The Escape Artist July 13, 2007

We returned mid-Monday afternoon from a long weekend in Vancouver, B.C.. The occasion for my incredible (and it turns out, unfounded) anxiety about traveling in a car for a million hours with Atticus was my cousin’s wedding celebration.

Of course, Atticus put up with being strapped to a car seat for as long as four hours straight with little fuss. It didn’t hurt that I was locked and loaded with every imaginable diversion I could muster, including thrift store toys and books as well as new sticker books and the amazing Color Wonder markers, which were a huge hit. We also caved in and, with a lot of justification and misgivings, bought a portable DVD player the day before we left. A neighbor kindly loaned us several DVDs for the road. Of course, Atticus was way more interested in the cheap $3 headphones that Mike bought him than the DVD player. But during the 90-minute wait at the U.S./Canada border, when he was straining to get out of the seat, the DVD player did come in handy. He just LOVED “Chicka Chicka Boom Boom”, especially the “Trashy Town” story.

What I didn’t anticipate was how energized he’d be by staying in a new environment. All these buttons to touch and rooms to investigate. I couldn’t get him to go to bed for hours. (If only we’d packed the playpen so I could have confined him.) At the reception he was a superstar, making it through the entire 10=course meal and extremely late bedtime with nary a whimper or whine. He couldn’t leave without breaking a glass lampshade at the condo where we stayed, but other than that, the trip was pretty smooth.

Now that we’ve been home for a few days, and he’s been making up his eight-hour sleep deficit, a new sleep pattern has emerged. He wakes up in the middle of the night, screaming for me and only me, inconsolable and unable to sleep unless I bring him to bed. After two nights of this, Mike and I decided last night he’d have to tough it out in the crib. So when Atticus woke up at 4:15, Mike comforted him but wouldn’t bring him to bed. He screamed, “Mommy! Ma-MEEEEE!” at a rate of once every 2 seconds for what seemed like forever. So I dragged my sleepy self in there, gave him a hug and a kiss, patted his back and put him back in his crib. More screaming. Then screeching. Then… a THUD!

He was so intent on getting into bed with us, he climbed out of his crib… without ANY leverage. I ran in there and found him sitting on the carpet, clutching his blanket with one hand and scratching his head with the other. He looked up at me and said, “Lion?” He wanted his stuffed animal. We had no idea he could climb like that. In a way, I’m flattered that he was so determined to overcome any obstacle to be reunited with me. It’s the toddler version of “The English Patient” when Ralph Fiennes character endures countless challenges (the desert, being arrested, etc.) to get back to whats-her-name British actress, who is in fact dead in a cave. But I digress.

I am not ready for him to move out of the crib yet! We are going to bed tonight unsure of what to expect, since letting him settle back down in bed is no longer a viable strategy.

Happy 23 Months, Atticus!

Atticus Turns 18! February 13, 2007

This is our sweet baby boy a year ago, when he was six months old.

We’ve been hibernating due to extreme teething. Generally Atticus has been pretty laidback and tolerant of pain when it comes to this, but last week his temperature hit 101.1 degrees — holding him was like clutching a hot water bottle — and he wasn’t just whiny, he sought pity. “Waaaah! I dropped my ball! Someone PICK IT UP because poor me can’t deal with the trauma! Don’t you know my teeth hurt like hell?” Fortunately, the worst is over — for now, anyway — and I still find it hard to believe this little boy has 14 teeth!

He had his 18-month check-up today — 90-something percentile on height, 25 percentile on weight — tall and skinny, though it still seems to me that the other boys his age tower over him. He’s caught on about getting shots; this time he saw the needles and started bawling immediately. We had the slowest nurse — she took 10 times as long as the previous nurses, who all had the foresight to shave precious seconds off the ordeal by peeling the paper off the Band-Aids ahead of tim). But Atticus only whimpered for about 10 seconds afterward and then shook it off.

This afternoon we tried out a new nanny. He was having a marathon nap when she arrived, so I had plenty of time to embark on a longwinded explanation about how anxious he is with strangers, how he might scream for a good 10 minutes after we leave, and that he might be grumpy due to his shots. When he finally woke up, we went into his room together. Heeding all my warnings, she cautiously entered and gave him a shy “hello”. But when he saw the nanny, he immediately broke out a huge, flirtatious grin. While I changed his diaper, he kept staring at her and smiling. I put him on the floor, expecting him to cling to my leg. Nope, he ran over to her and proceeded to show off his toys and then go to his little kitchen to fix her a drink. When Mike and I walked out the front door, I expected to hear muffled wails as we walked down the front steps. She said he whimpered for two seconds. Ithink it’s safe to say that he doesn’t have separation anxiety anymore, at least not with her!

Happy 17-Month Birthday! January 13, 2007

Typically I take a photo every month on the twelfth; it’s fun to document how Atticus is changing. This one will have to suffice; it was taken this past Monday at our most fave kid-friendly hangout, Sydney’s Cafe. He’s stuffing a blueberry muffin into his mouth; for some reason, Atticus likes to “bite off more than he can chew” — it’s never a small morsel but a contest to see how much he can wedge in. (Ah, the good old days when feeding him wasn’t a chore. Tonight was slightly less dramatic than last; he ended up refusing dinner altogether and opted for a bath instead.)

As you can tell from the picture, he’s still got that bruise on his head from the holidays (he fell down the brick front steps a few days before Christmas). Well, get used to that look. Just as it was almost healed, a few days ago he hit the exact same spot on his forehead on the chair in his room (prompting a friend to ask today, “Is that the same bruise from before?”), and tonight he stumbled and smacked it again, this time on the living room floor. Now the bump is huge, purplish-pink and painful to look at. Of course he wouldn’t let me ice it. Thank goodness there’s still so much give in their little skulls.

It was 28 degrees when we left this morning for Peninsula Park’s indoor playground. It just occurred to me that it’s not unlike a dog park for kids — they’re all unleashed and romping around at will, fetching balls, jumping, drooling, chasing cars and panting. Atticus is trying to figure out foot-power; he sees these kids scooting around in these little vehicles, and now that his feet can touch the ground, he wants so badly to MAKE IT GO!

He was inside this “police car” but all he could figure out was how to go backwards. There’s a seat on the outside rear of the car for another kid to sit (whoever gets “arrested”, I guess), and a toddler younger and less steady on his feet than Atticus walked up to the seat and tried to put a soccer ball in it. At that very moment, Atticus scooted back about two inches, and the kid plopped gently on his butt — no drama, no tears, no harm done. But his mom made a beeline for her son, scooped him up and cooed “It’s okay, you’re okay,” and… SHE SHOT ME A LOOK! The judgmental, “Shouldn’t you be keeping an eye out to make sure your child isn’t endangering others?” look!

I guess we all have it coming, and surely Atticus will more than earn me that “look” one day, but please… not over something like this!

Biscotti has been in the oven while I’ve been writing. Nothing like the fragrant odor of chocolate to cozy you up on a winter evening. It’s a no-brainer Epicurious recipe and I made a bunch over the holidays. We are going to a pot luck tomorrow, which was a great excuse to bake more. Here’s the recipe. I recommend best-quality dark chocolate (skip the Nestle’s and no carob!), and always substitute dried tart cherries for the white chocolate (I think it’s a more sophisticated touch). Definitely adjust baking times depending on how hot your oven runs. My oven requires me to leave them in longer to get them dry enough. These are gift-ready in a cellophane bag and pretty ribbon.

TRIPLE CHOCOLATE BISCOTTI

1 3/4 cups all purpose flour
1/3 cup unsweetened cocoa powder
2 teaspoons baking powder
1/2 teaspoon salt
1 cup sugar
6 tablespoons (3/4 stick) unsalted butter, room temperature
3 large eggs
1 1/2 teaspoons vanilla extract
8 ounces semisweet chocolate chips
1/2 cup white baking chips

Line large baking sheet with double thickness of foil. Sift flour, cocoa, baking powder, and salt into medium bowl. Using electric mixer, beat sugar and butter in large bowl to blend. Beat in eggs 1 at a time, then vanilla. Beat in flour mixture. Stir in semisweet and white chips. Drop dough by heaping tablespoonfuls onto prepared sheet in two 10- to 11-inch-long strips, spacing 3 inches apart. Using wet fingertips, shape strips into 11- by 2 1/2-inch logs. Refrigerate 30 minutes.

Preheat oven to 350°F. Bake logs until tops are cracked and dry and tester inserted into center comes out clean, about 25 minutes; cool 10 minutes.

Reduce oven temperature to 300°F. Using foil as aid, lift logs onto work surface. Line baking sheets with clean foil. Using serrated knife, gently cut warm logs crosswise into 3/4-inch-thick slices. Arrange half of slices, cut side down, on each prepared baking sheet. Bake biscotti until just dry to touch, about 8 minutes. Turn biscotti over. Bake until top is dry to touch, about 8 minutes. Cool on sheets. Makes about 30.