Small sign she's getting bigger

Anni made Thai chicken stir-fry for dinner tonight. The three of us ate it.

By the book -- or not

Elise still has the major crud -- hacking cough, runny nose, frequently tired, etc.
For some odd reason, we decided this would be a good time to cut out the evening bottle, that comforting 5 oz. of warm formula that tops her off before she slumbers.
This will not surprise some of you (that's directed at you, grandparents), but there generally is a lot of thinking -- overthinking? -- involved in just about every baby-related decision in this house.
This decision? Yeah, there was no overthinking this time.
Last night Anni suggested we try giving Elise formula with her dinner, rather than before she goes to bed. I agreed, deferring to her inherently wise motherly judgment. Frankly, though, my consent was as much the result of my excitement at the thought of having to wash just one (morning) bottle daily.
So this morning, after a surprisingly peaceful night of sleep (for all three of us) that was not preceded by an evening bottle, Anni was flipping through the baby bible when she came across the following suggestion about weaning from the bottle.
I'm going to quote it because it's so good: "Time it right. Don't wean your baby from the bottle if he or she is sick, very tired... "
Ha!
Now, we're only on night #2 without an evening bottle, but she went down just fine and is sound asleep.
Anni said that I should not get too excited, that Elise could realize tomorrow or the following night that we had pulled a fast one on her while she was doped up on antibiotics.
I doubt it. I'm prepared to bid the before-bed bottle adieu.
Now, about that morning bottle...

The walker

This is Elise and her walker. At least, that's what I call it.
I didn't even know this type of toy existed, but now I'm excited that she has it. She likes it, too. (Thanks for the gift, Mary Kay.)
Here's why I'm excited: If she keeps using it and gets better at walking behind it, it is not unreasonable to think she could push a little golf club cart around the course this spring. Just 9 holes, though. You don't want to overdue it when they're young.

Looking rough

It was the throaty hack that gave it away. The kind that reddens the face and causes tears to swell in the eyes. Oh, the fever, exhaustion and all-around sluggishness also gave it away: Elise is sick.
She developed the robust cough last week and by Sunday night, was coughing hard and frequently and was generally unhappy.
By this morning she was hacking up small organs and looking just plain miserable.
Anni took her to the doctor, who said her lungs sound OK but she has a respiratory bug. Then the doctor peered into Elise's right ear and had this observation: "Ouch. That doesn't look good."
You guessed it: another ear infection. It's only her second, but this one caught us by surprise. Last time she had one, she had been rubbing her ear and tugging on it. Even I could figure that out.
This time, though, we didn't expect she would have an ear infection.
She's working her way through it all, with 8 ml of help from amoxicillin twice daily.
At least we know the hacking is from bacteria, not Basics.

Nibble me this...

Anni had this to say when she came home from work recently:
"Our child tried to bite another child again today."
Swell. Where to begin? The fact that she tried to bite another kid, or that she tried again?
I know, I know. It's not unheard of for young kids to bite or pinch one another. But what do you do when you have to use two hands to count the number of times it's occurred?
You turn to humor, I guess.
"If Elise were a Batman villain, she'd be The Nibbler," Anni said.
Wisecracks aside, we're trying hard to nip this biting habit. Again, I know, I know. Many kids do it and just because she did it a few times at 11 months doesn't mean she's going to chomp on her fleshy-armed fellow kindergartners. But still.
It reminds me of one of my greatest fears. (I have two; the other is an ice cream famine.) I fear that, despite our best efforts, we will raise a child who turns out to be that kid, the one who bites for no reason or commits other random bratty acts.
Am I getting a little ahead of myself, a bit carried away? Sure, but you would too if you saw Elise, agape with tiny chompers visible, lunging toward your neck.

Seriously, child. Already?

Like every other major development so far, this one came as a surprise.
Elise has been using the steps to pull herself up to a standing position, but then she just stands there and tries to tinker with the night light. That was her M.O. until tonight, when we looked over at her and she was kneeling on the first step and looking nowhere but up.
She got more adventurous and soon was on the third step.
Frankly, I'm not thrilled about this achievement. But I think there is an upside to this. She'll be more capable of helping when we refinish the stairs.
I can picture it now: "Hey, Elise, please go up and remove that 7th tread."

D'oh!

The cool, pasty, fresh odor still triggers a particular memory for me:
Standing at the check-out lane at the North St. Paul Target store. My age is in the single digits, my attention focused intently on the impulse-purchase items. They all look so good -- how do they know to put all those toys at my height, anyway? I spot the small containers of Play-Doh and the Silly Putty eggs. They'd be so fun. I can smell the Play-Doh through the container, and I envision flattening the Silly Putty on the kitchen table with my palm...
OK, snap out of it!
So did I leave the store with either toy? I don't recall, but it's that vivid image of small Play-Doh containers stocked on Target-red shelving that I remember.
That memory came back to me the other day as Anni and I were trying to keep Elise from eating the Play-Doh that we let her play with for the first time.
Is she too young for Play-Doh? Nah, so long as you make sure she doesn't assume it's dessert.
She actually had a pretty good time picking it up, crushing it, rolling it and trying to get it off her fingertips.
And, yes, I smelled the stuff to see if it's changed. It hasn't.

Myotonic? Nah, just ticked

You've probably heard of fainting goats. If you haven't, check out this brief video before watching the video I uploaded to this post.
If you are familiar with those creatures -- they're actually called myotonic goats -- you still should check out the linked video.
Watched it yet? OK, now let me explain. It's pretty simple, really: For the past couple of weeks we've been raising our own fainting goat.
The only difference is that the real goats "faint" because of a nerve condition. Ours drops to the ground like a fainting goat because of an attitude condition.
Anni gets credit for making the connection. So guess who will get the blame if this is an early-onset temper tantrum?

A good sign

Elise has been learning basic "baby sign language" for several months, and is starting to catch on. (I was skeptical at first that this works and is useful, but I converted.)
She is being taught basic signs by us and by the teachers at school: water, thank you, milk, no, mom, dad and more.
We have seen her sign, but it often is, well, sloppy. It's not quite the right sign, but it's close enough for someone in a diaper.
Yesterday I was feeding her lunch. She had cleaned her tray of the bread and cottage cheese. I turned to look at her and she was staring at me and making an absolutely perfect sign for "more." You could have taken a picture of her gesture and slapped it in a book as an example -- of course, you first would have to remove the mashed bread bits from between her fingers.
Well, this little episode was pretty exciting. Oh, sure, like I said, we've seen her sign before and she signs at school. I told Anni about it when she got home, but I could not explain why it was any different than when she has signed before.
And maybe it was no different, except that it finally clicked for me: She wanted something, knew that to get more of it she had to do something other than cry, so did that. Basic communication -- it's very underrated.
There was an even more exciting development today, though.
I took Elise to Menards. I put her in the cart and we wandered around the store, including making the required stroll through the jaw-droppingly fascinating lighting section.
After finding my items, we were nearing the checkout lanes. I paused for a moment. I looked down at Elise. She looked up and gestured for "more."
I'm sure we'll make that trip again.

Stripes and suds

Going through the motions

The scene: The dining table. Two parents seated, eating dinner. Child, sitting in high-chair, eating dinner.

The action: With no warning, child ralphs her dinner. It's carrots and peas, of course -- what else is disgorged? But in graceful, waterfall-like motion, puke conveniently lands only on high-chair tray and in catch-all pocket of child's washable bib.

The reaction: Parents, seemingly unfazed, watch without saying a word. Huh, they think to themselves, she looked just fine a minute ago. They look at each other, then look back at the child, who is staring at them. Parents get up and instinctively split clean-up duties, saying nothing.

Noel at 9 months

Did she understand it? Probably not.
If you were 9 months old, would you understand why your dad dragged into the living room a big green thing and started pouring water on it? Would you understand why your mom arranged little people, farm animals and a baby on the table out of your reach even though they look like toys? And what's with the big boxes scattered on the floor?
We've been asked if Elise enjoyed Christmas. I suppose. She was in good spirits and dealt well with the 17 people she saw in one day. She decided that gift bows taste pretty good, too.
Christmas should be even more enjoyable next year, when Elise figures out that some of the boxes under the big green thing are for her.

I guess we could have just wrapped up some ribbon for her.

Elise, Grandpa Winter and the, uhm, gosh-darned prettiest ornament to adorn a Christmas tree.

Reading a new book from G and G Wente.

At the Winter Christmas.

The sock monkey that family friend Jane made for Elise was an instant hit.

Sock monkey-mauling is a sign of affection.

I can't figure out why Elise always is the only one who listens when I say, "Now, look away from the camera."

I'm not sure what this was all about.

Getting reacquainted with Great Grandma Winter.

Bumper sticker: "At least my kid can find her way out of a paper bag."

I look like I've never held this girl before.

I guess we could have just wrapped up a remote control for her.

Snowed in -- and not minding it

It snowed here in the last 24 hours. It probably was not a storm for the record books, but a good several inches with more on the way Christmas day.
What's the young family to do on Christmas Eve, when the forecast calls for a few more inches of snow and skating-rink-like roadways after dark?
Stay put.
So that's what we did. We decided to hunker down with the baby, good food and drink and enjoy a peaceful holiday at home. Plenty of time for hustling tomorrow.
It worked out well. The mild temperature provided us an opportunity to introduce Elise to snow.
And as luck would have it, Santa went to the hardware store today after he was done working and found the best looking sled on the shelf. It's simple, plastic, red, kind of old school. It was an early Christmas gift to the ladies of the house, who were itching to get outside.
After getting pulled in the sled up and down the driveway and around the backyard, Elise seemed to enjoy -- pleasantly tolerate? -- the experience.
You have to introduce kids to snow as early as possible. That's why, after such a promising outing today, I'm taking Elise snowboarding next weekend.
In the meantime, Merry Christmas.

Womb humor

Anni, Bryan and I were doing a little armchair geneticizing today, trying to determine who Elise got her features from. You know, eyes, nose, face, etc.
Then Anni said something that would really leave you scratching your head. She was talking about the seemingly random way babies inherit looks and genetics from family:
"I picture my womb as a slot machine," Anni said, obviously getting our attention.
"Ding! 'You get Grandma's eyes,'" she said, "and Ding! 'You get Dad's ears.'"
If my genetics class in college was that easy, I'd still be a biology major. You can bet on it.

Hanging around

Bryan is home for Christmas break from balmy Las Vegas, but Elise initially gave him the cold shoulder.
It's been four months since they last saw each other. I guess if you're converting baby time, four months is like half of your life. No wonder it took her a bit of time to warm up to him, but they were reacquainted soon enough.
We all had a good weekend. The last-minute hustling before the holidays has begun, but there was plenty of time for lounging, too.

I can't explain it. I just took the picture.

Another bank-busting toy: Plastic tube that makes noise -- $1.89.

There are days when I wish I could do this. (And, no, she's not napping. Just goofin' around.)

There will never be a day when I can do this. At least not comfortably.

House party

Anni and Elise went to Laura's this weekend to make a gingerbread house with Randy and Jacob, who affectionately refer to their cousin as "Baby Elise."

Judging from this photo, it's a bit surprising they had enough candy left to decorate the gingerbread house.

Young candy artists at work.

Only Elise listened when the three were told to look to their left.

Ending 2009 at 20.02

We were at the doctor's office the other day for Elise's 9-month check-up.
We learned a few things, including that she has the preferred amount of "subcutaneous fat." I guess that's the good fat, the healthy stuff, the cute baby blubber. Given that she's already nearly 31 inches, I would have guessed she is below average for subcutaneous fat, but I guess she's right on track. What that really means, I'm not sure. I just like the term "subcutaneous fat" and said it was going on the blog, mostly because I knew how to spell it. So there.
Here's her stats: She was 30 3/4 inches long and weighed 20.02 lbs. All other health indicators they check at each visit were normal: head size, weight for length, length for age, etc.
Cut away all the clinical stuff, though, we left feeling like she's on a roll, growing like a bean, developing her interpersonal and motor skills and all of those things you often take for granted when you see her every day.
"This baby's doing great," the good doc said.

For the New York friends

Elise says thanks for the rug.

Elise, meet Fraser

Elise is digging the Fraser fir Christmas tree in our living room.
She likes the lights -- and whatever ornaments she can get her paws on.

'Hey, watch this'

More often than not lately we've discovered this scene when we get Elise after a nap. She has not yet lifted herself to her feet while in the crib, which is good because I still need to lower the mattress.
I'm not sure, but I think she's staked out a spot on the right side of the crib because she's freaked out by the make-shift window curtain visible in the background. Which reminds me: It's about time we get going on finishing the upstairs windows.