JourneyLeaf: Life a Page at a Time

Cows, Soap, and Other Terrors

It is evening as I write this.  A few minutes ago I kissed Eli on the cheek, wished him good night, and eased him into his crib.  As usual, he didn't stir when I left the room.  Eli's mumbled "night night" is usually the last thing we hear from him for the next twelve hours.  Tonight, however, I'm holding my breath.

Papa worked late tonight, so Mama and Eli went out to eat together.  On the way home we stopped to fill the gas tank and Eli declared he wanted to go through the car wash.  That was news to me.  Last time we went through, he hated it.  But what the heck.  I drove into the tunnel and explained how the soapy water would pour down and the brush would spin against the windows to get the dirt off.  When the car wash started up, Eli held onto his stuffed bear, closed his eyes, and gritted his teeth.  He didn't make so much as a peep, but there was a lot of cringing.  I admired his bravery.  At the same time, I was mentally cursing myself for saying yes to the car wash so close to bed time.  "Dat was cool!" Eli said as we drove out of the tunnel and he was cheerful all the way home.  But as we were brushing teeth and getting into pajamas, Eli's eyebrows dipped down into a serious expression and he started talking about "Whoosh!  Whoosh!  Soap!"  If my little guy has nightmares tonight, I'll be to blame.  Great Moments in Parenting.

 

 

This past Saturday night, Eli cried out in the wee hours.  When I went in, he was standing in his crib with a binky in each hand as well as Pig-It, Chip, and his cloudy sky blanket in his arms.  He had gathered everything he needed and was waiting for me to get him the heck out of there.  I picked him up and we settled in the rocking chair.  Even in the pale glow of the night light, I could tell he had a very serious expression.

Mama:  Did you have a bad dream?
Eli:  Yes.
Mama:  What did you dream about?
Eli:  Cow.
Mama (not sure I heard right):  A cow?
Eli:  Cow.
Mama:  Like the barnyard animal?
Eli:  Yes.  Cow in window.
Mama:  A cow came in the window?
Eli:  Yes.
Mama: What did it do?
Eli:  Moo.

I know from experience that ordinary things can seem sinister in the distorted landscape of dreams.  And goodness knows cows are really big creatures.  But it kinda cracked me up too – this vision of a Holstein cow standing on a ladder to reach Eli's second story window, tapping with one hoof, mooing to come in.  I held Eli close so he wouldn’t see me trying not to laugh.  Poor little guy.  He was very sleepy and snuggled in closer.  A few minutes later he went to back in bed with no complaints…yet when I went in to get him the next morning, the first thing he talked about was that cow.  Three days later, we went to story time at the library and the librarian put a stamp on the kids' hands when it was time to leave.  She dabbed the wooden square into her ink pad and then pressed the back of Eli's hand to leave behind a red panda.  He visibly flinched when he looked down.  "Cow!" he said, alarmed until he realized it was just a carnivorous bear.

 

 

So the rest of this week Eli and I have been chatting about all things bovine.   Cows are nice and make milk.  We fed celery to the cows and patted them at Little Farm last month without anybody bothering us or following us home.

 

And we talked about how this time of year the cows roam all over the nearby hills, but they can't go past their fences.  (They comically look like God dispersed them across the landscape with a cow shaker.)  Cows cannot fly and are not very good at climbing ladders (especially without opposable thumbs). 

 

 

Cow jokes aside, as the Mama, I wish I could always say the right thing to dissolve Eli's fears.  And I wish I could always realize in advance what potentially scary things to help him avoid.  But those wishes are neither realistic nor truly helpful.  What Eli actually needed was the chance to say yes to the car wash and grit his teeth until it was over, testing his world and proving to himself that he could be brave.

Good job, Little Guy.  May you dream of happy, soapy, squeaky-clean cows minding their own business.

BART

Riding the BART commuter train just for fun...

 

 

I can often tell how much Eli enjoys something not by glee on his face, but by how absorbed he is.  (The glee comes afterwards.)

  

 

I swear, he doesn't miss a thing.  Suddenly he'll point at some detail on the floor or ceiling that I would have missed.  Having Eli around is like having my own personal tour guide to all things mechanical, tiny, or sparkly.

 

Meeting up with friends for Mexican lunch.

 

Back to the station.  Escalators are almost as wonderful as trains.  Almost.

 

Homeward bound...

 

Window reflection through a tunnel

  

  

Wheat Chex with a Twist of Lemon...

It was an ordinary snack.  Vanilla yogurt...

 

 

Then he wanted cereal to put in it.  No problem.  We often do yogurt rather than milk on his Cheerios.  This time he wanted Wheat Chex.  I started to plunk them into the yogurt bowl, but Eli protested.  No, he wanted the Chex dry...and with lemon juice on top.  Huh?  

"Lemon juice?!"  
"Wemon duce!"
"You want lemon?  The sour stuff?!"
"Wemon duce!" 

Straight lemon juice isn't good for the teeth, but a drop on a piece of cereal every now and then?  Whatever.  (And, by the way, I promise this fruit-loving kid gets plenty of Vitamin C each day.)

 

Eli happily finished his lemony snack then ran off to play...leaving behind a swirly, yogurty tabletop residue.  Moments ago he had been "driving" his sticky cereal bits around the outside of his yogurt bowl, making braking and beeping sounds.  (Why am I starting to dread age 16 already?!)

 

Have you ever noticed toddlers are really weird creatures?  

 

For supper, Eli had banana and cantaloupe...dipped in catsup.

Wild March

In like a lion and out like a lamb?  Whatever the start or end, the month of March is swollen with rain and storm clouds but also bright with sun and flowers.  The rolling hills here in Northern California are so green they look like a child's drawing.  March has all the promise of spring yet with a few more chilly days to cozy up at home, warm and dry and happy to bake.  What's not to like about March?

 

 

 

 

    

 

 

 

     

    

 

 

   

 

Self-Portraits

Goodness knows I take a lot of photos of Eli.  This time, using my point-and-shoot camera, he took some himself.

When I take photos of Little Guy, I often try to wipe the lunch crumbs off Eli's face first.  Eli wasn't bothered by such things.  He just wanted to hold the camera and push the button so he could flip it over and see himself.  He was entranced.

 

 

   

Slurp

I always loved giving Baby Eli his milk first thing in the morning or post nap.  Even after he weaned himself, he loved to snuggle in the rocking chair while drinking his bottle.  Upon his transition to "Tot Eli," he was on the go too much to snuggle while slurping his milk.  But soon we realized he just preferred our bed to a lap.  Snuggle time happily resumed in a new location.  I know some pediatricians are against bottles after a year, but ours says it is fine as long as we don't let Eli take it into his crib.  Sounds good to me.

 

  

 

On the day I took these photos, Eli finally rolled over to protect that belly button from too many smooches and raspberries.  After some wiggles and chuckles and peeks at me, though, he flipped onto his back and pulled up his shirt.

 

 

For a few months when Eli was an infant, he woke well before six each morning and he woke up hollering.  It was like being blasted with a fog horn before dawn day after day.  I'd be staggering down the hall before even realizing I was awake.  

How lovely it is now to wake gradually after seven, hearing Eli shuffling and talking to himself.  I go downstairs for the milk and then collect Little Guy with the "Good Morning, Snickerdoodle" song.  Into the big bed for snuggles, tummy pokes, and giggles.  Worth it even if our bed is always sprinkled with random white dots.  And I think Brian will agree that there's nothing quite like a two year-old draped over you, poking your closed eye, and asking in your ear, "PAPA SEEPIN'?"

 

Souvenir Patches

On family vacations, I often end up in a gift shop with my nieces or nephews while they circle the aisles over and over, looking for something to spend money on.  I remember feeling that way as kid.  When you really want a memento but don't know what to look for, the money just burns a hole in your pocket. 

I was always a little envious of my good childhood friend, Dominic.  He collects bottle caps -- just like his father and uncle before him.  Dominic's sons are the third generation to add to the collection.  On vacations and such, the family searches for new bottle caps together. 

Hmmm.  

I wanted to start a collection for Eli that would be from the very beginning of his life.  Something small, easy to store, simple to display, and non-fragile.  Something inexpensive that most gift shops carry.  Something that has a picture or printing to remind him of where he got it.  I thought about bookmarks, but they aren't common enough.  Pencils or pens fit the bill, but then I realized embroidered patches are perfect for our family.  Brian has many patches from his military days and both of Eli's grandfathers (as well as both uncles) served in the military too.  The collection could be part family artifacts and part adventure mementos.

After some web searching, I found that plastic sleeves for Polaroid pictures work perfectly to store patches in a binder.  Next, I picked an album that zips shut around the sides to keep the dust out.  As soon as Eli began to travel, I started picking up patches.  Now Eli is old enough to pick out the one he likes best if there is a selection.  He likes to flip through his book, looking at the pictures on the patches and talking about the places he's been.  (We have a separate section in the back of his binder for when people give him patches as gifts from their travels.)

 

Sometimes I'll find patches for special occasions (Eli's first birthday) or ones that simply remind me of him (the adoration of trains).  Sometimes we don't find patches in a particular location or gift shop, but that's okay.  Disappointment during a quest is a normal part of life.  If we're really determined, we can do a web search later for a substitute.  And I have to admit that I'm hoping the patches will someday stave off some of the gift shop begging.  I'll spring for patches while we're traveling, but I can tell him other loot will have to come out of his allowance.

 

Right now Eli really likes the patches.  I hope he always will, but if he decides collecting patches isn't for him, they are easy to sell on eBay!

Molasses Cookies

What to do on yet another rainy day?

 

But Aunt Georgene was here, so we whipped up some kitchen fun in the form of molasses cookies.  (The recipe calls for margarine, but we used butter.  It's just plain yummier.)

 

 

After mixing the dough, you roll it into small balls and dip them in sugar.

 

 

If you pause too long with dough in your warm little hand...

 

"Hmmm," says Eli.  "I think I'll switch to Play-Doh."

 

The funny thing is that I have no photos of Eli eating a finished cookie because he didn't actually eat any.  In fact, in all the times we've made cookies together, he's never eaten one.  Ever.  He forgets to ask, so I just let it pass.  Is that mean?  But he enjoys cooking so much that the activity is a treat in itself. 

One of my recent happy finds is a set of measuring spoons Eli can use in the kitchen.  He always wants to use a set of spoons, yet it is hard for his little hands to hold many at once.  Then I found Kuhn Rikon Kinderkitchen goldfish spoons (in a San Francisco airport gift shop, of all places).  They float along a stretchy "fishing line," so Eli can hold just one spoon at a time.  He also likes bobbing them in the dishwater so they look like they are swimming.

Photo Sessions

I have long loved photography.  The world is pared down and simplified by a viewfinder.  It's taking a moment to truly see.

I used to do still life photography in college.  I'd find good light falling on some interesting objects and then slowly click away, my 35mm camera mounted on a tripod so the results would be crisp.  It was like meditating.  Peaceful.  Grateful.  A half hour later, I'd put away the camera feeling somehow refreshed.

 

When Eli came along, I did goofball photo shoots inspired by Anne Geddes.  I had fun, yet my subject being in motion made it hard to concentrate.  I worked fast, using a flash because I wasn't sure how to do otherwise and still keep Eli indoors where it was warm.  I focused on the end result -- photos preserving a little of Eli's baby deliciousness.

 

But then I discovered the magic of windows and started doing more indoor photographs with natural light.  It was a return to loving both process and product, the photo shoot and the end results.   I'd click away, feeling close to Eli because I was taking time to truly observe him.  

 

Quite often my photos of Eli turn out slightly blurred because I find I can't use the manual settings on my camera and keep up with a wee impulsive boy.  I turn on my camera's auto settings, accepting that it may take fifty shots to get the one I want and that the portion of the photo in perfect focus may not be the detail I most wanted to capture.  I have to let go of controlling the process.  Frustrating?  Sometimes.  But liberating too. 

 

As the months went by and I kept taking pictures of Eli, I found a new sort of peacefulness behind the camera.  With snapshots, those quick one or two shots to capture something funny he's doing, I may try to get him to look at me or smile.  But during longer photo sessions, I love to find a safe outdoor place and then turn him loose.  I follow along, just doing my best to make sure the background is uncluttered and the composition through the viewfinder is pleasing.  Minutes go by in flow.  I become a part of Eli's toddler world, pulled in the same direction as whatever captures his attention.  The world is pared down to just Eli and me.  I come away feeling peaceful and grateful.  And whenever I look back at the photos, I remember how simple the world was for a brief and shining time.

 

 

My on-the-go images blurred in the fading daylight, but here we are on the way home from doing St. Paddy's Day photos.  Just Mama and Eli enjoying the onset of evening...

 

One item I love to give as a baby shower gift is Nick Kelsh's How to Photograph Your Baby.  I wish I'd gotten it before Eli was born!  I once had my own black & white darkroom, but I didn't know beans about portraits or indoor lighting.  This book covers the basics in a fun, easy-to-read way and is helpful long past the baby years.

Goofball St. Paddy's Fun 2011

March 17!  By the time I woke up, my old Savannah friends were watching the 187th annual parade, sipping green drinks, and having goofball fun on the warm Atlantic shores three time zones away.  

Aunt Georgene is here visiting from Oregon for the week.  Surely we could make some West Coast fun?  Hmmm...

We started off by reading (and rereading and rereading...) Eli's new hidden flap book, Hooray for St. Patrick's Day by Jane Holub.  

 

Soon we went off to the City.  Woo hoo!  Pier 39!  That's an Irish location, right?  Ok.  It's not Irish.  But it is fun!

 

Peanut butter on sour dough bread for lunch!  That's Irish food, right?  Ok.  It's not Irish.  But it is yummy all the way down to the extra-chewy crusts!

 

Ah ha!  We did find something Irish!  There's Celtic shop at Pier 39 and we adopted our very own leprechaun.  (No pot of gold divulged yet, but maybe if we use thumb screws?)

 

 

Eli stuck the leprechaun in the front of his overalls and proceeded to happily zip around the pier.  It wasn't a jig, but it was quite jaunty.

 

Then the four of us (Eli, Aunt Georgene, The Leprechaun, and I) watched the sea lions.  Eli got pretty good at imitating them.  Arrrrr!  Arrrr!

 

 

Mama brought along Crayola's new colored bubbles for St. Patrick's Day.  Green, of course!  

 

 

The colored bubbles were oddly heavy, sinking rather quickly to the ground.  They left green spots on the sidewalk.  They left green spots on other things too...

 

 

When we got home, I looked at Crayola's website.  It specifically mentions that the new colored bubbles wouldn't be good at weddings.  No kidding!  (Take a moment and imagine that one!)  The bubbles were fun, gave us a good laugh, and washed right out of that white shirt.  But we slipped the rest of the bottle into the trash because I wasn't about to carry that drippy thing around.

The rest o' the day?  Eli made himself "oh-meal" for supper.  What kind of oatmeal?  IRISH, of course!

 

Then Eli helped me make Irish Potato Candy.  Mash, mash, mash to form the base of the powdered sugar mixture...

 

Is it St. Patrick's Day or Make a Mess Day?  Look at that fine coating of powdered sugar everywhere...

 

It's okay, though.  At least Eli went to bed clean.  Crayola redeemed itself with Color Bath Dropz, so Eli got a "Shamrock Bath."  (Thanks, Aunt Georgene, for holding Eli steady in the tub so I could pull out the camera.)

 

After Eli was in bed, I finished up the potato candy.  Like the colored bubbles, this St. Paddy's Day experience didn't go as expected.  I spread the mixture in a pan as directed and slathered the peanut butter on top.  

 

I even got the two layers to obediently roll up.  But then the whole log of swirled candy heaved a tired sigh and relaxed into a soft heap.

 

Aunt Georgene and I looked down at the sticky confection, deciding we were darn tired too.  We ate a few spoonfuls, heaved the rest into the compost (where it made a splat like an overcooked cabbage), and then the two of us gratefully sank into easy chairs.  Ahhh.

But it was St. Paddy's Day fun we'll remember for a long time to come.