My call narrative

I saw myself seated on a throne, high and exalted, and the rain of my food filled the kitchen.


Above me were parents, each with two hands: With one they covered their faces, and with another they were wiping my mouth. And they were calling to one another: "Holy, holy, holy cow is this a mess."

At the sound of my voice the doorposts and thresholds shook and the kitchen was covered with baby food. "Woe to me!" I cried. "I am ruined! For I am a baby of unclean lips."


Then one of the parents flew to me with a rubberized spoon in her hand, which she had taken from the cabinet. With it she touched my mouth and said, "See, this is apple-blueberry puree; now please calm down."


Then I heard the voice of my parents saying, "Who sent us this baby? And will we ever have a normal life again?" And I said, "Here am I. Feed me!"

--Maddie

Canine? Ca-mine!

I am going to catch that dog ... eventually. I'm getting faster every day, and she is getting (if ever so imperceptibly) slower.


I know it's been a long time since my last post, so here's a glamour shot for those of you who have been missing my pretty face:


Of course, if it were a real GlamourShot, they probably could have Photoshopped that drool off my chin. Dad! Not fabulous!

--Maddie

Caption contest ! ! ! !

Dear Friends,

You've all been reading this blog for months now -- you probably have pretty good insight into my thought processes by this point. So today I inaugurate the first Maddie-ness caption contest.

Have at it:


--Maddie

If you conceive it, they will come

Well, the parade of people through my nursery (by which I mean, our whole house) continued this week when Aunt Sarah came to town. A day later, Henry showed up. Ordinarily I would call him Uncle Henry, but as it turns out Sarah is a real aunt, so I have to give her special props.

Anyway, we had so much fun with Sarah that we forgot to take pictures, but I do have one with Henry the Pastor Guy:


--Maddie

Music to my tiny ears

Yesterday I kicked back and relaxed a bit while listening to DeBussy's "Clair de Lune" on my iPod...


Does classical music really make baby smarter? Yes. No. Maybe. Whatever. Now if I can just get the 'rental units to supply me with a nice sippy cup of Oregon pinot noir to go with my cardamom-infused butternut squash (see my last post), I'll be all right.

Also, the papa-razzi finally caught up with me at the Y, where I was keepin' it real with my homeboy David and our moms:


You can't tell, but I'm wearing Spiderman Splashers (pool diapers) (yes, they make those). Remember, kids: Mo' splashing, mo' betta.

--Maddie

For the baby foodie

Just when you think you have the Fabulous Life figured out, you realize that you could be doing more. For example, today the NY Times reports that babies now can get food with things like coriander, shallots and ginger.

“Why shouldn’t babies, of all people, get to eat delicious things?” asks the founder of one of these companies. Why not, indeed?

Maybe I can talk mom into starting up one of these in Atlanta. After all, the All-Clad and the Wusthofs could just sit around for years otherwise.

--Maddie

Something's fishy

What a watery week... On Thursday, I had my first trip to the YMCA pool, but that was away from the prying eyes of the paparazzi. Encouraged by that, my parents installed an on-ground pool for me in the back yard. (Fabulous!) Nanny Emily played lifeguard


Mostly I like to kick and flail my arms. The more flailing, the more fun.

Then on Saturday we went to the GA Aquarium, which is the largest aquarium in the world, or at least the largest aquarium Home Depot could afford. The mascot is named Deepo, which is not only rather crass advertising for Home Depot, but also a blatant infringement of the Finding Nemo franchise.

But enough of that. The aquarium itself is really nice, or at least I can vouch for the parts I was awake for. I learned a lot ... like that when you are four months old and have an endearing toothless grin, you can grab people's hair in a crowd, and they will actually turn around and smile at you.


One of the hazards of having a Fabulous Life is that one becomes the show even when one is only trying to attend the show. Or maybe this fish just wanted my bottle:


As if all this wasn't enough for one weekend, I discovered that I have more great-grandparents! Nana and Papa were here to make funny faces at me!


Okay, my brain hurts from all this thought-transmission, so I'll call it quits for now. Peace out!

--Maddie

All the baby news that's fit to print

There's been a lot of baby news in the media recently. I don't mean the telepathic messages that we babies are always sending each other, I mean the same media that you all probably, um, enjoy.

First, of all, a Yale professor named Charles Yang wrote a book called The Infinite Gift: How Children Learn and Unlearn the Languages of the World. In it, he says that babies learn our native languages in part by unlearning the grammars of all the rest. Well, it's about time someone figured that out -- it's been killing me! Why, last week I forgot Russian and Swahili, and just this morning I was trying to think of that Italian word for when painters use light and dark, and I couldn't -- so that'll probably be gone in a matter of days, too. It's all very distressing, and no one understands, just because I can't talk.

The other news is that some people are all worked up because a baby magazine put part of a breast on their cover. You know, I was just blogging about boobs last week, and I just want to say to anyone who was offended: I'm very sorry ... wacko.

--Maddie

Looking ahead, looking back

I have a confession to make: I'm not a very patient little person. I sometimes cry between spoonfuls of rice cereal because it's not coming fast enough. Mom says she has no idea -- NO IDEA AT ALL -- where I got this trait; and then she looks at Dad. I haven't figured out all the office politics around 1162 Russell yet, but that's what happens.

Anyway, I'm waiting -- impatiently -- for Baby Boy Robertson to arrive. We had our first play date this week, and I have to tell you -- it would have gone much better if he had already been born. I was sending him encoded baby signals to hurry it up, but he seemed pretty comfortable. Maybe Scalini's eggplant parmigiana will do the trick.


Also, those of you are major baby blog geeks may remember when Cute Barritt wrote about the Half-Gallon-of-Mint-Chip-That-Had-Mint-But-No-Chips. Well, behold my own recent discovery: the Seeded-Hamburger-Bun-That-Is-Only-Half-Seeded:

Unlike Barritt's dad, we are not going to ask for a refund.

That's all the news from 1162 Russell. Peace out.

--Maddie

The Word from Maddie-world

What's up, my peeps?! It's been too long since I gave a real update! I am four and a half months old.

The family spent the past ten days in Durham, and Mom took me to the mall to set me up with some fabulous accesories...

...but aren't these for girls who don't have any hair?

Of course, I got to see Gram and Gandalf and the Fascinating Backyard Fountain again. The surprise was a visit from my aunties, Ali and Charlotte! OK, someone is telling me they're actually cousins once removed or something. But I know an aunt when I see one.


This was also the week we started solid food! Solid food is amazing! I blew right past the rice cereal and have already tried sweet potato, squash, banana and string beans. So far I like everything.


I like everything so much that sometimes I just want to take charge...


Things did not go so well when it was time to take the spoon out, though...

Oh by the way, I also am beginning to crawl, sort of. Between the crawling and my spirited rolling maneuvers, they can't even keep me on my play mat anymore. Look out, Paloma, here I come!

--Maddie

There's a sucker born every minute

If you are a baby with a mother, you probably know that when you suck on her boob, milk comes out. But I ask you: have you tried sucking on other parts of her to see what comes out?

I, Madeleine Mei Hays, am conducting a series of experiments to answer that mystery. In the photo above, you can see one of my neck-sucking trials. In the interest of advancing science cooperatively, I must report (with some disappointment) that I have been unsuccessful in sucking anything from the neck, cheek, chin, upper arm, forearm, stomach or hands. Nor does it appear that the growling sounds mommy taught me to make while doing this have had any effect yet.

However, please note that this leaves a large number of body parts yet to test. I am confident that I will yet discover a source of pureed carrots or grape Kool-Aid somewhere on mom's body! (Dad is kind of hairy, so I am considering discontinuing my research on him.)

--Maddie

Dear Mr. Bush...

... how will you handle the country if you can't handle a screaming baby?


Pollsters are already saying that this photo could cost the Republicans the crucial screaming-baby demographic. Only 18 years until our mighty voices are heard!

No justice, no peace, Mr. Bush.

--Maddie

As long as we're talking about fitness...

... There is no need to put weights in baby's toys. In fact, that's kind of mean. Who are you calling chubby?

I'm already on a fitness regimen in preparation for a life of fabulosity anyway. Here I am stretching before a workout:

I owe my sculpted physique to my personal trainer, Keroppi.

--Maddie

B-man and Tourmageddon

You hate to see your friends suffer, so I am feeling bad this week for Cute Barritt, whose young, tender heart has been broken by the Tour de France doping scandal.

Dad wouldn't let me read the Jan Ullrich blog that you posted, Barritt, because he was concerned it would teach me bad English such as this headline: "Quit being harshing the Jan's buzz." But it does appear that Ullrich and bunch of others are big fat cheaters. Well, big skinny cheaters. But that's all I know about that.

I just want to suggest, Barritt, that you consider sticking with soccer. I don't think anyone takes illegal performance-enhancing drugs in soccer. Consider: Ronaldo is in terrible shape, so he needs to get his money back if he's taking something. Zinedine Zidane? A Frenchman's idea of performance enhancement is switching to Gauloises Lights. Beckham has already achieved the pinnacle of human existence by marrying a Spice Girl, so what does he have to gain? The U.S. team can't be doping, or else they wouldn't be so bad. And everyone seems to get so tired in overtime that they can't score any goals. Heck, the Swiss were so tired they couldn't even convert a single penalty kick. (Sorry, Miriam!)

--Maddie

p.s. You could also watch Wimbledon, where no one is doping because they couldn't hope to beat Roger Federer on grass anway.

When Stuffed Animals Attack, Vol. 27

A visit and a new discovery

Well, Aunt Kristen has been here this weekend, all the way from Connetti-- um, I can't spell that state yet, but it's one of the many where Dad used to live. Anyway, she's awfully nice. She lets me yell at her all I want and never gets impatient. And she seems to be a source of fun toys.


As you can see, I was wearing my tennis whites today in celebration of the beginning of Wimbledon.

Also, this just in: I have discovered that I have feet, although I am not sure what to do with them yet...

...based on my expression in this photo, the likely answer seems to be: Something nefarious.

--Maddie

The debut of Madelinho

Since I've been watching a lot of the World Cup, I have decided that my youthful fascination with pop culture has been a bit misguided, and that I will instead dedicate myself to becoming the next great futbol player (you may know the sport as "soccer").

I figured the first thing I need to do is come up with a good one-word name to go by, since that's what all the great players do. So, in honor of Ronaldinho and Robinho, I have dubbed myself Madelinho.

I'm already quite good...



--Maddie

Gearing up

If you're a new parent, or about to be a one, you know how much stuff is absolutely essential for raising a child today. If you were a new parent a while ago, you might be surprised at how much there is. Today I thought would discuss two of the new products without which a baby's life would be merely a constant sorrow.

1. Behold The Randomizer:

The microwave infuses formula with millions of little air bubbles that make baby's tummy blow up like the Hindenberg. So once upon a time, parents had to painstakingly warm bottles of formula in pots on the stove. That would just take a few minutes, you say? You are obviously a bad person who would not give baby what baby wants with proper immediacy. Thus, enter The Randomizer.

The Randomizer is a wonder of modern engineering. With a heating element in its little hole, it steams small amounts of water to heat the bottle. How small? Ah, there's the rub. If you put an 6 ml of water into The Randomizer, you get cold formula; but if you put in 6.5 ml, you get boiled formula. Or maybe not. It all depends on the composition and initial temperature of the formula, the room temperature, the barometric pressure, etc. Or maybe it is merely the mood of The Randomizer on that particular night. As you can see from the photo, my parents have tried to propitiate the Randomizer by sprinking offerings of Mylanta at its feet. But its thoughts are not their thoughts, nor are its ways their ways.

In any case, usually The Randomizer makes the formula so hot that it has to be placed in an ice bath to cool the formula in order not to scald baby's tender mouth. My parents keep a Big Gulp cup on hand at all times for just this purpose.

Sometimes if they get distracted, the ice bath cools the formula to refrigerator temperature again and the process begins anew! How did former generations survive without such conveniences?!

2. The Sling:


Rustic, don't you think? We have a Baby Bjorn, but really -- it's overkill. We're not going for any backpacking trips just yet.

Also, Mom has never quite gotten over missing Woodstock, so this is her attempt at looking like a granola-eater. No, I take that back -- she's not posing. Do you know what a recycling Nazi she is?

Anyway, all it really is is an adjustable sash. I sit in the pocket formed by its sag at mom's hip. I'm an outdoorsy kind of girl, so this enables mom to haul me around the neighborhood without her arms falling off.

I think mom chose this hippie pattern because it was on sale. Fabulous it's not. I'm trying to convince her at least to stitch "Miss Georgia Girl" on it. I'll be eligible in 21 months, and you can't start campaigning too soon.

--Maddie

Good news / bad news

The good news is, at least one author is already sensing the potential greatness of my life:


... I am already a bit nostalgic for my youth. How about you?

The bad news is, this is probably only the first of many times my name will be misspelled.

--Maddie

So competitive!

When Brad Pitt and Angelina Jolie's baby heard about my blog, she promptly registered a whole bunch of her own domains.

Darling Shiloh, it's only charming if you make it look effortless and natural!

--Maddie

Ursprache

I was pulling hard for my homegirl Finola Mei-Hwa Hackett last night in the Scripps Howard National Spelling Bee last night, but she hadn't studied her German as hard as her French, and "Weltschmerz" bit her.

After spelling "kundalini" (which sounds like something that would be nice with a marinara sauce), Katharine Close showed her how German is done with "Ursprache."

I'm practicing for my turn in about nine years:

"Can you please tell me the origin of that word?"

--Maddie

I'll tumble 4 ya

Boy of summer

For Memorial Day, Mom and Dad took me to see Cute Barritt in The Classic City. After playing hard to get by mostly ignoring him the first time we met, I couldn't help but notice him this time.

He was a little forward...


... but did I mention that he's very cute?

--Maddie

It's apparent he's a parent...

I'm not even three months old, and I already know The Family Circus is lame. But Bill Keane might have had a point. Not only is there a certain family resemblance, look what the few weeks of taking care of me has done to him -- check out the dark circles!


--Maddie

Dog days of summer

I went to my first pool party today, at Katie and Jamie's palatial apartment complex. I also dipped my feet in a pool for the first time. Have you noticed how easy it is to have a first when you're only 11 weeks old?

Anyway, when Mom put me in the pool, for a second I though it was bath time and she had really messed up the water temperature. Then I thought maybe I had been crying too much and looked around for the burlap sack. But there was none -- and there wer a lot of potential witnesses around -- so I was OK.

So the last thing that happened was I met someone my own age (see the last picture). As you can see, he was slightly friendlier than me. He can also walk, which made me really jealous, because you know, people drop food all the time.

Which reminds me, I didn't get the hot dog. Next time.

My first burrito, almost

"Mom, I'm facing the wrong way. Mom! I can't see the menu!"

Mom surfs the Web, and hil-hair-ity ensues

Gram commented on my last post that I seemed to be having a bad hair day on the 20th. To which I say: Ha! That was mere bedhead. When I do bad hair, I do it fabulously:

There is, in fact, a story behind this photo. No, I am not trying to steal hits from my friend Barritt, who recently solicited advice about his own hair. Actually, in the ongoing saga of my medical adventures, I was diagnosed (by mom) with something called "cradle cap," which is a cute way of saying "dandruff."

So mom read on the Internet that Vaseline, applied to the scalp, cures cradle cap. Miraculous! What this helpful Web site did not mention is that Vaseline is impossible to remove from the hair, which is (inconveniently) attached to the scalp.

So then mom went on the Web again (are you catching the trend here?) and discovered that cornstarch removes Vaseline, leading to another adventure....

No, there is no truth to the rumors that she was trying to color my hair like dad's or Taylor Hicks'.

Anyway, all this was about a week ago. I failed in my efforts to convince mom and dad to fly me to New York for a consultation with Kevin Mancuso, (they thought I was just hungry! Note to self: must learn to speak more clearly!), but my hair is pretty much back to normal.

--Maddie

What a week of firsts...

I turned myself over in my crib today, and I have proof:


What, you say that's not proof? Come on, how could you doubt a face like this:


For all you other babies who are reading this who maybe haven't yet turned over, let me just tell you, it's amazing. One second you're face down on your crib sheet, and the next you're staring at the ceiling, the light fixture -- your whole world just really opens up and it's like, wow. When it happened to me I was so blown away I actually forgot about the bottle I had been, um, requesting.

Chris

Give me a hand...

...no wait, I don't need one! I learned how to hold my own bottle this morning.

This is going to come in so handy for when dad and mom fall asleep during those 2 a.m. feedings.

--Maddie

My parents would Nevaeh do that...

This just in: If you name your child after one who appears on MTV, you are probably not as original as you think...

--Maddie

Mother's Day-catur

We spent Mother's Day in downtown Decatur, which is becoming sort of like Berkeley, except ... well, it's not really like Berkeley. But it is all left-wingy like Berkeley. Dad found out that Decatur was named for U.S. naval officer Stephen Decatur, who is ultimately responsible for the phrase "My country, right or wrong." Most Decaturites would be mortified, no doubt.

But they don't know that, so it was a pleasant Sunday afternoon. I was taking it all in, as you can see...


Things got more interesting for me later on when we went to the Brick Store Pub. (And that name is a lie, by the way, because they don't even sell bricks.) Anyway, Dad ordered the chicken and biscuits and then foolishly turned to look elsewhere. I had my chance... Let me tell you, once I get control of these hands, I'm going to be so much more effective.


--Maddie

Thanks, MTV!

Dear Readers,

You may recall that some weeks ago, when I was young and impetuous, I wrote to the MTV family of networks to invite them to include me on The Fabulous Life or Cribs. Well, it's funny how life works. Although I didn't make the cut for those shows (I blame my parents' lack of fabulosity) I did win my 15 minutes of fame after all.

Yes, that's right: this week I received a visit from my main man, Xzibit! And he and the crew at West Coast Customs pimped my stroller!


You can't see it from the photo, but there's a mobile, a bottle warmer and a wipes warmer built into it.

This was me when I saw it:


Thanks, MTV, for pimping my ride!

--Maddie

Hello, my name is Madeleine, and I'm a milkaholic

Five shots today -- my backside has taken more abuse than Bush's approval ratings! Only one thing to do -- head home and find comfort in the bottom of a bottle...

My Fabulous Life, Deuxieme Partie

Dear MasterCard,

Thank you for accepting my application for your Platinum Card. American Express has been slow about sending me my Black Card, so this will help me to maintain my fabulous life in the meantime.

I think I'll go buy one of these... did you know Mom and Dad are still brushing my hair with the free brush from the hospital? Unconscionable.

And I really ought to have one of these strollers, in case a building falls on me.

Also, I think Mom and I need some spa time. I mean, she does her best...

...but I'm afraid this aspect of my life is still not as fabulous as it could be.

I was going to pick up one of these, like my gal pal Apple Martin, but then I asked myself, why do I want to ride in something that looks like a hearse? I think I'd rather pimp my stroller with some 24s.

Can you imagine that some people actually question whether we babies need such things?

Some expert says: "What growing children's minds really need is time for free play. Time to just stare into space and allow the brain to rest, to form new connections, new ideas, and learn how to soothe itself." Is she suggesting that aromatherapy couldn't help with that?

--Maddie

They allow this?

As if the Japanese were not already crazy enough, look what they do to babies:


Here is the so-called explanation.

On the one hand, I would never let a sumo do that to me. On the other hand, I could definitely win that crying contest. (Don't know what I mean? Follow the link!) My Hays blood gives me a leg up on those naturally quiet Asian babies...

--Maddie

p.s. For those of you who think all Asians look alike... no, that's not me in the picture. No, not the other one either.