Questing.

You all must have been much better prepared for motherhood than I, because only three people responded to my request for questions-you-were-too-embarrassed-or-forgetful-to-ask-your-pediatrician. However I did get many assurances that I am unlikely to accidentally give Simone Shaken Baby Syndrome, which is a relief, particularly assuming that this information also applies to her Jumperoo, which has been the subject of many a terrifying daydream wherein my baby bounces herself into a brain injury and I am unfairly blamed and not only lose custody but am summarily jailed. And anyone who has seen Law & Order knows that inmates are not especially kind to their child-abusing compatriots, so even if I were eventually cleared, I would likely be by then a haunted-eyed shell of my former self, prone to terrifying jailhouse flashbacks. I have such lovely daydreams. Actually, my daydreams don’t hold a candle to my regular dreams, which Scott has long mocked me for, so uniformly horrifying are they. A recent example? A dream in which I was at some odd, Chinoiserie themed party in a New York hotel, and then went down in the elevator and couldn’t convince the doorman to let me back in, at which point several buildings collapsed, a la 9/11, and corpses began raining from the sky. I was forced to enter a Wal-Mart and choose a pair of sweatpants for the journey ahead and then trek across a corpsey post-apocalyptic landscape to another hotel where I would be helping with some corpse-related task, and then it turned out that the floor of the hotel I was sent to was actually the inside of a toilet. Oh! And I had been carrying some book of jokes by Bill Maher on my trek and bequeathed it to someone with a lecture about comedy being the only way through disaster. This lecture occurring, naturally, around a campfire, while I was wearing my new Wal-Mart sweatpants and surveying the blackened, burning, smoke clogged landscape. I should write children’s books, don’t you think?

One question a few of you had for ME was how I get such lovely pictures of Simone, which inquiry I found both flattering and hilarious. Believe me, if you got a glimpse of everything I have in iPhoto, you wouldn’t be asking me for any tips. The truth is that I take about 75 pictures for every one that is nice enough to post, and my photography advice is brief:
1. Buy a better camera. I have a Nikon D40, for which I paid $500. I wish I had bought it earlier. I have almost no usable pictures from the NICU because Simone couldn’t tolerate the flash (and it made her look awful anyway) and my old point-and-shoot was terrible in low-light situations. It had such a lag between pressing the button and the actual picture being taken that I almost NEVER got anything in focus—babies are twitchy, you know. I use the D40 exactly like I used the old camera—on the automatic-but-no-flash setting—but get vastly better results.
2. Don’t use the in-camera flash. At some point I might buy of those fancy flashes that you can point upwards, away from the subject, but for now I just open the shades all the way and put Simone by a window. Much better.
3. Take a million pictures. The delightful thing about a digital camera is that you aren’t wasting film by clicking manically away in the hopes that you will get something pretty. I have a big memory card I got for $50, so I never run out of room.

And that’s it. I am too impatient to learn Photoshop—I pull my pictures into Picnik on Flickr and crop them, press the “automatically fix exposure” button, and fiddle with the saturation and temperature a little because Flickr does a funny thing to color profiles.
I have a hell of a time getting pictures of Simone smiling, because she is too busy looking at the camera to notice me waving my hand at her in an amusing fashion. I finally got one yesterday by getting her SO excited by waggling my ponytail around that she was still smiling when I raised the camera and snapped it at her. Still, most of those pictures were terribly out of focus because she was bobbing her head around with glee.

On a totally unrelated note, those of you with reflux-y preemies who used Danny Slings and elevated crib mattresses: when did you stop? Simone still has reflux, but I am wondering if it is time to put the crib mattress down and retire the Danny Sling, as her reflux is no longer of the constant terrifying threat of apnea variety, more of the all that extra laundry is a nuisance sort—in other words, probably no worse than many regular babies, who are probably NOT sleeping with elevated crib mattresses and Danny Slings. They discharged us from the apnea program months ago and said we would “just know” when it was time to stop the reflux precautions. Well, this is yet another thing that I do NOT, in fact, “just know.” Do you? Also “sitting unassisted”: how does this happen? Do I just prop Simone up over and over until she stays that way? Will she somehow sit up on her own? The child isn’t even rolling over yet, people. I feel like there is something I should be doing that I’m not—tiny baby obstacle courses, maybe?