Alana has begun to talk, in her mind at least.   To the rest of us, it sounds like this:

Its not very loud, and she’s not much of a conversationalist.   Unless she happens to be lying next to me, in which case she is babbling in my ear worse than a drunk at a bar who’s cell phone battery just died.   The spitting sound gets kinda gross, it makes me feel moist, and I keep expecting she’ll reach a conclusion and soon be making a dramatic point, upon which all this expectoration will climax, and then end.

It does not happen.   Instead, she inches closer to me, and knocks her giant now-fuzzy head against mine.   Its kinda sweet, but mostly its hot.   And hard.   Why is it a tinyHead hurts me more than it hurts her?   She also likes to kick and flail in all directions, but seems to reserve most of the kicking and flailing for my ribs and nards.   I kinda understand this, in a weird way, for if you can’t kick and flail against something, how do you know that you are kicking and flailing successfully?

I shove her across the bed, to gain some space.   She rotates, how can she rotate when she can’t even crawl?   Now the Business End of the baby points at me.   She dozes, I doze, as tinyFarts blow into my mouth.

Leaves her stuff wherever she feels like it, parks her car in my spot, bogarts the music selections, complains about the thermostat, talks while I’m on the phone, does not pick up after herself, dresses wholly inappropriately, uses language not acceptable in the workplace, eats at my desk, and poos by the printer.

Little Miss Grabby Grab starts each morning with a bowl of grabola, grabs herself a nap, grabs hold of a strap, or a diaper on the changing table, or my hair, or my keyboard…no wait, she kicks my keyboard as she flings herself out of my arms and nearly pitches to the floor.   Yesterday she flung herself out of the bed and landed with a thud and had me checking for concussions and blood and tickling her toes.   But mostly she just grabs things.

grab grab grab.   grab grab grab.   the grabby hands grab the brain and drag it forward.   or maybe its the other way around, but i’m pretty sure the hands are coming first.   I am trying to feed it, letting her grab toys and rattles and causes and effects.   Except when I’m getting kicked.

Alana likes to read

this mess, ironically, is not brought to you by the letter G

sometimes The Hands go horribly wrong

“Things” fascinate Alana, and the grabbing of them is the discovery of purpose for her hands. And they are now employed purposefully, all the time, grabbing papers and cups and clothes and stinky diapers and my face whenever such Things fall within their range.   The notion that the Things are not an end in themselves is a concept light years beyond Alana’s comprehension. She has a THING in her HAND!

A THING, in one’s HAND. *sigggggggggh*

The Thing-Grabbing is the crest of a wave of alertness that has grown in the last few weeks.   Its kinda cool, she is no longer a Pod.   It kinda sucks, she is no longer a Pod.   She is alert.     If she’s crying and she sees you walk by, she cries louder.   If you walk into a room, she wants to inquire.

This is sweet, but it inspires irrepressible   feelings of guilt and neglect when I continue on and don’t pick her up.   They last until the next time she leaves me not choice but to pick her up.   She has learned screaming is an effort best saved for effect.

Unless she is genuinely hurt, she stops crying and resumes   – or not –   depending on the wisdom of your choice.  

• Stinky pants->pick her up and put her on the changing table->all is well.
  
• Stinky pants->pick her up say good morning and get in the shower->all is not well.

G giving her attention gets Alana’s complete and undivided attention.   I don’t know if its that G is so much smaller, or the bubbly and reckless way she approaches Alana fascinates her, but she has an effect on Alana that is captivating.   I’m going to harness the power of Hurricane Genevieve for good as a tantrum repellent.

Alana is not a thin baby. She has huge heaping 64-oz-Coke-&-bucket-o-chicken thighs. She has grandma droop in her upper arms. Her butt is mushy. She has cankles on her ankles, and cankles on her wrists. She looks like a cross between a summer sausage and Jabba the Hut.

Its very cute. 17lbs worth.

She can put away some food. Milk she drinks as a matter of course, and downs copious amounts in a steady, camel-like manner. Future drinking-contest champion. Food turns her into a ravenous beast. But one with no coordination or core\abs muscles. Her limbs flail about, legs kicking things over, and hands grab whatever they find and drag it towards her sloppy goo-covered mouth. Her heads bobs up and down, like she is trying to rend a meaty ham from downed prey. Tupperwares of mushy sweet potators and plastic spoons bring out her inner predator.

At her 6 month checkup, she was 75th percent for weight, height, and the size of her head. I should be kinda happy about that, and though the numbers indicate I am wonder-dad, I just can’t get over feeling like she is not as well developed as G. I try to remember if we challenged G as much to use her legs and her neck and her back, or if it just seemed so much more weighty and difficult that we were angst-ridden by it? Pretty much every day I’m home with Alana she spends several hours on her playmat, in the bumbo getting fed, or similarly getting challenged while I notice only a scooch.

The nurse asked many more subjective questions, all affirmative: does she recognize you? does she babble? does she pass things from hand to hand?

mmm…yes

Its not that I don’t want to spend time with her, the time simply is not there. I’ve split from 4 to 9 entertaining jr.chollaballs. I shall endeavor to improve upon its quality.

Today I tried her out with some avocado. Noel said kids like it, the waitress made a dollah for a slice, i am optimistic about its future.

This is perhaps the happiest day of my life!

It works best with the little baggie inserts, since the bottle they fit inside seems to have a nipple that captures like an ounce of milk at a time, and makes a defacto backflow prevention valve. Perfect for clumsy babies, slosh gets in and it won’t come out.

Alana is evolving. Soon we will have to stop calling her Pod. She gets bored, and we have to work to keep her entertained with toys and Baby Einstein vids and tummy time and her bouncer.   I am thrilled, her body will help grow her mind, her mind is helping to grow her body.

driving is a big responsibility for a young Pod

I’d be scared with G driving too

first attempt at actual food. still working on the dismount. Her looks of dismay are pretty funny.