Raspberries

Zoë's grandparents have been a terrible influence.  Look what they taught her!  She's been at it ALL DAY LONG. 

Emotional Reunion

The Jenkins/Hanage Family has arrived in Boston!  One thousand welcomes Helen, Bill and the beautiful baby Eve, we are so happy you are here at last!

There was a joyful reunion of the two girls today at lunchtime (I am talking about me and Helen, I am not sure Zoë and Eve quite remembered each other from February).  I wish I had taken a picture of the babies frolicking on the playmat together, but their mums were too busy gossiping and I totally forgot. Maybe next time.  If we pause for breath between all the chatting.

Es-Cape-ades Part 1

A concerned Zozo blog follower* has been in touch to request that I post an update IMMEDIATELY, or face losing my entire readership.  Unfortunately for you lot the place we were staying this last week on the Cape had no tinterweb, as well as no 'phone and no TV.  It was bloody marvellous.  So now you get a week's worth of excitement in one post, with perhaps another to follow tomorrow, when I've had some sleep.

This last week has been notable for two things - the unique place where we were staying and the astonishing strides made by Baby Zoë. 

Hot on the heels of her triumph with the sippy cup, Zoë has, at last, finally got the hang of eating.  Ever since she turned 6 months we have been persevering with twice daily feeding sessions, with mixed results.  Some days she would happily polish off half a jar of pear or sweet potato (her favourites), other days she would moodily smear butternut squash all over her Bumbo, the table, her hair, my clothes, etc. and petulantly purse her mouth and shake her head at the approach of any spoon. 

Hooray and cheers then for Babies "R" Us in Hyannis, where Mum & I bought Zoë a chair to hang off the side of the table.  It is totally genius.  She LOVES that chair and will pretty much eat anything presented to her, but only when she is in the chair (apart from rice & lentil - but who can blame her, it tastes as bad as it looks).

Zoë has also been making all the signs of a baby about to crawl.  Because of her torticollis tummy time has always been hard for her and her gross motor skills were slightly delayed.  Now Zoë can sit up sturdily all by herself and has started to lunge forward to grab things (her stacking cups, Tolo the cow, my hair), and will lean forward on her arms and rock her bum to and fro.  Advanced attempts at forward movement have resulted in tremendous face-plants, but as she seems uninterested in a commando-style crawl I can hold off from babyproofing the apartment for now. 

Finally, in this last week Zoë has spent some quality time with her Shaw grandparents, which she has really enjoyed.  They have learnt the golden rule (no napping after 4 pm), and she has learnt to blow bubbles, built her first sandcastle and had her first swim - all of which activities are far more fun than, say, watching Wimbledon on the telly, reading emails and writing blogs. 

* Aunty Loo-sey

Sandy Pants

Baby Zoë and her entourage are enjoying a well-earned vacation at the Cape, in a beautiful house atop a hill between Newcomb Hollow and Gull Pond.  When we arrived at the beach we found this little gypsy encampment.  How they were allowed to erect this eyesore without an official beach sticker I don't know. 

Zoë seems to have got into the beach groove now, and is happy to sit in her little tent and play with her toys, or sleep, at least for an hour or so.  Any longer and she gets a bit too hot and bothered (I know the feeling).  The sea is still a little too cold for her tiny tootsies, but both her intrepid grandparents took a dip in the Atlantic.  I took the opportunity whilst Zoë was napping to read a book (a sorely missed pastime of yesteryear) and seem to have brought half the beach home in my bikini bottoms.  Yay!

In today's other news, Zoë finally took a proper drink from a sippy cup.  Turns out the old fashioned kind is the best!

More pics and updates from the Cape soon, when wifi allows. 

Fathers' Day Feasts

As with Mothers' Day, Fathers' Day is a pretty big deal here.  When my friends from Isis asked me "what are you getting Eamon for his first Father's Day?", I shamefully replied "err, a card?".  In fact I got him a rare and special treat, namely a visit from his in-laws.  I am sure he'll get round to thanking me later. 

It was a proper scorcher of a day (naturally, the weather forecast predicted thundery showers and possibly some hail).  We walked along the Esplanade (after a slight scuffle between grandparents over who should drive the buggy) and into the Back Bay for lunch at Legal Sea Foods, New England's leading chain of fish-based restaurants. 

For those who don't know my Dad, he's been fairly adventurous food-wise in his time.  I remember once when I was about 12 he ate a whole, slimy, curly sea-snail (cold, off a bed of mossy bladderwrack), which event caused his entire family to dry-heave in unison.  However, when faced with some simple grilled fish he becomes a 13 year old boy who would rather eat his own arm (or a slimy snail) than eat FISH! FISH! THE FODDER OF BEELZEBUB!  So, whilst Mum tucked into a lobster salad, I had some grilled prawns and Eamon had scallop ravioli, Dad was happily munching on some gammon, egg and chips.  Seriously.  Why he didn't go the whole hog and ask for a pineapple ring I have no idea.  But it was Fathers' Day so I guess he could have what he damn well liked. 

Eamon washed his lunch down with some Guinness, the perfect accompaniment to any seafood dish.  As you can see Baby Zoë quite fancied some too (after all, she is half Irish), but had to make do with some SMA. Believe me, post-SMA farts are almost as smelly as post-Guinness farts. 

The journée gastronomique did not end there.  Deterred by loud but, ultimately, impotent thunder, we scrapped a trip to the Redsox game and headed to the North End for some Italian delights.  First there was a stop at Mike's Pastry.  I had been "filled in" about cannoli (ho ho, that's a cannoli joke right there) and the queue was only at the door of the shop, so I got a box.  Boy, was it worth it.  They are f****** AWESOME.  You could totally live just on those cannoli - although it would be a life of obesity and heart disease you would probably die happy. 

We headed on to Pizzeria Regina, which is a very famous Boston pizza joint*.  You have to queue for a table in this slightly shabby but excellent restaurant but, like the cannoli, the wait is worth it.  We had a pitcher of Peroni and shared 3 fairly sizeable pizzas.  Any thoughts of a doggy bag were premature as we ate pretty much the whole lot, to a soundtrack of Don Maclean (Mum and Dad looked suitably nostalgic) and U2 (Eamon, ditto).

I shudder to think how many calories and grams of fat we consumed over the course of the day.  However, Fathers' Day comes but once a year and this year, Eamon's first, I think we did it justice. 

* It has now franchised the brand but the original restaurant is totally worth a visit

So much to do, so little time!

As regular readers will know, Zoë has been hosting her Granny Devlin over the past week.  Here are some pictorial highlights. 

Zoë and Kay, both equally unimpressed by the hideous furniture

Zoë in her charity shop hat waiting for the bus.  I like to think that as a pensioner in 90 years time she'll be doing exactly the same thing. 

We went on an Upper Deck Tour* and Zoë managed about an hour on the bus before she had enough of the inane commentary from our beyond-whimsical tour guide ("Oh, now I bought a shirt in that shop once", "My house is just down there", "Isn't it great to live in Massachussetts, so many meetings of enquiring minds?").  Shut up fool, this baby wants hard facts about land reclamation in the 19th century. 

Two incredibly attractive Redsox fans on a cloudy day in Boston Harbor

Actually, the historical harbour cruise was very good, it was just a shame the weather was so shite.  True to form the Channel 7 weatherbimbo had got it wrong, advising it would be sunny in the morning with thunderstorms in the afternoon.  What we actually got was cold and gloomy in the morning, sunny and bright in the afternoon.  Moron. 

My favourite piece of information from the very knowledgable and not-at-all-whimsical guide on our cruise, aside from learning that Spectacle Island is in fact one ginormous rubbish dump, is that the largest copyrighted work IN THE WHOLE ENTIRE WORLD, the Rainbow Swash, sits just across the water from Southie in Dorchester.  Now I understand why INTA came to Boston.** 

Zoë enjoying her first chip.  Quick, call social services....

Dinner at Scampo.  It was AMAZING. Guess what, I had lobster....

Granny Kay has now flown to Philadelphia to visit Great Aunt Alice.  Granny and Grandpa Shaw have taken her place in the spare room.  If they want to go on an Upper Deck Tour I'm afraid they will be on their own, but I would be more than happy to accompany them on a trip to see a giant gas canister in Dorchester. 

* Try the link, it honks!

** I can't believe those pansies at Wikipedia haven't the balls to publish a picture of "The Swash".

A quick update...

... for all you Zozo fans out there on the tinterweb.  Grannies (and a Grandpa) have been descending en masse and so Zoë has been extremely busy entertaining them and giving them all a few more grey hairs with her cheeky shennanigans.  

I will post a proper update soon, but in the meantime here are some pictures of Zoë and her bestest friend Josie.  They went to the beach today and they had THE BEST TIME. 

Zoë in her Peapod tent

Josie thought Zoë looked lonely, so invited her over to her tent for an intensive rings and stacking cup session (Josie's thinking "Dude, what's with those sunglasses?! You wanna get a funky hat like mine!") 

Crane Beach

2 knackered little girls