She's a good egg.

A little late? Yeah, but there has been a lot going on, so I'm just now getting around to posting some photos from Easter. It was a good day.
Elise nearly made it through the entire church service (Presbyterian, so no three-hour vigils). We had a light brunch with my parents and then went to Jenee's to be with Anni's family -- and to spend part of the day outside.

She's in a love-hate relationship with grass right now.


She found most of her eggs with little assistance...

...but had a little assistant for some of them.

I am generally opposed to dressing her up with holiday-themed head stuff, but you have to pick your battles.

Hey, watch this

We all have odd talents, don't we?

She is ours

Thirteen months after we took Elise home from the hospital for the first time, we finally can claim her as solely ours.
No, there was no parental rights dispute.
I only mean we can claim her because we finally paid off the hospital bill.
So with a final check of $65 to wipe away the balance, the hospital -- as good as its staff was -- no longer has a financial stake in the little lady.

First pudding experience

It's kind of like how I look after a bowl of chocolate ice cream. She at least uses a bib.

She needs bumpers

Raspberry jam is good.

I ♥ film.

Dear film negatives,
We had it so good together. You never just disappeared.
Sorry I left you.
-Scott

Over the past year I've taken thousands of photos. Most of those, as you probably can guess, were of Elise. Most were junk; they were blurry, poorly lit, etc. But you have to take 10 -- or 100 -- to get 1 good one.
So I kept shooting, and dumped all of the photos onto our 50-gazillion-gig external hard drive, where they were safe from accidental deletion or a laptop crash. Good move, right? Not quite.
The other day the seemingly reliable external hard drive crashed and, barring some unforeseen "Duh!" moment or a costly attempt to salvage whatever is left in the black box, we have lost all of our photos -- everything from Elise's first year, not to mention all we've photographed over the past several years.
Those family photos? Gone.
Pictures from a memorable Maine vacation last summer? Wiped away like the tide.
Christmas pics? Adios.
Random snapshots? Poof.
So, yeah, this obviously is a bit of a bummer. Figures, though. Friggin' technology -- you work fine one moment, crap out the next. Ludditity doesn't seem so ridiculous right about now.
There is a tiny bit of good news in this, however. As you know, I've posted many photos of Elise on the blog over the past year. I can save those again and get some prints made.
I think I'll get on that before Google decides to kill off its blog program.
In the meantime, maybe I should dig out that film camera that is packed away in the attic.

Well, that's a new one

Elise is an excellent eater -- 95 percent of the time. She'll eat just about anything you give her, and she's quite clean, which pleases me because I don't want to buy an industrial mop. And because I don't like stepping on a clump of cold spaghetti. So all in all, she's a swell eater and my socks are clean.
There is that 5 percent of the time, though, when she is in a funk, does not like the order -- or speed -- at which she receives her food or just wants to drive us batty.
That happened the other night, when Elise debuted her new move, the Swipe and Stare.
You probably can guess what it is. Sitting in her high chair with a plentiful supply of food on her tray, she'll get peeved about something and swipe her arm across the tray, sending all of the food onto the floor.
That's not the part that will drive you nuts, though. That comes next. After swiping the tray, she stares at you defiantly, obviously trying to get a reaction. How one responds is a testament of willpower.
Thankfully, it doesn't happen often because I would cave.

The evolution of eating

One of the many things I've learned in the past year: Feeding an infant is much more of a production than I imagined, and we really tried hard to keep it as simple as possible. (For those of you snickering at that, it could have been worse.)
Another of the myriad lessons I've learned: As the months passed, feeding Elise got easier.
And a lesson I'll learn within a few months: Just when she's eating splendidly, she'll hit the toddler age and get to be a food stickler. (That's a food snob in a diaper.)
But back to that second lesson, the one about eating getting easier.
A year ago, it didn't seem easy. Far from it.

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We're home from the hospital and these feedings are every few hours, like clockwork -- throughout the day and multiple times in the middle of the night, of course. You can't blame the newborn for wanting to eat, but if there is even the slightest lapse in bottle washing it could prove problematic, no doubt frustrating parent and child at the 4 a.m. feeding when the last thing we want to do is scramble and fumble for a clean bottle.
We do not have a dishwasher and for some unknown reason look suspiciously upon the microwaveable bottle cleaners, so we scrub bottles by hand. Oh, sure, we aren't digging ditches with a dull-tipped trowel, but it still is a hassle. You need a separate scrub brush and a drying rack made especially for bottles, which, while it's great to keep the baby's bottles separate from dirty dishes in the sink, a separate drying rack takes up valuable counter space.
But look at this: She looks so peaceful as she feeds.

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She's now a few months old and it's time to start introducing "real" food. Lovely. How exciting. She's getting bigger.
And, hooya! That means fewer bottles to wash, store, prepare and not lose in the couch cushions. But taking their place (and taking up space) are multiple boxes of nutrient-packed dry cereal, to be mixed with home-prepped fruits and vegetables. (Yes, we -- well, usually Anni -- steam veggies, including from our garden, and fruit to feed Elise.)
It's kind of tedious. And don't forget the many little plastic spoons and bowls you need at your disposal. Make sure they're washed and ready. You might as well store them with the bottles, which we still have to use a handful of times daily, in between the cereal/fruit or rice/veggie meals. There is just no room for all of this stuff.
But look at this: She's sitting in a high chair, eating so nicely.

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Finally! We've moved beyond mixing real food with the cereal. So that means we can get rid of those dry cereal and rice boxes and most of the small containers used to measure the amount of liquid formula to mix with the cereal or rice. That means there is room for new, bigger bowls in the cabinet and extra drying rack space for those bottles that we're still using.
Oh, what's that? The food we give her can't be any bigger than my smallest finger nail? Can she even taste it when it can be measured in micrometers, not centimeters?
She's finally eating real food, but it's so hard to keep track of what she can and cannot eat, what she has had at home but not at school, what she already had today and what is most healthy for her.
But look at this: She's learned how to grasp food with her "pincers" -- her thumb and her index finger. It's such a simple exercise, but it's amazing to think she figured out how to do it. What a joy to watch.

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Yes! She just turned 1 and we have successfully eliminated all bottle feedings, the birthday being more of a coincidence than a drop-dead bottle ban. We finally can pack away the bottles (You never know when you'll need them again.), fold up the plastic bottle-drying rack up and toss the scrub brush. And that container of formula mix? Won't be using that anymore.
Wait, doesn't she still need to be drinking something other than water in a sippy cup? Oh, she's now going to drink whole milk or 2% milk? So we have to start buying it now? I don't even drink that stuff. And, you mean to tell me there still is some foods she cannot eat? Ugh. When does that list disappear?
But look at this: We're all eating the same meals, sitting together for breakfast and dinner.
A year ago, it didn't seem possible.

The lady turned 1. We celebrated.

So this is what frosting tastes like.
We marked Elise's 1st birthday Saturday with the traditional party -- with some twists. They involved eating no cake, a child fighting a head cold, some of the adults playing musical chairs (no, the punch wasn't spiked) and an observation that the grandpas maybe should consult with each other before gifting furniture.
What kind of party was this, anyway?
A pretty good one, I think. I asked Elise what she thought of it, but she had a mouthful of vanilla buttercream frosting, so couldn't answer me.
We decided to hold off on the circus-themed party with live animals and a blow-up playground until her 2nd birthday, and instead forced the family and friends to squeeze into our living room for food and presents.
Having learned to unwrap gifts at Christmas, Elise was an old hand when it came to opening her presents. Everyone was plenty generous, and she bagged some decent loot for a 1-year-old.
She got some help from cousins Randy and Jacob as she opened their gift.


Anni and I gave her kind of an unusual gift -- and the closest thing she'll get to a real dog at the house, at least for several years.
My parents have a collie, Nikko, who is as fond of Elise as she is of Nikko.
Well, Anni and I had decided to get Elise a hand puppet, and as we were looking for one we happened to find a collie puppet. Perfect gift. It's about as realistic as you can get while still being able to shove your hand up a hole in the puppet's ... well, you get the point.
Anyway, the puppy puppet was a hit. It doesn't have a name yet, so I guess we'll take suggestions. And, no, Lassie is not an original name.



The funniest moment came when the grandpas each brought in one last gift.
Turns out each had refinished and stained or painted a rocking chair for Elise. And both chairs were adorned with Elise's name on the back. Frankly, at the rate things were going, I'm surprised they didn't wear the same shirt to the party.
Great gifts, though. And each has some history -- the chairs, I mean, not the grandpas.
The rockers were put to immediate use, as Elise got some help from Avery, daughter of pals Dan and Erin.



Anni decided that instead of making a cake, she would make a slew of cupcakes, each topped with fruit because, well, Elise would eat fruit all day long if she could and, really, who doesn't like fresh berries in March in Minnesota?
Elise, who was fighting a head cold that day, as evidenced by her expression in the next photo, got some help blowing out her candle from cousin Randy.




This was Elise's first experience with frosted cupcakes. Needless to say, they got along pretty well. She was curious at first, but I think the photos give you a pretty good idea of how things progressed. (Note: In the third photo, she is gesturing for more. We see this often -- a child with food literally falling out of her mouth as she asks for more.)





Anyway, if this gets any longer I might as well just start writing about her 2nd birthday, so I'll wrap it up, adding only a big thanks from Anni and I to everyone who came and to those who sent birthday wishes.

Museum fascination

To celebrate Elise's birthday as a family -- you know, three of us, not the birthday party crowd -- Anni and I took today off from work. We took Elise to the Minnesota Children's Museum, in downtown St. Paul, and then we went to lunch at Cossetta's.
To say Elise enjoyed the museum is probably accurate, if by enjoy you mean spend much of the time just staring. So much for her to see -- fascinating sites, inside the building and out, hundreds of kids (for some reason I had envisioned the museum as being pretty much to ourselves) and plenty of other new things. It's a pretty impressive place, not that I have much to compare it to, but there are several floors, different exhibits and some "habitot," or something like that, for little ones like Elise.
She made it about 1.5 hours before we decided to hit the road. It was getting crowded -- and the last straw might have been the annoying kid in the water area whose name was Silas. Ugh.
Afterward, we headed to Cossetta's for a couple of slices. (Elise likes pizza, but I think this was the first time she has not had homemade pizza.)
Icing on the (birthday) cake: An afternoon walk by the lake in the sun and 40-degree-plus temperatures. Good times.
Here are some museum photos:

I couldn't help but notice all of the teeth marks on these white styrofoam blocks. Egh.

She's crawled through toy tunnels before, but wouldn't give it a try today.

She liked the big windows looking out to the saintly city.

Nice picture. Next time, we'll pull up her sagging britches first.

Why am I the one who looks like I'm learning to walk?

A benefit of being, well, not tall: You don't have to bend over to grab little outstretched hands.

You have to watch that girl; she'll eat the suds if you let her.

She is beginning to like playing with water, outside of bath time.

Packing it in

I wrote last week about the lasagna experience.
We suspect Elise has hit a growth spurt. How else to explain how she is just shoveling food into her mouth lately?
Her dinner tonight:
-- Half of a cooked sweet potato
-- A piece of bread
-- Half of an avocado
-- Half of a banana
-- 4 oz. of milk
"Granted, she didn't have a protein," Anni said in a concerned-mother tone, before correcting herself: "Well, she did have a piece of cheese, too."
Of course she did.

Catching up and gearing up

The blog has been neglected. But no longer. We're back on board. And just in time -- it's going to be a busy couple of weeks around here, starting yet this week.
We're celebrating Elise's 1st birthday on Saturday, but before that, we're all playing hooky from work and school Friday for a pre-birthday family outing.
After this weekend, she's got her 1-year check-up. And, she's on pace to start taking steps on her own within a few weeks.
But for now we'll ease back into blogging. It's hard work, you know.
Here are several random photos from the past few weeks:

I'm going to save this picture so that when Elise comes home one day at age 15 sporting a Mohawk, I will have proof that it only looks good at age 1.

Her shirt says, Super Cute. Super Cute for a red Stormtrooper.

Steady hands yield precision, but jerky arms produce a child's painting -- and modern art!

Skip Italy and check out the Leaning Tower of Elise-a.

Nearly tall enough to make my coffee -- or to get herself seconds and thirds on toast.

Il nostra bambina

Anni is French-Canadian, Polish and a tad German. I'm Swedish and German.
Somehow, Elise is Italian.
She's got to be. At least that's what I suspect after watching her eat pasta. Tonight it was lasagna that Anni had made.
Elise ate an entire piece -- this was no dainty helping; who skimps on pasta? -- and then gestured for more. So I gave her another one-third piece. She inhaled that, too. In fact, she was eating it as fast as I was putting it on her plate.
Then I caught her trying to scrape up every last bit of pasta that was left on her plate.
In the end, there was a clean plate and a baby with a beard of pasta sauce and fingers full of ricotta.

Sign, show pony, sign!

At 11 1/2 months, Elise has (mostly) mastered one dozen signs.
The full list includes: book, more, hat, baby, all done, milk, music, eat, shoes, toothbrush, light and puppy.
I think I've said this before, but when we started teaching her signs I did not realize how helpful they would be. For instance, it is much more of a pleasure to see her sign "all done" when she is done eating rather than to watch as she flips her plate onto the floor, cottage cheese bits and green bean nubs spilling all over the tile.
Clearly, though, one of the signs needs a little work. For some reason she unfortunately turned "baby" -- in which you're simply supposed to swing your arms gently in front of you -- into "baby with the shakes."
Still, we are obviously impressed. Now if only she can learn what I think is among the most important signs: "More ice cream, please."

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.