We know when we're being patronized. Really.

A couple of weeks ago, we were encouraging Ava to eat her dinner, and she confirmed once again that she is, without question, our kid. She took an over-size bite of her pasta, held it in her mouth for a minute, and then she said "MMMMMMMMMMMMMM" like "this is the shittiest thing I've ever had put on a plate in front of me, but on the off chance there's ice cream for dessert, I'll play along".

It's been happening with some regularity.  Tonight, we got it on video.

I'm really not sure how she learned sarcasm at such a young age.  I wasn't expecting this until she was at least, oh, I don't know, 10?  Maybe 8.  Not freaking two and a half.

Rob and I both need to learn how not to laugh when she calls our bluffs.  We'll be sailing merrily along with our gold-star parenting, and she'll bust out with some random thing--like waving her little fist and yelling "Jackass!" when Rob honked (justifiably) at a car that cut him off.  I don't know WHERE she picked THAT up (shut up).  He got home and told me that story, and I just howled.  Everyone who has heard that story has just HOWLED.  Because a two-year-old using the word "jackass" in the proper context?  Never not funny.

Remind me that it's funny when she teaches her friends this same funny little stuff.  HARDY HAR HAR.

"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.

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.

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.

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...

...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.

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.

We? Are in trouble.

So today about 10:30, Daycare Lady calls me at work.  It seems Ava got a bit tangled up in a toy bin while she was reaching for The Toy That Was Furthest From Her.  When they attempted to extricate her she kind of, well, lost her mind.  We hadn't seen Hulk Baby for a while.   Things have been pretty uneventful.  We're back on a fairly regular sleep schedule that actually involves everybody getting some sleep.  We were lulled into a false sense of security.  We got cocky.

So today, when the batphone rang, it kind of caught me off guard.

She's OK.  Daycare lady called just to let me know that Something had happened, but there didn't seem to be any lingering effects.  She calmed down after maybe 10 minutes (with the help of a bottle and some Cheerios).  She had her normal nap and lunch and snack.  She was a little edgy for the rest of the day, though.  At pick-up, I picked my first battle: Ava doesn't want the coat? Ava does not have to wear the coat.  All righty then.

In the past 11 months (precisely 11 months, in fact...) I have worried about many things where Ava is concerned.  Today, I worry that my kid is going to handle anger and frustration in much the same way as I do.  That is, she's going to explode like a grenade as her first reaction, and when that passes, and it will pass quickly, she'll be over it, she'll be fine, and everyone around her will be like "what the hell was that?!".  I want to make sure she learns how to handle stuff like that in a way that doesn't alienate everyone and perhaps trigger a semi-negative component to a performance review at her job (don't ask.). 

Or, maybe, she's just a toddler and we just have to suck it up for a few years.  It could also be that.

So 11 months ago, to the minute, I had a contraction.  I didn't know it was a contraction.  I thought it was my dinner settling.  Dinner on January 11, 2009, was In & Out Burger, which I am convinced is what put me into labor.  So at 9:30 PM that night, I stood up and stretched and felt something ODD.  Like I was being stabbed by my burger (double-double with onions).  And then nothing happened for probably an hour.  And then everything happened all at once.

It's been 11 months of astonishment.  We know Ava pretty well now.  But she's changing so quickly that sometimes we don't keep up like we should.  I looked at her the other day, and she's not a chubby little baby anymore.  She's a (still somewhat chubby but less so) little girl.  She's about to take off walking (OMG we are doomed) and one day soon the babbling is going to pause and she's going to say a word and mean what that word means (hopefully it's not something she picked up whilst riding with me...).

'Twas The Month Before Christmas

It's been a little hectic.

To recap, with bullet points...

• It wasn't a tooth; it was roseola. Roseola is a stupid illness.
  
• Her gastronomic repertoire of solid food consists of sausage, pancakes, quesadillas, string cheese, rice, honeydew melon, tilapia, chicken (grilled, baked, fried, and nuggeted), bananas, cheerios, peas, fish sticks (but she's not a gay fish, and if you don't get this, you don't watch South Park), soft tacos, bean burritos, spaghetti & meatballs, ravioli, and just about anything else we can cut up small enough for her to feed to herself
  
• Twenty-one pounds, nine ounces,
• First haircut happened and, no, I didn't save it. It was just a trim of a strand that was hanging in her eyes.
• The crawling is out of control, and she is officially faster than we are.
• She really doesn't like people. If you're not me, Rob, Grams & Gramps after about 20 minutes, or any of the Daycare Ladies, don't get too close.
  

I think that's it.

Last night, we went to the opening night of the Opportunity Village Magical Forest. We figured it wouldn't be too busy (see above RE: don't get too close...) and it wasn't too chilly outside. Grams & Gramps were there too, and I'm so glad they came with us. Ava got her first taste of Christmas. She saw Santa in his sleigh with his reindeer and 4 showgirls in elf suits (hey, it's Vegas, whatever) and her first Christmas tree, 40 feet tall, covered in lights and all twinkly. She saw all the things that make Christmas look like Christmas. And she loved it.

One of the attractions is a train, and we thought she might like it. She likes to look at stuff and at people (as long as they don't get too close...). I think it was a success :)




How cute is that! We had so much fun! Toward the end of the night, she even smiled at people she didn't even know. Her heart grew three sizes that night!


So now our quest is to find any Christmas light display that we can find and show it to her.

Tuesday we're driving to San Diego for Thanksgiving. Ava will have her first turkey and mashed potatoes (we have rubber bibs locked and loaded) and we're looking forward to getting out of town and seeing the folks. Safe travels and Happy Turkey to all!

Battlestations! Red Alert!

It begins.



Busy, isn't she? She's spent the last 8 1/2 months looking at everything in the world and soaking it all in, and now she's going to go check it out.

She's pretty cute, too, huh?

The past couple of weeks have been kind of crazy. The whole work/home balance thing is bigger than we thought it would be. Some days, I wish we could narrow it down to just the Rock and the Hard Place. But, this is the business we have chosen. Not all of it is going to be perfect, but we're managing.

Last week was Parents Night at Daycare. They said it was going to be an opportunity for the parents and teachers to get together to discuss curriculum and transitions. Since we didn't know what any of that meant, we eagerly attended :). And we learned a lot. Evidently, curriculum exists even at the infant level. Every day, Ava learns stuff and not much of it is accidental. She learns how to interact socially because she spends her day playing with other babies who are all at different stages. She's about in the middle, as far as development goes. So she's been watching babies hit their own milestones (this is Daycare's language, but it makes sense) and that apparently inspires her to reach her own. Hence the crawling and clapping.

"Transitions" means "when do we move Ava to the next room". It's not based on age; rather it's determined by development. Some one-year-olds are running around like monkeys while others aren't quite there. They told us what she needs to be doing before putting her in the Toddler Room. Long story short, she needs to be walking steadily and be drinking from a sippy cup instead of a bottle. In the Toddler Room (it sounds important so I'll capitalize it) they all nap at the same time. They eat together, family style, and they learn how to use utensils and serve themselves and share blah blah blah.

Honestly, it sounds like a prime opportunity for food fights and chaos, but they know what they're doing so we're not going to argue too much until we see it for ourselves. If it works, everybody wins.

That's about it. It's cooling off (yay for the end of oppressive heat!) so there will be more evening walks and meals on the patio. We're looking forward to the holidays--I already have her Halloween costume. She's going to be Princess Leia. The Force is strong in this one, you know.

The Sponge Migration

You've seen it on Discovery Channel when they show the ocean floor--these creatures that seem completely stationary actually do move, but they have to use time-lapse photography to show it. So they set a camera up and film for 8 hours and then they speed it up and it looks like rush hour. This is what we have going on in our living room.

Ava is not crawling. She never was too thrilled about "tummy time", which is what all the Advice Givers tell you that is THE MOST IMPORTANT THING YOU CAN DO FOR YOUR BABY'S DEVELOPMENT because it forces babies to learn to push up off the floor with their arms. Yeah, we hate that here. But she does love to sit and play with her toys. We plop her down on the floor and put some toys within reach, or just out of it, and she will amuse herself for half an hour. She doesn't topple over very often anymore. She'll just sit and play and talk to us and to herself and to her toys and everybody's happy.

This week I noticed that she wasn't where I put her. She was in the same position, but instead of being next to her playmat, she was 3 feet away playing with the fishbowl that Auntie Beth gave her (she loves it!). And then 15 minutes later, she was next to the Jungle Thingy with the spinning balls but she didn't creep over, she didn't roll. I don't know how she moves.






She just kind of rotates and reaches for something and when she sits back up she's a foot away. I don't know how she does it. We lack the technology (and patience) to do time lapse, and if our video camera can speed up I don't know how to do it. But she moves. I don't know how she moves, but she moves and it's FREAKING ME OUT.

In a related story, we're going to start childproofing the house this weekend. Because if she's this sneaky at 7 months (holy crap, 7 months!) we are totally screwed once she can get up and walk around.

Hello My Baby, Hello My Darlin', Hello My Ragtime Gal

You know the song, don't deny it. In the cartoon, the guy finds the frog in the cornerstone, and the frog starts singing.


The guy gets dollar signs in his eyes and takes the frog to a booking agent where the frog sits in the box and gives an indifferent croak. The guy tries to make him dance


And the frog does nothing.

How does this relate to us? I have come to the conclusion that this child is a reincarnation of Michigan J. Frog. For hours a day, she is jumping around, moving, poking, and doing high kicks. And this is reassuring to me because it means that she's OK, so I'm not complaining.

But the moment that I put someone else's hand on my belly, or that she's on deck for an ultrasound that is supposed to track her movement, there she goes, collapsing into an indifferent crouch, doing her best "No, really, I'm just a frog" imitation. Yesterday, the tech at the perinatalogist's office actually commented on her lack of movement, and said "Hmm, looks like we'll have to zap her." I'll say that again: "LOOKS LIKE WE'LL HAVE TO ZAP HER." What?! She brings in this device that can only be described as a miniature cattle prod, puts it on my belly, and pushes the button. I jump, baby jumps, Rob looks on in horror because they are evidently electrocuting his wife and child (it really wasn't so bad, just startling). And all of this because Speck only performs for me.

I've spent months trying to get other people to see this show. There have been nights where I slept 30 minutes at a time because she was so active. I've had to walk out of meetings because I couldn't sit comfortably because of the movement. And the second anyone looks at it, or I give in and say "OK, come here for a second" and try to let someone else get in on the action, she goes back to her peaceful slumber. People look at me like I'm nuts. Rob thought I was making it up until he snuck a peek one night (when Speck obviously wasn't looking) and caught sight of a couple of backflips for himself.

*sigh*

Everything is good. Probably too good, in fact. Her heartrate is still strong, she's in no distress, my blood pressure is really good, plenty of amniotic fluid. My OB took a measurement of my belly, and said "I don't know where you're packing this kid!" because while Speck's a normal size, I'm running a bit small. She's got another patient who's also 38 weeks who is "big as a house" and can barely move around. So I'm lucky there. And I'm taking comfort in reminding myself that she can't stay in there forever.

Can she?

I'm thinking he was kidding.

"Please please please don't go into labor next Sunday!"

Perhaps I set the bar too high by not insisting that our wedding be at a key moment in a major sports season. It was in May, which means that baseball season was just getting underway. There were no high-impact games happening on our wedding weekend, and we had a lovely, non sports kind of day.


Seriously.

I'm a planner. Everybody who knows me, knows this. I'm very much interested in making sure that the stuff that happens to me happens in a nice, orderly fashion. I've kind of let this go as far as the whole "having a baby" thing is concerned. We're not in charge here, and we've accepted that as a fact.

At least, I have. It wasn't easy, either.

So now, here we are at the end of the regular football season. The Cowboys may or may not make it into the playoffs, and we'll know next week after they play the Eagles. While I am interested in the outcome (GO COWBOYS!) I have a few other things going on that are just a bit more, um, pressing. I accept the fact that I may miss the game. Because I may be DELIVERING A CHILD INTO THIS WORLD.

Rob is a Chargers fan. Oh, wait, let me amend. He is a Chargers SUPER fan. We have stickers on the back of the Honda that proclaim his allegiance to his team. He has a vanity license plate that refers to the "bolts". License plate frame is Chargers. We have one of those pink football Ladanian Tomlinson jersey onesies that should fit Speck perfectly next season. I knew what I was getting into before I married him. We went to a Chargers/Cowboys game in 2005 and he was rather displeased when the Cowboys won and I was happy and vocal (or "mouthy") about it. Hmpf.

Next Sunday night, the Chargers play the Broncos for the AFC West title. Being a SuperFan, he's SuperExcited. And as he's skipping around the living room making grunty noises about beating the Broncos (let's face it, beating the Broncos is always a good thing) and how awesome it will be to watch that, he notices me standing in the kitchen and says, and I quote "Please please please don't go into labor on Sunday."

Oh. OK baby. I'll get right on that. Because I'm in charge of all of this. And even if I weren't in charge, I'm sure that we have created a child who is not only already aware of our hopes (like being able to watch the games next weekend) but also entirely willing to delay (or hurry) her arrival in order to make us happy.

But I'm not mad. Oh, no. I understand that there are things going on in this world besides the birth of our child. If I do decide to go into labor on Sunday (because after all it is up to me) I'm sure there will be a TV in the delivery room and we'll be able to watch the Chargers beat the Broncos, and even after having watched the Cowboys beat the Eagles. And we'll laugh about this business about how we worried about missing our games. I do hope the Chargers win, and that they win through the playoffs and make it to the Super Bowl.

Where they will meet the Cowboys again, for the first time (besides pre-season) since 2005. Go Cowboys.

Coolest. Pictures. Ever.

It's been 10 weeks since we've seen the Speck show. We've gotten some feedback from people who tell us that they love seeing the pictures but it's sometimes difficult to tell what we're looking at. These might be a bit easier to decipher.




And the obligatory, super cute "Look At Her Little Foot" picture..


Really amazing, huh? We thought Dad & Florence might get a kick out of seeing not only the pictures but the live show as well, so they joined us this morning and I'm so glad they got to see her moving around. The staff at CMFM is great, and we've had the same ultrasound tech for the last 3 visits. She tends to narrate what she's looking at, so we got a full tour of Speck's functions and bloodflow and "princess parts" (i.e. she's still most definitely a girl). She's measuring at the 60th percentile for growth, which is well within the normal range , and she weighs 4 pounds 12 ounces, give or take half a pound, which is right where she needs to be at 32 weeks.

The tech actually commented on how active she is: "This has got to be the most active 8AM baby I think I've ever seen!" Yikes. That sentence should be followed by a gong or the music from the Psycho shower scene. I hadn't even had my single precious cup of coffee yet when she said that, either. The more time that passes, the more we realize that this kid is going to keep us jumping.

In other news, I had to take that stupid, awful 3 hour glucose tolerance test again on the weekend. Seriously, that makes for an awful day. Fortunately, my system seems to have leveled itself out and the numbers were about where they should be. This was good news after a month of fingersticks and blood testing four times a day. I'll get the details at the OB's office tomorrow morning, but it was good to hear that the results were better overall.

Let's see, what else.... the nursery is perilously close to being finished. We need to build a crib and that's about it. This is what it looks like right now. It's green, and I don't know if that's represented well by the current lighting we have in there...


That big box is the crib. Maybe this weekend? We make no promises.


This one's not a bad shot of the color--you can kind of tell that it's green. Note the stroller and the very small, very cute clothes hanging in the closet.

I just finished painting this nightstand--it's pink and super cute. The lamp was my mom's when she was growing up in Ventura.


So we're very very close to ready, roomwise. We have a bookshelf that was in my room when I was a kid that we'll paint to match the nightstand. A glider/rocker has been ordered, and hopefully will be here before the end of the month.

One last thing before I finish (I'm getting kicked pretty good by our active little princess which means that it's about time to go lay down) in regards to her name. We're pretty sure that we've come up with one that we like, and we've decided to keep it to ourselves until she gets here. It's a good name, that is easy to spell and we think it sounds nice with our last name. So bear with us, and play along. It's our turn to have some fun here, and we're looking forward to sharing it with you when the time is right.

Hi, I'm Kristie and I'm a Bounce House.

You know those inflatable bounce houses that people rent for their kids' birthday parties and stuff? And the kids get amped up on whatever it is kids eat (yeah, I know, we'll learn...) and drink and then they go inside the bounce house and jump around like this but much much faster (push play):


Yeah. That's me. Oof. During the day, she's either pretty quiet or I'm moving around enough that I'm just not feeling her as much. But when I lay down, or stretch out on the couch and try to relax, this child gets inspired to jump around. A lot. Constantly. She weighs maybe a pound and a half, and she somehow managed to gather up enough velocity to wake me up last night. I am officially nervous about whether she'll be like this once she's on the outside....nice and quiet all day and then she comes to life like a Tasmanian devil once the sun goes down.

This would be a good time for all of our friends who have already done this to tell us their stories about how their active little pre-natal beans got it all out of their systems and were happy little swaddled angels once they came out.

Stalked by the paparazzi

We're starting to realize that Miss Speck is not a fan of having her picture taken. People go to a lot of trouble to record every facet of her development, and she just doesn't cooperate. Like today, for example. Very important milestones needed to be confirmed, and she did her best to make everybody beg for it. She rolled around and flipped and put her arms over what they were trying to look for. But we did get some good shots.

Work with me here...
OK, if you squint a little you can see a big blob that is her head, looking at you (kind of scary, we know). The one little floating circle on the left is her right hand, and her other arm is folded over her chest. She spent most of the exam with her arms up around her head like that, much to the chagrin of the sonographer.

Another head shot. Top of her head is to the right, and the pointy part on the left is her chin. Her nasal cavity has formed, as have her eyelids and ears. Evidently, this is a good picture. We'll take the tech's word for it. She's beautiful :).

Profile! How cool is this!? The white spot above her head is her hand, in a gesture of drama and exasperation (she is my kid, after all...). Look at that little button nose. CUTE.


Another profile, and she's looking away now. You can see more of her torso, and that black spot is her heart. The tech looked at her heart quite a bit, and all four chambers are pumping furiously (136 bpm today...). The sonogram machine has a function that adds color to highlight bloodflow, so this one was all lit up blue and red. Super cool, that.


This is her right foot. The smaller blob behind it is her left foot. She crossed one behind the other like I do. Awww...

So that's where we are today, at 22 weeks. Speck has 10 fingers and 10 toes, and we also got to rule out spina bifida, which is what happens when the skin doesn't cover the spine (there's more to it than that, but visible spine with no skin is a big indicator of Bad Things Happening). Today was also really cool because I could feel her moving around while watching her move on the TV screen. It's just overwhelming. She weighs about 1 pound 1 ounce, and she's about 8 inches long. She's still measuring right where she should. We also re-confirmed in no uncertain terms that she is most assuredly a girl.

I'm back at the perinatalogist in 10 weeks. While I'm bummed that we won't have any new episodes of the Speck Show until November, this means that there's nothing that they're monitoring us for, no issues that we're anticipating, no reason to hurry back. She's healthy and growing, and there's nothing more that we would wish for.

It's Just Rob!

First, a bit of background...

You've all met Rob, a/k/a "Mr Hilarious". Years ago for Halloween, he dressed up as the androgynous character Pat from Saturday Night Live. In case you're not familiar...

The whole premise was that it never was revealed whether Pat was male or female. And it was impossible to guess. Pat's companion was named Kelly, and the sketches were full of clever red herrings. Pat's gender was never revealed.

That is, until now. Yeah, I know. Alarming. Disturbing. Shocking. And, to those who saw it in person, utterly hilarious. Jokes like this don't die in Rob's family. Oh, no; funny once, funny forever. So a few weeks back, before we knew that, unlike Pat, Speck was most assuredly a girl, Aunt Janice, Uncle Ken and Cousin Anna gave us a gift. Rather than tiptoe around the whole "we don't know if it's a boy or a girl" issue, they dove right in.


At that moment, I knew that the in-laws had truly accepted me and were welcoming our child into the hilarious fold that is the Family Berthelotte. Note the authentic wig and glasses. I was, and will forever be, truly touched by the gesture. Naturally, retaliation is both anticipated and expected. We'll get them back in true hilarious fashion.

I'm at the perinatalogist's first thing tomorrow morning, and I should have a slew of cool pictures to post tomorrow night. Check back later!