A Good Read

Clara's absolute favorite activity is reading. She is content to have me read to her all day. And last week when she was sick, that is about all we did.

Of course, I should be thrilled. Deep down, I am.

However, if I read "Where's My Nose?" by Stephanie Ring one more time, I may just throw it across the room.

For a month of two, "Are You My Mother?" by PD Eastman was the absolute favorite. She just couldn't get enough of it. I had had more than enough. Slyly, I hid it on top of the washing machine and it was promptly lost for at least two weeks. Sweet relief! However, the baby bird, the kitty and the cow have recently rejoined our family, and I guess I did kind of miss them.

Other books, I try to scatter around in her bookshelf, thinking that if they're not grouped together on the bookshelf, maybe she'll branch out with her literary tastes and pick something else. No luck. Even when I put "Peek-A-BOO!" (a cute, lift-the-flap, Halloween book) upside down and backwards at the very back of the shelf, she still managed to fish it out.

For pity's sake, Clara--it's almost Christmas. Can't we say goodbye to Halloween yet?

Apparently not.

"Peek-A-BOO!" may find a new home on top of the washing machine one day very soon.

Wind + ice cream = bad news

I am officially a bad Mexican mommy.

Yesterday, Clara and I went to the park at the Alameda. I did not realize how windy it was until we were there. And Clara's head was not covered. Granted, if I did try to cover it, I'm fairly certain that Clara would have taken the hat off, but I didn't even give her the option yesterday. The park was packed (full of other bad Mexican parents apparently--all those kids playing in the wind?!?), and Clara was a bit overwhelmed, so we went home much earlier than I anticipated.

We were waiting to eat dinner with Mario whenever he got home from work. As he was not home when we arrived, we busted out the ice cream. And ate it with relish.

After ice cream, Clara and I went to read books on the couch. She was snuggling up close to me and being quite still, rather unusual for 4:00 in the afternoon. I asked her if she wanted to lay down.

She plopped right over on the couch. Wow.

As popular wisdom states, wind + uncovered baby + ice cream = one very sick baby.

Being a gringa, I've always dismissed such popular notions. However, I failed to account for the fact that my daughter is Mexican. The rules that apply to my health may not apply to hers.

Perhaps it is just possible that wind and ice cream will have an adverse effect on the poor kid.

Or maybe it was the virus that Mario brought home the other day.

Either way, it's one sick, lethargic day at our house.

Winnie the Poo

For the last few days Clara had been fighting, screaming and crying when it was time to change her diaper. Finally, I tried another tactic.

"Clara--do you want to use the potty?"

To my surprise, she said yes. I'm not even sure she knew what the potty was. However, we trotted off to the bathroom, took off her pants and diaper, sat her on the toilet for a split second until she wanted to go down. Then we went back to her room to put on a clean diaper. Not exciting, but no fights ensued. And she's wanted to return to the bathroom ever since.

So today we bought a potty seat. We almost had to wait, as we feared that our only options were a red, Rayo McQueen chair or a purple-and-pink princess chair. Finally we found a yellow and green Winnie the Pooh chair and even Mario preferred that over the other two options. (He HATES Winnie the Pooh.)

Later, he had clearly rationalized his acceptance of the Pooh chair when he told Clara, "and now you can poo on Winnie the Pooh." No regrets there.

This afternoon, Clara and I spent about a half hour at a stretch getting on and off the potty. Also, pulling her pants on and off. At this point, I'm pretty sure it's just a game. And while the only sign of potty training readiness she has shown is that she can walk to the potty (doesn't say pee or poop, doesn't seem to realize when she's peeing, can't pull her pants up or off), it is pretty exciting that she's interested. I'm just not expecting anything to happen at this point.

So if you need me this week, I have a feeling that I'll be in the bathroom.

Papa? Papa?

Clara is often asking where Mario is when he's at work.

"Papa?" [blank look] "Papa?"

"Papa's at work," I usually reply.

Today was different. Today Mario went to Monterrey to renew his US tourist visa.

"Papa? Papa?"

"Papa's in Monterrey so he can get a new visa so we can visit Grandma and Grandpa for Christmas." There's a simple, easy-to-follow answer for the one-year-old, right?

"Mama?" Now, she doesn't usually ask for me when I'm in the room . . . and I just got the feeling that she wasn't asking about me.

"Do you mean Grandma?"

[Clara nods her head 'yes'.]

Aww . . . Clara remembers my parents! I'm so glad we can see them so soon after our last visit.

When Mario returned, I asked him if he'd be getting his visa back within the standard 4-6 weeks. We're cutting it pretty close for Christmas, aren't we?

"They said it would be 12 weeks".

My face dropped and my brain couldn't quite take in that information. Mario cackled straight away at his "funny" joke.

"Nah--it'll be 3 weeks."

Phew . . . that stinker really had me going there!

It's About Time

1) Since it's been awhile since I posted a Clara update, and
2) the kids is making strides (quite literally) in a number of areas,
here's the skinny on Chubbs:

She walks! Without holding onto my hand! The second week that we were visiting my parents, she and I went to Parkview North's playground. I was sitting on a bench about 3 yards away from her as she played with their enormous abacus. After awhile, she pooped out, took a seat, and asked me to pick her up. I told her to walk to me. She kept asking, I kept insisting. Finally, she planted her hands on the ground, hoisted her heiney in the air, got to her feet and walked over to me. I was incredulous. She just looked at me, plainly saying, "What's the big deal? Of course I can walk."

Thanks for finally letting us in on the secret.

Her vocabulary is also advancing with leaps and bounds. Keeping in mind that bilingual children are a bit slower to speak, I was still getting a little worried when, at 20 months, her only recognizable words were "mama" and "papa". And even those words were hit and miss. Just within the last week or two, she has developed an 8-word vocabulary.

• Mama

• Papa (she does say "dada" pretty frequently, but as we've never referred to Mario as "daddy or "dada", I'm not counting it as anything.)

• baby. Until yesterday, this did not refer to a baby, at least not in Clara's mind. To Clara, "baby" means animal, any animal. Puppies, Chris's cats, the hornet in my parents' kitchen, illustrations of cows . . . they're all babies. Finally yesterday she did point to Baby Bill and call him "baby".

• no. Today she decided to prove that she is very, very good at "no". Funny how the baby books often mentioned that kids learn to say "no" right around the same time they learn how to walk. They were right on, in Clara's case.

• please. She still does the sign language, but now she'll often accompany it with a verbal, "pee".

• ball. It comes out as either "ba" or "be". Very consistent, though. I think it was her first word after mama and papa.

• yeah. I've heard her say it a few times in the last week, but "no" has solidly eclipsed anything positive.

• beer. Mario was enjoying one tonight and Clara was working really hard to get a sip. After quite awhile without success, she thought it would be good effect to string together, "Pee [accompanied with hand signal], bee." For real? Beer?!? You're out of control, Clara.

Lili--Make Sure Your Parents Watch This!

Warning: This post is just a glorified email for my family (particularly my father-in-law). Videos don't email well.

Clara has been making the goofiest sounds and sentences for a week or two now. But last night she strung a bunch of new syllables together and came up with abuelo! (grandpa) And then she repeated it over and over.

Of course, as soon as I whipped out the camera, her version of abuelo became less and less identifiable. But at the end of the video, I think she says it well again.

Being super-excited, I wanted to pass that on right away. For most of the video, it is me talking, trying to get her to repeat me. But she DOES say it! Really, she does!

I Want . . .

We got home at almost two o'clock after the ladies' Bible study at the Gringo Church (aka, Saltillo International Church). Everyone brought delicious cake, cookies, and egg dishes to share and this morning we just sat around forever and a half, chatting the morning away. So nice, as we haven't gotten together since school got out. Therefore, we left late. And then I got caught in the after-school traffic. Grrr . . . Someday I'll wise up.

Clara managed to get a 20 minute nap while stuck in traffic, and most Wednesdays, she thinks that's enough. I disagree. My plan to convince her to rest for an hour or more is to feed her, throw her in the tub/pool and then, to bed.

As soon as we walked in the door she got antsy. "Do you want to eat?"

Immediately, she put her finger to her nose to signal "please" (or yes, as the case may be).

I started scrambling an egg. (She's more of a lady than I am and didn't gorge herself on the cakes and cookies as I did.) When I turned on the burner to melt the butter for her egg, she got whiny all over again.

"Are you sleepy? Do you want to go to bed?"

Affirmative.

OK, what is it that she wants? Of course, at nearly two o'clock, she probably is both hungry and sleepy. But sometimes I catch her by asking her questions beginning with, "do you want . . . ?" and whatever it is that I ask her that she wants, she'll say, "Oh, yeah--that would be great!"

All her life, I've been a big believer that she understands what I'm saying. However, part of me wonders if she just hears the word "want" and thinks, "yep, I want".

And really, don't I do that, too? The power of suggestion is strong. Last night, Mario went to the grocery store by himself (oh, so dangerous), and as soon as I saw the bottle of Coke he brought home (knowing he was planning on making himself a cuba libre with it), I developed an overwhelming urge for a cuba myself. I never would have thought of that on my own. But oh, those little triggers.

Also, part of me is itching for something new. There are a number of stores for rent near us, a few that would be perfect for a bakery. Oh, how I want to run a bakery! Sometimes I think over the idea in my head until it seems like the most idyllic situation in the world. (Daydreams don't leave room for irritating realities.) Then, I sit back and think, "wait--I have a very small daughter, and I've always really wanted to be able to have the opportunity to stay home with her."

This opportunity is presenting itself now. Three years from now, when she's in school, is not the time for me to decide to stay home with her.

Like Clara, I want . . . I want. I apparently want any good idea that's presented to me.

But one thing at a time.

Go, Saraperos!

Mexico's national baseball championship is culminating this week (possibly tonight!) in the great city of Saltillo, as once again, Saltillo's Saraperos have proven to be one of the best two teams in the country.

Mexicans play baseball?

In Saltillo, yes they do. Baseball is bigger than soccer. (heaven forbid!) However, other Mexicans must play the game, as Saltillo's team is currently playing the team from Puebla and last year they trounced a team from Cancun. Yeah, did you catch that? My two favorite cities in Mexico are battling out baseball glories.

But, with a score of 20-1 in only the 5th inning, it seems that Saltillo has this game wrapped up.

And, beyond asking Mario various updates (as he also switches back and forth between this game and the Braves/Dodgers game), I'm not really paying that much attention. Baseball is not much fun to watch. Especially on TV.

But, while I'm finally on here, I'll throw in a small Clara update because the kid is finally WALKING! OK, she's really just cruising. She took two steps by herself in the pool on Saturday. Other than that, she insists on holding our hands or the furniture. We're doing our best to convince her that she really can walk while holding on to just one of our hands. Today, it seems that she's starting to buy that.

And Friday she finally realized that she can stand on her own without freaking out. Before that it was "OH NO! OH NO! I'M NOT HOLDING ONTO ANYTHING! I'M GOING TO FALL! GET ME NOOOOOOOWWWWW!" Now she's OK with being on her own as long as I do pick her up within 10 seconds. She'll get there. Slowly but surely seems to be her theme.

So that's the scoop with us.

Dude, seriously--won't they call the game at about the 7th inning if one team is 25 runs ahead of the other team, or is that just Little League? Because this is just sad.

I'm Engaged!

Yeah, I know you're thinking, "ummm . . . I thought you were married?"

True story.

But Mario proposed again last night. And I accepted.

A few weeks ago, my wedding ring fell out of the pocket of my pants. As my engagement ring nearly constantly accompanies my wedding ring, I checked my pockets to find it, so it wouldn't wind up lost on the bathroom floor. No luck. Where on earth was my engagement ring?

I spent my free moments in that week before I left for chilangolandia looking for the ring, without success. In a few instances, I thought, "what if Mario stole it to take it to a jewler and finally get the pearl replaced?"

Instead of a diamond, I had a pearl, but the pearl fell off when we visited the Monarch butterfly sanctuary in March of 2008, never to be found again.

Nah, Mario's not near romantic enough to do that. When he gave me the ring in the first place, instead of a thoughful, gushy speech which ended in "would you marry me?" Mario shoved the ring box at me and asked, "Do you still want this?"

Charming. Obviously, it would never cross Mario's mind to take my ring without my knowledge and replace the pearl. Let's be realistic and love the man you've got, Jill. Quirks included.

So I left for my month in Morelos, ring free. At least if I got mugged in Mexico City I wouldn't have to worry about them taking the rings.

Last night when we got home, Mario noticed my wedding ring on the dresser by itself, and asked, "so did you ever find your engagment ring?"

"No," I replied. "And I can't imagine where it would be either. After all, I never have it without the wedding ring . . . "

While I was saying this, Mario reached into the drawer in his bedside table, pulled out a ring box, pulled back the lid to reveal my ring with a new pearl, and asked, "Do you still want to marry me?"

Awww . . . of course I do!

Just shows that I still don't have him completely figured out. What a relief that is.

The Joys of Being Weightless

You know how cool it is to be able to stand on your tip-toes in the pool, like a ballerina? Well, Clara knows what I'm talking about.

While it's an impossibility outside of the water, the kid cruises around the pool. Apparently, she loves being free from the burden of her buns of steel (or concrete).

I do, too!

About to Get the Ax

For a solid year, I adored our pediatrician. He was Clara's favorite mustachioed man. He was there when Clara was born and the one person that I liked in the delivery room (Mario was not there). And I genuinely like the guy.

But as soon as Clara turned a year old, I've felt that his childrearing advice has turned shady.

When she was little he pounded home the message that I needed to nurse her. It's the best thing for her. "You're nursing her, right?"

"Yes, sir. This kid is getting nothing but booby." He always seemed a bit taken aback that I was actually following his advice.

When we came for her 12-month checkup he asked again, "You still nursing her?"

Very proudly, I answered, "You bet!"

"You need to stop now."

WHAT?!?

While I didn't initially have plans to keep nursing her past a year, it happened. And lots of childrearing books say that's just fine. Not our pediatrician, though. We just went back for her 15-month checkup (yeah, she's almost 17 months). He was much more adamant. I'm just blowing him off.

Furthermore, at the 12-month checkup, he was already concerned that Clara wasn't walking. I assured him that she would most likely not walk for quite some time, given our family history. Despite the fact that babies that walk at 12-months are early walkers, he was convinced that she needed to be walking into her next doctor's appointment.

Obviously that didn't happen. And if it doesn't happen for another two months, she's still well within the range of normal. Not according to the doctor. Seriously--do I know more about child development than my pediatrician?!?

Final straw: Clara weighed in at 9 kilos exactly. (I'm quite sure she was a good 300 grams heavier when she got vaccinated the last time, but the IMSS scale tends to run heavier than the doctor's scale . . . now I'm convinced that his scale is miscalibrated.) Anyway, being nearly 17 months old and weighing only 9 kilos officially places her off the standard height/weight curve chart. Keep in mind, she has been hovering around the 10th percentile her entire life, so falling off the curve doesn't take much doing. The doctor was very, very grave about this.

He prescribed her medicine to increase her appetite. Mario and I would rather give her as little medicine as possible, so a regimen of appetite inducers three times a day sounded like a terrible idea. Like a good Mexican (or Hobbit), I am now introducing "second breakfast" (or almuerzo) to her eating schedule. I'm betting that this will put her solidly back onto that 10th percentile.

Appetite inducers . . . por favor. Let's be reasonable, doctor.

Having blown off all our doctor's advice, we basically just went to get her weighed and measured. We can do that at the IMSS. For free. One more visit full of crummy advice and we'll may just start making our taxes work for us.

And that could turn out to be the second time that I've preferred treatment from the IMSS than from a private doctor.

Go figure.

For My Folks

It's that time of year again--time to clean off the memory card! This means that it's time to post videos of my daughter for all who might care to see how marvelous, precious, talented, and big she's getting (among other things . . . whiny fits, too, but I don't document that).

The first is of Clara climbing the step out of her room. The second is her stacking blocks. I'm super impressed by how tall she gets them. The third is her talking on her "phone". Notice how she hangs it up at the end. Sorry that the second two are sideways.

Where's Your Please?

I had always thought that infant sign language was a bit goofy.

Then I had a daughter that thought it was cool to bang her hand on the tray of her highchair to demand more of anything.

Maybe baby sign language isn't that goofy after all.

However, the week I began to teach her how to say please (touching your hand to your chin, and then lowering that hand slightly) must have also been the week that I tried to get her to show me where her nose is. Therefore, Clara says please like this:



OK, so nobody besides Mario or myself will know what she's indicating. However, she is consistent, so it's clearly cemented into her head as the way to ask nicely for something.

And mercifully, it's cut down on the table-smacking.

Finding Friends in the Most Curious Places

And here I am again . . . wasting far too much time on the internet. But, if you're reading this, you are also probably wasting far too much time on the internet. So at least we're in good company.

For well over a year now, since I formed my pathological facebook addiction, I've asked myself what facebook (among other internet toys) is doing to the way we communicate. I think it's wonderful to be reconnected with real friends I would have otherwise never heard from again. I also think it's pretty entertaining to be connected with people I went to high school with--many of whom I know better now, thanks to facebook, than I ever did when we were forced to interact daily over the course of 10 years' worth of formal education. Now, thanks for groups and discussion boards, I'm finding that some of my most meaningful conversations take place with people that I've never actually met. (Keep in mind, I do spend the lion's share of my day alone with a pre-verbal little girl. It's great, but meaningful conversations do not abound.)

Then, to cement my internet addiction, I began a blog. I wanted to use it as a kind of letter to friends and family to let them know what was going on in our lives and my impressions of Mexico (as most people I know will never get the chance to visit me here). Sometimes I wake up in the middle of the night, thinking, "Ooo--I'll have to blog about THAT!" My apologies if you've read my poem about chilaquiles.

Then, I stumbled upon blogs from other gringas living in Mexico. Oh, dear heavens--my universe expanded exponentially. My husband will soon be sending me to Internet Anonymous. (Keeping this in mind, I do try to limit my internet hours to the time when Clara is napping or those nights when Mario decides to go to bed at 9:30. I am determined that I will NOT be one of those people who list facebook as a reason why their marriage failed.)

But really, how would I be getting along if I didn't have this monster in my living room? It makes me think of my professor, who moved to Mexico in the 1950s, when even long-distance phone calls were an inconceivable luxury. How on earth did she do it? I'm so grateful that I can keep connected to my family and friends, but if I were connected a little bit less to the US, would I be better connected in my neighborhood here?

That's a question that really doesn't have an answer, as I'm not giving up the internet any time soon. [My mother just heaved a sigh of relief.]

Furthermore, two of the few friends I have in this town are thanks to my amazing stalking abilities--blog-stalking and facebook profiling. (Yes, I'm shameless.) Without this wonderful tool, I'd be stuck thinking that I was the only gringa that had tried living in Mexico and navigating its frustrating waters. Now I know, that's so not the case.

So, to all my new blogger buddies--thanks. I love hearing your stories and just knowing that you're out there. To Sheila and Missy--thanks for not being weirded out by me. I am that much saner by having real friends I can see in person.

To all those family and friends in the US--I miss you! But I'm so grateful that we're not complete strangers for those first few awkward days I come back to visit.

Que viva el internet!

Big Day

Mario's cousin, Paty just moved to Saltillo and will be living with us for a few weeks while she finds her own place. Yesterday, being her first day at work, I was the one to help her get there (as Mario has no idea where any of the buses here go . . . that and the fact that he leaves the house at 6am daily).

Paty manages the Globo bakery's newest locale in Saltillo, a cute little kiosk in the mall. On our way, we stopped at the established Globo store, picked up some supplies, and headed to the mall to scope out her new situation and meet one of her coworkers. While we waited for her sidekick, we dusted off the shelves, and stashed trays, powdered creamers, and bags anywhere they would fit. Clara got a kick out of sitting on the counters and playing with an easily accessible padlock, and then she really enjoyed the easy-open drawers once we sat her on the floor.

As two o'clock rolled around, Clara started to get antsy and seriously in need of a nap. I strapped her into her baby carrier for a brisk stroll around the mall, which calmed her down. Before she could nod off, we cruised back into Liverpool (a department store), so the shock of the air conditioning wouldn't wake her up, if she were to fall asleep outside. After perusing the rest of the mall, we checked in on Paty. Her coworker had arrived (was delayed due to a visit to social security . . . we understood), so we left her to keep cleaning and headed to the bank with a sleeping Clara.

Banking completed, we realized that it was going on 3:30 and we were getting hungry. Paty finished up with her partner at the isla (isn't that a much nicer word than "kiosk"?), and we collapsed in the food court with platefuls of sushi (and a cup of cheesy corn for Clara). Before going home, we had one last stop at the big Globo, and then, loaded up with bread (I love living with Paty), we headed home.

However, those Ramos Arizpe buses would not stop for us. Four buses flew past us at two different bus stops. At the first stop, they'd barrel past us and stop half a block away. Nice. Then we waited at that stop a half a block away, and they stopped where we had been standing. Seriously? I have NEVER been able to get on one of those buses going back into town. What does it take? I hope Paty has better luck today, or she may be forced to use a taxi. However, since we were catching the bus at the big Globo store, we finally just took a Route 5. They always stop. Thank you, Route 5.

We left the house at 11am and got back a 6:10. I haven't had such a long day since maybe October 2008. Clara slows me down a bit. Thank goodness. But she was a trooper.

Right now she's taking a 2+ hour nap, to make up for the 20 minute nap from yesterday.

Excellent.

And if anyone is heading out to Galerias Saltillo, say hi to Paty in the Globo kiosk!

To Walker, Or Not To Walker?

Given that information in every single baby-raising book that I've read STRONGLY discourages the use of baby walkers, I was under the impression that the walker industry has gone under in the last decade, and that's impossible to buy one.

Perhaps impossible in the US, but in Mexico the walker trade is still going strong. While very pregnant, I began to brave the baby aisles in stores and was shocked to see the plethora of walkers on display. No excer-saucers to be found, but Mexicans seem to love the idea of strapping wheels onto their babies. Panicked, as we were making some major baby-gear purchases at Liverpool, I pointed out their walker display and asked Mario if he'd ever be tempted to get one. Much to my relief, he emphatically replied that the car seat, stroller, and crib were the only "toys" he would ever buy for the child. So no, no walkers for Clara.

Fast forward fifteen months, and everyone we know is getting concerned that Clara is not walking yet. I proudly correct them, "she's not even standing!" I didn't walk until I was 20 months, and Mario didn't walk until 18 months. I think my brother also waited until 18 months and I believe that both my parents were late walkers as well. Therefore, I am not concerned that Clara has no desire to get off her butt. The doctor said that he would be very concerned at her next appointment (due any day), if she weren't walking, despite this family history. All my little, old neighbor ladies who meet for Bible study are all concerned. "How does she do in her walker?"

"We don't have a walker."

Not have a walker! Well, of course the kid isn't walking yet! (This, despite the fact that walkers teach neither balance or strength, and also lessen the child's motivation to get around on her own, as she can do it just fine with the help of her mechanical apparatus.)

Two days ago, I got a call from one of my neighbor ladies. "I was just cleaning out my closets and I found our old walker. Would you want it?"

"Aw . . . thank you! But no."

"Are you sure?"

"Really. We don't want it."

Except Panchita just went on and on (and she's a little hard to understand over the phone anyway), so I just made my life easier and accepted to borrow her walker.

It's now sitting in our living room.

It's waiting to be hidden away in Clara's closet, except, despite my firm anti-walker stance, I'm torn. Because I love having Clara try out new toys. But I'd hate for her to get addicted to this one.

What to do?

I think it will be going in the closet soon, just to take away the temptation. But if anyone has any insights, pro or con, do let me know.

On a related note, below are videos of Clara scooting around on her "car" that my parents got her for Christmas (in April). With such a toy, she really doesn't need a walker, does she? Even more unrelated, do you know what those videos remind me of? The scene in Harry Potter #7, where baby Harry was flying his toy broomstick with his dad chasing behind him. *sigh* Good times.

Yes, I am a tad obsessed.

She's So Creepy!

When we were in Indiana last week, my parents really, really wanted to be able to proclaim that Clara can finally crawl. So they did. Except, when she's not able to get her belly off the floor, isn't that still considered creeping? So yes, I have a really creepy kid.

Finally, at the age of 15 months, she can sit herself up on her own, go forward and backwards and scoot around to any direction. She can get where she wants to go. Just very slowly.

The other day I had a mountain of dishes to do, and Clara was furious that I would do something besides sit and gaze at her while she plays. While I washed, she let out bloodcurdling shrieks, causing anyone passing in front of our house to glance over and wonder what that gringa was doing with that sweet, little baby. After awhile, it dawned on her that if I would not go to her, she could go to me. As the tears and snot flowed, she painstakingly made her way from just beyond the kitchen door to my feet at the kitchen sink (a marathon of maybe 6 feet). Having put that much effort to get my attention, and having nearly filled the drying rack, I picked her up. Suddenly, all was right in the world again.

Therefore, despite the inability to "toddle", she's clearly turning into a toddler. Oh, joy. Now, I do think toddlerhood is one of the best ages ever. But I've never had to live with one before. We'll see how it goes, but overall, I am looking forward to it.










Photos are of Clara creeping yesterday, playing with her friend Katya yesterday, and checking out the frog fountain in the Alameda this morning (it was turned on for the first time since I've lived here! I was so excited--Clara was merely bemused).

Whee--Jilly Kart!

Clara and I are in Indiana for the rest of the month. We're both making discoveries that broaden our worlds (or something). On Saturday, Clara discovered my friend's cat. Dirks the Cat is now Clara's new favorite "person". Whenever he walked into the room, she giggled and giggled and squirmed around, trying to get closer to the cat. Fortunately, Dirks is very patient and still enough of a kitten to be pretty curious about Clara, too. Until now she's never found anything interesting enough to incite her to get off her butt. We may just have to get a cat ourselves. (nah)

As a completely unrelated observation, the Wii game system has hit Ft. Wayne with a vengenance, and it seems to me that everyone I know has one. At first, I wasn't real excited, because I've always hated video games and never expected that to change.

Then I played Mario Kart of the Wii.

Hoo, boy--do I like video games! On Saturday night, my friend and I were playing umpteen rounds of Mario Kart. As I was driving home on the highway, I passed over a large black spot of oil and thought to myself, "do I get a power boost for that?"

Yeah, I think I'd had enough Mario Kart for one day.

To be fair, it was midnight. But, for those of you who drive in Ft. Wayne this week and next, if you come across a red Saturn Vue in your daily commute, it may be prudent to keep your distance. I'm normally a good driver.

But it may be possible that I have again overdosed on Mario Kart.

Milestones aren't just for the baby, baby!

I hate driving. I always have. Driving around town in high school nearly always flooded me waves of panic, fearing that I'd do something wrong, piss someone off, or just get into an accident. Oh, the stress!

Eventually, I did get over that. But I never enjoyed driving.

Upon moving to Mexico, I was really excited about the thought of living somewhere that has a reliable, cheap, and fairly efficient public transportation system. Wherever I have lived in Mexico, I have taken full advantage of the buses, combis, and taxis and gloried in the fact that I had absolutely no need to maneuver a car in the midst of Mexico's freakish traffic.

However, Saltillo's traffic follows fairly standard rules. Turning left from the right lane is actually discouraged here and the traffic police here really do have some clout. For example, taxi drivers insist that passengers in the front seat buckle up because they know that otherwise they'll get fined. Again, I was shocked and charmed by the level of civilization here.

This also means that I ran out of excuses for why I could procrastinate my mastery of the standard transmission vehicle that Mario owns. Reason #2: the heavier that Clara gets the less fun it is to strap her to my back while we ride the bus. Reason #3: while I'm beginning to find friends, they all live on the OTHER side of town. Boo.

So after months (OK, years) of touch-and-go "how to drive a standard transmission car" lessons, I finally traversed town by myself, with Clara shouting encouragement from the backseat, a few days ago. I feel like a real grown-up again.

Despite the fact that I'm back to the whole knotted-stomach, driving-induced stress that I experienced in high school, I know I can do it. The stress will pass eventually.

This made me think of Clara and her "quest" for increased mobility. I put quest in quotation marks, as she has made it clear that creeping and rolling around on the floor is as mobile as she wants to be, thank you very much. Quite like me and my satisfaction with the buses and taxis. It doesn't matter that she is over a year old and most other kids her age are at least experimenting with walking. I was over the age of thirty and had no desire to drive a car, like a "normal" adult.

Like me, she just needs some real incentive coming from deep within to make it worth all the effort of getting her legs under herself. She almost had it this morning when she really, really wanted a cup that was on top of the coffee table. But, like me driving the car, it will just take a lot of practice to get it.

She'll get there.

The Torquelich

My parents were just asking if I had any new photos of Clara. Nope. We haven't done much that's interesting recently, and all the pictures that I get of her playing look the same, because she generally does the same thing all the time. She's really hooked on the Container Game. She finds something that fits well into a container and then takes it out. Puts it in, takes it out. Ad nauseum. I made this even more exciting for her the other day when I gave her an old baby bottle, some diaper pins, and the sticks for her bottle-dryer. Hoo-nelly! What fun! She plays with these for about a half hour at a stretch. The bottle is particularly challenging as she can't jam her chubby little fist inside to get the pins back out. While she's figuring out physics, I get the dishes washed. Oh, boy.

However, I did take this video recently. Enjoy!

For those of you from camp, do you remember the Torquelich skit? I love that Clara makes the same noise that the Torquelich makes when it's hungry. And she came up with that all on her own. Isn't she so smart?

And if anyone knows how to turn these videos vertically, please fill me in (they're opened with Windows Photo Gallery).

She's Getting Bigger and Better

In typical Clara fashion, last week she reached a major movement milestone (sitting up on her own) and then promptly forgot about it. Or just doesn't care. Except that she really likes to sit up, so I'm thinking that she just can't remember how it was that she got herself up to a sitting position last week. Two months from now, she'll no doubt remember, once again giving me hope that she just may become mobile.

Now that she's gotten really good at getting a loaded spoon to her mouth, I thought I'd see what she would do with a full banana.

It took awhile, but she figured it out!

This evening she also asked for a napkin so she could wipe her mouth off. What a little lady!

That, or she just really likes playing with napkins.

Hoarding the Videos

I realize that nearly all my posts lately have been about the girlie. However, it's cold and rainy outside, so we're not getting out much, and therefore about the only source of inspiration I've got!

I've been meaning to post these videos for awhile now, as I know my parents will enjoy seeing them. And if anyone else wants to join them in this shameless Clara-fest, be my guest!

I apologize that the first two are sideways. If anyone can help me straighten them out, using QuickTime or Windows Picture Manager, I'd appreciate it. These were taken maybe a month or two ago.

The last two videos were taken in August, when Clara was really into making monster noises. The makes better noises on the first video, but we didn't have the lights on in the room. So the first video is audio, the second is visual (because I guess she got tired of being a monster five seconds into that video).

Happy Valentine's Day!

Most holidays in the Rodriguez Douglas household don't get the attention that other families give to special days. For example, last Easter, the only means by which we celebrated Easter was to go to mass (much like all the other 51 Sundays in the year). However, that was the only Sunday Clara cried through mass and had to be escorted out. Besides me baking a lemon merangue pie, it was just another Sunday. Had Mario's parents not visited us for Christmas, I have a feeling that Christmas would have come and gone in much the same manner. Rather sad. But Mario just doesn't seem to get excited about holidays and the dates tend to creep up on me and catch me unawares, leaving me completely unprepared to celebrate anything.

So I had no expectations for Valentine's Day. When we were dating, we used to count Valentine's Day as our anniversary, because we knew that we began dating sometime between the end of January and the end of February. Every once in awhile, Mario even went out of his way to make the day special, giving me flowers in 2003, wine and chocolate in 2007.

This year, after trying to fix the shower all day on Saturday, Mario was faced with three months' worth of receipts to enter into the computer for his personal accounting. I knew it would take all day, so did not have any plans to do anything special. However, on Friday he had mentioned that it had been awhile since he cooked and he kind of missed it. To which I responded, "hey--knock yourself out!" I requested pork chops, as the man makes magic with pork chops. As 4pm rolled around, Mario was still in front of the computer, knee-high in receipts, denying being the least big hungry, and announcing that he would not be able to cook after all. Given the amount of work he did all weekend, I completely understood. As Clara and I attacked a liter of yogurt, Mario was apparently doing to reconsidering and decided that he would be able to cook after all, as long as I could wait until 5. No problem.

I poked my head in the kitchen a bit after 5 and noticed that he had buttered and basiled some of the sourdough bread, which was toasting in the oven. A pot of macaroni was on the stove for a first course, and he was preparing the chops as he ordered me out, claiming that the meal was to be special.

So, in the end, we broke Rodriguez Douglas tradition and celebrated Valentine's Day after all with a lovely, delicious, candelit dinner, a bottle of Casa Madero's Merlot (a winner), and dessert of chocolates that we had been hoarding since Christmas. Clara, reinforcing the idea that she is just a little woman, LOVED the chocolate.

Things are rather slow this week, with Clara fighting a cold. However, there is an upside to having the constant stream of snot wiped all over her face--she's taking two-hour naps! I might have expose her to more children and their germs. It's not all bad.

Since she's zonked out and I can't play with her, here's a list of some of the Clara's more recent accomplishments or other ways she keeps herself entertained.

• She has discovered how to insert her index finger into her nostril. No real surprise that Jill is raising a nose-picker. Fortunately, she has not yet realized how to get anything out. Thank goodness I keep her fingernails short.
  

• She has decided that every 2-liter bottle or empty gallon of milk is her toy, whether she actually plays with them or not. I found this out the hard way last week as I was taking out the trash. Clara was happily playing on her blanket with her stuffed animals and measuring cups when, scavenging around the kitchen for more trash to throw out, I callously squashed an empty plastic quart of milk. Immediately, broken-hearted cries issued from the adjoining living room, making it clear that I was throwing away a most treasured companion. I had no idea.
  

I now squash plastic bottles in the dark of the night.

• She is trying really hard to sit up on her own. That is, she tries really hard whenever she feels like it, and two days can pass before she remembers that it might just be useful to be able to push herself up to a sitting position when she gets tired of laying down. So most of the time whenever she falls over, she's content to just roll around on the floor. No doubt she already knows that if she happily rolls around for long enough and then protests, I'll come and rescue her. However, whenever I do offer my hand as an anchor, she can pull herself up the rest of the way. Unfortunately though, that's probably not really helping her figure out how to do it on her own. She'll get there. And I really do try not to interfere.
  

• A spoon loaded with food and propelled by the girlie now makes it into her mouth! This is brand-new as of this week. I still load up the spoon for her, but now that she's having some success maybe next week I'll see what she does if I put a bowl of oatmeal in front of her. Then again, maybe I'll wait until it gets warmer, so we can eat outside and I can hose her off afterward.
  

• And, despite the very cool set of plastic pots and pans that Mario's mom gave her for her birthday (and are a hit), her favorite toys are still the box of baby wipes, the box of eyedrops, and the nail clippers. Really, why is there such a market out there for infant/toddler toys? Despite the amazing selection of "real" toys laying around our house, she still prefers those everyday, useful little tools. No surprise. However, those which pose an element of danger are exceptionally appealing.
  

Thank goodness she can't get around on her own yet.

Happy Birthday, Clara!

Today we celebrated one year that Clara has been making her mark on the world. Being a weekday, we couldn't do anything super-special (Mario had to work, of course). However, I invited my friend Sheila and her daughter to spend the day with us.

After the girls had breakfast, we walked to the playground in the Alameda. For the first time in weeks, Clara's swing was free (the only piece of play equipment she is able to enjoy). We hung out by the swings, watching Katya and Sheila try out all the other stairs and slides.

Clara was just about finished with the swing when a class of second-graders came to the park for recess. They started flirting with us from a distance with shouts of "Hello!" "Hello!" What's you name?" "Hello!" A few kids got a big more adventurous and asked a number of questions, especially about Clara. Once they found out it was her first birthday, they got really excited and sang her both "Las Mananitas" and the Happy Birthday song. After that, they got really friendly and Clara decided she was a bit overwhelmed. I thought it was pretty cute.

On the way home, both girls zonked out and continued to sleep for an hour once we were home. Awesome. When they woke up, we had macaroni and cheese for lunch (Clara's new favorite) and then we went to the patio to play until both Katya's and Clara's dads came home.

Once Mario came home, we sang her Happy Birthday again, I tried to teach her how to blow out a candle (but she didn't catch on at all), and we attacked the cherry cake. Despite all the sugar, she was more than ready for bed and out by 7:30.

But before she crashed, she did want to share with her admirers her thoughts on the significance of being able to count her age in years, instead of just weeks for months.

Animal, Vegetable, Miracle

For those of you who haven't read Animal, Vegetable, Miracle by Barbara Kingsolver, I highly recommend it. For years I've become increasingly aware that one of the most effective ways to improve the economy and live in an eco-friendly lifestyle is to shop locally. Ms. Kingsolver candidly brings this point home via a plethora of personal stories, often uproariously funny and seldom preachy (although just by picking up the book, the reader shows a bit of interest for the topic). Recently, I lent the book to a friend here in Saltillo,which prompted the question: how does one be a "locavore" in Mexico, particularly in the middle of the deserts of the north?

While we may not have the farmers' markets found in the US (and the produce in traditional Mexican markets is 95% of the time NOT local), we've got a number of options open to us. My favorite is the fact that small, locally owned businesses are not dead yet. Mexico's family-owned stores are now facing the fight that their US counterparts lost a decade or two ago.

Beyond the obvious convenience of the big supermarkets, Mexico's supermarkets have the additional incentive of the vale. I call it Magic Money. It's an additional benefit that most large employers offer their employees. Essentially, vales are tax-exempt "gift certificates" to be used specifically at a large number of large stores, which comes in handy for grocery shopping. I put gift certificates in quotes because the money is part of the employee's salary. However, once designated to the vale account, that money is tax-free. Hence the incentive to use this program.

Unfortunately, by using these vales, we bypass the locally-owned stores.

When I worked at the American School, my vales could only be used in any of the 8 chains owned by Wal-Mart. This was at the height of my hatred toward Wal-Mart, and it infuriated me to no end that a part of my salary (albeit a small part) went straight toward stuffing Wal-Mart's already super-sized pockets. In an attempt to bring some good out of the evil empire, I saved up my vales and used them on the kids at NPH.

It also helped that I didn't have many groceries to buy in that stage of my life.

Now that we're a family of three (and in his days of a bachelor, Mario never had to excersize restraint with his vales), we run through Mario's vales in just two weeks. This forces us to decide on that which is worthwhile to buy at the grocery store and what money is better spent strengthening our local economy.

For instance, we have a butcher across the street. His meat tastes just as good, if not better, than Wal-Mart or Soriana's. It's also roughly the same price, if not cheaper. Furthermore, being a small business, he is likely to buy his meat from local ranches than from the large feedlots that Soriana uses. (Keep in mind, I haven't asked him about this. However, it is more likely. After all, Mario's uncle who has a successful small ranch only sells his meat to local butchers.) So one more guilt-free purchase!

I also noticed the other day that our butcher sells cheese. I got the guts to ask for a ball of it (either asadero or ranchero, neither of which I had tried before). Both kinds are AMAZING--so much better than the cheeses from the major brands. And as the butcher's cheese comes label-free, I'm fairly confident that it's made locally. Although again, I have not yet asked him.

While I know that our vegetables come from the ends of the earth, I am making more of an effort to buy them in the market in the centro, instead of at Soriana. After all, Soriana doesn't really care if I shop there or not, but my veggie man does visibly appreciate the fact that I purchase my fruit from him.

And, lest I forget, our wine comes from Casa Madero--just two hours away in Parras. Mmm . . .

Thanks for sticking with me while I stood on this soapbox for longer than I planned. Does anyone else have any more good ideas for incorporating more local selections into their purchasing habits?

She Thinks She's a Jedi

Clara thinks she has Jedi powers. Half the time, when she sees something she wants that's beyond her reach, instead of scooting herself over to get that object of her desires she simply stretches out her arm with all her might, willing that the Force will do the rest of the work and bring it to her.

So far she's been unsuccessful.


She also discovered a new favorite food this week: macaroni and cheese. It was homeade and baked in the oven and oh, so wonderful. However, as Clara thought this was the best thing that has ever found its way into her mouth, she has eaten the lion's share of the pan. Next time (for her birthday) I'll be making a double batch.