A Recap at 13

Given the post rate of this blog, the February post-a-day challenge has me covered until 2011. Right? Right?

Oh no, I wouldn’t do that to you gentle readers. So allow me the pleasure of a recap. I will start with the young mistress of the house.

I thought about personals today. Remember those? Before dating sites, there were personal ads in newspapers—you had to convey your essence in just 50 words or less. Here’s Vivian in 22 words: Thirteen month old enjoys farm animals, short walks, shoes, juice from the box and cheese; seeks parental unit for repetitive tasks and fun.

Don’t you want to call her number? Maybe read her the Animals board book for the twenty-first time?

After having two children who are so closely spaced together, the answer to the nature or nurture question in this household is: nature. Parental Unit #2 and I often ask one another, “where did she learn that?” Truly, we’re astonished at her rapid progress.

She walks. Just shy of her first birthday on April 13, she started the freestyle boddler walk, but crawling remained the chosen mode of transportation. Yet, over the last two weeks, she has favored walking over crawling. Now, I would say she is fully bipedal, and looking rather smart in her frilly togs. (I do have little girl dress fever. I regularly solicit my mom buddies for hand-me down dresses with Peter Pan collars, puffy sleeves, and smocking.)

She talks. Around 8 months, she said, “ball.” Compared to young Master B (oops, I said I wasn’t going to do that), she is quite verbal. I don’t know if that is because of the unique being she is or because she is a girl. Every day seems to reveal yet another word she has picked up—hair, bicycle, or Parental Unit #2’s favorite: atomic elephant.

She eats with gusto. Yes, yes, she eats with the usual boddler bachanalia of food . But I just love the way she grunts if she likes the food she has tried. UMMMMMMM. She will also say Yummy, Yummy. For the best foods, for the foods that meet her boddler’s whimsical palette, only UMMMMMM will do.

More Teeth!

The post-a-day challenge has met its match, one front tooth twisting its way through Vivian’s gums. At 4am, a very agitated young Miss Vivi cries out for her Parental Units. Poor Parental Unit #2 (saint that he is!) gets up and soothes the young lass. Even though I am spared this 4am ritual, my body still wakes up. Sometimes, I am up for the day. And sometimes, just as I am about to fall asleep, I hear Bertram calling for “Daddy,” but what he actually wants is for one of us to change his diaper. So after hearing both children wake, fuss, and settle back down, then I am on high mother alert mode. By the time I settle back down, suddenly it’s 8am.

Teeth-- you’ve won this round, but you haven’t won the game!

Keep on Going

The picture above was taken on Christmas Day 2009. It is one of the rare photos where the four of us are together in one shot. Usually, young Master B demands to play with the camera, which results in extreme close up shots of him reaching for the camera and no candid shots. In looking at our pictures over the last half of 2009, you would think we only had one child: Vivian.

Anyway, I like this photo even though the kids aren’t looking at the camera. I like that Hal and I chose to wear pants with crazy patterns. (Personally, I think my psychedelic print beats his plaid. What do you think?) I like that Hal and I attempt to keep smiling in spite of the fact that our son is throwing a tantrum because he couldn’t have the camera. I like that young Miss Vivi appears highly amused by her brother’s antics. I like this photo because we tried to capture the impossible: the stillness of four human beings. We’re failing miserably, but we seem to be having a grand time. We keep on going.

A long time ago, my friend Matt told me a story. (Matt recently joined the Cult of New Parents. Welcome, Matt!) I can’t seem to remember the exact plot, but at the end of it, a character said, “sometimes, you just got to keep on going.” This probably does not translate well—since it comes from a fuzzy memory of a story and character I can’t recall. Yet, that line has always stuck with me. The line sticks on days like today, when I have these kinds of thoughts:

I got to see my kids for two waking hours, and those two hours happen to be when they are cranky and whining.

Keep on going.

I work and my to-do list doesn’t seem to get any shorter.

Keep on going.

It’s 10pm, and I’m so tired I could fall asleep on my laptop.

Keep on going.

Dolls!

And, here is the companion photo to the Trains! post. She's only 10 months, but young Miss Vivi is fascinated by dolls.

Getting Serious for February

In honor of the short month of February, I’ve issued a post-a-day challenge to Adrian’s mom over at Apparently. To show that I am 100-percent committed, I have posted a serious picture of young Miss Vivian.

As predicted, the dental storm has arrived. Young Miss Vivi now sports two bottom teeth—perfect for treats such as super-ripe and peeled pear on a fork or the rice cereal puffs that Bertram calls “squishy flowers.” With her new chompers in place, Vivi seems to believe that food is for the taking, be it your food or her brother’s food. You truly do not want to be the poor parental sod who decides to take away the food before young Miss Vivi is done. For then, you will awaken Vivian the Bad who will scream and shake her sticky fists at you. And that is not good.

Sitting Bull

Our Aries baby just began to sit unassisted two weekends ago. Between this latest milestone and starting solids, I am starting to reclaim my body as “mine” again. For me, surviving babyhood is about celebrating these small victories back to the self I once was—BC, before children.* Although I am still young Miss Vivian’s personal milk slave, so we have some distance to travel before I can stop wearing shirts with an eye toward easy access.

I find young Miss Vivian to be a focused baby. She sees a toy—usually one with small, removable parts—that she wants and rolls toward it. She grabs her bottle with both hands. In the morning, you better make sure that your coffee cup remains beyond her reach. Young Miss Vivi is the wiley sort of baby who will arch her back and strrrretch in order to gain that extra inch toward the desired item just past the kitchen table’s Forbidden Zone—home to adult beverages and sharp utensils. In fact, we gave up on using the Bumbo seat in favor of the high chair for feeding time. Both of us, parental units, quickly tired of her extending her apple-puree covered limbs and grabbing anything within a five-inch radius of her blue plastic seat.

Overall, I would say that Vivian is a pleasant baby. Unlike her brother, she managed to sail through newborn phase without colic. And, I won’t waste more blog space talking about how well she sleeps. Every day we do a little happy dance as we give thanks to the baby sleep gods. Unfortunately, Parental Unit #2 and I are about to enter a new world with Vivian, a world so scary that it makes my miserable pregnancy seem like easy gravy—I am talking about teething. What? I can’t hear you because 1) this is a blog and 2) my shoulders are up to my ears in tense anticipation of the coming dental storm.

*as if that is even possible!

Okay, Little Lady

When Vivian cries, my response is, "okay, little lady." Bertram, my ever-faithful, repeating toddler, says it too, like an echo.

Brother and Sister

047, originally uploaded by hal(var).