Hello, Pushkin

Another big week over here. Mae had her first cookie... and then her second, and then her third. We're actually almost half finished the box. Don't worry though. They aren't good cookies. Not like those chocolate-covered marshmallow ones with the jam inside or anything. They're more like responsible dissolve-in-your-mouth Styrofoam-type cookies made mostly of rice.

When she sees me coming with one, she opens her mouth wide and juts her chin forward to reach for it with her face. Then she roars like a lion and spends about ten minutes goobering it into sticky mush that hardens to cookie cement all over her face, her hands, her clothes, the floor and anything else nearby.

The other day I was getting ready to go out and just happened to glance in the mirror. I had a tiny hand print made of cookie cement on my boob - like I'd been felt up by Cookie Monster.

I found Mae's baby book in the drawer the other day and decided to flip through to fill in some blanks. I was doing fine, listing weights at monthly check-ins, dates for first teeth, memories about her first Christmas, and then I got to one that completely stumped me: "I first laughed out loud:......."

That's a big one, isn't it? But I honestly have no idea. What I can tell you is that, at some point, she started laughing, and now she laughs all the time. I can also tell you that it's the single greatest noise on the planet earth.

The other day, Mae was downstairs with my husband playing "upside down" (a thrilling game in which he flips her upside down, then shouts "UPSIDE DOWN," then she histerically laughs her head off, then he flips her right side up, then they do it again) and I just stopped what I was doing and stood there for the longest time, basking in the noise of her laughter. It reminds me of little bells. There's something that pure about it.

Or, at least, it had always seemed that way to me. But then yesterday I got a haircut; a bad, bad haircut. I'm not usually the kind of person who gets upset about hair (it grows back, after all) but this time I couldn't help it. It was much, much shorter than I'd asked for, with way too many layers. I kept saying to the hairdresser "I think that's short enough" and she'd say "Okay, I'm just tidying it up now," and then she'd chop off another three inches. The end result made me look a lot like Harry Potter.

When I got home, I cried over it while nursing Mae. When she heard me sniffling, she stopped and looked up at me with her big, curious eyes. "Oh Mae," I explained, sadly. "A terrible, terrible thing has happened to mummy's hair." Well, didn't the mean-spirited little brat burst out laughing like my suffering was the most hillarious joke of all time. "No. It's not funny," I explained, shaking my head. "It's a terrible thing." She laughed more.

But by the third time she laughed, I couldn't even be mad at her or properly feel sorry for myself anymore. I just like that sound too much. I ended up laughing at her laughter. And in the morning, after I washed all the hairdresser pouffiness out of the bad haircut, I was able to see that it was actually sort of cute, in a whimsical, pixie kind of way. Plus, it's true: it will grow out eventually.

In conclusion, I'm not going to go and say anything crazy, like that I'd get a bad haircut any day just to make my little baby laugh... but, at the very least, it was the silver lining in a bad, bad, bad hairday.

Dooooh. We're sick. Again. Actually, Mae is almost better, but I was the last family member to catch the dreaded cold, so I'll be the last to shake it. Every breath I take sounds all rattly and phleghmy and retched. I'm like a snot goblin of misery.

This is just one more reason that Mae can never go to a daycare centre where, I've heard, constantly having a cold is the norm. It's just no way to live. The last of the nasty little cough she's still got is just heartbreaking.

Add to that the fact that our household is barely functioning as it is with me off full time (it took me two days to notice we were out of milk and, sometimes, a load of laundry can take three days to go from dirty to clean and folded), and well, it's settled. I definitely have to find a way to work from home as well as a lovely, nearby, virtually germ-free, part-time home daycare for Mae.

This is all do-able, right? Oh whatever. I barely have the energy to worry about it today. And, actually, to completely contradict myself, I almost miss work, where - if I was feeling as wretched as this - I could call in sick and take care of myself all day. Being sick with a sick six-month-old sucks. Ha! Say that six times fast. Or don't. Whatever. I don't care.

My neighbourhood is full of nosy old ladies. I've had it. For the THIRD time today, I had one stop me on the street to berate me about what a bad mother I am. This afternoon's lady was the worst one yet.

It was a gorgeous day, relatively speaking (zero degrees), so I skipped the cuddle bag, put Mae in her snowsuit, threw on her white hat that always falls over her eyes and off we went.

Then halfway to the coffee shop, this lady started yelling at me. Full on, actual yelling. "NO BLANKET. BABY IS COLD!!" And so I yelled back at her, "Mind your own damned business, stupid lady who I hate."

Okay. No. I didn't. What I actually did was cross to the other side of the street and, from there, tried to murder her with laser beams that I shot out of my eyes. It didn't work.

I'd love to think that this problem will go away once the warmer weather hits, but I know better. The nosy old ladies will only switch from nagging me about blankets and snowsuits to lecturing me about sun hats. So I guess I just need to deal with it head on. Next time one of the old ladies rears her ugly, judgy head, I swear I will actually tell her to get lost. Or, at least, I will tell her that I don't appreciate the unsolicited advice... or, at the very least, I will shake my head silently in disapproval of her annoyingness and hope that she notices.

Hello Pushkin recently joined the Parent Bloggers Network. It's an online community of mostly mommy bloggers that matches bloggers with baby products to review. The moms get the products in the mail, the companies get reviews of their products posted on blogs, and voila: everybody is so happy.

This week, Mae and I worked on our first product review. It was a team effort: She played with the stuff. I observed.



"The stuff" was two sets of baby flash cards from a company called School Zone : Fuzzy Animal Friends Clever Baby Cards and " Infant Magnetic "Peek-a-Boo Bunny Guess Who?" Cards. My first impression of both products was that I wasn't all that impressed, however, Mae felt differently, and she's clearly the boss around here anyway.

The fuzzy animal cards are a lot like the pages of a board book with a different animal on each side, only they've got pully bits (for example, the tiger/lion card has a cord tail and crinkly fabric feet, and the swan/monkey card has a soft bit that makes the monkey's tail on one side, and the swan's neck on the other.) At first, I couldn't understand why they didn't just bind them together into a board book, rather than having 5 separate cards that looked perfect for getting scattered all over the house.

But then Mae explained to me (by demonstrating) that the reason School Zone didn't bind them into a book is that individual cards are much easier for little hands to manage. Over the week we've had them, cumulatively, she's spent hours flipping them over, and over, and over again; visiting with the animal on each side of each card; shaking them; babbling at them; crinkling their crinkly bits and feeling all the different textures; banging them on the floor and, of course, eating them.






Which brings me to my most major complaint. Her very favourite card is the "Tiny, shiny red ladybug" and its flip-side, "Fluffy yellow bird" and, as you can see from the photos above, the poor things just couldn't handle the power of her love. Within the first 20 minutes, the corner of this card had already been goobered into mush, and it just kept disintegrating from there. Although, I have to add that, despite all the goobering, the pully bits are still very firmly attached.

On one hand, I feel like these cards could be made of tougher stuff... but, then again, Mae did get her first tooth in the week we were testing the cards, and, also, I've never seen her love a toy with quite as much gusto as she loves the ladybug/bird. The other (less vigorously loved) cards held up better, with only the lion/tiger (the liger) showing any signs of wear and tear.


Because Mae loved them... adored them, even... refused to be separated from them... I'd have to say that the fuzzy animal cards are a great product. These guys clearly did their research when it comes to understanding what babies at my daughter's developmental stage like.



The Peek a Boo Bunny cards, on the other hand, weren't really Mae's thing. The age range printed on the packaging is 9+ months though, and Mae is only 6. I think she's just not quite ready to fully appreciate them yet, although, she did watch attentively every time I read her the cards (e.g., "Peek-a-boo! Who likes cheese?") and flipped them to reveal the answer under a flap (e.g., "Mouse likes cheese!)

As for me, I found the whole magnetic part kind of finicky. You're supposed to stick each card magnetically to the bunny base, put the bunny's magnetic hands over his magnetic eyes in "the peek-a-boo position", then flip the card, re-stick it, and uncover the bunny's eyes. Maybe I'm just lazy, but it seemed like a lot of unnecessary sticking and unsticking to me.

Also, even though they come with a carrying case for storage, it's still easy to lose a page or two. I'm all for the fuzzy animals being loose now that I've seen them in action, but I still think the peek-a-boo cards would have been better off bound into a board book. Also, three of the cards have the answer to the question printed right on the outside of the flap. Not sure if this was a printing mistake or what.

In summary...

The Fuzzy Animal Friends cards are a fantastic product for babies 6+ months. They're easy to handle and the crinkly, fuzzy, rattly or shiny bits provide tons of stimulation.

The Peek-a-Boo Bunny cards aren't really for us but, based on how much Mae loves the Fuzzy Animal Cards, I'm willing to bet she'll grow into loving the Peek-a-Boo cards as well, once she's a little closer to the recommended age.

Winter finally decided to show up in our city. It's cool, except that I wouldn't have minded a little bit of warning. The forecast for the day was mild flurries, so we set off for Momfriend Thursday with our tiny umbrella stroller. I even thought twice about whether or not we really needed the cuddle bag and only grabbed the plastic stroller cover on the way out the door as an afterthought.

But by the time we started for home at 3:30, the snow was already too thick to push the stroller through, and there was tons more falling, along with nasty winds whipping it all around us, making it seem like even more. One of the momfriends had her baby in his snuggly, and she helped us get to the subway, but it was super rough going. I ended up folding up the stroller and carrying it over my shoulder while she took our diaper bag, then holding Mae in my arms and trying not to wipe out or smack anyone on the sidewalk with the stroller.

It was honestly a pretty scary, horrible, vulnerable feeling being such a long way from home, with such a little baby, in such a bad storm. Then it got worse when we got off the subway and realized there was no way we were going to be able to get onto a bus. The station was already packed with people waiting, and no busses in sight.

Thankfully though, when you really need them, the world is full of nice people who like cute babies. A man helped me carry the stroller full of Mae from the subway to the end of our street - five whole blocks. I would never, ever have made it on my own. I swear. If it weren't for that nice man, Mae and I would still be walking.

So now we're just feeling happy to be home where it's safe and warm. And we're never, ever going out again. Not until spring.