Dear Niko:

You are, what, 16 months old? You are rapidly growing, as they say, a full head of teeth. This includes canines. And molars. Teeth, man. I love the way you fake chomp things, snapping your head down and your mouth shut with a noise like “owm!” and then the way you grin afterwards because it’s effing hilarious. I love the way you lick things that are new, just the tip of your tongue and then the full tongue, and then you cram it into your mouth and chew away. I love the way you eat aloo mutter and chicken mukhni with abandon, even though it makes a mess. I love that you think it’s hilarious when someone shrugs in an exaggerated fashion and says “Iunno” (I don’t know), and that you do the same hands-up-shrugging thing. SO CUTE.

I love the way you hand me things and scamper off, the way you’ve started saying “tehbuu” (thank you) when we give you stuff. I love the way you run into your closet, peek at me, and then run full tilt at me to hug me, then tear off back into the closet to start the game over. I love the way you think it’s hilarious when I close your face in a book. I love the way you fake out like you’re going to kiss my cheek, and then kiss my arm instead. It was kind of gross that one time you licked me, but whatever.

I love the way you dance when I sing. You jump up and down and march in place and bounce in a circle; you wiggle your shoulders and arms and jutter your body all around. And you grin and laugh the whole time. I love the way you applaud for yourself, and the way you high-five us when you’re in a good mood. I love that you laugh when other people laugh. I love that you climbed up onto the couch twice today, and that you clambered up the stairs outside our apartment and then slid back down three of them to get to our landing.

I love the way you’re interested in forks and spoons, and eating what we’re eating, and that you wipe your face with a napkin. I don’t love that you wipe your hands in your hair, but we’ll work on that one. I love that we take you out to Golden Nugget and you eat real food so you just chow down on eggs and stuff and you’re so patient and interested in what’s going on that a handful of crayons, a paper placemat, and other patrons keep you occupied. I love that you drink with a straw, and that you drink from my glass and then from tata’s glass just to make sure one of us doesn’t have a better tasting drink than the other.

I love that you call tata papa and that you call me dada. I have no idea why you do, but whatever. Food is mamamam still. I love that you point to every ball you see and remind us that, yes, this is a ball and you love it. Oh sweet precious ball! I love that you’re picking up Srpski. It’s weird and hilarious that if I bend over you run up and head butt my butt. I don’t love it, but it makes me laugh, so maybe I do love it, and where the heck did you learn that? I love that you’re figuring out all the different noises you can make with your tongue and lips.

I love you a lot. You are so precious and wonderful, and I feel like a sap for saying it, but man it is so true.

In the third hour of “bed is bad! I’m gonna SCREAM if you leave the room!” I gave up and took Niko back into the living room. Nesko came home at quarter to eleven and successfully wrangled him down. I’d already been clubbed in the face twice with hard plastic objects and seen one melt down too many.

A lot of people I know have raised/are raising their kids without a set schedule, and that works for them. A set schedule works really, really well for us. Niko’s off his rocker with these recent sleep pattern disruptions, and I’m short tempered as well. Alarm’s set, and we’re waking him up early tomorrow (well. his usual wake up time.) and getting him down for naps.

This no-sleeping bullshit needs to end.

Final drink/snack, tooth brushing, book reading, special lullabye, sleep. That’s how it goes. That’s how it’s been going. We need to get back to that.

buh.

We had a good day, otherwise. Took a long walk to the bridge and around the neighborhood and to the corner store (where I need to not buy anything but canned goods and butcher meat, everything else is over priced and/or spoiled, including bread that’s stale and frozen items that are freezer burned and/or rotten) and back home again. I’m trying to focus on the goodness of it, and him blowing raspberries and inventing a new game of coming up to give me a kiss and kissing my elbow instead of my cheek, and him head butting me in the butt (what is this i don’t even), and him smiling and laughing and stacking blocks and pointing out every ball he sees. But I am dang tired, and frustrated, and am really looking forward to being able to explain and reason with him. This was not a good ending to the day.

A while back, Angelina Jolie “defended” her daughter Shiloh’s “weird” clothing (seriously people, she’s 4. what is there to defend?), saying “Shiloh, we feel has Montenegro style. It’s how people dress there. She likes tracksuits, she likes [regular] suits. So it’s a suit with a tie and a jacket and slacks, or a tracksuit…” and then she goes on to talk about how Shiloh wants short hair, to dress like a boy, thinks of herself as a boy, etc.

Apparently a lot of people thought that was a strange thing to say, and went on picking apart the stylistic choices of, let me repeat this, a four year old, and then noted that Montenegro has “no particular known style connotation [...]“

Actually, Montenegro is a very small European country very close to Italy (you can take a ferry there, it’s not a big thing) and people there have a lot of style. Is it style that is entirely unique to Montenegro which you won’t find anywhere else? No, but it’s different from American style (where the Jolie-Pitts are from), and Montenegro is not a very well known country. Further, it’s one that only recently left Communism behind, and is struggling to reclaim its national identity. When someone says a person has a very New York sense of style, or California, or French, or Russian, or Brazilian… people generally have a preconceived notion of what that means. Montenegro doesn’t have that yet, but it’s still European and funky and individual.

My husband’s family is from Montenegro, and my husband visits there pretty frequently. His aunts and uncles and cousins over there have sent us baby clothing for Niko. It’s not entirely unlike American baby/child clothing, but it definitely has its differences. JUST FOR YOU, I took photos of some of his stuff and am going to share it. Because I care.

From 2010-07-29

These are a pair of jeans that came with a freaking SHEET of instructions as to how to wash them. Cold water! Delicate cycle! THEY BLEED DYE! Hang dry! Oh God no. These pants gave me a complex and I shoved them in a corner for a month before I could even consider washing them. Them I just threw them in with everything else. They were too long/skinny for our 50th percentile baby, so they never quite fit him right and his tummy outgrew them before his legs did. They looked pretty good other than that, though. They also came with a BUNCH of extra buttons, in case you lost one, just like adult clothing does.

From 2010-07-29

They are a dark denim with orange contrast stitching, and a funky looking snap. I would wear jeans that look like these. The waistband also seems much more comfortably constructed than a lot of baby/toddler waistbands.

From 2010-07-29

They sent us a lot of button down shirts. Button down shirts do not stay tucked in one a baby or toddler. They look really adorable, though. I like this plaid pattern.

From 2010-07-29

The tag says “American Football 81.” I think the company was founded in 1981?

From 2010-07-29

It has a little football helmet logo on the breast. We are so not football people. My American relatives gave us a lot of sports (including football) themed clothing; I was not expecting this from Nesko’s European relatives.

From 2010-07-29

There’s a patch on the sleeve that says “New York University Sports Union 1981.” I’m pretty sure this is English for the sake of having English.

From 2010-07-29

This is one of my absolute favorite shirts ever. It was so vibrant and so soft, and I love the funky tie on it. The washing instructions called for cold water, and I washed it in hot because seriously, it was on a baby. It got poop and spit up all over it. And various foods. Now it’s not as soft and is kind of pilled/nubbly. I still love it, though.

From 2010-07-29

It’s got a crest, in addition to the tie.

From 2010-07-29

“The Blue Dog Country Club.”

From 2010-07-29

This is a lovely pale blue, and very very soft and cuddly. It’s a jacket with matching onesie and footed pants. The pants are the same pattern as the lining of the jacket (tiny darker blue teddy bears). The hood has ears on it. Ears!

From 2010-07-29

Look at those ears!

From 2010-07-29

The onesie was a nice light blue color, generously sized, with that bear applique on it.

From 2010-07-29

Hoodie. Navy blue. Looks very, very sturdily constructed.

From 2010-07-29

“Football League Spin” with “05″ in the middle. I believe that “Spin” is the brand name.

From 2010-07-29

This is the absolute best example of “English for the sake of having English,” I think. Logo on the back says “TMIDDLE WEST BALL DEPART” around the border, “Best Player is Number 05″ across the top, “FOOTBALL LEAGUE” flanked by “spin wear” (the brand) in the middle, and “League Player from New York Class Eight” across the bottom. LOVE.

From 2010-07-29

I love this jacket, and I’m afraid it’ll be too small by the time cool weather rolls around again. It’s a purpley-blue and white check pattern with a nice big hood and nice buttons.

From 2010-07-29

There’s a button tab on top of the zipper.

From 2010-07-29

And two buttoned pockets.

From 2010-07-29

This is a very, very soft jacket (shirt?) and pants set in a beautiful buttery yellow. I worry that Niko will out grow it before it’s cool enough to wear it.

From 2010-07-29

You can see the pom poms at the end of the hood’s draw strings, and the kitten and paw print appliques.

From 2010-07-29

This is a sweat shirt and sweat pants set. The shirt has like a t-shirt appliqued on it. I don’t even.

From 2010-07-29

It has English for the sake of having English on it, too. Some of it is illegible. But it says things like “Spin Kids Wear” (brand name), “Sporting,” “kids FUN,” “No Rules Generation” in funky typography, “talkin’ bout peace,” and “BEST.” And maybe “Landscapes” or “Tandscapes” or “Pandscapes” or something like that.

From 2010-07-29

This is a blurry photo of the totally sensible neck opening which has two cool looking buttons. This outfit looks really comfy, actually, and I like the grey and red color scheme.

From 2010-07-29

This is just a pair of short overalls with a fun fabric. I am very partial to stripes.

From 2010-07-29

This is a patch on the leg. I’m not entirely sure what it says. “Radio Attitude Magician” perhaps?

From 2010-07-29

Detail on the front.

From 2010-07-29

Applique on the back. This is possibly the brand? This was a hand-me-down and tags had been removed from the inside.

From 2010-07-29

Zara brand shirt. The blue is really great. This looks like a big person shirt scaled down for a little person. I am not a fan of button down shirts for little kids because they don’t stay tucked in, but this is still mad adorable. And also too big for Niko which is why we haven’t de-tagged and washed it yet.

From 2010-07-29

The two breast pockets.

From 2010-07-29

Applique on the arm. Sorry it’s so blurry. I forget what it says, but there’s that “81″ again.

From 2010-07-29

Inside tags.

From 2010-07-29

Another favorite piece. This is actually a dark navy, but the flash washed out the color. It zips up the front, has a high ribbed collar, and ribbed waist band and wrists.

From 2010-07-29

Close up of the collar, and truer color.

From 2010-07-29

It’s got little like epaulets on the shoulders. Here’s one pulled up.

From 2010-07-29

And here it is, smoothed back down. I really doubt this will fit Niko this Autumn and I’m sad about that. I would totally buy this in a larger size. I would wear this in a larger size.

From 2010-07-29

This is one of my absolute favorite sweaters/articles of clothing Niko’s owned. It’s wool and very, very soft. I hang it to dry. He wore it a lot this winter. I love the colors, and the argyle pattern on the front.

From 2010-07-29

Here, you can see the cuffs and the hem and collar.

From 2010-07-29

Why yes, of course it has a crest/logo on one sleeve.

Last night was a bad night. It wasn’t the worst night ever, there was no blood, there was no illness. But Niko was up well over an hour past his bed time, and there was a lot of screaming. Lots of it. Screaming.

He took a very long, and slightly late, morning nap so I didn’t put him down for an afternoon nap. Instead, I put him down to bed early. I fed him, brushed his teeth, changed his diaper, put him down.

And less than an hour later, he woke up and was very insistently awake. He still looked tired, but he was very awake, and screamed bloody murder if I tried to leave him in his crib.

He was also acting hungry, which is usually the culprit in his sleep strikes. So I offered him food. He rejected it. I let him play a bit. I asked him if he was sleepy and he shook his head. I asked him again and he shook his head harder. I started singing the little song I sing when I put him down to sleep. He burst into angry tears.

Right then.

Around 9:00, after several food offerings, I strapped him into his high chair and got myself some yogurt because I was hungry. He was verrrry interested in the contents of my bowl and wound up eating all of my yogurt. A full adult portion.

Then I put him to bed with no fussing at all.

So I guess he just wanted some yogurt.

It’s a really frustrating stage, right now. He knows what he wants and can’t communicate his desires, unless they involve balls or dogs. So he gets frustrated, and we get frustrated, and it’s just… a lot of frustrations. A lot of good stuff, too. But a lot of frustrations.

We were reading “Please Baby Please” and Niko had fun pointing at the balls (and other round things) and calling them balls, barking at the stuffed bunnies, pointing out the bananas, and naming other things he can say the name of.

We also figured out that he tacked “dje deh” to the end of “bye bye” because he’s saying “bye bye, do vidjenja.” “Do vidjenja” is how you say “good bye” in Serbia. Well, it’s one way. It’s kind of formal. You can also say ciao.

Which reminds me of Eddie Izzard.

Ciao.

Anyway, Niko does this thing when he’s eating (in his high chair) where he’ll suddenly hold one hand up. This has always confused me, because it kind of looks like what students do when they want a teacher’s attention; it kind of looks like he’s gesturing toward something that he wants; it kind of looks like something my dad does when he’s relaxing; it kind of looks, ok, a bit Nazi-Salute-y. So when he does it, I usually look around offering him things. What? What does he want? This banana? This telephone? This fork? This board game? These keys? What? And he just shakes his head and looks kind of sad and puts his hand back down eventually.

And then we figured out what he wants.

Dudes, he wants a high five.

I am not even joking. If we hold a hand out, he will slap it. And grin. Smack! High five!

I guess he just loooooves eating. Look! I’m eating! high five. Look! Blueberry! high five. Awesome! TOAST! high five.

This is a guy who once clapped after eating a piece of broccoli.

He also thinks it’s totally hilarz and the best joke ever if I stack one blueberry atop another, or put one cube of cheese on top of another cube of cheese. He grins at me, claps a little bit, snatches the item, and shoves it in his mouth while giving me a “ha ha, see what I did there?” look.

He’s in a pretty good mood most of the time, is pretty mellow, finds lots of things funny.

He even thinks it’s funny when I run an ice cube along his back.

Best baby ever? Oh yeah. I think so.

HIGH FIVE!

Ciao.

When Niko sees a dog, he says “wao! wao!” at the dog, because, you know,that’s the nose dogs make. Kind of. Some dogs.

When he sees a duck he makes a kind of quacking noise.

When he sees a bird he makes a breathy tweeting noise.

When he sees a vacuum cleaner he makes a low, deep roar– the same growling noise that vacuum cleaners make.

He’s just trying to communicate, you know? They make these mouth noises (hose noises, in the case of the vacuum cleaner, maybe) and he makes them back.

And apparently when we have a thunder storm he growls at the thunder as well. The sky is talking, people! He’s just talking back!

I think that one of my big challenges as a parent is to cut out “he’s too young!” from my thinking. Niko is 15 months old, and from many MANY people I’ve talked to, he’s plenty old enough to start learning things like “don’t throw food,” say “thank you” (or “taa-pu” as a friend’s toddler does), and pick up toys. And honestly, he doesn’t throw food OFTEN (when he does, it’s usually because he is DONE eating and wants to get OUT of the chair and we haven’t responded in a timely enough manner to the tune of like five minutes and he can’t SAY “hey, sup, I’m getting bedsores from sitting here and need to stretch my legs” so the red peppers he licked but didn’t eat go onto the floor.) and when my sister-in-law leads the way he picks up toys and puts them in a container just fine.

Last night, Nesko and I hung out in Niko’s room before bed. We played with blocks, we played with balls, we read a book together. Niko ran around yelling and throwing balls. Then I started guiding him to pick up his toys.

It didn’t work very well.

I’d put something in a bin. He’d take it out of the bin and throw it across the room. I’d put something else in the bin. He’d take it out of the bin, put it in a different bin, then get his big beach ball and shove it into a bin. Then he’d take the beach ball and chuck it into the closet. I’d put something into a bin. He’d pull it out and throw it in his laundry hamper (which is A Big No, and we are working on him not putting things in/out of there, but it’s something he’s decided he wants to push on and test limits on. It’s a weird hill to chose to die on, but sometimes clothes in there are REALLY dirty and I don’t want him dragging them around the house.) while giving me a “dare you to stop me” look.

We kept at it a while. He started calming down. Nesko took him out to brush his teeth and I picked up all his toys and put the bins on his book shelves. They came back. Niko pulled all the bins off the shelves and chucked a stuffed skunk at his dresser.

We put him to bed.

We’re going to start the bedroom-cleaning each night. I figure he’ll pick up on the correct rules of the “game” soon enough (put toys in and leave them there, not put toys in and dump them back out).

Niko and I were hanging out in his (air conditioned) room this morning, throwing balls around and waiting for his baba and djedo to come pick him up for the day. We were having a fantastic time until he started throwing things into his laundry hamper, after which we only were having a pretty ok time because I had to stand guard and redirect him. Well, he was still having a pretty fantastic time, but I was getting frustrated and trying not to show it. Especially as he’d lightly touch the hamper with one finger and say “Bah! caca.” and make a face like he knew the dirty clothes in there were, you know, dirty and icky and not to be touched. And then he’d reach in there and grope around, or start chucking things in, or whatever.

Anyway, his grandparents arrived and I said “Niko! Bye bye! Time to go bye bye!” and he got really excited and started rattling the door knob trying to turn it and escape. I let him out and turned off the AC and lights, and saw that he was carrying his diaper bag around yammering “bye bye! bye bye! bye bye!” He was carrying it in both arms, held against his chest, and then he managed to get the strap over him and was dragging it behind him.

He was thrilled to actually leave the house, and nearly exploded with delight when he saw his djedo.

He’s in a pretty good mood today. We ran a lot of errands yesterday and he got to meet people, and a big standard poodle named Coco. It was an exciting day, and I’m pretty sure he slept well.

I was so wrapped up in vomitpalooza the other day that I didn’t think to add this.

The friends we visited over the 4th of July have an itty bitty baby. She’s utterly adorable, with long skinny feet and perfect hands and the funniest little mouth. She’s about 6 weeks old, I think. Her proud parents did the “pass the baby around” thing, as new parents are wont to do, and Nesko held her.

Niko pretty much flipped out.

He ran over and started pawing at Nesko’s knees and reaching up for him, making smacking motions at the infant. At very first, we thought he wanted to check out the baby. No, he did not want to check out the baby. He wanted to throw the baby out the window. He was mad jellus, y’all.

Nesko handed baby Lilly off to someone else and picked Niko up for some cuddles, but Niko quickly lost interest in him and wanted to get back to the Stairs Of Danger across the room (they are remodeling the house, the stairs had carpet pulled up and have some tacks and staples that keep turning up even though the steps have been swept and cleaned a bunch of times, plus they are kind of splintery, and just in general they are not fit for a baby toddler). I guess if we ever want his attention we just need to start toting around an infant and he will come running all green-eyed and terrified.

And then he will mark his territory or something.

The air conditioning in Nesko’s car hasn’t worked in over a year. Closer to two years, I think. Maybe longer? I know that this is at least the second summer we haven’t had it. My seat heater has been defunct for even longer. We live in Chicago, and every summer there’s a few stretches of a few days where it’s ungodly hot. And humid. “Hot as balls,” as a friend of mine says. “Like walking on the surface of the sun, only more bitter and hateful” as another friend puts it. I never really understood “it’s not the heat, it’s the humidity” until we spent a summer road tripping to the Grand Canyon, driving through New Mexico. Can I just go on record as saying that I could live with 90-100* heat with no humidity much better than I could live with what we have here in Chicago? Because what we have is like a swamp that floats around in the air, whacks you in the face, and sets up shop in your lungs while setting you on fire and I hate it.

If I ever had to live in New Orleans or Florida, I would die. I would be dead. Possibly I would goad someone into murdering me. And it would be entirely the fault of humidity.

So! Yesterday was the Fourth of July, and we decided to drive to visit some friends of ours who were having a cook out to celebrate how totes awesome USA! USA! USA! is fuck yeah!!!! and also to show off the new house they bought. They live about an hour away. It was well over 95* yesterday, in a car with no air conditioning. We took the highways, which meant we couldn’t pull over in case of sudden vomity deluge.

Yesterday Niko had his first bought of car sickness and threw up for the first time ever.

It was really awful, and I’m very glad our friends had their washer and dryer hooked up, and I wish more gas stations had changing tables and possibly small bath tubs in their bathrooms. Also if they sold towels and upholstery cleaner that would rock. Nesko still needs to clean his upholstery because it just… it… man. It was NASTY.

And it smelled like combos.

Now it smells like rancid combos.

I used to eat combos a lot and now I think I will never eat them ever again. Ever.

We’ve got the first “kiddo pukes everywhere” under our belts, though, so from here on out we should be fine. Prepared.

And Nesko’s going to try and fix his AC today.