Using my words

There was a period when mom and dad were slightly concerned that my future communication skills might be confined to shrieks and dinosaur-like gurgles. But I am happy to report that, having almost forgotten all my other languages, I am beginning to use more English.

These are some of my favorite words so far, with illustrations:

"Da-da"


"bug"
(variant: "bud")

"bug"
(variants: "buh-guh," less often "duh-guh")

"Ma-ma"
(variants: "bug," "AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!")


"buh-buh"

Yep, that about covers it so far.

--Maddie

Once more into the breach

I was complaining to Dad today that he had not been editing and posting any of my blog entries lately. He just rolled his eyes and said that a lot of things did not get done during Christmas and New Year's. I have no idea what he's talking about; all the important things got done... I got Christmas presents, and everyone spent a lot of time just admiring me.

Early Christmas morning I had to fortify myself with a hearty breakfast:

Gandalf conjured me a pancake in the form of my initial!


Mmmm... pancakes... Oh, sorry, where was I? Right, so there was a lot of work for a tiny elf, what with delivering presents and everything...

I got a whole pile of stuff, I think. I was too engrossed with the wrapping paper to keep track of everything...


In any case, Dad says I was the best gift of all...

Again, I have no idea what he's talking about. I think this may become thematic for our relationship....

--Maddie

Baptism redux; paparazzo busted!

When a paparazzo contacted my friend who works for Entertainment Tonight trying to sell footage of my baptism, she knew just what to do. She called the FBI and they swooped in to pick up the bad guy and the tape.

The upside is, now we have better footage:

They named the Panda after me

Here's the story.

Sometimes you have to face the monster

Just call me St. George...

A word about words

Dear reader,

You may have wondered at some point in your perusal of this blog how I keep my creative juices flowing. Well, as T.S. Eliot said, "Immature poets imitate; mature poets steal." I will leave it to you to decide whether or not I am mature, but the point is that however great a writer you are, you stand under the anxiety of influence. As the heirs of Saussure have observed, texts are tissues woven from other texts.

Am I still being too oblique? Fine: I can read. And I have proof:

Of course, I felt pretty busted when Dad caught me reading this book on parenting; it was so useful to be able to stay a step ahead of them; like when I read in Ferber that you could let your kids cry for up to 30 minutes, I knew I only had to go for 31 and the Mom and Dad would appear at my cribside....


As you may be able to tell if you click on that photo for the larger version, I am such a good reader that I sometimes get bored of reading right side up and read books upside down. It's just a thing I do.

--The Madster

One small step for a baby...

...one giant step closer to getting my hands on better food.


I took my first steps today. The impact of the event was a little bit lost when, shortly thereafter, a stomach bug reduced me to projectile vomiting and I had to go to bed. But then I took a couple more later for good measure.

In the above photo, I could have had Dad Photoshop my hand off the knob, but no, I'm not walking in that one. But I can.

I know, I know -- it's a video world. Stay tuned, YouTube generation; film is forthcoming.

--Maddie

The strangest bath ever

The other day I had the strangest experience -- they gave me a bath in church! My normal bathtime is 6 p.m., and no one but Mom and Dad bathes me, but that day a man named Gary Charles held me up in front of everybody, and they had a little tub right there in Central Presbyterian!

Those church people seem nice enough, so don't tell them I said this, but it wasn't a very good bath. They didn't let me have my foam toys, or jump in the pool, or anything. They didn't even use shampoo!

Here's what it was like (You'll have to tilt your head, sorry):



The one fabulous part of the whole thing was that Gandalf carried me around the whole church afterward, and I got to smile at everyone and talk to them and show off my pretty pink dress (24-month size!).


Dad says the bath means I'm a child of the covenant. That sounds OK, I guess. I am having my lawyers draw up a covenant document with stipulations about minimum pureed-fruit feedings, reasonable napping expectations, etc.

... What?

--Maddie

Giving thanks for mashed potatoes

Thanksgiving is officially my favorite holiday so far. Gram and Gandalf brought TONS of food all the way from North Carolina, and I got to eat practically all of it! Can you say "tryptophan coma"? I can't, but then, I'm only nine months old.


The weekend was beautiful and warm, and full of the usual fun and games...


...and I had to make a stand in my castle against a terrifying dragon with monstrous teeth.


There was one more notable event that weekend, which I will belatedly address in my next post.

--Maddie

A $4,000 home movie?

Sure, I suppose you could pay $4,000 to have someone record and edit your childhood. But I find it much more cost-effective to be so fabulous that I have to beat off the paparazzi with a Zweibach biscuit.

--Maddie

Prelude to Turkey Day

Dear Reader,

It's been one of those periods where there's too much going on in my Fabulous Life (TM) for me to even try to cover. Some say a picture is worth a thousand words, so let's give that theory a shot:

The Chiu grandparents came and rolled around on the floor with me:

Don't tell Dad this, but I think Papa Chiu may be cooler than he is. Ever since I broke his cell phone and his car alarm remote by sucking on them, Dad has been really stingy about sharing his electronic toys with me. And I love shiny things with coloful screens...

Also this week I had my first trip to Gymboree! We did all kinds of interesting things, and everything is padded! Mom says that means I can bounce off the walls in greater safety.



All in all, I had fun, although it was hard for me to participate since I'm so painfully shy...


...how was that? Was the delivery deadpan enough? Did you believe it for a second?

--Maddie

Free Maddie! ! !

Dear readers,

I am sorry to report that I am the latest casualty of overshare in the blogosphere. I only wanted to be in a car, and now I am in-car, all right -- in-car-cer-a-ted (I learned that word from my Baby Einstein Baby Prison DVD):


It all began with my fake ID. Cute Barritt and I rented a car and drove downtown, and we had just gotten past the velvet rope at Eleven50. Everything was going fabulously, and I was about to order a Reflux Russian (a White Russian made with Enfamil AR) when suddenly a bouncer came out of nowhere and snagged us!

So, which one of you turned me in? I hope I don't sound paranoid, but really, what else could have given away the fact that we are under 21?

At least I'm not the first person to get dinged for TMI.

"Daddy, will you play me 'Folsom Prison Blues' ?"

I hear that train a-comin', it's rollin' 'round the bend
And I ain't seen the sunshine since I don't know when
I'm stuck in Russell prison and time keeps draggin' on
But that train keeps a-rollin' on down to San Antone

When I was just a baby, my papa told me lots
--like not to make fake documents by using Photoshop--
But I snuck into a dance club, and I told a lie
When I hear that whistle blowin', I hang my head and cry

I bet there's rich kids snackin' as that old steam engine huffs
They're probably drinking formula and eatin' Veggie Puffs
But I know I had it coming, I know I can't be free
But those babies keep a-movin' and that's what tortures me

--Maddie

"Because it was there"

I decided this week to skip past the whole "walking" phase and move straight to rock climbing:


Walking is just so 11 months, you know? It's like, do 17-year-olds actually read Seventeen magazine? Of course not! Thirteen-year-olds do. Do you see where I'm going with this?

I have to swear you to secrecy, dear reader, but... you've seen my Photoshop skills, right? Well, I'm working on a driver's license, for when I turn three.

Maddie

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