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So, Guess What I’m Doing?

My first read-along!

Villette (Source)

I can’t believe I’ve never done one before.  It always seems that either I don’t find out about the read-along until it’s halfway over, or else it’s a book I’ve already read or don’t want to read, or I’m too swamped with other books and won’t be able to keep up.  But when I saw Amal’s tweet about the Villette read-along, hosted by Beth of Too Fond, the stars aligned.

A read-along that hasn’t actually started yet.  A book I want to read.  A library stack that I can safely ignore (for a little while).  I’m so there.

I count Jane Eyre as my favorite book, and I consider myself a Bronte fangirl – despite not having read any of Charlotte’s other works.  (I’ve read Jane Eyre more times than I can count, though, and Emily’s Wuthering Heights , which I didn’t especially like, and both of Anne’s – Agnes Grey and The Tenant of Wildfell Hall, which I loved.)  Still, no self-respecting Bronte fangirl can get by on only one Charlotte , so it’s time for me to conquer the mountain that is Villette.

If you want to join in, Beth’s sign-up post can be found here.  We’ll be reading over three weeks: Volume I from May 12th-19th; Volume II from May 20th-26th; and Volume III from May 27th-June 2nd.  Sounds do-able, right?  Beth will be re-capping the week’s reading on Sundays, but I’ll put my own thoughts up here on Mondays, since that makes more sense with my blog schedule (and gives me a day to catch up, if I need to).

I’ll also be participating in the Twitter conversation about the book.  We’re using the hashtag #villettealong – so jump right into the discussion, if you’d like.

I’m so excited.  Bring on the Bronte!

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Anna Akhmatova and National Poetry Month

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Well, another National Poetry Month has come and gone.  I had a good time this year, challenging myself to read a poem by Anna Akhmatova every day.  (I didn’t get one in every day, but I did have some days when I read quite a few, so on balance, I finished a selection of her poems and I definitely got to know a new poet.)  Oh, and Peanut got in on the action too, sharing her favorite A.A. Milne poem with you!

Anna Akhmatova was a brilliant talent and an incredibly brave woman.  As I noted in my introductory post, she was one of the only writers who chose not to flee the Soviet Union but instead to remain and bear witness to events there.  The decision cost her: she was in “official disfavor” for much of her life, and was alternately mocked and condemned for her “political indifference” – i.e. choosing to write about age-old themes of love and grief, rather than propaganda.  In reality, Akhmatova was anything but politically indifferent, and quite a few of the poems in the selection I read were love letters to her country – to Russia, that is, and to Russians, not to the Soviet government.  (No wonder she bugged the high-ups.)

For example, on her decision not to join her writing compatriots in exile:

I’m not one of those who left their country
For wolves to tear it limb from limb.
Their flattery does not touch me.
I will not give my songs to them.

Yet I can take the exile’s part,
I pity all among the dead.
Wanderer, your path is dark,
Wormwood is the stranger’s bread.

But here in the flames, the stench,
The murk, where what remains
Of youth is dying, we don’t flinch
As the blows strike us, again and again.

And we know there’ll be a reckoning,
An account for every hour … There’s
Nobody simpler than us, or with
More pride, or fewer tears.

Akhmatova wrote feelingly about her times, but she also wrote on themes like love, which transcend politics.  And she wrote poems from Bible stories and sprinkled literary references throughout her work.  But my favorites were those poems where her use of vivid imagery immortalized the Russia that she knew and loved, like this one:

SEASIDE SONNET

Everything here will outlive me,
Even the houses of the stare
And this air I breathe, the spring air,
Ending its flight across the sea.

Unearthly invincibility…
The voice of eternity is calling,
And the light moon’s light is falling
Over the blossoming cherry-tree.

It doesn’t seem a difficult road
White, in the chalice of emerald,
Where it’s leading I won’t say…

There between the trunks, a streak
Of light reminds one of the walk
By the pond at Tsarskoye.

So.  Another year gone, but a new-to-me poet discovered.  And continuing my trend of posting poems after National Poetry Month has actually ended… although this year I don’t have a big announcement to give you as the conclusion to this post.  But I had a good month, and Peanut and I read lots of poems, and I hope you did too.

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The Babyfood Diaries: Pea Puree

Peanut’s gustatory journey through various pureed produce items continues!  Since trying (and enjoying) sweet potatoes, she’s experienced applesauce, mashed banana, and pureed peas – all homemade by Mom (or sometimes Auntie Em, in the case of the mashed banana).  We’re trying to get a rainbow of colors into this girl, and it was time for something green – and for Peanut to embrace her English heritage.  Hence: mushy peas!

Ready?  Let’s whip up some pea puree!

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This is an easy one to make, because it calls for frozen peas.  No prep, and they’re available all year ’round – score!  Start with about 2 1/2 cups of frozen organic peas, straight from the freezer.  (That’s just shy of one bag, but you can go hog wild and put the whole bag in if you’d like.)

Add about an inch of water to the bottom of a large saucepan, and drop the peas into a steamer basket.  Steam 5-7 minutes, until the peas are just warmed through, but still bright green.

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Transfer peas to a food processor or high speed blender (I used my VitaMix with the usual great results).  Process until peas are the consistency your baby prefers, thinning as necessary with water, breast milk or formula.  (I used formula: Enfamil EnfaCare preemie formula, to be exact.)  This would also be a great time to add some chopped fresh mint or basil to the puree, if your baby is old enough for fresh herbs.  We’re not doing any seasonings yet, so I didn’t.

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Portion puree into baby food containers: this recipe makes just about 12 ounces of pea puree, so I divided it into 12 servings of one ounce each (Peanut usually eats about half a serving before getting bored or grumpy) and transfer to fridge or freezer.  (The puree will keep in the fridge for 2-3 days; longer in the freezer.  For food safety’s sake, don’t leave it on the counter!  I like to keep the jars in the freezer and take one out for the next day around the time that Peanut gets her solid snack in the morning.  The peas can thaw overnight in the fridge and warm on the counter for about 20 minutes before baby eats.  Don’t heat them in the microwave – hot spots!  Ouch!)

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Again, the crucial step: feed to the baby and make sure to get pictures of her little green beard.

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Enjoy!

(Recipe adapted from Cooking for Baby.)

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Healthy Strides Community 5K

I didn’t write anything specifically in response to the terrible events of a few weeks ago in Boston, mostly because I didn’t think I really had anything meaningful to add to the discussion.  Most of the things I could think of to say had already been said, and said better, elsewhere.  But Boston has been in my thoughts.  It’s not a city where I’ve spent much time, although my brother went to college there (at Boston University) and I’ve loved every too-brief visit I’ve made there.  I have many, many friends in Boston – just how many, I didn’t know, until my Facebook feed filled up with the reassuring “We’re okay!” messages after the bombing.  And I later found out that the sister of a dear friend, who ran in the marathon that day, was at the finish line when the explosions occurred.  She was unharmed and I know everyone who is acquainted with my friend and his family is incredibly relieved about that.

Kara of it’s a dog lick baby world, a running and parenting blog that I really enjoy, made a good point about the horror of the Boston marathon bombing, at least for anyone who runs: normally when you hear about these terrible tragedies, you think “I can’t imagine…” but what is truly horrifying about this bombing is that you can imagine it.

I’m a slow runner, and I will never, ever qualify for the Boston marathon – and I’m okay with that, because I just want to get out there, run, have a good time, and try to live a healthy lifestyle.  But even though I’ll almost certainly never complete this particular race, I’ve run in other races, including one major DC race that is popular and crowded enough to attract similar unwelcome attention.  I can honestly say that when I was running in that race (back in 2011), it never occurred to me that someone might attack the finish line.  I sort of thought I might faint at mile 8 and never actually see the finish line, but the idea of a tragedy of Boston marathon magnitude… nope, never entered my mind.  It sure will the next time I register for a big, popular race, though.

Last weekend, my sis-in-law and I lined up for the Healthy Strides Community 5K at Burke Lake Park in northern Virginia .  It was a tiny little community race – even tinier, probably, than it would otherwise have been because it was scheduled for the day before the Nike Women’s DC Half Marathon.  E’s goal was to run every step of the race.  My goal was to have fun and finish my first race as a mom with a smile on my face.  We both achieved our goals.

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The race started at one of the picnic shelters and continued on shady park roads.  The 5K course was a simple out-and-back – a little hilly, but fun nonetheless, and with pretty lake and woodland views to distract the runners from their burnin’ lungs.  As I covered the course, I thought about how much I’ve missed this running community.  My last race was a freezing cold trail 5K over Valentine’s Day weekend in 2012; I spent the 3.1 miles wondering why I felt sick to my stomach and nearly collapsed at the finish line.  (Unbeknownst to me at the time, there was a microscopic little Peanut who had taken up residence and was making my stomach churn and my head swim throughout the race.)  I stopped running early in my pregnancy because it felt wrong, and later realized that it must have been my “mother’s intuition” speaking – and I was glad I had listened to that inner mama, when I was put on activity restrictions and then bed rest for pregnancy complications.

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I’m not sorry I took that time off from running, because I needed to do it for Peanut, but I’m glad to be back now.  I missed the excited chatter at the start lines, the encouragement from fellow runners on the race courses, the volunteers who give up their weekend mornings to hand out water and shout things like “Good job, runners!” for hours, and especially, the burst of adrenaline and pride upon crossing the finish line (whether it’s a 3.1 or a 13.1).

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I thought about Boston while I was running in this relaxed, low-key 5K.  I thought about the people who worked so hard, and logged so many miles, to get to the start line – and the finish line – that day.  My slow, plodding “icebreaker” 5K was for them.  I also thought about the journey I’ve personally taken over the past year – from pregnancy to delivery at 31 weeks, parenting in the NICU, and then finally getting some of the normal life I craved back.  I thought about the kind of mom I want to be – an active mom, who teaches her kids that it’s fun to get outside and move – and how this slow 5K was just the beginning of what I hope will be many, many years of demonstrating a healthy lifestyle for Peanut and her potential future siblings.  And I remembered how, when I was stuck on the couch trying unsuccessfully to hold Peanut in last summer, I yearned for the ability to do just this very thing: to go outside and put one foot in front of the other.

Yes, I really missed these people and this sport.  And I love that we’re all still here, still getting out there, still toeing the start lines and sprinting across finish lines.  A little community 5K in a northern Virginia park is no Boston marathon – no one would claim that it is – but when you’re standing at a start line, you feel solidarity with runners everywhere.  Fast, slow, beginner, advanced, new mom, old pro, we’re all friends and we’re all still here.  We’re in this thing together and we won’t be scared off.

I’m already looking out for my next race.

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Reading Round-Up: April 2013

Reading is my oldest and favorite hobby.  I literally can’t remember a time in my life when I didn’t love to curl up with a good book.  Here are my reads for April, 2013…

News from Heaven: The Bakerton Stories, by Jennifer Haigh – I was already a fan of Jennifer Haigh’s work, having read her novels Faith and Baker Towers , and I was excited to return to Bakerton in this volume of short stories.  The stories didn’t disappoint: many of my favorite characters from Baker Towers reappeared and the writing was lyrical.  Fully reviewed here.

The Crown (Joanna Stafford #1), by Nancy Bilyeau – The first in a series (or trilogy? I’m not sure) starring Joanna Stafford, an aristocratic novice nun during the time of Henry VIII, this was a relatively engaging read.  It’s a plot-driven book that goes quickly and would make for a good summer read.  There were a few typos, which got to be a bit distracting.

Tiny Beautiful Things: Advice on Love and Life from Dear Sugar, by Cheryl Strayed – You might think you have problems in your life, and then you read the letters to Dear Sugar and the responses sent back by Cheryl Strayed, and you realize that you actually don’t have problems, after all.  The writing was beautiful, and the letters were searing.  If you’re going to read this one, have a box of tissues handy.

Honor, by Elif Shafak – I was excited to read this family saga, immigrant epic, and account of an honor killing in London in the 1970s, but it turned out I had a hard time getting into it.  The characters didn’t really engage me and some of the sub-plots just seemed extraneous.  Good writing, though.

The Sweetness at the Bottom of the Pie (Flavia de Luce #1), by Alan Bradley – I’ve been looking forward to starting the Flavia de Luce novels and I wasn’t disappointed.  Flavia, an 11-year-old diabolical chemist who lives in a manor house outside an English village in 1950, dedicates her life to studying poisons and tormenting her two older sisters (don’t worry, they give as good as they get).  So Flavia’s life is pretty tame – that is, until she stumbles across a body in the cucumber patch.  Armed with her extensive knowledge of chemistry and her trusty bike, Gladys, Flavia will help the police solve the crime whether they want her assistance or not.  Such fun!

People of the Book, by Geraldine Brooks – I loved March, and the premise of this book – tracing the history of a rare Haggadah back to its creation – fascinated me.  The historical parts of the book were extremely well-written and fascinating.  The present-day (well, 1990s) plot, focusing on the grating book conservator, her hyper-critical mother and her dysfunctional relationship with the rare-books librarian who rescued the Haggadah, was less engaging.  The characters were unrealistically accomplished and most of them were highly irritating.  Read it for the historical plots; skim the present-day plot.  (“Read” as an audiobook.)

Walking Home: A Poet’s Journey, by Simon Armitage – I threw this one across the room when I was finished.  Most of the book was good – funny in parts, with great descriptions of the scenery Armitage encountered while walking the Pennine Way backwards, from Scotland to the English Midlands.  But the ending was infuriating, and it made me hate the whole book.

Queen Victoria ’s Book of Spells: An Anthology of Gaslamp Fantasy, ed. Ellen Datlow – This one was spotty for me.  I enjoy the gaslamp fantasy genre (I’ve read and loved Jonathan Strange and Mr Norrell and The Ladies of Grace Adieu by Susanna Clarke, and The Night Circus, by Erin Morgenstern, all good examples of gaslamp) but not all of the stories in this collection hit my sweet spot.  Some did: the title story, “Queen Victoria’s Book of Spells,” was great, and I also loved “The Vital Importance of the Superficial,” “Estella Saves the Village,” and especially Catherynne M. Valente’s contribution, “We Without Us Were Shadows” – which set the young Bronte siblings in a magical world of their own creation and so obviously was going to be the crown jewel of the collection, for me.  Some of the other stories were engaging, but horrifying, and others fell completely flat.  Glad I read it, though – it was worth it just for the four stories I’ve named.

The Perfect Meal: In Search of the Lost Tastes of France, by John Baxter – It’s been awhile since I read a foodie memoir, and this one perfectly scratched the itch.  Learning that the UN has declared the traditional French repas, or banquet, to be a treasure of world cultural history, writer and Paris transplant John Baxter goes in search of the near-extinct French recipes, in an attempt to create the perfect repas in his mind.  Along the way he discusses coffee, bouillabaisse, moules, truffles and more.  I loved this, and highly recommend it with one caveat: DO NOT read the chapter “First Catch Your Elephant,” about what Parisians ate during the siege of 1870-71, while eating lunch.  Learn from my mistakes.

The Sunshine When She’s Gone, by Thea Goodman – It’s rare that I come across a book that I truly detest, but this was one.  First of all, it’s billed as a comedy: don’t be fooled.  There is nothing funny about this book.  The plot description grabbed my attention right away: a new dad, looking to give his exhausted wife a break, decides to take his baby daughter out to breakfast.  When the corner deli is closed, he hops on a plane to Barbados … as one does, I suppose.  Mom wakes up after having blissfully slept through the night to find Dad and the baby gone.  While Dad copes with being on his own with the baby for the first time, he dodges Mom’s calls and leaves her occasional voicemails lying about his whereabouts.  Meanwhile (spoiler alert), Mom promptly sleeps with her ex-boyfriend.  When Dad (spoiler alert) comes home, as we all knew he would, he’s pretty mad to discover Mom’s activities during his absence; angst ensues.  At that point, I felt like sitting the characters down and saying: “You’re an adulteress, and you’re a kidnapper.  You’re both disgusting. Can you just call it even?”  The book promised a fun romp with an underlying theme of two people learning about what it means to be first-time parents, and trying to hang onto a bit of their own identities outside the parent mold.  Well, it wasn’t a fun romp, and if your identity outside the parent mold is doing drugs and sleeping around… um, I can’t relate to that.  Skip this one.

Never Let Me Go, by Kazuo Ishiguro – I listened to this as an audiobook, and was thoroughly creeped out (in a good way) within five minutes.  Kathy H, the narrator, is recounting her life story, starting with her time at Hailsham, an exclusive boarding school in England .  However, there is something very dark, and very wrong, lurking behind Kathy’s seemingly idyllic childhood.  Almost immediately upon beginning the book, you know that there’s weirdness afoot, and it just gets weirder and weirder.  As Kathy describes life at Hailsham and her complicated relationship with her two best friends, Ruth and Tommy, the creeping sense of dread turns to full-on nightmare, made all the more nightmarish by Kathy’s matter-of-fact narrative style and the reader’s dawning realization that she doesn’t even question the “role” that she’s been groomed for.  There’s so much stuff here: stuff about coping with your own mortality, stuff about science and government and ethics.  Look for a full review to come, because WOW.  It’s not a comfortable read, but it’s amazing. (“Read” as an audiobook.)

At Knit’s End: Meditations for Women Who Knit Too Much, by Stephanie Pearl-McPhee – After listening to Never Let Me Go, I needed something lighter, and I also was out of library audiobooks, so I had to delve into my own very small collection.  (I have three: this and two Harry Potter books.)  At Knit’s End is short, sweet and funny.  I’ve read the book before, and I’d listened to the audiobook before, and it proved to be a good rest from the two intense books I listened to this month.  It’s a collection of quotations with related thoughts about knitting, and cute anecdotes from the Yarn Harlot’s life sprinkled throughout.  Fun and relaxing.  (“Read” as an audiobook.)

Akhmatova (Everyman’s Library Pocket Poets), by Anna Akhmatova – This collection of poems by Anna Akhmatova was one of my chosen ways to celebrate National Poetry Month.  (I also read a book of A.A. Milne poems to Peanut, subjected you all to another selection from my beloved e.e. cummings, and read Walking Home: A Poet’s Journey, which was… okay.)  I loved getting to know a new poet, and Akhmatova is a remarkable talent.  More thoughts on her, and one of my favorites from the selection, coming next week.

I’m sort of amazed at the reading I was able to accomplish this month.  For those who don’t know, hubby’s work schedule changed at the beginning of the month and I no longer have the luxury of someone else driving me to work – hence the audiobooks.  But between lunch, evening reading after putting Peanut to bed, and weekend stretches (during naps) I still managed to breeze through ten books, in addition to the three audiobooks.  My reading was spotty: I had a few books that I really enjoyed, like News from Heaven, The Sweetness at the Bottom of the Pie, and The Perfect Meal.  Others were uncomfortable, but good: Tiny Beautiful Things and Never Let Me Go jump to mind.  But there were other books that I enjoyed for stretches and disliked for stretches, and one that I truly hated.  Next month, I’m planning to show a little more restraint at the library and read some books I already own, and I’m pumped about the choices I’ve got set aside!

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Blossom Baby

A few weeks ago, Peanut went on a fabulous adventure: her first trip into D.C., to see the cherry blossoms!  She was enthralled – trees are the hot new thing in our house right now – and we loved seeing her big eyes take in all the blossoms.  We hit the tail end of the peak, because unfortunately, the blossoms were at their best mid-week this year: not great for those of us who work for a living!  But we still managed to see some gorgeous sights, and of course, it was all new for Peanut.  Behold the cuteness:

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Perfect day.

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The Time I Was Almost Recruited By The Big Red Marching Band

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It was my first week of classes, freshman year at Cornell, and I was walking “home” to my dorm, with my khaki messenger bag slung over my shoulder, while the late August Ithaca sun baked down.  As I strolled under the Balch Hall archway, I attracted the attention of a rowdy group of upperclassmen.

“Everybody wants to join the Big Red Marching Band!” they were shouting, adding witticisms about their group’s fame and excruciating coolness.

The Big Red Marching Band was famous on campus, along with the a cappella groups.  No music geeks they…  Or perhaps they were, but on a campus where everyone flew their “nerd” flag with pride, they might as well have been rock stars.

“Hey, you!” one of them shouted after me, a little teasingly.  “Do you play an instrument?  You look like you play an instrument!”

“Yeah!” I called back, with a teasing note of my own, “But I don’t think you want me!”

Two of the upperclassmen raced up to fall in step beside me.  “Yes, we do want you!” one of them insisted.  “What do you play?”

I stopped and grinned at them.  “The violin.”

Their faces fell for an instant, but they recovered quickly.  “You can join the marching orchestra!”

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Things I Collect

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~Grins and giggles from Peanut

~Tea blends

~Penguin Clothbound Classics

~Kisses from hubby

~Bookmarks

~Mix-it-up cake recipes

~CDs by R.E.M., the Shins and the Decemberists

~Books in general

~Northern Virginia hikes

~Mugs

~Vacation memories – and photos

~Meaningful art

~Hugs from good friends

~Minutes stolen and spent on me

~Visits to stunning cathedrals

~Trivia, of both the historical and hockey varieties

~Piano sonatas

~Comfy jersey dresses

~Sunrises and other spectacular views

Are you a collector?

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Peanut: Eight Months

HOW old did you say I am?

HOW old did you say I am?

Eight months, or six adjusted, feels like a big milestone.  Peanut seems to be growing into her personality more and more every day, and hubby and I feel like we’ve got a handle on this parenting thing – or at least, we’re beginning to.

What's so funny?

What’s so funny, Mom?

We packed this month with adventures.  As flu season is winding down, we’re not quite as skittish about taking Peanut out on the town and introducing her to other people.  This month she visited her grandparents in upstate New York for Easter (an eventful trip), walked around the cherry blossoms in D.C. (look for a post with more pictures next week), went on her first hike, and went to her first restaurant.  Oh, and she visited Mom’s office and met both Mom and Dad’s coworkers – a busy month indeed.

Sit down, take a load off.

Sit down, take a load off.

She’s also getting the hang of eating solid foods – so far she’s had sweet potatoes, applesauce, mashed banana, and peas.  She seems to be enjoying all the new flavors.  Or else she’s just enjoying spraying Mom and Auntie Em in the face with green saliva.

I am the dread pirate Greenbeard.

I am the dread pirate Greenbeard.

Our biggest challenge this month has been eating.  Peanut went on a hunger strike when we took her out of town for Easter, and bottles have been rocky ever since.  Sometimes, she’s hungry enough that she just chows down like the Peanut of old – but other days, the very sight of the bottle seems to fill her with some sort of unspeakable baby rage.  We’re pressing on as best we can and just trying to get as much formula into her little tummy as we can, but most bottles are battles these days.  We’ve tried introducing the sippy cup and she’s interested, but not always willing.  I even called her pediatrician and monopolized twenty minutes of the nurse’s time because I was starting to worry that she wasn’t gaining weight as fast as she had been.  (I’m told that it’s normal for growth to start to slow, and she doesn’t seem sick at all – she’s happy as a clam unless we’re trying to feed her – but I’m still watching like a Mommy hawk.)  We think that the continuing meal battles might be related to teething, so we’re offering a chilled teething ring, and Sophie the Giraffe has been pressed into service on quite a few occasions.

Feet taste way better than bottles, anyway.

Feet taste way better than bottles, anyway.

Peanut at 8 Months

Adjusted Age: 6 months

Weight: 14 lbs, 1/2 oz

Clothing Size: 6 months in Carter’s and Little Me.  Other brands have been retired, as she’s too long for them in the torso.

Sleep: Still smooth sailing on that front!  She doesn’t want to nap in our arms anymore, which I know is good – she really should be in her crib – but I do miss the snuggly baby who used to fall asleep on me all the time.  She’s fallen asleep in my arms on maybe two or three occasions in the past month, and when she does I just cuddle in the rocker and enjoy every second before my conscience finally wins and I put her in her crib.  Bedtime is still a breeze, too.  In fact, I think Peanut has slept better than Mom or Dad this month: when we took her out of town for Easter, she slept in a pack ‘n play in our room and we barely caught a wink all night.  Girlfriend snores.

Likes: Still obsessed with Ezra, the dog.  She literally tries to climb out of our arms to get to him.  I don’t know how we’re going to entertain her when Ezra leaves next month (Auntie Em is headed to grad school, and we’re going to miss her like whoa).

Dislikes: Bottles.  We get an easy one every now and again, but most mealtimes are scream-fests these days and we rarely get her full portion into her tummy.  It’s definitely the bottle, because as soon as it disappears, the storm clouds clear and the sun comes out again.

Just don't try to feed me, and we'll be best friends forever.

Just don’t try to feed me, and we’ll be best friends forever.

Favorite Toys: At the moment, Peanut is kind of obsessed with this very loud giraffe thing that has ricochet-ing balls inside it, which she got from Nana for Valentine’s Day.  She stares at it, paws at it, and tries to get to it from halfway across the room.  I’m pretty sure that when she starts to crawl, this giraffe will be responsible.  We’ve named her Gigi, on the theory that all giraffes are French.

Milestones: We’ve got consonants!  Peanut has discovered a whole new alphabet of sounds she can make.  She’s done ba-ba-ba-ba-ba, ta-ta-ta-ta-ta, na-na-na-na-na, ma-ma-ma-ma-ma, and her favorite sound, da-da-da-da-da.  Hubby is thrilled and encouraging her to say da-da constantly… no matter how much I remind him that she just likes the sound right now, and she doesn’t associate “da-da” with him yet.  (She will soon, though, at this rate.  Ten times a day, I hear “DA-DA-DA-DA-DA!” and then “Yeah?”)  We’ve gotten into a little bit of a competition to see who she’ll actually acknowledge first: all day long, hubby is pointing to himself and saying “Da-da-da-da!” while I counter with “Ma-ma-ma-ma!” and we each try to out-shout the other.  Ezra thinks we’ve all gone completely insane.

Quirks: Peanut is really into faces these days.  Don’t pick her up – seriously, don’t – unless you want drool-covered little hands groping every inch of your face.  She also loves pictures of babies, especially her.  There’s no better way to cut off a fussy fit than to show her a picture or twelve of herself.

Drool is good for the skin.

What can I say? I’m just really cute.

Bottle battles aside, it’s been a fun, adventure-filled month!  Next month, we’ll celebrate Mother’s Day and Peanut’s baptism.  Looking forward to more sunny strolls through Old Town and nearby nature trails, too.  Happy spring!

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You Know You’re A Bookworm When…

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~ You look up and realize that you got on the wrong subway train, because you were reading.  And that you’ve gone several stops past the last transfer point, because you were reading.  And now you’re going to have to turn around and retrace your path back, and it’s going to add an hour to your commute, and the first thing you think upon discovering all of this is, “Yay!  More time to read.”

~ You have spent, cumulatively, about a week of your life combing Etsy for vintage books, book crafts, book jewelry and accessories and especially, especially bookmarks.

~ You own a magnet with an alien flashing a peace sign and the words “Take Me To Your Library” and you’re contemplating a matching totebag.

~ You have an entire Pinterest board dedicated to libraries, bookshelves and reading spaces.

~ Your daughter owns a t-shirt that says, “I Have My Own Mr. Darcy: His Name Is Daddy,” and you’re wondering if it would be too nerdy (or just nerdy enough to be awesome) to dress her in it on the day you wear your own Pride and Prejudice tee.  You’re leaning towards just nerdy enough to be awesome.

~ You are considering a bubble bath, but you decide against it because you’re reading a library book and you can’t get it wet.

~ You secretly enjoy long car rides… and long flights… and sometimes even flight delays, because you love getting “borrowed time” when you can read for hours without feeling guilty that you’re not cleaning or working.

~ You miss your old library so much, it hurts sometimes.

~ You are nostalgic for summer vacations, not because of the weather or the cookouts, but because you had no responsibilities that got in the way of reading all night long.  On that note…

~ When purchasing a new flashlight, your main criteria is that it be light enough to hold up for hours while reading under a pile of blankets.  Even if you don’t do that anymore.  Because… well… you never know.

~ You have the devil of a time finding a “dressy” handbag because hardly any of them are big enough to hold even a mass market paperback.

~ You own at least one literary guide to a foreign country and are actively attempting to persuade your significant other to make it the theme of a vacation.  (Come on, hubby, you’ll love a Jane Austen tour of southern England.  I promise.)

~ On the day you find out that your baby-to-be is a girl, you immediately start shopping not for baby clothes, but for a fancy edition of Anne of Green Gables.

~ If you don’t read every day, you get a twitch.  A real, honest-to-goodness, physical twitch.

 What makes you a bookworm?