Things Freya says

Not sure what the "rule" is for how many words kids are supposed to know by 18 months, but we have been delighted with the things Freya's been saying of late:

• off/ab
• donkey
• Lucy
• fish/Fisch
• out (directed at dogs in kitchen, complete with a good imitation of our pointing gesture)
  
• jacket/Jacke
• up
• down
• cookie/Keks
• poopoo (a remarkably reliable announcement of what's going on in her diaper)
• sock/Socke
• shoes/Schuhe
• Mama
• Dada/Papa
• "Bo" for Beau
• "Goca" for Mocha
• Apfel (oddly she only uses the German word for apple)
• car/Auto
  

So far, English dominates her vocab, but she is already getting very good at using German with me. It's pretty entertaining to watch her stubbornness duke it out with her hunger when she wants a cookie from me and I ask her for the German word. About 75% of the time she goes in search of Steve :-)

What is it about ducks?

One of Freya's favorite animals is the duck, and she even makes a growling quacking sound. Oddly enough, my mother really likes ducks, too, and I was thrilled to find one of her favorite poems online, by Frank W. Harvey (1888-1957):

From troubles of the world I turn to ducks,
Beautiful comical things
Sleeping or curled
Their heads beneath white wings
By water cool,
Or finding curious things
To eat in various mucks
Beneath the pool,
Tails uppermost, or waddling
Sailor-like on the shores
Of ponds, or paddling
- Left! Right! - with fanlike feet
Which are for steady oars
When they (white galleys) float
Each bird a boat
Rippling at will the sweet
Wide waterway…
When night is fallen you creep
Upstairs, but drakes and dillies
Nest with pale water-stars.
Moonbeams and shadow bars,
And water-lilies:
Fearful too much to sleep
Since they've no locks
To click against the teeth
Of weasel and fox.
And warm beneath
Are eggs of cloudy green
Whence hungry rats and lean
Would stealthily suck
New life, but for the mien
The hold ferocious mien
Of the mother-duck.


II


Yes, ducks are valiant things
On nests of twigs and straws,
And ducks are soothy things
And lovely on the lake
When that the sunlight draws
Thereon their pictures dim
In colours cool.
And when beneath the pool
They dabble, and when they swim
And make their rippling rings,
0 ducks are beautiful things!
But ducks are comical things:-
As comical as you.
Quack!
They waddle round, they do.
They eat all sorts of things,
And then they quack.
By barn and stable and stack
They wander at their will,
But if you go too near
They look at you through black
Small topaz-tinted eyes
And wish you ill.
Triangular and clear
They leave their curious track
In mud at the water's edge,
And there amid the sedge
And slime they gobble and peer
Saying 'Quack! quack!'


III


When God had finished the stars and whirl of coloured suns
He turned His mind from big things to fashion little ones;
Beautiful tiny things (like daisies) He made, and then
He made the comical ones in case the minds of men
Should stiffen and become
Dull, humourless and glum,
And so forgetful of their Maker be
As to take even themselves - quite seriously.
Caterpillars and cats are lively and excellent puns:
All God's jokes are good - even the practical ones!
And as for the duck, 1 think God must have smiled a bit
Seeing those bright eyes blink on the day He fashioned it.
And he's probably laughing still at the sound that came out of its bill!

why walk when you can run...

... that seems to be Freya's motto. As soon as she figured out bipedal locomotion she was off and running. Literally, and preferably holding on to a leash, sippy cup, or any number of objects.



Meanwhile, I just try to keep up :-) After finishing the Portland marathon in a new personal worst, having added a whopping 2 minutes to my pace, I am now trying to maintain a fitness routine involving swimming, the gym, and the occasional run. Not that easy, as it turns out, and thankfully our gym is open 24 hours.

On the right are a few more pictures of end of summer fun. Now that the rains are upon us, we are investing in in-door toys that keep Freya moving about. May have to test ride a few rocking horses.

A wiggle of babies

That's the collective noun for a group of babies, or so we decided today at the monthly baby brunch.


(From left to right: Freya, Veda, Gabriel, Ryan, Avery, Rachel, and Ada)

Earlier today, Freya and I reconnected with the group of parents that Steve and I met at a pre-birth class at OHSU last year, and were tickled to discover a group of happy babies and like-minded parents. The babies obliged by lining up, albeit briefly, for a group shot. I was grateful to get some pediatrician referrals, and to discover that there is a functioning babysitting circle already in operation. Who would have guessed that our random group of parents would continue a lasting bond -- at the time, all we shared was the anticipation and trepidation of labor and one harried lunch hour trying to find a place to eat at the not yet fully open South Waterfront zone.

On the move

The last 2 months just flew by, what with my work life getting back to its crazed travel schedule. Luckily Freya is quite content hanging out with Steve and Oma, or so I tell myself in the tradition of "bad mommies" everywhere.

But I am not the only one on the move. Freya is speedcrawling across the lawn, up and down the driveway, up the stairs, down (with a little help from a friend) the stairs, and all over the house. She is experimenting with standing handsfree, and seems days away from walking unassisted. The beach is her favorite new place, not least because of all the sand, seaweed and driftwood she can put in her mouth.



Her big brother Beau is on the move, too, from one pre-graduation party -- sanctioned and otherwise -- to the next. His steps towards adulthood are no less dramatic than what Freya serves up, luckily he's mastered the art of walking in a straight line, and is moving on to figuring out college dorms, banking, and - most importantly in the short run - planning his fabulous trip to Europe.

And finally, all of us are on the move back to Portland! Our stint in Marin comes to an end next Monday. Not a moment too soon, as summer gets into full swing in the Pacific Northwest and we have been missing our garden.

Ode to Oma

After over 20 years, my mother and I have been living together again for the past 8 months. It's been working out much better than any of us expected, proving the old adage that daughters becoming mothers does wonders for the family dynamics. A few weeks ago we celebrated Ingrid's 70th birthday with a big dinner party, and we both had to think very hard about the last time she and I celebrated a birthday together on the actual day(s). We think it was sometime in the 1980s, before I went off to boarding school. Sometime in the 1990s we had a party on the mid-way point between our two birthdays, but basically it's been a while and now we get to enjoy each other's idiosyncrasies on a daily basis -- or at least until the CIS kicks her out, but that's a topic for another day. In the meantime, because I don't say it enough (and because I'll be very lucky to have Freya say it one day):

My Mother Rocks!

We have Liftoff!

Over the last two weeks we have been watching Freya put together the principles of locomotion. Hand out, another hand out, face plant. Hand out, one knee out, another knee out, belly flop. Then, the other day, she out them together in sequence, and boom, we have liftoff! She is off and crawling, routinely covering the 40 feet from living room to kitchen in increasingly more fluid motion. There was a hilarious pause when she transitioned from rug to hardwood floor - it reminded me of the difference between mastering downhill skis on the bunny slope and doing your first real run: technique matters! Several face plants later, she got the hang of the more slippery surface, and has been exploring the majority of the house ever since. Favorite stops include the book base with Beau's school binders, the garbage can (shiny and intriguing), and the fireplace - fun with ashes.



Suffice it to say, we are enthralled!

New tricks from Nebanon

Some days we call Freya the ambassador from the planet Nebanon, visiting us from a distant galaxy. That's a reasonable explanation for her curious behavior as she continues her exploration of our world:

Yesterday's boring toy today is the. most. fascinating. thing. in. the. world. She also delights in setting up what can only be described as experiments in adaptive management. As in, "let's see what my parents will do when I surprise them with rapid full-body flips from my back onto my tummy!" That's right, after it took us about 2,000 diaper changes to figure out how to change Freya's diaper to her satisfaction, she now insists on us doing it back to front. And by insist I mean scream at the top of her lungs if we dare to flip her back.

So our mutual anthropological exploration continues. Steve has talking to stalking her with his video camera like Richard Attenborough used to go after wildlife in Africa. More on that soon. In the meantime, here are a a couple of recent impressions:


Here is Steve giving in to Freya's telepathic command to put her on the Kitchen counter.


And here she is testing the new hands-free feeding device Ingrid constructed. It's a poor substitute for the 3 servants royalty is fed by on Nebanon, but it'll do in a pinch.

first sand

is so delightful... Here is a video of Freya's first hands-on experience with the products of erosion:

Off the chart, again

At her 5-month check-up last week, Freya clocked in at 15.5 pounds, and 28.5 inches. The former is average, the latter is off the charts. And so it goes. Poor thing likes to sleep sideways in her crib, so more often than not we've been coming in to find her legs dangling through the rail. So much for keeping her bedroom furniture decently sized! Thanks to IKEA, she is now the happy occupant of a larger, but still simple, crib...

Here are some slides of Freya over the holidays (clicking on it takes you to a bigger version):


Freya continues to embrace (literally!) every new food we offer, and her current list of pureed favorites includes:

• barley with pears
  
• potatoes with apples
• carrots with a pinch of salt and a dab of coconut oil
• oatmeal with banana
• cauliflower with butter
• sweet potatoes

Oh, and today we found that there is a first tooth breaking through. That explains the drooling the last few days...

Yoga and beyond

I discovered a neat trick: do what I have always done, just do it with Freya! So she and I hit the mat every morning and do our exercises, I a modified sun salutation, she a unique sequence of amazing feats of flexibility. For a while we were trying to imitate her latest moves, but pretty much gave up after Freya served up this one:



As soon as her head is more stable, we'll go running together, courtesy of a friend's loaner running stroller. Exercise time thus becomes quality time :-)

My daughter is the boss of me

As is appropriate for a girl named after the Norse Uber-goddess, Freya is running the show. Here I thought I had figured out a way to nurse her for six months, busy work life and travel schedule and all. Had she not been the perfect executive baby just the other week, behaving with proper decorum in the first class cabin en route to Washington, DC, and sleeping through dinner in a fancy restaurant in Vancouver, BC a couple of weeks before?

Turns out she has a different idea. The other day, when we offered her a little pureed carrot, she went right for it: grabbed the spoon, guided my hand to her mouth (albeit with moderate success, see above), and figured out the mechanics of swallowing on her third bite. Ever since then my offering has been relegated to the middle-of-the-night feedings when she is too drowsy to complain, and once in three feedings during the day when I'm sufficiently engorged to resemble the easier-to-suck bottle. That's right, I am competing with a bottle for Freya's attention!

Freya at 4 months

So all parents probably go nuts over their offspring, but Freya really made some amazing leaps in the last few weeks. Now that she is four months old, she's become way more interactive and engaged -- but a picture says more than 1,000 words...

Symbiosis

In utero, the baby is more of a parasite, as defined in biology:

An organism that grows, feeds, and is sheltered on or in a different organism while contributing nothing to the survival of its host.

Now out and about for 4 months, our relationship has become more symbiotic. Our lives are intertwined in a curious dance, linked by our separate but closely related needs.

Take nutrition, for example. I have to eat not least to make milk these days, but rue the day I eat red cabbage, dairy, or any of the other foods that set off Freya's GI tract! The payback is immediate and vehement, her body arching in pain, accompanied by jags of crying, bursts of flatulence and foul diapers.

Closely related to that phenomenon is the whole matter of sleep. She needs to sleep but is just getting the hang of wanting comfort and attention more than rest, setting of a merry spiral of crying (she), comforting (we), thumbsucking (she), rocking her (we), flailing about (she), hair pulling (all), and bottle/boob deployment (we). Finally she tires out and goes back to sleep, while Steve and I debrief about how to do it better next time -- assuming we can remember at 3 a.m...

Off the chart

It's official, Freya is her parents' daughter. At the pediatrician's today she weighed in at 11 pds 3 oz, her head is 40 cm around -- both put her in the 50th percentile. She is 25 inches long -- literally off the chart for her age. That's my girl :-)

The Pump Files - Vol. 2

As it turns out, it's not that big a deal traveling with a breast pump, gel pack, various bottles, and a small cooler. Once I got over having to (remember to!) schlep all that stuff with me on a trip to the office and set aside regular half-hour intervals during which to pump, it turned out to be remarkably easy to get through airport security.

The TSA has new rules that allow you to bring pump and supplies, including ice, with you when not accompanied by the baby. Apparently that wasn't always the case, so I printed out the relevant pages on their site, ready to whip them out when/if confronted by a clueless TSA agent. But the folks at SFO and PDX were well trained, and all I had to say was that I am carrying medical equipment and supplies, and put the little cooler through separately, and that was that. No fuss, no delays, and very straightforward. We'll see how it goes when Freya, mother and I travel to Canada next month with our moderate heap of baby paraphernalia.

Working motherhood

There is working motherhood, and then there is working motherhood. For the first eight weeks, I was working motherhood, enjoying the bliss of nurturing a tiny baby, getting used to a new routine, and receiving oodles of good vibes from friends and strangers.

For the last two weeks, I have been easing into working motherhood. As expected, it's already proving to be a juggling act, even with my mother around to look after Freya while I work. Meetings with baby in tow work with a few indulgent business associates. Going to a work-related event with Freya in a sling worked until she started fussing during the second after dinner speech. Some meeting organizers are happy to accommodate the entourage I travel with. Two organizations even pay for my mom's travel expenses to accompany me to board meetings. I am learning interesting things about hotels and cribs.

Today I was comforted by these words of wisdom from another executive mom:

"When you figure out how to make the perfect balance between motherhood and work, do let me know. In my 11 year effort, I find it is a constant journey towards balance where you never arrive, but I have learned to sit back and appreciate and enjoy the journey."

I will be repeating this mantra-like in my mind as I embark on my first plane journey with breast pump paraphernalia in a couple of days -- by all accounts not a happy experience...

Monster cribs

We finally bought Freya a crib. She had been sleeping with us at night and napping in one of her several cozy slings during the day. She is just learning to nap on her own, and while we have tried out various surfaces and beds, a crib seems like a good idea for security and convenience. The plan is to have her take her day-time naps and the early part of her night-time sleep in her own crib. More on that plan as it unfolds...

I am happy to say we found a nice used, wooden portable crib on wheels, which we outfitted with a simple non-fire-retardant-soaked foam mattress, a woolen "puddle pad" and organic cotton sheets. The whole thing cost us $200 or thereabouts.



That's in stark contrast to all the sport utility cribs out there. Every store we visited has these monstrous contraptions that are apparently designed to last the kid not just through grade school but all the way to grad school. Built in extravagant proportions, they come in colors like "savannah" or "chestnut" and require spring coil mattresses and yards of bedding, which, of course, coordinates with the muted shades of your upwardly mobile lifestyle.

Anyway, a lucky pass by the local consignment store found us the biodiesel version, and Freya has been sleeping like an angel.

The Pump Files - Vol. 1

Working motherhood and breast pumping are like ... April and taxes. Or something. Here is a picture of the pump paraphernalia that have taken over my life. Nuff said. Not the BBQ tongs, though -- those I just used to move all the little bits and pieces from the pot of boiling water to the drying pad. And those little disks on the bottom left that vaguely look like jellyfish? Ah! Those are very expensive, but reusable silicone pads to use in lieu of disposable bra inserts, in our attempt to keep as much as possible of Freya's gear out of landfills.

Life's a beach...

... well, sometimes. We escaped the 100+ degree heat to Stinson Beach a couple of times last week, where it was balmy and the water warm enough for Steve to do some body surfing sans wet suit. Freya slept through most of it, but managed to nurse without getting sand in her mouth.

Earlier in the week, however, things were not so placid. She turned into that baby, you know, the one that wails in public spaces. She squirmed and screamed through the doctor's visit, made a ruckus at the bank, and was inconsolable at the post office. I, in turn, became one of those parents, you know, the one that attracts roughly equal amounts sympathetic looks from other parents of colicky babies, hostile glares from business men in suits, smug grins from super-moms whose baby slept through the night from day 1, and encouraging nods from elderly ladies who know that this, too, shall pass. Meanwhile, I got to experience the bath of emotions ranging from embarrassment to mortification, from indignation to resignation, and arrived, by the third stop on Freya's trail of tears, at so-what-ness.

Oh, and at the pediatrician's we also learned that Freya now weighs 9 lbs 11 oz, and grew half an inch -- both of which land her in the 55th percentile. We are celebrating her being such an average baby while it lasts ;-)