The Way I See It

Asher didn't take a nap today, so he had to go to bed early and you've got Liana tonight. I've got everything figured out. If you're ever confused about anything, just come to me and I'll have your answer. Even if it's something I've never heard about before, I'll figure something out. I'm that good.

Now, I think Asher has posted on here before about how Gillian wants another baby. Specifically, a girl baby. She talks about it all the time. All. The. Time. Well, the other day she brought it up...again...and this time I had to set her straight. This time she was concerned that if Asher grew up we wouldn't have any more babies. (At least she doesn't want to lose him anymore.) So, she said that when Asher grows up, we'll just go to the doctor to get another baby in Mommy's tummy. I don't know what planet she's from, but that is not how babies get into tummies. What happens is...the tummy decides. When Mommy and Daddy want a baby, the tummy decides when they can have one. The tummy also decides if the baby is going to be a boy or a girl. So, if Gillian really wants a girl baby, she better start being nice to the tummy.

I just tell it like it is.

I also want to give a shout out to my buddy Gila today. We are all thinking about you today and we love you!

Why did the chicken cross the road?

The answer to this question is a simple one:

Because I was chasing it because I wanted to eat it.  I LOVE CHICKEN.  I like it fried, baked, broiled, broasted, roasted, sauteed, kabobed, pulled, jerked, jerkyed, sausaged, sliced, cubed, boned, boneless, organic, free ranged, mechanically separated, casseroled, souped, kieved, chillied, scalloped, nuggeted, tendered, and turdukened.  Now, I have not had it in all those forms, but I assume that I would like them for the simple reason that I LOVE CHICKEN. 

Sorry for the lack of reading material recently for you my loyal fans.  My dad has been sick for the past week and has had to write a lot of IEPs (I do not know what they are because since they are not made of chicken, I am not interested)  My mom has become even more domesticated.  She is on the sewing machine seeeeeeew much.  You know of the baby carriers and the dresses, the baby legs and the dirty diaper bags, but you might not know that she has started making sleep sacks.  She even made one for me.  Even though it has not been cool enough to wear it, I know I will sport it like a champion.  By the way, I LOVE CHICKEN.  Her other cool project ties into her Tot Shabbat group.  She made a felt board to help tell bible stories.  You should see the whale, it was so cool.  Dad had a great idea for mom to make portable ones for my tormentors to keep them busy as we drive to Chicago this weekend.  The look great.  They even have a pocket for the felt pieces.  She is going to give Martha Stewart a run for her money, except for that insider trading thing, my mom knows not to play with dirty money.  Well,  I guess there is only one more thing to say tonight before I go to bed...  I LOVE CHICKEN, and my dad, but mostly chicken.  When he gives me chicken that is cool.  And I also love breasts.

From chickens!  I am only 8 months old.  You people have dirty minds.  I should not have to make this clarification.  I just prefer the taste of white meat.  Come to think of it, I like the other type of breasts too, they give me milk.  It is like my own little Oberweis except the only deposit is in my diaper. 

The Best Thing Ever

My life was changed today. Out of nowhere I saw a magic ghetto blaster wielded by a skinny dude wearing nerd glasses with a fuzzy orange hat and orange jump suit. Suddenly, this magical box opened to reveal 5 colorful creatures. Then, with a wave of the orange guy's hands, the creatures came to life. First there was Muno (he's tall and friendly), then Foofa (she's pink and happy), then Brobee (the little green one), then Toodee (she likes to have fun), and finally there was Plex (a magic robot). And the name of the orange guy was DJ Lance Rock. Thus began my journey into the world of Yo Gabba Gabba.

It was exhilarating. The colors, the music, Andy Samberg doing a dancey dance. I couldn't look away. It was like they went into my brain, pulled everything out, splashed a bunch of paint on it, and put it on TV. (I know I'm a baby and shouldn't watch TV, but when you have big sisters it's bound to happen. This was the first time I've actually looked at the TV for more than a few seconds.) All I wanted to do was get up and dance the Alligator Chomp with Andy, but alas my legs and arms do not move in the way I want them to yet. One day...one day...

I Heart Meat

Now, I'm a big fan of putting things in my mouth. It doesn't matter what it is--if it's near my mouth, you can be pretty sure that it's going to end up in there. I have a fun game that I play with my mom where I find random things on the floor and see if I can get it in my mouth before she stops me. She's pretty quick, but I'm getting faster every day. It doesn't even matter how many times a day she sweeps and cleans up the girls' toys. I will find something, and I will put it in my mouth.

In the last few weeks I have discovered the best thing that can be put in your mouth. (No, not My Little Ponies, though they are quite tasty.) MEAT! I've had both chicken and turkey, and boy, are they delicious. I still mostly play with my food, but if there's meat on my tray, it is going in my mouth and heading down to my belly. It's superb. Veggie burgers are pretty good too, but meat is the way to go. Last weekend my family was eating something called brisket, and it looked even better than chicken or turkey, but they wouldn't let me try it. Something about not enough teeth. I have two--that should be plenty! I can't wait until I get a few more teeth so I can sink them into some brisket.

In other news, I've started waving. (I can high five too, but that's kind of old news.) It's pretty funny to do such simple things and see the ridiculous reactions I get from the fam.

The computer with the most recent pictures is in the other room right now, so here's some vintage Asher:

Happy Birthday to my Biggest Fan!

There are many people who regularly read my blog who have birthdays on October 20: Snoop Dogg (who I like to call "The Puppy"), Tom Petty (he won't back down on being my biggest fan), Dr. Joyce Brothers (she would advise you that she is the biggest fan), Viggo Mortensen,(now I could make a LoTR joke, but I am going to take the high road and go after Hidalgo, actually, that is joke enough) and John Krasinski (apparently he did not get the memo that he is not the biggest fan). They all might think they're my biggest fan, but they have nothing on the real one.

And who is this fan?  The tribe has spoken and it is....  LEE!

Yes, Lee, it's you. In anticipation of your special day tomorrow, here is a post dedicated to you. I know I have many loyal fans, and I do love all of you and am appreciative of your time and attention, but I can always depend on Lee to post some witty comment in response to my posts on my Mom or Dad's Facebook page. No matter what time of day, or what my subject for the day, you always find something to say. My day is not complete if I have to go to bed and you have not yet posted your response.

Happy Birthday Lee.  I will stand for you now.

One of These Things is Not Like the Other...

My Nana and Gaga are wine snobs. They are in several mail order wine clubs and this week they received their shipment from the New York Times Wine Club. This is what they received (sorry it runs over on the side there):

Now I'm just a baby who doesn't know much about wine. (I do, however, know a lot about whining.) The only wine I ever had was the Kedem I had at my bris, and I had other things to worry about that day. But, I do know that something looks out of place in that picture. Something tells me the New York Times isn't including any Boone's Farm on any of their lists.

Here's your picture of me for the day.

Family Traditions

There's a tradition in our family. Like all the best traditions, no one is really sure why it started and why it continued, but here we are, 30 years since the first time it happened, wearing spaghetti squash on our heads.

It started back when my mom was a baby. Her parents ate a spaghetti squash and decided to put it on her head. There is a picture of the incident. She has food all over herself, and a spaghetti squash hat.

For a while, all that remained of the incident was the picture. Then, even before my parents had kids, they decided to bring it back. And pretty much every year since then, they get a spaghetti squash and make us wear it.

It may not be a noble tradition, but it's ours. It's disgusting, and we all need baths when we're done, but for a few seconds, it's kind of funny.

ICAN, You Can, We All Can!

I hope you all had a good Walt Whitman Day yesterday. It was quite exhilarating. I was so busy celebrating throughout the night into the early morning that I did not have any time to post. Hopefully you were so busy celebrating that you forgot to check my blog and didn't miss me.

Anyway, today I want to talk about what Mom and I did on Monday. We always have adventures in the mornings when the girls are at school. Usually they involve going home and me taking a nap while Mom does something else (also take a nap). Sometimes it's grocery shopping, a nice leisurely stroll through the hood, or shopping for things other than groceries. Monday we went to a meeting for ICAN, the International Cesarean Awareness Network. According to its mission statement, ICAN is "a non-profit organization whose mission is to improve maternal-child health by preventing unnecessary cesareans through education, providing support for cesarean recovery, and promoting vaginal birth after cesarean (VBAC)." As you all probably know, Mom had a cesarean with Liana because Liana was as stubborn then as she is now. Also, she got talked into a lot of interventions during labor without understanding the full effect those interventions can have on the natural labor process. At one point she was on so much pitocin that circus animals would have used less.  We are talking elephants loyal readers.  This is a whole lot of pitocin. Did you know that 30% of births in the United States are done by cesarean? That number is too high, and that is why ICAN is so important.

So, at the meetings, moms talk about their cesarean experiences. Some of them are horrible. Mom's was a cakewalk compared to some of these stories. The moms also offer support for pregnant moms who are hoping for a VBAC. It sounds like a lot of doctors and insurance companies are afraid of VBACs, so it can be very difficult for moms to have one. Some hospitals even ban VBACs. It doesn't make sense because, for most women, VBAC is a safe option. It's not like a cesarean is risk-free--it's major abdominal surgery. But people act like it's so safe because it's so common.

Mom had VBACs with Gillian and me. She wants to make sure that anyone who wants a natural birth can have it and that no one has to have a cesarean who doesn't really need it. As she says, her cesarean was necessary at the time, but had she been more educated, it probably wouldn't have had to happen. So, check out ICAN online, read some birth stories, get some education, and maybe you too can help prevent unnecessary cesareans.

I had fun at the meeting because there were lots of kids there, and only one of them was a girl, so I didn't have to feel outnumbered. Plus, I was the cutest one.

This is how you know it's time to lower the crib mattress. 

 

My First Walt Whitman Day...I Can't Wait!

What combines the gift-giving nature of Chanukah, the love of Valentine's Day, the pageantry of Mardi Gras, the fasting of Ramadan, and the green-wearing of St. Patrick's Day? Those in the know know it's Walt Whitman Day, and boy am I excited for my first one.

My Dad tells the story like this: It was a late night in the archives of Milner Library at Illinois State University and he and his friends were researching for an English Lit paper. They came across and thin leather-bound book tucked into a crack in the wall. The book looked very old, dating back hundreds of years. The book discussed the legacy of a man yet to be born. This man was Walt Whitman. The book spoke of him in future tense--it wasn't a biography of what he had done, but what he would do. There were twelve chapters. Each chapter had ten subsections. All about Walt Whitman, this man who would be great. The final page simply said, "October 12."

Ever since that day, my dad and his friends have observed October 12 as Walt Whitman Day. This year, they're observing as follows:

Left socks will only be worn on right feet.
Collect leaves of grass.
Roll pumpkins down hills.
Watch an early episode of "Lost." (For the character named Walt.)
Eat a Whitman's Sampler as one of the four festive meals.
Go to a library.
Call a friend they haven't talked to in a long time.

My dad will definitely be doing the last one, as that is the main observance on Walt Whitman Day.


My dad and his friends are weird, but this is a day loaded with ever changing tradition.  Even though I have not yet celebrated one, I see the excitement in my dad's eyes.  He keeps chanting this list of words with the initials of  GCWTSOTWW.  Those of you who know, know that the G is a little pickle and the T stands for Tina. 

Here is a picture of Wally and a picture of me.  Do we look alike?  I do not think so.  My mom is excited because last year on Walt Whitman Day we got our van.  That might be why they named it Walt.  I am off to bed.  Lots of celebrating tomorrow.

I'm Back!

Hello again, my friends and fans! I'm finally feeling back to normal after my long convalescence. The 1-2 punch of the new tooth and the cold really knocked me down. I couldn't get comfortable, couldn't sleep. And when I'm crabby and can't sleep, you know Mom and Dad are crabby and can't sleep too. I have since caught up on my sleep, but Mom and Dad are still a little zombiefied. I kind of got into the habit of sleeping with them when I wasn't feeling well. They've been trying to get me back into my crib, but can you really blame me for wanting to be snuggled with Mom and Dad instead of being in my crib all alone? With Mom and Dad I'm warm and cozy and all I have to do is roll over to access the all-night all-you-can-eat buffet. (Not to mention, The Frog is not in Mom and Dad's room.) Plus, Liana has stopped coming into their bed, so the only terror I have to deal with is Gillian--and she has actually been pretty good about going back to her room. They can keep trying to put me in that crib, but I can tell you I'm not having it.

In other news, I'm learning all kinds of new things. I can sit up on my own now. Let me clarify, I have been able to sit on my own for a while, but I couldn't get myself into a sitting position from laying down. Now you can put me down on my belly or back and I can be up on my butt in a matter of seconds.

I have also figured out the wonderful thing called standing. All I have to do is grab something (usually Liana's or Gillian's step stool) and then I pull and move my feet and I am up! Now that I know this is possible I have a whole new perspective on the world. I can't wait to see what I figure out next.

Now enjoy these pictures from the new camera!

New Camera!

I'm still pretty cranky. I've got a fever and congestion now on top of this infernal tooth. So, until I'm feeling up to being witty and observant again, here are some awesome pictures from my parents' super awesome new camera.