Baby biscotti

I tried inventing my own recipe for teething cookies. Here's what I came up with, making it up along the way...

Ingredients

1 cup whole wheat flour
1/2 mashed banana
1 wooden spoonful of molasses
just under half a cup of sugar
1 T of vegetable oil

Combine ingredients in medium sized bowl, knead with hands until dough forms into ball. Roll ball oblong, then flatten to 1/2 inch. Place on greased cookie sheet and bake in 300 degree oven for 25 minutes. Allow to cool. Cut into 1/2" wide strips, then bake strips for 10 minutes on each side or until crisp. Yields 8 cookies.

C is for Teething Biscuit

I baked some wonderful-smelling teething biscuits/cookies for the Bee and her babyfriends this evening. They were very simple. Just 2 cups of flour, half a mashed banana, and 1/2 cup of maple syrup, combined and then rolled out on a floured surface to 1/3" thickness, cut into shapes and baked on a greased cookie sheet at 300 degrees for 35 minutes. Easy!

AND they passed the Bumble Bee Taste Test!




Incidentally, so do her shoes.

get up, stand up

Yesterday the baby, propelled by rage and indignation, stood unassisted in order to yell closer to our faces. She later did it several more times in perfect calmness, just because it was cool.




Merry Christmas Eve!



Santa comes from where now?

when it snows/ ain't it thrillin'?

Not if you ask the Bee.

This is her face when I told her we were going outside for a walk to run some errands.

Killer tofu

At dinner yesterday, I gave the baby some plain baked tofu to play with/eat while Mike and I ate our teryaki tofu. This was her first time trying tofu. She made a little yuck-face, then tried it again and decided it wasn't so bad, so she kept nibbling. All was fine and dandy until one hour later when she started screaming hysterically. Her belly was making awful gurgling, angry noises. She was screaming and crying and I was pacing the floor with her and Mike was vowing not to have any more babies and that went on for about 4 hours. And now she, Mike, and I all hate tofu.

Things are much better this morning, aside from the ongoing cold, super separation anxiety, and massive teething pain.

But I think I know how to solve all those problems at once. Hot toddies for everyone!

Wednesday

I am sick. My daughter is mad at me because I won't let her eat toilet paper. I really, really want to go to sleep. She really, really wanted to eat that toilet paper. I do not know who is more miserable at the moment.

What does she care how much it may storm?

She's got her chub to keep her warm.

First snow!

Phrases I tire of uttering

"Don't chew on mama's boot."

"Wires aren't toys."

"No playing in the recycling bin."

"Leave Daddy's glasses alone."

"Why is my phone wet?"

bouncing baby boy

Strangers are always telling me that the Bumble is such a handsome little man. I don't know why they always assume she is a boy when she is all decked out in pink flowers all the time, but they do. Constantly. So, I just let it slide. I say "Thanks!" and move on. Why correct them? It only makes them feel bad, right? So I've gotten into that habit.

On Thanksgiving, we went to Cincinnati's Krohn Conservatory, a beautiful indoor garden with a rainforest and a desert and an orchid house and a Christmas room. It was so, so lovely, especially since it was such a brutally cold and windy day. I was holding the Bumble and she was wearing a pink and brown ruffly shirt, leggings with flowers on them and her Robeez shoes with big black flowers. A woman approached us and said, "What a handsome little man!"

I smiled and said, "Thanks!" and intended to move on. But the woman kept talking.

"He's flirting with me! What a smile!"

Okay... well, if I correct her now, that's just embarrassing. What am I saying, exactly? She's a GIRL! She isn't flirting with you! Well, maybe she is flirting. I dunno. I don't know my baby's mind.

The woman continued. "Oh... he's gonna be such a ladykiller! He's gonna be a LINEBACKER! Look at how big he is!"

I just kept smiling. If I correct her NOW, I just look silly for not correcting her earlier. Besides, maybe it is the Bumble's dream to be a linebacker.

But now the lady was edging closer and closer. And I was backing up step by step. Because I didn't want the lady to suddenly notice that Bumble was bedecked in flowers. I didn't want her to suddenly realize that I was lying by omission. Why was I pretending to have a boy baby?!

The lady kept coming closer and closer. He's gonna be a linebacker for the Bengals, aren't ya, Buddy?" I kept edging away.

Closer. What a flirt!

Closer. Look at his eyes!

Closer. And then her eyes landed on Bumble's shoes. With the big floppy black flowers on the toes. Her eyes popped up to mine and there was a hint of confusion. I quickly excused myself and ran away. I need to start putting more bows on Bumble's head.

Happy first thanksgiving, Bumble!

Sorry 'bout the green bean.

Goodness

I had just gotten the Bumble to finally start taking naps in her crib when I read about the massive recall on drop down side cribs. Bummer. I think hers is pretty solid, though. We're borrowing it from my uncle and the crib is about 15 years old and has metal hardware. Plus, I never use the drop down side feature anyway. Good? I think we're good.

The baby has been a busy, busy bee, exploring the new house.



Her latest discovery yesterday was the heating vents.



Here! This is where the heat comes from! Did you know? I found it!




It's waaaaaaaaaarm


She's also finally keen on solids.



No, really, she loves apples. I don't know why she made that face. Also, peas are good and broccoli and yogurt and rice and beans.

Standing is good, too.



Especially if it to help her dad with typing, which is the BEST!

C-I-N-C-I-N-N-A-T-I

On the move here, Mike was telling me all about his Cincinnati experiences over the past few weeks. He mentioned that Cincinnati was really obsessed with the Bengals.

I said, "Bangles?"



He said, "Yeah, Bengals.



I was listening to the radio and whenever the Bengals are mentioned, people do a little chant."

Me: They what? Cincinnati has a chant about the Bangles?



Mike: "Yeah, it's like 'Who dey! Who dey! Who dey think gonna beat dem Bengals?'"

Me: WHAT? What does that even mean? Why does Cincinnati love the Bangles? Are they from there?

Mike: What...

Me: Bangles?



Mike: No.... No. Football team. Football.



And I was left to wonder why they named their football team after an '80s girl band that wasn't even FROM there.


Anyway, we love it here so far and the Bumble was amazing during the 10 hour drive here. She's been enjoying crawling around everywhere, exploring new spaces. After we get settled in, we start the process of transitioning her to her crib...

Last day

Surprisingly, Bee isn't the best help when rushing to pack and clean on the last day before the big move. She keeps crawling around, pulling herself up on boxes and then shortly falling over and crying. When she isn't doing that, she is diligently unpacking the boxes I haven't taped shut yet. Attempts to confine her in her high chair, exersaucer or pack n play are met with violent protest.

Last day last day last day

Day 10

This is generally what is happening when I trying to use the computer. No kidding-- she created a folder and FILLED IT WITH THINGS in my pictures file. She named it "[;0=_files." I am afraid to delete it in case there is anything important in there.

Day 9

So tired. Me, of course-- not her. I'm starting to doubt that I'll survive the rest of the week.

Things I desperately need, in no particular order other than rushed:

1. a shower longer than 4 minutes

2. a fresh vegetable

3. a cold, cold beer

4. a break a break ohsweetpuppies please give me a break

5. a full night's sleep

Day 8

The best toys in life are free.

Yesterday I managed to cause synchronized heart attacks in three old women waiting in line at Rite Aid. I walked in through the door wearing the Bee in the ergo, my arms wrapped around her in a little cuddle. All three old woman turned to "awwww" at the baby and that's when it happened. A lady bug bit my hand! I gave a little yip and threw my hands out to shake the bug off. The three old woman gasped and one dashed forward. I looked up in surprise and the dasher said, "Are you all right? I thought..." I said, "Oh... OH! I got bit. By a bug. On my hand. The baby, she's strapped onto to me! See?" and I showed off the ergo.

I marched off toward the back of the store to get Bee's butt wipes and I could feel their eyes on my back. I don't think they trusted me to not spaz out again. I know who to not trust anymore though. Lady bugs. Who knew they bit?

Day 7

Please ignore the state of disarray-- we are moving in a matter of days + Bee's new game is "destroy the magazine."

So, here she is. Standing. Pulling herself up on furniture and standing around. She is no longer content to stay confined in her exersaucer or high chair. Now she wants to be exploring her mobility and seeing things from a whole new level. She wants to see if she can lick the television. (She can.)

help

Day 6: So SCARY

Bumble's favorite toys: Cords, buttons, batteries, and dead bugs from under the couch. WHY DON'T YOU LIKE YOUR TOYS? I am going to have a panic attack by the end of next week. Every time I blink, she is discovering yet another thing we failed to baby-proof. She zeroes in on it and she's there like a shot. Lamp can be pulled down from the table? BAM! It's down. Who knew babies liked to gnaw on slippers? Why does she eat all the paper?? How did she get so mobile so fast?

I am so doomed.

Day 5

There was a bit of a cold snap last night, so the Bee and I cuddled together in the living room, turned on the space heater and watched hours of television. Well, I did. She methodically ripped apart a magazine. I fished out pieces out of her mouth during commercial breaks. Bread is disgusting, but she'll gladly eat paper. Babies.

Day 4

Good morning. It's us. We're in a pretty jolly mood considering the fact that we woke up about 99 times last night. Possibly more than that, actually. I think we slept in 15 minute increments. Now it's the Bumble's naptime and she is showing no signs of sleepiness. How is this possible?

Day 3

I cannot wait to join Mike. Life with the Bee is like living with an extremely particular and snobby caveman.

of course

I knew she'd wait until Mike was gone for this.

Day 1

So, we're moving to Cincinnati. Have I said that yet? I can't remember. Anyway, Mike's new job started today, so he is out there already. The Bumble and I will be joining him in two weeks, when we will hopefully have a house to move into. In the meantime, it is just the two of us, packing up boxes and trying not to go insane.

We'll be alright. We've got a huge box of Lucky Charms for me, a big container of yogurt for Bumble (her favoritest food in the universe), and a Netflix queue loaded with girly movies I can finally watch without criticism or judgment. So I thought.




I guess the Bee is not a fan of "Little Women."


Today, her cough is finally gone, the sun is out, and I've had my morning coffee. We are both ready to take on the world.

fall

It's fall all over the place here.

The Bee has been taking in all the beautiful colors of the fall foliage.


I introduced her to the tradition of fall baking.


She didn't like it.

just a note

MamamamamamamamamamamamuahahahahahahahahahaAHEM.

The Beezer said "mamamamama" before "dadadadada." Just noting. Not bragging or anything. Nope, just a note. Just jotting it down for the baby records. Just a thing that happened. Yup. Mamama before Dadada. That's all.

Give peas a chance

PEAS! PEAS? PEAS.

Eye am teyered

I was lying next to Bumble, hoping to catch a little shut-eye while she played beside me, when I was suddenly roused from my drowsy haze by an acute pain in my right eye. The little blessed Bumble had tried to scratch out my eye. Again. I wonder how many babies have successfully yanked out their mother's eye?

I imagined what would happen if she succeeded. I'd have to call Mike at work to drive me to the hospital. It would probably take a couple of attempts to pick up the phone since my depth perception would be gone. Mike would come home and probably put my eye in a glass of milk without knowing why. We'd walk down the block to the car, me holding my hand over my empty socket, Mike holding the wriggly baby in one arm, the glass of eye-milk in his other hand stretched out of baby's reach. I bet they don't let you drive if you only have one eye. I'd have to wear an eye patch for the rest of my life. Would the baby feel guilty when she realized what she had done? Would she methodically remove one eye from all her dolls? Would she need excessive therapy? Would I?

secret babbler

Bumble never seems to want to talk to Mike and me, no matter how we prompt her. She usually just smiles, laughs and blows a raspberry. I wasn't worried, per se, but I did find it curious since my friends' kids were all "dada"-ing all the time at her age. Well, apparently, she just been practicing in secret and is too shy to try it out in front of us. Maybe she has performance anxiety. This morning I woke up to the sounds of Bumble babbling to herself. I pretended to stay asleep and heard her say all sorts of "fafa" "baba" nonsense. But when I opened my eyes and spoke to her, she was mum again. She just smiled, stuck out her tongue and blew me a good morning raspberry.