Drum roll... James' first food!

It's two weeks until baby James six month birthday, and today we gave him his first taste of solid food.  And none too early - the babe is no longer sleeping sweetly through the night, seemed a bit more irritable than normal, and had been trying to reach for all my food.

I wanted to start with one of the lovely (relatively) looking veggie purees, but hubby insisted that we follow the common advice and start him on baby rice.  There was one complication.  The rice should be either mixed with formula, which he has yet to taste, or breast milk.  I'm still enjoying breast feeding, but am utterly sick of ineffectual pumping, and couldn't manage to get any out after a feeding.  So, we used water. 

The resulting paste looked disgusting, but baby James adored it, and continually reached for more.  He has entered the world of foodies!  And if he loves this paste like substance, think how he'll react to pad thai?

War of Consumerism

I'm now in the house where I grew up, staying with my parents for the next month.  I figured that since I'm not returning to work until December, I might as well get a little family time in.  My brother, who normally lives in Los Angeles, has decided to come back home for this great adventure.  (or non-adventure, which might be a good way to describe staying with the family.)  My husband decided one week was an appropriate length for his stay, and so next week he will leave me to family fun.

Three days in, and there has been no conflict of note (at least none involving baby James.)  Until now, that is.  We have just had a round of I-Want-That-For-My-Son-Even-Though-It-Is-Completely-Extravagent. 

It was shocking to my mom, but I wanted to spend $80 on a little jumping toy, the Fisher Price Rainforest Jumperoo, for James.  It's in the spaceship family, and has springs allowing the baby to jump, with toys that allow the baby to play and make annoying noises. It's my mother's worst nightmare: it's not practical, it's expensive, it's not necessary, it takes up tons of room, I can't travel back home with it, and James will only be able to use it on this particular visit - by the time we come back, he may well have outgrown it.  In other words, it's like pretty much every toy on the market. I wanted it because the baby in the picture looked like it was trembling with fun.  I'm a sucker for good photography. 

And she didn't want me to get it.  I wanted it.  We debated.  She tried to fashion a similar toy out of a highchair, a piece of foil, and a paper plate.  (too much MacGyver viewing) I pointed out the rave reviews on Amazon.  I explained that the price was only half that of a dinner out.  I described the expensive classes I had eschewed so that I could spend money on other things.

In the end, I waited for her to leave the house, and cheekily ordered it on Amazon to be delivered next week.  If James doesn't like it, my kind parental hosts may not be so supportive of my whims.  If he so much as giggles the first time he uses it, I'll be in the clear. 

Buying junk for our babies is hard enough, but when you do it in a semi-public forum, it becomes downright painful!

Organizational disaster

I learned the hard way that I need to step up my organizational game. 

We travel a lot.  And we're unfortunately not happy with little towns, or family visits.  We love travel to world cities.  And travel of this sort generally involves long distances, crossing massive bodies of water, and skipping across time zones. 

Of course, all of this requires air travel.  In addition to the well-publicized problems of traveling with kids, I've learned of another challenge:  travelling while keeping all of your valuable belongings together.  This is hard enough when you have only yourself to take care of - it's all to easy to leave a camera or cell phone behind when you're distracted.

Having a baby takes it all to a new level.  And sadly my loss today was not monetary (which are the easiest loss to recover from) - it was emotional.  In the flurry of leaving the airplane toting the baby and all our belongings, I lost my journal. I had started it two years ago, had written in it at least three times a week, and hadn't backed it up in any way shape or form. I've filed a lost report for it, but I'm partially convinced these online forms are there for the mental health of loss victims, and don't actually see the light of day.

I have to tell myself to be more organised next time, and to start trying to replace and remember the information it contained.   I keep telling myself that "at least I didn't lose the baby."  But let's face it: losing something of immense personal importance is a bad experience, no matter how you view it.

I simply have to adopt a new strategy: never carry anything you will care if you lose.  Period.  Back it all up, duplicate it, sell it, lock it up.  But never carry it on a plane, and never put it in the seat pocket in front of you.  When the baby starts screaming as you land, you'll forget everything else.

A missed milestone

Has all my work for the past five months has gone for nothing? 

I have spent nearly every one of my baby's 3600 hours of life with him.  I can count on one hand the exceptions, and all have been for periods of 4 hours or less. 

And somehow, with such a stellar track record, I've gone and missed James' first official milestone.  And, I must admit, I am a bit resentful.

The tragic tale began innocently enough.  Our little family of three was visiting New York City, where we each have several friends.  We were in the city for a ridiculously short period of 30 hours (essentially an extended layover, courtesy of our flight booked with miles).  As we needed to make the most of the time, we decided to split up so that we could each see respective friends.  Uncharacteristically, husband Brendan offered to take the baby for lunch - but only so that he could show him off to his Child Friendly buddy.  I agreed - my Child Blind friend (many of our single friends don't dislike children - children simply do not enter their conciousness)  didn't need to be saddled with expectations of simulated affection for the infant. 

It must have been the spirit of pride that  led Brendan to decide that today was the day for James to try a high chair for the first time.  James loved it, and was apparently the star of the entire restaurant.  (ok, Brendan does tend to exaggerate, just a tad...)  I heard the story with mixed feelings... happy that father Brendan was proud, proud of the little man myself, fear of this new sign of maturity, and disappointment that I missed the milestone myself. 

I also decided that I must exact revenge.  Today, while Brendan was playing golf, I repeated "ma ma" 500 times to little James as we played.  I will be victorious!

Taking my eye off the boy

I am suddenly panicking.  I promise you, in the past three days, our little baby has changed into a bigger baby.  We have been on holiday in Canada for the past two weeks, touring family, landmarks and various events.  In all the excitement, I've stopped paying attention.  I realised today that my little one can grasp my neck while I'm holding him.  He's started to do all the annoying things that I used to loathe about toddlers - grabbing hair, throwing toys on the floor, and crying when you set him down. 

I feel the fear.  I'm getting a glimpse of the future.  I've lost my little fashion item, who was content to eat, sleep and stare, and have replaced him with a child who seems to already have a mind of his own.  Today, in the afternoon, I realised:  maybe it's true what nearly every experienced parent has already told me.  They Grow Up Too Fast.  I've ignored that cautionary message until now. 

But what can I do about it?  How do I stop the wretched flow of time?  And what will I do if I don't like the little boy who emerges at the end of this growth phase? 

Business class for baby

At four months old, James was ready for his first transatlantic flight.   We were flying from London to Toronto, and Brendan had spent approximately 100 hours researching possible flights, frequent flier miles combinations, and upgrades.  He managed to secure us two business class seats on the transatlantic flight.  All set!

But not really.  About two weeks before the flight, it dawned on us that we may have to register our lovely son for the flight, too.  (although he sometimes feels like luggage, he does count as a human being, after all.)  So, we called, and, for a small additional fee, landed him a spot on our flight. 

There was a catch.  In an apparent effort to dissuade passengers from carrying babies in business class (the crying can prove distracting for business travelers), the little baby bassinets are not available in business class!  This meant that we would have to carry little James on our laps for the entire flight.  This somewhat mitigated the appeal of the upgrade - after all, isn't it hard to truly enjoy a glass of champagne with a baby tottering on your lap? 

On this particular day in July, the baby travel gods must have been smiling on us.  The seat next to me was empty, and the lovely stewardess offered the place for James.  He flew across the Atlantic in a fully reclined adult-sized bed.  The little tyke, at only four months old, has been privy to a top notch travel experience. Brendan and I were able to eat, drink, and watch films in peace.  He cried only slightly as we landed, and we received no dirty looks from passengers.  I still was caught midway through a film, though, and really didn't want to leave the plane...

Moral: upgrade your seats!