The oral fixation stage apparently begins around the time you discover your thumb. We're not quite sure when it ends, but I think it's safe to say that we have not yet reached that point.

We've also discovered that while you're a very good traveler, your alertness does have its downsides - you get cranky when you have to be in the car for too long. We discovered this when you came along with us to drop our friend Steve off at the airport in July. Since that put us halfway there, we thought we'd go visit the nearest IKEA and take a look around. It was late afternoon/early evening, and since the car invariably puts you to sleep, it was only natural to think that if we were gentle, we could transfer you out of the car, into your stroller, then look around the store while you snoozed away.

Well, you had other ideas. And we were severely chastised for it later on by one of Mommy's co-workers for thinking you're still a newborn and will just sleep wherever we go. You chastised us as well, in your own special way. The bright lights, colors, music, people, and OODLES of low-priced merchandise were just too much for you to ignore, so of course your eyes were as wide open as they could possibly be. I'm sure it was good for your development to be taking in such an experience, but your sleeping pattern? Not so good. We did manage to jot down some things to come back and get later, but the car ride home was a pretty miserable experience. So now we're learning to travel when it's nap time or when it's bedtime. That enabled us to get you up to Maine and down to New Jersey with a minimum of crank from the back seat. You really enjoyed the Maine coast, especially from the luxurious comfort of Mommy's chest.

In August, we had our first major episode of a stomach bug, which basically turned you into a tube with a mouth at one end and no control at the other. Fortunately, you're a good little drinker, and despite getting severely dehydrated and having to miss a wedding, you downed enough Pedialyte in a four-hour span to float the Spanish Armada. After a visit from Glen the Wonder-Nurse, aka the Baby Whisperer, you were released into our care once more. We did make it to the wedding the next weekend (see previous entry) and you got some good Lola time in while Mommy and Daddy gambled away part of your college fund. Sorry, kid, but you're gonna have to apply for some scholarships.

And then it was our turn to do the changing: the big move! We moved from a 1.5-bedroom place to a 5-bedroom place - now you actually get a closet! And room for toys! And surface area to actually do stuff in! The best part is that you'll be able to share things with so many more friends; the new neighbors love you to death already. And who can resist such furrowed-brow concentration face when you chase Cheerios around your tray? You'll notice that we made them into C's just for you.

Mm, tasty solid food that's actually solid! You started with Cheerios for a few days, and now you're scarfing down bananas, peaches, apples, cantaloupes, waffles, toast, little puff crackers, and even taking sips from your cup. Ever since we started giving you stuff you could pick up, the spoon holds little to no interest for you, except as a toy. No more feeding the Bean, she's feeding herself now!

We did get to make a few more outings before the neighbors moved in - first, and most important, your first trip to Fenway Park. Gram told Mommy the first time they met that she'd have to convert from a Yankees fan to a Red Sox fan if she wanted to be a part of the family. Well, you have no choice - you're already a part of the family, so let the indoctrination begin. We did make one concession and left after eight innings (down 1-0, no less) but apparently just enough magic baby dust was left over to fuel a 9th-inning comeback and help the team win 2-1. Many thanks to Mr. D for the tickets - they were super-close to the field and were roomy enough that taking you was a breeze. It would have been much tighter quarters in our normal seats.

Then it was off to New Jersey to see your Tito Vic and your cousins. The weather was beautiful and we got to spend some good time outdoors. Drew and Gabby just loved seeing you even though they'd just gotten off a plane from South Carolina. Such good cousins!

Your last trip of the summer was back to Maine. You joined Daddy for a game against the top-rated active Scrabble player in the world (uncle Joey!)...

...and helped him win! You also had some more good outdoor time in the backyard.

Now you're officially nine months old. Which means you've spent as much time out of Mommy as you have inside her. I hope we've made the outside just as comfortable - and much more interesting - than the inside. Things would be a little cramped right now, what with your 29 inches of length and almost 20 pounds of weight. I think Mommy may have had to go on the moving truck if that were the case.

We went and saw the doctor today, which is how I know your measurements so exactly. She said you're growing great, your thrush is gone (more fun with medications), you're babbling up a storm, you can sit up and move around on your own (no crawling yet, though you're awfully close - you can scoot on your butt and do a sorta army wriggle). Heck, you even get up on all fours in your sleep...

Happy nine-month birthday...we made an appointment today for the real thing, twelve months. Wow. Feeling old yet?

This is us about a month and a half ago, just after buying some tasty, tasty rice cereal for you. I'm not entirely sure why we decided to start you on quote-unquote "solid" foods in the great state of New Jersey, but then again, why the heck not? Initial reactions were mixed, but given that there was no spinning head/projectile vomit, we'll take it! We value lack of demonic possession highly among our offspring. You've also managed to enjoy peas:

Sweet potatoes:

And many other delicious mixtures. You're not quite ready for the finer things in life yet, though...baby steps. Baby steps.

So far you've liked just about everything except for carrots. Your teachers say it's because they are slightly bitter (not sure I taste it) but I think it's because you realize early on that Mommy and Daddy's eyesight is so horrendously bad that you might as well give up on ever seeing anything without the aid of powerful, powerful lenses, and why bother eating something that might improve your vision?

Not that that's stopped you from going directly for the lenses. You've gotten great at grabbing things; for the most part you're able to grab toys that are close by, but you're not at all picky. Which includes tearing our (expensive) glasses right off our faces. It's enough to make a Daddy think about going back to contact lenses. And of course you've gotten some of your own. Here you are talking to your agent on your ring-phone:

In mid-April we left you on your own for the first time, when we went to a concert in New York. You and Lola had a grand old time, which is also the same weekend we had the first of the feedings shown above. Later that week we took in a bunch more concerts and tried you out with several babysitters, all of whom succeeded in keeping you in one piece, or at least putting you back together and making you happy by the time we got back. We did have a small amount of parental guilt, especially the first time, but we quickly realized that Mommy/Daddy time is important for us to have as well. So thank you for treating your babysitters well enough that we're able to have time to ourselves.

In mid-May, we had your baptism here at the local chapel. You were so well-behaved! Quiet all throughout the ceremony, even smiling at the priest when he anointed your head. We suspect it has something to do with the fact that you inherited Daddy's dry skin and were smiling in relief as he gave you some moisture. Family photo courtesy of Tito Vince:

Later that month, we took you to your first concert. Three of our favorite bands were playing a free outdoor show in Boston as part of a radio festival, so we packed you up and left in mid-morning to claim a spot on the lawn where we'd be able to lay out with you and enjoy the music. It was HOT and you weren't all that interested in taking naps (even under the cute little sun tent we bought) so Mommy and I took turns holding you and taking you for walks. I took you down by the river so you could watch the sun sparkle off of it and catch a breeze; we watched the boats go by as we listened to Grace Potter from a few hundred yards away. You got so many looks and compliments on your Guster onesie, your sun hat, and your ear protectors (though one horrified woman thought they were earphones and we were pumping 50 Cent through them at 120dB). By the time Guster's set rolled around, it was cooler and you were in much more of a mood to listen to quality music. So we danced together for about 20 minutes before you nodded off and spent the rest of the set snoozing away on my shoulder. Happiness, as one father would later tell me, is a warm baby. I greatly regret not bringing our camera to the show to capture more moments, but here's one thanks to our friend JAson:

And now you're six months old! It's hard to believe that it's been half a year since we came home with you, and that you've turned from a tiny little 8-pound cocoon to a bouncy, strong, happy 17-pounder. Over the last week we've had your six-month birthday, Daddy's 32nd birthday, and Daddy's first-ever Father's Day. It's been quite the eventful month...I feel like we're learning just as much as you do - getting used to life with each other. It's been a wonderful half-year - happy half-birthday!

Love,
Daddy

Sorry this month's entry is a little late...it hasn't been the best month health-wise. You had your first cold, your first ear infection, your first diarrhea, then your mother and I got sick, and it just wouldn't let up. You actually seemed to be the least affected of all of us - heck, it was actually easier for you to poop, and you got a little irritated when we kept wiping and suctioning your nose, but I guess our bigger bodies get bigger aches and pains. Talk about being a baby.

It all started in March, if you can believe it, when I had to skip Grampa and uncle Matt's rotisserie league draft, a yearly tradition around these parts. When you're old enough to understand (and get the 70's reference), you'll be flattered that their team name this year is Carly's Angels (which we stole for trivia night a week before.

One big development for this month has been that you've gotten much stronger - your neck is strong enough to hold your head up now so it doesn't flop around. You're still adorably wobbly when we hold you up (you can't quite sit up by yourself) but you definitely have control over your head. It's hard to describe exactly how rewarding it is to be walking from the sink to the nursery, look up, and see your cute little eyes following me from halfway across the apartment. And you're even smiling for the camera now!

You're doing an outstanding job at school, according to your teachers. They all comment on what a good listener you are (as if you're going to start participating in conversations about world events - on second thought, it's probably best that you don't. Don't ask.) and apparently, tales of your naps became the stuff of legend within a few weeks of you starting. I introduced myself to the mother of one of your classmates around mid-month, and she said "Oh, you're HER father! She's a great napper!". I confess, it's true. You seem to have inherited mommy's nighttime genes (falling asleep early and most anywhere) and daddy's morning genes (not wanting to wake up). In fact, both you and mommy fell asleep in the car on the way down to Lola's house, and if there were some way I could have taken a 360°-picture to capture both of you, peacefully snozzling away and lolling off to one side, I absolutely would have done it. Instead I'll have to content myself with the mental snapshot I took, because it was truly a like mother, like daughter moment.

This past month also brought the news that we'll be moving into a MUCH bigger place. We like the place we're in, but it's not safe for you, apparently - there's lead in the paint and the walls and the pipes or something. At first we had trouble believing that you'd crawl around chewing the baseboard, but after seeing the cute 6-month-old on the train last weekend attempting to fit the entire handle of her CAR SEAT in her mouth (that was one ambitious child), we now don't doubt that a bit. Especially now that you've begun your oral phase - not only can you bat at things, but you can grab them fairly well and put them into your mouth. Which is all good and well when it's one of our fingers, or a bottle (BEHOLD MY MANUAL DEXTERITY), but not so good when it's the broken glass, muddy old galoshes and rat poison we leave lying around. (joking) (the galoshes are new)

The best thing about the new place is that it has onetwothreefourFIVE bedrooms. As opposed to the one and a half we have now. It's just not the best setup to have your small, closetless, drafty room all the way across the apartment from us. We like having you CLOSE!

So this month's entry has gone from being a little late to a lot late. So much to catch up on...

Love,
Daddy

The last couple of weeks have been a bit of a roller-coaster ride around here at the Bean household. It's Mrs. Dave's busiest period of the year (she has several, but this is the knock-down, drag-out, up-at-5am, home-at-9pm, pride-swallowing SIEGE to end them all), and little Ms. Bean has come down with her first rash of illnesses. Because good things come in threes.

First, she managed to come down with a nice little gastrointestinal issue that temporarily turned her into a sprinkler system, to put it delicately. She was generous enough to share that with me (yes, sharing is a lesson we wish to teach her, but as with everything, there are limits), and at the same time, Mrs. Dave apparently came down with the same bug I got last month where I woke up feeling like I'd been hit by a bus which then stopped, belched exhaust in my face, backed up, and repeated that a few extra times for good measure. Fortunately, it's quick-acting and the missus was back up and operational the next day, but the Super Soaker was doing her thing for a week solid (or a week liquid, if you will).

Then, just when it seemed like she was over it, the faucet suddenly opened at the other end, and her nose was running to the point where it sounded like she was constantly beset by that little hooked suction tube they stick under your tongue during orthodontic procedures. THAT, of its own accord, eventually morphed into the raspy, hacking cough of a two-pack-a-day smoker, even though we've managed to get her down to a pack and a half lately (parenting is all about compromises). The nose has now gone dry (and stuffy as all hell, preventing her from breathing through it while she's sucking her thumb at night) but heaven knows liquid needs a place to escape from, so it decided to exit, stage right, out her ear.

For those of you who aren't up on your anatomy, a slight digression - the mouth cavity is connected to each ear by narrow channels called the Eustachian tubes. They're the things that crackle when you yawn or swallow - they allow you to equalize pressure inside your ear drums so they don't burst when the air pressure changes. They also help drain mucus from your ears (ew). In adults, these tubes are about an inch and a half long, but as you might imagine, they're considerably shorter in infants and children. Couple that with the fact that they get swollen when you get a cold, and presto, ear mucus can't drain that way, especially when you're lying down as much as you are when you're an infant, and it all builds up behind your eardrum. The perfect recipe for an ear infection.

If you've ever had an ear infection, you may remember that it essentially feels like you have a knitting needle shoved from one side of your skull out the other. As adults, our tolerance for pain is higher and our social skills are developed to the point where we don't go around screaming bloody murder all day, but your average four month old basically figures MY EARS HURT SO YOURS MAY AS WELL TOO. I would have to think that many parents dread the screaming associated with ear infections even more than the actual pain being inflicted upon their children.

So back to the oozing ears of my progeny. Her teachers noticed it yesterday and said that she'd been scratching at it a little bit, but she tends to play with the hair around her ear when she sucks her thumb, so we thought we'd give it another night to see if it cleared up, thinking maybe it was just a little extra earwax. I know, I know, take away our parenting license now, as we are obviously not fit to handle a child. And of course, it continued with a vengeance today, but amazingly, the Bean didn't really react at all - a little more pulling, but she didn't cry, wasn't particularly cranky, nothing. Just crusty ear goop. We get an appointment at the local after-hours clinic, take her in, she's absolutely angelic for the nurse and doctor who see her, and after the doctor checks her out, she tells us "It looks like she had a little ear infection."

Wait...bwuh...HAD?

Turns out she'd gone through the whole thing without complaining, and that the oozing means that the eardrum has actually had a little hole open in it (ow ow ow, but perfectly normal, as it turns out) and the fluid behind it is draining out. So she managed to get all the way to the healing stages without anything more than her normal fidgeting and fussing - which we just attributed to "I'm wet", "I'm hungry", "I'm displeased the Red Sox were just shut out by Robinson Tejeda and friends", you know, that kind of thing.

So now the kid is on some yummy pink amoxicillin mixture that we have to keep away from Mrs. Dave (she'd shotgun that bottle if she had half a chance) that should knock her ear bacteria halfway to Neptune within a week. And as luck would have it, at the end of that week's time, the Beaner has her 4-month appointment with her regular doctor, so they'll be able to scope out her ear canal and see how things are healing. Who knows, maybe by then she'll have defeated a plethora of other viruses and be brewing up her own cure for anaplastic large cell lymphoma in honor of John Lester's recent recovery...

Here's our three-month portrait:

Yes, I realize I'm wearing the same sweater as in our two-month portrait. I'll try to remedy that for next month. You, on the other hand, are going through clothes like there's no tomorrow. And I don't just mean in terms of laundry (though lately it seems like we're constantly drowning beneath piles and piles of it, which doesn't seem possible because your clothes are so small!). I mean that you're growing like a weed! When we took you in for your two-month checkup, you were at the 88th percentile for height. So even though stuff looks baggy on you width-wise (you're at 60% weight-wise), your feet started sticking all the way into the feet of your newborn-size sleepy suits. It's sad to think that we're not going to be able to dress you up in the tiniest of tiny clothes anymore...but we're glad to see that you're growing!

As you can tell from the picture above, we have no qualms about dressing you in just about any color we want. Of course, the day we took that picture, we took you out to the local Trader Joe's (Mommy needed a refill of brownie bites, and Daddy needed some of his habanero lime chili salsa) and someone asked us "How old is he?" She was so nice to us that we didn't disabuse her of the notion, but we (and auntie Elaine, especially) hope to teach you that being a girl isn't all pink and frilly and dainty. Then again, dainty kinda goes out the window once you get your poop face on, but I digress.

Of course, pink, frilly and dainty do have their place. We had a little Oscar party that everyone had to dress up for, and you were no exception. Your friend Steph was nice enough to bring this beautiful little silk number all the way from Singapore, and the occasion just called for it. And your new Robeez matched perfectly. It's not exactly the best outfit for going out in late February, but in the cozy confines of our apartment, it's perfectly acceptable to be that daring.

Your thumb is your latest discovery. At the beginning of the month, you had a bit of trouble getting it into your mouth, and you'd rake your face up pretty well trying to find it. Scratches all over your cheeks, the likes of which we hadn't seen since the week we brought you home. Then once you get the thumb in your mouth, you suck on it so forcefully that it rams your fist into your nose and forces you to open your hand up so you can get as much of your little thumb in as possible. Eventually you'll have the manual dexterity to work around such obstacles, but for now, we'll have to deal with the bowling-ball grip - thumb in the mouth, fingers in the eye sockets. Just stop scratching yourself, ok? You gave us a scare at Gram's (mumble)th birthday party when we looked down to see blood on your face, and then reopened the cut a few days later. We had to use your little mitten for a few days on that hand, and worse, we couldn't bring ourselves to take pictures, lest we document what horrible parents we are. That's why February pictures are a bit sparse. Well, that and we forgot our camera on the trip to Maine AND the birthday party. Bad Mommy and Daddy!

But good, GOOD Carly. In fact, you're so good that we think you might be convincing other people that maybe they want to have babies too. This month you've really started socializing - you're small (and immobile) enough that you're easy to take places, and sleep a lot of the time without fussing much, but you're becoming very social and responding to people. Big gummy smiles, lengthy cooing/gurgling sessions with people (even on the phone!) and long periods of attentiveness and really studying people's faces. I must admit, you're quite persuasive, and you have yet to even learn to reason or argue. That's probably just as well, because even we, as your parents, are pretty much powerless to stop you, especially when you look as cute as this.

This is you all dressed up for your first day of school! That's what we're calling day care so that you don't freak out about the word "school" when it's really time to start. We wish we could keep you around during the day but Mommy's job kinda pays for the roof over our heads, so that's not an option. You officially started on the 5th but they said we could come by for some transition time the week before. And boy, did you take to it right away. Of course, you're asleep for five out of the eight hours you're there, but everybody at school tells us what a great baby you are. Very relaxed, very attentive, not demanding at all. One big power nap, either first thing in the morning or in the early afternoon, and otherwise, you're just content to watch the world happen around you. And they tell us that when you make noise, they know it's because you really need something, not just because you're looking for attention. I like to think that's something you picked up from us but maybe we just got lucky. Well, check that, we definitely did get lucky.

One last proud papa portrait from Oscar night, because that dress definitely deserves some more air time:

And one last bit of fame - you're on the front-page rotation of your favorite band's web site!

Looking forward to your first concert in May - maybe you'll even be awake for part of it! You'll soon learn that music is a big part of Mommy & Daddy's life - it's how we met, how we entertain ourselves on those long road trips, and kinda the purpose of a lot of those road trips to begin with. We can't wait to start sharing it with you.

Love,
Daddy

Two months have gone by now since you graced us with your presence. Lately, you and I look like this:

That picture will be the first example of you knocking a guy off his feet. Because if it's at all possible, you've gotten cuter over the last month. Your hair isn't exactly cooperating, but your eyelashes are almost long enough to braid, and you're now opening your eyes and even smiling with great regularity. Of course, who could resist a face like this?

The smiles are what have really made the last month for us. I think you recognize your own name, even, as long as we say it right (in a high-pitched voice, repeated multiple times). You also smile at the mobile above your bed, most of the toys we hold in front of your face, even your light switch:

You've also started taking a bottle, for which Mommy and Mommy's boobs are eternally grateful. And what's even better, you don't care who gives it to you - Mommy, Daddy and Gram have fed you so far. We've also started giving you formula on occasion - the first time we popped open the can, it was like the thing contained the Mormon Tabernacle Choir, such was the rejoicing and heavenly chorus that ensued when we realized how easy it was to drop three scoops of powder into six ounces of water. So even though the stuff may be priced like it's made of ground-up centaur horn, you're enjoying it, growing, and taking it from anyone who will give it to you.

You did, however, fail to acknowledge the deliciousness that is a double-chocolate Milano:

We're willing to overlook that in light of the revelation that our traveling genes have passed along to you. When we took the 300-mile trip to New Jersey at the beginning of the month, we made a point of waking you up at the midway point to ensure you didn't suddenly become hungry in the middle of the Tappan Zee Bridge (not too many pulloffs on the bridge, you realize). But I have the feeling that if we hadn't rousted you from your sleep to feed in southern Connecticut, you may well have slept the whole darn way to the Garden State. So combine Daddy's traveling genes with Mommy's sleeping genes, and you get a very pleasant car ride. Even if we were a little alarmed at just how far your head could droop forward - I'd swear you were trying to bite your own toenails. Once you got to Jersey, the sleeping continued - crouching Carly, hidden diaper:

For the most part, though, this month has been about you being awake, responsive and more expressive than ever. Two more pictures for posterity - first, Mommy's favorite picture of the two of us:

And finally, a family portrait - all of us playing in the gym together!

Now to enjoy your last month at home with Mommy before the next adventure begins - day care! Thank you for being such a wonderful baby these two months. We're pinching ourselves every day: sleeping through the night at six weeks, no diaper rash, no colic, no allergies, very little crying. There isn't enough wood in this apartment to knock on, Beanie. Time to go outside and start pounding on every tree in the neighborhood.

Love,
Daddy