pull it together girl!...

Kids get sick. Period. With a daycare swarming with random germs and viruses, it happens. Every now and then there's a wonderfully disturbing sign next to the door highlighting a more serious malady that one of the undisclosed children has come down with. All you can do is hope that whatever your child catches is one that can be nursed at home and not something that requires you to lay out yet another co-pay at the pediatrician.

We've been very lucky with Alexis. But recently she caught some sort of bug and has been on an up and down rollercoaster ride of varying states of health. It all began after she had her MMR shot, which caused us an enormous amount of distress considering that's the shot that everyone freaks out about. She broke out in these huge, angry hives and had a slight fever. The hives went away, but the next day she sat in pure misery, falling in and out of states of slumber, culminating with a hefty fever that night.

A Christmas Tree farm cutting adventure was the next day. We were a bit concerned about taking our sick little bug out into the cold to hunt for a tree, but in the end, it seemed that the brisk cold air did her some good. She was back to her normal lovable, jibber-jabbering self. Next day, back to misery along with a strange lacy rash that dissipated over time. Add an eye infection that glues her eye shut in the morning to the mix, and she's not all too pleased.

The poor women at daycare have had to deal with her mixed moods. The poor little child actually went to the barn door that leads to the nap room, stood at it, and pointed, indicating that she'd like to lay down. Apparently, yesterday, she ended up falling asleep on a boppy pillow that was on the floor. All of this sleeping clearly indicates that she's not yet back to normal.

She'll be better soon. In the grand scheme of things, a week of misery is simply par for the course.

but i know there are more!...

I do my best to offer healthy food choices to my little one. Fruits, veggies, some lean proteins, yogurt, etc. But every now and then, we all enjoy a treat.

Recently, Alexis and I were at our Super Walmart. Even though it was snowing outside with wet roads and freezing temps, for some reason I decided that was a great time to go grocery shopping - the store should be nice and empty. Never underestimate the draw of the beast which is Walmart. There were plenty of people in there. Apparently rain or shine, shopping must continue.

As we walked the aisles, I came across a freezer case full of ready to bake holiday sugar cookies. They were the kind that had the faces in them - snowmen, Santa, and reindeer. While I'm not a fan of sugar cookies, they were quite cheap and the happy reindeer face was enjoyable enough for Alexis to keep her busy as we continued our shopping. I dubbed them, "the cookies Alexis picked out."

We get home, I preheat the oven, and while Alexis sat on the counter next to where I was standing, we pulled out each perfectly shaped reindeer cookie and carefully placed them an inch apart on the sheet. She, of course, was inclined to snatch one up, but when she got a taste of it, surprisingly, she made a face and gave it back. The preheat timer goes off, I stick them in the oven, and 15 minutes later we have happy little sugar cookies. I put them on my festive holiday plate and plopped them on top of our microwave.

Once they were cool enough, I knew I needed to give her one of the cookies "she picked out." She gingerly took it into her hands, inspected it a bit, then slowly took a little bite. I could see the light in her eyes. "Oh my Lord what is this succulent bit of sweetness in my hands?" Slowly she munched on it until it was gone. "Excuse me? Give me another one please." "Ok, one more, but that's enough." And so the drama began. Tear streaming she insisted that she need another one. "Sorry my dear - one cookie is enough for now."

Every time we went through the kitchen, she'd point up at the place where she knew the cookies lay, ready for the taking. From her perch in her high-chair, she would crane her neck up to look at the cookie plate and point persistently. "No, mom...THERE. See it? Right THERE." Needless to say, while she got to have a few of them here and there, Jamie and I suddenly realized that it was our duty as parents to polish off the rest of the cookies, post haste. The sacrifices we make.

danger zone...

With Alexis doing her fair share of walking now (though crawling still seems to be the quicker and more dependable mode of transportation), I look at things around our house much differently. Sharp corners are suddenly screaming at me, begging me to cover them up. Door knobs, while out of reach, strongly remind me regularly of their contents, some of which could undoubtedly be dangerous. I'll admit that we're slacking a tad in the childproofing department, and writing this out has made me realize that I need to get my ass in gear and venture down the ridiculous baby-proofing aisle at Babies R Us.

One room in the house, while the smallest room we have, seems to be the one with the most potential hazards - the bathroom. First off, every single thing in that room is hard as a rock. Tub, tiles, toilet, vanity...all solid. And some of those hards are also sharp - vanity cabinet door corners, bath spigot. Plenty of slippage is possible - wet tub or wet tiles aren't exactly conducive of sturdy footing. And then of course there's a plethora of germs and bacteria. I cringe when I realize that Alexis is bee-lining for the toilet. Don't touch! Don't you know that a man lives here and can't seem to keep his pee in the toilet??

My little one loves to hang out in the tub. She also enjoys toying with us, staring us in the eyes with a steadfast gaze as she shows indication of wanting to stand up. "Alexis...stay sitting," we warn. I'm constantly lifting her up and plopping her back down on her butt. On hands and knees, she'll suddenly decide that attempting to crawl up the side of the tub would be just as fun. That also warrants a warning. Jamie and I, of course, are watching her closely, ready to make our move in the event of a catastrophe.

When bathtime is over, I let the water run out but leave her in the tub. She hangs out as the water slowly runs out, and eventually she's sitting, wet and nekkid, on her bathmat. How she can continue to enjoy herself when I know she must be chilly is beyond me. The other night, Jamie and I are chatting while watching the child in the empty tub, warning her occasionally to take a seat. For a split second, Jamie and I look at each other, and apparently she saw that and sprang to her feet. No good. It was followed by a faceplant with an audible cheek bump against the side of the tub.

Luckily, she walked away with only a hefty bruise under her eye. I figure her pudgy face must have cushioned the fall. There really wasn't much I could do that night - keeping an icepack on a toddler's cheek isn't exactly easy. It could have been worse, but in the end, she's just fine.

The house is dangerous. Children are dangerous. The dogs are dangerous. Let's throw us in there as being dangerous too. Living is dangerous, for goodness sake. All we can do is keep her in our sight and be prepared to lunge or jump when necessary. S**t happens.

share, wouldja?...

I'm incredibly excited to hear that there are folks reading this blog from far and wide - many of whom heard about it from someone that heard about it that got it from someone I know (and facebook doesn't hurt either).

I'd love to have some commenting action going on in response to the posts. I know that plenty of moms out there have the same experiences or have things they could share that others could benefit from hearing. And for those that aren't moms out there, comment too. The more the merrier!! : )

Thanks all for tuning in. It warms my heart and makes me enjoy writing this more then I already did!

we lost her...

Children cry - that's all there is to it. Sometimes it seems that the most random things can set them off and before you know it the world has come to an end over the most mundane things. Within moments, said tragedy is forgotten and life goes on.

There are those occasions, however, when the recovery time does not happen that quickly. It may start off small, but suddenly a point is reached where there seems to be no return. I typically begin with a warning to Jamie of, "we're losing her." If nothing changes, then inevitably it becomes, "we've lost her."

Case in point? The other day I was preparing dinner for us three. Chicken and broccoli were on the menu. I had plopped Alexis in her chair (an attachable number that connects to the table versus being a stand-alone highchair). "Fine," she must have initially thought. "I'll wait." But as I begin the painstaking process of chopping broccoli and chicken into bite-sized pieces, she begins to whine. "I'm working on it sweetpea." The whining gets louder and angrier. "Alexis...is that doing any good?" Of course, now that it's chopped up, we still need to wait for it to cool a tad lest we burn the child's mouth. Now we're beyond whining...it's crying.

Finally, food is cool enough and ready for her. At this point she's red-faced and boogery. When I put the plate of broccoli in front of her and she swipes it with her hand, throwing back her head, I knew we'd lost her. Jamie had come into the kitchen to get his plate and says, "just put it to bed." It's 6:00 - that's not going to happen. And what he didn't seem to understand is that when they're gone, it takes a while to bring them back, and putting her down on the floor or in bed is just going to put her much farther over the edge.

I pull her out of her chair and begin the annoying but necessary process of trying to talk her down off the ledge. There comes that moment when you think you've done it. All that remains is that little quick intakes of breath where she seems to be considering whether she's done or not. You wait, holding your breath, hoping it's done, but then suddenly the head tosses back again and it starts over. It's like post-traumatic stress disorder...whatever was upsetting before is upsetting still.

Finally, I make a big huge show out of Rambo licking her hand, "look look look it's Rambo he's so sweet look look look." Then, I make another big show of munching on her cold chunks of broccoli. "Mmmm." I'm walking on egg-shells. If I put her back in her chair too soon, would it start over? But at the same time I'm not going to hold her through her entire meal. Finally, when the horror seems to have left her mind, I plop her back in her seat and all is well again in the world. Face stained with tears, cheeks beet red, boogies everywhere, she munches away as if nothing happened.

The mood swings of children are amazing. I assume it's because she can't yell at me yet so this is the only way she knows how to express her emotions. She's like a PMSing woman on crack. Good practice for some day being married and driving her husband nuts, I'd say. (We've all been there, haven't we ladies?)

Thank God for our pain in the ass Rambo in this situation. We'll keep him close. He seems to be a good negotiator when she's about to jump off the ledge.

was inevitable...

There are certain things you know are going to happen at some point along the road of parenting. You know they're coming, you just don't know exactly when.

Alexis LOVES bathtime. Plop her in the tub, give her some bubbles and her bath books, and she's set. Sometimes she decides she wants to show me the water by scooping it up in her hands and flinging it toward my face. Yes dear, I know what water looks like. She also enjoys pretending like she's going to eat the bubbles. She'll get a handful of them and hold them right in front of her mouth, staring at me for approval/disapproval. Have at it little girl - they're baby bubbles...I have to assume that they're non-toxic.

Last night she's hanging out, trying her damnest to keep her floaty bath book submerged. After she was nice and prune-y, I popped open the drain and called for Jamie. Jamie's role in the night time ritual is picking her up out of the tub, securely wrapped in her hooded monster towel complete with horns, and taking her to her room to get dressed in her PJs. He hollers, "Be right there!" "Ok," I respond, peaking my head around the half open door.

I look back and Alexis and realize there are lots of things floating around her. "Oh my good lord," I say to myself. "JAMIE!!!!!" You guessed it...there was poo swirling around. He snatched her out of the tub while I quickly shut the drain (can't let that stuff clog it up). I pulled down the shower head to spray the poor child down. She seemed completely oblivious to the situation.

Jamie, having the more easy role in this situation, takes the double cleaned child into her bedroom for PJ time. I'm left with the chore of figuring out how in the world to get this out of the tub. Hmmmm. After some brainstorming, I ventured into the kitchen and got a large straining spoon. If you can use it to lift veggies out of boiling water, you can use it to lift "stuff" out of the tub. I proceeded to go back and forth from tub to toilet, trying my best to not let it make me nauseous.

After my fishing trip was done, it was time to spray the entire bathtub down with Kitchen Disinfecting spray. Figured that'd be nice and tough.

All in all, it was an...interesting experience. As I said, it's one of those things that I knew was going to happen in time. I'll check that one off the list. Let's see which one comes next...

dental hygiene...

Initially, our little one sprouted the typical top two and bottom two front teeth, all pretty much at the same time. And that's all she had. There was no sign of other ones cropping up. Sure, less teeth means less potential for cavities, but no boys in high school are going to want to date a semi-toothless girl.

But then suddenly, more are showing themselves. It's a shame because the best time to see teeth on a child is when they're crying, especially on the changing table. The ones that are coming in are on either side of the top two teeth. They all seem so far apart, but I think that's typical toddler style. Upon closer inspection, I noticed two more. They are these random two teeth halfway between the front teeth and where the molars will be. Very strange.

Along with having teeth comes the need to care for them. I had asked the dentist a while back and was told that, while they usually say to wait until there are 3 or more teeth, some recent studies show that a child should be seen once they have one tooth. One? What are they going to do - wrap a piece of floss around it? Silly dentist researchers. Someone else said that you can wait until they're two years old...now that's a more reasonable answer.

We have an itty bitty pink toothbrush for her. You might be able to brush one adult tooth at a time with this miniature brush. We've done our best to get her to open up and let us get at her grill, but apparently the bristles on a toothbrush tickle quiet a bit on baby gums. She'll giggle for a second then turn her head. We've gotten nowhere. It was recommended that we give her the toothbrush and let her chew on it (much like having Ripley and Rambo chew on a bone to keep their teeth clean, I suppose). But unfortunately, she prefers chewing on the handle much more then the bristles. Toothpaste is out of the question too, so we can't flavor it to appeal to her insatiable love for food.

So, we'll simply need to keep at it and hope that the split second of brush on tooth contact that we can manage does something. At least we can take solace in the fact that these are not her permanent teeth. Does that mean we should ignore them? No. But it sure as hell makes me feel better about what I can only imagine are some funky chompers.

how silly do you look?...

In the morning, when I drop off Alexis at school, there is what seems like a choreographed dance of cars swirling (slowly) around the parking lot, parents pulling children into the building then running back out on a mission to get to work, etc. This morning, as I hurried back to my orange beast, I saw Jada's dad standing by the window of the pre-toddler room. In a little baby voice, he was saying, "bye...bye...bye." He was waving at the window (I'm assuming Jada was on the other side of the window...), bent down and doing a bit of a jig.

It hit me - children are adorable, but in turn make their parents look like absolute fools. This especially applies to fathers. It's one thing for a mom to pull out her cooing babble to entertain a child, but when a dad ups his voice a few octaves and singsongs his way through a nonsense conversation with his kid, it's that much funnier. Example? A few days prior, I'm parked next to a sensible Subaru with a white collar corporate gentleman playing peekaboo with his 6 month old. Just peekaboo with his hands? Oh no - this was a whole body affair. She was in the car in her seat while he popped up and down from outside the car door. He was "boo"-ing and practically giggling away (though I saw no real response from the little one).

While we feel like ridiculous clowns sometimes when we take a step back and realize what exactly we're doing in public around our children (purely for their amusement) I believe it's also a nice, fun release. I highly doubt that the guy in his white shirt and tie plays peekaboo with the folks in the car as he meets them for a business luncheon. I imagine that Jada's dad doesn't stand in his cubicle, poking his head over to the person next to him saying, "bye...bye...bye".

When we're with our children, not only do we get to experience the joy of them being silly or the exuberance of them making us laugh, but we're also given the opportunity to join in. It becomes permissible to make random noises, roll around, laugh at random things, etc. Being a young child looks like fun, and as a parent, you are given a permission slip to join in whenever you please. So even if she looks at you and in her mind says, "Daddy, you're weird" (or if that person in the car next to you thinks, "Daddy, you're weird"), bask in the knowledge that that means you're having honest fun.

nose...

A while back, we'd gotten Alexis to show us where her belly is. We'd ask her, "where's your belly?" to which she'd respond by lifting up her shirt as high as possible and patting her Buddha belly. Sometimes she'd even look down at it, smacking away at something that's so cute on a child but would be so ugly on an adult.

Seeing as we'd conquered the belly, we saw it fit to move along to other things parts. Little did I know that Jamie was already working on the nose. The first few attempts at "where's your nose?" caused her to point her finger toward her face and make a feeble attempt at locating her nose (it must not have been clear where exactly on the face it was). A few tries later the nose was firmly planted in the center of her face. What else? I moved on to the ear. The ear is a toughie. It's hidden under her hair, is on the side of the head, and there's two of them to boot. But lo and behold, she found it!

What I realized was that, when she pointed at her nose or at her ear, she was making obvious sounds resembling the name for the part in question. An audible "no" came out when she touched her nose and now an "eea" for the ear. Add on words like "baby" which they taught her at school (and was validated when she was looking in a mirror in the tub yesterday), and I'd say she's starting to talk. And, wouldn't you know, she's learning things without us having to consciously point it out. Yesterday, in the tub, Jamie said, "where's your piggies?" She bends forward and reaches for her toes. Oh my god! She knew that one? We didn't even teach that one (and were just asking for asking sake).

I absolutely love to talk. Ask Jamie and he'll surely tell you that I do it far too much. I sense that Alexis is venturing down the same road. As she sits with her pile of books in the morning on the living room floor as I get ready, she turns the pages and jibbers away. I dropped her off at school this morning and she stood, hanging on to the side of the ball pit, and chatted to the children around her. Commenting on this, Miss Bethany told me that she's doing very well with her verbal skills.

While she's still not opting to walk (she can do a few steps in a row, but crawling seems to be the preferred method of transportation), the fact that she's showing signs of being smart in the communication department means that much more to me. I was far from athletic but had an easy time excelling in school. So, in my mind, she's doing just like mommy. Forget the soccer...pass me a book.

much overdue pictures...

alleged momentous occasion...

A week or so ago, Alexis and I were hanging out on the couch, and she pulled herself to her feet and stood on her own. A few seconds later, she'd tip back on her hiney, then get right back up again. She was so excited to be standing. Laughing, she'd keep getting up, look at me with a huge smile on her face and giggle, then plop down and start over. Knowing that this was a skill she now possessed, we proceeded to try to coax her to do the same on the floor. She's taken to practicing in some of the most inappropriate places, particularly in the tub. The sides of the rock solid tub are begging to catch her if/when she falls.

Yesterday, I came home and find Jamie and Alexis on the couch, watching TV and sharing some Mini Goldfish crackers. Nonchalantly, he tells me that she took a few steps. "Bullsh*t", I say. We go back and forth a few times, he insisting she did and me essentially calling him a filthy liar.

This morning, as I'm dropping the little Miss off at daycare (oh, I'm sorry, school), I tell Miss Bethany about this awful trick Jamie is playing on me. I ask, "He claims she took steps. Can you practice with her and watch to see if she does it today?" Miss Bethany looks and me and says, "Well, we didn't want to tell you since sometimes moms get upset if they miss it, but Alexis took some steps here yesterday as well." "Are you serious?"

Until I see it myself, I refuse to believe it. As Philosophy professors will sometimes suggest, how can you be sure something is reality if you've never observed it? The world is against me on this one. There is a conspiracy out there. Since Jamie so desperately wanted her to walk, and started insisting that she was either lazy or slow (not very nice, father dear), he decided to use The Secret (if you haven't read it, it's about visualizing something so much that the universe aligns to make it happen - total New Age stuff) and get everyone to buy into this, hoping that if he got those around us to believe it, she would then magically decide to walk.

I will confirm with everyone when she does in fact demonstrate to me that she can walk. Maybe even a picture to support it. Until then, I stand by the title of this post. Alleged is key here.

put that away!...

We have officially put our house on the market. This was our 3-5 year starter home. We're on year 4, have a child and two dogs, and are ready to retire it to move on to our 15-20 year home. We'll see.

As per the TV shows that show you every which way to sell a home, I've done my darnedest to "stage" our humble abode to make it look bigger, cleaner, and warm and inviting. To get it to that point, it required quite a bit of rooting through our things, boxing up items that aren't really needed and stashing those things that we do need in inconspicuous places. Our house looks beautiful. There's nothing on countertops, floors, etc. Just a nice, orderly, non-lived in home (which, c'mon, living is dirty).

Alexis, being the ever curious child that she is, is in a phase where everything that is in must come out (and occasionally it goes back in again only to be pulled out a second or third time). This morning we're in the bathroom as I'm getting ready, and she opens up the vanity cabinets and starts her exploration. Suddenly there are feminine products splayed across the floor. Hair products come flying out (remember, EVERYTHING is stashed away somewhere). I start to put things back in, and of course that doesn't go well. When she finally gives up on the vanity, she moves to some shelving in the bathroom to see what she can pull off/out there.

I love her sense of exploration and curiosity. I adore that, when my purse is in front of her, she peers her little noggin over it to see if it's open, and when it's not she attempts to figure out just how the zipper on my bag works. And once it's open? All contents must immediately be pulled out.

How does one balance supporting a child exploring their environment, touching and evaluating each thing they find, with the fact that things do need to be put away and in their place? At the moment, my strategy has been to let her do her thing until we leave the room, at which point I plop her our of reach of said cabinet/shelf/etc, quickly put it all away, and then move on to getting her interested in something new. I've found that you can continue pulling her away from one thing, moving her on to another, and eventually making it out the door. Whatever works...

the phone call...

When you're a working parent with a child in daycare, you dread that moment when you get back to your desk from a meeting and see a missed call or voice message from the childcare center. Inevitably, you immediately assume that your child is ill and they want you to come pick them up. You check your calendar as you dial, starting to plan for cancelling meetings or getting out of deadlines.

Yesterday, I get back to my desk and see that Goddard called. Ugh. I listen to the message which explains, "Don't worry, Alexis isn't sick, but I do need to talk to you." That can't be good either. It's not an illness emergency, but they don't call you at work to tell you that she enjoyed painting her random mess of colors. I call her back, and she tells me, "Alexis isn't sick, but she's been bitten again."

If you've been following along, you know that this biting thing isn't new. I'm incredulous at this point and can't help but chuckle in my flabbergasted state. The director and I proceeded to have a calm but lengthy discussion about the situation. I genuinely believe her (and can hear in her voice) that she's quite upset about the situation. I can also tell that she desperately wants to tell me which child it is, but that's a no-no.

"Does she provoke this child?" They tell me no, though (as we've noticed at home) she does like to try to touch people's eyes, nose, and mouth. I argue that a finger toward the mouth isn't begging for this girl to grab her arm and gnash as it, but whatever. When I inquire as to whether Alexis seems psychologically affected by this (as in, is she sitting in the corner terrified of all things with teeth) I'm told that within 30 seconds she's ready to go back to playing. She's a laid back child - I can see that being true.

So what's the solution? We talked about the fact that you can't sequester the biter in a cage away from all soft flesh, but what else can be done? From what I'm told, this girl is actually her "best friend." At that age, I'm assuming that simply means they're drawn to each other or something. I'm lost at this concept of friend=bite.

The little ones are all supposed to be moving to the Pre-Toddler room together, but they'll accelerating the biter's transition. It was indicated that sometimes, if a child moves up sooner, they'll stop biting. Makes sense, as those children are older and won't take that crap from a newbie.

Having seen which girl goes right toward Alexis to play, and now being able to witness as one girl moves up quicker, at this point the identity is being revealed. I have no intention of talking smack on her, giving her a cold shoulder, or kicking her on my way through the room. I simply plan to watch intently to make sure the transition happens, and hope that they understand how very unhappy we'll be should I get yet another call.

In Jamie's words, "This is getting f**king ridiculous."

PS - Alexis also bumped her head on something yesterday, resulting in a small mark on her cheek. They gave us TWO incident reports to sign. I can only imagine that they must have felt quite embarrassed about that...

move along...

In the coobie at daycare (which seems to be the exchange hub of all things baby), we recently received a letter telling us that Miss Alexis will soon be making the transition to the pre-toddler room. This move marks the first daycare milestone for her, and also marks the first discount we'll receive in tuition. Getting older? Then you're cheaper to care for.

Jamie and I reviewed this letter, and in it there were certain stipulations that need to be met in order to move up. Some where no problem. Finger foods, for example. She'll eat any foods, finger or otherwise, so that one's covered. But there was one that made me think, "oh no, that's not going to fly with her."

Children in the pre-toddler room are required to take only one nap, between 1:00 and 3:00. Fine - that might work. But, more importantly, the nap needs to occur on a nap mat. These nap mats are a cross between a mini-Ikea mattress and half of a sleeping bag. Some are more stylish then others, and I imagine the need to keep up with the Jones' will force me to find a high end one somewhere. In any case, they are expecting that my daughter lay on this mat, stay there, and sleep.

Somehow they must "train" them to do this, otherwise no child would ever move up and give their parents the gift of a tuition discount. I try not to consider the practices that would work...the ones that would eventually end up on the nightly news with "Goddard straps children down for nap time...that and more tonight at 10." My understanding is that they've been sitting with her and rubbing her back. Power to them. I'll believe it when I see it.

repeat offender...

About a month ago, I shared with everyone that Alexis was bitten at daycare. That one happened around 5:00, and by the time I got her home, all was pretty much right in the world. By bedtime, it was gone.

Jamie brings Alexis home about a week ago and, while holding her, shrugs toward her arm. Took my dense self a second to figure out that I was supposed to look at her arm, but once the simplicity of the gesture made sense to me, I looked. Wouldn't you believe, there were four dark purple little teeth marks. The report indicated that this one had occurred around 9:30 am, and at 5:00 the marks were still quite angry. Not quite seeing it in your mind? How about a visual?


Strangely, I was once again amused. I was especially entertained when I read the boo-boo report. It said that "Alexis was sitting with her friend when her friend bit her in the arm." Friend?? What kind of friend sits next to you and suddenly, out of the blue, reaches over and sticks your arm in their mouth? Can you imagine if someone did that to you while you were in a meeting at work? Friend...yeah ok. So that's twice.

That bite was on a Wednesday. Friday, Alexis came to work with me to the SEI family daycare center. She always has a great time there and, of course, they adore her. Around 12:00 I get a phone call. "Jess, I'm sorry, can you come up here? Someone bit Alexis." ARE YOU KIDDING ME?? A third bite?? And this time at a different center by a different baby??

I have my theory on this one. It is my understanding that babies don't bite because they're angry little beings that have a blood-lust. Some might, I guess, but I'll pretend that those children don't live in our area. Instead, babies bite because they're not sure how else to express themselves. (Not sure what they're trying to express, but I'll let the researchers go on this one.) My theory is that Alexis is so cute that babies around her are at a loss as to how to deal with the adoration Alexis receives. They see this darling child, are overcome by her beauty, and see that everyone wants to spend time with her and not them. So, when backs are turned, they lunge at her and bite her arm. Possibly to tell her she's cute? Or maybe to try to bite off a piece in hopes that they'll digest some cuteness of their own?

I think it's a pretty sound theory. So long as Alexis doesn't become traumatized by being the token chew-toy, I'm pleased that her good looks are causing upheaval in the baby community.

me n' my wagon...

On the 12th, Alexis had her 1st birthday party. While it was a week after the true big day, she doesn't know any different and no one else seemed to care either. With the purchase of a Walmart sheet-cake, you receive a free 3" baby cake for the birthday girl. Initially she had no idea what to do with it, but one guided lick of that icing and it was on. The green and yellow icing was everywhere, but compared to other children it was tame, with it getting no higher then her nose or further then her forearms. Along with cake, there were presents.

She received plenty of great presents. We got a number of sweatsuits, which I love. There is no need for her to wear some sassy jeans to daycare - she's only going to be crawling around anyway. Throw some sweats and a hoodie on and she'll be set. She also got a few toys that bing and bong and ring and ding. Jamie doesn't like those, only because I choose to let her play with them in the morning while he's still asleep. Possibly a sign that she'd like him to wake earlier?

One of the biggest gifts (literally) was the one from my mother-in-law - a big red wagon with seating for two. This isn't your oldschool Radio Flyer. This hunk of plastic lets you tote around two children, has a compartment under one seat (which I find looks alot like a cooler), a door with a latch, and an enormous black plastic handle which us parents get to use to tug the little one along. Could fit the dogs in there if they would let us.

She LOVES this wagon. We have it sitting in the living room (as if we had room for that). We'll plop her in and wouldn't you know, that child will sit in there for at least a 1/2 hour. She gets up from one side and sits on the other. The puts her toys in the cupholder (oh yeah, another feature on this pimped out ride) then takes them back out. Opens the seat. Pulls on the seatbelt (yup - has that too).

She actually shed tears over being pulled out of this thing. I love having it - I can put her in there in the morning while I'm getting ready and know that she'll hang out. She has taken to standing on the seat, which is a no-no, but she'll learn. It's a shame though, because for some reason I don't think this happy little wagon will ever see its day in the sun. It's destined to be the dysfunctional one taking up space in our living room. Not the life it was meant to have, but oh well!

new stats...

Today was Alexis's one year pediatrician appointment. Our little one is still 95th+ percentile for everything. Since, for some reason, everyone is always interested in her dimensions:

Weight is 26 pounds
Height is a little under 32 inches

While she's got some meat on her, everything is proportionate, so it's fine. If she was 95th for weight and 25th for height or something, then we'd have issues! We have a healthy big-little 1 year old on our hands!

much needed pictures...

landmark occasion...

The little one is now 1 year old!! It's a shame that I forgot. Oh yes - this mother managed to forget one of the most memorable birthdays in a child's life. How you ask?

Jamie and I attended a friend's wedding over the weekend. We left Friday morning, returned Sunday late afternoon. We had had plenty of miscellaneous snaffoos along the way (for example, buying the wrong suit), so when packing our belongings for our short trip, I had a massive list with multiple checkmarks next to each. One check when I put it aside in piles. Two checks when it was actually packed into something. And then a final once-over upon being stashed into the car. And that was just for our stuff. We then needed to pack a second set of items for Alexis. Since she was staying with my parents Friday to Saturday, then making the trek to Pitt with them Saturday (staying overnight in the hotel Sat to Sun), there was much to think about.

We were picking up my brother and his girlfriend Friday morning from my parent's house. Bright and early, we arrived at their home, raring to go. Unload Alexis's stuff, load my brothers stuff, move the car-seat to my dad's car, etc. As I'm wrangling with the carseat, attempting to squash it into the Infinity's back seat, Jamie was chatting with my mom inside. After much fenagling (and sweating), I got the seat in and went back inside. Jamie's in the process of telling my mom that she was born about 45 minutes ago.

Oh my goodness gracious. I had completely forgotten that it was Alexis's birthday. How is that humanly possible? Shouldn't some sort of alarm clock inside of me clang the moment my uterus celebrates it's liberation from discomfort? My mom appeared baffled at my misstep. While Jamie didn't react, I'm sure he suddenly branded me as a mother unfit to raise this child. Apparently my anal retentive list making had one thing missing. "Tell Alexis Happy Birthday." - not checked.

Of course, all is well, and she does not appear scarred. This could potentially be a funny story to tell her when she's older. We will be celebrating her birthday with friends and family on the 12th. A week late, but our only option. We can fudge the date when we put the photos in her album - she won't know that it was actually a week later that she was blessed with her gifts and cake. It'll be our secret.

let's review...

I was perusing my own blog in a narcissistic manner and couldn't believe that there are as many posts as there are. For those that just started reading, they may have missed on some of the oldie-but-goodies. So I'm posting links to 5 of my personal faves.

If you're a long-time reader and have some of your own that you love, share!

My all time favorite of all of them. Let the wit begin...
http://babyalexisrich.blogspot.com/2008/09/alexis-1-jessica-0.html

Second absolute favorite - an explanation for my Pooh aversion...
http://babyalexisrich.blogspot.com/2008/11/poo-poo-on-pooh.html

Our frigid trip to get a Christmas tree...
http://babyalexisrich.blogspot.com/2008/12/big-chill.html

My decision that one day, if she wants to strip, so be it...
http://babyalexisrich.blogspot.com/2008_12_01_archive.html

A traumatic Wii induced accident...
http://babyalexisrich.blogspot.com/2009/05/one-fell-off-and-bumped-its-head.html

bite me...

Today, on my way to pick up the little one from "school" (they get to call daycare that when they charge you "tuition"...$800/month worth of it), I made a phone call and ended up chatting with the person for quite some time. I arrived and was in one of those situations where you're chatting on your cell phone, the other person is still really into the conversation, but you're sitting in a parking lot with things to do and you don't have the heart to cut them short.

Finally, there was a place to make a clean break and I head into through the two levels of door security. I head into the infant room. Miss Bethany is sitting on the floor, holding Alexis, who has Miss Bethany in a bit of a bear hug (as much as a bear hug as you can do with arms that short). Bethany is holding something against sad little Alexis (I come to find out that it's a frozen sponge in a plastic baggie - they're version of an icepack).

Bethany says, "We had a bite." "You mean like a bug bite?", I ask. "No, a baby bite." "Who bit her?", I ask. "I'm not allowed to say." Sounds lame, but I already knew that was the rule. I have a friend whose child was considered a biter in daycare. She was regularly updated on her sons "condition", but she wasn't allowed to know who he bit and vice versa. I guess they don't want throw-downs in the parking lot.

Whoever bit her appears to have four teeth, since there are four little red bumps on her arm, two and two. Time to do some mouth investigation when I get there next time. Open up - how many teeth do you have? In any case, I started to look around the room and think just how innocent they all look. How did the biting go down? Did the baby crawl over to her, look her in the eyes while slyly grasping her wrist, then chomp hard when she thought Alexis wasn't paying attention? And then what? Alexis screams and the baby sits there wondering what just happen? Does that child have a satisfied smile on the inside? "Ha! That's what you get for being so damn cute and stealing all of the attention!"

I knew bumps and bruises were bound to happen, but never thought about preparing myself for bites!

a new 'do...

A few times, we'd heard "Aww...her hair is getting so long!" And it truly was, but in typical baby style, it didn't seem to feel the need to grow in evenly. The top section decided to get longer and longer, hair growing over her eyes. The side and back have kept pace, but in what seemed a much slower rate. I also heard (more frequently), "She can't see - she needs her bangs cut." That one came from my mom, and we heard it about every time we went over there. But there was some truth behind it.

Not wanting to take the plunge and cut some of those soft, wispy strands shorter, I opted to try some clips. (I refused to move into the headband world - particularly those that had the lace and flower attached...puh-leeze.) The clips, bedecked with colorful butterflies, looked adorable.

Unfortunately, super soft hair has its downfalls - nothing seems to want to stay put. Sure - out and about, the clip stayed in. But begin to play and move around? It would be a lost cause. This was particularly noticeable when I'd pick her up from daycare and find that the clip that had traveled in with her in the morning was now MIA (typically stashed in her lunchbox, of all places). I realized that constantly slipping clips have no place in the daycare world. There's a reason the packaging says, "Choking hazard - not for children under 3." My daughter eats everything, so there's the first threat, but what stops another baby from looking at her, thinking "Damn that would look sexy on me too...or I'll eat it...one or the other"? I'd hate to be responsible for a death-by-accessory for the sake of beauty.

So the time came. Let's cut the bangs. I get out our best scissors, check in with Jamie who is still sleeping. "Can I cut her hair or do you want me to wait until you get up?" "I don't care," he replies. Ok - works for me. We sit on the bathroom floor, I try to hold a chunk of that incredibly silky hair between my fingers, hair-dresser style. And then she looks up at me, hair slipping out from my fingers. Hmmm...I'm going to need her to sit still. I reach up, grab a bottle of Jamie's cologne (blue bottle - that should be fun, right?) and try again. I was on a mission to make it look very natural. No straight lines here. I'd snip upwards, going for a piece-y, non-linear look. I made my way across her bangs, and did a really good job, if I may say so myself. Not evidence of a hair cut here. Simply a magically shorter bang, complete with increased visibility.

So there it is. The first home haircut. I didn't keep a lock of her hair - that's kind of creepy to me. I'd rather not. I have no future in the hair business, but this do-it-yourself jobby turned out well. Kudos to me.

take a stand...

An unexpected trip to VA for a funeral (though I guess all funerals are unexpected, right?) has put me a bit behind on the blogging front - my apologies.

We taught Alexis the obligatory "How big's Alexis? So big!". I have no idea where that little trick came from and why it's a requirement to teach all babies how to do it, but it is pretty darn cute. Those stubby arms reaching up as far as they can go, big smile on the face - enough to make you want to ask her over and over and over just how big she is. Poor thing.

Alexis isn't walking...I figure standing on her own is something pretty necessary in order to get to that step. Everything takes practice, so I've been holding her by her pits, planting her feet on the floor, and seeing what happens when I start to let go. What's funny is that when you hold her right above the ground like that, her favorite response is the try to bounce. Fun, but no way to learn to stand. You can't jump yourself into a balanced pose. The solution? To get the munchkin to stand up straight, I ask her "How big's Alexis?" She stretches her body out straight, feet flat on the floor, and it gives me a chance to let go.

I was VERY excited to realize that, even if it's only for 15 seconds, she can hold herself upright! Once her display of big-ness is over, the hands come back down, as does her butt. But that's ok. I've seen it first hand - the ability is there. I think it's just a matter of time before I can plant her feet, minus the question, let go, and have her stand on her own for longer. Next up - take a step. But for now, some upstretched, reached out balancing will do just fine!

down came the rain...

It seems that every day over the past week, there have been bouts of sun followed by torrential downpours. It's been coming down in droves, keeping the ground good and wet, thus giving us a nice flow of moisture in our basement. Gotta love having an old house like ours. We also have some major gutter clogs. Since the owner of our house was 80+ when he passed away, I imagine he wasn't up there cleaning them out. And since Jamie and I are lazy bums about house maintenance, we haven't been up there either. Though we have screen-like contraptions over them to keep gook out, apparently they're malfunctioning.

One place where the mesh isn't doing its job is along the roof of our front patio. It's right over the opening in the railing, where you'd walk in and out, that we have the most debris, I guess, because we have this waterfall that comes splashing down. It's actually sort of entertaining, since even if it's not raining that hard, any guests need to run through that waterfall to get in.

The most recent rain came at about the same time that Alexis was getting tired and a bit fussy. I figured we'd go out onto the patio and check out the rain. The pooches came with, sans leashes, since when it rains, they refuse to go outside. I knew they weren't going anywhere. The rain was coming down so hard that most of the patio was getting wet, but there was a place or two where you could get close to the waterfall.

I got us right up close to it, and at first Alexis seemed to be a bit freaked out, but then she stretched out her hand, put it in the steam, and smiled. She swished her hand back and forth, in and out of it. She'd take her hand out, look at me, look back at the water and stick her hand in again. It looked like she was trying to grab it too, which of course was a fruitless effort, but enthralling nonetheless.

I continue to be amazed and enjoy watching her experience and explore new things. While I look at the rain and worry about what's happening to our basement, she's thinking that its one of the coolest things she's ever seen. While the dogs hide under the bench and do their best to stay out of the spray, she's reaching her arm out as far as she can to get one more handful of water. We should all take a second to look at what a baby is appreciating, observe that something ourselves, and do our best to enjoy something as if it was the first time we'd ever seen it. It would make the world such a new, fun place, and we can all use a little of that...

i'm sorry...what did you say?...

Alexis has been jibbering for quite some time now. Of course, jibbers evolve. While Jamie initially could relish in the fact that "d" and "a" seemed to be the only sounds in her vocabulary, she's spreading the love now and making all sorts of pretend words.

When I sit with her, alot of times she'll point at something, and as far as I can tell she enjoys us looking wherever she's pointing, and isn't actually calling our attention to anything specific. But that's ok...we'll humor her. Most of the time, she points and makes a sound. Or, as she's playing with her plastic-standie-uppie-thing with a gazillion musical buttons, she'll sometimes "talk" to it, no doubt explaining to the contraption that she'd prefer the previous song over the one it's switched to.

What I've been wondering is whether she has a word in her head and simply doesn't know how to make it, or if she's just impulsively making sounds simply because she's thrilled, enthralled, or bored. I can't imagine that each of those garbled expressions of who-knows-what are random, instinctual outbursts, but at the same time, I'm not sure that she looks at Ripley, knows the word dog, tries to say it, but has no idea how. I obviously know that what she's doing now isn't talking, but what exactly is it?

When children do begin to talk, usually its only mom or dad that can actually understand her. I'm sure you've all been in the situation where a 3 year old looks at you, tells you something, and you have to look at their mom helplessly, lest you agree to something you shouldn't have or offend the little one by saying yes to something that obviously required a multiple word response. Usually mom knows, but of course sometimes we all need to resort to simply smiling, nodding, and hope for the best. What will be interesting is that we're teaching Alexis some German too. So not only does she have English words, but she'll have the German sounds to throw in there. Good luck to any adult who tries to figure her out in the future.

So for now, when Alexis points and "says" something to us, Jamie and I will continue to say, "yeah, mmhmm...that's the [insert whatever is in the general vicinity]." Hopefully she's not pointing to the couch while we say "doggie" or something, otherwise [insert higher power here] help us all.

bubble mouth...

Sometimes I manage to catch a picture of her that I think is just painfully cute. And this would be one of them...

baby safe...

Oh the drama. Alexis is on the move. What was an awkward, three step, slow stutter crawl has become an all out dash across the floor. With hands pattering and knees scraping (can't imagine that feels good), she moves from one place to another. She makes an adorable, high pitched panting noise too, as if it was the most exciting yet strenuous thing she'd done that day (which it very well may be). And the mission? To get to something that she's not supposed to have as quickly as possible, preferably before mom and dad see what she's trying to grab.

Case in point? Jamie has the upstairs room of our 1950's Cape bedecked like a theater. It's by no means the glamorous home theaters some people have, but this room has a big TV, horror collectibles along the walls, and movie posters hung everywhere, covering what would be the slanted ceiling in the room.

Alexis and Jamie spend some time up there on his one-on-one days with her. Large and carpeted, it's a great place to practice her crawling skills. It's not baby-proofed yet though. In a blink of an eye should could grab a hold of mini-Freddy Krueger and pop him in her mouth. His bladed fingers would no doubt get stuck in her throat and an emergency procedure would ensue (though that would be one heck of a story for her to tell when she got older).

Yesterday, as she skittered around, Jamie said she sat on her butt, reached next to her, and moved her hand to her mouth in a matter of seconds. Jamie leaped from the couch, pried her mouth open in the same way we do with the dogs when they've gotten a hold of something naughty, and pulled out a THUMB TACK! After hearing the story, I immediately decided that Alexis is getting dropped off somewhere this weekend and Jamie and I are clearing all small plastic edibles from toddler level. I refuse to purchase a toilet lock (really??), but there are plenty of things for her to grab a hold of and tip onto her noggin'.

She'll be faced with plenty more inanimate (or maybe even living) things that she'll be able to grasp and attempt to eat, but at least we'll know that the $65 Texas Chainsaw Massacre model home will not lose its precious Leatherface figurine.

fine dining...

Baby food jars are great. All of a baby's nutrients are jammed into a small jar. Fruits, veggies, meats...all in one jar. How much more convenient does it get? It's even easier then formula...with those you have to wash bottles. Here, pop the top, grab a spoon, eat, done.

We have now moved to a new stage of eating, and it's actually alot of fun. She can eat "things" now. As long as you can make it into something small sized and it's smooshy enough, it's fair game. Today, for example? A SpecialK Red Berries waffle (have to watch our figures, us gals), nuked to soft perfection and torn to shreds. Scatter it all over the table in front of her (who needs plates?) and off she goes.

We still give her jarred food too - they have Stage 3 foods that are pretty much the same stuff that was in the Stage 2 jars, only they turned the blender off a little sooner, leaving some miscellaneous chunks intact. And she still gets 2-3 bottles a day. But we've really taken to giving her all sorts of (healthy) goodies.

Unfortunately, this all has made it quite clear to me that Jamie and I have a horrible diet. I wanted her to have fruits with lunch and dinner, but we had not-a-single fruit anywhere in our house. I want her to definitely get a veggie with dinner, but that means that I need to cook a veggie for us. Hmmm...guess that wasn't a regular thing in our house since now I need to make a concious effort to make them. Mac n' cheese wasn't a problem, but I'm not sure it's a good sign that, out of fruit, veggies, and mac n' cheese, the latter was the only one we had readily accessible.

I've realized that her health seems more important then ours. I'm not saying it's a trade off. I'm simply saying that I check labels to make sure there aren't preservatives or additives or what-have-you in her food, but I'm more then happy to munch on a frozen pizza containing almost half of my daily sodium allotment. I buy bananas, blueberries, etc for her, but don't think to pop some of that goodness into my own mouth. Pass me the ice cream, but you, Alexis, need to eat this organic yogurt.

It's not that she's teaching us a lesson - but she's teaching us to teach ourselves a lesson...I think...not sure that makes sense...but you guys know what I mean. I'm going to take a peak at and poke my love-handle, then waltz myself downstairs and snag a honeydew melon out of her fruit stash. Our secret...

bound to happen...

Alright ladies and gents - it's happened. I am officially, for the past week, without something to write about. It's not that Alexis isn't doing anything. She's pulling herself up like crazy on stuff. She's in love with putting her hands in Ripley and Rambo's water dish. She almost ate a piece of dog food the other day. She went to a hibachi place with us and freaked out about the wall of fire the performance starts with (only to be calmed by the balloon that the sweetest little asian woman brought to her).

Things have been happening, but the wit was missing all week. I can't write without that little spark of fun and creativity that I've come to add to my posts (or at least what I think I'm adding).

Rest assured, it'll be back soon, I'm sure of it. Just don't think I've abandoned everyone and ended my blogging responsibilities. Be prepared - my writers block will disappear and you'll suddenly be overwhelmed with how fabulous the next post is. Or not - don't want to set the expectations too high!!

plug and play...

Yesterday I had the distinguished pleasure of exercising my contribution to the US judicial system - I had to report for Federal Jury Duty. To get to Philly, I drove to Wayne (approximately 45 min from home), hopped a Regional Rail to Market East Station (another 30-40 minutes), and trekked 6 blocks to the courthouse.

Seeing as it was a weekday, I was knee deep in commuter foot-traffic. And while I was surrounded by other people - to the point of actually touching shoulders with a random man in the train seat next to me - no one acknowledged anyone else. It wasn't until I was actually seated in the uncomfortable "juror's lounge" amongst about 300 others that I saw strangers start chatting - and that was no doubt out of pure boredom.

What I noticed, particularly with the younger people I passed, was that there were more white cords attached to ear buds then I could have counted. Everyone's plugged into something - whether it be MP3s, games, movies, etc. In the room of miserable jurors, quite a few Gen Xers had their iPhones out - most of which were watching their favorite flick, I'm sure. (I currently am without an iPhone, but once my iron grip of a cell phone contract expires, I'm sure I'll enter the smart phone arena too.)

So fine - commuters - enjoy your plugged in lifestyle. But I've also seen the difference in kids and teens. We were recently out to eat, and in a booth next to us, there was a mother with what looked like 3 kids. No lie - all three kids were texting away on their Sidekicks while mom sat in silence, looking bored and staring into space while they waited for food. Teens spending hours on the phone at home, tying up the phone line (thus requiring call waiting)? No longer needed - texting and IMs have become the protocol. Why bother talking when you can text? How sad.

The advances in technology happen at such an insane pace. When I was 18, I wouldn't have believed you if you'd told me that there'd be a gaming system where four late 20's people could sit around like kids and play in a band together. I wouldn't have believed you if you had told me that we could have a cell phone that you could shake to roll dice. I can't even begin to fathom what Alexis will get to enjoy (and what I'll then be completely lost with)...

procreation...

We don't fish for them...we simply get compliments on our baby. It's not like I say to a friend, "I wonder if my child is cute" and they then assure me that "Yes, of course, your daughter is absolutely adorable" while they think to themselves, "If that makes her feel better, but I know that her baby's a troll." They're just honest to goodness flat out compliments.

We recently received a gushing compliment in response to the bathing beauty pix below. In addition to the comments about how cute she looks in her swim suit, how chic her hair looks pushed to the side, and how overall adorable she is, we were told that seeing a baby that cute made this person want to add another munchkin to her bunch. Mind you, this person has a delectable son that you could just eat up, and she acknowledged his cuteness lest he was listening to her voice message. I'm sure some of the attraction to Alexis, if you have a son, is the thought of purchasing all of those fantastic outfits that baby manufacturers seem to prefer to make.

With the knowledge that Alexis has inspired others to procreate, I feel a bit responsible for universal maladies like overpopulation. Are the parents of adorable children the ones that perpetuate folks to have multiple children? If parents have 2 semi-cute children, but lay their eyes on a star like ours, do they say to each other, "Wow...if that's possible, maybe we should try again." Suddenly their allotment of 2.5 children per household has been reached and surpassed, and there's yet another mouth to feed and person to gobble up the Earth's resources (and unfortunately that mouth is nowhere near as aesthetically pleasing as they'd hoped).

In 3 weeks, I have an appointment to have a sure fire form of birth control added to my system. (I'll spare you the details of this scientifically complex yet safe and reversible method I've opted for.) I'm going to try to keep the cute factor to a minimum for the time being. I don't want to overdo it. Jamie and I need to pace ourselves...in turn pacing the Earth's population. Over dramatic, sure. But don't ever underestimate the power of a toothless grin.

more acceptable...

For some reason, as I mentioned in a previous post, turtle = terror. This sorta-lady-bug contraption was much more acceptable for her and she enjoyed her day in the pool.

Huh...well this isn't that bad...
(And yes, eye spy David's thingie)

You know...you could have just bought this thing in the first place...

What did I tell you? Now you listened and I loved it.

toofers...

"Aaawww...she's so cute." "Does she have any teeth yet?"
"No."
"Wow...almost ten months and no teeth...huh."
"Nope, no teeth, but I like her toothless grin."

So goes the conversation. But alas, it's time to say goodbye to that adorable toothless grin. During a hissy fit after she finished her Stage 3 corn and rice concoction, Jamie noticed something in her mouth. No, it wasn't a stray piece of rice that she forgot to chew and swallow. It was a tiny speck of something on her gums. He asks me to look at it, and if that's what it looks like when teeth come in.

Not being a dental student or pediatrician, I had no real education in what new baby teeth look like, but in my inexperienced opinion, it appeared that there was a tooth coming in. A small little white blip on her bottom gum - indented a tad. Yes - I believe in fact we have what Jamie and I call "toofers". "Where are your toofers?", we'd ask her. Now she can respond, "Right here...goodness...now get me some pain meds and leave me be." Someone had told me that, if adults had to teeth, they couldn't bear the pain. I can't tell if it hurts her, which probably means it doesn't, thank the powers that be. I should shut up lest I jinx it.

Crawling...teeth...she's just throwing everything in all at once this month. Walking and talking too? That's pushing it!

with a little incentive...

Alexis has been doing her very best to move to where it is that she wants to go. There's tipping, twisting, pulling, etc, but for some reason there was no crawling. She was doing some Downward Dog yoga poses - head on the floor, arms straight, legs straight. That's no way to get somewhere little girl.

At 9.5 months, there had to be a way to get her moving. We recently introduced the little cheese poofs and rice crackers to her. While they're a disgusting mess when she eats them (cookie water dripping down her shirt, smooshy cracker bits all over her hands), she loves them and is content munching away. I realized that I might be able to harness her insatiable appetite to get what I wanted.

Crouched on the floor, I held out her cheese poof, essentially bribing her to come to me. And wouldn't you know, she took a few "steps" on her hands and knees. Tah dah - a little poof goes a long way. Unfortunately, it seemed that the crawling was a blip and it ended there.

Monday, at Goddard, I shared this momentous occasion. Short of crumbling cookies all over the floor and hoping she moves, I asked that they work with her to see if we could have a repeat performance. End of day, I returned to day care and asked how she did. Apparently, her small move the night before must have inspired her. I was told that at one point in the morning, a little red ball rolled away from her, and, deciding that the red ball was the most important toy in the room, she proceeded to skitter across the floor on her hands and knees. Miss Bethany told me that after that, she was crawling everywhere.

I was so excited to get her home and watch her new skills. We put her down, took a few steps back, and begged her to come to us. Nothing. Did they lie to me?? Babies make liars out of you, that's for sure. The whole evening passed with no crawling. I imagine that she needs to be much more self-sufficient at day care. At home, she has us trained. There, she's on her own.

I'll have to call Jamie and ask for an update. While I'm excited for this new stage, with it come new responsibilities, especially because she easily pulls herself up if she's next to something sturdy. We'll need to walk the baby safety aisle and pick up all things safety. We'll need to move Jamie's collectibles to higher ground. We'll need to put up the baby gates we'd originally purchased for the dogs. Floors will need to be cleaned much more regularly. Dog food will need to be monitored. And so on and so forth.

I'll make sure to take some pictures to post. I'll especially need to capture Downward Dog. Stay tuned!

daddy day...

Yesterday was Jamie's first father's day. Just as we didn't do much for me for mother's day, yesterday wasn't all that eventful either. Alexis had decided that I desperately needed a Wii game as my gift on mother's day, she decided that Jamie needed My Bloody Valentine 3D. She has great taste. A nice big breakfast from scratch and some great dinner at my parent's house sealed the deal.

I'm enamored with the Jamie / Alexis relationship. Men with babies are too cute, and make that baby a girl, and the moosh factor is even bigger. Jamie does just about everything in life better then me (really, he does), and there are definitely things that Jamie does with Alexis where I just can't compete. The way she laughs when he tumbles her over and blows on her belly, the way she giggles when Jamie tosses her around, the way he makes her smile when he walks in and gives her a big happy face...those are all things where I can't compete. I can try, but I just won't win.

So Happy Father's Day to my dear hubby who has been doing such a fabulous job with his little girl. : ) We love you!

give it up...

I enjoy being mom. Such a blunt statement. I guess it's a given? Pop her out and love her and love the act of loving her? And I do - I absolutely adore this pudgy lump which is my daughter. And the role of mom? I like it too. I knew that I would never be obsessive super-mom, but I can hang.

My goal as mom has always been to tell the straight truth about this thing called motherhood (and have made every attempt to share those truth-isms on this blog). Just as I am comfortable saying that someone else could have gladly kept her from 0-3 months and then returned her to me, I'm also ok with saying that there are days where I would be more then happy to drop her off somewhere and pretend that we don't have her. And I don't just mean having a break. I mean that I actually want to forget that I'm a parent for a bit and take time back to when it was just me and my husband with less cares in the world. Call the Bad-mom police if you want to, but you know you've thought it before too.

What's a bit ironic is that the things that I think I want to do where it seems that baby is interfering - they're things we didn't really do before we had her. For example, I was thinking the other day, "Man, I could stand to get in shape...maybe Jamie and I can run together, but how's that going to work with the baby?" Who am I kidding? I don't run...never did, never will, and especially can't with Jamie since his athletic ability is exponentially higher then mine and I'd end up trailing along in panting despair anyway. I guess it's the whole concept that, though I wouldn't want to run with Jamie anyway, it's the fact that I don't really even have the option.

Before anyone gets worried, don's misread this as me becoming disgruntled over motherhood and griping away to anyone that will listen. It's simply that I've truly recognized the overwhelming feeling, at times, where I can distinctly remember how things were when it was me, Jamie, and our pups.

Different then? Yes. Bad now? No. Just different, period. It's nice that we have family babysitters galore. Jamie and I can drop her off and slip back into our old world. And, in addition to getting things done and hanging out in peace, we can do all the things that couples do when they're home all alone...... ; )

new pictures...

Can stand in her crib now and lick away at the rail...

She likes to show us her bottom gums...


There's the big beautiful smile...

Guess she can't be cute all of the time...

This doesn't go on Parent magazine

i win...

Some people say that every mom will think that their child is the most beautiful child in the world. But my mom has said that she can't see that being true. I agree...every mom loves their child more then any other one in the world, but some parents can't be so delusional as to think that they're leprechaun of a child is the pageant winner. But this comes from a mom that has a child that receives compliments on a regular basis. How's that go again? Oh yeah, "Oh my gosh she's beautiful...absolutely beautiful" or "Aww, did you see that baby we just passed?"

Beauty and cuteness aside (it's all in the eye of the beholder anyway, right?), I think temperament is something different all together. While all moms might look at their child and think they belong on the next cover of Parent (even if it would drop subscription rates to a record low and bring in tons of letters to the editor), I don't think parents can deny the way their children behave..... Wait a second - yes, they can.

There are parents crazy enough to think that their child got a D because it's the teacher's fault. If I got a D (this honor student will remind everyone that that may have only happened once, and I blame Jamie for derailing me with his 16 year old swagger) then it was MY fault, not Mr Somethingorother. Lied about where I was going for the night? My fault, not society's. Ugh - now I'm disgusted by what I'm writing and have to pet my pug to make things all better.

The whole point of this post (which didn't go where I thought it would), was that, when I picked Alexis up the other day, I was told "You know, Alexis has become a favorite around here. Teachers from other rooms stop by just to say hi to her." I'll gloat for a second. That being said, I asked if she was moving around alot (aka pulling up, etc). "Honest answer? Not really." Apparently she's so sweet that she's content just sitting there taking everything in. Baby comes and grabs her toy? Ok - I'll watch you play. Someone drops their toy near her? I'll reach for it...it'll do. Content babies don't really have a huge drive to move - why go over there when the sky is blue and the sun is shining right here?

So for the moment, I will revel in the thought that my child really might be able to be on the cover of Parents magazine. I'll bathe in the glory of having a baby that people want to purposely see and complement on her sweetness. My child may grow up to be a funny looking terror, so I'll make sure to love every second of this.

checklist please...

A three day trip to DC for work at the end of last week and a stomach bug yesterday has completely derailed my blogging - deepest apologies.

Yesterday, Jamie took the little miss to her pediatrician appointment. Together we had formulated a list of questions. How much should she be eating? How many ounces of formula? What can/should she be eating now? What about water and juice? And how about her fingernails...they're awfully ridged...is that ok? And her one eye can be super runny and a bit goopy at times. What's that all about?

When Jamie returned, I was holed up in bed, praying my ailment would pass (and praying that it wasn't contagious, lest he need to turn around and go right back to the doctor). Though standing made me feel super-yucky, I immediately got up to hear all of the exciting tid-bits of baby information.

Continuing to stay at the top of the growth charts, she's holding on to that 95th percentile across the board - height, weight, and noggin'. With two tall parents that were pudgy babies, it's to be expected. She had one shot and I was told she was a trooper. They also pricked her heal to extract some blood for blood-work, and Jamie said she barely cared. But what about all of our questions?

Apparently, as Jamie started down the list of "here's what she eats now...how many calories or ounces should we be looking for", Dr. Klein stopped him. She explained that there is no right or wrong. Alexis is a healthy baby - what we're doing is working just fine. Try introducing a bit of this and a bit of that and follow your gut. She shared that her one child, after a few bites, would clamp his mouth shut and be done with it. Her other child would eat and eat and eat until you would think he'd pop but would always want more. That would be Alexis.

I want answers! I get it, and it makes total sense. I'm not angry about it. But I am a checklist person. Before traveling, I write down everything we need, even if it's terribly obvious. When driving somewhere new, I bring detailed directions along and check them obsessively to make sure I'm prepared for the next turn. I want to know what to do and when to do it. But alas - babies just don't fit into checklists.

In the beginning, I was told that babies will tell you when they're sick or when they're hungry or what have you. And we've seen that firsthand. I was strong-willed and left the baby books behind - they couldn't make up their minds anyway. The only checklist we could live by was early on when she was screaming. Diaper? Check. Hungry? Check. Tired? Check. None of the above - good luck.

It's obvious to me that children don't fit a checklist. Even up until the point where they move out, they'll never follow documented rules. I need to get used to flexibility and trial and error now. It'll only get more complex with age!

that confirms it...

Let's revisit the turtle. We were at my parent's house yesterday, and while the pool was a chilly 76 degrees, we were hanging out around the pool, enjoying the sun and cursing the intermittent clouds. Alexis was sitting on the end of the pool, one hand grasping the same metal railing she'd been dancing on the weekend before, one toe stretched far out enough to fling water around.

Omi suggests, "Go get the turtle...I'm curious". A novel idea - let's figure out whether it was the pool or the turtle. I approached with the big, green, smiling turtle and set it down next to her. Her eyes got big, she kicked her feet a bit and raised her hands, and then her face got red and she started to cry.

I knew this cry - it was the "I'm afraid get me out of this situation" cry. She'd had the same melt-down the first time she was in the tub and I had the water running. We've gotten past that one, but I'm not sure we'll get past the turtle. Omi picked her up, I took the turtle away, and lo and behold, pleasant Alexis returned.

I've set out to find a non-descript pool float. Target has one that appears to be an inflatable ring with a fabric seat (which I figure would be more comfortable then plastic leg holes). I see no faces on the picture online. There is nothing sticking up from it. There is a canopy, necessary for today's evil sun rays. I intend to look today and purchase if it seems up to par.

Short of getting her a bathing suit with a built in floaty, she'll need to learn to love some sort of seated floating device, lest she be required to learn to swim immediately. As old-timers say, "Throw her in...she'll learn."