Kinda Camping

If you put your face close enough, these days, Kaleb may reach up and give it a squeeze. He may explore your cheeks with soft, tentative fingers and sometimes you might even get a heartbreaking giggle. And if you're still standing, he'll knock you over if he accompanies this burst of love with a cavernous display of his toothless gums. Or maybe that's just me.

He's really gotten very social lately. He smiles at strangers when they stop to compliment him in a store (as mommy tries to slyly back away from the nice, potential germ-carriers).

He used to cry when someone would stick their faces to close to his "turf" but no longer. He may glance at me for a quick smile of reassurance and then he'll turn it on for his guest.

His mystery crying has stopped. I guess he's old enough to start becoming a bigger part of this world (see previous entry). If he cries, there's a tangible explanation. Mostly it's because he's tired. Mommy will sometimes lug him around because she's still learning to live between nap times. Sometimes it's hunger (And that's a particularly loud one. No mistaking that one for say - boredom).

The hair blow dryer has become my best friend. Times when he's too tired and fussy to sleep are quickly remedied with a 10 minute blast of rushing air (pointed away from the baby, of course!). I tried this as a potential remedy when I read that this "white noise" mimics the sound he heard in my womb. I don't know, I wasn't there but I'll tell you - it works like a charm.

Turns out he's a multi-tasker. He's found his thumb and will suck on the little bitty thing whenever his heart desires. And sometimes it desires right in the middle of mealtime. Boob will compete with thumb for oral terrain. And sometimes he'll miss his mouth and instead stick his thumb in or on his nose or maybe his eye. Occasionally it'll end up in his ear.

We went camping last week. Well, kinda camping. We rented a motorhome so the baby would be more comfortable.

Now, I have always had very strong opinions about people who camp in motorhomes (Howard always laughs when I go down this road). When you have access to a bed and don't have to walk across a campground in the middle on the night to pee, you're not camping. When you can watch a DVD on a giant TV set and listen to the radio, you are not roughing it. I know some may disagree but I don't care. If you don't have to give up some of the modern conveniences to focus instead on the beauty of nature and your inner strength to endure it, what is the point of leaving your living room? Just make a day trip.

Anyway, we rented a pretty sweet 33-foot motorhome "for Kaleb's sake."

We parked it at our favorite surf beach in San Onofre.

And took turns surfing.

Kaleb joined in on the fun.

Though his "board" is the land-locked training wheel version.

(duh)

Our friend Rebekah came down to join us for the day.

And my college friend, Kelly also visited with her two little girls.

They actually camped!

We played Trackball.













We made s'mores by the campfire.

We had a blast.

Camping is fun in a motorhome. Even if it's not all that rough.

Kaleb the Sailor Man!

Today Kaleb is 14 weeks old. (that's 3 months and six days for the laypeople)

And he is changing and growing. Fast. Too fast (see previous entry....).

When I first met him I thought he looked like a little Asian boy. Then he started to look like an Eskimo. I thought, who has Eskimo in their family? Then he started to fill in and started to look more Slavic . Which actually made sense since I am Russian and Howard has Polish in him. The outer edges of Kaleb's beautiful, cobalt blue eyes have that Slavic upturned swing - like a dancing, drunk Russian.

Which is a little funny since I always think after he finishes eating at my breast, that he resembles a drunken sailor. When he's rolling around on my lap with that drool barely hanging onto his lip, I'll often sing to him a song they taught us in Elementary School music class:

What Shall We Do With the Drunken Sailor?
What Shall We Do With the Drunken Sailor?
What Shall We Do With the Drunken Sailor Early in the Morning?

(which also begs the question: why are they having little kids sing about drunken sailors? who makes these decisions?)

At his three month check-up, the doctor told us he was 24 inches long (I think they say "long" until he can actually stand up - at which point he becomes "tall"). He was 14 lbs. and 8 oz. which puts him into the 75th percentile, down from the 85th percentile of last month. (85%! I couldn't believe it when the doctor told me - and then the dr. called him chubby and said something about cellulite on his tushy - WHAT! - I wasn't sure if he was kidding or not - aren't babies supposed to be chubby? at least they are in my family!). And his small head is still in the 35th percentile. He gets that from his daddy.

He laughs and giggles all the time now. At least in the morning. Or after he's had a nap.

He talks up a storm. He says Ma-ma (or at least he puts those sounds together and I'll give him the benefit of the doubt).

He sings with me when I sing to him - or when the iPod is playing he'll sing along. (maybe I'll video-tape this for next time).

He rolled over from his tummy to his back two days ago. Twice. (Or maybe he was just trying to get out of tummy-time).

He grabs at his hanging stuffed animals and sometimes swats at them when they're not responding to his opinions the way he likes.

He'll hold onto a stuffed bear now and will suck the fibers out of any blanket.

And sometimes when he's giggling and cooing at me, he starts to get shy and tries to hide his head. If he starts to giggle after he eats, which he frequently does, because who doesn't feel great after getting to eat your favorite food yet again (boob milk, my favorite, how did you know?) he'll be giggling, get shy...and then try to hide his head beneath my booby. He'll not know the irony of this for some time.

But at night (or even some afternoons) he still sometimes acts like he's auditioning for the next Freddy Kruger flick. (How is he able to scream that loud and that long and not lose his voice? There may be future for him in Rock n Roll.)

And the beautiful thing is when I say he only sometimes uses his vocal chords as claws on a chalkboard, I do mean sometimes.

Some may call this "colic" - that mysterious ailment that had doctors previously giving drugs (anti-depressants and anti-spasmotics) to infants (!) to cure. But I read an article recently that said colic can start at two weeks, peak at 8 weeks and decline until it completely disappears at 12. I guess that must be a statistical average.

But why does it seem like some babies have it worse than others? I think I know. Or, I have a theory anyway.

I think when babies come into this world, they've just left G-d. They're closer to that World than the one in which they find themselves. They stare intensly into "empty" air for lengthy periods of time and laugh at things no one else can see (angels? fairies?). And at times, they all experience a type of separation anxiety. It must be shocking to realize that they're no longer there and instead find themselves with these strangers. Sure, they may be nice but when they're that new, they must also have a clear memory of their most recent bond and connection to their Love and Creator. I believe "colic" is a spiritual malady.

I also think some babies just feel things on a much deeper level than others. It's the emotional seedlings of the people they will become and some carry the echo of this mysterious loss into their adult lives (you know who you are). But when these babies first arrive into this world, they must have an insatiable yearning to return to that Love. It must literally feel like they're going to die without that Love and they wail their frustration at having been abandoned, screaming out the injustice of it all. Then, they (we) start to forget (or the lucky ones anyway). And slowly - they start to also notice the new love being showered upon them by their new guardians: their parents. And eventually they calm down because they like it.

But - then again, it's not like we can ask.