making friends in the neighborhood
G and M are sitting on the couch watching sports together. This is vaguely reminiscent of the 2nd dayof G's life when I stumbled out of the bedroom in a hormone induced stupor to find the boys watching the Godfather. The pediatrician has done his utmost to impress upon me the evils of television on the developing brain and I have given up my burgeoning daytime tv habit. No more holding peekin while bouncing on the exercise ball and watching Regis and Kelly. It wasn't an enormous sacrifice. On the weekends, however, when M is home and watching sports (on one of the two channels we get) it is a little harder to prevent G from absorbing the vile rays. Our house is small; there is no escape from Al Michaels et al. And though I agree that we should avoid plopping him down in front of the idiot box whenever possible, I can't get too crazy about him catching a little ambient idiocy. He lives in this house, and is a product of our culture, and much as I hate to admit it, tv plays a role. Plus his dad has to teach him how to do manly male bonding things. Sometimes these involve television, but I don't want to get involved.
Anyway, we went on a walk this morning with the dog, G in his stroller. This represents a milestone of sorts. G has been adamantly anti-stroller from his birth. All those mothers pushing sweetly napping wee babes through Target in their infant carriers, so not our experience. Our reality was a shrieking infant thrashing in car seat while parents power walked the aisles grabbing things off shelves at random and then dashing to the checkout. Later, I tried a nice walk to the post office one ill fated afternoon when he was about 4 weeks old. He screamed half the way there (2 miles) and all the way back. So. I gave up on the stroller, parked it in the garage and broke out the baby wraps and carriers. These have been very successful, I'm happy to report, allowing him to scream in his car seat all the way to the store, but then be happily snuggled against my chest when we've reached our destination. As my babe rapidly approaches 20 lbs (he's really big) however, it has become a bit of a strain to lug him about, strapped in front. So the other day I gave the stroller one more try: and he loved it. Sitting up (sort of), looking out, all good fun. This morning, I thought, what a great day to take a little family walk. The sun is shining, no wind. Perfect. So we strap him in and take off down the street...forgetting, as we make the turn to come home, about the winter morning sunshine slanted at a wicked angle. Very unpleasant to baby eyes. Cries, nay, screams. As we tried a little damage control on the sidewalk, futzing with the shade, pulling sunhat down to very rakish angle over his eyes, we realized we had pissed off our neighbors when a window screeches open and a torrent of angry Spanish pours forth. Right, moving on... A few minutes later the dog stopped to take a crap on the grassy median between sidewalk and the road. A poodle popped its head up in the picture window of the house and started barking. This brought an angry fat man in a white t-shirt into view, banging on his window yelling at us to get our goddamn dog out of his yard. I brandish the plastic bag in which I clearly intended to pick up the poo -- going above and beyond, in my opinion -- but he just shook his fist and looked ready to burst through the window, or burst a blood vessel. The poodle looked on serenely. So on a 20 minute walk during which we endured a screaming infant (and forced him to endure the blinding light), we drove at least two of our fellow residents to the brink. A Sunday well spent. And it's not even noon.
Anyway, we went on a walk this morning with the dog, G in his stroller. This represents a milestone of sorts. G has been adamantly anti-stroller from his birth. All those mothers pushing sweetly napping wee babes through Target in their infant carriers, so not our experience. Our reality was a shrieking infant thrashing in car seat while parents power walked the aisles grabbing things off shelves at random and then dashing to the checkout. Later, I tried a nice walk to the post office one ill fated afternoon when he was about 4 weeks old. He screamed half the way there (2 miles) and all the way back. So. I gave up on the stroller, parked it in the garage and broke out the baby wraps and carriers. These have been very successful, I'm happy to report, allowing him to scream in his car seat all the way to the store, but then be happily snuggled against my chest when we've reached our destination. As my babe rapidly approaches 20 lbs (he's really big) however, it has become a bit of a strain to lug him about, strapped in front. So the other day I gave the stroller one more try: and he loved it. Sitting up (sort of), looking out, all good fun. This morning, I thought, what a great day to take a little family walk. The sun is shining, no wind. Perfect. So we strap him in and take off down the street...forgetting, as we make the turn to come home, about the winter morning sunshine slanted at a wicked angle. Very unpleasant to baby eyes. Cries, nay, screams. As we tried a little damage control on the sidewalk, futzing with the shade, pulling sunhat down to very rakish angle over his eyes, we realized we had pissed off our neighbors when a window screeches open and a torrent of angry Spanish pours forth. Right, moving on... A few minutes later the dog stopped to take a crap on the grassy median between sidewalk and the road. A poodle popped its head up in the picture window of the house and started barking. This brought an angry fat man in a white t-shirt into view, banging on his window yelling at us to get our goddamn dog out of his yard. I brandish the plastic bag in which I clearly intended to pick up the poo -- going above and beyond, in my opinion -- but he just shook his fist and looked ready to burst through the window, or burst a blood vessel. The poodle looked on serenely. So on a 20 minute walk during which we endured a screaming infant (and forced him to endure the blinding light), we drove at least two of our fellow residents to the brink. A Sunday well spent. And it's not even noon.
posted by cmm at 9:10 AM
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