Saturday, May 26, 2007

Open dyer eyes

You woke up so happily at 5:59 a.m. and said, "Mom?" I said "yes, sweetheart?" "Open dyer eyes," you said as you pryed open my eyes with your sharp fingernails. Dad's eyes needed prying open, too. Except we couldn't actually get them to open until closer to 6:30.

We had a full day. Starting at 8, we went for groceries, perused the Catherdral Village Arts Festival, you and Dad had a nap, and we went to the circus. We usually don't pack so much activity into one day. Here are some pictures from the circus. You were more into the pumping music than the action going on inside the ring. Your dad thinks you dance better than he and I combined - and he's right. You were grooving.

Friday, May 25, 2007

A pleasant day with a pleasant girl

Today was such a contrast to the past few nights. Today we all woke up at 7:00 instead of 6. You had a little bit of Cheerios and a little bit of Rice Krispies. You put your diaper and clothes on without the least bit of resistance. Your dad and I rushed to get ready so that we could make it to your immunization appointment for 8:10. The actual needles caused you very little grief. Well, at the time and for a couple seconds after you screamed like...well, I'll mention what you screamed like in a minute. You were so concerned about getting back to the waiting room and its fabulous toys, you got your band-aids on and quickly dressed without fuss. Toys, you just kept saying. And I must admit, they did have some pretty great toys for you to play with during the 15 minutes we waited for any adverse reactions.

To "treat" you after taking you to get needles in each arm and one of your legs, I took you to Chapters to play with their huge Thomas the Train set; your dad went to work. You'd been talking about choo-choos all morning. There was a weird man and his daughter who joined us at the train set. I'd easily overhead him talking to an employee. "Hi, my name is Blah Blah Blah. I'm a poet who has just published a book. It retails for $16.95..." His daughter was at least three inches shorter than you, my tenth percentile girl, so I assumed she was much younger but once he sat down he was constantly quizzing her. What colour is that? Say chopper. Bring me the blue train. Bring my the orange train. What does the train say? Thanks for the red stop sign. It was really annoying. If we did that to you, you would tune us out and never participate in any conversations with us. Turned out the little girl was a year and a half so you might not be the shortest girl in your class...

Our next stop (after picking up a new Elmo book called Sleep Tight) was to the little garden centre in the Mac's parking lot. You thought it was great running into the covered area and then calling me as though I were lost. Until someone got between you and me and you froze, panicked that you may not be able to get to me without someone picking you up and keeping us separated. (Dad tortures you like that so maybe your fears are vaild...) Once you made it back to safety, clinging to my leg, you actually ended up helping the lady water the flowers because hey, it was wonderful, wonderful water. This gave me time to snag up a some packs of annuals and a couple lovely grasses for our pots.

By the time we got home, you were wiped so you went to bed after the neighbour girl dropped off a dolly stroller and a toy wheelbarrow for you. Just over an hour later you woke up so I went and crawled into your bed with you. You were just dozing back off when I went to move your legs closer. You bolted awake and began whimpering. Owwie, those needle pokes were apparently sore so I gave you Advil and by then there was no chance for going back to sleep. We checked messages and Nigel had called so we called him back and he came over. By the time he arrived we were outside potting flowers. You showed him everything in the yard while I finished up. Well, while I tried finishing up. I think you thought I might ditch you with Uncle Nigel because I ran inside a couple times and became very clingy, needing "Up. Pleassse."

Nigel had gone home so I thought it would be a great opportunity to go for a bike ride. I went to get the bike and trailer out of the garage but it didn't fit through the door. So I tried to open the big garage door but half a palette of bricks were sitting in front of it. A little irritated, we decided to go for a walk. About two blocks away we hit a garage sale with tonnes of brand name girl clothes and some great toys. Of course, I had no money and no way to carry you and a bunch of stuff so we went home to get the stroller. You haven't been in the stroller for ages. The last few times we tried to put you in there you screamed and convulsed until we granted your command to be free. I feared trying it at first but remembered I've wised up a lot since last year - I decided that I am not above bribing my child with candy! I gave you a sucker, put on your bib, got some wipes in a little sandwich bag and we were on our way. We got some great deals. All the clothes were a dollar, including three fleece Gap sleepers in awesome shape. The highlight for you was probably a little battery-powered choo-choo that we got in a bag with a track, another car and two more little toys for a buck.

We didn't get home until after 4:30 so you ate supper and Dad came home - to no supper and no prospects of supper. So we went to Dairy Queen. You nibbled a hot dog and fries, gulped your milk and ate most of the ice cream on your cone. And you were fairly well behaved, staying between your dad and I until you couldn't stand it anymore so you then stood a foot from our table on the floor dancing and singing and being impressed with all the people. At one point, you were reaching way up to put your fry on the top of the booth so I asked how big you were. You said, "Two," and the woman at the next table commented how big you were. Little fibber. But I guess you only know to say one when you want "just one" and you hold up one finger.

After picking up some movies, we went home. Dad mowed the lawn - finally - and I bathed you. You washed all your body parts, your eyes, cheeks, chin, nose, neck, ears, arms, elbows, wrists, hands, chest, tummy, legs, knees, ankles, feet, and toes. You played a bit longer, then got out, put on your jammies and diaper again without a fight. I said we'd read just one book - your new Sleep Tight one - and after that, you were out within a few minutes. It was a really pleasant day. Really pleasant. You have never been so consistently calm and cooperative. I wish I knew what was so special so I could duplicate it!

I really appreciate calm after the past few nights scream festival we've been having. You've been waking up early and often and screaming from your gut in between smashing your head into the wall, the bedrail, your dad's head. You began sleeping in a big girl bed about two weeks ago. I bought you some flashy Elmo sheets and a Dora pillowcase. The transition from our room in our bed to your room in your bed was rather seamless. You've been coming into our room at either 1:30 or 4:20, your normal wake-up times for the last 21 months and that's fine. But for three days in a row, you'd throw a fit for almost an hour between four and five and drive everyone nuts. There was no consoling you. You were livid. Violent. Dad would try and pick you up to comfort you so you'd go wild, screaming "MAMA" and reaching out for me. When he'd let you go, you would cuddle up to me for a couple minutes, catching your breath from crying before starting all over again. Needless to say, today was a really nice change of pace.

Sunday, May 20, 2007

Alone time

I have been a total slacker at posting both photos (of you) and stories. And throughout the summer it's not going to get better. Our brand new, beautiful, giant patio got finished last Tuesday after a rain/flooding delay. Now that that's done, we can actually do other things like plant shrubs and perennials and put out our solar lights and replace the holey carpet on the back steps. Oh, we should finally paint the back of the house...three years later. And so that you are not so bored, you recently got a basketball net to shoot hoops. Well, maybe just put the ball into the basket and then clap with pride. We did buy a play structure kit; we just need some time to put it together. Hopefully by the end of June...? Then a gate so you can't escape. It never ends, you know.

It was Nana's birthday on Friday. We are having a barbeque party at her house tonight so last night you, me and dad made a wonderfully rich chocolate cake. You love cooking, but with baking you can taste more and cake batter tasting is probably the best. By the end of your stirring (mostly to get more batter onto your spoon and into your mouth), you were covered. You picked up a box for recycling off the floor, placed an errant chocolate chip into it, said bye-bye and went downstairs. Okay, that's fine. You turned on the t.v. and the lamps and continued to amuse yourself for the next 15 minutes. Every few minutes I would see you pushing Pooh Bear in your shopping cart and call down and ask how you were. Good, you'd reply. Then - big mistake, I went to see you and clean some of the cake batter off of you. Apparently you didn't want any of it and a tantrum ensued. So I left. And you were happy again. About ten minutes later, your dad and I came down after cleaning the kitchen and having a drink without baby backwash. You were happy to see us. So that we could get you candy. And help you climb on tall things. We watched Shrek 2 and you loved Puss in Boots. You just needed to spend a little time away from us. (I know the feeling...)

It's the long weekend. Actually longer for your dad. He was home Friday and won't go back to work until Wednesday. Come to think of it, he got sick and was home last Monday, Tuesday and half of Wednesday. Maybe it's him you're tired of...

Saturday, May 12, 2007


I have always wanted a baby who would like me the best. By a long shot. Way more than everyone else. It happened and it's pretty terrific. And tiring because child, you really like me. When your dad chases you, you scream "Mama, Mama!" and run towards me and latch onto my leg for dear life. When I take more than three steps away from you, you call my name in a panicky voice. You call for me when I'm in the shower, when I go to the bathroom, when I'm trying to sneak out the door to go to work. When you see a mommy kitty (or a female pair of hands or a face in a magazine), you point at it, then lovingly say "Mama," and pat me gently on the chest. When I was carrying you back to the van from the far end of the mall yesterday, I gave you a squeeze and told you how sweet you were so you leaned in and kissed me on the lips.

I am so lucky to be your mama.

Tuesday, May 08, 2007

Mean streak

We have been busy. It's just too nice outside to stay home and update this site. Not that there isn't anything to say. Most notably, you've got a mean streak. While playing "kitty" you've taken to scratching like a kitty. Our faces. And neck. Nana has a huge gash on her neck from your fingernails that you won't let me cut. Meowch! But you are your most vicious when you have to come in the house from outside - or come home from the park. If only we could live out there, huh?

And you talk. And talk and talk. I take it. I go. I slide. Please, please, please. Sit. Book. Elmo. Cookie. Ernie. Big Bird. Ice. Please. I run. Hi, Skye (Sigh). Cah cah (candy). I climb. Park. Wah wah (water). Mo.

And you water the trees and set the table so you are very helpful. When you want to be.

And you have lots of hair.

And you have a great smile.