banana slime spots

It started with a banana.

Orion was thrilled.
He growled and sucked on fresh banana through the ingenious mesh feeder device.
At first, he was just shiny and slimy.
Then little boy's face began to get red everywhere that the banana slime had touched.
Mama took the banana away!
Baby O objected.
He was so enchanted by this first encounter with something besides breastmilk.

Who has an allergic reaction to a banana? I've never known such a thing. Poor kid has never had any other solid foods, not even rice cereal. Makes me wary of trying more new things...things that little man is very interested in getting to know.


and just what are you so happy about?

In the fog of my too-busy, unfocused, haphazard existence, I find myself gazing in awe at my baby as mothers so often do, amazed by his unfazed joy.

And I say, so often, "why are you so happy, little boy?" or, "what are you smiling at?" because nothing so grand seems to be unfolding at the moment.

Well, why not? What's wrong with smiling for no apparent reason? I've said before...the most genuine smiles are probably the ones that noone sees. If nobody's watching, it's not a fragment of a forced bit of show for someone else's benefit.

So...what are you so happy about? What makes you smile, like this:

The unbelievably-happy-at-work baby.

I'm happy that Orion is nearly six months old and still going to work with me, so I don't miss out on all of those little daily babbles and smiles, and heck, even the diaper blowouts. Because, if anything, for whatever reason it sucks a whole lot more to clean up poopy clothes in the evening at home when you didn't see the intial damage done in the diaper.

Even though I am paid so little, at least it is all done within the "typical" workweek, so that I can take kids to events on the weekends without missing out on sleep like 2nd shift workers or people who have to work Saturdays and Sundays.

Even though it is sad that Grandma Norma is no longer with us, it means that we have Claire, Anthony and Sophia in town now. No more missing birthdays for lack of gas money. No more three months without visiting. Way more familial interaction for my little ones, and way more opportunities for the hiliarity of childhood to shine through.


do your thang

Little Taller Sister, who just turned 14 earlier this month, had a jazz band concert last night. First, we drove out to Dawes Middle School, where we thought she was to be playing...got there 5 minutes late...all of the doors on all sides of the school, locked...turns out we were supposed to be at Irving after all--6.7 miles and many stoplights away. As we walked to the audtorium, Mira wondered aloud, "where's Rock Band?" Poor little girl thought we were going to go somewhere to play Rock Band, like they have at her uncles' house! Of course, in true 3-year-old form, she suddenly had a life-or-death need to pee during one of the songs...at least it was before her aunt's group. Once Little Taller Sister's band was playing, Mira was somewhat enchanted and wanted to know, "when I'm a teenager, can I?"

I sure hope she does! It would be nice to have at least one musical offspring.


bon bebé

I still can't believe what a good baby Orion is. I'm sitting here at work, and Orion is in his exersaucer, just looking at me, smiling, and chewing on his tongue sideways. The exersaucer was given to him by a co-worker who found it at a garage sale. He has a swing in here, too, a donation brought up by another co-worker. I never imagined I'd keep him here at work with me for so long, but so far, so good. I just wish Mira's daycare/pre-school admitted babies under 18 months, because as good as he is it's doubtful we can make it all the way to 18 months without losing productivity. He's due to begin getting mobile sometime very soon here. He's been doing that thing where he goes from lying on his tummy to an upside-down V shape by extending his legs out and sticking his bottom in the air, and he likes to lurch towards things from a sitting position. People ask now if he's starting to crawl yet and I feel almost insulted--he's too little! He's too young for that! Don't prematurely age my baby--but then, wait. He's 5.5 months old now. He is growing up, too fast.


plantanitos fritos

Looks like a banana.
Smells like a cucumber.
Tastes like a potato!
Okay, so Ben already stole my tagline in a
twittered message, but golly, it's mine! lol. Fried plantains. I was not prepared for that one. We'll see what we do with them next time we use them. They may look like big bananas, but they certainly do not peel as easily!


bon week-end

Saturday was an eventful day. We did a lot of walking, starting the day with a stroll over to the Capitol for the Mayor's Run, which is a mile run for elementary school kids and is apparently one of the top ten in the nation in terms of size. Torrin was in the fifth heat, for boys second grade and younger. His hair was in a ponytail, but he's wearing terrible shoes because, well, we only have one pair of shoes for him. Shoes are expensive. Anyway, there I stood on the curb, waiting dutifully like a good Mommy, camera ready, scanning the little faces in search of my little boy running down the road. Well, I missed him. I heard, "Mom!" and there he was, nearly gone already. Not quite the shot I was going for:
. It got sunnier on our walk back--we were leisurely with our exit, departing well after the sixth and last heat finished but were still home by 10:30. Orion tried on his flashy sunglasses:

Sophia took time to stop and smell the roses...er...tulips:

After lunch we bundled everyone up again to head to the powwow on campus.

The weather was perfect.

Mira really wants to learn to dance.

And her little friend from school was there! She was overjoyed.

She really had a great time playing with him. She is excited to go to his house to play sometime.


et cetera, et cetera, blah-blah-blah.

Neither Torrin nor Mira have been doing well today. Mira's first meltdown came this morning. She didn't want Cheerios in her squares (Mini-wheats). She refused to eat them, so Mommy refused to put the sparkly sequin purple bow in her hair that she so badly wanted. Then, after visiting Torrin's classroom at school for a reading event, she vanished. We walked around the whole school (fairly big), didn't find her...we were in the office describing her when a woman brought her in. She'd gone out to the playground, alone. "But Mama, I didn't go in the street!" she protested...and wailed profusely as her pancake got thrown away. She also missed out on May Day basket's after the stories in Torrin's classroom because of her earlier unruliness.

Torrin was at school goofing off, refusing to follow directions. So I had to go pick him up from the Principal's office, all 7.92 years of sobbing mess Torrin. He filed a stack of folders for me. The task initially seemed insurmountable, but by the end he was doing all right, not asking for help alphabetizing anymore.

The Festiva Project plods along. I don't often see undocumented Festivas these days, and I only have about 35 total. But there's not many things that ruin my day in the way that missing a new Festiva does. Worse, when I miss more than one in one day. I've only captured one Festiva outside our city, although I missed one driving on the Interstate. Chalk that up to a phone call while driving (I know, naughty).