Garden of Words

The Baby Factory: Assorted Interactions

We try to take Thea to my mom's house for a weekend visit, since connecting with her during the week is such a random event. It's funny to watch my mom -- who tells us constantly that she's just not "a baby person" -- hang out and fall for her sixth grandchild.

Last Sunday, we visited with friends in Jackson Ward who were having a cookout. The three babies present sat in a small wading pool luring hundreds of hungry mosquitoes away from the rest of us.

Another regular destination is the back porch of Big Tom and Ni Ni, as our friends Tom and Judy encourage their grandchildren (and their adopted granddaughter, Thea) to call them. Judy was in New Jersey last week with the grandkids, so we took Thea to visit Tom.

We decided wandering around in the heat of the late summer sun at Maymont would be a good idea today. So, that's what we did.

The Baby Factory: Facial Features

I completely love how Thea's face changes expression and intensity at the slightest environmental change. You can practically watch her occasional meltdown's creep across her face, or in the case of Thea swinging at a high velocity you can watch her move from settling in (first photo) to a state of blissful contentment (second photo).

We hung out at the playground behind the Carillon (Thanks for the tip, Patience!) this evening and she loved the gigantic bouncing seesaw and the bucket swings. And the sand -- what she didn't try to eat she sprinkled onto every flat surfaced piece of playground equipment she could find.

One Word: Habitat

One Word. You have 60 seconds. Start writing. Today's word: habitat.

Beneath the thatch, the layers of tousled grass and hay and the smallest of twigs there lies silence enveloped by more silence and wrapped around the tiniest of sounds, the quiet rustling of three birds sleeping, the winds passing gently above them covering their presence.

The Baby Factory: Date Night!

Unlike many of our friends with toddlers, we've done a pretty poor job of creating "we" space -- going on dates and hanging out as a couple. Part of it is by choice, and part by circumstance, and part by sheer negligence on our part.

On Friday, Nikole's mom and stepfather came over for the evening while we went out. (Look how happy and alert they are before the baby sitting! And check out the groovy doll -- it belonged to my friend India when she was a toddler!)

After stopping by to see Ed and Kelly Trask at the opening of a group show at the Red Door Gallery on Main Street, we filled up on wine and small plates of food at Si. They forgot several items on our order, so we spent almost two hours at dinner -- which was great because it took us an hour-and-a-half to stop talking about work and the baby!

Our next scheduled date is to see U2 in Charlottesville on October 1.

The Baby Factory: Some Genes!

She got the cute genes from her mom, and the allergy genes from her dad. (That's her with her cute mom being serenaded by the bluesman at the South of the James Market last weekend.)

After 16 months of ebbing and flowing, of experimenting and observing, we finally took Thea to the allergist this morning. When I say we, what I mean is that I went to a meeting while Nikole went and comforted Thea as three nurses held her down and pricked her back with 50 needles filled with an assortment of foods, inhalants and titrations.

I got to the allergist's office just in time to hear the report.

It wasn't what we expected. At all.

Apparently, everything we thought she was allergic to she isn't. And vice-versa.

The girl who eats turkey or chicken every day, along with three pounds of oat cereal and blueberries is highly allergic to turkey, chicken, oats and blueberries. And pepper and beef and dairy.

And the apples, bananas, soy and eggs that we've kept out of sight for months? Not a problem.

The doctor described the reactions as a glass of water -- the glass was probably almost constantly full because of the food she was eating and highly allergic to, while that one bite of banana or apple triggered something that caused her cup to runneth over. Or, in her case, caused her butt to blister.

We spent the day mentally resetting our minds around her new diet. The doctor thinks the meat and dairy will fade over time; interestingly enough, he said that eggs and meat were among the top allergic items for most small children. Who knew?

At any rate, three days after Nikole finished reading Michael Pollan's "In Defense of Food," we've got ourselves a vegetarian locavore shacking up with us.

The Baby Factory: Speak Softly

She said it was for Rilo. We weren't sure if she meant for Rilo to gnaw on it, or if she planned to conk the pup over the head and steal all her chew toys.

The Baby Factory: To Market, To Market

Nikole spent several days last week holed up in her study, cutting and sewing and doing crafty things with fabric. The outcome was a sassy little tote that Thea now slings around her head on a frequent basis, as she repeatedly says "Markt, markt, markt," her one syllable word for market.

When we took her and her tote to the farmers' market on Saturday, she refused to put any produce in it. Instead, she filled it with pebbles, sticks and leaves.

One Word: Coffin

One Word. You have 60 seconds. Start writing. Today's word: coffin.

Trapped within thoughts, emotions, feelings, the energy of being alive consumed and wrapped within wood. We can barely escape our own memories, our own sense of where we have been, are going. Our lives are like coffins, and we walk through them gaily, with a carefree skip, because we know no other way.

The Baby Factory: Queen of the Playground

Thea, triumphant.

I suppose I need to start calling Thea posts "The Toddler Factory," but since she still is unable to refer to herself as anything other than "baby" I'm still safe.

She's always loved the playground, especially swinging with Nikole, but mobility has changed everything. She now covets the playground. Yesterday, as we drove home from the farmers market -- past the playground -- she almost swallowed the entire car screaming so loud because she thought we were NOT STOPPING AT THE PLAYGROUND! But we were stopping. And she was pleased. Until I tried to take her stick away.

Doesn't this posed shot make me look brave?

The day before, she discovered the joy in life known as the tunnel slide. There's no turning that girl back once she's fallen in love.

Whoa! Mom! You let go!

This Dog Brought to You by the Letter Z

It's Rilo! She's tolerating my shenanigans!