Tuesday, October 30, 2007

Saturday, October 27, 2007

The Year of the Baby

2007 was a big year for babies in my world. Not only was Sophie born on April 19, but so many of my friends and family also had little ones. There's Sophie's cousin Lulu in Georgia; Eli in neighboring Alabama; Leo recently uprooted from Brooklyn and planted in lovely Chapel Hill; Barnaby and Auggie struttin' their stuff in Queens; two Harpers!--one in Atlanta another in Manhattan (New York not Kansas, and yes, only in Kansas does that distinction need to be made). Sophie hasn't even met most of these kids yet, but it's nice to know she has instant friends all up and down the East Coast.

There's an extra special place in my heart for the latest addition to the list: Felix Day Hatton was born in Buffalo, New York on October 21, son of David and Erin, brother to Rex and Leo. I'm claiming him as my nephew though there are no blood ties so to speak. Erin and I have been best friends since eighth grade and attended pre-school together before that. If dear Felix Day possesses even half of his Mommy's strength, discipline, and beauty and his Daddy's kind nature and smarts, then he is a blessed baby indeed!

We love you Felix Day and can't wait to meet you!

Friday, October 19, 2007

To Eli and Barnaby

Thanks for the tips, fellas!

Six Months

Dearest Sophie, you are six months old today, and although I'd like to tell you that you wear a cheery smile on your sweet face all day long, the truth is, those are rare moments your Mommy captures and posts on her blog. Mostly, you sport an expression of intense puzzlement, as you try to figure out the world and the revolving figures who enter and disappear from sight without your consent or control. Strangers always comment on your big blue eyes and your furrowed brow--traits you inherited from your Father.

Having drunk nothing but breast milk for six months, you're just warming up to solid foods. You like to be held upright, no more cradling like a baby. You like it when I read books to you, and every now and then you try to turn the page along with me, although you don't yet have the motor skills to do so. You love listening to the English poetry I read you before bed; you're not so hot on Daddy's philosophy books (and who can blame you?) You're the only person on the planet who likes the sounds of your Mommy's off-key singing voice.

You like to be on the go--trips to the grocery, post-office, play dates--although you don't like getting there strapped and bound in the car seat. You loathe naps and loud noises. You love having your diaper changed, sitting outside, and remarkably going to bed at eight o'clock on the dot. But far and away, your favorite thing in the whole entire world is to go on long walks facing outward in the Baby Bjourn, tilting your head sideways, and cooing into the Kansas wind.

We love you so, Sophie-girl.

Tuesday, October 16, 2007


Are you still fabulous if you get a mention in the New York Times, but they spell your name wrong?

Luckily, the folks at New York Magazine are much more astute, particularly the editor of Vulture, Dan Kois, who I hear is the best editor in town (New York town, that is, not Hays, Kansas town)--although it may just be a rumor.

Yay Women's Project! Thanks Dan!

Who says I k'ant?

Monday, October 15, 2007

Off-Broadway, Baby

My play crooked's getting a little Off-Broadway run this spring. The official opening is April 19, Sophie's first birthday. I'm thinking baby Birthday party in Central Park in the morning and gin-soaked adult-only party in the evening. Come one. Come all. Here's the link: http://www.womensproject.org/07-08_season.htm

Feed me, Seymour!

Sophie has recently taken an interest in grown-up food, and so I've taken to giving her a lick of apple here and there, a dab of syrup from my finger; on Sunday, I swear she tried to chomp down on a piece of cantaloupe. And so I figured at a week shy of six months, she was ready to take on solid food. The rice cereal was a disaster. First she tried to dunk her whole head into the bowl and then spit out every spoonful we put into her mouth. Next we gave her a little banana (because that's what Eli likes to eat), and it went over a little better, but she pretty much cried throughout the whole ordeal.

I'm not anxious to try again anytime soon.

Sit, or get off the can

Sit, who me?

Not really interested.

Frankly, I can drool just as well lying down.

Please, make it stop!

Much better....ah....

We are still not a napping house...

Today, instead of taking two naps, Sophie has cried for two forty-five minute sessions: once with her babysitter and once with me. Having browsed the Ferber book (I didn't actually read it but feel, having scanned the chapter on naps while holding a murmuring baby on my hip at the local crappy bookstore that's really not a bookstore but actually a movie rental store, I am definitely an expert), I think the problem is she sleeps too long at night: 12-13 hours. According to Dr. Ferber, 12-13 hours of sleep is all a baby needs total and therefore, sleeping too long at night may pose problems at nap time.

Allow me to ask you this, dear readers: would you wake a sleeping baby up at 6am on a cold Kansas morning so that she might sleep better during the day?

Thursday, October 11, 2007

Thursday, October 4, 2007

We are not a napping house

Before Sophie was born, I envisioned writing plays on my laptop while my foot gently rocked my baby to sleep in her cradle. I imagined writing while she dozed in her Moses basket beside me, and writing while her Daddy took her for long walks in the early morning hours. Needless to say, none of these things have ever happened. Mankind has not invented a contraption that my baby will nap in. Not in a bouncy seat, not in a car seat, not in a moses basket, not in a sling. None of things will my baby nap in, no siree.

So we've arranged for some childcare, so I can get some more writing done. It's a great arrangement, and I couldn't be more pleased. Sophie's caretaker is a former elementary school teacher named Stacie who will watch Sophie with her own two daughters, ages 1 and 3. We took a shot of Sophie on her first morning meant to be spent away from her Mommy.

Of course, one hour after dropping Sophie off, Stacie called me to come pick her up again, because her three year old was throwing up. Oh well, we'll try again on Monday.

Fortunately, Carl does not have as much trouble blocking out the sounds of a wailing baby as I do.