"What big teeth you have, Red Riding Hood," said Granny.

Names

I am actually a week older than this photo. (by Vicky Leon)

I like to hear what people name their children. Last week, Soleil Moon Frye - with a moniker like that growing up, wouldn't she have learned? - had a daughter, whom she named Poet. I like to tell a story about being at a party in Melbourne, which also included two kids and two dogs. The dogs were called Max and Harry, while the kids were called Sheriff and Pony. Today, I went to a music class with Julian, and half of the kids had these new millenium-type names: Tyler, Riley, Piper. There's a little girl in one of my mother's groups named Sunday. Names preoccupy me.

After toying with names like Ziggy and Jesse (the latter is now so 2004), we decided on a very proper name: Julian. I think of all the celebrities who named their kids Julian. John Lennon. Bob Marley. (Go figure: he had a Ziggy and a Julian.) And Jerry Seinfeld. I kept thinking that Jerry, a New York Jew, and me, a former New Yorker and current Jew, had the same sensibilities. Only he went and had a son this week, and named him Shepherd. Shepherd! Sure, this is better than calling your son "Pirate", as happened earlier this year when Korn's lead singer Jonathan Davis named his son, but not by much.

I still like the name Julian, even though I am now realising that my son will probably be about ten before he can pronounce his own name. (The letter 'J' has never rolled off his tongue before, I don't think.) I still like it, even though my mother finds it an impossible name to make an endearment out of; the best she can do is "Juliankele." I still like it, even though someone recently told us that "Jules" is a girl's name. I still like it, but better still, I love the little boy who owns it.

I always said he takes after me

Looking upwards (August 23 by Vicky Leon)

Julian learned to clap yesterday and now claps on demand. He also crawled three steps up on all fours (as opposed to his usual commando style). And, when I spoke about the "mezuzah" in front of him at my mother's house, he looked at her doorpost and blew a kiss (because we kiss the mezuzah on his bedroom doorpost every day). All of which led my mother to pronounce him a genius.

am I happy?

Freeze Frame

Julian and mummy - Aug 23 by Vicky Leon

Earlier this week, we got a series of professional photos done, by a woman who is just starting out in the photo biz. And I couldn't be more pleased! It's lovely to freeze-frame a moment in time, because those moments are getting harder and harder to pause. Life moves so swiftly. I saw a woman from one of my mother's groups last night, and she's 20 weeks pregnant with number two. The last time I saw her, it seemed she had a newborn. Where does all this time go?

Every day, we have to say goodbye to something and move on to the next stage. Julian and I recently had a bath together, but instead of him sitting in my lap and playing sweetly with his toys, he kept trying to turn over onto his stomach and breastfeed, half drowning himself in the process. After a very splashy, exhausting bath, I decided that I won't be having bathtimes with him anymore. So it's goodbye to that, which was lovely while it lasted. And, it seems, every week I am packing away old clothes than no longer fit, or bidding farewell to toys that are too babyish. When Julian moved from his rocker to his cot, it seemed like he would be in it forever. Now, I can see, it won't be too long before he tries to climb the rails. It won't be too long before he moves to a bed. One day, in the not-too-distant future, he'll be at school. My mind is overloaded with all the possibilities. It's exciting and bittersweet all at the same time.

Vicky Leon, photographer, can be contacted here.

The three of us (pics by Vicky Leon)

Julian's photo shoot - bath (pics by Vicky Leon)

Julian's photo shoot (pics by Vicky Leon)

Julian - 11.5 months

Young man

Julian in his top-from-Chicago - 11.5 months

I used to balk at the idea of putting a "baby" - in my eyes, anyone under 12 months - in big boy clothes. Shouldn't we try to keep them for babies as long as possible? Do kids who can't even walk yet really need pants with pockets in them? And what's the deal with the blazers, or woollen vests?

But, now that I have a nearly-12-month-old, my tune has changed. Julian is a big boy now, so I almost feel like I'm keeping him back by dressing him like a tot. Hence, today, when we had a photo shoot with an amateur photographer, I put him in this outfit - from my friend Tracy in Chicago. He looks quite the young man. (And, as a cheesy aside, I dressed David in the same outfit for a few lookalike snaps, too.)

Top teeth (a view from above)

Now I have two top teeth (nearly 11.5 months)

You Gotta Have Faith

Today was Julian's first time at shul. I remember going to shul when I was little, racing upstairs and downstairs (from the women's section to the men's), and generally having a wonderful time. There would be visits to the "Lolly Man" (usually an elderly gent who hands out lollies to kids from underneath his seat, where the prayerbooks are traditionally held. At my dad's shul, he is now the Lolly Man), games with my friends, expeditions to the park across the road. I remember how exciting it was to dress up and go to shul, and listen to the prayers and singing. And I want to give a touch of that to Julian.

So, today David and I went, and met David's dad there. The particular synagogue we went to is a beautiful one: it's very old and grand, and there's a lovely choir of men who sing moving harmonies. Julian loved the whole thing - the spectacle of the building, the sound of the rabbi's booming voice (he used to be an opera singer) and the music of the choir. We came home, and he seemed wiped up by everything he had seen and heard - he slept for two and a half hours, afterwards! It was memorable, and it made me so proud.

On the subject of faith, yesterday I shlepped to the Royal Childrens Hospital to get test for taysachs disease. Being of Ashkenazi Jewish heritage, as is my husband, we fall into the category of people at risk (1 in 28) of being carriers of taysachs. If both of us are carriers, then our children have a 25% chance of being affected. I want to be tested before I embark on IVF again, but the impetus was hearing of someone in my community whose child is affected by the disease. Their son is Julian's age; I cannot imagine a greater hardship than theirs.

Testing for the disease involves a simple cheekbrush swab, and should have taken five minutes. Instead, it took an hour, because the genetic health counsellor insisted on showing me diagrams of embryos and chromosomes and pie charts of statistical probabilities. She kept saying things like, "Now, a 1 in 4 chance of a child being affected doesn't mean that your fourth child will get the disease. Your first child could get it, or your second, or your third, or your fourth, or none of them could get it." I kept saying, "Uh huh, yes, I understand," but it didn't speed her along. Plus, I am polite in these kinds of circumstances, and to be honest, I was just glad to get out of the house for a change.

But, walking through the corridors of the Childrens Hospital (and they spell that without an apostrophe, so ro those grammar fanatics, please don't email me) was its own kind of hell. I kept seeing children - tons of adorable, sweet, happy, playful children - and wondering what was wrong with them. Sure, some of them might have been in there for simple matters, but the majority of them were probably there for something graver. It made me feel lucky that I was only there for safeguard testing, very lucky indeed.

Stuff he does

Suddenly, Julian does a whole lot of stuff. I don't even know when it happened. But, every day he takes a step forward - sometimes it's not even a step, but a big leap. I don't know exactly when these milestones occurred, but, here's what he can do:
- Wave. A big hello and goodbye.
- Kiss. He puckers and then makes a smacking sound, as of yesterday.
- Responds with a "fish" noise of smacking lips repeatedly when asked "What does a fishie do?" or when shown a photo of a fish.
- Mimics a cat's meow.
- Sits up. Beautifully.
- Pulls himself up - not quite to a standing position, but nearly.
- Huffs and puffs to make the sign for "hot".
- Instigates a game of peek-a-boo.
- Says mumma, dadda and nanna discriminantly. Seems to say car and dog and Zaida, but maybe that's pushing it.
- Throws his food to the floor for the dog to eat. Which is why she's getting very fat.

Invitations

Invitations in the works

You can tell that Julian is my first son by how many photos there are, and how much time I spend doing stuff - music classes, swimming lessons, mothers' groups. But I thought I was going to be immune to the First Birthday Party, especially after I'd gone to the catered affairs of his counterparts. I wasn't going to do anything quite so big. Just a cake and a small gathering of family.

That still holds, only today I went to a paper store and spent an hour choosing ribbons and stickers and fancy paper and glue. I won't tell you how much money I spent, but needless to say, a good pair of shoes on sale was in there. I then came home and made ten hand-made, individual birthday invitations. Just for the small gathering of family members. I couldn't help myself. I wanted Julian to feel special. And I know I'll never do this if we ever have a second child. You don't do that kind of stuff again.

Anyway, I'm rather pleased with the finished product. But get this: as I was leaving the paper store, I passed by a designer pet store. And I thought of Ali the pug. She ended up with two bags' worth of stuff, including a Von Bitch visor (ripping of the Von Dutch ones for humans) and a hot pink bow tie collar. At least I didn't end up making birthday cards for her.


One finished product!

Family (Rachelle's 39th Birthday)

Mummy's 39th birthday today!

Birthday kisses

The best birthday present a son can give his mother: he slept in. Until almost 8am. That's a full hour later than normal. Mind you, he was up half the night, as I was, but no matter. I still feel quite well-rested on the last birthday I will celebrate with a "3" in front of it.

Gulp. I am too young to be nearly 40, although I didn't feel it last night, when I went to a bash that Oakley sports label had, for work. In their offices was a skateboard ramp, rock-climbing wall and golf greens; I even showed my age by getting a diet coke (as opposed to beer or Red Bull) at the bar. But I did get some cool points because I knew the rockin' DJ they hired for the night. And no one called me "ma'am".

Update

Here's the reason I haven't been writing: Julian's two top teeth finally showed through on Sunday, but he has not been sleeping well, not at all. Last night we were up three times; that's pretty much par for the course these days. I am hoping he'll learn to sleep through soon, but I suspect it won't happen while I'm breastfeeding. Which I plan to do for another month. Resolve!

I'm yet to witness a clingy stage for Julian - he doesn't cry when strangers come in the room, and he easily goes to people he doesn't know. He won't cry when I leave the room, and doesn't insist on being with me all the time. The other day, I went to visit my friend Judy, whose four and a half year old daughter Cleo did a song-and-dance routine for Julian. This involved getting in his face and flapping her hands wildly about, as well as some screaming. Julian didn't blink; I suspect that's because he was saying to himself, "Yeah, I've seen this show from mum. Been there, done that." There's not much that fazes this kid.

Today is his eleven month birthday; tomorrow mummy turns 39. (Egads) I must be one of the few mothers I know who hasn't planned a bit hoorah for his first birthday - I just want to keep it quiet, with immediate family. But, part of me wonders if I should just make more effort, as I keep receiving these beautiful, hand-made, beribboned invitations for other kids' first birthday parties. One friend had a marquee, a caterer and three entertainers for her child's first birthday. I like the idea of a big blow-out, but not the reality of it. Although I do think that some people take children's birthday parties waaay too seriously.

New teeth

My top teeth are coming through! (nearly 11 months)

Julian grabbed me and gave me a big kiss for the first time today...and, his top teeth are coming through. No wonder he barely slept last night...

Mummy and Julian - 11 months

You can't tell by looking at me, but my teeth hurt!

Acts of Genius

See me grow! Eleven months next week

My mother likes to attribute all sorts of characteristics to Julian, mainly focusing on his extraordinary abilities. Yesterday, we went to the market, and she watched him watching kids at play. "His eyes couldn't be more open!" she exclaimed. "He knows what's going on!" Well, I looked at him too, and his eyes didn't look any bigger than usual - but who am I to argue?

When he walks into her house, he often says "nanananana". So yeah, I do think he's saying "nanna". However, his sound of "yayadazayaya", she claims is "Zaida". "He's looking for Zaida!" she'll say. Sometimes he'll say, "yeyenanana," and she'll say, "He's saying, 'Hi nana!'" Next time he says, "yeyeblehe," I half expect her to say, "He's saying, 'I really think the temperature in your house is slightly too warm.'" Such is the pride of grandparents.

Tonight I am going to see my first movie in over a year, and I couldn't be more excited, even if that movie is Wedding Crashers. The best part is that it counts as "work," which means I get to skip out of the house at 5:15pm, leaving David to do all the feeding-dinner and going-to-bed things, while I GET TO WATCH A MOVIE. Yay, me! Owen Wilson and Isla Fisher (who is Australian, and who knows me, and who once introduced me to her fiance Ali G and he was completely rude to me, even though I am Jewish and he should be nice and even though I named my pug, Ali P, after him) are in town to promote the movie, so I have to cover it. I do wish I looked a bit nicer at the moment, so at least Owen might flirt with me, instead of (probably) looking at me and thinking, "Who is this tired new mother who clearly eats a lot of chocolate at night?" Sigh.