Eight Months of Baby Chandler

On Chandler's Eight Months Birthday, first we hung out inside for a bit...

...then we went for a walk and...

...sampled the local foliage.

One of the many reasons I could not be a professional photographer: I like the pictures of the kid eating the leaves more than I probably should.  Poor Chandler.

Eight Month Fun Facts:

• Mobility: Like I've said in other posts, Chandler is a solid sitter now, with lots of crawling and some pulling up thrown in.  Next up, cruising.
• Sleeping: I don't want to talk about it.
• Temperament: Still a happy, happy baby.  Still adores her sister.
• Obsession:  Chandler is very interested in the bottles on the bottom shelf of the refrigerator door.  Very interested.  I really wish the hot sauce bottles didn't fit so well there.  Every time we open the refrigerator door, she'll crawl up in a jiffy and into the refrigerator.  It's like Pavlov's dogs and the drooling.   And she is very displeased when we take her out of the refrigerator. 

Forty-Seven Months of Preschooler Frances

Just when I didn't think I was going to have anything to photograph on Frances's Forty-Seven Months birthday, Frances did this:

Frances eats dinner in about three minutes.  Chandler takes more like a half hour.  So while Chandler was finishing up her dinner on Frances's forty-seven months birthday, I sent Frances in to the bathroom for a bath.  When I went to check on her, I found Frances in the bathtub still in her panties, because "I forgot to take my panties off."  Okay.

Forty-Seven Months Fun Facts

• Favorite Song: Call Me Al, by Paul Simon.  I've said something similar before, but I'll say it again:  Ten years ago, if you'd told me I would have a daughter whose favorite song was written by Paul Simon, I would have been thrilled.  But the charm wears off after several dozen repeats.  Still, I try not to complain because it could be so much worse.
• Favorite Book: The Three Horrid Little Pigs, by Liz Pichon - the classic tale of the three little pigs, except the three little pigs are horrid and the wolf is a kindly builder.  I still haven't grown tired of this one, which is good.
• New food:  She still won't eat normal kid food like grilled cheese, but she'll eat pine nuts by the tablespoon.  Interesting kiddo.
• Next up: Four Year Old Frances.  Astounding.

Bringing in the cheese*

We had quite the bounty after our day at Tougas Farm.  Frances was very eager to carve into one of her pumpkins.  I can't believe we've done this with her four times already.  She's getting to be a pro.

This year, Frances livened things up by coloring the pumpkin.

I love how the whole thing glowed, not just the face.

I roasted the pumpkin seeds.  They were de-lish.  Fortunately, Frances didn't like them, Mark never eats anything that close to nature and Chandler doesn't have any teeth.  So I ate almost all of them myself, said the little red hen.  

Frances and I also made apple butter and an apple galette, specifically an Apple Mosaic Tart with Salted Carmel, only I turned it into a galette because galettes are so forgiving. 

Nobody but me liked that either.  If the rest of my family liked good food, I wouldn't weigh so much, but what Mark and Frances really like are Chips Ahoy, and I can resist those all day long.

*Mark grew up singing a hymn entitled "Bringing in the sheaves," like "bringing in the bounty."  Trouble was, he grew up in Arkansas where wheat isn't a big crop and there weren't a lot of sheaves in his life.  He thought they were saying "Bringing in the cheese."  This always tickles me, because when I was little, I thought the song "Chariots of Fire" was "Cheese Balls on Fire," not that "Cheese Balls on Fire" made a whole lot more sense to a six year old.

I'm beginning to like this time of year...

...mostly because it's time to pick these beauties:

We headed out to Northboro, MA, to pick apples at the Tougas Farms.  I positively love apple picking at Tougas Farms!

This is how normal people pick apples:

And this is how giraffes pick apples:

And Chandler hung out in her carrier.

Poor Chandler.

Then it was time for Phase II: Pumpkins.

These Tougas Farm people are no dummies. You have to walk past the pumpkins to get to your car. So guess what?  You buy a pumpkin.

Last year, Frances rejected several pumpkins because they were too big.  Not this year.

And Chandler ate grass.  Poor Chandler.

This one almost persuades me to send out a Christmas card, but we all know that's not going to happen.

"Hey, Frances, pose with your sister!"

"Sure, Mom.  Like this?"

And then it was lunch time.  Poor Chandler.

Some day, kiddo, you'll have teeth.  And the world will be a beautiful place, full of pumpkin seeds, apple butter, and apple galette.  Photos to come.

Thirty-Four Weeks

So busy.

Ignoring Mark Twain

Mark Twain said, "Comparison is the death of joy," and I know what it's like to be compared to sisters, so I've tried to avoid comparing Frances and Chandler, but I'm going to let myself slip this once.

Almost since Chandler was born, people have been telling me how much Frances and Chandler look alike.  I always thought they looked like sisters, but that's to be expected since they both look like their dad.  The other day, I was looking over Frances's old blog and I found a photo of her at eight months.  I think it's time for me to admit there's more than a casual resemblance.

Still haven't quite gotten around to that baby-proofing.

I'd say, "Maybe the next one will look like me," but we all know if there were a next one, she would probably be yet another mini-Mark.  Mini-Marks-R-Us.

And now that she's mastered crawling...

Immediately after mastering crawling, Chandler started trying to pull up.  I guess she thought, why wait around?

She managed to stand up three times the first day, but she also fell over like a house of bricks three times.  Since then, she has slowed down a bit.  She's still trying to pull up, but more strategically, so she hasn't fallen down as much.  Something tells me this kid is going to be walking by her first birthday.  Maybe we can all go bouldering for her first birthday party...or she can go bouldering while I watch.

Watch out, world!

Chandler has been working up to crawling for a while now.  And then, at 33 weeks, something clicked and she was off.  And everywhere.

Despite all the warning she'd given us, we didn't have the house baby-proofed.  (In all honesty, we still don't, but Chandler hasn't managed to electrocute or poison herself yet.  Smart baby.)  Mark improvised.

Chandler protested.  Poor Chandler.

Thirty-Three Weeks

So pleased with herself, even if she isn't getting much water.

Happy Autumnal Equinox

Ah, the Autumn Equinox, when the light really is fading fast.  Lately, I've been feeling the need to get outside as much as possible.  We have enough indoor time staring us down in the coming months.  So, I didn't organize a project to honor the day, we just headed outside for some disorganized running around.

See the shadows?  This was taken at 5:33 p.m.  So soon it will be pitch black at 5:33 p.m.  Rage, rage against the dying of the light.  We rage by kicking a soccer ball around.

And Chandler hung out in her carrier.  

I suppose I could have let her out to "play" soccer too - she would have had a great time rocking on all fours in the grass and hollering in her sister's direction - but eventually this would deteriorate into eating grass and whatever else she can find.  No grazing for Chandler.

We finished up with a trip to the playground.  Frances is not overly keen on slides.  She's finally comfortable on straight, short slides, but not long, twisty ones.  I want her to learn to like them though, so I agreed to go with her.  And Chandler needs to learn to like them too, so....

And now we plunge into darkness.