Anyhow, look at my baby:
"Waiter, I will have a martini."
My big, big girl sits up in a restaurant high chair for the first time! She proudly took her place at the head of the table and happily banged the surface for attention any time my dining companions and I took our eyes off of her for a second. She also enjoyed her first bites of minestrone soup broth, to which she gave two enthusiastic thumbs up.
She's fully recovered from her month of illness, and the only lingering effects are some weight loss, a nasty fake cough that she executes with a wry self-consciousness of her own great wit, and a strong desire to be permanently attached to SLB's or my body at all times. She reminds me of those sad baby monkeys clinging desperately to their cloth mamas in Harry Harlow's awful experiments. She's generally in good spirits, but only when accompanied by a parent.
In other highlights:
*I went to Portland for a quick overnight to visit two of my favorite ladies and get a break from my favoritest lady of all. Livy had a great time with SLB for the weekend. They ran a bunch of errands and, as a special daddy-daughter treat, went to the zoo together. Everyone survived with all digits and most mental health in tact. It was a great success! If you're going to Portland soon, you really MUST go to Beaker and Flask. The food is absolutely flawless. The restaurant and the cuisine is hearty and homey with just enough perfectly-executed high class touches to justify wearing a
slutty festive dress and hooker sophisticated heels. I enjoyed a simple salad of butter lettuce in a buttermilk and tarragon dressing; the grilled beef shoulder with root vegetable gratin, celeriac puree, foie gras, and balsamic; and my partner-in-crime and I split the panna cotta with beignets and huckleberry sauce. For drinkies Doug, our excellent bearded bartender, served up two vintage champagne glasses of "Stuck in Lodi," a cocktail made of rye whiskey, gerwutztraminer syrup, Cynar, and Peychaud's bitters. A fine time was had by all, except for everyone in earshot who had to hear me slur my decreasingly lucid bon mots after two stiff drinks. Portland, I trust you to forgive me!
*To continue the weekend's luxury, Livy and I went shopping in Fremont yesterday. Our haul included fancy chocolates, a book of poetry, and art supplies. Some of these things are gifts destined for delivery later this week. If you receiveone, it's because Livy and I love you and thought of you during our travels! If you don't get one, perhaps you should consider being nicer to us. It's just a thought. No pressure.
*Livy was well enough to go to baby swimming yesterday, where she stunned the class with her absolute relaxation in the water. She was able to float on her back with ease supported by only one of my hands while most of the other children didn't tolerate this new skill at all. Yeah, I got a magical baby.
Happy to be going to the pool! Yes, there is a tiny swimsuit under those athletic sweats.
*Livy developed two new skills this weekend. 1) She now screams herself to sleep with the ferocity and volume of an enraged smoke monster, and 2) she mooshes her entire self into the juncture of between the crib wall and her mattress when she finally sleeps. Yes, friends, she is a crack baby.
New Jack Baby
Her bedtime fits and wall-burrowing have left their mark on Livy's face in the form of tiny bruises and abrasions. So, she won't be winning any beauty contests any time soon. That's O.K., though. Mama knows a lot of great places to buy tiaras, and whoever heard of earning a crown anyway? It just defeats the purpose of being royalty.
Hoods are more comfortable anyway, Mama. No worries.