Funny Faces

Just the other day, Max started making funny faces. To be more accurate, Max started making new funny faces. He's always made funny faces, but these are particularly enjoyable. We're not sure if he's exploring his mouth, playing with his lips, trying to soothe sore gums, or just goofing around.

Ferberization

What a busy month. You'll have noticed the absence of regular posts. Most of you will have stopped even checking the blog. Yeah, well. We're back. We took a break -- or at least, I took a break -- mostly because of the gathering exhaustion that looking after a small baby seems to generate.

Max never slept. Friends sent us the cute obligatory photos of their babies, sleeping in the bath, or in a pile of fresh laundry, or in a high chair in the middle of eating. It never happened with Max. Never. Never happened. He was like a ninja: always alert, always ready to pounce. And we indulged him. At night we rocked him to sleep and held him in our arms. If he woke up, we would run to calm him. He ruled the house, like a tiny bad-tempered emperor who should not be disobeyed. His rule was bloody, that's for sure.

Finally, and fortunately, things devolved enough that we were sleeping two hours a night. Max was sick and couldn't breathe well and he'd wake up if we even stopped rocking him for a moment. Something had to be done. So last week we sleep-trained him. We used the Ferber technique, which is well-described all over the place but email me if you want information. For a first-time parent, it's a huge deal: the guilt, the crying, the urge to pick him up, the hope that it works. A misinformed friend told me it was torture. We did it anyway. Within three nights Max was sleeping for hours at a time in his own cot. On the fourth night he slept for eleven hours without making any noise. We have a new baby.

Thank you, Dr Ferber. If I could, I think I would kiss you.

A Poetic Weekend

A weekly visit to the sea
Hunting for treasure on the seashore.

It's cold and I see my breath.
The sea air is invigorating.

Sparing a few seconds to pose for a photo or two.

The Story of New Zealand

One of the latest news stories in New Zealand is the debate to officially name the North and South islands of New Zealand. Apparently, these names aren't geographically official, so it's been suggested that the islands be named with their Maori names -

North Island : Te Ika-a-Maui (meaning the fish of Maui)
South Island: Te Wai Pounamu (meaning the canoe of Maui)

Here is the beautiful traditional Maori story of how New Zealand was created and the origin of these names:

Once upon a time there was a Maori god named Maui who was the youngest of 5 children in his family. Maui's 4 older brothers didn't like him very much and often left him out when they played. Maui, however, was very creative and imaginative on his own doing things like taming the sun and capturing fire. One day the 4 older brothers decided to go fishing, of course without Maui. But Maui was clever and snuck onto the canoe, Te Wai Pounamu (the canoe of Maui - the South Island), and hid there. To show his brothers that he indeed was able to fish well, Maui attempted to catch a fish and ended up catching the biggest one of all, Te Ika-a-Maui, the fish of Maui (the North Island).

Brrrrrrrrrrrrrr

It's autumn now, and the trees are bare for another year. And it's cold outside too. Frost on the ground, and snow in the forecast. It's our second May here but it still seems strange. Dad had to buy some new slippers! I got a new hat. I like it when it's cold because it means I can stay inside, and bounce in my Jolly Jumper, and read with Mom, and compare slippers with Dad.

Central

Last weekend, we loaded our little nuclear family into our car and drove three hours west, into the dry scrub and the mountains and valleys of Central Otago. Wine and fruit country. Last year, before Max was even much of an idea, we went to Queenstown and, on the way we stumbled on the Clyde Wine and Food Festival. You get your own wine glass as you enter and you make your way around the stalls, tasting wine after wine until they all start to taste similar but you don't care because you're happy.

This year we thought we'd take Max along too. We stayed in a hotel for the first time with him ... I think he slept better than he does at home. We had a great time -- tasted a lot of wine and bought apples, pears, quinces, and dried fruit to bring home -- and we can't wait to get out there again.

Here are some photos from the trip. My favorite is the one of Max and Emeline by a statue in Lawrence, on the way. We really just stopped to use the public bathrooms and this statue was outside. We now know Max really likes statues.

Our Littlest World Traveler

Skilled migrant. Work to residence. FBI fingerprints. Criminal record. Permanent resident.

We've been plowing through applications to become Permanent Residents of New Zealand. This means that we'll be able to have access to the national health care, subsidies (like child care subsidies) and be able to apply for credit cards and financing. We'll also be able to travel in and out of New Zealand as we please, without visas, as long as we live.

We thought of applying almost a year ago, but the application fee was a little too steep for us. Now that we've decided to take the leap, we have another little member of our family to add to the application. But we need a few things for Max in order to apply. One being a passport.

We're world travelers, me and Chris, and so why shouldn't Max? I've tried to take a passport photo of him, but he's not very good at staying still for the photo. You can tell me which one you like the best: