how much I should be grateful. 

I always knew labor was no fun, but I never knew that I should be grateful for the heartburn and pressure and itching and swelling of pregnancy.

I always knew babies had to be fed and cuddled, but I never knew that "sleeping through the night" once didn't mean the baby would always sleep through the night from that point on.

I always knew toddlers required constant attention, but I never knew how tempting it is to let little things slide to avoid the fight.

I always knew parenting had to roll with the punches, but I never knew how many punches there were.

So, thank you.

Thank you for rushing home to get me in my crib for my nap every day. Sorry I was such an inflexible little squirt (still am - you and Josh can sympathize on this one!)

Thank you for saying "no" to me often and quickly.  Thank you for disciplining me even when it would have been easier to let some things go.

Thank you for not saying "no" to everything.  Thank you for allowing me the freedom to bonk my head and make a mess.

Thank you for making me laugh ten thousand times.  Thank you for loving my baby smile.

Thank you for putting me in the sling, even when it made your shoulders ache, and letting my spirited-but-shy self enjoy the view without the dangers.

Thank you for saving my life from a well-meaning two-year-old on the basement stairs.

Thank you for giving me the freedom to destroy what was mine, rather than controlling my possessions.  Six years later, Claudia's smooth bald head was still a comfort to me.

And most of all, thank you for not being so tired of me that you put the brakes on having more kids.  The best gifts you ever gave me were my brothers-turned-best-friends. 

(well, and the hockey sticks were pretty amazing, too).

Happy Mother's Day.  < 3

And the verdict is:

Eggs, milk, and peanuts.

Those are the culprits and have been causing the horrible red itchiness on my baby for the past five months.

Both Kekoa and I are on an egg-free, diary-free, peanut-free diet, and my goodness, he's like a completely different baby.

1.  The eczema is nearly gone.  There's still a little in his elbow and knee creases, and this morning this was an itty-bitty patch on his neck.  But for the first time in months, his torso is baby soft.

2.  He's eating better.  The doctor said his mouth and nose were swollen from the allergens.  He's never been a good eater and spit a lot of food out, but we're seeing improvement in that area!  He's accepting new foods readily.  He still refuses some foods we had previously given him - I'm thinking maybe he associates their tastes with discomfort?  So he's still not a *great* eater, but I feel for the first time he's getting a significant amount of nutrition from solid food.

3.  He's sleeping better.  The combo of the itchiness and the poor eating led to frequent night wake-ups where he was either hungry or needed a lotion application.  And now for three nights in a row he's slept 8 hours!  He hasn't slept that well since before he was mobile and burning more calories.

4.  He's, er, functioning better.  His little digestive system seems to have figured things out!

My initial reaction was relief.  I first noticed reflux-like symptoms at two weeks, when he had crying fits where he arched his back often.  I went on a total elimination diet, slowly introducing things back in.  But as he got older, he spit up more and screamed less, so I never knew if the problem was solved.

I second-guessed myself a lot regarding that.  No one else was ever there for the screaming episodes, so sometimes I wondered whether I had imagined it.  Maybe all babies cried like that?  Maybe I was clueless as to his baby language?  Maybe I wasn't fulfilling his needs so he kept crying?

And now I know!  He actually did have reflux based on food sensitivities.  While I'm not happy about that, it is relieving to know that my mommy intuition is happily intact, and that I wasn't just ignoring some other need that he had.  :)

Anyway, I'm actually getting quite excited about this whole diet change.  It's a good motivation to scrutinize our diet and eat healthier.  I have to get creative about making up the missing nutrients and proteins from other food sources, but most baked goods are automatically out.  That's not a bad thing.  

According to that all-trusty source the internet, a significant number of kids grow out of milk and egg allergies by the time they're four.  About 86% of kids grow out of them by sixteen.  So we're hoping that eventually he won't have to be the kid at birthday parties who isn't allowed to eat the cake.

On the other hand, only 20% ever outgrow peanut allergies.  It's nice to meet you, almond butter.

10 Months

Hello friends, family and fan!  I'm ten months old, and I personally think that officially qualifies me as a toddler.  Poor Mommy is in denial though - she says I'm definitely still a baby and I definitely need at least two naps a day.  So there's room for progress. 

I've discovered that I have a knack for negotiation.  I find random boring things laying around the house and I hold them hostage until Mommy trades me some super-awesome toy.  Once I found this rectangle of weird green paper with a picture of some old dude on the front.  I was just about to start chewing on it (a sure way to get the negotiation process moving quickly!), when Mommy offered me an awesome bubble-blowing gun instead.  As if weird green paper would EVER be as good as a bubble-blowing gun!

"What, you'll trade me brightly colored plastic for the camera case and cord?  Let's make this trade before you rethink it!"

One thing I definitely DON'T like: cows!  Evil, terrifying things.  I have this horror picture book (why why WHY would they make a horror book for babies?) that has a picture of a cow that says "Mooooo."  When Mommy reads it to me and makes the cow sound, I cry.  It's just so awful!

Fortunately, some books are not of the horror genre.

Other than all that, life is just business as usual: napping,



helping with the laundry,

And by "helping", I mean "pulling it off the drying rack."  

and just hanging around.  I love waving hello - but I don't get those reserved little itty bitty waves most people do.  I much prefer flapping my whole arm up and down like a chicken wing.  If you're happy to see someone,  you should show it!

I've been preparing to play with Uncle Phil when I see him next month, but Mommy isn't very good at taking pictures of a toddler playing with a ball.

Mommy is, however, good at growing eyes in the back of her head.  They just kinda showed up one day at a very inconvenient time:

"Whaddya mean I can't pull down the photo albums?"

Fortunately, I'm training to go into stealth mode:

Batman adopts Superman's style advice regarding underwear

Ah well, I suppose eyes-in-the-back-of-the-head are a small price to pay for endless snuggles.  And back scratches.  I LOVE back scratches.

Easter

That's all, folks!  See you next month!