Ugh. Parenting sucks.

We are currently in parenting hell.

Ava bit Rob at bedtime. Biting is an immediately punishable offense, but that punishment is mitigated instantly by the word "Sorry". Punishment consists of Time Out, and a stern description of why Time Out is necessary.

All she needed to do was say "Sorry". We explained it more than once. We said "When you bite, it hurts, and saying 'sorry' makes it better" but she would not say it. We asked if she understood and she said "OK" which is the same as "yes". We sang the "Don't! Don't! Don't Bite Your Friends!" song from Yo Gabba Gabba. We said "If you don't say 'sorry' then it's bedtime right now, and Daddy won't rock you in the chair" and she got upset and said No! and held on tighter, but she needs to say she's sorry.

She needs to learn this lesson. Right? Sigh.

She cried that awful screeching angry cry that you only hear in times of extreme injustice. She cried for me, which kills me. Ooof. We went back in, picked her up, and explained it again. She knows that if she says "Sorry" then she'll get to cuddle in the rocking chair with me or Rob. But she will not say it.

She's awake and she's talking to Elmo and Monkey and Bear and Other Bear, and if we hear her tell them she's sorry, that may be good enough. That will give us something to work with. Man, this sucks.

We're going to order her some birthday gifts that are laden with guilt, because while we know it's our job to teach her that saying "Sorry" is important, we're hanging by a thread. Elton John was right--Sorry seems to be the hardest word. We're sorry too, little Boopy, but you just don't bite anyone. Ever.

"Close your eyes, mama!"

Ava has this funny new game, in which she demands that her opponent close his/her eyes. She then waits a beat to make sure the eyes are closed ("CLOSE EYES MAMA CLOSE EYES") and then she gets right up close and blows a raspberry, and then she laughs maniacally.

It's a very accurate representation of what life with Ava is like lately. The stuff she comes up with just astonishes us. I don't even know how many words she knows at this point. She speaks in sentences and describes where she is, what she's doing, what she wants to do, and what she thinks everybody else needs to do as well. Her daily reports from daycare have become so diplomatic: "Today, Ava put everybody down for naps over and over again. She had so much fun! Most of the other kids did too... for a while..." Yikes. I think this is a nice way of telling me that my kid managed to convince a dozen other two-year-olds that it's just easier if they do what she says.

Christmas was a Very Big Deal at our house this year. Last year, we just sort of posed her like a doll in front of decorations. This year, she KNEW. She knew Santa Claus was coming, although I don't think she knew what that meant until Christmas morning when saw the presents in the living room. She learned some Christmas songs--there's this great version of Jingle Bells by Frank Sinatra that she wanted to hear over and over until I just COULD NOT BEAR ANOTHER MOMENT OF IT. But I'd play it because she'd sing along. Best Christmas ever. EVER.

Next up is her birthday. She's going to be TWO YEARS OLD in two weeks. I just can't believe it. We have a two-year-old. I remember thinking how hard it was those first weeks, when she was so small. We had no idea what we were doing. We still don't, but we're better at getting help when we needed it. I recently asked my Posse of Ninja Moms about how to implement Time Outs. Yeah, that's where we are. Discipline is now the order of the day. Ava gets frustrated and angry (GOSH I DON'T KNOW WHERE SHE GETS THAT SHUT UP) and she will hit whoever or whatever is closest. Usually, it's me. She's got a pretty good arm, but we want to help her learn to use her powers for good and not evil, so we had to step up and be parents and now, she's starting to realize that if she hits anyone she's in Time Out, no matter where we are. If she's not listening, or sassing (seriously, a 2-year-old, sassing? YES.) then she gets a 3-count, and then she's in Time Out. I mocked the idea of Time Out, because it just seems so pointless and passive. But it works. We've been doing it for maybe 2 weeks, and damn you SuperNanny, you know what you're doing. It may not work forever, but it works for now and we'll take it.

I'm home this week, and Ava was at daycare Monday and yesterday so I could take care of some bidness and run some errands, but she's home with me today and tomorrow, and I love it. I love taking her places because she's so damn cute and people just smile when they see her. She's so much fun, 99% of the time. The remaining 1% is, well, I guess, that's parenting.

Nom Nom Nom

Dear Auntie Beth,



xoxo,

Ava

The Rainbow Connection

When Ava was Very Very Small, we discovered that she liked it when we sang songs while rocking her to sleep. So we began to expand our repertoire of Songs that Can Be Lullabies. Really, slow any song down, and it can lull a baby to sleep.

We kept coming back to one song. I didn't even know that I knew this one all the way through, but evidently when it's 2AM and you're grasping at lullaby straws, you find treasures at the bottom of the barrel. Ava's go-to lullaby is The Rainbow Connection. I've sung it (...doing quick math... 22 months times 4 weeks per month times 7 nights per week... equals....) one billion times now.

A couple of months ago, she starting humming along. She recognized it when it came on in the car (it's on my iPod because it's awesome; see also "Bein' Green" and "C is for Cookie"). This morning, after we hit the Maximum Number of TV Shows For a Toddler (two in a row...) I turned on music so she could dance. The first song on the Pandora station? The Rainbow Connection.





I KNOW.

She's learning songs at school, and she really does love to sing. She knows Baa Baa Black Sheep, Twinkle Twinkle Little Star, ABCs (my whole life, it didn't occur to me that these were the same melody, thank you Mozart.), Itsy Bitsy Spider, and so many more that surprise us (um, Paparazzi by Lady Gaga? Boogie Shoes? Check.).

This week we had our first Official Parent Conference. Holy Nervousness, Batman. I mean, I know she's brilliant, but do others realize it? Yes, apparently they do:

"Ava has a growing sense of independence. She is always trying something new and is very, very smart. Ava is quick to figure things out for herself. Ava has a very close relationship with Ms A and Ms A, but gets along well with the other teachers she knows. Ava is a very popular child, smart and talking, with all her peers. She is very well liked."

There are a couple of euphemisms in there, I know. "Quick to figure things out for herself" has been previously discussed here. "Gets along well with the teachers she knows" may be interpreted as "utterly disregards those teachers she does not know". And don't even get me started on "very very smart". Two words, my friends: Criminal Mastermind.

They also sent us home with a binder full of the milestones she hits, according to their curriculum blah blah blah. So all that time I spent guilting about how I stopped doing the baby book in February 09? Wasted time, that. They did it for me. Awesome.

Fashionista

There are some battles that I just don't have time for.

Today, Ava is wearing red socks with pink crocs, and the red socks SHOW. Whether it matches the rest of her outfit (it totally doesn't) just doesn't matter. Ava and I have come to an agreement on the process of getting dressed in the morning. I lay out her clothing options the night before--two pairs of pants, two tops. That is all. If we open the drawer in the morning when time is short, then we run the risk of, um, disagreeing about what actually gets worn.

Case in point: The Butterfly Shirt. If Ava sees the yellow shirt with the butterfly on it, then THAT IS WHAT SHE SHALL WEAR AND THERE IS NO FURTHER DISCUSSION. She will not wear a jacket over the butterfly shirt, making it no longer an option now that it's chilly outside. The butterfly shirt lives at the bottom of the drawer until spring (as butterflies should, I would think).

So we can negotiate tops and bottoms. That's cool. I can handle that. But the lady has very strong feelings about her footwear. She won't negotiate. She has lots of shoes, too (don't judge me...) so there's really no way to predict what will be acceptable. The shoes are in a bin in the closet, making them very easy to put away at the end of the day, but also making them very accessible in the mornings. And the socks are right there in the side pocket of the hanging thing (just go with me on this one) so I can grab a pair quickly.

This morning, we successfully got everyone dressed with very little discussion. This is a victory, because I really haven't mastered the necessary technique for wrestling an angry wombat into a pair of little jeans. I pulled out her very cool Snoopy New Balance Sneakers and she lost her freaking mind. "NOOOOOOOOOOOOO" *stomp stomp stomp stomp stomp stomp stomp throw self down on floor* (seriously, I'm going to video the next time she does this and submit it to the Academy for their consideration in the Best Performance By a Toddler Who Does Not Want To Wear The Snoopy Shoes category).

So I pause, and envision where this fits in the Grand Scheme of Things.

"OK. Come pick your shoes and socks." And it's like I'm her Fairy Godmother and I just bibbidy-bobbidy-boo'd her a fancy pumpkin coach. She wipes her hair out of her eyes, takes a moment to compose herself, and with much gusto and aplomb, announces her selections as she makes them. "PINK SHOES YAY! WED TOCKS! YAY!"

Yay, indeed.

Attention! All Personnel! Incoming Helicopters!

Ava scares the hell out of me sometimes. She's just fearless and she barrels through her day without a care in the world while we guide her away from anything pointy or strangly or jagged-cliffy. We talk about how we walk the fine line between wanting to keep her safe from harm forever and realizing that if she doesn't roll off the couch she won't learn how not to roll off the couch.

Today, we were at the Very Awesome Park by our house. They have this amazing structure that has slides and ramps and rings and steps and places to jump and places where you can pretend you're a pirate (Arrrr.). It's plastic. It's a big red plastic Fun But Safe Place, that is securely anchored to this squishy rubber surface that would almost be fun to land on after falling from somewhere high up. As Rob and I were herding our little daredevil around the section that she's most likely to be able to navigate, I looked around at the other parents who were doing the same thing. Most of their kids were older than Ava (who is 21 months on Tuesday, OMG she's so big), but there they were, huffing and puffing through this extremely cushy playground. And I realized that I was perilously close to becoming a Helicopter Parent. NOOOOOOOOOOO!

Remember when we were kids? Remember the parks of the 1970s (I'm sofa king old...)? Lorenzi Park was so cool when I was a kid. We used to love to go there. And every single thing in that park was made of rebar and chains and hard plastic, and you know what you landed on when you jumped off the really high super awesome swing after you'd been going back and forth and back and forth and kicking furiously and you could just not go any higher and so you jumped off like it was an Olympic sport? You landed on gravel. Unless it was the end of the weekend and every other kid in Vegas had already done what you were just now getting to and all of the gravel was ground to dust from all of the landings, and sometimes you landed on dirt, and sometimes you landed on caliche and that's when you were done swinging for the day and you went home and bathed in Bactine.

So today at this modern newfangled fancy schmancy park, we circled around our kids like they were little teacups running around on tightropes stretched over canyons of broken glass. And all I could think of was that my kid will never learn how to do a death drop (yeah, you know what I'm talking about...) and that makes me sad. And relieved. But mostly sad.

Commentary at Yesterday's Daycare Pick-Up

Steve the Director: Hi, Kristie! Hey, we're really starting to notice that Ava has some really strong leadership tendencies emerging!

Me (in my head): Uh-oh...
Me (out loud): HAHAHAHAHAHA is that what you call it?

Steve the Director (in his head) (probably): WONDER WHERE SHE GETS IT, LADY.
Steve the Director (out loud): HAHAHAHAHAHA that IS what we call it! Today, before playtime, she made sure everybody had their shoes on and then she walked at the head of the line because she knew where they were going!

Me (in my head): Oh those poor kids...
Me (out loud): Well we're going to have to "cultivate" that in a "positive manner" now aren't we? HAHAHAHAHAHAHA.

Steve the Director (in his head): OMG lady kids like yours either go on to invent Google or they become criminal masterminds with legions of minions at their command.
Steve the Director (out loud): We call that "channeling"! And yes, we will have to be sure to help her develop that skill!

I love Steve the Director. Really, he's awesome. He quacked a toy duck in Ava's face when she was about 5 months old, and she seriously did not even acknowledge him for a year after that. He has busted himself trying to get her to forgive him. She's just now getting back to where he exists in her world. Daycare providers do the work of the lord, that's for sure.

So, what happens when Ava skips a nap?

I'm flying solo this weekend. Rob's at his annual fantasy football draft/golf/manapalooza in San Diego, so I very purposefully sought out Meaningful Activities that are Fraught with Redeeming Social Value. Quite frankly, the idea of waking up to a completely unscheduled blank slate of a day with Ava scared the hell out of me. So we went here as I had it on good authority that it would be a great way to spend an hour or two.

It was awesome. SO perfect. Seriously, Ava scampered around the place like it was where she had spent the last twenty months waiting for us to take her there. They have a stage with a whole wall full of dress-up clothes. They have bubble tables and mazes big enough to walk through, and a mock classroom and grocery store and so many wonderful things for her to explore. Yeah, it's located at the corner of Crack and Ho, but I suppose that's part of the whole experience.

So we got there at 10, right when they opened, so it wasn't crowded. We stayed for an hour and 15 minutes, and that put us home right on track for lunch and nap. She ate a gigungous lunch, yawning and rubbing her eyes the whole time, and I figured that one hour of scampering and frolicking would lead to three hours of hardcore napping.

WRONG. WRONG. WRONG. WRONG. WRONG. WRONG.

For nearly an hour, she just chilled in her crib, talking to Elmo and Monkey and Bear and Other Bear, and then she was ready to not be in her crib. She fussed with increasing intensity, and I knew that the three hour nap was not in the cards. When I gave up and went in to assess, she was standing in the middle of her crib like Hannibal Lecter when Clarice first meets him. No sign of any distress or displeasure. Just. Standing. There.

OK fine, little girly-girl. No nap today. Let's go run some errands, as maybe a ride in the car will lull you to sleep.

Nope, nope nope nope. She chattered gaily to the guy at the cleaners and was the life of the party at Target. We got back to the house at 4:30, and that's when she started to get twitchy. Any kid of mine is going to have a short fuse, but man, today from about 5:00 on, she was a freaking land mine. Her eyes were so sleepy. She had big awful dark circles (yeah, she gets that from me, too...).

At 6:00, she went feral. She was so tired, she couldn't even walk straight, but when she'd fall over it made her giggle, so she'd do it on purpose (I'm debating whether to google that behavior to see if it's normal, but I'm afraid of what I might find).

Since I'm evidently new to this "mom" thing, I thought maybe a bath would help her relax. Oh dear God. I once tried to wash our cat when I was little. Jughead was angry on a good day, and evidently being bathed was a direct indictment of her self-cleaning abilities. Today, Jughead looked up from Cat Hell with one smug green eye, and mrowred with victorious condescension as she bowed to the new Empress of DON'T PUT ME IN THE GODDAMN BATHTUB.

At 6:45, dried, pajama'd and cuddled, Ava put herself to bed, an hour and fifteen minutes early. I truly believe that she figured she had put me through quite enough.

Testing The Fences

" That one... when she looks at you, you can tell she's working things out."
--Robert Muldoon in Jurassic Park, describing the alpha Raptor.

Ava is truly the light of my life. I don't even remember how we occupied ourselves before we had her to entertain us. Some nights, we just turn the TV off and watch her amuse herself. She's a riot. She's always buzzing from one corner of the room to another, chattering to whatever she may be holding, the pat-pat-pat of her little feet going back and forth across the tile. Sometimes, she just stops mid-stride, changes direction, and runs toward us with arms open for a great big hug. She is always on the verge of giggling, always wanting to see one more thing and tell one more story before the day has to end.

We spend a lot of time and effort figuring out how to show Ava more of the world. A couple of Sunday mornings ago, we went to a Very Cool Nursery that is like visiting a jungle right in the middle of town. There are macaws and huge tortoises and bunnies and an incredible koi pond. She loved it. This past weekend we went to Tule Springs, which any longtime Las Vegan will know is an amazing oasis with lakes and birds and all sorts of nature. She loved it. And so now we're working on where we're going to take her next. The weather's cooling off a little, so it will be easier to do outside stuff, and she's old enough now (almost 20 months OMG) to really be interested in new places.

Seriously, I love this kid so much I don't even have words. People ask me how my weekend was, and I tell them what Ava did (like when I sneezed and she looked at me and said "Bess oo mama" and my heart just MELTED). All plans are made around naptime, mealtime, and bedtime, and we've become Those People Who Leave Early or Cancel Outright because Something is Up with the Kid. I get it now. I totally understand how a narcissistic (look it up--December is my birthday and Narcissus is my flower) lollygagger like me can suddenly become a total pushover for someone who is only just starting to use her words.

And she knows she's got us. She KNOWS that she's not supposed to stand up on the couch, and she'll do it anyway, and not only will she stand up, but she'll freaking DANCE on the couch while singing "la la la la la ashes ashes all fall down" with a big Aren't-I-So-Damn-Cute? smile on her face. Right now, she's in her crib, 45 minutes after "bedtime". Bathtime was 7:30, and then after she's in jammies, one of us will sit in the rocker in her room with her firmly ensconced in a lap, and we're holding Monkey, Elmo, Bear, Other Bear, and Blanket, and sometimes there's a song or two, and then it's Bedtime. Except for the last couple of nights, she's wanted to put everyone in the crib and then pull them back out and go sit back in the chair and then put them all back in the crib and then pull them back out and go sit in the chair ad infinitum. So we said "no, baby, it's time for bed" and then the howling commenced until she realized that we weren't going to play and the indignation about being imprisoned in her crib turned to anger at being ignored and this horrible banging sound happened, which turned out to be Elmo's plastic eyes hitting the rails of the crib.

Damn, she's so funny.

A Very Important Day.

Today, Ava went peepee in the potty. In recognition of this auspicious occasion, we present a (completely unrelated) video, in which Ava wants to put on her Boogie Shoes.



Little girl likes her disco.

Where our responsibility lies

So last Sunday, my heart broke.

Pebbles was the sweetest dog in the world. She was perfect. She went outside when she needed to. She slept on the floor next to our bed. She was as contented as we were, but for one extremely significant exception: Pebbles did not like Ava.

On Saturday, they just kind of avoided each other. We chalked it up to new environment, unfamiliar surroundings, everybody getting used to everybody else, and so on. Sunday, Ava wanted to pet Pebbles, and Pebbles didn't like it. Pebbles bristled her fur, and curled up her lips into a scary snarl, and she growled a low warning. Her tail got still. We got Ava away as quickly as we could, and then we noticed that Pebbles was shaking. She was looking at us as if she knew what she had done was not OK, but she couldn't help it.

We can't help it either. We are responsible dog owners, sure, but we're responsible parents first. Some may say that we were foolish to bring a Rottweiler into a house with a child, as everybody knows that Rottweilers are aggressive and frequently vicious. I don't really buy into that--every dog has its stars and scapegoats. I've known sweeties of all breeds, and I'm not about to condemn a breed with a broad brush.

But this is my kid. I would reach into a bowl of spiders (shudder/cringe/gag) for Ava. And because of that, we could not keep Pebbles. The ladies at the Humane Society assured us that they understood, and that there was no judgment for our decision. Rob made it clear that the only issue was the one that was our dealbreaker, and now they will be able to give her to a family who is better suited for a lovely old girl like her. She's going to make someone a great pet and companion, I know. She's such a sweet girl, and she was so well taken care of, that I have faith that there is a happy ending in her future.

But my heart still broke.

Insanity Ensues

So, it's become apparent that we are nuts (it's also nuts that we are parents, but that's another posting...).

It began just like any other Saturday. Breakfast in jammies, assessment of the day to come, and so on. We'll be needing to wash the Honda; that can be our pre-nap outing. While we're out, Rob said, "why don't we go to Petco so Ava can visit the kitties and the fish?" They evidently did this last weekend while I was swilling martinis in San Francisco with the girls, and it was a big hit. All right then.

Petco has adoption events on Saturdays. Just FYI.

So we look at the kittens, and Ava gets all squealy because she loves kittens. And then we look at the fishies, and Ava gets all squealy because she loves fishies. And then we go over to look at the parakeets and cockawhatevertheyares, and Ava gets all squealy etc. etc. etc.

And then I go into the dog grooming area where the Humane Society has two pens set up, one with big dogs and one with small dogs. I don't look at the small dogs (really, why would I?). But I walk over to the big dogs, and I start reading the flyers they have posted on the gate. There's a bassett/beagle mix, which doesn't tempt me because that equals "howls and digs". And there's a shepherd mix, who is cute, but.... eh.

And then there's this other dog hanging back a bit. She's got a friendly face and a wagging tail. And she looks at me.

And I'm a sucker. And I'm in tears. Because I'm a sucker.

I read her story. "Pebbles is an 8-year-old Rottweiler. She is housetrained, and prefers to be inside. She sleeps on the floor next to the bed. She is good with other dogs, cats, and kids. " And I'm a mess. So I wander over to Rob and Ava (over by the fishies...) and Rob sees me and he KNOWS that Something has Happened.

"There's this dog...," I say. "And she looks so sweet. Go see her."

So now we have a dog. Pebbles, the 8-year-old Rottweiler, to be specific.


She's very happy to be with us. She has had a bath and brushing, and lots of water. And some worming tablets (there was some scooting). She's very calm. She's getting used to being here. She was surrendered by her previous family just a week ago--it's likely that they are one of the thousands in town who have lost their home to foreclosure and were forced to give her up when they moved into an apartment or other non-dog-friendly sort of place. She seems like a very good girl.

Ava loves her. Oh, Ava loves doggies so much, and now we have one in our home. I don't think she remembers much about Gracie (oh, poor Gracie...), but whenever she sees a dog, she wants to pet it and touch it and love it. So she's figuring out how to handle having a big (and rather fat) dog to pet and love at her whim. There have been a couple of wrinkly lip almost-but-not-quite-snarls that were the result of Too Much Love and Not Enough Personal Space. We're keeping a very VERY close eye on Pebbles and Ava both. Without being too Dog Whispery, we are already an established pack, and it's important that Pebbles understand her place in it. We think she will.

She's got some habits that we can already tell we're going to have to help her break. She's used to people food, we think, as she was very.very.very.very. interested in everything we've eaten and she hasn't touched her kibble. That explains the 20 extra pounds she's carrying. She's definitely housetrained, and she even knows to go to the door when It's Time To Go Outside. She knows her name, and that's kind of a bummer, because we're not really the sort of people who would name a dog "Pebbles" but whatever. She can be Pebbles if she wants to. She'll lay down and come when we tell her to. That's really all we need.

Right now, she's asleep in the middle of the living room, and she's very snorty about it. The absolute comfort that can be identified from the snore of a happy dog is something that is wonderful to behold. And really, I hated not having a dog. It's only been 6 months since we lost Gracie, and it's been so quiet (and clean, but mostly quiet) without a dog at all. I feel like we did a really good thing today. We'll give her a good home, and in return, she'll be a good dog.

Um, yeah. Busy.

You'll be delighted to learn that we are still alive. SHEESH.

In the past month, Ava's picked up probably 30 words, and many of them are neither profane nor part of a demand (sometimes "Sit!" comes out "Shit!" and we're pretty sure she's saying "Sit!" but it could really go either way). At the end of each day we are exhausted and astonished by how much Ava there is going on at any given moment.

Our strategies as parents have changed. No more do we ask "Do you want to go to bed/take a bath/eat your dinner?" because 99% of the time the answer is No!. The other 1% of the time is a big Yes! and we'd better make damn sure the bed has a sheet on it/the bathtub is full and bubbly/food is on the tray and has cooled enough to eat or there is hell to pay. So instead of asking, we preface every.single.sentence with "It's time to..." and that seems to work. For now, at least. I'm quite confident that it won't last forever.

She has such breathtaking tantrums. The first real doozy was probably a month ago, and I was just stunned. She just flipped her gourd for no. good. reason. and I watched it like it was in slow motion. Rob comes in and he's like "What the hell?!" and I'm all "No idea..." and after about five minutes she was done and it was over and she was OK like nothing had even happened. So now when it happens, we make sure that injury is unlikely ("Clear the perimeter!") and we let her just work it out. If we're at a restaurant, then it's "Check!" and we get the hell outta there. We go about our business, have a conversation, and once she sees that we're not buying into it, she stops. She just freaking stops like "Oh, OK then, can I have some juice?" and we're all "yeah whatever here you go" and we're fine. We pick our battles so very carefully... We've learned that the morning and evening routines are critically important and there are no variables--we go to parties and we're the first to arrive and first to leave, and that's fine because by the time we leave we're so tired from chasing her that really, it's OK, we'll catch you next time. But stuff during the day is kind of flexible. Nap should start by 12:30, but sooner is fine. Meals are kind of arbitrary--she eats either NOTHING or EVERYTHING and there's no way to know in advance which it will be. All those people who say "Just be consistent!" and are all chipper because they know it all? Yeah I want them to come over and spend 24 hours in our house being consistent and let's just see how well that goes.

The Daycare Ladies give us a daily report at the end of each day--just a summary of how she ate, when she napped, the particular intricacies of her #s 1 and 2, and then they write a little blurb about any noteworthy happenings or behaviors. In the last month, the blurb has gotten interesting:

• "Ava exhibited a lessened tolerance for her peers today". (I'm not sure what this means, exactly, but I didn't have to sign anything so she didn't bite or hit anyone.)
• "Before naptime, Ava searched through everybody's cubbies looking for binkies and blankets, which she gave to all of the baby dolls as she tucked them all in."
  
• "Ava loves to paint!" (I read that, and then I looked up and she's covered head to toe in all the colors of the rainbow, happy as can be)

And so on.

She's 18-1/2 months old now. We had her last Well Baby check last week. That was a big one for me--it's like she's officially Not A Baby anymore. Ooof. And she's so not a baby anymore--no more binkies, eating food with a spoon at mealtimes, very specific likes and dislikes. She loves Mickey Mouse and Elmo with a love that is pure and true. Those marketing gurus at Disney and Sesame Street know what they're doing. And yeah, we're suckers, because she now has a stuffed (non-speaking) Elmo doll.

Next weekend, I'm going out of town with some girlfriends, and I. Can't. Wait. I haven't spent a night away from Ava EVER. I'm all cool and offhand about it on the surface ("Eh, she'll be fine!") but it's going to be very weird to be away. We'll drop her off at daycare on Thursday and then I won't see her again until Sunday night. Whoa. That's a lot. And I know she will be fine--Rob is amazing with her and she's totally a Daddy's girl. They'll have lots of fun and she'll be able to run around all weekend looking like a hobo (honestly, I don't know how he concocts such awful clothing combinations from such cute clothes...).

So that's where we are. There's not a lot of glamour happening. We have a School Friend birthday party this weekend--Ava's friend "Lexi" is turning 2. I don't know which one she is, but the invitation has Tinker Bell on it so I'm going to do my best to put something awesome (and sparkly? sparkly seems like a good way to go...) together.

Wordplay

We are now, officially, very very very very very careful about what we say in Ava's presence. Our little parrot is quite possibly the Smartest Child Ever, and she is developing quite the vocabulary. She understands a lot of what we say, and if she hears a word she recognizes (like, oh, I don't know, BINKY...) then she will repeat it and demand that whatever that word represents be handed to her immediately.

Right.

So here's what she says, unprompted:

• Go go go
• Binky (actually this one is often BINKYBINKYBINKYBINKYYYYYYYYYYYYY)
• Snack
• Sink? (when she's done with her snack and it's time to put her cup and bowl on the counter)
• Shoooooooooooes
• Socks
• Jacket
• Jesus Christ! (evidently she has found religion; the fact that she says this has NOTHING AT ALL TO DO WHATSOEVER with the fact that she rides in the car with me for 90 minutes a day)
• Elmo (ugh)
• Abby (as in Cadabby, which is OK)
• Minnie (as in Mouse, which is starting to bug)
• Oh NOOOO! (complete with Munch-like hands-to-face gesture)
• What's this?
• Milk
• Cow/Moooooooooo (these are evidently interchangeable)
  

There's more, but you get the idea. Except for the Son of God (don't judge me...) most of it involves food, fashion and accessories, or what's on television.

That's my girl :)

Le spectre des émotions Ava.

Film noir, anyone? Amusez-vous!

Six Flags Over Vegas

So, recently, Rob and I were pondering how best to utilize our rather impressive, if small, back yard now that we have a child. Back yards exist for two reasons: Dogs and kids. Sadly, we said good-bye to Gracie this past winter. She was old and it was time and we miss her terribly.

However, now we have a back yard that is entirely without doggie bombs. Whatever shall we do with that awesome space? Why, I think we'll establish ourselves as.... THE COOLEST PARENTS IN THE WORLD.

Behold:



Yeah. That's what I'm talking about. Our kid has her very own roller coaster.

We have big plans for converting it into a water park during the upcoming Hotter-Than-The-Surface-Of-The-Sun months. This, combined with her Sand and Water Table...


...make her the envy of the neighborhood, and doubtless the hottest playdate location in town.

Spoiled? Nah.

Four years ago...

... we threw a party. We invited 150 of our closest friends and family, and it was the most wonderful day that we could have imagined.

There was cake...

That's three tiers of buttercream-frosted strawberry cheesecake, people. We don't mess around when it comes to cake.

There were moments when we stopped what we were doing so that we could smile at the camera...
..and moments where nothing else mattered. Not even the cake.

There were so many moments when everybody just laughed.


May 20, 2006, was a day that was so perfect, that it just didn't seem real.


I didn't realize that it would only get better.

For the record:

Our little parrot's first curse word has happened. The lesson we take from this day is that we do not say out loud what it is we find in a diaper.

Duly noted.

PS, it was Rob.

The Lady Does Not Wish To Be Bothered.

Today at daycare, Ava bit another child.

OMG.

The backstory is funny, though. The Assistant Director and her teacher both could barely contain their laughter when they told me. She was provoked, make no mistake.

The alleged victim, whose name has been withheld from me, as Ava's name has been withheld from the alleged victim's parents, allegedly was being kind of clingy (already, at this point in the story, my suspicions about who the alleged victim allegedly is are in place). Said alleged victim was allegedly all up in Ava's business, allegedly hanging on to her shirt, allegedly touching her face (really, who doesn't hate that?), allegedly ignoring the pleas, nay, insistent demands, of the suspect to BACK THE HELL OFF. The suspect made no secret of her displeasure at being jostled in such a manner. She allegedly hollered. She allegedly stomped her feet. She allegedly made it ABUNDANTLY CLEAR THAT SHE WAS NOT AMUSED BY ANY OF THESE TOUCHY-FEELY SHENANIGANS.

And yet, the alleged victim persisted.

Ava allegedly bit the alleged victim on the alleged pinky finger. No skin was broken. The whole alleged incident allegedly lasted not even a minute.

As the alleged victim was extricated from the suspect, the suspect's only reaction was indignation. It was obvious, apparently, that she didn't WANT to bite the alleged victim. She TRIED to warn the victim. As the victim's injured pinky was treated with an icy boo-boo buddy, the suspect looked with bewilderment at the adult witnesses in attendance, frustrated by her lack of words.

One can only imagine what those words might have been.

All kidding aside, my immediate concern was "oh dear, my child is now that kid." The AD assured me that in many circumstances, yes, a deliberate chomping would be cause for alarm. But this? The two ladies looked at each other, looked at Ava, and looked at me. They agreed, "well, she DID try to warn her."

This is the first week in which we've gotten two incident reports to sign. The first one was on Monday, where she hit herself in the head as she "was exploring the sensory bottles". In layman's terms, she was playing with a plastic bottle that had been filled with water and sealed, and she bonked herself on the head probably 3 times before she got pissed off at the bottle. Her reaction when they were checking her for injury? Inconvenience. That's what they told me: "Ava just seemed to be inconvenienced by our concern."

Oh goody. Where does a 16-month-old child learn inconvenience and indignation?

Certainly, she didn't get it from me...

Oh, MAN.

Oh, we were smug. Oh how we preened. We never dropped her. She never rolled off the bed, off the couch. She never fell out of the car or off of the changing table. We. Were. Perfect. And so was Ava.

Ava's still perfect, of course. But us? We had it coming, I suppose.

Behold:

Here, we have the edge of the patio.

Looks innocent enough. Right next to the soft, cool, springy grass, where Ava loves to trot around and twirl. And trip. Yeah. Note to us: Ava trips. A LOT. Usually when she trips, she catches herself with her hands, or if she doesn't, she at least lands somewhere soft. Like on the grass. But Friday night, she caught herself with her HEAD right on the corner of the PATIO. And like INSTANTLY, a big ghastly goose egg (ah yes, now I know where that name comes from...) erupted on her creamy little forehead. OMG. Triage consisted of "OH JESUS! INSIDE! RIGHT NOW! WHAT DO WE DO? ICE! COLD! WE NEED COLD! IS SHE BLEEDING? NO? OK GOOD ICE! BINKY! CALM HER DOWN! YOU OK? I'M OK! SHE OK? I THINK SO BUT SHE'S PISSED! CALL THE NURSE'S LINE! HELLO NURSE'S LINE? HERE'S WHAT HAPPENED: NO VOMITING. JUST A SCRAPE. ABOUT AN INCH IN DIAMETER. LEFT TEMPLE. OK OK OK NO PAIN MEDS YET. KEEP AN EYE ON HER FOR 2 HOURS. THEN WAKE HER UP. OK OK OK. OK. WE'LL CALL YOU IF ANYTHING HAPPENS. OK YES WE'RE FINE TOO THANKS."

And we were smug because we survived it. Poor boopy, but we were all OK.

And then, dammit, she freaking did it again this morning.

Here, we have the corner of the activity cube.

Yeah, it's not angled off because it's pretty. Oh no. They cut the corner off of that bad boy because THEY KNEW what was going to happen. And a triangular flat surface, while still no picnic, is much much easier to deal with on impact than a pointy corner. OMG.

So here is her poor little melon.


I KNOW. OMG.

Here's what we have learned.

1. ICE. Do not pass Go; do not collect $200. Get a washcloth, dunk it in cold water, wrap it around an ice cube. That will work.
   
2. She will not like to have anything on her head. Doesn't matter. Do it. She'll get over being mad faster than I'll get over seeing a big awful pulsating goose egg on her little head.
3. She will crap her pants IMMEDIATELY when this happens. Doesn't matter. Keep the ice going. It's why she wears a diaper.
   
4. She's OK, even though it looks awful.
5. Always keep Sesame Street or Curious George on the DVR. At least 1 episode. They calm her down and give her something to focus on that will take her attention off of having something cold on her head.
6. People will look at her head, and the bruises, and then look at me, and then look back at her and then back at me when we go out in public. If they've had a toddler, that look is filled with sympathy, as they probably have their own horror stories to tell. If they haven't had a toddler, that look is filled with judgment and speculation, and they can blow it out their asses.

I think that's it. Yikes. Gravity: not just a good idea, it's the law.

...and a spare moment presents itself

Rob started traveling for his job last week. He'd gone out of town before, just for a day, I think, to Reno. But last week was the first Big Trip, which we'd all said we'd be OK about. And we were OK. But, damn, it's hard to split up like that. We take for granted the rhythm we develop when we know there's someone else helping keep it together every day. Sure, we have the fabled Routines, and the stuff that we know gets done at a certain time each day. But now we're dealing with a full-on hardcore toddler (srsly) and the routine sometimes falls prey to the whims of someone who cannot yet Use Her Words. Ack.

But we (all of us) survived last week. Rob was gone Sunday night through Friday night. God bless Southwest Airlines, which allows for the easy switching of flights, from, say, one from Portland with a layover in Sacramento that ultimately gets delayed to the point where the connection would be a moo point (anyone watch Friends? you know what I'm saying there...) to a nonstop PDX-LAS that leaves in 45 minutes that you can justbarelymake but it's OK because you bought Business Select (best spent twenty bucks in the travel industry).

He's on his way back to Portland tonight (delayed, actually, but it says it's boarding rightthisminute so that's good) and will be back Tuesday. We'll survive.

So to catch up....

Easter looked like this:


...and it was perfect.

Ava had her FIFTEEN MONTH OMG SHE'S FIFTEEN MONTHS checkup on Friday. She's 30-1/4 inches tall, 23.1 pounds. If childhood physical development had a bell curve (which it totally does...) she would be right smackdab in the middle, at the highest point, where Average resides. Awesome.

She knows so many words. Tonight, she helped me pick up her toys before bedtime. She smiles and giggles and waves and dances and oh, oh how she glares at you when she is displeased. Yikes. The condemnation she can conjure up is quite alarming (no idea where she gets that...).

Things are good. We're scrambling to maintain some semblance of sanity, and I think we succeed most of the time.

Go Go Bye

This is one of those times where my failure to adequately maintain a baby book past February 2009 is blatantly obvious, because where else would I possibly document such a milestone? Right.

This morning, Ava made a sentence. And she was very definitive about it. She meant what she said. I knew she meant it, because she was pointing at the time, and pointing means that she is totally serious.

So, we're gathering up to leave this morning. She has had her first breakfast (she's our little Hobbit: First Breakfast, Second Breakfast, Elevensies (snack, for the rest of us), Lunch, Second Snack, First Dinner, and Second Dinner) and she's out of her booster chair. We're both kind roaming around, picking stuff up that we're taking with us. I grab my purse and my go-cup of coffee. She grabs her jacket and her go-cup of water. She looks at me, points (so I know she is serious) and she says, "Go go bye" and then her pointing finger becomes a waving hand.

"Why yes," I say, "We are indeed leaving now. I'm glad you are ready." and we walk together to the car.

Such a big girl.

If Ava had an iPod...

... this would be her playlist.

1. The theme from Elmo's World
2. She's A Rainbow, by the Rolling Stones (Rob's ringtone on my phone)
3. The Darth Vader theme (my dad's ringtone on my phone)
4. The Rainbow Connection (still my default lullaby when bedtime is hard)
5. The theme from Two and a Half Men (♪♫Men men men men manly men men men ooooooooooooooo♪♫
6. Enter Sandman by Metallica (it comes on the radio, I turn it up, we headbang, and it's awesome)
7. Mysterious Ways by U2 (it kind of bounces and she likes music that kind of bounces)
8. Isn't She Lovely by Stevie Wonder (on at least once a day on 105.7, and it's about the moment when Mr. Wonder laid eyes {um... you know what I mean} on his newborn daughter)
9. The theme from Bonanza (ideal for when she's sitting on my knee and bouncing anyway)
10. The Trolley Song from Meet Me In St. Louis, club mix (see above RE: bouncy)
11. My Favorite Things (as long as it's not the version I sing at the top of my lungs when Sound of Music comes on, because she hates my version of it and cries just as loud as I sing)
12. You Are My Sunshine by Ray Charles. Nuff Said.
13. Intergalactic by the Beastie Boys (won't let the beat nnnnnnnnnnnndrop!)

These are the songs that Ava is starting to know. We're in the car together a lot, and since she no longer naps on the ride home, I have 45 minutes (more on a bad traffic day...) twice a day in which to entertain her. And then we get home and watch Sesame Street so there's more music there. Ava loves to dance. When a song that she knows comes on, she'll STOP IN HER TRACKS and look around and then she'll put her arms out and bounce up and down. I'll catch it on video as soon as I can.

Seriously, Two and a Half Men. Best theme song ever.

I can tell you how to get, how to get to Sesame Street.

We are not those parents who boycott television. We're just not. We will never be those parents, either (unless TV programming is completely taken over by the people who brought us Jersey Shore and even then there will be a movie in the Blu-Ray [yes we've gone to Blu-Ray and it is AWESOME] 24/7/365). We like to think that we're selective about what we watch when Ava's in the room (although some movies, like Animal House or Airplane! or Caddyshack seem to be always on somewhere and we inevitably watch them). With Ava, we have re-discovered Discovery, National Geographic, and Animal Planet. She likes watching them, and we like watching her when she watches them. So everybody wins.

Recently we procured a couple of Sesame Street DVDs--the classic stuff, like counting with Herry Monster and JohnJohn and Rubber Duckie and that one episode that was so early on that Oscar the Grouch was orange. Yeah. So Sesame is on every day (yeah, I know, duh). We DVR it (we are SLAVES to the DVR, see above IN RE: 24/7/365) and watch it with Ava every night during and after dinner.

She loves it. I'd forgotten how much fun Sesame Street is. I like that they still show the old stuff (Super Grover KILLS me) and they have new stuff (Abby Cadabby is so cute!) that we like quite a bit. They teach manners. They teach basic skills. They teach that cookies are good but so are vegetables and they have cool celebrity guest stars (Jason Mraz!).

Ava dances during the songs.



Yeah, that's some kind of cute. Oh and Auntie Beth? That's my favorite outfit on her--thanks for sending pretty clothes for our girl :).

Her other new thing is carrying her purse. I got it free from re-subscribing to Vogue (I have big plans for being able to read magazines someday...). It's too small for me but she carries it around like she's Carrie Bradshaw on the red carpet and it's a Birkin bag.


Such a little girlie-girl! Love it :). Someday, she and I will go shopping together and Nordstrom will proclaim a holiday and name it after us. Can't. Wait.

Our cups runneth over.

We're blessed. We know we are. We have jobs (although the terms of mine are currently the subject of discussion at a special session of the legislature), our bills are paid, our house is warm (insulated, I imagine, by the stuff on all of the counters and tables...) and we are healthy (unless you count colds). At the end of each crazy day, Rob and I look at each other and say it out loud, how lucky we are.

Ava is a little girl. Not a baby, not even a little bit, anymore. She knows more words than she says and her personality is really coming through. This morning I went in to wake her up, and she looked at me like "WHA?", handed me her monkey, and pulled the blanket over her head. That's my kid all right ;). We're working with Daycare to transition her to the Toddler Room. She is down to one bottle a day (right before bed) and she's losing interest in that pretty quickly. She can walk all the way from the car to her classroom. In the Toddler Room she will eat her meals at a table, instead of in a high chair. She'll nap on a cot instead of a crib. They have two hours a day of outside play (weather permitting...) which she is going to LOVE.

She's so big. I look at her on the rare occasions that she falls asleep in my arms, and I can only see glimpses of the baby she used to be. She's stretching out, so the rolls of little chub on her legs are going away (booooooo...). She is going to be a handful, I think. Already, she makes it clear when her world isn't what she wishes it to be. She doesn't like too many people, so we're watching her carefully as she moves from the familiar team of Daycare Ladies to a new group. She'll be OK, I know. But we will need to help her learn how to be OK and stay OK.

Right now, I have 3 close friends (you know who you are, ladies) in various stages of pregnancy. It's so cool to be on this side of it, like I'm in on a secret. It's such a big deal. One will have her baby next week (!!!! so excited!!!) and we can't wait to meet him. Seeing my friends go through this after having done it myself makes me realize that no, we're not ready to do it again. I'll say that again in case you missed it: no, we're not ready to do it again. Not yet. It's too big. We're good with where we are right now.

Ch-ch-ch-changes

I like to think that we've gotten pretty good at adapting to new stuff in the last year. There's been no rule book, and since everyone has survived, I'd call it a success. We spend a lot of time talking about how we can do stuff better, how we can help Ava become safer, stronger, happier, quieter (eh, we're realists, but we're hopeful). Work, for both of us, has been pretty static, and while we kind of got bored with the same-old same-old, it was easy to coast through most days after even the roughest nights.

Rob recently scored a promotion, and my job is about to undergo a major upheaval. Our days of phoning it in during business hours are O-V-E-R.

Rob will be traveling for his new gig. There is a training session that will be in any one of a dozen cities, depending on when he goes, and then after that he expects to be out of town 10 days a month or more. Adding that on top of his 2 classes at the university, and Rob's going to be one busy guy. He's gone from low man on the totem pole to "Guy With Company Laptop and Blackberry and Credit Card" with three days' notice, and we're kind of reeling from all of that.

My job hasn't changed in 2 years, and before that it hadn't changed for 4. Now, suddenly, of the 3 systems I use at work, one is being replaced (long overdue--the old one was implemented in 1990 and is written in freaking COBOL, which is the IT equivalent of carving runes in the wall of a cave), the process behind another is being redesigned by the Department of Homeland Security (seriously, and can you imagine my delight at their involvement...) and the third, which links the two others, is going to need some serious upgrades, both to hardware and software. My role in all this? Evidently my boss thinks I'm good at seeing what needs to be the end result and then working backwards to find the process that will be the solution. The cherry on top of the cake that is all of this, is that one more database is being tossed into the mix (just for kicks, I assume, because God is funny like that) and I'm not even sure where that one even is applicable.

All of a sudden, we have no constants. Ava is changing every day. She went from taking 5 hesitant steps from me to Rob on Monday to charging across the living room with a handful of toys and a big hyperventilating smile on her face. Rob's job is going to be full of new stuff every day for months to come. My job? My job description now consists of words like "development" and "implementation processes" and it all sounds like a big load of bureaucratic BS that is going to keep me jumping.

The changes to both of our jobs are good in so many ways. Suddenly we're both in careers with clear trajectories (if we choose) that will lead to even better opportunities. We will have control in what our jobs look like, and how they're done (to an extent). It's exhilarating!

I'm afraid of getting swept away by all of this and missing important stuff. I'm so relieved that all of it didn't hit six months ago, when we were still flying by the seats of our pants as parents (well, we still kind of are, but we bounce back faster when we fall). But now, Ava's becoming this little girl who points to herself when you say "Where's Ava?" and discovers a dozen new things every day. Shutting the door at the end of the day on the lunacy that our jobs are about to become is going to be so important. We'll need to not only set aside time that is just for family, but we'll need to remember that merely being present in the room is not the same as being present in the moment.

"So, is Ava walking yet?"

Watch volume--there's a bit of squealing and "Oh my God!"-ing on this one.



Why yes, yes she is walking.

A Video Thank You

Dear Auntie Beth, Uncle Mike, Molly, Calleigh and Justin,



Love,
Ava.

364 Days

Tomorrow is Ava's first birthday.

Later this week, I'll post pictures from her party this weekend and talk about how much fun we had and how wonderful it was to celebrate with our friends and family.

Right now, it's about where this last year has taken us. At 11:00PM on January 11, 2009, Ava decided that it was time for things to happen and things have been happening every moment since that moment. I recently came across the little outfit that she wore home from the hospital, the one with the strawberry pattern and the little hat, the one that was so big on her. It's so small; I remember thinking as we put it on her, how will she ever grow to fit into this great big suit?

I remember wrapping her in a blanket that was doubled up because otherwise there was too much blanket and not enough baby, and then laying her down in the crib, and there was so much crib around her. And she was this little soft pink burrito in this great big crib.

I remember how long a 2-ounce bottle used to take at 4 in the morning, and how we wrote down every feeding for three months in the pink journal that I will keep for my entire life.

I remember how long 3 months of maternity seemed to be as it loomed ahead of me as I left work on that last day, and wondering how I would pass the time and thinking that maybe I'd get really good at Guitar Hero before I had to go back to work.

I remember watching Ava sleep, and knowing that I should try to sleep too, but how can I put her down when she's making all these cute little faces and she's so snuggly and I can sleep later.

I write this down because I won't remember all of it forever, and I want to make sure it doesn't disappear, because it's so precious.

We have spent 364 days getting to know this amazing little girl, and watching her figure out the world around her. We laugh because she laughs, we cry because she cries, we wake up because she wakes up, we love because she loves. It's amazing. It's exhausting, sure, but it's amazing. We're better people because we have someone watching us and learning from us.

Happy birthday, Ava. It's been the best year ever, and it's only the beginning. Let's go look at the world and see what we can see.