Christmas + New Year's Eve December 5 - 31, 2004 about an unfinished pre-Christmas holiday, our unjolly junior, Christmas and New Year

	Equipped by a baby, we qualify to visit with other baby-enhanced families (Ellen and Pája here).

	We like the desert at Joshua Tree. Tommy obviously prefers to be at home.

We ain't no fools to go on vacation during the Christmas break, haggle in desperately overbooked motels and press on with crowds. That's why we had planned our winter vacation for the week BEFORE Christmas. Our grand idea counted on a trip to Joshua Tree, to Hoover Dam and to Arizona -- I still haven't seen Meteor Crater and Petrified Forest. On the way we wanted to visit my long time climbing partner Pája, at the time living in the Los Angeles suburbs, and Richard, our virtual friend in Las Vegas, Nevada.

On Saturday we packed for all possible (and impossible) eventualities, and on Sunday we drove out southwards. Tom met our expectations and his sleep lasted almost all the way to Paso Robles. There we had a late lunch and attempted to tire our junior down at a local down town park. We obviously failed, for an hour later, at the intersection of highway 46 and interstate 5, he was squealing again. I wanted to take him into the shelter of a large gas station shop, but I had no chance -- from behind, trucks were arriving to pump fuel, and Tom simply headed there towards those wonderful big cars. Fortunately, the reddest and bestest truck had parked right at the curb, and we did not need to drag far. A driver with a thinned-out dentition melted under Tommy's admiring gaze and mentioned that he had a grandson just like that, then pulled another great attraction out of the cabin -- a lively, friendly puppy dog. Tom was quite ecstatic and if his boring parents did not insist on leaving, he would trod around there still today.

	Tommy expresses his displeasure with quality of the presented landscape.

	In the desert, one must replenish fluids.

For the rest of the route, we tried to entertain Tom in the car somehow, but eventually it had to be the milk bottle that worked. Reaching Paja's place, Tom became a bit more alert -- took interest in Christmas tree decorations, and flames at a fireplace (fortunately behind a glass door). Little Ellen did not draw his attention much -- he must still be of the opinion that adults have no business noticing any laying babies, and should play with Tom. He went to sleep in the evening without protests, as has been his habit, but our presence in the same room must have disturbed him at night (I admit that Hippo's snoring would shake to life even a thousand years old mummy), and so he began to scream at two a.m. and could not be quieted. In the end, entirely against the rules, he fell asleep with me in my bed, after we had evicted his noisy father to the living room floor.

Next day morning, we tried to make Tom comfortable - we took him on a walk to a local playground with slides and swings, hoping that we would tire our junior down and he would slumber all the way to Joshua Tree. We were almost completely successful -- Tommy slept right through the nutty traffic around Los Angeles. I must say that they drive differently in southern California. In a sixty-five limit, everyone drives eighty or more (around our place, people drive on average five miles per hour over limit), bumper to bumper, to the edge, no regards. When I needed to push into an exit lane, I naively turned on a turn signal and expected others to let me merge -- to my horror, through the corner of my eye, I noticed within a split second a huge SUV ramming into space which soon Sid on his passenger seat would occupy, so I bounced back into my original lane in the last moment. Thus I was forced to dust off my porky manners from my Prague driving times, to let us survive this journey.

Tom began to show signs of discontent when we were about to reach Palm Springs - we pulled through to Yucca Valley, where we had hard time finding some decent lunch place. Sizzler, slim as the choice was, seemed an OK solution, but Tommy remained bothersome. He poked at his food, we could hardly recognize our otherwise regularly merry and easy-going baby. We checked into a room in a motel right next door, tested it by changing our boy's diaper there, and proceeded to take him out into the desert.

	Lucky there's the little wall here, otherwise I could think you wanted to deprive me of all the comforts of our civilization!

	I know I must not walk out of the house without my shoes.

We expected our child to be grateful for the rough beauty of Joshua Tree -- I carried my imagination of Tommy merrily rolling among boulders and digging in the sand, but the youngling has decided that desert is a highly dangerous thing, and refused to leave parental embrace. On playgrounds, he usually runs up and down like a windblown rag, crawls everywhere, scared of nothing -- but nature does not impress him. He was happiest when we returned to our car. We would not give up so easily -- and rushed off, with Tom squealing on the back seat, to a view point at Keys View. Another heartbreaking scene ensued, as Tommy did not care to be separated from our vehicle. A low wall encircling the viewpoint calmed him down a bit -- and then his smile blossomed up, as he made a bee line to an aluminum bench, which had been planted there, an eyesore in the middle of a desert beautifully colored by a sunset. So I don't know -- our kid might be growing to become a lounge lizard, for whom an artificial Christmas tree represents an almost unbearable symbol of wild nature.

Tom's mood did not improve with returning to our motel. While we were contemplating various brutal solutions (stuffing plugs in our ears and letting him scream all night), I started feeling rather very ill. We had just managed a surprisingly tasty dinner at an unexplainably empty Chinese restaurant, and decided to retreat. With me exhausted, Tom unhappy, and with Sid tired of both of us in this state, the overall spirits just went for the dogs -- not exactly a good setup to spend "quality time with the family".

Morning found us driving back, we somehow missed our breakfast (except for Tom, who got his milk bottle in the car), and we befell Pája again by noon. By the time we had lunch Tom got a bit better -- I wonder if he understood that we were returning -- I think he did not whimper while we were eating. What followed felt like a movie going backwards... parking lot with trucks, screaming Tom, dinner and walking Tom on a square in Paso Robles, and my making a clown of myself in the last hour in the car, so that we could finish the last stretch without a siren going off in the child seat.

	Junior is choosing a Christmas tree

	All wheels must be controlled periodically, lest they fall off.

I was feeling slightly loony when I was unpacking rations prepared for approximately ten days of traveling, of which we used only a tiny fraction. Next on my list was ringing our neighbor that she would not need to collect out mail (we had forgotten to order a stop, so I had to embarrass myself at our neighbor's before we left), then telling Martin to stop worrying about our garbage cans (his task had been to pull them back from the street after collection), followed by writing to Richard that we won't be coming by, calling my doctor, and so on. Tom has grown his seventh tooth on the next day, and another one a few days later -- hence we may still hope that his obnoxiousness rooted in toothaches, and not in his hating the nature.

Sid has returned to work for a few days, but still we managed to complete various Christmas preparations. Like every year, we drove up to a tree farm in Santa Cruz mountains, this time on a beautiful, sunny day. Walking among the little trees has not caught Tom's attention -- he kept on looking for "brm brm" and when he spotted our car, we could not hold him back. We ended up sitting on a log and gazing at the pretty landscape, while our toddler trotted up and down a muddy road, patting all parked cars and pickup trucks. What a romantic Christmas!

Thanks to Tom and his strong insistence on three walks a day, we have now finally met most neighbors on our block. We also managed to review all varieties of Christmas decorations -- from none at all to giant inflatable Santa Clauses or illuminated, animated wire reindeer. We picked a sober, white color, unblinking, line of lights around the edges of our house. During installation, Tom liked a ladder the most. I truly did not expect that a child who just learned to walk in last two weeks, could climb this quickly up on a thin aluminum ladder step. An excellent moment -- Sid being up, he could not step down for that would mean treading on Tom's little hands; Tom being all excited how he achieved to climb. Was there a hereditary disposition to conquer heights at play?

	Great. Our kid has discovered the lure of muddy puddles.

Thus we were ready for Christmas to happen. On the evening before Christmas Eve, I was packing presents for Tom, and I have left wrappers open in the living room, just in case Sid would like to pack something too. He shocked me by responding that he had already packed. It added to the pre-Christmas tension -- I had stored Christmas wrap papers (thinking "they're only needed once a year") in an unlikely location and I had been quite sure that my Hippo would not find them. I also could not recall that he would ever request my assistance (where are scissors? do we have tape? etc.), and so I had plenty to ponder.

	First conscious encounter with a decorated tree (a year ago, Tom was only a laying baby).

Our Christmas Day brought a problem -- we had no pickles. I was actually glad to have to drive to Dittmer, a German butcher store, who carries good ones (I don't like standard American picking brine) -- I went there without Tom whimpering in the back seat. What a Christmas present! Dittmer is politically incorrect and he wished me Merry Christmas -- a pleasant contrast to all those brainwashees in large stores who fear to wish you anything more specific than nice holidays (in order to avoid oppressing somebody who does not celebrate Christmas, by wishing him all the best). We also went on a walk, and patched together a slightly extended version of our traditional potato salad, with a general idea of something tasty, baby friendly. Tom carefully picked potatoes from the salad in the end, so I'm not quite sure if our concerns were needed, but the salad was good. Neither of us craved fish, so we had roasted, smoked ham for a change.

	Tension during unwrapping.

My first glance at the presents under the tree solved all the mystery -- I did not have to ask which presents are for me -- those were the ones wrapped in merry flower-pattern wrappers, the kind we use for birthdays and parties. It also became obvious why Sid did not need to look for my carefully hidden Christmas wrappers.
Tom seemed to like Christmas, but he scrutinized our every move, when we unwrapped his presents, rather precautiously holding on to a reassuring bulk of one of the parents. Later he walked around and demanded explanation of every possible meaning and function of the presents. As if wanting to make us happy about everything, he subsequently played with every present, including those meant for us (he was, however, not permitted to play with a huge atlas of the world). Then of course, his big toy truck won and so we spent a part of the evening being like all other small children's parents -- sitting on a sofa, sipping drinks and watching our merry little one having fun. In the end I had to read Tom from his new book -- his favorite Happy Baby series. Tommy thumbs through the carton pages, wonders about every picture and requests my detailed comments with a quizzing "hele?". Then we figured there were enough excitements and did not insist on unwrapping the last toy truck (in addition one already unwrapped, a small toy car, and two book he has already gotten) -- so it stayed under the tree until almost the end of the year; I think that it was the right thing to do. We saved a nice moment for him for another ugly, rainy day -- the last truck is a "cement mixer" -- it has an easily detachable cement drum, which can then double as a toy barrel with a removable lid. Tom has been obsessing about opening all possible cans and bottles, but they are usually meant to confuse and distract children from opening them. A re-sealable barrel is a wonderful toy for him -- finally something designed with a lid that babies can remove and put back.

	Tom loves to have books read to him... this is a goat, goat says beeeeh.

We, too, got a Christmas present from Tom -- beginning with Christmas day, he began to ask for a spoon and since then he has been trying to eat on his own. Not that it would have much nutritional effect, although I hope that he shall quickly learn to eat without my help, relieving me from feeding this predator -- and I shall "only" have to clean everything within reach.

	Big truck with a load of Lego. Brrrm!

To find some inspiring, or at least entertaining program for Tom, became a challenge of our Christmas holidays. The last nice day was the Christmas day, so Sid and Tom went on a hike together with Martin, his wife Barbara and their kids Simon and Matt, but since the 26th we had a continuous bad weather -- cold, icy wind, rain, and unpleasant wetness. Playgrounds are soaked, park roads muddy, so we occasionally run out in our front yard, he yells his war roar "hele?" and rushes to splash in the nearest water puddle, soaking himself instantly from head to toes, and we go back home. As a whole family we went swimming ad visiting with friends; our desperation was so deep we even went to Monterey Aquarium during winter break. Naturally, several thousands of parents had had the same idea of entertaining their kids in otherwise very nice children's exhibition -- it was practically impossible to push through the crowds to the babies' playcorner, and we were quickly tired of defending Tom from bigger kids, whose nerves were already taxed by claustrophobic parents. Luckily, Tom gets easily amused even by regular displays -- colorful, live, moving fish and other parts of the underwater world fascinated him almost as much as a rotating logo projected on the floor.

	Tom is fascinated by fish in Monterey Aquarium.

Tommy actually enjoys shopping. At a grocery store, he likes produce department the best -- walking from one fruit shelve to another, pointing -- we have to tell him what is what, and look for "belly buttons" (stalks and other irregularities). He has learned his first lessons and since a large potato fell on his head, he pulls things from the bottoms of pyramids much less frequently. In other parts of the store, however, he must usually be confined in a shopping cart -- otherwise he would unload things from racks, push other people's carts away, and cause overall confusion and economic mayhem. He refuses to be walked hand in hand, demands to be released among the shelves and losing parent(s) from sight has no effect on him. When I just wanted to scare him a bit and hid behind a pillar, he found a young Chinese coupe and with a disarming smile explained to them that they were very nice and he would continue shopping with them from now on. I had to reveal myself and admit relations to a merry blond-haired baby before the couple could raise an alarm. They say that absence of fear indicates that a baby is growing up in a safe, loving environment, yet I started seriously considering a slightly stronger manifestations of my love (e.g., we could get a baby-leash).

	Happy New Year!

We got invited to spend the New Year's Eve at a friends' house -- Tommy soon found his way around and indiscriminately broadcast his affection to all the aunts and uncles -- i.e. by taking they hands and walking them to interesting corners, showing off cars and plastic fittings (this nice uncle lent him the most interesting toys -- miscellaneous construction leftovers). He broke on glass decoration (then gaped at it, disbelieving, for we don't have those at home), very intensely patted a great aquarium, climbed up half of the ladder, grabbed for a candle flame -- and eventually by eleven p.m. concluded there was enough excitement for the day and went to sleep. Our fire crackers after midnight woke him up a bit, but since aunts were excited to hold the baby (their "babies" watched movies in the up-ladder room and only occasionally descended to fetch refreshments), everyone won. He squealed a bit when we were getting back to our car (it was probably due to being rained on for a moment), but slept right through our arriving home and putting him to his bed; slept till his usual eight thirty. Thus I can declare it a successful new year's party.

Copyright © 2004-2005 by Carol & Sid Paral. All rights reserved.