On not respecting Manny's dignity

Was it cruel of me to stop and take a few photos of Manny's mess before helping him out? Perhaps. But this was after Jonah had vomited three times before noon and after I'd changed his diarrhea diaper that had made me want to vomit. And then I hear Manny fussing, look down the hall, and realize, "That kid's got something on his face." So, naturally, I grabbed the camera and snapped away. Laugh or cry, folks, laugh or cry. Poor Manny. Though, really, he didn't seem too bothered by it.

Some good news! Manny is not, after all, allergic to cereal. We went to the allergist last Friday, and they did a full food panel on him. At this point, he's actually not allergic to any foods, though his immune system isn't fully developed at this point. With any luck, though, maybe I'll only have to be paranoid about one of my children around food. Sounds great! Manny definitely did have hives on his tummy a few weeks ago, but it must have just been a fluke, not related to the cereal. The allergist said that hives can appear sometimes after crying, or even if the baby has just had a "bad day." So we've resumed feeding Manny his rice cereal, which he is enjoying, though I think that he's ready to move on to something with a little more flavor. And since he just hit six months, we will certaintly accomodate him.

Like Jonah, Manny does have eczema, for which we're supposed to give him a 20 minute bath every day. I can only hope that the look on my face when the doctor said that indicated that I thought she was crazy. Twenty minutes! With a six-month old! Jonah has been known to take baths of up to 45 minutes, but he can sit up and dump water back and forth between bowls. I think that poor Manny's had enough of these twenty minute baths (actually, only a couple have made it that far), but we'll keep on it. His skin, though, does feel pretty nice.

At any rate, hooray for no allergies!

R&R

The only real way to relax is on baby's Boppy.

Manny, conversation monopolizer

Ever wanted to see 41 seconds of a squealing baby?


Manny likes to make noise. Some of his noises have gotten so loud that I must cover my ears of his mouth for protection. I should be glad that at least he's squealing for joy, right? Our little pteradactyl.

Our little pteradactyl has an appointment with the allergist next Friday. He's hoping that the doctor recommends a diet of cupcakes and marshmallows, though I've tried to warn him that such a recommendation is highly unlikely. He remains an optimist.

I watch PBS

Having finally made our way through all three seasons of “Arrested Development”, my husband and I have taken to watching “Frontline” on either laptop or television when we’re in the mood for a little tube time.

We watched “Bush’s War” after I had watched (on Netflix View Instantly) the documentary “No End in Sight”, both of which are about the war in Iraq. I have, perhaps to my shame, chosen to remain willfully ignorant of much of what has happened in Iraq; both documentaries were eye-opening for me. A major theme of both is the woeful lack of preparation that the U.S. had going into the war. While “No End” arguably slants more to the left than “Bush’s War”, both documentaries are balanced and far from shrill, and they feature interviews with central people involved in the invasion’s planning, execution and aftermath, which give both credibility. The interviewees are not anti-war activists who have been protesting the war right from the beginning, but people who were willing to put their own reputations and lives on the line for a cause in which they believed. Their criticisms carry significant weight and are balanced, insightful and, at times, damning. Some interviews even feature people who still seem to believe that things are going great (that’s you, L. Paul Bremer); I had to wonder if they were in denial or just lying. And, boy, if you think politics aren’t sexy, check out the behind-the-scenes power plays by Donald Rumsfeld and Condoleeza Rice (featured in “Bush’s War”)! Husband and I were literally on the edge of our seat, and I’m pretty sure the phrase “Oh no he (or she) didn’t!” passed our lips more than once. (On a side note: How creepy is that Don Rumsfeld? *Shudder.* My bones be chilled.)

Another duo that I would recommend is “The Secret History of the Credit Card” (PBS Frontline) and “Maxed Out” (Netflix). Do you remember watching those scary films about school bus safety and about drunk or reckless driving? “Maxed Out” is the credit card equivalent of those scare films; it should, perhaps, be mandatory viewing for anyone about to get a card. The PBS documentary is fairly balanced in its survey of the credit card’s history in the U.S., while “Maxed Out” nearly implies that credit card companies themselves are responsible for the thousands of dollars in credit debt that the average American household carries. Both documentaries, however, show how dirty, dirty, dirty the credit industry is; the fact that both have been made is also an implicit testament to the consumer mindset in the States. Be warned: it’s pretty sickening. Let me just say that one of the best financial lessons that my parents ever taught me was to use a credit card as if it were a debit card. If you don’t have the money NOW, don’t buy. Thanks, Mom and Dad.

I also highly recommend the documentary “The Business of Being Born” (on Netflix View Instantly), which gives a brief history of childbirth in the U.S. up to the present day, contrasts birthing in the U.S. to birthing in Europe, and makes a strong case for a natural (non-medicated, vaginal), mid-wife or doula-assisted birth (as much as this is possible in a given situation). My view formerly was, “Well, pain in childbearing is a part of the curse in Genesis, so, hey, doc, bring me that epidural!” (That was long, long ago, when I was young(er) and foolish(er).) Now, I tend to think, “Get away from me, doc, with your drugs and needles! Go care for some sick people!” Granted, I’ve also had two lightning-fast births, but this documentary reaffirmed my own commitment to natural birth for my sake and for the sake of my baby. This film gives men and women access to information about birthing that they may not get from their OB, which is one of its best features. If you cry at the sight of babes being born, though, prep the tissues. One of my pregnant friends watched this; from what she told me, I’m surprised her computed didn’t short out from the amount of tears she shed (yes, I shed a few too).

** A clarification: I consider all of the films above as documentaries except "Maxed Out", which I would describe as a Michael Moore-style documentary-type film. (Especially since it clearly hates President Bush.) We need a word for such films. 'Mockumentary' is too silly; 'faux-cumentary' perhaps too harsh? I'm taking suggestions.

Also recommended: “3:10 to Yuma” (2007) with Christian Bale, which beat Brad Pitt’s “The Assassination of Jesse James by the Coward Robert Ford” in my opinion (I want guns, not psychology in my westerns!).

Saturday addition: Last night we watched PBS Frontline "Spying on the Home Front." My head almost exploded. Someone get me a "Hillary '08" sign.

father's son

Doesn't every little boy need a picture like this?

mas linkos politicos

It's somewhat comforting to know that the libs are as nervous about McCain winning as I am about Obama.

Also, my favorite columnist cites some studies confirming what I've been contending all along: that America would rather vote for a black man than a white female. I (heart) Nicholas D. Kristof.

Many Manny happenings

Since Manny totally missed out on the birthday post (too busy with his cutey rest), I figure that I owe him one. So, here you go, Manny, this post is (almost) just for you.

Manny is doing much better with tummy time. He's pushing up on his arms, rolling from tummy to back, and hunching up with his tush in the air in hopes of crawling one day. I have a feeling that Mr. Moo is going to be even more on-the-go than Jonah is. Watch out!

Here he is: Mr. Stiff, a.k.a. SuperManny. It's funny to have a board baby.
Manny has recently discovered a passion for books. He was fussing the other day when I showed him this book, attempting to distract him. It worked completely! He quieted down and spent at least the next three minutes looking at "Baby Faces" and turning the pages. Lest you scoff at three minutes, know that three minutes is a loooooong time in baby-time. It was also long enough for Gabe to find the camera and capture Manny's First Story Time.
Another first: rice cereal. This first attempt was wildly unsuccessful, but that had more to do with me trying to feed Manny immediately after a nap in place of nursing him first than with him disliking the food...
...as you can see from this picture.
Unfortunately, we have since discovered that Manny is allergic to rice cereal. Here's a picture of his face when I told him, "No more rice cereal for you, Manny Moo." The heartbreak!
I'm actually quite discouraged that Manny is allergic to rice cereal. It is supposed to be the least allergenic food for babies, I guess, and so I can't help but think that if he is allergic to rice cereal, he is going to be allergic to everything. I will be calling his doctor tomorrow to see what our next step is: testing, exclusive nursing, different foods? Gabriel and I don't have an allergy between us, and so to end up with two allergic sons strikes us as quite odd. In addition, Manny is practically begging for food. He's been nursing more frequently as of late, as well as waking up during the night after he'd been sleeping thru the night for a few weeks. The poor kid is 5 1/2 months and around 16 pounds, so it's no wonder that he wants some solid chow! We're working on it, buddy.

**Update: Manny's doctor returned my call this morning: to an allergist with Manny! Since food allergies can be serious, nothing solid for Manny until we see the allergist. Of course, we have to wait for the referral to be approved by our HMO, and then for the appointment. Please pray that this happens smoothly and rapidly; Manny's chubby cheeks depend on it!**

Manny has also been busy charming an array of visitors, including Josh, a long-lost friend from my hometown who couldn't stop laughing at Manny's face-breaking smile, and Rachel, who was one of the first to meet Manny after he was born. Both gushed appropriately over how cute Manny is, which means that we invited them to come back again.

Jonah didn't want to sit by Rachel and Manny for the picture, preferring to look at his catalog. Manny has been busy watching Jonah's every move, though I try to cover his ears whenever Jonah says "No."And what has Jonah been up to these days? Practicing silly picnic-style games, evidently. I walked down the hall one day to find Jonah in the dining room trying to walk with a tennis ball between his legs. This is not something that he has seen me or Gabe doing. A child's thought process is inscrutable, is what this picture tells me.

Happy Birthday!

My dear husband is celebrating a birthday tomorrow, April 5th. In the few years that I've known him, Gabe has always felt a wee bit sad around his birthday, as he's convinced that he's getting old. I can't imagine that anyone who knows Gabriel would think of him as old; his boss, on at least a few occasions, has simply shaken his head in disbelief at Gabriel's youth. This year, in an effort to stave off the birthday blues, I decided that a party was in order. We've found that one of the benefits of living on the north side of Chicago is that our friends are all nearby and willing to come hang out, and so we had a houseful. The party was a combination saint's day party (the Synaxis of the Archangel Gabriel, March 26th, which is also Gabe's sister's birthday -- Happy Birthday, Angela!) and birthday party. The party is by now a couple weeks old, but: Happy Birthday, Gabriel!

Jonah and I started baking bright and early. Though Jonah has logged more time in the kitchen with me, he has gotten progressively less helpful. This is only because his enthusiasm for, say, stirring, far outweighs his skill at stirring, though he is convinced that he can do it all by himself (and throws a fit when I won't let him). See all that flour on the table? There's at least an equal amount on the floor. Oh, well. Nothing like a little company in the kitchen. At the party, Jonah convinced Miriam to draw a bus for him. That's a great bus, Miriam. How did you get that door looking so good? You know, though, don't you, that you're only setting Jonah up for disappointment, as my bus doors are atrocious? Maybe I can distract him with a drawing of a fuel truck (which, yes, Jonah does ask for by name).
Here's Brian and Brian's Clone, a.k.a. Miles. We're pretty sure that Miles and Brian share the exact same DNA. If it weren't for the height difference (okay, maybe the facial hair, too), we wouldn't be able to tell these two apart.
Chris demonstrates one of Gabe's many youth-retaining techniques. Work it, Chris.
Katie, with James and Isaac, is a good sport about staying on kid-duty all night. Another reason we love Katie.

Christine and Lynn made sure to keep themselves and their buns in the oven close to the cake. They know that chocolate makes a baby sweeter. How do you think that I got such a great couple of kids?

The man of the hour and his son. Do you see Jonah's sort of pouty face? This is what he pulled when I told him to look at the camera. Yes, sometimes he borders on having too much personality. Glad you asked.

I got in on the 3/4 family pic. Poor Manny. You were here, son. You can't help it that you're a baby and that you sleep at all the wrong times.
Jonah enjoyed the cake and berries immensely. I make it a point to say this because this is the same buttermilk layer cake with chocolate frosting that Jonah rejected at his 1st birthday party. 9 months older = much, much wiser.
Brian and Kendra gave Miriam a run for her money in the race to be Jonah's favorite friend(s). Two people giving him attention! Two people reading him a truck book! It was so great, I thought that Jonah's head might explode.
It's not a party without a discussion about the Orthodox faith! Here adults and children alike give a listen to some Orthodox chant. We know how to have fun, people. Seriously. Oh no. OH. NO. I hope it was worth it, Gabe. I hope. It was. Worth it. (Yes, it was, even though it took us about three days to clean this up.)
Happy Saint's Day, and Happy Birthday, Gabriel. You're a wonderful husband and a great father. Love love from the three of us.