Farewell to the mullet

Some will say that my hair was charming, and that one should flaunt it if one has it, but I just got tired of looking like a redneck:


I'm not posting photos of the fabu new do just yet, but let's just say it's professional-looking. It's what I need for interview season.

Unlike Samson, I seem to have lost none of my mighty powers due to the shearing.

--Maddie

Reason #274 Why I Feel Sorry for You Grownups...

... I get to bathe in an inflatable duck, and you do not.


--Maddie

p.s. If you are a grownup who does bathe in an inflatable duck, send me pictures and I will post them here.

The belated Halloween update

Dear readers,

You may have noticed that certain other babies updated their blogs immediately after Halloween (or even before) with adorable pictures of themselves. I, however, am only now getting over my shock and dismay that the holiday came and went and I didn't get a single piece of candy.

So, anyway, here are the pix. In this first, you can tell that I'm getting a spooky vibe off the jack-o-lantern:


My parents thought it would be a good idea to dress me up as a dog and take me out for the neighborhood party. It was OK, except for having to share the spotlight, and the fact that the costume, which fit well a month earlier, had become like a chihuahua suit on a beagle:


Maddily yours,

Maddie

Dada is a state of mind

I have been practicing my sounds recently, and my two favorites are clicking and my dental phonemes. Often when dad walks into the room, I say "dadadadadada." I also say that on walks with mom and sometimes to the dog, or the middle of the nanny feeding me. But dad is pretty sure I know exactly what I'm talking about. He has even written to the Academie Francaise for official confirmation (he didn't know of anyone else who claimed authority over language). Little does he know that I'm actually an adherent of Dadaism.

I got carded

My mom put me on the YMCA membership this week. (I think YMCA stands for Your Money Can't Afford -- have you seen the dues recently?) Anyway, they gave me this cool ID card:


No, the brick background does not mean that I'm appearing in a comedy club this week. You see the blue curtain up above my head? That was supposed to be the background. And pay no attention to the disembodied hand -- a strange growth that the doctors say will disappear in time.

Anyway, I have made certain modifications to the card using Photoshop:

Can you see the difference? Practically undetectable, if I do say so myself. And now I can get into all the fabulous dance clubs from which I've so far been excluded.

--Maddie

Continued disappointment

Is it any wonder I'm a little fussy sometimes? First my Mini Cooper was replaced with a mini scooter (see below), and now this: Kids elsewhere in the world get to bring baby elephants into the house!


But do I get to bring baby elephants into the house? Nooooooo...

--Maddie

Smells like school spirit

Fall is in the air, with Hotlanta temps dipping into the frigid forties. Parents who've never lived north of the Mason-Dixon are bundling their children in heavy fleece for midday walks, and I am already getting nostalgic for my father's not-yet-alma-mater. (Not yet his mother? Does that mean dad is still embryonic? I hear that the fetal position is a common one for dissertating grad students, but he's the one trying to give birth to this thing, so I'm confused...)


As for me, I'm enjoying the fall weather...


If it looks like I'm not enjoying myself in this next photo... well, that look on my face is disappointment. I clearly asked Mom for a Mini Cooper for my six-month birthday, and this is what I got:

Finally, I had a strange experience in Los Bravos yesterday. I was smiling at an old couple at the next table -- I always smile at strangers. But then the man came over and gave me a dollar -- "put it in her baby book," he said. What would Miss Manners say? Is this a quaint Georgia custom that we're unaccustomed to? Or are the magaritas at Los Bravos just a little too strong?

--Maddie

Stand and deliver

I think this video pretty much speaks for itself. But just in case it doesn't, let me just add that standing up is a major exertion for a tiny person. That should explain what happens at the end...

Bubble trouble

I suppose the true mark of fabulosity is the ability to take a bad situation and make it fabulous. Like last night, when our power went out in a hail storm, Mom gave me a bubble bath by candlelight. Fabulous!


In other news, the standing continues. My parents are assiduously avoiding watching high jumping and pole vaulting on TV, lest I perfect my technique and bust out of this holding cell:

They feign horror at George Bush's human rights violations, yet I am confined here without a hearing or any legal advice -- usually all night long, and for (very brief) periods during the day as well!

--Maddie

I stood up this evening...

. . . for the first time ever. Yes, I may have used Mom a little bit to get up there, but in the end there I was.

What, you ask, inspired me to reach for the sky? Mom's plate of Chinese food.

Some things, you see, are simply in the blood, like my love of music and the outdoors.

I did not get the Chinese food. Like Paloma, my parents are still too quick for me. I got a "teething biscuit" instead. Woof.

--Maddie

The Banana Puff Incident

Where to begin? How about with the fact that I will put just about anything in my mouth these days? I look around and I feel sorry for all you people who are not using your mouths to explore the world.


Anyway, Mom and Dad are trying to steer me toward putting certain things in my mouth, and not certain other things. So they've started giving me finger food, like these so-called "Banana Puffs"...


Let me tell you something, Mr. Banana Puffs...


...I know bananas. I have eaten bananas. And you, Mr. Banana Puffs, are no banana.

On the bright side, I am taller than ever in my new perch:

Soon I will be able to reach Dad's hair and the fun can really begin.

That's all the fabulosity that's fit to print. See you next time,

Maddie

Maddie-roo

We went to the Atlanta zoo this weekend, but I didn't get to see my Chinese twin. I did see a lot of other things, though.

Anyway, sometimes a picture is worth a thousand words:

--Maddie

I'm a basket case

Now that I'm so much more mobile, Mom is looking for ways to contain me so that she doesn't turn around to find me chewing on dad's sandals, or the dog. This was an early effort:


But I like this one better...


As the sportscasters like to say: You can't stop me, you can only hope to contain me.

--Maddie

It's not nice to infringe on baby's intellectual property

I can't believe this! Baby Talk stole my idea! ... (click to enlarge)

Not only did I think of it first (by four months), I came to Baby Talk's defense concerning the whole "boob on the cover" issue. So I am not going to take their advice and "laugh it off"!

I have sent the follow missive to those parasites (oh yes, baby knows how to use Google to find legal letter templates):

Dear Baby Talk magazine:

It has come to my attention that you have made an unauthorized use of my copyrighted work entitled "Maddie-ness" (the "Work") in the preparation of a work derived therefrom. I have reserved all rights in the Work, first published in Saturday, May 13, 2006. Your work entitled "Pimp My Ride" in your September 2006 issue is essentially identical to the Work and clearly used the Work as its basis. For example, the large wheels and bottle holder are both referenced in my earlier Work.

As you neither asked for nor received permission to use the Work as the basis for "Pimp My Ride" nor to make or distribute copies, including electronic copies, of same, I believe you have willfully infringed my rights under 17 U.S.C. Section 101 et seq. and could be liable for statutory damages as high as $150,000 as set forth in Section 504(c)(2) therein.

I demand that you immediately cease the use and distribution of all infringing works derived from the Work, and all copies, including electronic copies, of same, that you deliver to me, if applicable, all unused, undistributed copies of same, or destroy such copies immediately and that you desist from this or any other infringement of my rights in the future. If I have not received an affirmative response from you by September 18, 2006 indicating that you have fully complied with these requirements, I shall take further action against you.

Very truly yours,

The Madster

p.s. You are so not fabulous!

Be honest, now -- is the postscript too much?

--Maddie

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