Progress

As you know, Little and I are in the habit of perambulating within the walls of our fair moated city on a daily basis. The little stroller has gone from portable bed (for a sleepy newborn) to barcolounger on wheels from which he can survey his kingdom and his people. And, survey he does, spinning his little head left and right and craning his neck around to catch all the details. The kingdom is so damned interesting that you've just got to lean forward and hold onto the rail to urge the rolling barcolounger (and the servant who's pushing it) on.


As you also know, the coffee shop is a favorite destination for the little prince and me. From the shop, we can see the passing push carts, tuk-tuks, truck taxis, motorbikes, and cars and the mish-mash of tourists and Thais taking good care of them.


On a recent visit, just about the time that Little was beginning to comprehend the meaning of wave-bye-bye, something happened which again highlighted the contrasts and odd juxtapositions of this place. He peered across the street and lifted a hand to silently wave-bye-bye to the little boy and his mum who live across the street.


I've been wanting to tell you about this little boy for some time, because his name is Gress. Well, that's actually his nickname. His full name is Progress, and he is the little brother of Gram. Oh, you're way ahead of me. Yes, short for Program. And, what to do parents do? They run a dusty, dark internet shop opposite our little latte heaven. And, Gram spends his days (long twelve-hour working days) in the arms of his mother on the sidewalk or in the shop. The names, while incomprehensible to me, represent their parents' wish to bring good luck to these little boys. The irony of this is not lost on me. Gram and Gress are growing up in a poorly lit, unventilated shop at the edge of a busy, sooty street where backpackers need to check their e-mail.

We've tried to strike up an interaction with Gress a few times, but nothing comes of it. He's the same age as Little, but a bit bleary, often recovering from a chest cold (no kidding). As he is carried most of the day, he is a bit passive (try carrying Little for more than fifteen minutes and you've got a bucking bronco in your arms). The pathos of Gress is palpable.

On the day that Little tried to engage Gress from across a busy street (I still can't believe he did it), Gress's mom saw Little waving and looked a bit stunned.

Comparisons between babies are inevitable, but comparisons between lifestyles and the opportunities they afford can be harsh. Not that I know what I'm doing raising this little boy. My biggest fear is that we're somehow hindering his natural (and fascinating) ability to learn. And, while he is as much Thai as he is American, we have decided to raise him largely in the West where he'll have much more opportunity... to progress.

Lucky Day

It's turns out that Friday the 13th is a lucky day, after all. My grandfather, Jimmy (after whom we named Little) used to think it was a very unlucky day. When he was young, he broke his arm hand-cranking a car on Friday the 13th. The engine took and kicked the hand crank, giving him a good whack. But, today three generations later, little Jimmy K. learned to crawl.


In the end, it was just a matter of getting the rear end in gear.


If Grampa were here, he'd be tickled (and he'd be on the floor giving Jimmy big elephant kisses on his wee belly and filling our little Thai house with hilarious giggles).

Bye-Bye, Indeed

I've been very quiet about it, but something big has been brewing for the wee family for some months now; and it's FINALLY here! Yes, three one-way tickets to the USA. The visa came through! Wave bye-bye, indeed!


We won't be going by tuk-tuk or by samlor. This will be that big ol' jet plane to L.A..

Just as Little has mastered the art of the Royal Wave (you know, the back of the hand extended to his public), we're going to be asking him to do it a lot. We're saying a big Bye-Bye to Chiang Mai, the city where we've lived for over two years and heading to the other side of the planet. My husband likes to joke that I'm coming home with two very nice Thai souvenirs from this particular trip (a new husband AND a new baby, if you've not been reading closely).

With only two more weeks in the city and a week in the village where we were married, I'm thinking about all the pictures untaken and stories unwritten (but there is a backlog of about 7,000 photos, so don't panic). More soon, surely.

Bye-Bye

Lest this little accomplishment go unnoticed, I should add that "wave bye-bye" is our newest addition to the list of makes-us-giggle.


My friend Jennifer-Pheonix-Aroha smartly noticed recently that this little blog is an odd kind of baby book. Exactly. I just have to figure out how to keep it forever. Suggestions?

Slitherin' Fool

For the last three weeks or so, our house has been on red alert. Why, you ask? Because Little has gone mobile! He's a slitherin' fool. Not what you'd really call it crawling. More like slitherin' with great purpose in the direction of anything really interesting (to a 9-month-old). Dirty slippers, electrical wires, fans. Stuff you really don't want to see him get to.


For weeks we watched as he tried to move forward, but those damn legs (and cute little feet) just wouldn't get outta the way.


Then, one leg broke free, leaving one lonely little foot pinned under the weight of his little round belly.


Finally, the legs synchronized, which left the belly in full contact with the floor. And, this is where it has stayed.

But, it hasn't kept him from making headway. I should say it's not really slitherin'. It's more like... well, it's exactly like this. Imagine you're caught in a burning building. You drop to the floor to crawl out. As you point your nose to the exit, you realize (oh, shit!) your left leg is broken. With great effort, you throw both elbows forward and drag yourself to the exit, pushing with the toes of your one good leg and dragging the other like dead wood. Oh, and you're drooling profusely (must be the heat of the fire, or something). The spit-polished trail you're leaving on the floor will surely help the fireman track you, if you can't haul yourself out. That's it. That's it exactly.

It's the cutest thing we've ever seen (if a bit humbling at the weekly Tumble Tots program).

Me Now

Last month, Hannah and Eric made their way to Chiang Mai from California, and as they are friends of my good pal Jennifra, they added us to their travel plans. We hosted a few visits this winter from our extended group of friends. We always enjoy showing people around our little city (and having someone to talk really, really fast with, with lots of slang, innuendo, and idioms).


As my last self-portrait-with-infant didn't really satisfy the request for a shot of me, I offer you this lovely picture taken by Eric at our most favorite coffee shop. Hope this satisfies.

PS. I think I'd title this, "Milky Coma." Or maybe, "Vertical Sleeper."

Silliness is Hereditary

Thought you might enjoy this shot from the irreverent family photo archives.


My (wise) friend Nina's one bit of advice when I was expecting, "Keep your sense of humor." It was the smartest thing anyone told me (in a language I actually understand, anyway).

We're doing our best.

Pointy Finger

Zippers, buttons, bows, tags, loose threads, lint (camera lenses). It's all so interesting, especially when your little pointy finger can just about reach it, roll over it, and (if it's at all loose) pick it up!

Feed Me!

Actually, "Feed MYSELF!" Yes, Little has mastered the art of picking up food AND (an important "and") opening up his little clenched fists to push it in.


This two-fisted eating thing is downright primeval. (I'm jealous).

Little, Bigger Every Day

Two new teeth coming in (the uppers), fascination with the index finger (rolls it over his thumb and stares at it with great interest - uses it to pick up tiny things), drinks from a cup (skipped over bottle and sippy cups - not terribly manly), and speaking Thai! ("ta" means "eye" and "grandfather" - "ma" means "come on" - and "ba" means "let's go!" too bad none of it means anything in English.) Still prefers serial rolling to crawling, but I'm in no hurry to be chasing around after him.

Nap Shot

Apologies loyal reader(s). Did I ever mention that I do all this blogging at night after Little lays down and before I fall into bed myself? It's amazing I can run a sentence together. I've been learning from reading other's blogs, some of which are remarkable, and I've been slow to post.

Enjoy this recent "nap shot" while I mull over my next move.

Cute Suit

Alright, already. Enough of the holidays. And to think, I used to come here every year to get away from it.


Just in case you didn't get your RDA of cute today, I offer you this sweet little morsel. As you might have guessed, this is the work of a grandmother. It's cool enough at night that he'll get a good three weeks out of this, before we fold it neatly and keep it forever (Mum is sentimental).

Sit

On Sunday, Amnat and I plopped Little down in front of the tree for some documentation of his most recent accomplishment, sitting!


Well, I didn't say that he was particularly accomplished at this particular accomplishment, did I?


At least, he was good-natured about the whole thing. Flopped over, no fuss.

Today is Tuesday, and he's mastered the art of sitting in the last two days. Wish I could still learn that fast. He's gonna catch up with me pretty quick, at this rate.

At Last, Video!

Been moaning for weeks about being too stupid (and tired) to figure out how to do it, and it was only about three buttons to push after all. How cool is this! I'm feeling quite on top of my game, I must say. Enjoy Little's video debut.

Six Months On

Jimmy's six month birthday on the 11th came right on the heels of Amnat's birthday, a double celebration (and a good excuse to order up a Western-style cake!). That night Jimmy rolled from back to front. Another notch on his belt. He's starting to feel like a little boy. Wiggly and strong. Not the little bundle we brought home, for sure. Don't know how my 42-year-old self is going to keep up with him. Eating my Wheaties (well, lots of rice, anyway).

Come to the Table

Been a little under the weather lately, but I'm back in the blogger seat with a batch of new photos. The last couple of weeks have been just loaded with baby firsts, the most exciting of which is FOOD!



Baby Eats Food Day 1

So, the (prevailing) theory goes like this - feed Little the same thing at each meal for four days. Reason - identifying food allergies. Sort of "clearing" foods for consumption. And, begin with soft and squishy like avocado. Thus, baby's first meal (on a purpose-built plate, no less).



Mum finds the whole thing very exciting. Baby is bemused.



Paw gives it a go too. Little begs for avocado mercy.

At this juncture, Amnat opines, "I think he does not like Colorado."

To which I can only reply, "How would we know? He's never been to Colorado." (I know I shouldn't, but he just keeps handing them to me.)

Baby Eats Food Day 3



Little - HOW often do you expect me to do this?!?



Having cleared baby for Avocado Contact Dermititis, anyway, we move on.


Baby Eats Food Day 5



A whole new day. BANANA! Little actually eats. No gagging. No tearing up. No shuddering. Makes happy bubbly noises. Gums it a bit and gets it down.

PS. Day 6 at breakfast the sound of the mashing fork elicits giggles. We did it!

The Big-Boy Tub

On Monday, Jimmy will be six months old, and Amnat and I are starting to see how far we've come in a short time.



In the beginning, bath time was such a freak-out that no one was thinkin' "let's take pictures!" It was an all-hands-on-deck, white knuckle ride. Nok got this picture at about three weeks (frightening to even recall). But we've suddenly realized we've gone from this ...



to this! Sitting up in the big-boy tub (well, we call it a tub - it's really a glorified bucket, but we can't be too choosy.) It's a squealy splash-fest, but the floors are tropical hardwood, so who gives a damn!



And, oh those floaty balls are so interesting.

Baby Teeth!

Yesterday we spotted them, and today we (almost) got a picture of them. But, for sure, it's BABY TEETH! On Sunday we're going to give some food a try. Oh, boy!

Buddhism in Babyland

I never would have guessed that having a baby would deepen my practice. You hear a lot about fragmented days, fatigue (which has lifted, mostly), stress (SUCH an over-used word), none of which are particularly good for a concentration practice. But no one tells you that having a baby can lock you so firmly in the present.

If you know me (and you do), I'm the great planner, anticipator, general foresee-er. Always churning away on some vision of what's to come. Hell, I made a good bit of money teaching people HOW to plan. Jeeeesh. No wonder I quit. It just didn't hold with my (ever) evolving world view.

This, however, is profoundly different. While I can still churn away with the best of them, Jimmy-in-the-future is a beautiful blank white space where my mind just can't go.

I realized it for the first time when he was about three months old. Amnat said to me that he couldn't wait until Jimmy would be big enough to walk between us, holding both our hands. I was struck dumb. At a loss. No mental picture of what Amnat could apparently see.

I was reminded of it again this week. Nok was playing with Jimmy, and he was laughing. Not grinning. Not baby-squealing. Not that weird inhaling-laugh thing that they do. Full, throaty, expressive laughing. For the first time, we could hear a hint of his VOICE. And, I realized (yes, realized), some day he's going to speak. At a loss.

And, that's fundamentally it. It's fear of loss that keeps me here, today, this day only. The Buddha taught that to love is to suffer. Well, a few of us Westerners think the word "suffer" is a bit of a mis-translation. Overstatement, for sure. To love is great, right? What's all this suffering they go on and on about?

But, I understand now like I've never understood before that to love is to suffer. And, nothing will break your heart like loving your own child.

TV

Sitting over a bowl of noodles with my friend Nong this week, and my 5 and a half month old baby became transfixed. I had noticed the staff glancing at the ceiling above my head, but with a baby on my lap I now sometimes miss the finer points of interior decoration when we are out and about.



You guessed it. A bleepin' TV. And Little kept this up for a good fifteen uninterrupted minutes. I hasten to add that no other experience in his small life has ever produced this response. It's frightening. Downright creepy. (Especially if you've ever seen Thai TV!)