Daddy decided that you were ready to start potty-training yesterday [precisely two days after your first birthday, if you're counting] while watching you do the squat and push in the throes of evicting a poopy. Despite the fact that we did actually purchase a toddlerpotty, it has not yet been set up (and I'm pretty sure that according to most, a normal potty-training age is more like two).
So when daddy ceremoniously announced he was "taking you to the potty," marched you over to the guest bathroom, depantsed your tiny self and HELD YOU OVER THE PORCELAIN POT EXPECTING SOME ACTION, I doubled over in hysterics/horror/disbelief.
THEN, after waiting 2.5 seconds and declaring a failure, daddy thought it cute to let you fly out of the bathroom half-nakey (the bottom half, natch) and into the den. As he called for mommy to check out the show, I turned my head just in time to catch my little Action Ansley stop mid-run, assume the position... and pee a delicate five-second stream of tinkle on our freshly-cleaned carpet.
I handed the paper towels over to your darling daddy and said "you know this is totally going in my blog."
*Disclaimer: In the interest of fairness—according to Granny Mac's recollection, baby Jonathan was potty-trained at the age of 7 months. So I'm sorry if daddy has some unrealistic expectations for you munchkin. He was apparently a wee pee prodigy. Or it could've just been the M&Ms...
So I've finally finished retroposting, and we now have entries beginning shortly after we found out we were having a baby (yay!). Most of the preggo pieces are not Ansley-directed anyway, but I wanted to go ahead and get them up so I could actually feel like we started in the right place. But since Ansley is pretty much the most entertaining and interesting part of our lives, it's still all about her [see below].
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I cannot believe how quickly the past year has gone by and how much you've grown and conquered and what a mini-person you are! This time last year, mommy was putting the finishing touches on the nursery and swelling with pride (and fluids) at your imminent arrival. And now you're about to turn one; run-tottering toward me with arms outstretched and a huge toothy grin. Believe me, munchkin, I have never been more proud of anything in my life. You are the best thing that has ever happened to me. (You and your daddy, of course ;)
Though it pains us to see (only because it happened so fast), you're walking around all "no big deal" now. I can barely catch you on camera.
"What? Pshhh, I came out walking."
My favorite time is when you're getting sleepy and you stumble around looking intoxicated and losing your balance. You are constantly trying to pick things up and walk with them (even things that are supposed to roll and/or support you), which gets significantly more difficult when you're sleep-wasted. And for some reason, tiredness also makes you think you can lift items that are 3 times your size. Which you can't. But it's cute to watch you try. ;)
We send you off to school sporting shoes every day now, since I think you forgot how to sit still. For some reason, you find it incredibly hilarious that this produces 'stinky feets.' Like, for real. When we catch a whiff and reel back in (semi-)mock disgust, you giggle like you totally did it on purpose.
Your personality is starting to emerge in little pieces. You imitate and respond to us more often when we ask now, giving kisses and pointing out your parts (specifically head, nose, tongue; with varying accuracy).
Apparently, you entertain everyone at daycare with impromptu bouts of interpretive dance (quite possibly a contributing factor to the stinky feet syndrome). But mommy does love that you're now old enough to perform So-You-Think-You-Can-Dance-esque lifts and flips. We try them out in the playroom when daddy's not around to get any ideas... (just kidding daddy!)
You have recently begun to scream erratically, often when frustrated (like a high-pitched siren-style scary movie scream that we're hoping will die down once we learn to communicate a little more efficiently), and I think you're going to be a bit of a daredevil. You absolutely love to be surprised/mildly scared. We play hide and seek and "I'm gonna get you!" like they're going out of style. You get a big kick out of running away and then turning back to make sure you're being thoroughly chased.
You're beginning to show interest in books, if only the continuous opening and closing of them. We still read to you.. well, let's be honest... at you. Sometimes you're just tired enough to let us finish a whole story. So clearly you won't be smart. But at least you're pretty. ;) Just kidding I'm sure you'll be smart too. And if you're not supersmart, you'll definitely be an athlete, as evidenced by your 'Action Ansley' running, climbing, dancing and tumbling skills. And intense practice of said skills.
Since you usually only let us read whilst you are otherwise occupied, mommy will occasionally just pick up a book and simulate storytime (in vain hopes that you'll suddenly take to it). Last week when I got to a passage about mischievous monkeys, I made the "oooo-ooo-oo-aah-aah" sound and you dropped down to all fours and began jamming out as though headbanging. Totally ignored the rest of the book, but you must really like those monkeys...
After a little coaxing and several unsuccessful attempts, you've even grown to enjoy the tree swing handydad hung for you last month. Though mommy is much more cautious and tends to remove you from a situation if you don't seem to like something, daddy's philosophy is "try it until she likes it." Surprisingly, this makes for a good balance. If we don't confuse the crud out of you.
You now randomly approach Bo and envelop him in sweet hugs, which is the most adorable thing ever. But Hannahbelle is beginning to catch your attention, too, and you find it comical to play the "I'm gonna get you" game with her. Except you like to be the chaser. Although Hannah is very good at evading capture, she pauses to let you think you have a chance and makes you laugh when she feverishly spins her wheels and takes off again. You also enjoy tempting one or both of the dogs with whatever puff, pretzel or cracker you have in your hand and then swiftly revoking it like "Oh here do you want some? Syke. This is mine, dogg."
Your favorite field trip to date is Emerald Pointe. Or as we like to call it "the giant bath tub you get to stand up and walk around in." You aren't so much into splashing, but you frolick and float as if you and water are BFFs. The first time we went, you rode the cyclone and almost instantaneously zonked out. As it was church youth day and there were no free chairs to be had, mommy and daddy took turns holding you up in the kiddie pool. I'm sure it was quite humorous to passersby to see a baby in a lifejacket all passed out and suspended in the water, but you float-slumbered for a good hour, powered up and were ready for round two of bath/playtime.
Though I'm sure you could care less what you're wearing, mommy likes to pretend you're her life-size doll and dress you up in at least two outfits per day. Since your current wardrobe rivals that of Mariah Carey, this is not hard—except that you hate the process of getting dressed. And forget putting a bow in your hair. If you spy or feel its presence, it must die (or be yanked out at once). Apparently ribbons are generally offensive, since you also try to pull them from other peoples' hair.
(just before you caught wind of that evil hairbow...)
You're still teething like crazy, and were actually out of school right after you turned 11 months for the fever that accompanied the teething. Which is no small wonder because you were getting four new teeth at the same time. You have since popped two more, for a total of eight (four top and four bottom). Since you absolutely love the taste of Tylenol, we survived. Barely.
In other happenings:
Another one of your future crushes, Cooper Samuel Morrison, was born on July 13th!
Isn't he just so precious you want to snuggle him for hours? Well too bad; you probably won't be allowed to date him either. (Just kidding). Maybe his G.I. Joes and your Barbies can ask your dads if it's ok and then date. ;)
Ah who knows if or which any of you munchkins will end up together. But as Aunt Jaclyn pointed out, you and Jake may be destined to become "future power couple Jakesley."
And if you don't, Jake will always protect you.
Just like he does his big sister:
Well hello there. Your request to stalk my life has been approved (oh who am I kidding we all know you're here for little a-bomb..).
After much resistance and delay, I'm finally starting the requisite baby blog (which is apparently paramount on the parental responsibility scale). I can't promise my posts will always be witty or interesting since I'm new at this and most will be done through a sleep-deprived haze.
I'm willing to bet if you visit me here, you already know the mcdetails, but just in case:
I'm a left-handed ninja perfectionist who can dance all by myself (but I like to dance in the circle of trust with my midjas). I eat tea and drink Pibb (which I refuse to call Pibb extra). I am perpetually late (but it's really Jon's fault). And my next child will likely be named Drizzle. (Totally kidding about that last one. Jon just freaked out a little bit...haha).