Tag Archives: Adoration

Baby’s Reach Exceeds His Grasp

It’s a huge day in baby’s life.

On the day the little dude figures out just what — exactly — the wriggly things on the ends of his hands are for, it marks a major turning point in his relationship with his parents.

Whereas, before the epiphany, mom, dad and little dudette were living in a state of blissful harmony, marked by glances full of love and adoration, it’s a whole different ball of goop after.

Before, you could put the little dude in a high chair next to a table and

Babies tend to grab stuff as much as possible once they realize they actually can have an effect on the outside world.
Gimme!

have him sit there blissfully playing with whatever happened to be in front of him. Which let Mom and Dad eat relatively leisurely and without much incident.

And then the little dudette gains the smallest extra bit of self awareness and realizes that she can cause change in the environment around herself. And she can do it with her hands because they — holds up hands in front of wide eyes and wriggles fingers back and forth like a stoner realizing for the first that the four fingers are like a highway and the thumb is a little off ramp and whoa! Dude! doesn’t that just blow your mind?  — allow her to grab stuff.

Even better, those two hands and ten fingers allow her to grab stuff and then throw it anywhere. Or knock stuff over. Or, best of all, grab stuff, use that stuff to throw and knock over more stuff and watch Mommy and Daddy freak out, jump up and start talking funny and blotting at their clothing with napkins.

And here’s the thing. Even when new parents accustom themselves to the idea that their little dude can now grab stuff, it still takes a while before the really understand that he can lean farther than they think and knock over stuff a really big distance away.

It happened to me. When Sarcasmo was a young ‘un, maybe a year or so, his grandmother, Kaki (who was my mom) went away for a week or so. This was during the time he discovered the wriggly things and grabbing stuff.

Kaki asked to hold Sarcasmo while we were out to eat for a friendly lunch at a Gainesville diner. I warned her about his newfound propensity for grabbing stuff. She glared at me, silently reassuring me that she managed to raise me and my sister and she knew what she was doing thank you very much you young know-it-all. Mom had very expressive eyes.

What Kaki had forgotten was that reflexes, if not used, will sometimes decay. She stood Sarcasmo up in her lap, facing the table, and having fun.

He managed to get a salt shaker and mostly full glass of Diet Coke before I could get him free from Kaki’s lap and into his car seat, which we were using as a high chair. Kaki insisted on having Sarcasmo sit next to her.

He managed to get the refilled Diet Coke and a very mean look from the waitress who had to clean it up. Again.

Even experienced parents can misjudge the reach of a newly grabby little dude. Much less those new parents who have no experience to fall back on in their panic.

And this is before we bring in poisons and cleaning supplies and the like into the equation.

All is not lost, though.

To combat a little dude’s propensity for grabbing stuff, you only need to remove from his immediately surrounding environment anything that you could grab with your arms. And lock up all cabinets with the most parent-annoying security system imaginable, and then use them.

No worries.*

Footnotes & Errata

* That was a lie. There are a lot of worries. It’s not until you get to your third or so kid that you stop worrying and begin to think you know it all. Of course, that’s when everyone around you begins to panic because they just don’t understand that a toddler juggling razor-sharp knives while riding a kiddie unicycle is just little dudes being little dudes.

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Veteran’s Day 2013

Say thanks to a veteran today, dudes.

They deserve it.

At this point in time in America, we have an all-volunteer armed forces. Which means, that if you don’t want to join the Army or the Navy, or the Air Force or the Marines, you don’t have to do it.

So all those men and women serving overseas, fighting in at least three different conflicts (no matter how our feelings on the idiot who started said conflicts) deserve our thanks.

Not deification. Not adoration. Thanks.

They have accepted the opportunity given them by our country and its leaders and they are taking on a dangerous job. And we appreciate it.

And, if you want to feel like you’re not part of the herd, wait a day or so and then say thanks. It really doesn’t matter when you do it, but let our men and women in the armed forces know we appreciate the job they are being paid to do.

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A Rounded Canvas

by Richard

There I was, getting all hot and bothered, feeling the steam pouring out my ears. I was mad. I was getting ready to come on here and start blasting a certain social networking site over its infantile and untenable policy of banning pictures of women who are breastfeeding their children, or even pregnant women who’ve had body paint applied.

I had some good stuff, too.

But I got sidetracked. (I know. Imagine that. Me sidetracked. Tangential? What’s that?) I got sidetracked doing some research for the piece. (Again. I know. Who would have ever thought I was the sort of dude to do research? Well, let me tell you something, dude, I do a lot of research. I research a ton of stuff, as long as it will keep me from doing the work I’m supposed to be doing.)

What happened was that I went to a site of a person who does body painting for pregnant females who want to capture a unique look into a very special time in their lives. And it was magnificent.

This, dudes, is art. I don’t care it’s stuff drawn on a nekkid woman. I’m telling you, it’s art on par with most anything hanging in your local museum, and the fact that the canvas is the skin of a pregnant woman only makes it more amazing. The photographs and the paintings are by artist/photographer Vanessa Wayne in the UK. She’s amazingly good. I mean, take a look.

See? There’s the image of a baby giraffe nuzzling his/her mother and it’s on the distended, pregnant belly of a woman who’s also holding inside her a brand-new life. That’s art.

Of course, Ms. Wayne also offers some pictures with an amazing sense of fun. And even some pictures that are perfectly timed for various holidays.

With Ma in her kerchief and I in my cap. . .
Not sure this would make it through sleeping the night before, but it's a fun Christmas memory.

Not sure I’d recommend that every pregnant couple do this sort of thing, but I think you all might like to at least consider it. One of my absolute favorite pictures of my wife, known to me as She Who Must Be Given Preferential Screening At Airports (Don’t Ask), is the one she took while many months pregnant.

It’s a glorious shot. Her long auburn hair cascades down over her shoulder, leading the eye over her rounded belly. Her eyes gaze in adoration at the baby-to-be locked within. The sense of love and connectedness is palpable. It’s a picture and memory I’ll always treasure. If only we’d heard of this body painting stuff back then.

Of course, I probably would have spoiled it by trying to have her put a cartoon character or something like that on her belly.

This, dudes, is art. So why won’t that certain social networking site, the name of which I can’t mention, (Don’t ask. It’s boring.)  put this sort of stuff up on it’s pages? Darn good question.

 

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