The real road test

We've taken Isabel on a few three-hour drives, but in a few hours we will begin the real road test with a baby. We're leaving at 3:30 a.m. to drive to Baltimore to stay with Josh and Ginger. I'm attending the American Political Science Association conference in Philadelphia to accept a dissertation research support award, so we're loading up the family truckster (Jetta) and hitting the Holiday Road this Labor Day. Since Baltimore is only 100 miles from Philly, we figured I could attend my event, we can check out the Liberty Bell with Isabel, and then spend the rest of our trip in Baltimore, home of John Waters!

The curse of the month by month guides

Isabel has hit almost every milestone exactly by the textbook. It's frustrating, like turning to the ending of a book and not being able to not read the last paragraph.

I was reading about 7 month olds this week and all of the guides mentioned this new pincer grab babies learn about this time. They basically start using their opposable thumbs to hold stuff instead of just wrapping their fingers around it.

Two days into being 7 months old, Isabel pinches her mom's arm with her new grasp and is learning how to hold soft toys in one hand by pinching them with her thumb.

If I want this parenthood thing to be more exciting/surprising, I have to stop reading ahead.

Unless someone can write an authoritative guide for me that says, "Your little one will stop spitting up, start walking, and say Daddy tomorrow." That spoiler I'll be glad to read.

Rolling, Rolling, Rolling

Teh Is will ding 7 months this week. No crawling as of yet but a prodigious amount of rolling. The instructors at her day care center have commented on her rolling more than any baby they've ever seen.

Her incredibly cumbersome head gives her rolling a regular thumping noise to boot. Every revolution is punctuated by her head smacking the ground. She'll either learn not to do it or develop two flat spots on her head from pounding it into the ground daily until she learns to walk.

It's a little bit frustrating that she's not really inclined to crawl at all. But it's very funny to see a child set her sights on something across the floor and try to meander to it solely through rolling. If the object is not on her axis of rolling, she just looks at it with no small amount of anger.

I can already see the bitter existential angst welling up in her soul. She's struggling to reconcile the disparity between her own being-for-itself and that of the stuffed turtle with the rubbery hands that are so fun to chew. Such pride. Such pride.

A Cletus by any other name...

Even though the beautiful newborn was clearly an Isabel, for the first few weeks after she was born, I occasionally associated Isabel with her in utero name, Cletus. What can I say? Cletus the Fetus is a nickname that sticks.

Last week, a family friend gave us a Baby Gap denim jacket that she had personalized for Isabel with her fancy new embroidery machine. It features some bees (since Kate's father keeps bees) on the sleeves, Isabel's name along with a smiling star on the chest, and another smiling star on the back.

I have to confess that throughout my pregnancy I expected a Cletus personalized shirt, onesie, or some other article of clothing for the baby. With Idletime's talent and experience at custom t-shirt production, I'm amazed he didn't give us something like that. Perhaps his dark humor is lightening with age? Nah. Still, as fall approaches, I'm almost a little disappointed that we don't have a hoodie for her with the name Cletus in big block letters on the back, or perhaps a baby-sized mechanic or bowler shirt with a Cletus patch above the chest pocket.

Do you see what I see?

Have you ever noticed how the Dodge Ram logo resembles a uterus and fallopian tubes?