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.

This Was The Year That Was

Holy crap, what a ride 2009 has been. I find that when I look back each New Year's Eve, there tends to be a theme to the year that may or may not have been apparent while it was happening. This year's theme? 2009: The Quest For Sleep.

When it began, I was sleeping for none and Rob was sleeping for 3. Two weeks later we were both sleeping on eggshells. In the subsequent months, we came to realize that at some point we would need to sleep more than 3 hours at a time (or total) in the night. So we consulted our team of experts and learned how to Train Our Child How To Sleep. It involved a really awful week of being awakened around 1AM, checking to make sure there was Nothing Actually Wrong, and letting her learn how to get herself back to sleep, all the while checking on her in 2 minutes, then 5 minutes, then 10, then 20, then 40, then (one awful, exhausting night) another 40. The theory is that the baby will figure out that it's OK to go back to sleep. And after a few days, it worked.

So now we gauge how we're all doing by whether or not Ava sleeps through the night. Whenever something is up, she evidently needs our undivided attention, which is most easily accessible between the hours of 1 and 4:30AM. This is when we learn about teeth, fevers, rashes, and various other potential unpleasantries. We find that the helplessness we feel at not knowing what to do about whatever is going on is compounded nicely by not being able to call anyone for help because it's the middle of the night.

Sleep begets sleep, we've found. When she has a good nap during the day, there's better sleep at night for all of us. And that's our year.

Happy New Year from Las Vegas. We won't make it to midnight--Ava's down by 9:00, and we'll wear out long before the tape-delayed ball drops on the west coast. But that's OK. Because a good night's sleep beats the crap out of Ryan Seacrest and the Black-Eyed Peas.