New Food #1: Sweet Potatoes

Awhile ago, I decided that I was going to try to make as much of Cameron's baby food as possible. As a working mom, I'm not sure it's realistic to think I can make all of his food, but I've heard it's not that hard, so I thought I'd give it a go to see for myself.

Cereal has been going well, so I thought we'd move on to something new. This great book I'm reading, The Baby Food Bible by Eileen Behan, suggests introducing sweet potatoes after cereal. It looked easy enough, so I started to gather all the pureeing supplies: I bought a handheld immersion blender (thanks for the recommendation, Pam!) and I found some ice cube trays. Yesterday, I baked two sweet potatoes, pureed them with a little breastmilk, and voila - we had about 15 ice cubes of sweet potatoes ready to freeze!

We went out to dinner last night, so we decided a restaurant wouldn't be a good place to try new food. So tonight I gave Cameron the sweet potatoes. I let him smell them first, and then he opened his mouth. Once he finished his first bite, he immediately opened his mouth wide for the next spoonful - he never did anything like this during cereal feedings! He ate the entire bowl, so I would say the sweet potatoes were successful.

Next food I plan to try: avocado. Since we're going to be in Southern California later this week, I thought we'd be in the right place to get some fresh, ripe avocados. Plus, then Mike and I can enjoy them too!

P.S. Did you know that although sweet potatoes are called yams, the true yam is a starchy tropical tuber that isn't grown commerically in the U.S.?

Auntie LeeLee's Visit

My best friend Leana came to visit this last weekend. Leana and I have known each other since sixth grade, so we had a good time reminiscing, marveling at how our lives have changed since we were 12, and trying to beat Mike at Nertz. Leana at least managed to be successful at beating him once, and I came up empty with no victories to my name for the weekend. We've been playing Nertz since high school, and the only thing that's changed now that we're in our 30s is Leana and I have somehow lost our dominance in the game to Mike, and that's both perplexing and infuriating to us at the same time...but I digress.

Leana was eager to meet Cameron, and he obliged her with his sweet, charming self. We kept her busy with all the exciting activities in a six-month-old's schedule. She witnessed one especially messy cereal feeding:

Leana got to meet Cameron's friend Jack, who hosted his first birthday party for the Wolfpack. As you can see, Jack REALLY enjoyed his birthday cupcake!

After spending a humid morning on the hike-and-bike trail, we cooled off by enjoying a delicious brunch at Moonshine (Austinites, I highly recommend you check this out, if you haven't already done so). Darrell Royal happened to be there, and since Cameron (and Mike) was sporting a UT onesie (well, Mike wasn't wearing a onesie - sorry for the visual image), I really wanted to get their picture taken together. For those of you who don't bleed orange, Darrell Royal is a legendary football icon and led UT to three national championships in the 1960s.

Leana, Cam, and I also went shopping at the Domain. Cam was a very good shopping buddy, but he found out how exhausting shopping can be! Like father, like son...

Leana's visit went by very quickly, and now Cameron misses Auntie LeeLee...especially her bright, sparkly rings!

A post of thanksgiving and goodbyes

I love me some reality TV like my son loves milk and throat clearing humor (next time you're around Cameron loudly clear your throat and you'll see what I'm talking about). Some people find reality TV silly or annoying. A stance like that makes me wonder if they have ever actually sat down and watched basketball wives? If they have, it baffles me how they can hold such an opinion. No my friends, reality TV is beauty. In the words of a reality judge / modern poet "it is like a purple wind coming through, it is a summer breeze, it is everything." I couldn't have said it better myself Mia. And it never ends. You can find genius in reality TV when you least expect it. For instance, I never thought I would be interested in watching My Antonio. Then I turn on the TV one night to find Antonio Sabato Jr. forcing a group of middle aged women (one of which is his ex wife) to read cheesy love poems to him while he flexes and tearfully worships himself... and I am hooked. Tool academy, survivor, the real world empire, all those dancing shows, flavor of love, i love new york, rock of love, blind date, fifth wheel, studs, cops, real housewives of America, America's next top model, project run way, bromance, temptation island, the two Cory's and on and on and on... they have brought me so much joy. I must pay tribute to them. Thank you reality TV. Thank you.

So it is with a heavy heart that I continue this blog. There is one show that has gone too far. This show continually lies to me, and does so in the name of love. I'm not going to take it any more. That's right, I'm talking to you Bachlorette. You will play me for a fool no longer Chris Harrison. First of all, I can count to one so I don't need captain obvious always stepping in to tell me that we're down to the last rose. Second of all, your condescending interviews and contrived sympathy is transparent and pathetic. Thirdly, I'm pretty sure you are the spawn of Satan. But aside from the pure evil that is Chris Harrison, the show itself has become totally absurd. Why must everyone on the show always try to convince us that they are actually, and usually unexpectedly, falling in love? If somebody would just once claim their true attention-whoring motives I would jump up and down with joy. Next, why is it that every place the lovebirds go need to be totally uninhabited by other human beings? This week the couples went on helicopters and boats that were magically void of any pilot or captain. Why? Why can't you show me somebody operating these transportation devices? Why do you cut away and make the helicopter pilot clear out of the picture before you let the couple deboard? Am I supposed to believe that Roberto piloted the helicopter from the back seat? This week we were supposed to believe that the island of Tahiti was totally uninhabited (except for Chris Harrison lurking around and pretending to have a soul). Would the existence of a pilot, captain, waiter, towns person, etc just totally ruin the ambiance? And I haven't even mentioned the hypocrisy. The writers made this poor guy with beady eyes come on the show and then wait till he's in the top three to tell the Bachlorette that he has a girl at home he still has feelings for. The American people are supposed to be outraged by the gall of this man and watch him get lectured and admonished for 30 minutes, all the while conveniently forgetting that we all just watched the lecturer sleep with two other guys earlier on the same episode. But that's okay because this is her "journey" and she "gave up everything" to be in the national spotlight advancing her Q rating. Again, you have cuckolded me for the last time Chris Harrison. If anybody ever hands me one of your creepy letters inviting me to come to a suite - the answer is NO. I am done with you. At least after the reunion special I am. How could I resist watching Craig M and the Weatherman reunited. The forecast calls for stormy skies.

You Make Bath Time So Much Fun

Cameron loves him some bath time. The other night, he particularly enjoyed his bath, as evidenced by the photos below. I just love baby chub!

As a proud mama, I immediately wanted to share these adorable pictures on our blog and Facebook, but then I remembered this crazy incident in Arizona where a couple had their children taken away from them after they took some photos to the Wal-Mart photo lab to be processed. What was so offensive in these pictures that caused them to be investigated for child pornography? Their three kids under the age of five were naked in the bath. That's it. Now I get it, maybe things weren't quite what they seemed, but it certainly raises an issue about being sensitive to what kinds of pictures are being taken of your kids and who sees them.

Ultimately, I did decide that it's okay to post these pictures on the Internet. I've changed all my privacy settings on Facebook so that only my friends can view my profile and photo albums (thank you, Kristina, for sharing that you have to change the security setting for your photo albums). We know most of the people who read our blog and whom we're friends with on Facebook, but I guess that doesn't necessarily mean that we don't have readers or friends who are creepy pervs who enjoy looking at naked babies in the bath. Eww.

By the way, please don't turn in Mike and me to the authorities for possessing child pornography...

Dinosaurs, Elmo Guitars, and Pumping Iron

I have three things to talk about.

Issue 1: Cameron has developed a dinosaur scream. He seriously sounds like a Tyrannosaurus Rex in heat. He'll just be sitting there and if something is not to his liking (i.e. he's slightly tired, something falls out of his reach, etc.) he breaks into a high pitched ear piercing roar straight out of Bedrock. But he's not really even upset, because as soon as he turns his attention to you he just starts smiling again. It makes me fear toddlerhood greatly.

Issue 2: We have a neighbor who is probably about 10 years old. When Cameron was still in the first couple weeks of life, the neighbor knocked on our door and handed me a little Elmo guitar that lights up and plays music. He told me that he really liked it when he was younger, so he wanted Cameron to have it. It was really sweet. And you know what, he was right: Cameron loves that toy. He pushes that "Jam with Elmo" button and just rocks along with a huge smile until the song is over and then slaps at the guitar until another song has started. The other day he was literally sitting in his bumpo repetitively blasting the Sesame Street jam, all the while working the whammy bar with his toes. Then he turned to me, made a horns hand signal, and threw up. I'm telling you he is bound to be a rock star.

Issue 3: I decided that today would be Cameron's first foray into childcare (not counting the nurturing gardens of Baby Resort de Rudd). I called Mindy this afternoon and told her I was thinking of dropping Cameron off at the Gold's Gym kids club for an hour while I worked out. You would have thought I suggested leaving Cameron unattended on the floor of a public restroom while I went for a jog. For some reason she thought that the meatheads (aka personal trainers) working at the gym wouldn't know how to care for a baby. She also is under the impression that a gym might have a fair amount of germs. Well, I convinced her that these sentiments were pure craziness and managed to get the yellow light (I wouldn't exactly say the a-okay, more like the precede with caution and realize that if something goes wrong I will definitely divorce you and quite possibly murder you in your sleep). I decided to risk it. As I was walking into the gym I became acutely aware of the fact that I am now totally a housewife. I mean, I was carrying a car seat, had a diaper bag on my back, and was walking quickly so as to not be late for my mid-day yoga class. Anyway, I signed Cameron in and hung out with him for a few minutes to make sure the situation was kosher. For the most part it seemed okay. It was pretty chaotic in there, but they seemed to have enough staff, were ready to hold him if he started crying, and had a place he could lay down to sleep. The only really unnerving thing was this 1-year-old (that looked exactly like a miniature Al Sharpton) who was crying and stomping laps around the room continuously. That seemed a somewhat ominous sign, but I decided to go for the yoga class anyway. I'm about 25 minutes into the class (somewhere toward the end of the glut vinyasa) when I see a childcare worker slink in the room holding a little white board with Mike Graves written on it. My heart sank. I follow her back to the Kid Zone and I see Cameron being held by a worker with the saddest look I've ever seen on his face (I might be projecting my guilt into his facial expression a little too). They tell me that right after I had left he started crying and he hadn't really stopped. Well that made me feel worse. One of the workers asked me if I had a pacifier in my diaper bag that I could give them and then I could sneak out before Cameron saw me. Yeah, like I'm going to be able to go back to clearing my mind and chilling in deep relaxation pose while my 5-month-old baby is crying for an hour because I abandoned him. I didn't think that was a good plan. I took a real-tear-crying Cameron away from the worker and paced with him around the child care room. But the really cool / emotional thing was once I took him that little dude stopped crying in about 15 seconds. He was asleep in 5 minutes and now I'm the one who is trying not to cry. Overall, I would give his first stint at child care a C-. Nobody was seriously hurt and hopefully no life threatening illnesses were contracted, but it was a tad traumatic. I've got some strategies that I think will make the next go round a little smoother. Strategy 1: wait until he's 12 years old. Just kidding. Moral of this story is that when you see a miniature Al Sharpton wailing and lapping the room - just leave.

That's all I've got today. I think on my next blog I'm going to have to discuss The Hills because Mindy and I just watched the final episode and there is so much to say.

Humans be barking up the wrong tree

Reilly Dog is back, with some truth to speak. I have had my good name dragged through the mud, while this little "angel" literally throws up in my face. I have been falsely accused of assassination attempts, all the while I'm the one being punched in the snout by tiny fists of fury. Until now, I have endured these injustices in silence. I will be muzzled no longer. For things have gone too far - Cameron is trying to kill ME. I know, I know you think that I'm being overly dramatic. You're asking yourself, "he's just a baby how could he hurt anyone?" Plus as readers of this blog you are no doubt under the influence of that filthy propaganda campaign of pictures portraying an innocent, cute, somewhat obese, miniature-human. Well that couldn't be farther from the truth. That boy is a born killer. Don't believe me? Well, I too have some photography to display. Allow me to present something I like to call Kamikaze Attack One:

Behold the look of murder in that ninjas' eyes. The blood lust on his face sets a tremor down my spine. And yes, the very sharp point of that American Flag is being aimed directly at my right pupil. Yet the parentals sat by and did nothing. They are so enamored with their little Bambino that they believed it was an "accident." Oh no, don't be fooled, this was a stealth attack in broad daylight. He came at me under the guise of American pride and faulty balance. But, his evil intent is clear. My life was spared that day, but I might not be so lucky in the future. I need your help people. Somebody please rescue me or at least write to Sarah McLachlan and tell her of my story; she'll know what to do. And if I happen to disappear before you can get to me, I hope that this post has at least cleared my name. I want to be remembered as the kind, lovable companion I have always been, not the violent, plotting creature that has been portrayed on this blog. I may have a biting wit, but I am not a biter. Cameron is the one that must be stopped. I must go now, before he awakes and catches me blogging.... Reilly Dog Out!

Five-Month Update

Cameron turned five-months-old on Tuesday. As I read the baby books and web sites, I'm happy to report that his development seems to be on track. I thought I'd give everyone a quick run down on what's going on in Cameron's world right now.

Eating
Cameron had his first foray into solid foods this week At our four-month appointment, our pediatrician gave us a few signs to look for when he's ready to start solids: 1) he wakes up more in the middle of the night, 2) he leans forward to watch us eat, and 3) he no longer has the tongue thrust reflex. He definitely met two of the three criteria (unfortunately, he's no longer sleeping through the night), so I thought we should go ahead and start him on solids. Here's what happened:

Mike paused the video after one minute, so for those of you who are really interested in seeing the rest of Cameron's first solid meal, you can click here to view Part Dos.

Sitting Up
Part of the daily regimen at Daddy Daycare is working on sitting up, and I think it's paying off! He can definitely do the tripod sit, and even when he starts to topple over, he can regain his balance. Way to work out those core muscles, Cam!

Teething
Cameron has had one bottom tooth coming in for a few weeks now. It doesn't seem to have bothered him too much, because he's not been terribly fussy. However, when we do need to put the baby Orajel on his gums, he HATES it. His face instantly turns red and he starts trying to spit it out. It's been hard trying to get a picture of his baby tooth bump, but when I get one, I'll post it. I should also take a picture of him after getting the Orajel - that might be more interesting!

Sleeping
As I mentioned before, Cameron has not been sleeping through the night for the past few weeks and this has unfortunately coincided with my new 7:00 AM start time at work. I'm hoping that solid foods may help with uinterrupted sleep, but I also read on Christie Beck's blog that some babies experience sleep regression between 23-26 weeks. Whatever it is, I can't wait for the days when Cam will sleep for longer than three hours at a time again!

Pictorial Update
As per usual, we took Cam's five-month-old pics with Mike, and here they are:

Happy 4th of July!

As someone who is 50% Korean, 12.5% Italian, 12.5% Polish, and 25% mutt (including English and Native American), Cameron is a true representation of the melting pot that is America these days. He's living the American dream, and he would like to wish everyone a happy 4th!

Bargain Hunter

As the result of some prodding from my cheap ass, Mindy has started browsing Craigslist for miscellaneous baby items. This weekend she found a listing for 10 eight-ounce bottles for $15. Then she made me infinitely proud by taking the art of negotiation to a whole new level. It went something like this:

Mindy email: "Would you take 10 dollars for the bottles?"

Craigslist mama: "I would consider taking $12"

Mindy: "$11.25 - final offer"

Craigslist mama: "I couldn't take less than $11.50. Just couldn't."

Mindy: "Okay, I'll go to $11.30 and throw in a slightly used 2008 People's 50 most beautiful people."

Craigslist mama: "Deal!"

Seriously though, she really did talk the woman down from fifteen dollars to twelve. I've never loved her more.

But, I also wanted to share a quick story about the origins of our new bottles. The woman who sold them to us ended up chatting for a few minutes and through the course of the conversation detailed the bottles' storied past. Apparently, she has two children: a three-year-old and an eight-month-old. The eight-month-old didn't take to bottle feeding, hence the sale. But this is where the story gets interesting, stay with me now. The three year old just recently stopped taking a bottle (well using my powers of deduction, I'm guessing he probably stopped somewhere around April). He had a really hard time giving up his bedtime bottle of milk. The mother tried to break him, but was unsuccessful. When she found herself lying to her pediatrician about the fact that her son was still taking a bottle, she decided something must be done. Does she stand up to her 35 pound child and tell him that things are going to change? Oh no - for there is a much more efficient way out. She tells her naive, all-trusting little son that the Easter bunny has stolen his bottles. I love this! Despite the fact that she is disparaging the good name of a well respected childhood myth, what a great way to totally avoid all confrontation. Don't think for a second that I'm not using this. Cameron is having a hard time giving up his pacifier? Sorry little man, Santa just yanked it out of your crib last night when he was dropping off your presents. I accidentally run over Cameron's cat one day? Nope, wasn't me, I think I saw the tooth fairy high-tailing out of here last night. Difficulty with toileting? Cameron, I had a talk with Elmo yesterday, and it's really hard to tell you this, but he thinks you're a self-soiling little bitch. There is no end to the motivation I can manufacture and the personal responsibility I can avoid with this idea. This woman is a genius. Who would have known that 12 dollars worth of stolen merchandise was going to be worth its weight in gold?

Problem Solver

I don't know much, but I know that spiky hair is preferable to non-spiky hair (at least that's what a girl told me my sophomore year of high school therefore forever and mercifully changing my hair fashion). Anyway, 15 seconds in salon de papa and viola...

New identity = bad boy. Rock and roll.

First Haircut

Today I robbed my son of his identity. I single-handedly stole his cuteness factor away from him. Today...was Cameron's first haircut. (Sorry to break the news, Jason - we know how much you love his hair.)

I'd been thinking that Cam's hair was getting pretty long and that maybe we should get it cut. As you will see in a picture below, the hair above his ears could almost touch his shoulder. And then Mike's stodgy co-worker said that we should get him a "boy's haircut" - see Mike's previous blog entry. That remark swayed me and I decided we should bite the bullet and just do it.

So this afternoon, we took Cameron to a cute kids salon by our house, Pigtails and Crewcuts. He can't sit up by himself yet, so he sat in Mike's lap while I documented this monumental experience on camera.

All in all, he was very good and let the girl cut his hair. She kept commenting on how much hair he had, and you should have seen how much hair was on the floor when the cut was over! Here are before and after photos:

And now...I'm completely regretting the haircut. He looks SO different! His hair was his defining feature and now we chopped it all off. This new short haircut just doesn't seem to fit his personality - he needs longer hair that's always disheveled. I almost don't even recognize him - with this real haircut, he looks more like a little boy than the sweet baby I know. I already miss his long crazy hair and how we never knew what it would look like from day to day. I miss the emo look:

I miss the crazy bedhead look:

And I don't even know what to call this look:

But what does Cam think of his new haircut? See for yourself!