east africa

I go through cycles of avidly following as much news as possible and becoming weary and worn down by all the violence and sadness in the world. I often feel disgusted at how short an attention span the collective "we" seem to have and how the media exploits our basest instincts to their advantage.

Casey Anthony. Lady Gaga. The Dougherty Gang. Amin Hassan.

Wait, who is Amin Hassan? Amin Hassan is a Somali mother living in the Dadaab Refugee Camp and she recently buried her 1 month old daughter, Addison, in a grave she dug herself. She is one 30,000 Somali parents who have buried one or more of their children this summer alone. And potentially 600,000 more children in East Africa may die before the year is out.

Let's stop for a moment and think about those numbers. 600,000 children dying in the next three months. We all live in different places but if you picture the 600,000 people living closest to your home all disappearing in three months, I'd say we'd all have a very desolate few miles around us. Or imagine that only the 600,000 children closest to your home are gone. No kids on playgrounds, at the pools, riding bikes, enjoying playdates, going to school. Just silence and cold emptiness left behind for their families to live with.

It absolutely tears me in two to read the stories coming out of camps there. Of children dying long, slow, extremely painful deaths from starvation. Parents having to watch them slowly wither away until they are listless, barely alive ... little more than breathing skeletons.

At 12 months old Asa is around 22 pounds and is rather slender for his age. There are 4 and 5 year olds in the refugee camps who weigh just 15 pounds. Think about that. Imagine if it were your baby and there was nothing you could to help him. You'd already walked a 100 miles in terrific heat, been robbed by bandits of any possessions you had, and arrived at the one place you knew could help only to find they are stretched way beyond their limit and reinforcements aren't going to arrive quickly enough to save your children. It's terrifying, isn't it ...

I don't mean for this to be a lecture. It's more of a reminder about why it is so important that we do not allow ourselves to avert our eyes from these headlines, and that we make sure the media doesn't cave in to the next Casey Anthony drama and dictate to us when the story is over. The story of famine in Africa is over when children are no longer starving to death, when their parents and siblings are well nourished, vaccinated, and able to return home to rebuild their lives in a safe and secure setting. We cannot allow latitude and longitude to dictate our compassion or empathy.

from Asa

dear momma,

please don't feel hurt by the fact that i currently seem to love trucks more than i love you, it's probably just a passing phase and you'll be my favorite again soon.  i know that trucks don't feed me, cuddle me, read me stories, wipe my bootie or sing me songs like you do. but did you know that trucks can roll?? and they go vroom-vroom, beep-beep, and wee-ohh wee-ohh!  also, sometimes trucks drive up my leg and over my belly when you are around, and other times they line up together from biggest to smallest ... it's really neat! i mean, there are just so many dimensions to a truck's personality, i never know what to expect other than to be amazed and excited.

so again, don't be sad, i still love you it's just that trucks can give me so much more than you can right now. but please when we get home will you sit and watch me play trucks because it's definitely not as fun to play without an audience and let's face it, you are the best audience i could ask for.

love,
 asa

ps - i also like climbing trees with you and bear, let's try that again soon.

that b*tch gave my kid a bloody nose

I've been dreading Asa's first bloody injury since I saw my neighbors son after he split his lip in the tub. I mean, he didn't look terrible or even bothered but you know, the idea of seeing my baby bleed unnerved me. And then I worried, what if it's something really serious, what if he falls down the cement stairs out front or something really awful ... I mean, the worry didn't keep me up nights but you know, I fretted a bit.

And then the day came about a week and a half ago while we were out in the big backyard in our neighborhood. Asa was there in the field with a few dogs running around, all dogs he knew and had played with before. All kind, sweet dogs. All different sized dogs. There was Midnight of course, and a dog named Bear, fairly sturdy but certainly a small-medium not really bear-sized ... There was little Petey one of those sweet little Ewok looking softies who Asa loves the most, and there was Penny (don't let the name fool you, there is nothing small about her) the Irish Wolfhound, a three-legged, prosthetic leg wearing pony-sized sweetheart. Here are photos of dogs like Petey and Penny, the one with Penny has a human in it to give you an idea of the size of this dog.

We'd been there for a while and everyone was fairly mellow, Jeff was standing so close to Asa they were touching and I was about 10 feet away. And then I saw it start to happen, Penny was getting wound up, going from a slow, lumbering three-legged walk, to a clumsy, quick three-legged gallop ... I guess technically she was on four legs as she had her prosthesis on at the time. Anyway, Jeff saw it coming too and actually pulled Asa towards him with one hand as he tried to push Penny's body away from them, but that big girl just doesn't realize how huge she is ... From my angle I saw very clearly her chest rise up and smack Asa in the face as she ran by. She wasn't charging him or anything, he just was in her path and with her new gait (she only recently lost her front limb to cancer and is getting used to the prosthetic) she didn't have as much clearance as she needed.

Needless to say, Asa hit the ground and was quickly scooped up by Jeff and I. The tears were flowing, the screaming was happening and sure enough: blood. All across his cheek in a swoop that went from his nose towards his ear. My first thought was that the leg or her collar must have nicked his cheek but we quickly realized this wasn't the case. With some quickly provided first aid materials from Penny's owner Doug we dabbed at the bloody cheek and realized it was a bloody nose instead. Thank god. No wounds to get infected. No scabs. No scars. A bloody nose is child's play! I can handle a bloody nose.

Well, actually let me clarify, I might not have handled it as well as I did if it hadn't been for Amy, Penny's owner (Doug's wife) who was so remorseful and upset that her dog had hit my baby that she was nearly in tears. Seeing her so upset helped give me the calm, level head I really need to keep when things like this happen to Asa. I mean, he looks to Jeff and I to determine whether something is funny, scary, painful ... Imagine if I had burst into tears like I sort of wanted too. Instead, I smiled, used a soothing voice and dabbed away the blood from his face and Jeff's ruined shirt.

Within about 3 minutes Asa was back in the grass chasing little Petey around, while Penny sat calmly leashed and under her owner's control. So the bottom line is, it was an accident, these things happen, no harm no foul and we've successfully navigated Asa's first injury.

that new baby smell

Asa just turned a year over the weekend and I can hardly believe it! Time behaves differently when measured by the yardstick of a baby's life. The first few days and weeks are blurred into one fantastically long day full of excitement, euphoria and adrenaline.  Then, at least for me, the next few months are a second long day of exhaustion, excitement and adjustment. Then around the three month mark things settle down and become a third, extremely long but happy day. So basically, Asa is three days old to me at this point.

Last night we were feeding him dinner when he grabbed for his spoon and Jeff obligingly handed it over to him for the first time ever. So there we were, at the dinner table with Asa in his high chair, apricots on the tray and a bowl of greek yogurt and a spoon in his possession. It was adorable, hilarious and very messy as the photos will prove when I upload them.  He was such a mess afterward that it was a 'straight to the tub' night.

We made it a bubble bath with Johnson & Johnson's bedtime blend that has all those relaxing scents to "ensure a good nights sleep". Whatever, it was a baby shower gift and if it eases him into bedtime with its lavender and ylang ylang than that's fantastic. After a very thorough scrubbing we dried him off and I lotioned him up with the J&J bedtime lotion (also a gift, thank you baby shower guest). He sat on my lap with his little naked tush on my legs while I rubbed the lotion into his back and shoulders giving him a little baby massage and I inhaled the smell of my clean baby's head and felt a surge of affection and attachment that reminded me of the hours after he was born.

There really is nothing like a new baby smell. In a word it is intoxicating. We didn't bathe Asa for days after he was born, we just let him be and enjoyed the scent of new baby, inhaling like it was a drug. I suppose it must be a type of drug, some hormonal thing that Mother Nature brewed up to ensure we cherish these little beings that otherwise would drive us crazy. Well, Johnson & Johnson aren't as good as Mother Nature but let me tell you, in the decades they've been around they've achieved something special. I suppose it must be the collected culturally learned norm for me to think a baby who smells like Johnson & Johnson smells "like a baby".  They may not feel the same way about the scent in say Uruguay or Nepal, who knows. But I can say, last night when I smelled Asa I had flashbacks to his first days and hours and then further back to when my sister was a newborn and then I started thinking I probably smelled like that to my mom 32 years ago and who knows, maybe she smelled like that to her mom too.

There's something magical about scents. They can transport us, relax us, excite us ... and last night J&J's bedtime blend worked as a time machine for me. It was pretty awesome.

Still snot funny

Sometimes life just isn't funny. Sometimes it tiring or frustrating or sad or just a bit dull. The last few days for us have been a combination of exhausting, frustrating, scary and tedious.

Asa is sick.
Still.
Again.
I don't know anymore.

I know I must have said this before, but there is nothing more pathetic and sympathy-inducing than a baby with a fever. The poor little guy is such a trooper but there's no disguising his misery this week. I do think he is very slowly making a comeback but not at the rate we'd all like, and with his first birthday just two days away, time is running short for him to be healthy enough to really enjoy his party.

We've been to the doctor, the ER, we've had a chest xray, snotted through several shirts and bibs, cuddled bunny, teddy, zebra, monkey, lamby ... And all we know is Asa has a cold. Anyway, here are two photos, one of him in snuggle mode and one with his dad at the ER, you've got to admit even when he's sick he's just precious.

caution- living here will make you pregnant

When Jeff and I moved into our neighborhood we completely fell in love with it. Nice quiet streets with young couples walking their dogs, some with children, some without, and some with bulging pregnant bellies. We thought we'd blend right in with them, what with having a dog of our own.

And within two weeks of moving in, we got pregnant. As my belly grew we started to feel like an even better fit in the neighborhood. The belly opened up a whole new world of friends to make. When you're pregnant other pregnant ladies want to chat and compare notes, and the moms want to relive simpler days, when their babies were safely tucked inside where the worst they could do was (relatively) easier to take than the havoc the babies cause once they're out.

Now, just a handful of days shy of Asa's first birthday, I'm finding that newborns, new moms, and expectant first time moms surround me more than ever before. And I'm loving it! The newborns take me back to the days when we were first meeting Asa in person, sleepless and clueless, we fumbled thru the first few weeks and months in a blissful daze. Talking to the new moms I'm reminded of the horrors of breastfeeding, the pain, the leaks, the pumping, the endless cycle of keeping the baby fed and trying desperately to work a meal of your own into the day but also of the sort of adrenaline-induced euphoria that holding your new baby gives you. And then there's the pregnant moms. The excitement and amazement and totally lovable innocence they still have about the whole thing. Hearing the baby's heartbeat, going for the ultrasound, those days are so far in the past for us now, but the excitement is still fresh in my mind when I take a moment to cast back to 2009 ...

The whole circle of life is really incredible. I used to just think of it from a death/birth perspective; as one life begins, another is ending somewhere. The balance of the universe. But now I see it as being a vastly busier circle, like one of those crazy traffic circles that has lots of roads feeding into it ... New lives are starting all the time, joining the hubbub of life with new parents and veteran parents, children and grandparents all zipping around, enjoying the shared thrill of the ride.

Special congrats to all the newly expectant moms, as you already know, it's a great thrill and it only gets better.

Keeping Up

The headline on Yahoo today has a story about how to spot whether your toddler is gifted or not and provided a list of things to look for to confirm that in fact your little one is better than most. The daily digest I receive from babycenter.com had a mom worried that her 11 month old wasn't "advanced enough" because "all" she can do is clap, wave, say momma and dadda and stand on her own. A few of the moms responded with links to websites where you can rundown a checklist to see how your baby fares compared to others. A few other moms posted comments assuring the mom that their kid was doing the same and not to worry, and a very few moms posted comments that indicated borderline disdain for evening trying to judge a baby like that. 

I have to say, I agree with the moms who were annoyed that anyone is even trying to judge whether their baby is "advanced enough". We aren't talking about a mom with a serious concern, like a one year old who cannot hold their head up or roll over, that would be cause for a visit to the pediatrician. It seems more like we are using our children as a way of keeping up with the Jones' and frankly, I find that really sad.

In these times of financial austerity though, where is a parent to turn when they want to beat their neighbors at a game of one-up-manship? When the credit cards are maxed and and hours at work are cut, the answer to showing off and making other people feel inferior can no longer be found in the brand new Toyota Minivan out front or the fancy swing set out back. With knock-off crocks a dime a dozen, you can hardly turn to fashion to brag either. And as babies are growing up and the diaper bags are becoming less crammed with stuff, the designer diaper bag is being left home more and more frequently. How then do we make other parents feel inferior?

With genius babies of course!! Why didn't I think of that? Well I suppose I must not have been much of genius baby myself, otherwise I'm sure the genius would have carried through to adulthood. I mean, obviously if a baby rolls over three weeks ahead of the average, he'll go on to Harvard Law and the Presidency, right? And if the little guy starts walking at 10 months he'll be lightyears ahead of his classmates at the magnet tech high school waiting for him 15 years down the road, right?

Or is it possible that maybe, just maybe, as long as a baby is developing, it's okay to let them do it at their own pace? Could it be that a baby who doesn't walk until 15 months is just as gifted as one who walked at 10 months? Can it be true that having a vocabulary of 3 words at 12 months doesn't make you any dumber than the baby who could say 7 words?

Life is hard enough folks. We know, we're the adults living everyday out in the world with the baggage we've been collecting all these long years. Let's try our best not to saddle our babies with baggage before they've even started pre-school. They'll roll over when they're ready, clap when they're ready, talk when they're ready, feed themselves when they're ready, and before we're ready we'll find they've grown up and we're longing for the days when they took those tentative first steps and stumbled into our arms with that look of pure joy that they felt mirrored back at them from our eyes.

Be proud, over-worried parents, your baby is "advanced enough". Below is a picture of my "advanced enough" baby kickin' it in his new reading chair.