Gypsy Trip Event 1- Lordy, Lordy!

Back in the archaic past, which we call "high school" there was a girl we call Lordy. The first time I met her, I thought, "wow she has pretty hair". And she did. But over the next (holy moly I can't believe it's been-) TEN years, I found that there is much more to Lordy than really, really, pretty hair. I'm not the only one who noticed. So did Mr. Ed.


(See. Pretty Hair.)





Apparently Lordy thought Mr. Ed was pretty cool, too. So Little One and I jetted over to northern cali to help them get hitched. It was quite an adventure! This wedding took place on a gorgeous ranch, which just happened to be about a 30 minute drive on a, uh, "rustic" dirt road- from cell phone service. Don't even think about civilization. So I tried to gulp down my mama "what if" worries about Little One, which was pretty easy considering Lordy was the most un-zilla bride ever, and took every precaution to keep Little One safe. What a great Auntie!
Now, me, I had a ball. I got to hang out with some of my best, most favortiest, closest to my heart girls, who I see much too rarely, and I got to do it in a beautiful setting.
Little One...well...She had a rather rough time of it. She was pretty fussy and clingy quite a bit of the time. I think it had a lot to do with the fact that She got hauled around a lot, missing naps and being generally over-stimulated by all the people and excitement going on. Being at the apex of the Seperation Anxiety phase didn't help a whole lot either. We also shared a room with a handfull of other people, including some frat brothers of the groom.
Frat Brothers are great, sweet, fun guys. Seriously, they are good people, Peanuts. They also snore, which is apparently scary. And they sometimes stumble in at 2 am shouting, "BAby! Baaaby! HI baby!!! Hee! Taheehee! Theresababyinhe-ouch! Sorry table. Wheresmahbed? Where's my-BABY! Uh oh. (dropping to a loud whisper and looking at me with concern) She's awake!"
It turns out being a bridesmaid and a single mother wasn't quite as cake as I'd hoped, and I'm sorry to say I think I did a rather mediocre job at both. And I'm very sorry to whoever the dude was that burst through the door at 1:32am on the eve of the wedding, walked up to me and Little One in bed, and demanded, "wheres my phone?!" Wrong place, wrong time, wrong mama.
BUT! As I said, I had a blast. I reveled in being with my girls and I soaked in the amazing scenery and I oohed and ahhed over the fabulous details of the perfect wedding, and I did no vacuuming whatsoever. And despite Little One's difficulty adjusting She squeezed in plenty of Her own fun, too. SO much fun, that I will have to post each part of this event seperately, I think. Because here is the other thing about Lordy with the really pretty hair. She knows how to have fun. And this wedding was not just great-wedding fun, it was epic, Lordy sized fun. Which means that it extended over several days and, as you will see, several miles.

Gypsy Trip

Today we finally performed a successful autopsy on Camera and found that, thankfully, Camera is survived by many of the pictures taken before its demise. So now that I have those, I thought I'd share and fill you in on our big trip. The trip was crafted around three main events- a wedding, a visit to my mom, another wedding- so I'll post some pictures of each. But in the in-between time, there were a lot of airports(6), and a LOT of airplanes(8), and a shuttle and a rental car and some crazy drives. And some crazydiculous delays, including one particularly memorable hour on the tarmac in Phoenix- with no air conditioning. And another exciting one in which we were delayed so long we ran out of baby food, and Starbucks would not sell me a banana, even for $5. But they did sell me a cup of melon, which Little One likes, that happened to have some pineapple in it too. Which is how we discovered that Little One is very, very allergic to pineapple. Fun times!
Throughout it all (with a slight exception when She was being broiled alive in Phoenix) Little One was a champ. She didn't cry, fuss, or complain. Quite to the contrary, She was a pretty fun little travel mate, making friends everywhere we went and giggling at the new sights and sounds. We had nice people sitting by us on every flight, and truth be told, though it was a bit exhausting, we had a great time gypsying around! We also had some interesting coincidences.
One family we bonded with during a delay in Phoenix ended up on another flight with us later in Vegas, for instance. On the way to Austin we happened to sit next to a guy who knows the cousin we were going to see married from school. And on one flight, we sat right in front of a little girl about a year old, who was named Lattle Ine! Can you believe it? The same name except for two vowels. And not just every one is named Little One, you know, so it was pretty neat. And other stuff, too, which like the first examples are not nearly so interesting as I thought they were, come to think of it.
So I'll just say that it was a long, rather grueling trip, fun and exciting and worth it in every way, and that though I'm glad to have Little One back (for now) in Her familiar home with Her daddy and doggies and steady routine, we had a blast. I have always loved to go places. I used to think that nothing in the world was better than traveling. Now I know that's how you think no ice cream could be better than chocolate, until you add candy chunks and cookie dough and hot fudge. What's better than traveling? Doing it with my favorite girl!

Magic Carpet and a Tragic Drowning

Ok, well, magic towel. At least that's what J refers to it as, with a certain air of incredulity that might offend me if I didn't agree that the reality of the reason I have no pictures for you Peanuts is a bit incredible.
There are some. I can't get to them yet, but there are some pictures coming, and perhaps I'll just post away and add them later. But here's the problem.
My poor, poor camera, so young, has been snatched away in the prime of its life. There we all were in Arizona, capturing the adorable moments of Little One's first dip in a swimming pool. After quite a few shots, poor camera was tired and lay out on a beach towel on the pool deck for a break. It was just minding its own business, completely unawares, ignorant to the fact that this was its last sunbath.
Suddenly, someone Upstairs must have had a massive sneeze, because a ginormous gust of wind billowed up from the dessert, swooping up poor doomed Camera, swaddled in its towel of death, and tossing it into the cruel depths of the pool.
Camera cannot swim.
Poor Camera.
We tried to resuscitate it, Peanuts, we tried! We breathed air into orifices, we dried it thoroughly, we did compressions on the power button and screamed, "Camera! Don't leave us! Don't go into the light!!!"
But....it was too late. Camera succumbed to its watery fate, and is no more. Goodbye Camera. J says, with an arched eyebrow, that it "flew into the pool on a 'magic towel' "and died. He suspects foul play, but I tell you, I am innocent! My mother is a witness. So is Little One, but She went all Switzerland on me when we questioned Her about it. Either way, the heart of Camera clicks no longer.
So I have tales for you of our travels, tales of J's mom who is visiting us, tales of summer fun and all such stuff, and they are coming. But for now we are grieving Camera, and crunching numbers to see if we can't afford to magically re-incarnate it at some point. I'm pretty sure that Camera was Buddhist.
In the meantime, if you are among those who befriended Camera on our trip, please know that- in lieu of flowers- donations (of pictures) may be sent to either my email or facebook page. And now, a moment of silence:

Nine Months

Hello Peanuts!
We're back from our tour of American airports and countrysides and in the thick of unpacking...again. I do have some stories and pictures to share, but first things first. Today is Little One's 9 month birthday! NINE! That means that She has now officially been out here in the Big Wide World for longer than She was in my belly. This time last year, She was tap-dancing on my bladder, and now She's dancing Her way across the country. What a lot has happened. Here are the high points from the big Eighth month:

Sound the Trumpets. Little One finally has.....a TOOTH! Yes, it's true. There is a little ridge of calcified enamel erupting from the bottom-right pinkness of Little One's grin. So far She has been stoic about this disturbance, except at night, when She pierces our hearts with little squeals of pain until we give Her some grape-flavored Tylenol and extra-snuggly cuddles. Look for upcoming Photos of Her new and improved smile soon!

Little One has decided She needs to sharpen this fledgling fang. So She's off to find interesting things to chew on, and She's hunting. She must be stealthy. Which is why She now gets around commando-style, creeping on Her belly until She spies Her target from the corner of Her eye. And then- INCOMING!- super-quick army roll to the side and BAM! The block/teddy bear/dog's tail/speck-of-who-knows-what is locked-on and in the mouth before it knows what hit it. Over. Out.

This ability to move in every direction Has opened up worlds of possibilities. She can now get toys from the toybox Herself. She can play one-person fetch by throwing objects and then scootching after them, over and over. And over. No longer helpless when trapped between, say, the table-leg and the exersaucer, She can now explore the far crevices of Her world, and get Herself into and out of ridiculous places at a moment's notice. Where's the baby?! She was just right there?! Oh. There She is, of course, wedged under the ottoman, apparently checking for oil leaks.

It also means that She does not have to take abandonment laying down. Now, if I dare, through utter impudence, to put Her down and walk away, She can chase after me while She protests. If I get the insolent idea that I can cross the room without Her, She can be literally at my heels before I can say "Little One you better stay on that blanke- oh."

This means I now have a tiny, creeping shadow. Because Little One is a bit nostalgic for the Other Nine Months, when She was hooked up to me through an umbilical cord. Search as She may (and trust me she has looked) that tether is gone. There's some funky dimple there instead. While She tries to get, actually, to the bottom of that, She has had to improvise by attaching Herself to me with Her arms and monkey-legs. AT ALL TIMES. Do you know how to pee with another person glued onto your body? AND zip your jeans? Ha. Well I do.

Because- as stories of our Two Week Adventure will reveal- we are smack in the middle of a little developmental phase called "separation anxiety". The basic gist of which is that if Little One can't be glommed on to one of Her parents, She at least needs to be touching them. And if, for some reason, She can't do that, then She sure as heck better be at least able to see them. And if She cannot, or if said parent is walking in the direction of a doorway indicating impending inability to see them, OR if some Other Person approaches and appears to have the intent of removing Her from Parental presence, OR if Other Person comes up and obstructs Her line of vision thereby causing inability to see them- well. Then out go the searching monkey-arms and legs, out goes the pouty-baby lip, and out goes the dreaded Wail of Abandonment. (Which would be *really annoying* IF it weren't for the fact that I know that in about two blinks-of-an-eye She will want nothing to do with me whatsoever, and so I better enjoy the stalker-baby love while it lasts.)

Don't worry. The monkey-limbs have other uses also, more so every day. They can, for example, work in concert to dispense Her bottle autonomously. No small task with a heavy, 8oz glass bottle. This feat requires two hands to find the proper end and steer it into Her mouth, and keep it there, and also both feet to hold the other end up so that gravity can get every last drop into Her tummy. They can also do things like put blocks into and out of a box on cue. Which is cool because it requires a fair amount of dexterity, and also because it means She understands what "into" and "out of" mean.

She understands quite a lot, actually, which means we better start minding our P's and Q's around here. If I say, "thirsty?" She reaches for Her glass. If I say, "food?" She reaches for the spoon. (Or waves Her hand in front of Her face and turns up Her nose, in the case She is full or I am trying to give Her banana). If I refer to Her favorite toy on Her anchored walker, She races over to it, and if I hold up two choices and say, "which one", She sizes them both up, and picks the one She wants. In many ways She is letting us know that these word things are starting to make sense, which is opening up a whole new kind of relating to each other that is very exciting.

She can't yet respond in kind, though She is trying very, VERY hard. Who knows what She's saying. But She says it a LOT. The girl is a talker! I have no idea where She gets that from. But I blame Her father for the array of weird, adorable, and ridiculous faces which now accompany the weird, adorable, and ridiculous noises She's been gradually adding to. Don't tell him I said so. I also blame him for Her apparent crushes on every man in glasses She saw on our trip. You can tell him that, if you want.

Some things about Little One haven't changed since the Other Nine Months. She still gets hiccups a lot. She still likes being upside-down, and as close to me as possible. Some things have changed an awful lot. They are changing at this moment! As we speak! We're not really speaking because this is the internet but still! Every moment there is something new.

Happy Birthday Little One! I'm so glad to have you out here in the Big Wide World, moving and shaking and changing and growing where I can watch and delight in it all with you. I can't wait to see what the next nine bring!

Two Week Vacation

Little One and I have been so busy unpacking from South, celebrating good daddies, washing dozens of loads of laundry, and frantically re-packing that we haven't had time to tell you peanuts that we are not just repacking for fun. Because other things are more fun. Like, sticking pickles up your nose. Nope, we're doing it because tomorrow we are off again!
Yep. Baby is a rolling stone, and we're gypsying our way out to northern Cali, Arizona, and Texas for a couple of weeks so that we can make sure a couple of very important Ladies get hitched. It's going to be a long, hectic, and fun fun trip, and I will almost certainly have waaaaaaaaay too much to say about it! When we get back. Because, peanuts, I am flying across the country with a baby. A car seat. A backpack. Two big bags full'o'stuff. All by my self. With layovers.
I am so not bringing the laptop. So for those of you we will soon meet in our travels, we say:
"Oh mygosh yay yay YAY! I can't wait to see you we're super excited woohoooo!"
And for the rest of you, we wish we could say the same. But instead we say, "See ya in a couple weeks!"

Something for Father's Day

"Yes I do want something for Father's Day".
"Oh yay! You never tell me what you want for holidays! What is it? We can do anything. I'll get you whatever you want. You are a great dad and you so totally deserve it. Tell me what you want. Tell me tellmetellme!"
"Nothing".
"What."
"Nothing".
"J, you said you'd tell."
"I mean literally, Nothing. I want Nothing. NO plans. No activities, just...Nothing."

And so, because J is the bestest daddy in the whole big world, and he does, in fact, so totally deserve whatever he wants on his very first ever Father's Day, that is what I gave him.
We did eventually wander down to Eastern Market, a fave spot on a gorgeous Sunday. But it was a random wandering, not a planned event, you see, and it was J's idea, so it still counts as me doing Nothing. It was a lovely, lazy Father's Day.



My friend Mox met up to help us celebrate the Nothing and we all had lunch from the famous crepe guy. We wandered around all day and picked up our favorite injera on the way home to do more Nothing. Which for J, really is rather an extravagant gift.
Because he never gets to do Nothing. J would not tell you this, but I read his papers where all the supervising doctors talk about how well he's doing on rotation, and if it were elementary school instead of medical school, it they would have been just dripping with smiley faces and gold stars. J works hard. Really hard. And he works long, ridiculous hours, and he does not have much time to study. Or sleep.
Because even though he is a superhero student, he doesn't actually get to have a clark kent life at home. He just trades in one cape for another at the door, and becomes a superhero dad.
So even though it will embarrass him, I thought that J deserved a post today about how great he is and how much Little One and I appreciate his extra-superhero-y-ness. Here is Little One's message. She especially wants to thank J for the following:

Making the best funny faces and sounds which make Her giggle.
Making time for dinner dates nearly every night, even after working overnight and all day.
Often managing to study and play with Her at the same time.
Changing diapers- even the really icky kind- wiping chins, mixing bottles, dressing, bathing, soothing, and picking up after Her just as much as mommy does when he is home. Which She hears not all daddies do, for some silly reason.
Reading Fox and Sox in the way only he can.
Taking Her fun places, even when he might rather be taking a nap.
Talking and playing with Her, teaching Her all about important things like how to put the yellow ring before the red one.
Giving Her so many really excellent hugs and snuggles.
Being so overall wonderful and exciting that hearing his voice or seeing him walk by is enough to elicit big grins, gurgles and coos. So wonderful that if She is sitting on the floor playing when he gets home, Her happy dance sometimes knocks Her right over. And so wonderful that when this makes Her cry because She bonks Her head, instead of being annoyed at coming home to a screaming baby after a long day, he goes right over and makes Her feel instantly better with hugs and smiles and kisses.

I would like to thank J too. For:
Always always always making time for his family, no matter how busy, worn out, overextended he is, and no matter how many more important things he has to do. From running the dogs to fixing the house to tucking in Little One to listening to me talk even when I've got nothing to say that doesn't involve some type of poop, he is there for all of us.
Being the reason I get to stay home and take care of Little One, instead of having some qualified person do it. (Like they'd know how to properly spoil Her and teach Her bad habits.)
Being patient. Being happy. Being fun. Being kind. On three hours sleep. Every. Day.
Helping create a home for his daughter that is safe and happy and free of those little stress molecules that can poison the air if you aren't careful.
Being the kind of daddy that I'm thankful and proud to have Little One watching (because She's always watching) and looking up to as an example of what being a person should be.
Being the kind of husband that I'm thankful and proud to have Little One watching (She is) and thinking as She grows up, "so that's how men are supposed to treat their gals".
Having those fantastic dreamy eyelashes and being thoughtful enough to pass them along to Little One.

Happy first Father's Day, SuperJ! It's no wonder Little One and the doggies and I love you so much you could drown in it. You're doing the same at daddying as you apparently are at doctoring. Which is a Darn Good Job for a Rookie. And you're doing it all at once. Which is really Something.

Please Do Not Feed The Animal

I know I can get boring. But Please read this one to the end. For me? No? For Little One then? Aww, thanks. She knew you would. Look out. This may come as a shock. I'm a bit of a....worrier. Hard to believe, but true. Which is why, when I take Little One to the doctor, I usually expect to hear something along the lines of, "well it was a good idea to ask, Mrs. C, but there's no need to worry too much." And then I feel better, and I can find something else to worry about.
I certainly don't expect to hear, "I don't thing you quite realize how serious this is." But yesterday, that is what Dr. Allergy said to me. And he also asked me to impress upon the members of Little One's fan club that "this is not a joke."
So, since Little One and I will be traveling to see some of you soon, I'm going to get all serious for a minute here and make sure everyone knows that this:


is not a joke.
Little One is allergic to Milk, Eggs, Peanuts, and Soy. She is VERY allergic to Milk, Eggs, Peanuts, and Soy. So allergic that She is going to be a bit of a minor medical celebrity, written up and used for medical school classes. She's even special-er than we thought!
So far we have not had any life-threatening reactions, but Dr. Allergy was sure to repeat often to me that "past reactions are not predictive of future reactions", and that he considers Little One to be a "very high risk for anaphalactic shock". Yikes.
Apparently what happens is that each time Little One is exposed to something She's allergic to, She becomes a little bit more sensitive to it. So each time She comes into contact with Milk, Eggs, Peanuts, and Soy, She gets a little more and a little more allergic to it, until at some point-we have no way of knowing when- She will become just allergic enough that the next exposure can cause Her to stop breathing. Yikes. Which is why it's very important to try to keep Her away from Milk, Eggs, Peanuts, and Soy. Always.
I don't want to scare you fan clubbers away from Little One. Please please play with Little One and give Her hugs and snuggles! Her feelings will be so hurt if you don't because She loves you like a fat kid loves milk, egg, peanut, and soy-free cake. Just please be sure that you:

*Don't feed Her anything. Unless it is a raw fruit or vegetable, or came out of Her diaper bag.
For some reason friends and strangers alike have a particular fondness of offering cookies. Please no. Store-bought cookies typically contain ALL of the no-no foods, and it's surprising how many processed foods do.

*Wash your hands. Little One has a magical X-Men type power, which is that She works like a hygiene detector. If you don't wash up after eating your cheeseburger, Little One will tell on you by displaying red welts wherever you touch Her.

*Beware the wiggle-and-grab! We are victims ourselves, as you may recall from our ice-cream story back there. Little One is pretty good at spying your alfredo while She sits on your lap at dinner, and suddenly contorting in such a way as to get Her fingers in your plate. (And Her alfredo-y hands all over your nice outfit, if you need extra incentive).

*If you notice any little red spots popping up on Little One, or any part of Her begins to swell up, or She begins crying and clawing at Herself, call or find me or J right away.

*If She starts breathing funny, call 911 and then call or find me or J right away.


Phew. How's that for a post that is not any fun? Sorry. Little One doesn't know what all the fuss is about. She just wants to hang out with you and have fun. So please do. Just let's not invite Milk, Eggs, Peanuts, and Soy to the playdate. And don't worry, Peanut Gallery. She's not allergic to You, despite your name.

Heading North

Well I've thought about how I could ever fill you Peanuts in on all the wild drama of South that I missed out on because I just didn't know where to start. But, well, I just don't know where to start! Little One and I made friends with the whole cast of characters, plus some, and there was always something going on. If I get around to it I'll post a few stories, but I'm not sure how I'd do it without having to go into way too much detail for your itty bitty attention spans. Not that you have those. Ahem. Moving on!
I will say that overall we enjoyed our time in South. We made friends, saw sights, and soaked up the culture. We might have complained a wee bit. About the smoking, the inexplicable propensity of the locals to drive 5 miles below the speed limit...the copious lawn decor....But look. North Carolina is great!
DID you know that North Carolina is home to THE Woolworths where the lunch-counter sit-ins of the civil rights movement began? Or that the pirate Blackbeard is buried on it's shore?! Or that it has the the ONLY fossilized dinosaur heart in the world and that it is the birthplace of Krispy Kreme doughnuts?!? Well it is. Peanuts, it is.
We wanted to celebrate these Stately achievements, but all those places were far away and we are lazy. But to bid a proper farewell to NC we did honor two of it's other crowning glories. The town we stayed in, for one, happens to be where Pepsi was invented. Yes huh! Here we are, in the very spot some guy made Pepsi up a hundred years ago, never imagining that one day Britney Spears would dance around with it half naked on something called a television.

North Carolina is also special because it happens to produce more Sweet Potatoes than the whole rest of the USofA. Believe it! Sweet Potatoes are the state vegetable and everything! So we picked up a couple of local orange spuds at the farmer's market, where the collard leaves are bigger than Little One, and on our last night cooked 'em up in a real southern dinner. Fried chicken*, sweet potatoes, and collard greens. That's the spirit!

We will miss South. We will miss the friendliness, the beaches, the greenness. We will almost miss the constant pulse of DJ G's musical offerings, the inability get out the door and to the car without 20 minutes of chatting with neighbors on the way there, the excitement of some new community drama constantly unfolding. But we are happy to be heading home, where we are free of the air contamination of the ubiquitous cigarettes, and can inhale exhaust from the ubiquitous traffic snarls instead. On to the next adventure! Unpacking.

*Of course it wasn't actually fried. Or chicken, per say. But it was a soy-substitute trying very hard to dress up as some fried chicken, and that's as close as we get. It's the thought that counts. What? Yes it is too.

Temporary Insanit(ar)y

As I may have mentioned, Little One had to rather abruptly cease nursing about two weeks ago. One of the many side effects on my end of that deal is that all my hormones are freaking out, putting on their crash helmets and zooming around with the sirens on going, "What is happening?! What is happening?! What are we supposed to be doing?!?"
One of the results of this chaos occured when we were out the other day and I was suddenly overcome by the insurmountable desire- no, need- for.....pancakes. What? I don't even like pancakes! At all! It gets worse.
The imperative need to have pancakes immediately drove me to obtain them from...IHOP. What? I hate IHOP! IHOP has sticky tables. And bug zappers. In the dining room. As a matter of principle, I do not- let me repeat that- I DO NOT GO TO IHOP! I know, I know. I can't help it.
But...the pancakes....they called to me.....I...couldn't....resist.....!
J was ecstatic. Because he knew that we weren't just walking into a grimy restaurant with really good early bird specials, we were walking into an opportunity. For him to tease me, relentlessly, forever. And so he insisted on photographic evidence and a full confession.
Fine.

Here we are. We are at IHOP. I didn't want to do it, but the hormones made me. They made me do it. So I did. I ordered the cakes, got them to go, and washed everyone down with wipies in the car. And when we got home, we dressed them up and ate them. For dinner.
It's true! I admit it!!!

And I have to say....they were darn good, too.

Your Mamma Was Here

Yesterday, J and I were driving along when I noticed the following slogan in the next lane. As always you can make the picture bigger by clicking it, but in case you can't make it out, it says, "born alone, die alone."
Oooooo. Very hardcore. Very tough, Mr. Macho Pants. But here's the problem.
That's a ridiculous thing to say!
Die alone, sure. By all means, if that's your preference. But- born alone? Really? Someone forgot to have a special talk with you when you hit puberty about 10 minutes ago. And look, as a mother, I'm a bit offended.
Let me make up for what you missed in 5th grade health class, sir. Ahem. It is physically impossible to be born alone!!! What, you popped out of a cabbage patch? You sprung forth from the ether? Where was your mama, busy watching HSN and so you just teleported your little fetus-self into the hospital? And all the nurses were on break?!
Nope. When you were born, you were so un-alone that you come from inside another person's body. You don't get much closer companionship than that.
And further more, when you were born, you were a great big pain in the you-know-what. Literally. So, let's have a little respect here, Mr. Macho Pants, for the person who suffered and labored so that you could be born. So very NOT alone. Now that person was tough.

Listen...

One of the little girls at the AFC children's home in Ethiopia has faced not only the challenges of being HIV positive and losing both of her parents, but she is also deaf. AFC has done an amazing job of helping her learn to cope with this disability and providing her support, but it remains a difficult challenge.
Now, there is a possibility that she may not have to live with hearing impairment for the rest of her life. It may be possible for Mekdes to regain her hearing through surgery and treatment! This care has been pledged by a generous hospital, and the possibility of Mekdes being able to hear again is close to becoming a reality.
All that is needed is the funds for this small non-profit to get Mekdes and her gaurdian from Addis Ababa to the US. Thats it! Only two plane tickets stand in the way of changing one little girl's life forever.
If you would like to help by donating any amount of money, or if you have a frequent-flier ticket you could donate instead, please contact Abezash at abezash.tamerat@gmail.com. The sooner we can get her here, the soon she can be treated!
More information about Mekdes is available at: http://studio1080.tv/afc/mekdes.html.

8 Months

Little One is Eight months old! EIGHT! That's my favorite number!
And it has been one of my eight favorite months ever. Despite the fact that I've spent more time talking to doctors this month than to most of my friends and family, seven was still a great month, full of adventures. Here are a few of Little One's accomplishments that we haven't shared already:

Little Miss Personality
Little One is Her own special person, and Her personality has really started to come out and shine. She has definite likes and dislikes, and some decisive favorites which is a whole post in itself. What we know so far is that She's a pretty mellow girl, mostly calm and happy to be whisked along wherever we go. Or to just sit and play. Whatever. It's cool. She does have a little fight in Her though, if She's been pushed past Her limit.
For example, when the Nurses of Ineptitude were torturing Her, She whimperd and clung on to me, but tried to be good. Until a point. After which She'd had it and was not about to take it sitting down. Literally. She tried very hard to run away, completely disregarding the fact that She doesn't know how to even walk yet. She put up a pretty good fight! And I admit I was a little surprised, but found myself thinking, "good for you, kiddo." Few things get Her to that point though. Being put to bed hungry, throw-up that comes through Her nose, and being stuck with needles are pretty much it. Otherwise She'll rarely scream when a whine will do, and rarely whine when a happy noise will do.
She's fairly independent, and can play by Herself for hours if She has enough things to explore and chew on. At the same time, She is still ultra-snuggly and positively has to get a certain amount of cudding during the day, or else we get the poor-me whimper and the "up" arms.
At the moment, She's more of an intellectual than an athlete. She'd rather investigate the tiniest details on one toy than try to crawl. I have tried to encourage the crawling, by putting Her down to play on a blanket and scattering toys around the periphery, out of reach. But She believes in brains over brawn, and has realized that the best part of playing on a blanket is that if you pull and pull in just such a way, the toys come to you.

Talk to Me
She now knows that things She wants exist out there in the universe whether they are immediately visible or not, and is experimenting with different ways to get them to appear. Her drive for communicating with Big people has started to develop, and She is paying very close attention to how She can make all these idiots understand important things like, "I'm thirsty please. I need cuddles please. I want that red-fuzzy thingy with the crikley bit on the side please."
For example, Daddy feeds Little One most nights. Little One has noted that when he feeds Her, he often makes this lip-smacking num-num face. So obviously that must mean "eating time", and Little One makes sure to get our attention and show us the num-num face when She's getting hungry. She also knows that "all done" is signified by dumping Her bib contents all over Herself and the chair, since this action gets Her out of that chair pretty quick! (we're working out the kinks).
In the world of verbal communication, Little One has a VERY impressive repertoire of sounds and noises. She loves to 'sing' and to read along with stories. She can say "da da" and has twice been heard to say "Ma Mmm". She just doesn't know why everyone gets all excited about it.

Skillz
Have I mentioned that we have perfected the pincer-grasp? Little One is now a great barometer of my housekeeping ability. When She starts picking up individual dog hairs from the floor, holding them carefully in front of Her, turning them delicately with Her chubby wrist, and then dropping it to pick up another (looking to find the very tastiest one for Her snack) I know it is time to vacuum. Again.
What's that I said about dropping it? Oh yes. Little One can now drop things on purpose. This is a tough one to master, and it has led to a love affair with gravity. OOOooohhh, look! She says. I can make mommy's cell phone go waaaaay down there while She tries to placate me with it so she can buy the groceries! OOoooooohhh!! I can do it AGAIN!
Little One is very sturdy sitting up now, and can go from sitting to rolling with ease, if not always with grace. She is beginning to be able to climb, especially out of the tub that we put in the sink to bathe Her in, which makes bath time extra exciting for all of us.
Now that we are on bottles, Little One decided to take matters into Her own hands, and is very proud to have learned to hold Her own bottle. She likes the little pedialyte one from the hospital so She can drink water all by Herself with one hand, while playing with a toy with the other. She's a multitasker. She likes to hold Her formula bottles too, but not at bedtime or if She's in the mood for cuddles. Then She wants to be babied a bit, and Her parents not-so grudgingly comply.
Little One is a champ at waving bye-bye, waving hi, and playing peek-a-boo. She's working on mastering rolling a ball back to me and at putting small objects in and out of bigger ones. She's also quite the musician. She LOVES piano toys of all sorts, and when Aunt M let Her pound on her real baby-grand, Little One was ecstatic. She loves drumming on an empty formula canister, and She's also very into rattles right now. The first sign that She's up from Her naps these days is some hopping maraca music shakin' out the bedroom door.

Peeps
Little One is a people person. Sort of. She likes to be the center of attention, and even though She plays shy at first, She eats it up when people talk to Her or even look at Her, giving big smiles and happy squeals. However. There is a phase every baby hits right about now called "separation anxiety", and we are deep into it. That's it's own post too. But at the end of the day, Little One likes pretty much everyone, unless they are smoking. I am quite happy to report that Little One agrees with me on the ickiness of the smoke here in South, and when, as has often happened, a person we are talking to lights up mid-sentence, Little One is quite clear in Her disapproval. Please please let this last throughout Her teen years.

Month seven has been full of adventures. Lots of changes, bumps in the road, and new experiences. Through it all, Little One has kept growing, learning, hugging, and smiling. We learn more about Her every month as we go, and this past month we have really seen what an adaptable, easygoing girl She is. Part of that is being mellow and taking things in stride, part of it really is rolling with the punches, and She's tough in many ways too. She's been an inspiration to us in terms of being open about new experiences and people, and about living life to the fullest no matter where or how you are. Happy Birthday, Little One. We are so proud of you. Here's to a great month and to looking forward to Eight months old! My favorite number. And my favorite Little One!!!

The No Good, Horrible, Very Bad Day

Sometimes when it rains, it pours.  And sometimes it hails.  Little One was just getting over Her worst ever case of the itchies when the NGHVBDay happened.  It started with a funny noise.  Kind of like this: "irklawheeeek!  Grurrrglirklawheeeek!!"

A noise which has evolutionarily programmed me to sprint up the stairs before I even know what happened.  It was pretty cool.  Did you  know this motherhood thing has an emergency autopilot setting?! Well it does.  In like 0.73 seconds I was at the crib, finger-sweeping banana chunks out of Her airway.  You know. So She could more properly SCREAM at me.  

Something to the effect of, "I-just-puked-bananas-all-over-the-place-and now-they-are-in-my-nose-and making-me-gag-a lot-and ohmygosh-I'm-wet-too-and it's-cold-now-and everything-smells-like-pukey-banana-and mom!-I-think-I'm-not-feeling-too-good!"

She continued to play "fountain of Little One" the rest of the day. She was a cranky little fountain, too.  That would be thanks to the over 104 degree fever.  Oh dear.  

We waited and washed things, waited and washed things, but She did not spontaneously heal, and so Little One's Doctor directed us to the ER.  Where we met the Nurses of Ineptitude.  

Who must have a cute chubby person out there that they reaaally hate, because they seemed to think that Little One would make a good voodoo doll.  I'm talking 6 sticks (and really digging around for nearly half an hour) to take some blood.  I'm talking three attempts (including a split tube from trying to force it where it clearly wasn't meant to go) to catheterize her for a urine sample.  And antibiotics and blood literally spurting from Little One's leg while the nurse tried to force 5ccs into Her thigh.  And a tourniquet so tight that blood vessels all over Her arm burst open.  And then they said, "we didn't get enough blood.  We'll have to stick Her again".   At which point I had to fire them. 

After 8 long hours we took Little One, both Her ear infections, and Her UTI and began the two hour drive home. J luckily met us halfway so Aunt M could go home already- she'd stayed with us the whole time- except when she left and brought me back a milkshake (if you look closely in the pics below, you can probably see a halo there).   

Little One was so tortured and terrified and miserable by the NGHVBDay that She didn't sleep.  All. Day.  Not even in the car. Not until 11pm.  How is that even possible?!  

There was one thing that comforted Little One throughout the horrendous ordeal.  Try to guess what it was.  You'll never guess.  It wasn't the little teddy bear given to Her by the hospital volunteer.  It wasn't Her familiar blankie.   It wasn't me. See this?

Little One de-escalated into this meditative pose three distinct times during our internment in the ER.  What is She looking at?  What could be so entrancing? What did those three episodes of calm have in common?

It was Jake.  Bodies By Jake came on the hospital room TV three times while we were there, and Little One was transfixed.  Belly dancing, commercials, and aerobics with Cathe were not worthy of Her attention.  But Jake.  Jake is special.  

Little One is currently on the mend and we've put the No Good, Horrible, Very Bad Day behind us.  It was not fun.  But She's ok and I managed not to beat the Nurses of Ineptitude over their bleach-blonde heads with their own stethoscopes, and those are the things that matter.  Plus, if we ever have any other traumatic events (knock wood) at least I will know what to do.  

I will hit up blockbuster immediately for a copy of the latest edition of Jake. Stat. 

Beachy Keen

I have lots of great pictures from Little One's first ever day at the beach, but as I may have mentioned, my laptop just quit on me, no two-weeks notice or anything, and took my pictures with it. So very Jerry Maguire. This is the only one which survived by hiding on my facebook page. No worries! J will 'enhanced interrogation technique' the laptop until it gives them back.

In the meantime, here is Little One at Her first day at the beach! Little One thinks that the ocean is fun to dip toes and kick around in! (Until a little wave gets fresh and smacks Her in the booty. The nerve!) And She thinks the ocean is fun to wade into with Daddy up to his middle! (Until a big wave surprises mommy and she goes "ahh!" Which clearly means that something has gone terribly awry. Because mommy is very very brave.) Now the actual beach part- the sand that is- that is some pretty fun and amazing stuff. It's so great that it possesses a quality most objects do not. Which is that it is still fun to play with, even when mommy doesn't let Her eat it. Aww, what a cute little beach bum. The rest of Her is pretty adorable too.

Itchies and Aunties

Last week was a rough one for Little One. Her hives seemed to decide, "no more of this dillydallying. Let's recruit some reinforcements and take over this joint already". And that is what they did. They got worse and worse, until Saturday there were so many hundreds that Little One looked like a red reptile with a few white patches, and the itching was fierce. So for one thing, we gave Her some medicine. For another, after lengthy persuasion by doctory people, we stopped nursing. Again. For good.

Which I'm bummed about for several reasons. One of which is the possibility that She may use this medical data as proof, when She turns about 13, that She is, in fact, allergic to me. Dangit. None of you tell! Maybe we can hide the evidence by then.

So we figured, maybe a change of scenery would do us all good. Maybe we can run from the itchies and they won't find us! Maybe we can go somewhere fun where we won't all be sitting around going, "oh no, oh no, oh no" all day long.

So we called my Aunt M in Raleigh and said, "please please take us in!" And because she is very nice, she said yes.

J dropped us off on Sunday, and my aunt and her family made us feel like sad little boats pulling into a nice harbor after being in a storm. Ahhh.

We had so much fun that I forgot to take pictures. But we went shopping and made yummy dinners and hung out with fabulous cousins and Aunt M kept us both laughing so much we forgot all about those hives.

Especially when they went away. Which, after just one day on the fancy-dancy formula, they did. Our goodbye-itchies party was crashed, I'm afraid, by the No Good, Horrible, Very Bad Day, but that's another story. Despite the NGHVBDay, Little One and I were very grateful for

family and generosity and being taken care of, and we had a lot of fun. Thank you Aunt M,

Uncle L, and Cousins! Thank you for allowing Little One and I to inflict ourselves and our issues upon you for days in a row, and please know that you are welcome to seek revenge any time you please. We love you!

Lifeline

Somewhere in Virginia, there is a girl we'll call Ellie, because that is her name.  When Ellie is not saving animals as a vet by day, she is superheroing around, saving vegans from hunger.   After hearing my tales of pork and woe, Ellie could see that drastic action was needed, and so she put on some spandex and a cape (probably) and emergency airlifted some vital supplies to the wilds of South, saving us all.  "What the heck is that stuff?" You non-vegans ask.  It's injera, sillies.  Does that clear it up for you? Oh.  Well injera is the spongey flat-bread upon which the great majority of Ethiopian food is built.  And it is our favorite.  And it is definitely not available for pick-up in South.  Look how yummy it is!  Little One couldn't even wait to unwrap it, it was so delicious.  

So I threw together some makeshift wat 

(the stuff on top, deprived ones) and we gobbled it up immediately.  Mmmm.  Down here in South, there are some very happy displaced Yankees, very grateful to have been rescued from vegi-famine.  

And we just know that out there somewhere, there is a veterinarian who may or may not be wearing spandex and a cape, who is definitely (we think) staring off into the south as the sun sets with her hands on her hips saying, "my work here is done".  

Thank you Ellie!!!!!