Nana to the Rescue (Again)!

Note to self: Another thing good mothers sometimes do is replace precious items that go missing due to circumstances beyond your control.

When Nana called to say a new Flip video camera was on its way to me in the mail, I was overjoyed. She said she'd read my sob story on the blog and decided to take action. Isn't that sweet? I never suspected a public tale of woe could be so profitable.

The new camera arrived just a day before we met Nana & Cousin Brian in Monterey. But apparently I lost some of my hard-won videography skills along with my last camera, because this was one of my first attempts at new footage:




You wouldn't know it by looking here, but this was the absolute coolest slide I've ever ridden. And it was just a really tall, brightly painted, cushy-ground-surrounded version of something you might find in a potato packing warehouse, rolling things (in this case people) along. Even though it was 3000 degrees out in Monterey at the time, Django & I climbed to the top of this thing and waited in long lines -- again, and again, and again, and again -- for the sheer, bumpity-bump, joy of it.




I fared a little better at home, in more temperate weather, one morning when Django & Max had decided to practice "jump"ing off the couch (from sitting.) It was one of those moments that struck my funny-bone because they were so very proud of themselves, and happily narrating all the while. How quickly we forget how hard it was to learn to operate these bodies we're in!




And speaking of milestones, Django & has started to get really into imaginative play. He pretends to open and close things, to cut things, to drive things. Lately, he's been doting on Cookie Monster with the majority of his affection and demands. He feeds Cookie, and tells me all the things Cookie is doing, has or needs -- including TLC after imaginary injuries: "Cookie owie foot kiss; other foot kiss." He even tells me when Cookie needs to nurse "Mama nook" and when Cookie needs to change breasts. In this video, Cookie's already had a lot of "wawamelon" for breakfast and is now finishing off by gulping "cow nook" and saying "ahhhhh" afterward. (Oh, and Django's spinning is another new thing. He doesn't usually do it while also attempting other feats, so this clip of early multitasking will probably be a collector's item someday.)




Last for tonight, but not least, a little music video. Personally, I prefer any of Django's harmonica, zylophone or ukele playing to this particular song on the piano, but it was a public performance at the Bay Area Discovery Museum and he did go at it with much gusto. Plus, if I had a dollar for every person who thought -- if you can imagine it -- that I named him Jangles, as in Bo Jangles, his tip jar would be full.

Quick Getaway

After a week in which your toddler gets the stomach flu, your oven loses its mind and your washing machine goes on the blink, you don't just want a getaway -- you need one.

Lucky for us, Nana & Cousin Brian were going to the Monterey Bay Aquarium last Saturday and invited us to tag along. The Aquarium was crazy-crowded, as usual, but Django was fearless -- and thrilled. Loud noises, wiggling creatures, wet things to touch: what fun.

Nana also got us our own (first) motel room. Giant cable tv, bouncy bed, unlimited snacks, restaurant meals, and multiple book readers at the ready: I think that's when Django figured out we
were really on vacation. We also got to ride in a paddle boat, feed cheese puffs to geese, and play at the coolest playground we've seen yet -- the Dennis the Menace playground at the Estero.

If anybody else wants to sponsor our company on their weekend escape, just tell us where to be and when. We'd be happy to join you, especially if you intend to be as wonderful to us as Nana & Cousin Brian were.

Making Sense of Holidays

I don't know if it had something to do with all the extra time for quality conversation that Django & I had over Spring Break, but I noticed a new twist to our communications. It isn't just me who guides the subject matter anymore. He's now got his own things to say about his day. And I don't mean just his own things to say about what happens in the present or what he wants to happen next. He's been narrating that way for a while.

The big difference is that now he talks about what happened in the past. Like the other night, when I was telling Elmo all about our whirlwind weekend as we lay in the dark headed for sleep, Django reminded me of two things I completely forgot to mention -- "goat brush" and "rabbit rattle rabbit truck rabbit ball" -- both of which I thought I'd better document with photographs in the last post since they seemed so important to him.

As it happened, the significance of him chiming in on my weekend report didn't register right away. Yeah, you're right, you did brush a goat at a zoo, was what I said aloud. And, uh-huh, that's true, you did play with a rabbit's rattle, truck and ball when we were volunteering and visiting Save-A-Bunny. In fact, it probably wasn't until a few nights later when -- in similar circumstances, reviewing the events of the day -- he told me "telephone Tedra" that I started to believe he might really be participating in my reflection. I thought he might have been telling me he heard Tedra talking on the phone, but when I asked her about it the next morning she said Django had been playing with her phone a lot the day before.

I was incredulous, then proud, and shortly thereafter...terrified.

This is a whole new game. He not only understands what I say, he can correct me on my content. I'm sure questions are right around the corner. And what on earth is he going to end up asking me about things like Easter? How am I going to make sense for him out of hunting for colored eggs in the grass, people dressed as rabbits, baskets of candy, a mythical resurrection and roast lamb for dinner? It can't even make sense of all that for me.

Spring 'Break'?

Django spent the first 2/3 of Spring Break 2009 saddled with a stomach virus, but he was in such relatively good spirits that I spent a day or two with my head in the sand. Unless you recognize the flourescent orange color of the liquid in the sippy cup below, you might not know he was drinking Pedialyte, after spending the better part of the day at the Tilden Little Farm in Berkeley -- until he had so many poo-splosions that I ran out of outfits and we had to come home. Luckily, this was about the same time he started to develop a serious crush on the garage door, so he was plenty entertained for the rest of his quarantine.

When Django finally did bounce back to complete health, we went out and made up for lost fun -- triple time. We visited the zoo, the beach, Bubba Mike's new office downtown, then did some bake-sale baking at home, and some bunny-rescue volunteering in Golden Gate Park all in the span of 48 fun-filled hours.

I Miss My Flip Video Camera

Yep, that's right, it's gone. It was the best-ever present from Unk, full of almost an hour of precious baby videos plus a few minutes of nervous 4th graders practicing Science Fair presentations, and now it's gone. Swiped from school. Right off the teachers' desk, leaving only the lonely spotted sock that had held it. I'm heartbroken.

As anyone who knows me well can attest, I'm not really the type to get attached to material things, especially not gadgets. I probably purge them as often as I acquire them, and I certainly don't acquire them with any great speed or fervor. But this gadget was different. And it served a really important function in my life. Namely, it helped me avoid posting blurry, serial photos to this blog, in my attempt to capture for you the busy life of this beautiful toddler.

I don't have any idea who took it, or why they would want to keep it and carry such a karmically heavy load. But it reminded me, again, that as bad as it feels to have your trust or sense of safety/security violated, it's way better than walking around feeling like you always have to be fully defended against it. Some things just aren't worth the price of cynicism or worry. I'd rather keep my best defenses up around the things that are.

Anyway, when this blog turns into a hard copy book at the end of the year -- which is really the whole point of this exercise -- the videos can't come along. So maybe it's just as well. Just as well that I couldn't show you, firsthand, the glee with which Django & Max ran around Paul Revere Preschool at playgroup on Friday collaborating on all sorts of projects, like zylophone clanging, key stringing, book reading and tower building with these really neat cylindrical, sanded tree-trunk blocks. And just as well that you can't hear me giggling on the other side of the camera every time I try covering Django's naked booty with my skirt while he naps, only to find he's rolled back to mooning me seconds later.