Archive for July, 2011

Yeah, so I haven’t been on the blog too much. Here are some recent photos, in no particular order, with no particular theme. My apologies — more entries soon!



The reading room.

Train to D.C.


So fresh and so clean.


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Miles has transformed my weekday morning departure from a sweet, simple goodbye kiss into a feat of acrobatics — not for Miles, mind you. For Momma.

No longer is he content with a doorway hug and kiss. Instead, he marches out to our landing and demands a kiss through each slot of the stair railing. Of course, the further away from the door he goes, the further down the steps Momma descends, leading to a reaching, leaning, pulling attempt to give him a peck on his perfectly puckered lips.

The first step is always the easiest.

About that pucker — it’s quite possibly the best part. I realize one day he will discover that the pucker we find so ridiculously adorable is not normal. He’ll suddenly get that the great big, wet pucker (which most definitely results in a great big, wet kiss) isn’t what other people do when they kiss.  And he’ll stop doing it. But for now we get this level of cuteness anytime he shares a kiss.

Give me a kiss.

Reach a little farther.

Sometimes Miles helps me out with our goodbye, squatting to the floor and reaching his face through at the lowest point in the railing. Other times he runs all the way to the end of the landing, perches on the ladder to our roof and pokes out his lips. I reach, Melissa cautions me not to injure myself, and Miles waits. He doesn’t seem to understand that Momma can’t levitate for one last kiss. So I kiss my fingers and press his toes (which is all I can reach from that spot) and say more goodbyes as I head down the stairs and out the door.

Bye bye.

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Perhaps my child has read “The Little Engine That Could” a few too many times.  Or perhaps I have.  In any case, here is our photo essay on the theme, “I think I can!”

Warming up.








Almost there.


Ta da!


I thought I could!

Okay, in truth this stepladder is super easy for him to climb.  He climbs it twenty times in a row when I let him — and he never stops looking so durn proud.

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Remember how we were worried about Miles’ weight because his growth stalled and his percentile plummeted?  (Okay, by we I mean I.)  And how I’ve been stuffing him with waffles and Quiche and all things eggy, breaded, cheesy, fried, and meaty?  And how his growth curve has recently resembled a prairie more than a foothill?

He had a scheduled weight check today. He aced it. 

In three months, he had gained almost two pounds (one pound in the last 7 weeks alone) and grown an inch.  The pediatrician is not at all worried about him any longer. 

Huge exhale.

Robin came to this appointment because I was sure he was still “off the chart.”  I knew the doctor was going to have Alarming Recommendations for us and that we would need to make decisions. 

I wasn’t happy walking in the door, and Miles wasn’t pleased to be there either.  He’s old enough to know what the doctor’s office is all about. As soon as we got past the toys and walked to the exam room, he started shaking his head.  “No.  No,” he insisted politely.   He glared at us as he was weighed and measured.  I steeled myself.

Then the doctor breezed into the room and pronounced Miles perfectly fine. 

“Really?” I asked several times.  “Really?”

“Yeah, he never looked sick to me,” she said.  Which is true.  She said that he didn’t look sick but that we should do blood tests and stool samples just in case.  Any parent knows how horrifying those three words are, how treacherous they can be.  Like, your child might be healthy.  Or he could have a bowel disease.  You know.

“It’s usually just behavior,” the doctor said cheerfully.  “They get picky and stop eating their meals, and then you start giving them snacks all day to compensate, and then they never really get hungry enough to eat.” 

It’s kind of a head-scratcher, but whatever.  I know toddlers who graze all day and are like mini linebackers.  And while it’s true that I was offering Miles snacks all day long, he never refused to eat at mealtime.  (I’m sure this will come later. I’m not claiming to be exempt from toddler pickiness;  I just don’t think it was the issue.)  So was the doctor right, and was Miles wasting away from too many snacks?  (So weird.)  Or is this just the pattern his growth was going to take because of some instructions written deep in his genetic code?  I have no idea.

Meanwhile, as we chatted with the pediatrician, Miles nabbed a ride-on toy tiger and headed for the door.  He wasn’t about to stick around long enough for someone to poke him with needles or stick things down his throat, no sir.   

Here’s a cell phone photo of him making a beeline for the lobby.  The feet on the left are Robin’s.  The feet on the right are the doctor’s. 

I’m not sure who was most happy and relieved when we walked out and let the door swing shut behind us. 

The escape artist.

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