A New Way to Sleep

Caught in the act: supposed to be sleeping, but playing instead

Last week I discovered a new way to sleep: sitting up. Yes, after months and months of allowing my parents to live in peace, I perfected a new move designed to drive panic into the hearts of adults worldwide. And once I perfected the move from prone to sitting, I wanted it no other way. It is now impossible to keep me down. 

A cousin of mine, who long ago perfected the art of sitting up, quickly also mastered the next move - pulling up then flying over the crib handles. This shocking but brave attempt at flight landed him on the floor for which he suffered only a temporary setback. I think he has a future in avionics. Bravo, cuz!

Imagine their shock when my parents saw from a
distance this little head above the sides of the crib

After finding me in this shocking and new position, and anticipating copying my cousin as my next move, abba and mommy took a lesson from that and quickly lowered the crib mattress to its lowest level. 

We learned something new as well. They call is a safety bumper for a few reasons - I've tapped my head on the wood several times already. Ouch!

I like my new view of the world

So much easier to grab things from here

Even camera straps!

My "Jersey Shore" pose

Just too excited to sleep!

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And I Thought I Had it Bad

Note the ring of drool on my shirt

I think I said this last week, but if this isn't teething, I don't want to know what teething is. But then again, at least it isn't open heart surgery! Been there, done that. However, my friend Mattie has his today.

Mattie is about two months younger than me and he has lived in the hospital since he was born! Whew! That, I cannot imagine. Hopefully after this surgery he will be able to finally go home. Please pray for Mattie like you did for me and then Hallel. I will keep you posted, but for more in depth reports from Mattie's mommy, based in Kansas City, USA, go here: http://tracieloux.wordpress.com/

I can't complain too much. But I will a little bit: Yesterday was a particularly grueling day as I drooled enough to fill an ocean. My thumb, other fingers and palm were sore from me gumming them all day. I moaned and travailed throughout the day and sought refuge behind a bottle or Baby Einstein Beethoven. Anything to keep the focus off my mouth.

In the meantime, however, allow me to issue a warning to the adults in my life: Stop prying into my mouth! I have established a moratorium on the "tooth watch" that takes place several times a day whether it is mommy or abba or friends of theirs who pull my lips apart and peer into my mouth in an effort to determine conclusively whether my odd behavior is being stimulated by the emergence of those pearly whites. Now I resist them by squeezing my lips shut and jerking my head back and forth wildly, making a good peek impossible.  

Everyone, of course, is hoping that teeth would mean an end to this minor disruption to my angelic behavior. However, lurking in the back of everyone's mind is the statement of the dentist who said that there is no proof that teething hurts us babies, casting doubt on whether or not there are any teeth popping through my gums at all. Then how would my latest idiosyncrasies be explained? 

Oral obsession

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My Day at the Beach

Hard to read but written in the sand around me: Daniel 2011.
The story of the beach and I.

In the third and final installment of my summer weekend series, I will tell you about my very first beach experience ever. I should also mention that, after all these fun excursions coupled with living in the sun baked desert of the Middle East, that I have a bit of a stroller tan. Have you heard of that? Said tan occurs when your shins and the inside of your thighs are rosier than the rest of your legs. It isn't an even spread over the top of the legs because, like many babies, I tend to sit frog style, so the sun is more evenly spread over my legs. Of course my face, arms and scar have been shielded due to stroller gadgets and what not, but the legs have taken on a nice summer glow.

Leading up to the epic beach day, I had wondered what all the hype was about. Are sand and sun really potential weapons of mass destruction? Am I really in danger of bites, burns and sand caked in yet-unknown crevasses? Are there bodies of water that churn more wildly than a pool of wailing babies? Are jellyfish, though they sound edible and look quite vapid, creatures that are actually mean and are meant to be avoided?

Apparently, yes.

Danger be darned, we were going to the beach anyway. Especially since we had a fan club awaiting us there including Bess, Dee and of course, Elan the brave. I will explain his fearlessness later in this post. 

The first part of the beach process involved coating me with some white cream called sunblock. I don't yet understand how a sheen of lotion could block the wrath of a whole star that dominates the solar system, but this is what people hope and do I'm told. And I was duly slathered.

Getting prepped for the sun

War paint applied. Now I'm ready for action.

Then we approached the water. And  I started to see how this type of water was vastly different than the sedate pool at Shalva. First of all, I couldn't see the end of this water, with the foreboding name of Mediterranean Sea. Secondly, it was not merely undulating with the antics of wave makers, but it was spinning in several directions. And then, as if this all wasn't enough, the water that had pounded forward onto the sand then rushed backwards, attacking me from all angles. As you can see in the photos, my initial reaction was one of due respect if not a touch of panic.

What the...???

Ok, as long as you don't let go this might be alright

Or not!

Mommy was really forcing the issue

The whole concept of the ground shifting beneath me was a tad unnerving. I guess that is where they get the expression "shifting sands." After prowling the water, but not getting too comfortable because of the jellyfish infestation, I was plunked onto the sand. Bess, ever the kindergarten teacher, mushed my hands into the sand since I was unwilling to do so myself. It was a messy affair, but since there was no going back I made my peace with the beach.

No, I did not put this stuff in my mouth. I know better than that.

And no I did not build this little mound.
I'm too new for such extravagances.

Elan is already a beach pro. Sure he has a couple years on me. But he loves the water and the adventure.

Elan brandishing a jellyfish carcass he harpooned.
Ok, well maybe it was already dead.

After the flurry of activity at the water's edge, we retreated to a safe and shaded spot further back. Here I learned about a few other beach benefits and the expression, a day at the beach. Ah yes, I can see why this beach thing can be a good idea.

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And all I Got Was this Lousy T-Shirt ... and a Goat

The goats were exciting - until I heard that Zia Em
came face to face with an elephant!

You know those famous t-shirts that people buy for family and friends as souvenirs from a trip? For example: "My aunt went to Africa and all she got me was this lousy t-shirt." Well, I don't know much about them since I'm relatively new to the world, but mommy tells me my following experience is similar on some levels.

It goes like this: My Zia Em (zia is Italian for aunt) went to Uganda this summer and she saw an ELEPHANT! Meanwhile, as part of my summer excursions, we drove a whopping 20 minutes outside of Jerusalem and I saw ... a goat. Actually hundreds of goats.

How do you compare goats to elephants? Sorry goats, but you can't.

Disappointment aside, it was good to be out in nature and get to see some four-legged creatures besides Lucie, the black and white cat who shares the apartment and avoids me at all costs now as I've improved my reach and grab.

I went with my friend Elan and we brought our parents along.

Elan and his mommy, Dee

As usual, it was very hot and dusty. As were the goats.

Elan is brave. I have a lot to learn from him!

This one especially liked mommy and had a
hard time leaving her leg behind

Off to make some goat cheese
after a tough day of eating grass

The goats come back to the farm at exactly 2 p.m. making them the only mammals in the Middle East who are ever on time. So after our exciting picnic basket lunch of goat cheese, goat cheese, goat yogurt and more goat cheese, we returned to the trail to wait for the return of the goats. And as the clock struck 2, they all came sauntering back from their stroll in the hills.

Goat

Goat

Elephant.
(I threw this in as proof: No comparison!)

After petting some goats and finishing off our unfulfilling picnic of goat cheese products, most of which I regurgitated, we decided to return to civilization. And we went to a restaurant to eat. 

Here we are at Focaccia.
Much more civilized.

Then we took a non-family photo. That family photo that
came in Ben's wallet (if you can see it) is not Dee and Elan. 

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The Crazy Running Crew

At the Tel Aviv Port escaping the heat,
but meeting the miserable world of humidity.

We are in the depths of summer, for months already, and many of you may be wondering, "What is Daniel doing during his first full summer?"

Well, that is a great question to which I have an answer - and many, many photos. I will divide it into a series of posts, beginning with this one about mommy's running group.

First, let me say, that I have been told this summer is not nearly as hot as last summer. Due to the insane heat of last year, I was done cooking early and arrived three weeks before my due date. That said, I find it hard to believe that this summer is cooler. The safety bumper around my crib blocks the breeze, when there is one. My car seat and stroller are torture chambers, trapping heat and keeping me all sweaty and clammy. Our apartment also seems to trap heat and we have had to make a few dashing escapes to air conditioned environs.

But even better escapes have been our weekend expeditions! On several consecutive weekends, we have met up with some crazy people: Alisha, Barry and Mike (also known as M1). I label them as crazy because they tend to ignore the broiling weather and go for a run while abba and I stroll along in my carriage. I shouldn't complain though - these insane expeditions have afforded me views of the Jerusalem hills surrounding my hospital, the impossibly large and plentiful Yarkon Park, the breezy and trendy Tel Aviv Port and even my first beach experience in Netanya.

It all started well and good with Barry and Mike at the
post-run coffee session at Sataf (Jerusalem)

Then things got a little weird

Mike, trying to recruit this new runner who doesn't yet walk,
thought the sweaty headband would lure me

Barry assumed the sweaty bandana would become
my trademark, following in his footsteps. No.

Now that is more like it! Carry me -
I'm not running!

 Then we branched out. Instead of the 20-minute drive to the outskirts of Jerusalem we braved the confusing roads of Tel Aviv. And we were amply rewarded:

I took my position as head of the table,
on the table

Barry and Mike still trying to recruit me. I opted for bib
instead of bandana and headband this time.

I always eat well on these occasions, especially with such
a view. Who can beat it? Mediterranean dining, ah.

Another run, another restaurant,
also at the port

If I won't wear his headband, he pinches me!

But Alisha was there to save me.

I prefer flying to running! Wouldn't you?

Or getting tickled. Even though it is torture.

London Cafe in Netanya - possibly the
best post-run meal yet!

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