Pear, Pear Everywhere

Imagine a food of such supreme flavor, such gustatory gravitas, that it overwhelms not just the tongue but the entire body. What could possibly satisfy such a fantasy? Surely not the simple pear, or so I would have thought this morning. In my life up to this morning I had never seen someone lunging at spoonfuls of pureed pear. I had never seen a practice of diminutive self-flagellation in the absence of continued pear supply. I had not seen a very little boy overwhelmed not just in his sense of taste but in physical body.

Today was pear tasting #2. I pureed four red anjou pears and froze most of the resulting mush in ice cube trays for the future. With about a 1/2 cup left, the feeding frenzy began. Half of it went down Thumper's throat; half was smeared in an irregular but complete covering over his body. He loved it, possibly to much. The scene evoked images of Roman gluttony (and more). Perhaps he will be a emperor (ceasar?) some day.

Big smiles all around

Thumper snored contentedly in D's lap, his first four hours of day care coming to an end. All my fears of tears and misery have lessened, run off to hide in the bushes of another day. D and I chatted for a bit, and then Thumper opened his eyes. The dimples dimpled. Cheeks puffed. Lips curled. All slow and brilliant as a sunrise. A smile just for me (but inevitably shared with everyone else; Thumper loves schmooze).

Day care appears to be a big success. We'll do half days again tomorrow and Friday to work out the kinks.

I feel rescued. Now for the next 108,283,472 items oon my "task' list.

Day Care Tomorrow

Thumper's first day without his moms comes tomorrow. Daycare, one of many right things that don't feel right. He will cry. I will cry. He will stop after a few minutes (I hope!). I will spend the day claiming to have just chopped onions. Please, please, please go well.

More tomorrow.

P.S., We did sneak over to the park today for swing #2. He still loves it: kicking, squirming, giggling. What was strange, though, was the rather pronounced tribalism at the playground. Three clusters segregated to different corners of the toddler pen: Chinese nannies, Latina nannies and moms (mostly but not exclusively Caucasian). Most interesting was the apparent segregation, though to a lesser extent, of their various charges. The psychologist in me is intrigued by the posible implications.

First Meal

After six months, the day has finally come: solid food for the Chubby Monster. He's been motivated for a while, recently taking to lunging at dinner plates (creating what I think of as a "zone of proximal destruction"). Based on the recommendations of friends, avocado won the honors of food substance #1. So, tonight I pureed up one avocado with a few table spoons of mother's milk until it looked like processed guacamole. The thought of chucks was too much for my over-protective heart. I'd actually spent a part of the day looking for a "first" spoon but, unsatisfied with the selection at various boutique stores, I ended up using a disposable plastic spoon that was twice the size of his mouth. That made the process tricky.


The first spoonful ended up in his left fist. The second spoonful was captured by his right fist. Several minutes of cleaning and devising a subtle arm constraint system later, spoonful #3 reached his mouth. Thumper even leaned forward and opened his mouth (thank you instinct). It was at this point that we both realized that he had no idea what to do next. For about 20 seconds, Thumper just looked around the room with a touch of puzzlement on his face.


My face likely showed anxiety or even terror as thoughts of a slimy, green Heimlich maneuver ran through my head. Eventually, though, his mouth started moving and some swallowing seemed to be happening. Most of the avocado ended up on his bib, but it seemed like some actual "eating" had actually occurred. So, we tried another bite and, with his hands incarcerated, another spoonful made lip fall. This time, the mouth started working right away, and most of the green seemed to have gone internal.

Now things were going great. He wasn't just eating (semi-)solid food; each bite brought more and more giggling. Very quickly, Thumper's laughter could only be silenced for another bite. Then, suddenly, it ended. "No more, thank you." Now I have a lot of pureed avocado with breast milk and a giddy urge to bring it in to lab meeting tomorrow with a bag of corn chips and a "help yourself" sign.

Into the Redwoods

For the last 18 months I've been traveling back and forth between Stanford and Berkeley, spending a day on the Farm, another with the Bears and the rest with Thumper. I learned too much about traffic patterns in the Bay Area and not enough about auditory scene analysis. So now, the Redwood Center will be my full-time home. I remain affiliated, funded and fond with, by and of Stanford, but for now its all theoretical neuroscience all the time. Yeah!

Ticklishness!!!

Finally, after months of waiting, Thumper has succumbed to ticklishness. He laughs and squirms. His eyes go all crescent moon. And if I stop, he gives me a "more, more!" look. I love being a mischievous mom!

Thumper goes for a swing

Who knew that a first swing could bring such joy.

Welcome to my talking

I finally decided to just get my own website and stop mooching off of various universities. So, welcome to www.vivienneming.com. It's been refined and updated... a bit. At the very least, this little blog will be a more amusing way to keep friends and family up to date.

There is second private blog, just something transitional for my own personal amusement. This one is strictly G-rated, however, and will welcome all comers.

Whoever you are, enjoy my words.