Our Pixieweight

Since the hand-written journal was abandoned around month six, this blog seems to serve as good a baby book as Stella is going to get at this point. So I figure I should at least document a few stats...

At her 15 month appt, she was
20 lbs 5 oz (only 1lb more than her 12 month) and in the 14% percentile... Our pediatrician asked if she was eating well. "For example, what did she have for breakfast?" I replied, "A whole one-egg tomato and cheese omelette, blueberries and a piece of toast." "Well," she said. "I guess that's pretty good."

Her height (around 30 or so inches?) is pretty average (53%) but sadly, her big ol' noggin is still in the 99% which means that some of the hand-me-down shirts that I love aren't going over her head unless they have snaps or buttons somewhere else.

Stella also is amazing me with the types of food she seems to like. Besides inhaling about any type of fruit you put in front of her (and i mean ANYTHING - from berries to melons to stone fruits to traditional) she loves broccoli, beans, and baked tofu like it's going out of style. Her new favorite snack, besides rice cakes and freeze-dried banana slices, are these sesame, seaweed rice puffs from Trader Joes. Go figure. Plain pasta? Blah. Mom's pesto/sundried tomato/red onion/mushroom salad = absolutely! Soba noodles with peanut sauce? Give me more! Tabbouleh with fresh tomatoes and mint from our garden? Sure thing. And Sundays, when we go on our walk across the neighborhood to pick up our weekly box of organic veggies from a local CSA (seriously folks, totally worth it!) she has to eat at least a donut peach or strawberry or plum on the way home. This week she tried to eat a raw patty-pan squash. I also wonder sometimes whether all this variety is going to back fire on us. But for now, I'm happy that she's willing to try it all. I just hope that when she's 10, she doesn't go searching through an entire plate of lasagna and surgically pick out all the mushrooms and larger bits of tomato. (who did that? are you pointing a finger at me? no way... really... um, let's move on.)

So that's all about Stella for tonight. We won't even get into how enthralled she is with water (ANY kind! Dog water! Hose water! Bath water! Shower water! Ocean water! Puddles! Her own pee!) and running, yes running, for the door to the backyard any chance she can get.

A last photo for my friend Summer - who exclaimed at my baby shower when I opened this gift from my mom, "OH MY GOSH THAT IS THE CUTEST ROMPER EVER. UH-MAZING."

Mama's Boy

So I realize that this blog, although followed by many because of the amusing stories of Stella has become some days most days, posts about me complaining or babbling on about something. A blog? Maybe. A “Dear Diary” entry? Most of the time. Thanks for being so patient….

But today, this blog post is about Scupper, our first “baby.” So I’m training for a triathlon. (Yes, I can’t believe it either, considering how much I have hated running in the past). It’s in September, so I’m half way there with my training, and my brother is also flying out to do it with me (and since it’s a “sibling” thing, my parents are coming too to cheer us on so now it’s a “Family” thing and sure, no pressure… No, seriously, I’m actually very excited about it all, but excitement only gets you so far, and so thus, the training.)

On Friday after work, Steve suggested that we all go down to Dog Beach and let Scupper chase the ball and Stella splash and run head first wade in the water while I do my swim for the day. (Friday was a swim day. See, with a triathlon, you unfortunately have to run, bike and swim and thus, training 5-6 days a week in each of the mediums). So I put on my wetsuit at the water’s edge, watch Steve chuck a ball to Scupper, and see Stella eat sand. All is good. I secure my goggles and head into the causeway that goes out into the Pacific that runs along the edge of Dog Beach. A perfect natural lap lane, if you will. Easy tides for Stella to play in, for Scuppy to splash in, for Mommy to swim in. I begin, and even though the occasional kelp gets in my line of vision, it’s actually ok. I lift my head out of the water briefly to sight ahead, to make sure I’m going in a relatively straight line. BARK BARK BARK. Wow. Who’s dog is that? I keep swimming. 6-8 strokes later, I lift my head again to sight. BARK BARK BARK. I look over.

Oh yes. That’s MY dog. Scupper is following me along the edge of the shoreline (because, although he has webbed feet, refuses to go deeper than his chest and does NOT swim). “Scupper, go back to Daddy. Go!” I duck under again and keep swimming. BARK BARK BARK. I hear Steve’s piercing whistle below the water calling Scup back. He’ll go, I think.

I keep swimming. I lift up to sight. BARK BARK BARK.

My dog follows me the WHOLE LENGTH OF THE BEACH until I finally give up and get out of the water to walk back to Steve and Stella, who at this point, has a diaper full of sand.

Workout, FAIL! is all I can think. Oh well, nice to think that Scup cared so much about my safety (or whatever it was) to keep the “pack” together.

But that’s not all…

On Saturday, we all head to a little land mass that juts into Mission Bay – Fiesta Island – where there is a nice 4.5 mile loop without much traffic so I can ride my bike and do a run. (a double workout. Ugh). There (conveniently) is also a dog park here too. So Steve goes, I’ll take Stella in the backpack and Scupper to the dog park and you ride your bike and run. Ok. So they go into the fenced-in portion of the island and I get on my bike. Scupper sees me take off and runs along the fence-line between the dog park and the road, BARK BARK BARK. He keeps following. I keep riding. I’m going about 15 mph and Scupper is keeping up. Steve whistles. I assume Scupper will stop. Um. No.

WORKOUT FAIL! I have to catch scupper at the edge of the bay (where the fence line stops) and drag him by his collar back into the park, my bike shoes and cleats crunching the whole way. Steve then leashes him until I can ride out of sight.

Oh well. I guess I should be flattered.

But I also think I’ll try a workout WITHOUT him next time. ;)

The "Lovey"

So back long ago... eons maybe... or just about 20 months... I put a little stuffed toy on my modest registry that was a "not necessary but darn it's cute" listing. My friend Dana promptly spoiled Miss Stella and purchased it. I had read in a few sleep books about the suggestion of a "lovey" (which, frankly, is a name I have never liked for some reason...) - basically a stuffed toy or blankie that you could encourage your child to attach to instead of say, your boob or your arms or your shoulder or any other body part that you end up peeling them off of to go to sleep. Get them attached to the "lovey" and then they should start sleeping better.

Thus, exhibit A: the puppy.Let's just say it's a darn good thing that Amazon still has these guys for sale. Stella has become SO attached to the puppy that when she is in a particularly needy moment (teething, tired, unsettled) the puppy must go EVERYWHERE with us, instead of "sleeping" in her crib most of the day, waiting for her to take a nap or sleep at night.

Thus the puppy got lost at Target last week. My fault. Shouldn't have come with us in the first place or i should have tied a string around it or something. Oh well. Glad we had puppy #2. Then I had to go on Amazon and buy another puppy just in case... in case she loses new puppy #1, in case they stop making them (AH!), in case Scupper eats it (a definite possibility still), in case... in case... those of you who have gone through this should be shaking your heads now going, oh yes, I understand.

The puppy tried to go swimming in the outdoor pool today, but i made him go back to bed... he also tried to eat dinner with Stella last night, but I made him wait. He almost found his way into the toilet, but I confirmed with Stella that the puppy doesn't need to poop in the toilet. Oh my. Talk about attachment issues. ;)

May gray... June gloom... July, oh my?

San Diego has this "tradition" if you will of being gray and overcast most of May and June... and (as much as I hate to admit it to you East Coasters who are sweltering in 90+ heat...) I'm wearing a sweater and slippers right now. It's still overcast, spitting rain ever so slightly - and I'm in heaven. I am more than happy if we don't have too many warm days this summer... although that does mean Stella can't wear any of her cute summer dresses, but oh well.

What that also means is that our Fourth of July was not spent at the beach, in the water, or sitting under an umbrella to avoid the sun. Nope. We were wearing long sleeve shirts. However, because I am conditioned to believe that July 4th should involve some sort of pool/beachside celebrating, we did this:
Why yes, that IS Stella in her baby pool with jeans and a sweatshirt.
Ignore our white trash yard of buckets and rags... but the bubbles are fun.
Scup had fun eating them...
And Stella seemed vaguely nonplussed.
And we did need to eat some BBQ and traditional sides... like
like Baby Back Ribs with Cherry Chipotle BBQ Sauce (adapted from this recipe - i didn't use the beef ribs - don't like them)
Or Cilantro-Lime Slaw (UH-mazing)
or Root Beer Baked Beans (pretty darn good - next time add more rootbeer!)
or potato salad and corn on the cob that do not need recipe links. ;)

and for desert? Chocolate Raspberry Paninis! Can you tell I was making up for the last few weeks of not cooking anything exciting?

And then we ended the weekend by sitting in baking pans. Why? Because her butt fits. and i am jealous. ;)

Happy Fourth!

May you have as much today as Stella is... and hey, ANY day in the Van is a good day...