May 31, 2004
Here’s May’s crop of baby photos! Lara is described at her
well baby check-ups’s as “thriving” and is in the 96% percentile of weight
gain. We call her “Genghis Baby” and “Brutus Beefcakes”—the latter especially
when she’s wearing that white cotton undershirt-looking thing that makes her
look like the beer-guzzling, stogie-smokin’ owner of a less-than-sanitary meat
packing plant. She’s beginning to respond to our baby talk with big smiles, and
she’s got a great grip! She’s not quite coordinated enough to suck her own
thumb yet, though she has found it a time or two. Her long lashes make Julie
envious, the evening baby massages she gets make Mark jealous, and all the sleep
she gets makes Kris jealous. She’s typically in an excellent mood in the
mornings and greets her first diaper change with loads of smiles. That’s
usually followed by breakfast and burping while Kris sips coffee in front of the
computer, and then she falls asleep on Kris’ lap while breathing out endearing
baby grunts with every exhale.
[Kris]
I’ve got a library of books that spans everything from
computer programming and gardening to feng shui, but up until a couple months
ago I hadn’t ever purchased a single book about babies. Now in the past month
I’ve increased my collection of books about babies from 4 (baby shower gift
books) to over a dozen (actually purchased!!!) I’ve been reading up on baby
brains, how culture affects baby-raising, attachment parenting, and the “missing
fourth trimester.” All the reading means Lara gets lots of holding and human
contact, swaddling at night to settle her down for sleeping, and is never, ever
left to “cry it out.” We have a couple different types of baby carriers and
some mosquito netting for taking her out into the garden in the stroller. It’s
been a bit challenging, since I’m used to being able to focus on tasks at home
or at work and actually get something accomplished! Now I’m fortunate to get
2-4 nitnoid tasks done in a day besides making dinner and taking care of Lara.
Plus, I don’t get to goof with friends at work or ride into battle against
morons or bureaucratic stupidity. I’m now trying to figure out how to tell my
bosses I won’t be back. I don’t see how we could humanly make enough
adjustments for me to work, for us to take care of the baby, and for the house
not to plunge further into chaos. I’ve had to give over kitchen cleaning to
Julie, who wasn’t the most pleased.
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Lara is a *very* good baby. If she cries, it’s only ever
1) sudden frantic/unhappy wail—99% probability it’s a burp coming 2) medium cry
means “I’m hungry” or “I want motion—either you to walk around carrying me or
put me in the swing”, or 3) general fussiness—“I’m getting tired, so swaddle me
and rock me and I’ll settle down” She won’t fuss over a dirty diaper, so you
just go off smell or sound for that. It took a few desperate weeks to crack the
code on how to consistently settle her down at night, until then there were
quite a few moderately miserable nights of sitting up with her at 2 and 3 in the
morning. Now, once we get her settled down she’ll basically sleep until 10 or
11 in the morning. She wakes up a couple of times to feed, but goes right back
to sleep.
Mark’s enjoying his new job and the people he works with,
and gets to bash heads regularly, which makes him happy. We’ve spent over $2000
on high quality suits and the associated duds, which somewhat eased the
adjustment away from those gloriously simple wash-and-wear uniforms. Mark no
longer curses every morning trying to get clothes that match, but Kris (who was
never talented on the steam iron) had to dig out the iron (which hadn’t been
used since before we were married) and curses weekly trying to make the dress
shirts look crisp. We both look forward to leaving the fancy duds behind and
living in cotton t-shirts, jeans, overalls, and redwing boots. All we'll need
is mink oil--the washing machine is optional.
Apart from the job, Mark’s been really busy on projects
around the homestead. He’s currently working on the chicken shed—we hope to
have the floor framed today. After that, there’s the dog fence, the flagstone
patio, the gravelling of the driveway, the hay shed, the truck restoration, the
basement insulation, etc. We also recently acquired a charcoal grill/smoker,
which we’d love to get the chance to assemble someday. But between work, baby,
and just living, both of us are seriously strapped for time. So projects never
get done as fast as we’d like.
Our poultry production suffered a setback. They were all
coming along beautifully on gamebird starter, apart from the half-sized "Quasimoto,"
who arrived deformed from hatching. Saturday, "Shadow," the half-wit half black
lab looking dog we have who routinely jumped the fence and has been on the chain
ever since he jumped the fence to wreak havoc on the garden in March, broke the
chain, jumped the fence again and proceeded to attack the half-grown chicks in
the garage. He killed about 30 before he was discovered. Didn’t try to eat any
of them, just was killing them. Mark was furious, Emily was in tears, and Kris
wants to execute the dog or send him to the pound as a chicken-killer (almost
the worst label you can put on a dog), but since he's semi family dog he'll
probably stick around through the 4-H training. Mark agrees that he has no
place on the farm in KY--he's just too over-excitable, stupid and prone to
destructive behavior. If he gets out again, even if he's nowhere near chicks,
Kris has sworn to take him out, unless Mark takes him out first. Kris has
planted the baby monitor out in the garage next to the chicks and now listens
all day to clucks and chirps. Everyone’s pretty upset about the incident.
The garden's doing great. We’ve had spinach, kale, and
turnip greens coming out of our ears for a month or two. The peas are now in
full-scale production, requiring daily harvesting. The corn is knee-high (as
are the tomatoes), and it isn't even June. Cucumbers and melons are along
coming nicely. We had a frost a few weeks ago, and out of all that we had
planted, we lost 0 tomatoes, 0 melons, and 1 cucumber. Needless to say, the
cool-weather stuff didn't even bat an eye.
