Felix's Nursery (with Bonus Video)

With all the home improvement posts I've done, I've never really posted much about the nursery. I am so very proud of it, too. I only realized this while I was mentally shuffling furniture around for his Big Boy Bed, which arrives tomorrow.

I thought, Wow. I should take some pictures of the nursery before it's gone.
My baby's not so much a baby anymore.

When we were expecting, I thought about the nursery all the time. I could picture it behind my eyelids when I was falling asleep. I wanted something authentically ours, but also something both playful and put together that our little boy could put his stamp on. There are a lot of family pieces and hand-me-downs in this room--that means a lot to me. There are also more than a couple oooooh!-impulse-buy-for-the-nursery items from my beloved Target and IKEA.

So, to start off my wee tour, I'll show you some befores. I lurve me some befores.

Before: Our walk through, 3/2005

Before: All the baby swag jammed in the room before nesting kicked in. 9/2007

Before: painted, still with a pile of baby swag in the middle of the room. 9/2007

And now, the afters. Yay! Afters!

View from the door, with the bookcase my Dad made me when I was little, and the rocker--which came from Mark's late aunt's estate, and my Mom had recovered.

Perhaps my favorite little bit of the room--these three Pooh paintings were done by my maternal grandmother, whom I never got know. They hung in my room when I was little, too.

The crib, passed on to us by my former employers (I've put four babies down to sleep in this crib!), with the quilt made my all the women in my family, my Mom's old toy chest, and one of the three Roman shades she made for the room.

This is a section of the growth chart my dear friend Andrea, at Bouncing off the Walls Murals, painted for us.

The changing table/dresser came with the hand-me-down crib--new knobs from Target.

Boy wonder himself, showing off his Adirondack style rocker (and making a really weird face).

And now, the minute, thirty-one seconds you've all been waiting for, Felix's big interview. Hang on, kids, this is some serious docu-drama!

BYOO-ah-ful Train

We live in a hotbed of suburban activity. Within five miles in every direction there are stores, malls, restaurants, schools, playgrounds, reservoirs, train tracks, MEMA, a fire station, library, hospital... and on and on.

While I might pine for someplace a little more rural, Felix, at 2 1/2, thinks we live in Paradise itself. For instance, yesterday there was a medical emergency two doors down, bringing Engine 3 and an ambulance practically into our backyard. Putting aside my disdain for rubbernecking, I pointed this out to my son, who suffered paroxysms of delight (perhaps I'm the one who suffered--oh, the shrieking!).

We also live more or less adjacent to a rail line which serves CSX. While we're not actually abbutters, you can see the trains from our backyard if you know where to look. There's also a little public playground down the street that offers great views of both the Massachusetts Turnpike and the adjacent rail line. Less than ideal if you're a parent, but divine if you're a preschool aged train enthusiast with a considerable appreciation for all motor vehicles.

When the freight trains come through going westbound, they blow their whistles before crossing a major thoroughfare nearby. If we catch it just right, we can leave our house on foot and be at the playground by the time the train passes. We've done it successfully a few times; we've even managed to get close enough to wave to the driver a few times.

This morning we heard the whistle just after getting ourselves dressed and ready to head out for errands. Felix looked up at me and said, "Let's go a-playground an' see the train." I said okay, and we walked out the front door. It was spontaneous and lovely. As we walked, I felt, rather than heard, the train getting closer, so I swung him up onto my hip, and jogged the last couple of yards in my patent leather flats.

We got there just in time, and the driver waved and blew the whistle for us.

(this is not the actual train we saw, but it's nearly identical)

On the walk back to the house, Felix said to me, "That was a BYOO-ah-ful train, Mama."

You Have to Break It Down

I posted this on FB, but forgot to put it up here. All better now.



I think my favorite move is the elbow one. Or the eyes. Yes, definitely the eyes!

Beek: A Lovey Story

As I type, my son is stretched out on the sofa, watching the ever asinine "My Friends Tigger & Pooh," indulging in fishy-faced sucking on his blue blanket, whom he has named Beek. We call this "Beeking Out." It means he's weary and overwhelmed, and needs some quality time with his one true lovey.

I feel like loveys have been a recurring theme in my adult life. I mean, I had (still have) one myself, a bunny puppet I named Beth, but loveys have been a significant part of my adult life in more meaningful ways.

I'm a huge fan of loveys. To me, a small child, even an infant, showing a preference for a toy (or other objects; loveys don't discriminate) is a miraculous thing. That physical and emotional comfort, usually gleaned from beloved people, can be transformed, anthropomorphized into an everyday object is wonderful. Big Brother J has a bear called Nick (which he named), Miss E has both a blankie and a soft purple pajamaed baby doll, called Blankie and Baby, and O has his "guys," a revolving collection of miniature stuffed animals which almost always includes an 8" Wally the Green Monster, but his one true lovey is still his pacifier, which he calls "NuNu."

Those items and the kids' relationships with them tell me a lot about them. Big Brother J is an old and uncluttered soul, he likes order and structure, and he has a lot of type A, elder brother wisdom. A single bear, unfrilly, with an oddly adult name, who lives quietly up on the top bunk in the boys' room, makes perfect sense. Nick is always there, but doesn't draw unwanted scrutiny. Miss E is a middle child and a drama queen, constantly seeking approval and attention, and so needs multiple items, without too much individual identity, so as not to move the spotlight off of her. They play a distinctly supporting role in her personal drama. O, the baby, is very self sufficient, secure, whimsical and imaginative, and a bevy of friends suits him. His attachment to a baby item keeps him firmly rooted in his position in the sibling hierarchy, well cared for and given free reign to dream.

I once gave an elephant to my infant godson. By whatever accident of fate (I don't think G could tell you who gave him his Hort), that elephant became his lovey, and their lovey story is epic in nature. Hort got a companion; they became the Horts. Now that he's a big boy, the Horts are less of everyday players than they once were, but I still feel strangely blessed to have been part of the original Hort's genesis.

The there's the lovey closest to my heart. My son's. For his first year I despaired. He never formed that magical attachment with a random inanimate object. I laughed at myself for being so upset by it, but the truth? I was crushed. His lovey was me. He was a fantastic nurser once we got the hang of it, and preferred nursing to sleep. He didn't need a prop, thankyouverymuch. Rationally, I knew I should break the habit, but what's sweeter than a sleeping baby in your lap? His first birthday came and went. He was a standing, babbling, milk drinking, cheerio clutching human, and still, he declined any stuffed toy I tried. At fifteen months, I was pretty much done with nursing, and so I stepped up my search. I wanted him to have something to turn to if I wasn't available. I wanted him to have something his own. I noticed that he liked the feel of the terry robe I often wore when nursing, and would rub his hands on it as he nodded off, so I searched the boxes and drawers for something that replicated the texture.

(left: photo of Felix and Beek together at 6 days old - when will they ever meet again?) What I found was a secondhand blanket that felt exactly the same as said robe, and - bonus! - it had the satin edges coveted by so many little ones. Eureka! I'd used it when he was tiny, but we had so many baby blankets that it had ended up tucked away in a closet. It was like something out of a novel. (The first time they met, he barely noticed the blanket. A year later, he fell in love.) I started slipping the blanket between us when we snuggled. I left it in his crib when he slept, and I watched him fall in lovey.

A few months later, he developed the "Beek" moniker, though neither myself nor my husband can figure when. He initially called it "Dee," but then he changed it and never looked back.

It's been about a year now. A year of Beek. A year with a lovey. And I'm glad. My boy has his blanket. Perhaps someday, like Kevin Henkes' "Owen," he'll need it made into pocket squares, or I'll be fashioning it into a throw pillow for his dorm room bed. A Mom can dream.

Felix and the Snow: A video

My Friends Tigger & Pooh, the Super Sleuth Cake

Yesterday we celebrated Felix's birthday, and as he is an afficionado of the Playhouse Disney animated series, My Friends Tigger & Pooh (warning, if you love AA Milne and Ernest Shepard, do NOT click on the link), I did his cake based on the colors and "Super Sleuth" logo favored by the show. Add some birthday candles and a set of figurines I picked up on sale at the Disney Store, and we have a cake with toppers you can keep and play with!

The recipes are all from The Whimsical Bakehouse, by Kaye and Liv Hansen, one of my favorite books on cakes. I did 10" tilted "mini" birthday cake, with chocolate butter cake, cookies and cream filling and vanilla Italian buttercream. Yum!

Looks like a success to me!

The Next Gap Kid?

How can anyone resist this little face? Please go vote for him in the Gap Casting Call!

Making Cookies!

So, I did some updating. I'm hoping the fresh look on the blog will inspire some fresh posts, like the one below.

My baby is old enough to help with the baking (so long as precision and tidiness aren't my goals...)! Here he is, wielding a spatula like a pro:

Puddle Stomping!

Felix has fully embraced the rainy weather we've had for the last month, and whenever possible, likes to put on his boots and stomp some puddles.

In this video, we're on the Common, near the corner of Beacon and Charles Streets, and he's watching the cars pass by while taking advantage of some good sized puddles.

Who Would Have Guessed He's Ours?

Taken in a span of an hour, from Mark's cell phone.

Mama's little reader:

Daddy's little helper:

First Popsicle

He's had chunks of ice cream sandwiches, but never before his very own popsicle. So, after a great lunch this past Saturday, he was rewarded with a grape Edy's Whole Fruit bar. He turned out to be fairly coordinated with it, especially since it was a full-sized frozen treat...

Sure he needed his bib, but I, too need a bib when eating a melty grape popsicle.

M.I.C.K.E.Y.M.O.U.S.E.

Guess who loves his ears?

BBJ Returns From China, Felix Loses A Shoe

Big Brother J is back from an epic, two and a half week trip to China with his grandparents. It sounds like an amazing trip, and I can't wait to look at the pictures once the slideshow is ready!

Felix lost a green Croc on Cambridge Street.

The books I have been waiting for for a week are not coming. They are out of stock. (Why it took a week for the vendor to let me know this is a mystery.) I have been refunded. I will be going to the bookstore tonight, since I finished The Amber Spyglass this afternoon, and now have nothing to read.

Our nap schedule is shifting, and Felix is not loving it.

That's all I've got for today, but in the interest of getting back into the habit of frequent posting, I'm putting it out there anyway.

Carousel!

This is a pretty great way to spend a sunny Friday afternoon.

Felix with some other kids in the single teacup on the carousel that's currently occupying the Frog Pond on Boston Common.
He may be a thrill junkie.
Uh oh!

Sunday Morning, or Felix Loves Wynton Marsalis

Allow me to preface this video with a short explanation. Felix loves the brass instruments. He's a jazz and big band man. Apparently his first favorite song will go down as the theme music from CBS's Sunday Morning. What you are about to see happens every time he hears the music start on the TV. Every. Time. We even DVRed the intro one week, so we could pull it out when he's having a meltdown and needs redirection.

He WALKS!

Woolapalooza!

Yesterday, Felix & I went to Drumlin Farm, in Lincoln, for Woolapalooza. I'd never been before, so it was a treat. I didn't even know it was going on until I got an update in my feed reader from New England Fiber. I packed up the kiddo and departed. We were totally winging it. No plan, no provisions, no schedule. We just took advantage of the gorgeous weather and went. Such spontaneity!! Even the drive was lovely and low key, all along secondary roads north and east through Wayland and Lincoln.

It was especially nice to do something fun and out of the ordinary with just Felix. Usually, our major outings involve at least one of the Bosses' kids. Not that that's a bad thing, it's just a pleasant change. We went at a slow pace, didn't worry about seeing everything, and thoroughly enjoyed ourselves. Felix got to pet a horse, he saw cows, pigs, sheep, and chickens. He practiced his hand-holding and walking. We shared a bowl of lamb chili (made from lamb and veggies grown on the farm!) and a chocolate cookie. When Felix got tired, we left.

As an aside, I didn't buy a single skein of yarn, despite a "vintage" colorway of Fleece Artist sock yarn for a mere $19... I'm still a little wistful...

When we got home, Mark was home from work, and game to take the rest of the day off from the house, so we took Felix to the neighborhood playground for some swings and sliding, then after a family nap time, we went for early dinner at Legal Seafood.

Good day, all around!

Spring Break Goes Out Like A Mouse

Friday was my last day with all four kids home for spring break. As the older ones had comported themselves well for four days previous, I agree to take the whole gang to Chuck E. Cheese (because even privileged children love video games and bad pizza!) for lunch and entertainment. It was insane kinda nutty of me to attempt, but actually pretty fun in the end. J & E have finally gotten old enough to be fairly self sufficient and even helpful, and O and Felix are little enough to manage, especially with support from the older kids.

I learned that Felix will happily eat the cheese off anyone's pizza, that he likes riding the car rides, and that he's going to be one heck of a skeeball player. Miss E can eat an entire free bag of cotton candy in about 2 minutes flat, and while Big Brother J can burn through tokens like nobody I know, he's also a great assistant to the nanny. He was happy to stay with the little boys while I used the restroom (peeing alone! quel luxury!) or to wrangle his little brother in for food and potty breaks. He's a good kid.

I barely saw the other three, as they busied themselves with games and the acquisition of tickets. They each had about 75 tokens to play with. I wrangled them in for pizza and ice cream, and again to tally the tickets and pick out prizes. In the end, everyone got to bring home a prize and I was rewarded with happy, tired children for a few hours following.

0.6 Miles

Felix can walk, but he won't do it unless he's holding a hand or a stable object. What he lacks in confidence, however, he makes up for in stamina. Yesterday, on the way home from O's preschool, he walked the whole way home, doggedly clinging to the sides of the stroller. Over half a mile, excepting the cross streets, when I hauled him up and carried him, since his snail's pace is hardly fair to impatient Boston drivers.

At Least He Doesn't Like the Taste of Bland

Picky eaters make me crazy. If you know me, or you've read this for long enough, you know that. I can't stand to hear children say, "I don't like that," when I know for a fact they've never before been presented with whatever it is. More offensive even is hearing those four evil words when they've eaten and enjoyed whatever is in front of them before.

And contrary to current parenting trends I've observed (in my ever-so-scientific way), I don't believe my child should run my life, and I do believe that within reason, children should eat what they're offered. I don't run a restaurant. I am the adult.

Imagine my frustration with my own darling son, who, despite my best efforts to present him with variety of good foods, and limit his exposure to junk, basically exists on dried fruit and milk, and refuses 90% of the protein I put in front of him, be it animal or vegetable.

Hrmmmm.

Last week, in a moment of supreme weakness, I bought him one of those Gerber Graduates TV dinners meals. I thought, what the hell, it's designed for picky todders, right? So what if it smells like nothing and sodium. I dutifully microwaved it, got him set in his chair with his bib and spork, and watched him watch the microwave with anticipatory delight.

I put down the bowl. He sporked up some lunch and shoveled it in. He opened his mouth, and let it all fall out onto his bib. In the end, I fed him some leftover brown rice with peas and a couple handfuls of freeze dried strawberries, and felt much better about myself, even though most of the rice and peas ended up going to the dogs via the floor. He may not have a broad range yet, but at least he doesn't like the taste of bland.