Random Acts of Biscuit

Biscuit is doing some cool stuff right now, so I thought I would share.

Copy cat: Biscuit has started watching everything we do and say ... and he's copying it. The other night while I was sitting in my rocking chair, I took my socks off and rubbed my feet. Guess what Biscuit did? Yep. He sat down in the floor, pulled off his socks off and rubbed his little feet. Then as Jeff was drinking his coffee the next morning, he would take a sip and say, "Ahhhhhhh." Guess what Biscuit did when he took a sip of milk from his sippy cup? "Ahhhhhh!" He's also really enjoying a book called "The Very Cranky Bear" right now. His favorite part is when the grumpy bear roars. So every once in a while, he roars. Today, he roared at a day care teacher. Then he roared at me in the car. Then he roared from his high chair during dinner. Hopefully, the cranky part of the bear won't go along with the roar!

Car noises: Biscuit has started making car noises when he wants to ride in the car he got for Christmas. He also makes the noise when he's playing with cars.

And speaking of car: Jeff couldn't be happier because now Biscuit can say "ball" and "car." What more could a Daddy Man ask for than his son saying his two favorite words? The funny thing about Biscuit saying "car" is that he's just figuring out the "c" sound, so it sound like he's going to start speaking Yiddish or something. He extends the "c" sound, and it sounds like he's trying to clear something out of his throat. "Ccccccccccar."

Eat, eat: Biscuit loves to eat. There are definitely foods that he likes better than others, but just in general, the child loves to eat. When he gets hungry, he'll say, "E. E." (That translates to eat, eat). So you'll say, "What do you want?" And Biscuit will say, "Dat," while randomly pointing at nothing. So you give him something to eat, then you say, "Is it good?" And whether it is or isn't, Biscuit says, "Mmmm."

Double-fisting oranges: My Biscuit baby loves him some Mandarin oranges! I open the little cup of them and rinse off the syrup. Then I put them on a plate for him. As he sees me coming toward him with the plate, his arms start flailing and he makes this "uhhh-uhhhh-uhhh" sound, like he is absolutely going to die if those oranges don't get to him in the next 2 seconds! I put the plate on the tray of his high chair, and he goes to town. He grabs them two at a time, one in each hand, and shoves them in his mouth. Each piece gets chewed about twice and then down the hatch. He even has this little dance he does when he's really enjoying some kind of food. He moves his head quickly from left to right like he has a rubber neck. We named it "The Spoon Dance."

He likes to share: Biscuit likes to feed Jeff and me. When he has finger food, he always holds pieces out so we'll lean over and let him put them in our mouths. It sounds like a really sweet thing. And it is ... until you close your mouth and realize that the Cheerios you just got were already wet. Mmmm. Used Cheerios!

He likes for us to share, too: It doesn't matter how much he has to eat, Biscuit always wants some of what you have on your plate. You can be eating the exact same thing he's eating, and he won't eat it from his own plate, but he'll eat it from yours.

Questions, questions, questions: Biscuit has this noise he makes when you talk to him. It doesn't matter whether you're asking him a question or just saying something to him, his response is always the same. "Mmmmm?" Like he's saying, "What?" He's started doing it even more since he's learning words. Last night, I pointed to the stove and said, "Hot." He said, "Mmm?" I said, "Hot." He said, "Mmm?" I said, "Hot." And finally, he said, "Ha." And I said, "Yes, hot." It's like he has to hear and watch you say it several times before he will attempt to say it.

Ooooo, sparkly!: From the day he could make a fist and grab things, Biscuit has loved anything hanging around me neck. He always plays with my necklaces, but he especially loves my work ID. He grabs it, swings it around, and occasionally chews on it. Maybe one day he'll be able to BUY me sparkly things!

Babies, dogs and horses, oh my: The boy doesn't pay too much attention to the TV unless there's music on. Then everything comes to a halt. Then there's dancing. But the only things that will top music are babies, dogs and horses. Then he flails his arms, starts squealing and runs over to the TV to get a closer look. Of course, sometimes finding these things on TV can backfire. I flipped over to Animal Planet the other night to see what was on, and we saw horses hooked up to one-person buggies running around a rink. The boy saw the horses and went crazy. Then, all of a sudden, the HORSES went crazy. One horse went nuts and threw its rider out of the buggy. Then it took off and terrorized the rest of the horses and riders. People and horses were flying everywhere. And of course, the remote was nowhere to be found. I had to distract Biscuit with toys until we could get the channel changed. Luckily, he's only seen good examples of dogs and babies.

Bed time: When Biscuit starts getting sleepy, he playing with his hair in the back. He grabs a small piece and lets it slide through his fingers. If you're holding him when he gets sleepy, he'll grab your hair and do the same thing.

And speaking of bed time, it's mine. Good night!

Carbon monoxide emergency

A few weeks ago, we had quite a scare when our carbon monoxide detector went off, and we had to call the fire department, which told us we had to leave our house. Luckily, we still have friends who work the night shift, so having to call someone for a place to stay at midnight wasn't too bad. Luckily, one of our friends has a really nice guest room and was happy to let us stay with her. Thank God for generous friends.

Anyway, I wrote a column about it for the paper. Here it is.

--------------------------------------------------------------------------

Tuesday, February 16, 2010

Carbon monoxide detector worth the price for your life

By Kim Mills

We got kicked out of our house recently.

Our monthly mortgage was paid. And we weren’t throwing a loud party. Carbon monoxide was the culprit.

A colorless, odorless, tasteless gas required my husband and me to pack up our bags and our 1-year-old and head to a gracious friend’s house to spend the night.

Jeff and I were sitting on the couch, flipping channels, trying to make ourselves go to bed about midnight on the weekend of the big snowstorm, when a woman’s voice rang through our living room.

“Carbon monoxide warning,” she said and then repeated the phrase over and over.

Our first thought was maybe the batteries were dying. So Jeff grabbed a step-stool and changed the batteries. That seemed to quiet the voice, but just as an experiment, I stuck the old batteries in the TV remote control, and they still worked fine.

That was the clincher.

You can’t see or smell carbon monoxide, so the only way to be sure was to call the fire department.

We didn’t call 911 because we didn’t feel that we were in imminent danger, but apparently it’s protocol to run the sirens on the fire trucks anyway.

Jeff had barely hung up the phone when we heard the sirens. I couldn’t believe how fast they got to us, especially with the treacherous driving conditions.

We felt bad for probably waking the neighbors, and we felt even worse for dragging the firefighters out in the snow and ice for possibly nothing at all.

I had to laugh, because as the firefighters entered our house one by one, they carefully wiped their feet on the mat at the front door and lined up on a long throw rug so they wouldn’t make wet boot tracks on our floors.

So they were there to save us from danger, but they were not going to make a mess of it ... literally.

I was starting to get overwhelmed and sort of emotional, realizing that this definitely was not a test of the Emergency Broadcast System. Then I saw a huddle of fully-outfitted firefighters standing at the bottom of the stairs.

I walked over to try to eavesdrop on their conversation only to realize that they couldn’t figure out how to get the baby gate open.

And even after I opened the gate for them, picture someone with all that equipment trying to squeeze through an opening that is clearly not wide enough for him and the oxygen tanks he was wearing on his back.

Comic relief always seems to arrive just in time.

We have gas logs in our fireplace, a gas clothes dryer, a gas water heater and a gas heating unit. And those are the things that can produce a carbon monoxide overload.

The firefighters tested the air near every gas-operated thing we have and found that the readings on the carbon monoxide meter were 29 upstairs and 17 downstairs.

Jeff and I nodded our heads to the meter guy because we had no idea what those numbers meant and didn’t know what else to do. But looking around the room, I could see the firefighters looking at each other, and I immediately knew that those numbers couldn’t have been good.

One of the guys explained that for any reading over 9 parts per million, the house must be evacuated. Apparently, that’s enough exposure to give headaches and even flu-like symptoms.

Could that be why I had a headache all that day and had taken two long naps? I am not a nap person, and my combined naps had added up to several hours.

If it was having that effect on me, what damage could it do to our son?

The firefighters told us that the problem was most likely our gas heating unit, and we would need to have it looked at and fixed or replaced before we could go back home. We had to leave our house as soon as possible. They consider prolonged exposure to 100 parts per million to be deadly.

I know you can’t dwell on things, but every once in a while it hits me. Do you know what could’ve happened if that alarm hadn’t gone off?

The firefighters left about 12:30 am., and even though I considered calling our neighbors to let them know what was going on, I talked myself out of it, thinking maybe they were still asleep.

I was wrong.

We went back to the house the next day to pick up some more clothes, and we were scolded by the neighbors.

“You call us no matter what time it is,” our next-door neighbor said.

“Didn’t you see our faces pressed against the window like the neighbor in 'Bewitched’?” asked a woman who lives on our cul-de-sac.

It’s really nice to know that you have people you can count on. And I have a whole new appreciation of home safety devices, as well.

If you have gas logs, a gas heating unit or anything else in your house that runs on gas, please, please, please get a carbon monoxide detector. They’re not that expensive, and believe me, it’s money well spent.

Kim Mills, day desk chief, is very thankful to be safe and sound back at her home. Contact her at 373-7014 or kim.stacksmills@news-record.com

Parenting in public

Today I had to "deal" with Biscuit in front of a bunch of other mamas. This is the first time that's happened, but I can tell you that it's crossed my mind before about how I would handle it when the time came.

I try very hard not to judge other mamas because you never know what kind of day they've had or how bad a mood the kid is in or maybe even that the kid's personality qualifies him or her to be called "a handful."

But today, I proved to myself that I can do what's best for my son, everyone else be damned! Okay, it really wasn't that severe, but I'm still proud of myself.

Biscuit and I were at a baby shower this afternoon and when the hostesses sliced up the cake, I decided I'd share with him. I put Biscuit in my lap and gave him two small bites of cake. Then he hauled off and smacked me right upside the head. I was so stunned that it took me a minute to realize what happened.

I set him down on the floor and said, "You're done," and of course, he started crying.

I immediately felt my stomach flip as I realized several of the ladies were looking at me to see what was wrong with Biscuit. "He's okay," I said. "He's just mad."

"What happened?" asked a lady I didn't know.

"He hit me so he doesn't get anymore cake," I told her.

"Awww. Poor little man," she said.

"He has to learn." That was it. I didn't go into any further explanation. He hits, he doesn't get anymore cake. It's as simple as that.

I'll go ahead and say that I was proud of myself. I did what I needed to do, and I really didn't care what anybody else thought. I've always had tendencies toward insecurity, so I worried that if other mamas gave me "the look" or they said something critical about how I was handling a situation, that my first thought would automatically be that I was doing it all wrong.

But that didn't happen. I would bet money that even though I was nervous and worried, nobody thought twice about what was going on. Most of the women at the shower have kids. They've all been there. And now I have, too.

And the nominees are ...

I like to watch movie awards shows with Biscuit. The first awards we watched together were the Golden Globes (and yes, he was up way past his bedtime, but that's what happens when he takes a nap too late in the afternoon).

When the show first started, he was busy playing and didn't pay too much attention. But as he got tired, he crawled into my lap and started watching with me.

The next presenters came up, read their lines, then said, "And the nominees are ..." As the nominees' names were called out and the audience started to applaud, Biscuit started clapping with them.

He slowly got the hang of it, so every time the nominees were named, he clapped for them and said, "Yaaaaay!"

I thought it was a one-time thing, but a week later when the Screen Actors' Guild Awards came on, he was right back at it.

So maybe on the day of the Oscars, I'll get Biscuit to take a late afternoon nap so we can discuss the winners and losers. "Yaaaaaaay!"

Buttons everywhere

Almost every toy Biscuit has been given makes noises, flashes lights or plays music. So now, he's conditioned to push or twist anything that even looks like a button or knob.

So imagined how surprised The Daddy Man was this morning when Biscuit joined him in our bed and promptly reached over and pushed the button that is his nipple. Nothing happened. So Biscuit reached over and pushed it again. Still nothing.

That's when he reached over and twisted. "Ouch!" yelled The Daddy Man, and Biscuit laughed because the knob made noise, just like it should.

Then The Daddy Man said, "I don't mind when he pushes the buttons, but I really don't like it when he twists the knobs."

Say what?!?

We were at a restaurant last night, and toward the end of the meal, Biscuit was getting restless. So Jeff and I took turns walking him around the restaurant to keep him occupied.

There was a woman doing the same thing with her almost 2-year-old daughter. But as Jeff started talking to the mom, he realized that she had a heavy accent and her 2-year-old was speaking French. Apparently the were from France and the little girl hasn't learned English yet.

"Bonjour," she said to Griffin. "Bonjour."

Griffin just looked at her, tilted his head and said, "Huh? Huh?" Translation: "Do whut, now?"

We paid HOW much?!?

Biscuit started day care on Feb. 2, 2009, so basically he's been there one month shy of a year.

We can claim his day care on our tax return, so the day care office gives out payment statements in January.

Are you ready?

Do you want to know the total?

Now that I know, I wish I didn't. Where did we get all that money?

When I used to worry about whether we could afford to have children, Jeff always said, "People say you find a way to make it work." I doubted him until we got that statement.

Jeff said that the teacher of the Daddy Boot Camp class he went to told all the dads to just go ahead and accept the fact that a month of day care is equivalent to a monthly payment on a new BMW.

And on top of that, our day care is less expensive on average than many of the day care centers here.

Are you ready?

Do you want to know the total?

$7,005 ... Seven thousand and five dollars.

Where the heck was that money last year before Biscuit got here? I just keep thinking of all the things you could do, all the trips you could take, all the house payments you could skip if you had 7,000 spare dollars.

I guess the Biscuit is worth is. Well, MOST days he is, anyway!

$3.65 on my debit card

I've been sneaking out of the house to get away from my boys.

Actually, it's not as sinister as it sounds.

I have found a great way to get to the grocery store by myself. For the past few Saturdays, when I wake up (usually about 6:30 ... on the weekend!), I brush my teeth, throw on a sweatsuit, tennis shoes and Jeff's Buccaneers jacket, and I sneak out of the house. Then I'm off to Harris Teeter.

I'm usually one of only a couple of customers in the store. They're putting our fresh produce and restocking shelves. Everybody is friendly and extra-helpful. And I don't have to maneuver around other people and their buggies. Plus, no lines at the check out.

On the way home this morning, I decided to get biscuits from McDonald's. I got an Egg McMuffin for Jeff and an egg biscuit for me (knowing I'd be sharing my biscuit with my Biscuit). I was also talking to Mama on my cell phone. Don't worry, I'm not one of the rude people who talks on the phone while I should be placing, paying for or picking up my order. I made Mama hang on.

The total for my bill was $3.65. I opened up my wallet to find $3.42. I thought I had a 10 dollar bill, but then I remembered how I spent it the day before. So I used my debit card at McDonald's for $3.65. Three dollars and sixty-five cents on my debit card!

I've really enjoyed my secret trips to the grocery store. It feels sneaky and like I'm getting away with something. But I think if I do it again next week, I'll check my wallet for cash before I get in line at McDonald's.

I stuck to my guns

Biscuit is in the midst of an exploratory phase.

Actually, let me explain that a little bit better. Biscuit has to touch EVERYTHING, put EVERYTHING in his mouth and throw EVERYTHING in the floor.

He has also learned that there are actions he can take that will try my patience. And he performs those actions while staring straight at me, almost willing me to do something about it.

So I do what I'm supposed to do.

I say no. I sit him down when he stands on his chair. I take things away from him that he shouldn't put in his mouth. And I help him pick things up after he throws them in the floor.

But the odd thing that I've found is that it's really, really hard to say no, scold him and make him do what he's supposed to do and keep him from doing what he shouldn't. It hurts his feelings, and it hurts my feelings.

I didn't expect that. I didn't expect to have such a strong reaction. I don't remember my mama having a hard time saying no to me. But now I wonder if she did.

I also wonder how much Biscuit understands. Even though he can only say a few words, how many can he understand?

Biscuit's vocabulary is still limited to a few words, but believe me when I say the attitude is there already. I scolded him about something the other night, and he started jabbering and chattering back at me.

So I looked at him and said, "I don't know what you're saying to me, but I don't like your tone!"

He's a 1-year-old, and I told him I didn't like his tone!

Then the other night, he kept standing up in the chair he got for Christmas. I told him twice that he could not stand up in the chair. I said "sit down" several times. So finally, I said, "If you stand up in that chair one more time, the chair is going away."

Guess what he did? He stood up in the chair ... AGAIN!

So I set him down, grabbed the chair and started walking toward my bedroom, with Biscuit right behind me. I put the chair on top of my bed, out of Biscuit's reach but right where he can see it.

Then I headed back toward the living room. Again, with Biscuit right behind me, this time crying and fussing.

As I turned the corner into the living room, I looked back at Biscuit and said, "I don't make idle threats!"

I looked up at my smiling mother-in-law who said, "Do you think he understood you?"

And I said, "Probably not, but it made me feel better saying it. I did what I said I would do!"

Another reason to love day care

There are a lot of days that I think I would love to stay home with my Biscuit. But having a day care that we really like makes it so much easier to leave him.

And today, I found another reason to love day care.

I have a long history with kidney stones and had a flare-up last night. I wasn't able to go to work today, but Jeff got Biscuit ready as usual and took him to day care.

There's not a whole lot you can do for kidney stones besides hurt and wait them out, but sleeping most of today away certainly didn't hurt the situation!

I feel better. I feel rested. And I feel thankful that there are times I can hand Biscuit off to someone else and know that he'll be well taken care of.

A Biscuit's Gotta Dance

My Biscuit Baby loves music. And when he hears it, he can't sit still.

He got a cool activity table for his birthday from Grandma and Grandpa Mills, and it plays music ALL THE TIME!!! Luckily for Jeff and me, the music is actually pretty good.

Here's a video of my boy getting his groove on ...

Lessons to learn

I continue to be surprised at how much information Biscuit takes in on a daily basis. He has a seven-word vocabulary (Ma-ma, Da-da, Pa-pa, hey, bye, uh-oh and ball). He understands simple commands, such as “eat,” then runs to his high chair; “arms up” when I’m changing his clothes or putting his high chair try in place; “no,” not exactly his favorite word; and “come on” and he follows wherever you’re going.

And recently, he has figured out that to get off of furniture, he needs to turn over on his belly and slide off backwards until his feet touch the floor. These might not sound like big things, but to watch him learn these things has been amazing.

That said, there are still some very basic concepts that just don’t make sense to him. And of course, they provide many great laughable moments for Jeff and me.

For instance, the shower in mine and Jeff’s bathroom has glass walls. Biscuit cannot understand it when he walks over and sees water pouring down the glass wall, but he touches the glass wall and his hand doesn’t get wet. He touches the glass then pulls his hand away and looks at it, like, “Where’s the water? Why isn’t my hand wet?”

A friend of ours gave Biscuit a little basketball goal that makes noise when you make a basket. Biscuit now says and understands the word “ball” (see the last blog post for proof). So once he figured out that when you put balls into the basket, you get a cheer and a song, he was all about finding every ball he could to shove into the basket. The balls that came with this thing are a little smaller than tennis balls. So picture him bringing over a ball that’s about the size of a grapefruit, then having no idea why the grapefruit-sized ball won’t fit into a basket designed to accept tennis-sized balls.

His next step was figuring out that balls are not the only things that will fit through the basket. So he’s put trucks, barnyard animals, plastic scoops of ice cream, pacifiers and other things through the net. Yep, it all fits.

Everything for Biscuit is truly a learning experience. Let’s just hope that his learning experiences don’t include his Mama’s road rage or his Daddy Man’s pokiness!

To drawl or not to drawl, that is the question ...

With Jeff from New York and me from Georgia and South Carolina, we spend a lot of time talking about accents and turns of phrase. And just when we feel like we've covered all the differences in the way we and our families talk, a new phrase or saying will pop up.

One example is that Jeff wears his old sneakers to mow the lawn. I wear my old tennis shoes to cut the grass. So we wonder what bits and pieces Biscuit will pick up from each of us.

So far, he says "Dada," "Mama," "bye," "hey" and "uh-oh."

This morning, as soon as I set him down from his bed, he started walking around saying, "Papa, Papa, Papa." That's how we refer to Grandpapa Stacks.

I called Grandmama and Grandpapa Stacks to let them hear what he was saying. Sadly, Papa wasn't home, but Grandmama heard him. I asked her if we could hang up, then I'd call back and let Biscuit say "Papa" on the answering machine. So of course, once the answering machine picked up, Biscuit started whining and wouldn't say anything.

Then this evening, when we got home from day care, Biscuit started attempting to say "ball." He's so funny trying to twist his mouth to copy what we're saying to him.

And if there was any doubt about whose accent he's going to have, check out this video ...

Tackling the spoon

To move into the toddler room at day care, Biscuit has to be able to feed himself. So as much as I'd like for him to stay with his current teachers in the infant room, I figured we'd better get to work.

Here's how he's doing so far ...

The tantrum heard 'round the world

When we were in S.C. for Christmas, Biscuit got to play with his cousin's snare drum. He seemed like a natural. He took the sticks in his hands and just banged the daylights out of the head of that drum. He only hit the rim a few times.

What I failed to remember is that he also got called down several (okay, many) times for hitting things OTHER than the drum with the drumsticks. He hit furniture, he hit toys and yes, he even hit a couple of people.

So that was the end of his drumming career.

For some crazy reason, the only part of the experience that I remembered was how easily he took to playing the drum and how much he seemed to enjoy it. I totally blocked out the flying sticks. So in Target last week, I saw a drum similar to the one he played and bought it.

It was actually a music kit. It has a snare drum with two drumsticks, a tuning key and a strap if he wanted to wear it like the little boy with the bandaged head in the Revolutionary War painting. It also included a tambourine, an ocarina and a harmonica, all of which I decided he could have when he gets a little older.

So while The Daddy Man was changing Biscuit's diaper, I took the drum out of the box, set it in the living room floor and propped the sticks on top. Grandma and Grandpa Mills were here, and I thought they'd enjoy watching him play it, too.

We sat around and waited until we heard the pitter-patter of little feet, and then he saw it! He grabbed the sticks and went to town. He banged and banged and banged. Our little Ringo!

And then my memory started to return. In his excitement, Biscuit ran toward me grinning from ear to ear but also waving those drumsticks in the air. So imagine my surprise when in his glee, he smacked me in the head repeatedly with the drumsticks before I could even figure out what was going on.

As soon as I gained my bearings, I grabbed the sticks from him and said, "NO!" (probably a little louder than I needed to).

What happened next just blew me away. Epic tantrum! A tantrum like we've never seen before! A tantrum to END ALL TANTRUMS!!!

He flung himself in the floor, flailed his little arms about and started screaming like someone was chopping off his little Biscuit head. I was in shock.

I have never experienced this behavior from this particular child, and quite frankly, I had no idea what to do. So I just sat there. I thought if I just sat calmly and stared at him, he would see that he wasn't going to get a reaction from me.

And if the Biscuit's fit wasn't enough on its own, I had to get onto The Daddy Man for pointing and laughing at Biscuit! He thinks it's funny when little kids pitch a fit because they didn't get their way. "YOU ARE NOT HELPING THE SITUATION!" I scolded.

Watching Biscuit go through his tantrum was the hardest thing I've had to do in quite some time. I wanted to grab him up and squeeze him and tell him I was sorry for being mean and taking those drumsticks away.

But I kept saying to myself, "It's for his own good. You cannot and will not raise a bratty child. You will say no to this child when necessary."

Finally, it ended. The whole episode had shaken me up so badly that I had to leave the room for a few minutes.

When I came back, the first thing I did was make eye contact with my Biscuit Baby. He came over and crawled up into my lap, and I knew everything was okay. I also knew that as hard as it was, I can do what needs to be done to teach him.

And of course, not that I would admit it to them (not to their faces, anyway) but I keep thinking, "Wow. My parents went through this same thing with me all those years ago." I wonder if they're desperate to say "I told you so!"

Belated Christmas letter

I didn't have time to write personalized messages on our Christmas cards. We have a pretty extensive list of people we send cards to.

But if I had had time to do it, here's what our Christmas letter would've said:

Dear Family and Friends,

We had a good year this year. We spent lots of time with family and friends, and Jeff and I both still have jobs.

The fall and winter are the busy months for Jeff. He covers college football and basketball for the paper and where we used to have 7 reporters, now Jeff is it. He covers Duke, N.C. State, UNC, Wake Forest, Guilford College, Greensboro College, UNCG and N.C. A&T. So needless to say, he's been pretty busy since August and will be until the Final Four plays out in April.

Grandma and Grandpa Mills made two trips down instead of one this year. They came down in May, and we took a quick beach trip, which was Biscuit's first. We were glad they got to spend some extra time with us.

We took a couple of camping trips with my side of the family. We went to Chimney Rock and Lake Myers. Well, to clarify, my brother and his family stayed in a camper. Grandmama, Grandpapa, Jeff, Biscuit and I went the hotel route. I like that a lot better!

Biscuit has accomplished all sorts of feats and his personality has become so much more evident. He's walking, eating table food and learning some basic words (Dada, Mama, bye, uh-oh - even though it sounds more like uh-uh). We've found out that he likes to play in water, he can't hear music without dancing, he loves to play with our hair or his hair when he's sleepy and he doesn't usually meet a stranger.

Like I said, we've had a very good year. And we're hopeful that this new year will bring even more good stuff!

New Year's Eve

My definition of a good New Year's Eve has changed over the years.

It used to be that we'd spend two weeks doing research on who was going to have the biggest party, what the price of a ticket included (food, drinks, noisemakers, etc.) and who would have the best "midnight event" (balloon drop, free champagne, etc.).

But this year, here's what made me happy:

1. I finished up at work a little early and went to Target and the grocery store BY MYSELF before I had to pick up Biscuit. Being by myself at those stores doesn't happen a lot anymore.
2. I came home to a tasty home-cooked meal, prepared by SOMEONE OTHER THAN ME ... namely, my mother-in-law.
3. I was actually able to stay up until midnight. The past year has not included a lot of sleep, so staying up even past 10 p.m. is a big deal for me!
4. And last but not least, Jeff got home from covering a college basketball game at 11:55 p.m., just in time to wish me a Happy New Year and give me a kiss.

Happy New Year, everybody!

Christmas morning

Biscuit didn't know quite what to think on Christmas morning. I got him to follow me up the hall, then about halfway, I ran ahead and turned the video camera on him.

He rounded the bottom of the staircase, and took a look at the big red and yellow Little Tykes car that was sitting under the tree. He looked at me, he looked at the car. He looked at me, he looked at the car. Then he did an about face and walked right back up the hall looking for Da-da.

Jeff finally carried Biscuit back into the living room to check out what Santa left him. He got books, a chair, clothes, big Lego blocks and the Little Tykes car.

It took a while for him to take in everything, but with his gifts from Santa, plus gifts from family and friends, our little Biscuit is having quite a time with all his new treasures.

Christmas photos

Here are a few Christmas photos.

We're a family

Even though Biscuit has been around for a little over a year now, it still sometimes amazes me that we're a family now instead of a couple.

There were several things during the holidays that reminded me of our family status ...

1. We took a family photo for our Christmas cards.
2. We went to the Festival of Lights together.
3. We got a Christmas ornament with three bears on a sled with a place underneath to write "Daddy, Mama and Griffin, 2009."
4. I ordered stockings with our names embroidered on them.

Being a family is a very, very good Christmas present.

What do I do with it?

As the Christmas season started, Biscuit just wasn't sure what to do when someone handed him a wrapped gift.

He would stare at it, then look at me for guidance. I would start to unwrap it, thinking he would get the idea and help, but he would just watch me until it was unwrapped, then he'd take the toy away from me and go play.

I was pretty excited when I handed him a present from a couple Jeff and I are friends with, and he immediately started poking at the paper. I punched a hole in the package and set it on the coffee table.

Here's what happened next ...

NOW he knows what to do with a wrapped present!

Rest In Peace

Biscuit has experienced his first real loss.

Let us observe a moment of silence for Mr. Colander ... May he rest in peace.

Mr. Colander was the first and favorite piece of Tupperware that Biscuit discovered. It was always the first thing he'd grab out of the cabinet.

Mr. Colander got Biscuit through his first teeth by acting as a giant teething ring. But Biscuit's teething comfort was Mr. Colander's ultimate downfall.

One day a few weeks ago, I found a piece of white plastic in the kitchen floor. I couldn't figure out where it came from, so I just threw it away.

A few days later, I found another piece of the same plastic. It was on the floor about 6 inches away from Mr. Colander. That's when I realized that Mr. Colander was falling apart. It was time for him to go.

Here is a photo in remembrance of Mr. Colander.

A New 'Do

Biscuit was starting to look like a little hippie. So we decided it was time for his first haircut.

Jeff said he'd just take him to the barber he goes to, but I wanted his first haircut to be special. I considered taking him to one of the salons that specializes in kid haircuts, but decided that the lady who cuts my hair would be the way to go.

I made back-to-back appointments for Biscuit and me. I also asked Jeff to come along so he could hold Biscuit on his lap while I took pictures.

We had no idea how Biscuit would react. But as usual, he was pretty laidback about the whole thing. He really enjoyed all the stylists and customers making a flirty fuss over him. He grinned and blinked his eyes at them.

My stylist put a drape around Jeff to keep the hair off him. Then she put a cute little green drape around Biscuit.

She started snipping, and I started snapping. I was also holding a Ziploc bag while the stylist handed over little tufts of hair.

Biscuit was a trouper. He sat still until the stylist was done. Then when she got him to stand up on Jeff's lap for the final touches, he was amazed by his own reflection in the mirrors on both sides of the salon.

In a very short time, he went from a long-haired baby to a styled little boy.

A visit with The Big Man

We refer to Jeff as "The Daddy Man." But Biscuit recently had a visit with "The Big Man."

Yep. We went to see Santa Claus.
























Grandmama and Grandpapa Stacks were up for a visit from S.C. on the weekend we decided to go. The boys decided to skip our shopping trip and just meet us later for lunch a the Santa visit.

When I was looking for a Santa for Biscuit to see, several co-workers and friends told us where to go. This man has been helping Santa for 30 years. They all said he is really patient and really kind to the kids. Plus, you can take your own camera to take pictures. And that is what really convinced me. I knew I could get the exact pictures I wanted.

So imagine my dismay when we sat down for lunch and Jeff realized that he had forgotten the camera. The restaurant was about 15 minutes from home, so Jeff left lunch early and went to get the camera. We decided to go over to the shopping center and get in line for our visit.

Imagine our surprise when we got there and there were no other kids or families there. There was no line. Santa and his helpers were standing around just waiting on someone to show up.

They kept looking at us, I guess they were wondering what we were waiting for. So finally, I said, "We're waiting for my husband." Santa looked up and said, "Take your time. I'm just stretching my legs."

I started walking around and saw a sign that said, "No cameras allowed." Of course, for the first time in 30 years, they decided to get a contract with an online photo site.

So here we were waiting on Jeff to drive 15 minutes home to get the camera. Drive 15 minutes back. Park in the madhouse parking lot of a large shopping center. Make his way into the building where Santa was, only to have me tell him that we couldn't even use the camera.

I decided to use my cell phone and tell him about the no-camera sign while he was on his way back. That way, he'd have time to get over being mad at me before he got back to where we were.

Jeff finally made his way back to where we were. We took Biscuit up to where Santa was standing, and Santa started talking to him. I took Biscuit's hand and rubbed the white fur on the front of Santa's outfit. Biscuit just kept looking him up and down, checking out whether he wanted anything to do with him or not.

Finally, Santa went back to his chair and sat down. I took Biscuit over and put him on Santa's lap. Then Santa's helpers started snapping photos. Biscuit, a normally very smiley baby, did not crack a single smile in a single picture. He was tired and sleepy and ready to be home.

Finally, he just leaned his little head back against Santa's chest and stared at the ceiling. He had a look on his face like, "Would you people please hurry up so I can go to sleep?"

We decided that since we couldn't get a smile out of him, we'd choose the photo of Biscuit and Santa looking at each other.

Their visit must have been okay because Santa was certainly good to Biscuit on Christmas morning!

Festival of Lights

Every year in early December, Greensboro has a Friday night of music, food and tree lighting called Festival of Lights.

Ever since Jeff and I have been together, we've never both been off work on that Friday. But this year's Christmas miracle was that we were both off work with no other plans on the night of Festival of Lights. I knew it was going to be cold and crowded, but I told Jeff that even if we were there for 10 minutes, I wanted to go.

So we left our car in the N&R parking lot, hauled Biscuit's stroller out of the trunk, bundled up and walked a couple of blocks to the festival.

Remember that kid in "A Christmas Story" who said, "I can't put my arms down!" Well, that was Biscuit. Check us out.

We left the Festival of Lights and went to a Candle Tea at a co-worker's Moravian Church. Church members dress up in traditional Moravian clothes and they sell crafts, candles, wreaths, chicken pies (made by the church ladies), sugar cookies, sugar cake and other baked goods.

There's a building beside the church that they call the tavern. When you go in, there's a big fire place, a Christmas tree with old-fashioned decorations and lots of candles. They serve pieces of sugar cake and a really sweet, milky coffee. That's a traditional treat for them.

Biscuit missed all of it. He saw so much at the Festival of Lights, that he fell asleep in the car on the way to the Candle Tea.

I couldn't figure out a way to get the sleeping baby into his coat, so I just put him on my shoulder and covered him from head to toe with a thick Winnie the Pooh blanket I had in the car. You could tell there was something draped over my shoulder, but you couldn't see hide nor hair of a baby!

There was a live manger scene in front of the church, including a cute miniature donkey. As I walked past the angel, a man did a double-take and the blanketed bundle in my arms.

"Did you just steal Baby Jesus?" he asked with a smile.

"Yep. I'm taking him home with me," I answered.

We continued on our way until we saw everything there was to see. As we were leaving, I told Jeff that I hate Biscuit wasn't awake so he could see the donkey. Just as the words came out of my mouth, his little head popped up.

I showed him the donkey and with his sleep little eyes, he didn't look too sure about what he should think. I leaned him down and put his hand on the donkey's mane. He felt it for just a second and then jerked his hand back and shot me a look that said, "Why on earth would you make me do something like that?!?"

It was a long, cold, busy night, but it was the first time we had done something like that as a family. It got the Christmas season kicked off right.

Up your nose with a ... finger?

Biscuit and Jeff were in our bed one morning while I was taking a shower. I had propped pillows around Biscuit and he had fallen back asleep. So Jeff decided he'd go back to sleep, too.

As I came out of the bathroom, I saw Jeff shaking his head laughing.

"What's so funny?" I asked.

Jeff said, "Someone woke up before I did and must've been a little bored. I woke up to the feeling of one little finger in each of my nostrils."

What's the old saying? You can pick your friends and you can pick your nose, but you can't pick your friend's nose? I guess it's not true after all!

A different kind of bath

The Daddy Man is too tall to give Griffin a bath in the bathtub. So I guess being short has some advantages. I can kneel beside the tub to get the job done.

So when The Daddy Man volunteered to give Biscuit a bath one morning, I was more than a little curious to see how he was going to do it.

Jeff decided that the only water-holding receptacle that would work for him was the kitchen sink. Of course, it didn't occur to him that he should scrub the sink before he stuck Biscuit in there. So I took care of that and made sure the water was warm enough.

Biscuit loves taking a bath. So I figured as long as he was surrounded by water, he'd be fine.

I was wrong.

He did not like the kitchen sink ... at all!

Witness the look on his face. It's like he's saying, "What did I ever do to deserve this?!?"

He's got what, where?!?

WARNING: This blog post includes what may be graphic language to some people! Or it might just be in bad taste to share this, but hey, isn't it the mama's job to embarrass the kid? :)

You know a morning isn't starting well when you hear The Daddy Man say to Baby Biscuit, "Dude! You've got grits on your weinie!"

Biscuit's a funny little man

A post from The Daddy Man:

Kim had to work Saturday, so the boy and I stayed home. I had a bad cold, and Biscuit had gotten himself a raging case of pink eye. Needless to say, it wasn't a fun day.

Biscuit couldn't decide whether he wanted to be held or put down to walk around on his own. He was sleepy but he didn't want a nap.

As I surfed the TV channels looking for something to watch, I came across a bluegrass quartet singing on a public access channel. Biscuit stopped right in front of the TV and didn't move a muscle until the group had sung two whole songs.

And then when the third song started, Biscuit walked over to the piano and while still looking at the TV, he started playing the piano with one little hand. I think my boy likes music.

Then later in the day, some church kids came around selling candy bars. So Biscuit followed me to the door and was all excited about seeing the little kids.

After I gave them my dollar, I closed the door and Biscuit watched the kids walk back up the sidewalk. He was tapping his hands on the glass, talking to the kids as they were leaving. But once they rounded the corner and he couldn't see them anymore, he sat down on the floor and just wailed. He was inconsolable.

I guess he thought they would stay and play or something, but it was clear that he was not ready for them to go away.

He's a funny little man.

Chairs are great!

Biscuit has learned recently that chairs are great. He has figured out that it's fun to figure out how to get your rear end planted in one to sit down for a while ...

And, he's learned that if nobody is watching close enough, you can also finagle your way into STANDING UP in chairs, too!

HE BIT ME!!!!!

My Biscuit has 6, count 'em, 6 teeth now. And he's learning how to use them on all sorts of things, including furniture, coasters, toys, clothes, sippy cups, food and most recently ... MY FINGER!!!

Here's the proof (and don't look at my horribly dry cuticles!):

School pictures

Can you believe that they take school pictures even in the infant room at Biscuit's day care? This is actually the second time he's had them taken. They do some in the spring and some in the winter.

I asked the teacher if they propped his hand up on that sleigh in the first picture, and she said not only did he prop his hand up on his own, he also crossed his feet like that. I guess he's so used to having a camera stuck in his face that he knew exactly what to do!

Here's our Biscuit, posing for the photographer.

He won't go nekkid, Part 2

Back during the spring, I wrote a post about all the clothes Biscuit had. We have several hand-me-down hookups, and we were very lucky at our showers to get clothes in various sizes up to 18 months.

Biscuit is still small for his age, so he hasn't gone through clothes as fast as a lot of kids do. He turned a year old on Nov. 9, but he's still wearing a few 9-month size outfits. Most of what he has now is the 12-month size, though.

Biscuit seems to be built like Jeff. He has a long torso and shorter legs. So we have to cuff most of his pants so they won't drag the floor and trip him.

So here's the update. In the 12-month size, Biscuit has:

- 47 pairs of pants
- 32 shirts/onesies
- 19 pairs of pajamas (8 pairs of the fuzzy warm ones for winter)
- 6 jackets and 2 heavy coats

I guess he won't go nekkid this winter, either.

One of my friends is having a baby in early December. I was telling her husband about all the clothes Biscuit has, and then I said, "Do you know what that means?" He asked what, and I said, "It means that next winter, YOUR baby will have 47 pairs of pants, 32 shirts/onesies, 19 pairs of pajamas, 6 jackets and 2 heavy coats!"

Grits and eggs are a requirement!

I had hot chocolate and popcorn as a snack this afternoon, and it took me back to my childhood.

After church some Sundays, my girlfriends and I would go home with each other to spend the afternoon. And at one particular friend's house, her mama always made hot chocolate and popcorn for us to have while we played Barbies.

Then I started wondering what foods would take Biscuit back to his childhood when he's older.

He's doing better with his eating. He hasn't had a bottle in almost a week, and he just hasn't seemed to mind. He loves drinking milk from a sippy cup, and he's getting better at chewing.

Ms. Terri at Biscuit's day care does all the cooking, and she is super excited that Biscuit has started eating some of the regular food at lunch time. One day he ate two chicken nuggets, a few bites of corn and some peaches. Then another day, he had chicken and rice, green beans and applesauce. I'm not sure why Ms. Terri has taken such a liking to our boy, but she makes quite a fuss when I take him in every morning.

She laughed last week because I told her that on rainy nights, Mama would often make breakfast for supper. We'd have grits, eggs and bacon. She said her family did the same thing. So on a rainy night last week, I cooked grits and eggs for us.

I chopped the eggs up into little pieces and stirred them in Biscuit's grits. Then I used one of his little spoons and started to feed it to him. I'm not sure if it was the mixing of textures or what, but he would reach into his mouth with two little fingers, pull out the pieces of egg and swallow the grits right down!

I told Ms. Terri about it, and she said, "Oh boy. We need to fix that. You HAVE to eat grits and eggs." I agree!

I'll keep working on it.

Happy Birthday, Biscuit!

I wasn't sure what we should do for Biscuit's first birthday. I didn't know if I should have a party for his day care friends and some other babies he spends time with or if I should invited a few of my friends over or if it should just be me, Jeff and Biscuit hanging out at home.

I was leaning toward the last choice, because let's face it, Biscuit wasn't going to know the difference. But I was quickly told my Mama and my sister-in-law that there would be a party of some kind.

So finally, I figured out a quick and easy way to do it. Samantha's birthday is only a week away from Biscuit's. So on the weekend we went to S.C. for Samantha's party, we could also throw Biscuit a gathering with just family. Samantha's party was on Saturday, and I figured since everybody comes to Mama's house to eat on Sundays, that we could just add a cake and some presents onto the end of the meal.

I made a small cake just for Biscuit and covered it with Cool Whip and a couple of spots of icing. Then I made a regular cake for the rest of us to eat. I found this cute little decoration kit for a high chair. It included a plastic floor mat to catch flying cake and a first-birthday banner that went around the edges of the high chair tray. Someone had given him a My First Birthday bib, so with all of that in place, we were ready for a party.

I put his cake in front of him, and at first, he wasn't sure what to do. Then he stuck one finger in the Cool Whip and brought it to his mouth. He decided it was pretty good, so he went back for more. He ate pretty much all of the Cool Whip off first, then he beat the daylights out of the cake part with his little hands.

After cake, we stripped him down, cleaned him up and put him in a new outfit. Then we took him into the living room to open presents. As with the cake, he wasn't sure at first what to do with the presents. And that's where the cousins came in. They helped him unwrap his gifts, and then came playtime.

He took a push-toy he got into the kitchen, and when Jeff went to check on him, he yelled to the living room, "I think the boy wants more cake." I asked why he thought that, and Jeff said, "Because he's eating the pieces that fell on the floor!"

Oh well. Maybe he'll get some manners before his second birthday!

My Halloween Monkey

I've got so many Biscuit blogs to write that I had to make a list. I figured since it's already late into November, we'll back up and talk about Halloween.

I hadn't planned on doing Halloween for Biscuit this year. He couldn't eat any candy he got while trick-or-treating. He couldn't wear a mask or any makeup. Prime time for trick-or-treating was right around his bedtime. And with the flu floating around everywhere, I didn't really want to expose him to all those people.

But I was in Walmart and they had these cute little costumes that were made like footed pajamas. Plus, they were on sale for a really good price. So I couldn't help myself. I bought Griffin a little monkey suit!

I still didn't want to take him from house to house, so I asked Jeff to bring him into the office the Friday afternoon before Halloween so I could show him off.

So here's my little Halloween monkey.

Oh yeah? Back atcha, lady!

The road in front of Biscuit's day care is a busy four-lane street with a turn lane in the middle. The problem is that you have to get into that turn lane just after passing through an intersection. And there are those oh-so-nice drivers going the other direction who get into the turn lane about half a block before the intersection and often have to swerve back out of the turn lane to keep from running head on into us.

They desperately want to make a left at the intersection and don't seem to understand why I need to be in their way in the turn lane.

I've complained about this from the first day I took Biscuit to day care. Jeff has empathized with me, but he had never experienced it for himself until last week.

He offered to take Biscuit to day care one morning when I was running late, and I took him up on it. Jeff said he turned on his blinker and pulled into the turn lane. As he looked up, this old white station wagon was barreling toward them, moving gradually into the turn lane. He said he was starting to get nervous because the car wasn't slowing down fast enough.

Finally, the station wagon came to a stop right in front of his car. Behind the wheel was an 80-year-old woman. Jeff smiled and motioned to the day care center to let her know why he was where he was. And she just stared at him and sat there. So he motioned again, and this time even mouthed the words, "I'm going to the day care center."

I'm not sure if the woman was half-blind and couldn't see what Jeff was trying to tell her or if she was just mean, but the next thing Jeff knew, that little old lady's arthritic middle finger popped up from behind her steering wheel. Then she yanked the wheel of her car back into traffic almost getting plowed by a truck.

Jeff was so stunned by her actions, he didn't know whether to be mad or just laugh at her. I guess there isn't an age limit on road rage.