1 Year – There was Nothing Like It

(Despite good intentions and lofty promises, two months have passed since the last post.  For the sake of space and time, let us pretend we wrote this on January 2, 2009.)

New Year

As Cruv slept at home (his Imama and Abu next door), Yaron and Miriam waited for  the fireworks among new San Francisco friends, from the highest-perch of Diamond Heights.  As with the year prior, we held hands as the fireworks proclaimed the new year.  Unlike the year prior, our newborn who snuggled between us was now a toddler (yes, he toddles!) in a crib, in his room.  Cheers to a year-past, cheers for the year to come.

Bipedal, No-Pedals
Cruv’s cruised for a while, but he, uninitiated, began to stand without support from the couch or wall.  A few seconds of independence.
Update 12/2/08: Cruv stands for longer, and to his excitement.
Update 12/22/08: Cruv took a step.  As his Abba cheered, Cruv clapped.
Update 12/27/08: Cruv kinda took a few clumsy, forward-lunging steps.
Update 1/2/09: Cruv walks.  It’s amazing.  And he claps every time and gets the crowd going with him.  (Video on the next post.)

In other locomotive news, Cruv’s sleek, wooden, pedal-less, running-bike (thanks Imama and Abu)–actually, first a tricycle, then a bike–will let Cruv cruise the neighborhood, pushing with hit  feet.   The idea:  To build balance so he can ride his own two-wheeled and pedaled bike.

Bach, Tata, and Vroom
To his motorboat, Cruv added a fart sounds.  He tucks his lower lip under his top lip, tightens his chin, and let’s it rip.  Though we would like to, we cannot take credit for this one.
Cruv’s increased his letter range  (English and Hebrew–he has a great chet) and frequency.  He points and “speaks.”  When moved, he raises his arm and orates.  Birthday balloons and birds inspire particularly eager declarations–bach!  bach!

His utterances are not necessarily descriptive.  Sometimes Cruv just wants to play.  He’ll push his little blue car (thank you Imama and Abu) and mimic Yaron’s “vroom,” bang on a pot and sound-out arrhythmically, or grab our glasses and gloat.  Sounds are part of his play and play is a major part of his life:  He plays on his own, he plays with Rio, he plays with adults.  He plays hard at the park.  He initiates games and he plays-along.

Sick in a Sling
Though we learned the signs and care of a febrile baby, a snotty, sneezy,coughing, and febrile baby was a whole new experience for everyone.  Cruv indomitable good-spirit, heroic appetite, and generous night’s sleep were bested.  Consoled only by the sling, Cruv’s spent much of four days in there, as Yaron paced the dark hallway or strolled the Mission streets.  It took nearly another week, for the snot to stay home and Cruv to come-out and play.  Thankfully, Cruv’s Imama and Abu visited just in-time:  They relieved Yaron from early-morning duty, allowed Miriam daytime rest after all night rotations, and joyously cared for Cruv.  Just in time for his birthday, his sniffles were bested by smiles.

Fun-Guy and Other Culinary Observations
As Cruv’s teeth come-in (four bottom and two top), he becomes more-and-more another eater at the table, though watched by us with glee and pride.  His little fingers cannot keep pace with his fish appetite–from sushi to pickled sardines to poached halibut to whole petrale sole, Cruv eats an adult’s portion.  He chows on chewy button mushrooms, hen of the woods, shiitake, chanterelles, oyster, and king oysters, and slurps down matsutake or Oregon truffles suimono.  He smacks his lips for stinky cheeses.  To celebrate his birthday, he got his first spoonful of ice cream– homemade meyer lemon.  And, though breast is still best, Cruv’s bottles are now sometimes filled with raw cow’s milk.

Thirty-Three Candles
On day 352, Yaron and Cruv flew from SFO to LAX to see (and touch, as it turns out) Aunt Diane and Uncle Jeff’s art in a LA gallery.  Doda Li, too, was in-town, so we all watched Cruv consider Diane’s landscapes and manhandle Jeff’s metal sculptures–No one appreciated the kineticism more than Cruv.
Never to miss an opportunity to congregate and celebrate, nearly all our southern California family gathered for an early birthday party for Cruv.  Cruv ogled cousins Ethan, Max, and Zachary as they bounced of the walls and each other.   He chased his great-grandfather, Abba Eddie, who crawled with the speed and grace of a dancer.

He stared at the candle and devoured (read: demolished) his orange cupcake, made from Aunt Debby and Uncle Etan’s oranges and by Doda Li.

A few days later, joined by Ori, Betsy, and Joel (and Abby and Izzy via Skype), we lit the first candle of Hanukah and ate potato blinis with apple sauce.  On the phone or via Skype, we lit the next nine candles (nights two through four) with family far and wide.  We lit the last twenty-one candles of Hanukah (last three nights) with Cruv’s Imama and Abu.
So far–thirty-two candles.  We lit the last candle, Cruv’s birthday candle, the night after we put the Hanukiah away.

We decorated the room with cow udders (inflated hospital gloves) and introduced Cruv to uncultured cow’s milk–in this case, ice cream.

Our dining room was filled with people who have, in many ways, cared for Cruv.  Indeed, as new parents in a new city, they have taken care of us, too.
When all of the guests left, Yaron played the banjo and sang a song he wrote for Cruv.