Blessingday.

Last weekend, we had Clara's baby blessing at church. It's a very simple ordinance, but quite sweet and touching in its own way. Katie's masterful aunt Gail made a classically beautiful blessing dress for Clara, and it wouldn't be fair to Clara or the dress if we didn't post some pictures here about it. Our friend Saydi also came over and took some pictures of Clara in the dress a few days beforehand so that we would have some high-quality memories of the event.

I'm thinking of printing this picture out in sepia, staining it with tea, and hiding it so that Clara can find it 30 years from now and think that it's from the early 20th century. Of course, my confused mind 30 years hence might also think it's from that time period...

A detail of the dress. Remarkable - I would have thought that such creations could only be created by elves in the off-season.

 

 

Why is is that this expression makes me afraid for my parental resolve and steadfastness?

 

Clara putting the dress through its emotional paces.

 

Hey, you. You talkin' to me?

 

In a fortunate confluence of circumstances, my brother was in town from Germany with his girlfriend Claire, so they were able to come be part of the day; my parents, Katie's parents, Jeff, Anja, Elliot, Ben, Heather, and not-so-little Jorgen were also able to be here for the celebration. It was wonderful to spend time with our families, and that they could all get together to celebrate with our little Clara-bear.

The Great Escape

Clara had a breakthrough in the sleep department this week, increasing the duration of her continuous nighttime sleep from 4 to 8 hours. However, on the second night of this glorious development, Clara decided that sleeping through the night was not nearly impressive enough. To top the prior night's achievement, she also pulled these two little tricks.

BEFORE:


AFTER:

How she managed to work her arm out of both the swaddle and her pajamas is still a bit of a mystery to me.

After feeding and reswaddling (with both arms out), Clara feigned sleep for the next hour while she executed this little trick and executed a 90-degree turn in her crib.


It may be time to lower the crib mattress because at this rate, she'll be climbing out by Friday.

Beach bums.

Over the lovely Labor day weekend, Katie and I decided that it was high time to take Clara to the Cape for her first beach experience (since great white sharks had been spotted off of Chatham, we thought "What better time?") Truth be told, and as might be assessed from the quantity of clothing she is wearing, Clara might not have had a truly authentic experience this time. But we'll make sure she gets more sand in her diaper and eats more seaweed when next we head beachward...



I think that Clara's in there...


Clara considers the benefits of short sleeves.


Doing her old man impression.


It was "Wear your hat to the beach" day.


Clara rebelled against the tyranny of the hat,
and her hair rebelled against her.


I rebelled against everything else.
(or, why it's better when I'm behind the camera.)

I Am Canadian.

When I was in elementary school, the Canadian athletic company "Roots" came out with a sweatshirt design that was all the rage. To possess a Roots sweatshirt with a beaver on the front was a sign of true coolness. My "coolness" was assured when for Christmas I received a pink Roots sweatshirt from my Grandma. To this day, my pink Roots sweatshirt tops the list of "most favorite clothing I have ever owned." Thus, I was overcome with nostalgia when Clara received a nearly identical Roots shirt from her Canadian Grandma. This week in a true showing of her Canadian heritage, Clara wore the noble beaver with pride and declared to the world (along with Joe) that SHE IS (at least 1/2) CANADIAN!

She speaks.

Clara recently discovered that she has a functional voice box, and has been quite diligent in her voice training practice regimen. She regularly spends between 30-45 minutes delivering epistles and discourses on various subjects around 6:30 every morning, as a means for edifying Katie and I (since sleep at that hour is clearly a sign of slothfulness and indolence, and should be avoided at all costs.) We captured one of her conversations on video, so that you could be edified as well.

Of course, this might be even more enlightening if we could figure out what exactly she was trying to say...so far my search for a baby-to-english translator hasn't yielded much fruit. If those computer programmers would just get on the stick and stop sleeping during those invaluable early morning hours, I'm sure this problem would be solved by now.

Or perhaps the answer is just trying to teach her the age-old lesson that one shouldn't talk with fist-in-mouth...

[I thought about posting the other 67 videos of her staring blankly at the video camera here as well, but decided that I would save those for a special occasion.]

Waking Up: A Narrative.

After a -too-short- period of napping, followed by some vigorous kicking and Houdini-like maneuvers, Clara yells and lets us know that she has, once again, been successful at escaping from the confines of her swaddle. She is very proud of herself.



However, the reality of waking up is surprisingly surprising. An extended period of face-scratching and rubbing ensues.



This is followed by some practice poses that will be useful in dealing with paparazzi. Thankfully, she has no bodyguard yet, so my camera is safe.



After she has reconciled herself to the notion that her picture will be captured for future uses, she indulges in a brief period of contemplation. She ponders whether she will be ready for another nap in another 90 minutes, or if the nap can wait as long as 100 minutes. Time will tell.



After much thought, she decides that the best retaliation for all of the photos, as well as payback for the brainsquishing event of last week, is squishing my head.

The Squisht Brain

Since Clara's been growing like a weed, Katie decided that this was the week to dress her up in her full set of springful (springy, springish?) attire. To top it all off, she initiated our little sprout into the ranks of the BrainSquisher™. Sure, she looks cute, what with the color of the flower matching her dress and other subtle aesthetic details, but I have concerns. Not with respect to the squishing of her noggin, but it's a slippery slope; first it's one flower, then two, then the next thing you have is:



Yet another garden to maintain...

In other news, Grandma Jean (that sounds quite weird to my ears) came up this past weekend for a little escapade. I snapped this picture shortly after Clara surprised us all by walking across the kitchen, climbing up onto my mother's lap, and sitting down on the table. Unfortunately, technical difficulties prevented me from capturing the entire event, but I think you would agree that the shot that follows could only have been preceded by such an occurrence.



To conclude: a picture of Clara trying to pull her head into her dress like a turtle.