Monday, July 21, 2008

Nana's cart before the horse and Ava's feeding herself

Phone rings. It's my mom, who takes care of Ava in the mornings: "Hey, can she have crackers?"
Me: Sure. Wait: what kind?
Mom: Saltines.
Me: Oh sure.
Mom: Good. Because she's been tearing these up!
Me: Well it's good we got that cleared up in advance then.

I actually started giving her Goldfish crackers last night. They don't have transfats, like one of my formerly favorite snack crackers White Cheddar flavored Cheez-its. I'm so bummed those are now banned from the grocery list. I haven't seen a sufficiently tantalizing alternative at PCC or Whole Paycheck Foods, despite the dizzying array of organic sea salt-encrusted, herb enfused, multi-grain laden cracker/crispbread options to be had.

We met up with our PEPS peeps this weekend and caught up with each other and all the babies, who are each progressing at their own unique pace. Ava is the oldest by a couple weeks I believe, so we joked that she'll be the one driving them on teenage escapades since she'll be the first one with a license. Which led to the folks recounting their own teenage car misadventures. Like J. telling the story about driving his mom's car a few blocks away to "ask" if he could borrow it and getting into an accident on the way, totalling it. Ah, good times. Can't wait to regale Ava with that one.

J., a high school basketball/academic star and BMOC, has much better stories from his teen years than me. His stories involve a little partying with the other cool kids, a few youthful transgressions and some escapades that went up to the line but never crossed it, owing to a mom who laid down the law: "You will excel in school or you don't play sports. I don't care if the school district says you only need a C average to play. I say you need a B+/A-. And if I get called up to the school for some problem you've created and I have to take off work, you don't play sports and you won't sit down for a week." Yeah, that's pretty simple to understand, even for a teenage boy. So he had fun, but kept it to a dull roar. At least, in the stories we know about.

In contrast, my stories from high school all have pretty much the same theme: "So I was home studying all weekend and Monday at school I found out there'd been this big party over the weekend that all the cool kids were at. It sounded like it was a lot of fun. The end."

Or "We hung out all weekend at my friend's house reading books from the library and watching a VHS tape of Eddie Murphy's live concert. Then at school on Monday I found out there'd been this big get together over the weekend that all the cool kids were at. It sounded like it was a lot of fun. Then I went to go work on my college apps. The end."

Not the most riveting tales, but at least I don't have to worry that friends from high school or college will come to visit when Ava's a teenager and start off a story with "Remember when we woke up with those rug burns on our face?!" Actually, no, no I don't. Thankfully. More likely it'll be, "Remember we raced to see who could read that book the fastest and we got those paper cuts?!" Such were my extremely nerdy, book-filled young adult adventures.

I guess if Ava ends up somewhere between the extremes of hearing about the party days later and being the one who's presence makes it a party, I'll be fine with that.

On the development front, as I was telling the folks at PEPS that she's been trying to feed herself but hasn't quite managed to get anything in her mouth, I looked down at her on my lap as she carefully maneuvered a cheerio into her mouth with both hands. Two days later, she's on a goldfish cracker binge. Aah, babies. They grow up so fast.

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