1m2aSandbox

Our daughter’s found a new love – herself.
 
We’ve played games with the mirror since she was around three months old, and she’s always enjoyed seeing herself in the reflection.  Sneaking up on herself in the mirror is a guaranteed laugh for a good four minutes or so, and tapping the bottoms of her feet against the glass distracts her in the midst of all but a level five meltdown.
 
Recently, though, she’s hit an important milestone: she’s begun noticing other kids.  Church on Sunday is an awe-inspiring place for her, filled with smaller babies and bigger toddlers.  A couple weeks ago she sat and stared at Abby’s Josh, younger than Maddie by a good four months but roughly the same size as my kiddo.  Mesmerized, she reached out to stroke a sleeping Josh’s hand, just like she’d been practicing stroking Kitty.  When Josh stirred beneath her touch, she jumped, frightened, and looked at me as if to say, “Mommy!  What IS it?”  When confronted with a big kid like Abby’s Isaiah (a towering three years), she gazes awestruck as if afraid to dream of being that big.  All babies, though, are attracting her attention as she starts to take notice of the larger world around her.

There are a few blogs I check in on regularly, and Dooce is one of them.  A reader mentioned the blog to me in passing, and when a girlfriend of a girlfriend recommended it shortly thereafter I knew I had to look into it.  Dooce has been up and running for five years and the author’s got a two-year-old daughter and a razor-sharp sense of humor.
 
Every month, Heather (the blogger) writes a letter to her daughter, and even though her daughter’s much older than Maddie I find Heather’s words express things I’m feeling much better than I’d ever be able to.  This month’s letter is for her daughter’s second birthday, and hit on a subject I’ve been thinking about a lot - no, not the constipation, though that’s discussed as well!  I’ve been mulling over the deep desire I have to make sure my daughter knows, down in her bone marrow, that I’m there for her and always will be.  I want it to be something she never questions, like the Dallas Cowboys are for my husband.
 
At any rate, click here to read for yourself.

When I was a kid (OK, teenager) one of my little pleasures in life was locking my dad out of the car.  We’d just gotten one of the fancy new cars with the newfangled “power locks”, and I was heady with power.  See, Dad’s old-school manners-wise, and he’d always open the woman’s door first, then walk around to get in on the driver’s side.  I’d sit in my seat, tense with anticipation, as he circled the hood and approached his door.  My hand casually resting on the door’s arm rest, I’d be the picture of innocence.  He’d optimistically reach for the handle, even start to lift it, and CLICK!  My timing was impeccable. 
 
He grew to regard his door handle with something akin to loathing, as if it were guaranteed to deliver a physical shock when he touched it.  No matter how long he waited, I’d still zing him.  I even, with masterminded brilliance, allowed him to open the door unmolested a few times, lulling him into a false sense of security before zinging him again.  I was merciless.
 
As they say, the apple doesn’t fall far from the tree.

Proving we really are the city with everything, NYC now has its first map of daddy changing tables across the city.  Click here to check it out; Daddytypes blogger Greg has designed a cool Google Map overlay with info on the best places to check under the hood if you’ve got the babe for the day.
 
And he’s even willing to go you one better – he’s working on a version you can download to your Blackberry; no more furtive wipe swipes on the floor of the children’s section of Barnes and Noble.
 
What more can an urban dad need?
 
p.s. – if you’re having trouble reading the map (say, it loads you up in Ft. Wayne Indiana!) make sure you’re using Mozilla Firefox instead of Internet Explorer.

Babies seem to come in waves; you’ll see a community with none, and within a year or two there’ll be nine or ten infants babbling together happily.  I felt like I was at the end of the wave I was riding, but it seems to have no crest in sight!  Since Maddie arrived, three more babies have been born to friends, and I’ve got another three lined up: my high school girlfriend Jen was due the end of January (we’ve moved into the timeframe where you can’t email and say, “Had it yet?”  You just wait for the email or birth announcement.)  Angie’s in the exact same spot, awaiting her second, and my girlfriend Sandra is expecting her second the beginning of March.  Add to that Emily’s July due date, and the wave might just be endless.

When Madeleine was about three months old, I noticed she started to become more daring, more outgoing, more explorative – but only from the safety circle of a caregiver’s arms.  At her four-month checkup, I tentatively remarked to her pediatrician that I thought Maddie might be going through separation anxiety.  The pediatrician smiled skeptically.  “Jennifer, babies usually go through it at 8 or nine months of age.  In all my years practicing medicine, I’ve only seen one baby go through it this early.”  By the end of the exam, though, she ruefully acknowledged that she was wrong, and Maddie was clearly into separation anxiety.
 
What can I say?  My girl’s a quick learner.
 
I naively assumed that early in meant early out, and we’d be over this minor road bump without much trouble at all.
 
What can I say?  I’m a slow learner.

Being from Texas, Madeleine’s already got a couple country-western dances down.  Sure, she was technically born in NYC, but we’re sure her heart’s from the Lone Star State and that’s all that matters.
 
We know she’s a cowgirl, ‘cause she does the Tush Push like a pro.  Also, the Hiney Shuffle and the South End Swing.
 
Madeleine’s crazy with the desire to move forward on her own, but so far all efforts have been sent to the, er, rear.  She gathers herself onto her hands and knees and rocks forward and back vigorously, as if building up momentum to launch herself forward.  Then she pushes off with her arms and moves – backwards.  Yep, she’s still doing the backwards scooch, and still looks surprised when she consistently ends up farther away from her target than when she started.