Ok, I know cavemen didn’t have guns, the two were thousands of years apart on the evolutionary timeline but still, those two words sum up what I was thinking when Benoit came to me and told me he would be going hunting for pheasant with my uncle. It seemed bizarre. Benoit is French, a lanky, soft-handed, liberal, pro-gun control, foodie who’s also into computers. Guns are definitely not something I’ve ever pictured alongside him. Still, recognizing how rare it is for him to get out and be among “men” sans baby Gianna, I also thought the idea of him walking around in a dirty field with dirty dogs and a shotgun slung over his shoulder would make a great photo, if only for my pure amusement.

So, he went with my uncle. My uncle shot down three birds in a stocked field, let the dogs run around and do their hunting dog thing and then stopped at the end of their day and let Benoit pose with their kill and their killing license, the shot gun. Benoit never actually fired it because he doesn’t have a license but after his fun in the field, he’s actually thinking about getting one. And, I’m left shaking my head how an innocent little trip to the pheasant farm might have awakened some caveman desire in my husband to stalk and kill unsuspecting fowl. This is just so surprising because until this weekend, Benoit had never hunted anything in his life, never even really held a gun. A fishing pole might have been his only foray into the cycle of life and death that brings dinner to our plates. And yet, here I am a bit shocked to admit that this red-blood, All-American experience kinda looks good on him! I wish it didn’t come at the expense of me reverting to my cavewoman-like existence, trapped at home with the baby going to some dull baby sign language class on a perfectly sunny Saturday morning and wistfully wondering how my husband was doing out in the wilds, but I’m happy nonetheless that he was able to have some guy time. God knows he’s done his best to give me a couple adventures out of the house leaving him and Gianna to fend for themselves.

So, here he is in his hunting, caveman glory…

I finally got a photo, not a great one, of Gianna’s bottom teeth. She’s had them for about a month now so they’ve really come through and changed her whole smile. I’m not sure if she’s taking her new chompers into consideration when she grins these days but I swear I never used to see so much of her bottom jaw before. It’s like she’s showing off her pearly whites to the world. Then again, she has also taken to smiling with her mouth closed, something she never did in months past and since neither of us are prone to a closed-mouth smile, I wonder if this is more of her personality peeking through. She’s got quite the devilish little smirk! That’s next up on my list of must-have photos of her. For now, I’m happy to share with everyone the newest additions to her mouth.

I have a new interior decorator. She comes with many glowing testimonials and although her accreditations are a little lacking and her time in the field quite short, I’d say she’s doing a bang up job of really making our home hers in style and function.

The piles of laundry I so thoughtfully arranged into groupings of his, hers and little baby’s were even more thoughtfully redesigned in such a way as to look as if no one had done any work at all in folding them in the first place. I particularly enjoy that my household chores can be made to look like functional works of art and I do believe my new decorator has attempted an ode to Jackson Pollack from my clean socks and underwear in my living room. I even hesitate to dismantle such a display but alas, the decorator forgot to allow ample foot traffic space and I can’t have that which was finally clean becoming dirty again by traipsing feet.

The new decorator has also time and time again tried to make the case for a greener lifestyle in our home. Many of her efforts are directed at purging our closets, shelves and drawers of all items. And, much as I do agree with the concept of improving our climate by living with less and thereby not contributing to the degredation of forests and other resources used in the making of stuff, I cannot help but think it is a little wasteful that we’ve bought those very drawers and shelves and are no longer allowed to use them. And it is just a little annoying that my decorator seems to think so highly of herself that whenever she encounters a lapse in my good judgment, namely where I have sneakily put things back into their drawers and shelves, she makes a good display of completely ransacking those compartments in plain view of me and with a devilish grin and slingshot arm, managing to displace all their contents in record time and maximum destruction of said contents.

In fact, I’m thinking of firing her. I appreciate the modern viewpoint and asthetic but I’m not sure I want to live with the demolitionist-trained decorator anymore. Does anyone know when she is likely to graduate from this “must remove all loose objects from containers” phase and go get an advanced degree in “must put everything back inside their containers” instead?

Gianna’s ninth month is underway and I have been reflecting a lot recently on how much she’s already grown and all the new things she has begun to do that she couldn’t even dream of doing one or two months ago. I know the time is near when she will not just pull herself up on furniture and walk around it but she will let go and take her first wobbly steps away from me. She is engaging with her world in ways that signal to me she is ready for more interaction, ready to be given more tools for play and language.

She now points to things that interest her and grunts until I follow her little finger and make the appropriate ooohs and aaahs that she desires. She watches my finger when I point to something and very carefully looks in the correct direction to see what I am gesturing about. Mostly I’m pointing at the cat and trying to make the baby sign for cat while saying cat in French and I’m amazed any of it is sinking in because it feels like a chicken dance to me.

She has always been fond of ripping up magazines and catalogs and any other junk mail that arrives by post just for her only now, she hands me the little pieces she has torn with her pincer grasp and when I take them from her and say thank you, she sits back on her haunches and claps at my achievement. She also likes it when I give the pieces back to her and she very happily welcomes them back into the crumpled reservoir she is safeguarding in her hands.

But this has also been a month of goodbyes for us. Gone are the cheery, old-fashioned standbys like peek-a-boo and hide and seek. She has figured out that you do not disappear when you leave her sight so it’s not fun to watch you reappear either. Now, the only way to get a laugh is to scare the crap out of her. She just squeals in delight when you pop out from behind furniture unexpectedly and she even prefers it if you do it while making scary animal noises. It’s apparently great fun to be scared like that and I think I have a horror-flick aficionado in the making.

In any case, she’s only a few days into her ninth month and I already feel like she’s leaving me in the dust. Our baby games are boring her. Her soft toys are left uncuddled in their baskets. People and animals are finally gaining ground. And that means I’ve got to get some new ideas for what to do with her all day. My background as an only child is definitely starting to show and my poor kid is suffering from boredom after only 9 months with me! If you’ve got any suggestions, I’d love to hear them and she would too!