Play ball!

Well, it took him more than five months, but Dad finally discovered a silver lining to getting up in the middle of the night to feed me. Last night, thanks to my ridiculously good timing, the two of us were able to catch the opening game of the Major League Baseball season – Mariners-A’s, live from Tokyo, at 3:10 a.m. Seattle time.

These days, I usually get up once a night to feed. (Maybe once a week, I’ll sleep straight through the night and let Mom and Dad get a full night’s sleep.) The actual time I wake up varies, but it’s typically between 2 a.m. and 4 a.m. Last night, I woke up at 2:45 – just enough time for Dad to feed me and change me, and then I sat in his lap while we watched the first inning of the game.

I didn’t realize it at the time, but Dad had gone to sleep hoping that I’d wake up around this time. Every few years, Major League Baseball starts its season with two teams playing in Japan, and each time, the game starts in the middle of the night on the West Coast. And each time it does, Dad wakes up so he can catch an inning or two before going back to bed. It goes way back to 2000 – the first time MLB scheduled a game in Japan – when he and one of his college roommates (my Uncle Bam) got up in the middle of the night to watch.

Now, I was born in late October, so this was my first introduction to the glory and impotence that is Mariners baseball. And I’d like to think that what I saw in one inning pretty much captures the team as a whole: Chone Figgins grounded out weakly, Ichiro legged out an infield single, Jeff Smoak struck out, and Felix Hernandez looked great on the mound. As Dad told me as we watched, that’s Mariners baseball in a nutshell.

Anyway, I was touched that Dad wanted to include me in his little tradition, so I graciously fell right back to sleep as soon as he put me back in my crib at 3:30. He also promised that he’d take me to at least a couple of M’s games this summer, once the weather warms up. So I did some research on just what makes a trip to the ballpark so great. I think the exchange below sums it up nicely:

Lisa: I can’t think of a better place to spend a balmy summer’s night than the old ball yard. There’s just the green grass of the outfield, the crushed brick of the infield, and the white chalk lines that divide the man from the little boy.

Homer: Lisa, honey. You’re forgetting the beer. It comes in 72-ounce tubs here.

Squash, anyone?

I passed another important milestone this past weekend. Boy, am I getting tired of writing that. I mean, when you’re a baby, virtually everything you do is a milestone in one way or another. Last week, for the first time, I started crying because my dad sneezed too loudly. Doesn’t mean I need to alert the media.

Sorry, I think I’m losing the thread of this post. And for the record, I do think that this latest milestone is a big one. On Sunday, for the first time in my life, I ate actual food. Not breast milk, not formula, not rice cereal, but real food. Or, at least, as real as you can call this:

What is this delightful looking treat, you may ask? Why, it’s squash, of course.

Technically, I’ve been old enough for this type of food for a couple of weeks now, but Mom and Dad hadn’t yet gotten around to feeding it to me. I wanted to assume that the delay was due to the fact that they were searching for a really delicious flavor to feed me for this maiden voyage. But I got stuck with squash, so there goes that theory.

Mom, in her infinite wisdom, decided I shouldn’t be forced to eat any of it unless Dad tried it first. So he had a tiny spoonful, choked it down, and told me (with a straight face) that it was delicious. I believed him, although I’m not quite sure why. This was the same Dad who dropped an iPad on my head on Friday. He doesn’t exactly engender trust. [Editor’s note: The alleged iPad only allegedly dropped from an alleged few inches, and it only allegedly hit her with a glancing blow. She stopped allegedly crying within a matter of seconds. Please don’t call CPS.]

Honestly? It wasn’t awful. And considering the food I'd grown accustomed to, it was just a thrill to eat something that had a flavor that couldn't be described simply as "white." I powered through about an ounce or so; or, at least, that’s how much made its way down to my belly. The rest I let ooze out all over my face and bib, which Mom and Dad thought was hilarious. We’ll see if they still think it’s hilarious at the dinner table when I’m 12.

Ready for battle.

 Yes, of course she did the 'Here comes the airplane' bit. It didn't help.

 Wait, what is this supposed to taste like?

How dare you?! 

Alright, it's not too bad. More, please.

Under the Sea

On Saturday, Mom and Dad took me on the first of what I expect will be many trips to the Seattle Aquarium. Considering that up to this point, my only experience with water had been sitting in a Puj tub while I got my monthly bath (kidding, it’s at least twice as often as that), this was quite an event. The sight of starfish, jellyfish, an octopus, seals, otters, and countless other sea creatures kind of blows the doors off of what I usually see when I look in the water: two chubby legs and a washcloth.

The three of us went with my Uncle Brian and Auntie Heather, plus my cousins Madeline and Addison. Interesting factoid: Dad says the last time he and Mom had been to the aquarium was about five years ago, when they brought Addison (who was just about my age at the time) and Maddie. Circle of life, or something.

We all met up at Ivar’s on Pier 54 in the early afternoon for a nice seafood lunch. Apparently I was the only one who caught the irony of this. Nothing like eating what you’re going to be oohing and aahing over later. Maybe next time we’ll eat some gorilla and then go to the zoo.

We all had a great time – especially Mom, who was able to cuddle with me all day while I sat comfortably in the Baby Bjorn. I had just one small meltdown, and luckily it was while we were inside the underwater dome and all the noise from other kids completely drowned me out. Turns out it was a tired cry, because I fell fast asleep not long after I started crying.

See below for a little photo essay of our day. I’m already looking forward to the next trip so I can visit my new underwater friends again. Having said that, if you think I wasn’t cautiously checking the water around me for sharks and jellyfish during my bath on Saturday night, you’re sorely mistaken.

Good times at lunch with Maddie.

Addison gets her face painted.

She got a dolphin. Maddie got an Orca, then spent much of the rest of the day
lamenting the fact that they are unfairly called killer whales.

Auntie Heather and Uncle Brian, look behind you!

As you can see, my 9-year-old cousin doesn't quite measure up to a Sixgill Shark, 

but at 4-foot-9, she's only 6 inches shorter than my 32-year-old mom.

Heading outside to see the seals.

Staying warm. Mom would like it known that I'm wearing very cute pants and shoes under that blanket.

You can't tell from the photo of this sea otter family, but the dad pretty much sat there doing nothing
while the mom did all the work with the baby. So like us!

Addison checks out a starfish.

Maddie had several staring contests with this fish, and lost every time.
She felt better afterward when she learned that fish don't blink.

The calm before the storm. I started crying about 30 seconds after this photo was taken.

I have no idea what these 'stick your face in the hole' things are actually called, 

but they're never not fun, for kids or adults.

Or babies, it seems.

After a long day, I earned this nap.