Nine months old

I'm nine months old!

I'm big enough to sit in a high-chair and eat crackers at restaurants now. For some reason, Dada kept telling me to say "I'm gonna make you an offer you can't refuse" while I was sitting here. He's crazy.

I met some friends at the restaurant, but I don't really get what I'm supposed to do with friends. I can't suck on them or anything.

I went to my friend Anne's art opening. I'm very sophisticated in my taste.

I helped Dada shovel a lot of snow. His scarf kept my well-endowed cheeks warm, and my head kept his cheeks warm. Shoveling is easy.

I grabbed Mama's piece of black licorice and found something I really like besides milk. Mama says I have good taste.

There's nothing like playing with a rubber ducky in the bath.

How would you like to open a present to find me inside? I bet you'd be pretty excited.

I coordinated my outfit with Mama one Sunday.

Hi.

This is the face I make when I'm really excited. Also, sometimes I poop on all of my clothes except my sweater.

This is the face I make when I'm annoyed. I'm annoyed a lot lately.

Don't I look cozy?

Here are the scrubs Grandma Jane got me. Yeah, I'm qualified to wear them. M.D.? Milk Drinker? Helloooo!

Here I am in the hat Grandma Q. made for me--this time she made sure it was plenty big for my genius-sized head. Also, I love this measuring cup. So. much.

This picture makes my mouth water.

I love to cuddle with Mama. Don't you wish you could cuddle with a cow?

Nine months old today!

* * *

I can't believe Zoë has now been outside of me as long as she was inside. We sure love her. She just gets more and more fun.

Zoë's tricks: Any time she hears music she immediately starts "dancing" by moving her torso to the beat and nodding her head. Also, any time she hears the words "yay!" she claps. High, high screeching has accompanied "ba ba ba," "ga ga ga," and a soft "ta ta ta." She points to herself with a flat hand (sometimes) when we say "Zoë." Anytime she finds herself on her back, she attempts to sit up using only her stomach muscles--no arms. She gets this really strained look on her face and actually make it up pretty far. Once or twice she has nearly sat up on her own by hesitatingly relying on one arm. She goes from sitting up position to hands and knees and rocks (getting ready to crawl soon!) and she can basically pull herself up into a standing position. She can scoot around on her tummy and grab things. All in all, for not crawling yet, she is much more mobile.

Zoë likes: Sitting or standing. Buttons, paper, tags--the usual. Her red phone. Dancing to Michael Jackson's "Wanna be startin' somethin'" (and to a lesser degree "Beat it" and "Thriller") with Josh. Sitting in the shopping cart at the grocery store. Chewing on her rubber duck's head. Swimming. Bathtime. Working on her "computer" next to me while I'm working. Grandparents. Biting me when she's bored of nursing.

Zoë doesn't like: Walks (too cold!). Lying down for any reason. Reading books without chewing on them. Church (unless she's being held by Kristin). Not being entertained.

(Why won't Blogger let me left align the above text? Arg!)

I knew there was a reason . . .

. . . to not be a clean freak. I can't stand clutter or disorder in my house (which isn't to say there isn't any), but I'm not especially concerned about microbes. I clean, but I don't regularly disinfect. But it turns out, according to this, that's a good thing! And that article also explains why Zoë would rather suck an anything (especially if it's been on the floor) than on food.

Now if someone could just tell me why phones, computers, and remote controls are so much more alluring than toys.

Needed:

One baby face mask with extra fabric in the cheek regions.

Zoë just left on a walk with Josh huddled under a hat, hooded coat, and four blankets but there was nothing to put on those fat cheeks!

The Times They Are A'Changin'

Two years ago to the week, Josh was headed up to Park City for a job at the Sundance Film Festival, when our car Timothy blew up (one of many blow ups, as you know). So he walked a few miles in the snow to the nearest gas station. While he waited for me to drive to Park City and rescue him, he watched a docu-drama (directed by Micahel Winterbottom, one of his favorites) called Road to Guantánamo on his iPod.

When I picked him up, he was terrified. Terrified of the arbitrary nature of the arrests many prisoners at Guantánamo suffered and terrified by the fact that they couldn't get a trial. The fact that Josh has experienced genunine racial profiling (once by the FBI even! during the Salt Lake Olypmic games) made the issue all the more scary to him.

I know I've recommended this before, but to really understand the tragic magnitude of the violations of Habeas corpus--the right to be charged with a crime--and how prevelant such violations were at Guantánamo, listen to this. You won't regret it.

Well, today President Obama officially ordered the closure of Guantánamo. And I don't care what else happens during his presidency, he has now made good on his campaign mantra if you ask me. This is a change that matters.

For a hilarious look at a "Gitmo closing ad," go here. Thank you, SNL.

Baby beluga

"Baby beluga in the deep blue sea, you swim so wild and you swim so free . . ." Remember that Raffi song? Well our "little white whale on the go" started swimming lessons yesterday. She was too cute in her little swimming suit. She was a bit overwhelmed by so much water and so many people (especially having just awoken from a nap), but she had a lot of fun.

First, we practiced kicking (a skill that, the youngest in the class, doesn't interest Zoë) to get rubber ducks (eating the duck definitely does interest her).

Then we practiced "jumping" off the side of the pool on the count of three. This part got a little cold.

This was followed by the most exciting part of the lesson--head dunking. Placing one's child's head underwater rather goes against motherly instinct, I have to say. But I placed my faith in the hands of the swimming teacher, blew hard into Zoë's face to induce breath holding, and dunked away. Though it's hard to see in this picture, she came out a bit surprised and blinking, but otherwise happy. This means, I was told, she did indeed hold her breath. Amazing!*

Next came the backfloat, which went well except instead of lying flat, this whale likes to . . .

. . . suck on her toes, of course.

Overall, it was a fun excuse to splash and cuddle and pretend like it's not the freezing middle of January.

*My mom tells me that as an "early" talker, I was the only baby in a similar class that could say "No Mommy, please don't put my head under the water! Please!" If Zoë could say that, it would all be over. Instead, I prefer to think that she likes the development of this new skill.

Happy inuaguration!

It was a happy day indeed.

I haven't felt so patriotic in years.

What a great speech.

What a great president.

Hooray!

And in the spirit of happy, here were the things that made me laugh from the ceremony:

The pronunciation of "Malia" and "Sasha" in the first prayer. My mom, who was watching with her second graders, said they all repeated "Sasha" immediately after he said it. Who didn't?

The benediction ending with "we ask you to help us work for that day when black will not be asked to get in back, when brown can stick around ... when yellow will be mellow ... when the red man can get ahead, man; and when white will embrace what is right."

And to celebrate this historic day, we (well, mostly Josh) spent way too long tonight making these:

(You can make your own here.)

Finally, not only do we have a at least four years of great leadership ahead of us, we also have at least four years to make up new words containing the name "Obama." Have you noticed that it's particularly easy to do so? For instance, I'm "Obamamama" to "Zoebama."

Can you tell I'm a little giddy?

Listless

Yes, this post is going to start out with another "how Motherhood has changed me" observation.

See, I used to be the kind of person who would write detailed, page(s) long New Year's resolutions, which I was ready to "implement" by midnight of the 31st.

And I kept a lot of them (including that most common resolution of all. I lost my 20 "grad school pounds" six or seven months after my January 2007 resolution to do so). Every January that I can remember has begun with much budgeting, reading, exercising, cleaning, and the like, with all of it kept track of on a very organized list.

I like lists, or I did before--here it is--Motherhood happened.

I don't think I've written a "real" list since I had Zoë. Sure, I may scrawl two or three things down on the back of an envelope if I'm having an especially busy day, but those don't count, not when compared to the small notebook I found a while ago that pre-M was used only for lists. Lists written neatly and organized with utmost care to ensure maximum efficiency. Lists that started with 5:30 trips to the gym, ended with specified numbers of papers to be graded before bed, and included minutia such as emails to write in between.

So what's to blame (or thank) for listless living now? Listlessness? At first I thought as much. Pre-M, if there was one thing I hated more than not having a list, it was not crossing out everything on one. When my adventures in Motherhood began, my list--had I written one--would have often looked like this:

Feed baby
Shower

with the first defying a "completed" crossing out by virtue of never being over and the second by representing a major feat. In other words, maybe I no longer write lists because their contents would drive me crazy.

But it's not that. The thing is that I no longer live in lists either. The success of my day is no longer judged by how much I can pack into it, how quickly I can finish it, what I have to show for it, and what it may get me in the future.

Instead, the post-M me has been forced to live in that other "m"-word. The Moment. Now. Which is also eternity. I enjoy, I cuddle, I get bored, I clean up poop, I nurse, I play, I smile, I revel. But I don't really plan. And I don't do for the sake of doing. For the first time that I can remember, I just am. And I am with. And I am here.

And it's nice.

But it's also hard to get used to.

So all of this is to say, I was at a loss for resolutions when December 31, 2008 rolled around. And I still wasn't ready to make any on January 1, or 2, or 3 . . .

Then Danielle posted this, which was such a good idea (accompanied by such a cute baby), that I decided to try it on for size. And it fits. And here is mine--with a logo to boot!

Because what all of those lists were lacking--though they did a great job of seeing me through days of full-time school + full-time job + teaching + everything else--was purpose. The kind of purpose that comes from looking at the big picture and exploring complexities that can't be captured in a column of phrases.

So over the next days--when the mood strikes me--I'll be exploring the contours of this motto and what it might mean physically, emotionally, intellectually, artistically, and spiritually (in no particular order).

The only benefit . . .

. . . to having your sister live in San Francisco instead of down the street are packages like the one we got in the mail yesterday with this cute dress from Chinatown.

I wanted to get some of Zoë standing up to get the full effect, but she looks so old! It makes me kind of sad.

The gloves are a perfect fit and look great with her new brown coat.

Thanks, Diana! We love you!

Milkaholic

[Recently overheard]

Hi, my name is Zoë. I'm a milkaholic.

(Group response: Hi, Zoë.)

At first, I started drinking socially--you know, to hang out with Mommy. You guys know Mommy, right?

But then I started wanting milk all the time: when I was hungry, when I was thirsty, when I was bored, when I got hurt, when I was scared, when I was lonely. You name it.

I drink milk lying down and sitting up.

I'm embarrassed to say that sometimes I even wake up in the middle of the night and drink milk. In bed! In the dark! Sometimes I drink so much that I throw it up afterwards.

Don't try inviting me to a formal event. I'll end up screaming for milk half way through. I've crashed many a Sacrament meeting and concert. I've also made Daddy come home half-way through a shopping trip by pretending I was mortally wounded, when really I just wanted some milk.

I've tried turning to solid food instead, but it's just not the same. I always end up going back to milk. That creamy, warm, delicious . . . what was I saying?

Sometimes I can't leave Mommy's side at all. Because even if I'm not drinking milk, I'm thinking about it and I want to make sure it's available within diving distance.

Anyway, I know that at these meetings, you guys always say I need to turn to a higher power, but all I can say is that the only higher power I know is also my milk supplier!

So, to end, I've been sober for about twenty minutes now, but I don't think it's going to last much longer.

See you next week.

(Lest you get the wrong idea, I love the fact that Zoë is a milkaholic. I don't even mind the night feedings.)

Family pictures

While Jon and Diana were in town, we decided (kind of spur of the moment) to take some family pictures. We were limited by the fact that a) we had to use a tripod, b) that tripod was broken and therefore could not be moved from the sidewalk, c) I still don't know how to use my camera, and d) there was no one to get Zoë to look at the camera.

However, I like the idea of them, the setting (which we weren't able to fully utilize), and the colors we were wearing.

The setting. Can you see the deer at the end of this row?

A couple favorites. I know you would never have noticed this had I not pointed it out, but Diana has a camera and cell phone stuffed into her back pocket in the first picture. She is not natrually so well endowed in that area.

I like this picture a lot and I wish we could have taken more like it--but, as you can see, Josh is missing because he was snapping the shot.

I think Zoë's tights mirrored almost all of our colors--we are that coordinated. Hah. Happy coincidence.

I love this one (but I wish it wasn't so flashy).

This one makes me laugh because I think they look like zombies--especially my dad. Cute zombies.

Afterwards we had a fun family lunch at Guru's. Zoë loved chewing on that copper table.

The only halo Jesse will probably ever have.

The afternoon light reflecting off the copper tables was really cool.

I couldn't decide between these.

These were a different day all together, but they fit the category.

A good attempt for 2008--hopefully they'll be even better in 2009.