catchin up, again!

first sledding


bliss


stuck


very, very excited about the elmo dvd

back home

After Long Hiatus...

The Holiday Shelf


Girl about to Fly


Waiting in Line to See Santa at Macy's


Heading to points North for a week! Happy Holidays everyone. Snowy baby pictures on the way!

Girl, Peeking

Dancing with the Stars

The General Progression of Mealtime

Baby Mullet

Anna Jane has quietly expressed her hairstyle preference. Mullets for the whole family.

Girl and Baby, Inspired by Jimi

How the Turkey Travels

I Guess This Is What One-Year-Olds Do For Fun

I didn't put the baby in the drawer, I swear.

MeeMee

The first thing she says in the morning is "meemee," meaning music, meaning, put some on so we can dance. Well, it used to mean put some on, but now it means get Daddy to play some on his new guitar. Here are the happy pair enjoying a little post-tubby meemee.

1

A brief retrospective of our napping birthday girl...

This Time Last Year

I had no idea what was ahead. It was a normal past-due-date morning. I waddled around. I ate. I read without absorbing anything. We waited. We had no idea what was coming our way:

Girl Takes on Cortelyou Road

Early Birthday Present

When it came in the mail we couldn't wait until Friday to add the rocker onto Anna's bike. Think she likes it?

Paperwork

So Since last November 20th I've been meaning to correct a mistake I made on Anna's birth certificate. I vaguely remember some papers shoved into my hands an hour or so after giving birth. Where it said "Mother's name," I wrote my name. Where it said "Mother's maiden name," I wrote MY mother's maiden name. I mean. I had just given birth. I was a little distracted. I'd only ever written my own mother's name in response to a question like that.

A month later when the birth certificate came in the mail, we entered into a several-month-long storm of fruitless paperwork. You need a court order to change your name, they kept saying.

I said, I don't need to change my name.I just wrote the wrong one. They said, then you need to change that name. And you need to come to court. And you need to do it before she turns one.

So a couple of days ago, I decided it was time, and I called to find out where exactly to go. The sweet genius of a woman on the line told me all I had to do was go back to the hospital where she was born and they'd do it for me, no court order, no problem.

SO I packed Anna into the carrier in her bunny hat and walked off through the rain to the mother and baby unit on the 5th floor to see Brenda, who'd told me when I called, Now honey what in hell did you want to write your mama's name for? Why do you girls always do that? You march on down here right now and Brenda will sort you out.

And so I marched down 8th avenue in the mist and I remembered almost a year ago now the crisp dark in the backseat of Beth and Kenny's station wagon as they drove us down the same street. Contractions at the streetlights and breath fogging the windows.

Anna and I turned left and pushed through the main doors, up in the elevator to the 5th floor. Last year: contraction in the elevator. Another contraction in the elevator. Another contraction on the way to the desk. Another contraction in the waiting room chair.

Doors opened at the 5th floor, and we pushed open the swinging doors to the mother and baby unit and asked for Brenda. Waiting at the desk as they paged her, clutching the defunct birth certificate as my big girl's long legs hung halfway down my thighs, something about the orange gleam of the floor tile and the crisp walk of the busy nurse and the woman pushing the impossibly tiny pink burrito in the plastic bassinet around the corner so, so slowly. . . all of a sudden my head rang with memory. The buttons on the bed, and the lactation consultant with the Irish brogue, and the way we sat up watching her, watching Anna breathe. Which she kept miraculously doing. Along with making her mouth into the tiniest possible o. And suddenly staring up at us like she was as thirsty for our faces as we were for hers.

As we waited for Brenda, Anna pointed to the lights, the exit sign, the pink burrito in the plastic bassinet, coming around the corner again, so, so slowly. Baby, she said. Baby, baby, baby. Yep, baby, I said. Anna kicked her legs in her big girl shoes.

We handed over the bum birth certificate and various bits of paperwork to Brenda's emissary, she disappeared back through the swinging doors, and that was that. I stared for a moment through the glass of the nurses' station into the nursery where the newborns were lined up under the grow-lights, and then Anna thumped me on the chest and said Home. Home, home, home.

And so we went. Almost a whole year later.
Home again, home again, jiggety jog.

Girl on Chair with Sweater and Bunny

Saturdays in the Park with Daddy #2: the Slide

Saturdays in the Park with Daddy

Fort

Halloween Bug

Anna Enjoys Being in a Bucket

Society Girl

Who knew she'd make the society pages before the age of one. Click here to see the girl and her Daddy in there with some Versaces and Rothschilds. Look out, world! (Look for the Prospect Park Alliance Ball)

Pirate Playground

11 Months Old Today!

Today was a day of two trips to the playground and some sand eaten and some sand shared, and graham crackers and a walk on the Promenade in golden October light with dear friends, and playing "boo" and climbing stairs and waving at strangers and laughing with friends and eating (of course) waffles. And picking small things up off the ground. And handing them over, and then taking them back. And reaching for daddy when he got home. And staring up at the leaves against the sky, blue, and playing "boo" some more. And listening to stories and not wanting to go to sleep and standing up in bed wanting more day. And finally, finally, the thumb popped in, a sigh or two, and she sprawls out like a starfish, our big girl, 11 months old.

"Nanana Beebee"

Concert with Dog and Grandpa Mark

Four Generations

Jean Jacket Picture #1

Her new favorite game: going behind door, closing door, immediately opening door and saying "BOHHHH", immediately closing door, etc, etc, etc, etc.

Jean Jacket Picture #2

Perpetual motion machine:

Jean Jacket Picture #3

The Visit

Anna Enjoys her Chair

Sunday

At the Turkish Festival in the Nethermeade this afternoon, two women with mouths full of golden teeth swooped over to Anna and took her for a whirl around the muddy grass as the band played. At least that's how I imagine it, I wasn't there. All morning it rained but by late afternoon the skies cleared. When I met Anna and her Daddy we shared a spicy lamb sandwich and saw the world champion arm wrestler. If you lasted 5 seconds arm wrestling with him you got a free tee shirt. Not many people were getting tee shirts. One tiny woman with a thick accent told me that she got a tee shirt just for trying. We walked around and the band played and the singer warbled and the men at the booth selling sofas looked bored and damp. We headed for the playground. Another good Sunday in Brooklyn.

Progress

Post-Bath-Baby

10 Months, 4 Days

Just Before the Lens Was Licked

Tantrum

So, it was time to leave the playground this afternoon, because the diaper needed changing and I hadn't brought any, because the girl was rubbing-her-eyes tired and weaving around the playground trying to eat gum wrappers and pigeon feathers. So I picked the girl up and headed for the stroller. Upon seeing the stroller, the girl locked her legs around my waist, gripped my arm and shot me a look. Ignoring the look, I detached her and aimed her for the stroller. At which point she arched her back and howled like I have never seen her howl. She didn't see me giggling I'm sure, since her eyes were squeezed shut and she was concentrating so hard on bending backwards and stiffening up and yelling. I picked her up again as the row of nannies checking their blackberries as they pushed babies in the swings looked up to see what I was going to do. I looked at her. She'd stopped arching and screeching and was sitting comfortably on my hip surveying the playground. She grinned. I tried again with the stroller, thinking if I got her in there quick and started pushing she might not even notice. She noticed. She arched and screeched and hollered and turned red. The nannies grinned and kept on staring, their charges left un-swung. I noticed that when she yells that loud, you can see all of her eight teeth at once, which is hilariously adorable. So we played a little more at the playground, in spite of the diaper. She whacked the slide a few times, crawled under the climber after an acorn, was hugged around the head by a toddler. When we left, the three of us (baby, stroller, mama) were together, yet not in the usual configuration. Baby on hip, happy. Stroller empty and pushed one-handed, probably happy enough. Mama, bemused and slightly lopsided, wondering about all that is to come. . .

10 Months Old!!

All of a sudden I realize I haven't kept track of so many firsts. I thought I would never forget which day the first step was, or the first clap, or the first wave, but all of a sudden here she is ten months old, taking steps, clapping away, dancing enthusiastically to Brazilian funk, waving her entire arm when people approach and when they recede. The only time she sits still is to pull all of her books off of her shelf, several times a day, and to page through them saying "bbbeeee beeeebebeeebbee!" and "dah!" and roaring when there's something furry in the picture. Ten months old! Eight teeth! Grubby knees! Ten months old, a good day for a ride with Daddy in her chariot.

Mountaineer

With a finger hold from Uncle Willis, Anna scales the furniture.