It’s Not All Mary Poppins

Introducing Jazz

I am starting a new baby in a couple of weeks. High time I named the OLD new baby, isn’t it?

She’s Jasmine. Jasmine because she’s fine-boned, delicate, and very sweet. We shall be calling her Jazz, though, because she is also lively, strong-willed, and quirky.

What makes her quirky?

I think it’s the combination of a very strong personality with lots of good manners. So, even as she’s refusing to do… well, anything at all, on a particularly feisty day, she’s doing it very politely.

“Let’s get our boots on, so we can go outside!”

“No, thank you.”

“If you do that, Tyler will be sad. You don’t want to make Tyler sad!”

“Yes, please.”

She isn’t often that negative, though. Jazz is, for the most part, utter sunshine. Even when she’s being contrary, she does it with the most cheerful demeanor possible. I don’t think this is a conscious desire to manipulate through charm. She just is that charming!

She’s tiny. Food is not real high on her list of interests. It seems clear to me that her parents, frightened by dire words from doctors, have decided that any calories are good calories for their featherweight daughter. The child would subsist on nothing but bread if you let her… and I think, once she’s ingested a mouth or two of other stuff, she’s pretty much allowed to do that.

We’ll be working on that. šŸ™‚

I hope to convince her parents that she can be trusted to consume what her body needs, so long as they provide it to her. Which is to say, give her protein, vegetables and fruit in decent quantities, and keep the bread to an occasional event. At first she’ll refuse to eat at all, expecting that she can assuage her hunger as she always does, but when the bread isn’t forthcoming and she’s allowed to experience the hunger that’s the result of this choice… she’ll eat.

I know she will, because she’s beginning to do it here. She now tries everything I serve. She doesn’t eat a lot. I don’t think she ever will be a big eater, but then, she’s not a big child.

She will eat a lot more if I let her hang around underfoot as I prepare meals. Those beans she point-blank refused while they were on her high chair tray gain dramatic new appeal when they’re pulled from the bowl on the counter and eaten off my fingertips…

Do I expect her to eventually ingest real meals without a fuss with the rest of us? Of course I do, and I’m confident she’ll get there. First I want her to become a little more experimental, and we’re achieving that. She eats far more now than she did when she started with me a couple of months back. Besides, it amuses me that standing in the kitchen, noshing off my spoon, she’ll eat the things that horrify her in her highchair.

Quirky, she is.

She is often one of the first to arrive. She greets subsequent arrivals as if they’re beloved relatives she hasn’t seen in YEARS!!! Cries of joy and open arms, hugs and kisses all round. And then she must race to their storage bin to fetch their slippers. All the while declaring her joy and intent in vigorous one- or two-word sentences.

“Tyler!”
“Tyler come!”
“Kiss, Tyler!!”
“Kiss! Hug!”
“S’ippuh! Tyler s-ippuh!”
“On! Sippuh on!”

Adorable. I think you’ll be hearing a lot more about Jazz.

Now that she has a name.

April 5, 2011 Posted by | food, individuality, Jazz | 5 Comments

I’m not the only one

who deals with poo.

April 4, 2011 Posted by | eeewww, my kids | 1 Comment

What to do…

A situation arises from time to time which, even after all these years, I am not entirely sure how to respond to. It doesn’t happen that often, but I’ve been doing this for long enough — over 22 years now — that I’ve run into this situation quite a number of times. Whatever option I consider, and there really only seem to be three, feels… odd. Hm. Maybe it’s only two options, one with two variants. I dunno.

I’ll put it to you, my dedicated readers. It’s the smaller segment of you male-type readers who will be most helpful on this one, I’m sure.

So… you open up a tiny boy’s diaper, and reveal an equally tiny, but quite determined little erection… and assuming it lasts through the diaper change and you’re about to package it up again…

What, exactly, do you do with it?

It seems to me that to pretend it’s not happening, and just flip the front of the diaper over top of it… well, I have to think that would be uncomfortable for the poor guy. I mean, I know I don’t have one of my own, but I’m not totally inexperienced with these things. I’ve seen guys making … adjustments (some of them less discreet than others, ahem). So it strikes me that if the grown-up version finds 90 degree contact with the BVD’s unpleasant, the teeny version probably does, too.

But, if it’s not a kindness to just slap the diaper down on top, what exactlyis required? Do you point it north (which, for some reason, strikes me as logical), or south? And if you’re going to make the adjustment for the boy… how? Because, though I’m perfectly comfortable scrubbing at those things with a diaper wipe, don’t give it a second’s thought, I confess that to handle them for any other purpose, no matter how kindly intentioned, makes me a bit squeamish.

I find myself working my way through this musing loop every time it happens, but to date I have never done anything but flop that diaper down over top. If it’s uncomfortable, the boy will just have to sort it out himself. One could reasonably argue that knowing how to adjust the junk is a Male Life Skill.

Rory? Rory has not yet learned this life skill. The poor lad just crossed the room in front of me, waddling bow-legged. Looking like he just spent the last three days astride a horse and hasn’t quite gotten his land legs back.

And I probably shouldn’t find it quite so amusing, should I?

April 1, 2011 Posted by | random and odd, Rory | 10 Comments