I wanted to do something different today in honor of daddy's birthday, so I wrote the following for him:
I like that you type with your fingers on the right keys; that you care whether or not your clothes match and when you do your "fun hair" on the weekends.
I love that you give me a real hug when you get home from work and how you get Ansley in the morning sometimes when I'm too tired to wake up.
I like that you say you love me 20 times a day, and that every time you mean it.
I love that you've wanted a family since college, and that it's totally obvious when I see you with Ansley.
I love how excited you were to finally get a truck so you can do "man things" and get dirty (but that you feel the need to clean it immediately when that dirt shows up).
I like that even though you detest normal shopping, you have fun buying toys and kid stuff.
I like that you can cook, and that you don't have to follow the recipe (sometimes ;).
I love that we somehow always end up matching even though we claim not to try, and that you actually know how to iron a shirt and don't make me do it.
I like that you always want to ride with the windows down-even if it messes up my hair, and I love that you automatically assume the driving position when we go somewhere together.
I like that you're just as happy to spend time with the fam as you are to have a guys' night, that you "get sucked in" to my shows, and that you get so much joy from playing with A.
I love that you still call me beautiful and that you get mad when I dismiss it.
I like that even when you dream-cheat on me, you feel bad about it (haha sorry about that).
I like that you go through your mail with an actual letter opener, that you have files for property, and that your favorite games involve money and real estate (dork ;)
I love that you look good in a suit.
I like how you call margaritas "marg"s, that you get overly-emotional and cry at the movies (Toy Story 3…), and that you have an abnormally strong gag reflex—even though it requires that I handle the particularly saturated diaper-changing occasions.
I like that your dancing repertoire includes the James Brown and random handstands, and that neither of those require much liquid courage before they're unleashed.
I love that you think date nights are just as important as I do.
I love that you are genuinely touched by peoples' kindness and faith, and that you're constantly striving to give more of yourself.
I like that you are just as awed by your love for Ansley as I am.
I love that you're my lobster, my penguin, and my other half; and that this list doesn't even cover half of what I love about you.
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...
(Ansley in her patriotic best; courtesy of "cousin" Brooklyn!)
So the other morning mommy was stunned awake with a sudden splash of cold water on my face and neck. I shot up at the speed of light (so fast are my ninja-like reflexes), ready to repay the culprit with a few choice adult words. Though I wouldn't have put it past daddy to pull that prank just for laughs, deep down I knew better. I turned slowly around to meet your grinning mug, and the animosity vanished more quickly than the amount of time it had taken to erupt. I swear that smile is like sunshine. I can't even be mad at you when you dump half a bottle of water on my head! Might as well call the SuperNanny now...
Of course, daddy was not beyond reproach, but all he could offer was "I didn't know the cap was gone!" amidst raucous laughter. I'm not sure I totally buy that..
(I mean isn't that just the best little belly laugh?!)
Your current favorite game is dropping stuff and getting us to pick it up. If we don't, you lean over and try to retrieve it yourself (whilst endangering your life). This is only fun for one of the parties involved.
You also love to practice baby gymnastics with daddy. You're especially great at the back flip over his knees to the floor maneuver. You like to do it until you're too dizzy to get back up. Mommy doesn't usually let it get to that point. (I know, I'm such a buzzkill).
Interestingly, daddy has begun training you like a dog. When you get too close to a hazardous item or situation, he yells "AH-AH-AH" loudly in warning. Yesterday, when he wouldn't allow you to examine his tool bag, you turned around, stared angrily into his eyes, and yelled back. When he repeated (AH-AH), so did you. It went on like this, tit for tat, for several more rounds. Mommy felt like she was in the middle of a jungle monkey standoff. Amazingly, you never touched the tools. But you were not happy about it..
You've begun imitating certain other things we do, too. When daddy picks you up, gives you a hug and pats your back, you pat him right back. (The cuteness meter on that one is off the charts).
Also of note, you have discovered your nose, and for some reason find it necessary to stick your finger up there as often as possible. This recently resulted in the picking of your very first boogie, which daddy called mommy over to see and then expeditiously wiped on her arm. Blegh!
Bo is still your dog of choice, and you've started calling him by name. In fact, you've started calling lots of things "Bo-Bo"s (or just "Bo"). I did notice they were trying to teach you "ball" at school, so it may be a combination of that and your love for Mr. Bojangles.
You enjoy feeding yourself, too, and have started refusing to return the spoon if you get ahold of it. Since you try to swipe it the entire time, it's pretty much impossible to feed you anyhow. You can imagine the amount of food that does not land in your mouth. I'm sure you prefer finger-foods, but dangit the pureed stuff is so much easier! If I manage to get anything in from said spoon, you regurgitate it postehaste and catch it, then examine the texture on your fingers. Disgusting. We are seriously going to have to work on those table manners young lady..
You've taken to compulsive waving as well, and will whip out this little floppy-wristed salutation on cue (when we say "hi" or "bye"). Strangers find it adorable, which just encourages you further. :) I'm pretty sure the hi wave and a few hand/footprint art projects are what we have to show for the obscene amount of money we pay to your daycare. Glad to see it's paying off. Just kidding I know it's worth it. They actually seem pretty buttoned up there, and have you drinking from a sippy cup, signing for "hungry" and "more," and dragging your own sleep mat to the floor when you're tired. We've yet to replicate any of those at home. (You've trained us well, young Anslikin).
Oh yeah, and when Granny picked you up from daycare last week, they told her
"She walked 5 steps today!"
Um, excuse me? I thought they weren't supposed to tell us that so that we think we're the first ones to see you walking!! I mean you've been standing expertly and practicing the wobble-step wobble-step fall with great persistence, but we've yet to see more than a few strides. Let's step it up at home, precious. (Kidding, kidding). Actually, it is most adorable to watch you walk around [barely] holding onto daddy's hand. If it were up to him, you would never let go.
Exhibit A:
I know I shouldn't be too anxious; you'll be running away from me in no time.
Daddy is still resistant to your growth. I mean I'd like to keep you a baby as long as possible, but am aware that at some point, Peter Pan, everyone has to grow up. So I said to your (normally intelligent, fairly rational) father "I mean I'd like her to stay little too, but what what do you want to do, block her development?" His answer was a firm and immediate "yes." Okaaaaay...
Then as we prepared you for bed, he tells me "I love that I can just tap her on the bottom randomly and it's not weird because I'm her dad." He is so going to purposefully embarrass you when you get older. Can't wait for that. ;)
Speaking of love taps, you (little miss bright eyes) have been contracting quite the attitude lately. Mia says it's because you're so intelligent that you're reading us and trying to figure out how to get what you want. I just think you get frustrated and don't know how else to communicate. But honestly, there are times when you freak the h out. The most notable example stems from your recent love-affair with Bo. Though he remains wary of your tiny presence, Bo has grown more tolerant as of late. He graciously allows you to pat, climb, pull and mouth him with as much zeal as your little body can possibly possess. You love to play the "mess with Bo until he lumbers off and then chase him to another location and repeat" game. I'm not sure Bo knows you're playing. If we at any point interrupt this bonding (by picking you up), you thrash and whine and twist about as though set on fire. I would think you were in pain if I didn't know better. Current tactics to disarm this bomb include distracting you with whatever toy or person is available, removing you from the room/situation, and bribing you with food. Just kidding about the last one. Taking you away seems to help, but it's tough. It's crazy to me that we're having to deal with this already. Aren't you supposed to stay a baby a little longer? I may be starting to see daddy's point of view on this whole not growing up thing...
Maybe with our own stubborn selves, we should have known you'd be strong-willed. But if this is your first challenge, bring it on. We will nip it in the bud, my little diva. A battle of wills. 'Cause you know what princess? We can out-stubborn you.
I'm sorry to do it and you may hate me for it sometimes, but you can't always get what you want. If you cry sometimes, though, you might find you get what you need....
(I'm joking. We will always try to meet your needs. That's what parents are for.)
The other side of this strange, misshapen parenting coin is that you've also been experiencing bouts of separation anxiety. You have a few favorite people in the world and everyone else is just scenery. Scenery that does not hold the baby...
The preference tier is as follows:
1. Mia
2. Daddy / Bo
3. Miss Alecia and/or Miss Nevona
4. Mommy
5. Granny
etc. (you get the picture)
For one reason or another, Mia is the absolute apple of your eye. To you, no one is more glorious and deserving of your love than your Mia Sally. Well, daddy might run a close second; but if your beloved Mia is around, you only have eyes for her! We discovered this during our week at the beach when you would cry for Mia if mommy took you and reach upside-down-backwards in search of her embrace.
And hey, where's the "I don't love one parent more than the other; I love them both equally" filter, kid? Aren't you supposed to be born with that? At times when daddy hands you off and I want nothing more than a hug or snuggle, you scream bloody murder (and a pathetic "dadada" on a loop) to return to your fave. I'm sure this makes daddy feel good, but I have to secretly squelch the tears because admitting it hurts my feelings is ludicrous. You don't mean anything by it, I know. But I want so badly for you to love me. I mean I'm sure you do, but I'm emotionally high-maintenance and need the reassurance. Blessedly, daddy and Mia understand and give mommy extra hugs for support. And daddy had a wonderful suggestion of greeting one another before we greet you. That way we can show you the correct hierarchy. It's mommy and daddy; then you. I think the theme here is "this is our world, and we're fitting you in."
And now (since I've mainly written about your noncompliance so far and am feeling a tad guilty because it's really such a small part of your world), I'd like to share some of the things I love about you at almost 10 months(!):
When you pull up on something and then turn around and wobble a step or two towards me I get so excited (but then I realize that walking = toddler and you're not my little baby anymore, and it makes me less anxious... ). Daddy's probably thinking of any way possible to keep you from taking those steps, but I'm afraid it's imminent.
You're eating everything (thank daddy for that) with your pinschers, which is basically the most adorable way I can think of to get your dietary allowance. We like to lay it out on the tray and let you go for the gold. Puffs and breadcrumbs turn up just about everywhere, but I'm sure some of it actually lands in your mouth... The most recent of daddy's ill-conceived food tasting choices? Dorito cheese straight from the finger. Am I on television?
If you happen to be sleeping and wake up to a face you love (see list above), you burst into that shining smile and start waving hello. That floppy little gesture just melts me to pieces.
Evidently, you can now produce dog sounds. Miss Nevona shared with me today that you have the "ruff ruff ruff" down pat. You are becoming quite proficient in jibberish as well. I bet you and Bo have secret conversations..
Often when we play, you create your own obstacle course just so it will require you to climb over us and back again. You particularly enjoy shimmying monkey-style up daddy's chest while he's sideways and rolling over to his back. Gymnast? Maybe. Daredevil? Clearly. I'll start practicing the fastest routes to the hospital.
At daycare, you have a sleep mat (on account of the pulling up in your crib thing). Daddy and I find it impossible to buy that you actually fall asleep there and stay still, but your teachers insist. When daddy picked you up yesterday, they divulged that you were so ready to nap at 2:30, you voluntarily dragged yourself over and laid down on your mat without prompting. Aw!
You're loving water (aside from the ocean waves, but they scare me too so we're not counting that). Daddy waded with you at Aunt Jennifer's 30th birthday Tie-Dye and pool party, which was your first time in a big girl pool. You do have precisely 9 bathing suits—several of which are bikinis that may or may not be wildly inappropriate for a baby—so I certainly hope you continue this water infatuation. I'll put some beach pictures up asap. :)
You also have a preference for water from a plastic bottle (sadly, I am not kidding—but I think it's because you find it necessary to envelop the opening while drinking). If it's not in the bottle, a straw will do the trick. And despite daddy's major sippy-cup resistance, he is happy to teach you to use a real cup. Observe:
You dance. Not that I'm shocked in any way, considering the 2 bachelorette parties, 2 weddings, numerous dance dance revolution battles and countless super baby dance parties of your "youth." And you love music. Granny contends that country is your fave. Traitor. You are my baby, right? I'm hoping to catch you on daddy's phone because corroboration exists only on the camcorder at this juncture. But it is too too cute.
No, you're not in that video, but I'm just sayin'.. I won't be surprised if they contact you for the next one.
In other news, Aunt Jennifer and Uncle Jay recently welcomed your future crush, Graham Nance Weaver, just over a week early on June 9th.
Isn't he great at his job? (sleeping)
He is as little, beautiful, and sweet as can be, and I have to apologize in advance that you will not be allowed to date him, as apparently this would be awkward for your father and Uncle Jay. (You can take it up with them). But I'm sure you'll be great friends and you can show him all sorts of good stuff like how to fling pacis and eat sand. Jake still has your heart for the time being anyway.* ;)
*I really am joking about these things. But it's only because I so want you to bond with your non-related cousins. I know you're all very popular in your own circles, but mommy and your aunts are kinda close. So if you wouldn't mind humoring us, playing with one another and at least trying to be pals, we'd greatly appreciate it. And I bet you'll have some great stories when you're older (you know, when you're all about to graduate from UNC).
Recently, Jon bought a truck. Though I stood vehemently opposed to such a thing; preferring SUV over truck 10-to-1 (you know, for family vacations? transporting things in a covered area? extra seating?), I'm swallowing my pride and admitting that - ok - as far as trucks go... it's really nice. I will even admit to thoroughly enjoying the power of sitting high above all the toy cars and jamming out to my ipod while driving said truck. Since I'd always conceded that it was Jon's new vehicle and his decision, I didn't exactly have much sway in the matter anyway (though obviously it didn't stop me from voicing my opinion...). My sole caveat was that there be enough space to comfortably fit a car seat.
Now, Jon has his dream vehicle (the first new car he's ever owned), Ansley fits (regardless of the fact that I will at some point do a face plant attempting to hoist her high enough to clear its massive frame), and my husband feels like a man. In the words of a wise girlfriend "every man needs a truck." Ok, I get it.
So you may be wondering, but what about the minivan/swaggerwagon? Why not consider that other sweet ride? It's true that if our family is blessed to multiply much further, we may start feeling the need for an even larger mode of transportation. But the van I will resist with much more fervor than the truck. Not because it isn't nice (and seriously, nothing against anyone who has one because they are truly the cadillac of child-transportation instruments), but because I have always wanted an SUV. Perhaps with a little luck, we'll manage to skip the van stage. But I have to say, it is kind of hard to resist with ads like this:
If Jon and I were in a commercial, it would totally be this one.
And, for totally gratutitous ridiculousness, the music video:
So yesterday at your 9 month checkup, the doctor said we could start giving you baby-sized pieces of our own food as long as you can hold and chew it without issue. When I mentioned this to daddy, he took it as a license to go crazy with the food-tasting, and tonight you tried green beans, your first french fry, and (!!) pork barbeque from Shane's Ribshack. Mommy was not happy with the fact that pork was your first meat, and promptly offered you a shred of my chicken. I fear we're creating a monster. But it's very cute to watch you grab the pieces with your thumb and forefinger and try to land them in your bird-mouth.
Dr. B said you were lookin good. 78th percentile in height; 15th in weight. They'd be concerned if you weren't so tall. Sounds like you take after your mommy. :) You're just starting the clingy stage and becoming wary of strangers, but you warmed up to the doc after a bit and even performed some of your tricks for him (the latest of which is flipping your paci sideways and gripping it with your two teeth). You also clapped and danced (I'm assuming the music was playing in your head), and stood on mommy's lap.
You're presently not the most talkative of kids, but just the way you look at the world makes me think you're processing it all. And anytime you want to start actually calling me mama (instead of just throwing it out there sans meaning) is good with me. You give wonderful kisses—especially to daddy. You only bit me that one time... ;)
Your favorite snack for the moment is pretzels, which daddy has been giving to you for several weeks without my knowledge. You basically just suck all the salt from them and gnaw the bare stick. When I came home and caught this action going on one night, daddy said "she loves pretzels!" unapologetically. Yes, this was before we had clearance from the doctor to give you finger foods. But I guess no harm done if you don't get sick. Thank goodness you're a very tolerant baby, and can take pretty much anything we throw at you. Maybe I should thank God for that, too.
pretzel or teething tool? you decide
perhaps some lobster bisque for the lady??
yes, that is seriously what daddy is feeding you...
We're still doing the 'your bed most of the night; ours the rest' thing, but I'm moderately convinced it's only because daddy wakes from his temporary couchbed and grabs you on the way to ours (perchance sleepthinking you're restless even when you're not). Don't tell him I said that. I have to collect evidence first..
In the mornings, you stir around 6:30. And though we'd love just that half hour more, your waking process, again, is too cute for us to hate. First you tumble from side to side (mommy to daddy) and see if this gets our attention. You may still be half-sleeping, but it works. Then the paci dislodges and you turn onto your tummy and up to all fours. One of us generally attempts to coax you back to bed with a gentle check against the pillows at that point. But you are not to be discouraged and soon muster up to a stand, looming over one of our faces (employing the head for support). I'm not sure how you know, but the poking, prodding, pulling and smacking does it, and we are up to attend to your every beck and call once again. Periodically, mommy and daddy are more tired and therefore more resistant to your blows, and attempt to endure the abuse longer just to slightly extend the rest.
Recently, you found that pulling daddy's armpit hair will shock him up swiftly. That was a fun morning.
Don't even get me started on the falling asleep process. It's more complicated by far, especially on days when your naps aren't regular, but always entails a paci and blankette (i.e. soft piece of fabric posing as a blanket, but smaller—often with a stuffed animal attachment). We call your favorite one Ellie, since it's essentially a flat pink elephant (no, not fat; flat. Seriously, these things sound absurd when you try to explain them). Anywho, you still perform the flailing exercise and rub your Ellie on your cheek to soothe you down. Daddy was watching you do this one day and wondered aloud "do you think she's still gonna have to do that when she, like, goes off to college? I mean her roommate will be lying there peacefully nodding off, and she'll start flapping a pillow about over her head trying to fall asleep." Then he demonstrated and I lost control. We get the biggest kick out of you, baby. It's probably not even funny to anyone else, but I love our inside jokes. You are terrifically hilarious.
getting teeth!! i finally noticed the little white specks peeking through your gums on March 20th, your 7 month birthday, and when i went to check them out with my finger they were razor-sharp. hm perhaps that's why they call it "cutting".. we have a steady supply of orajel swabs and teething tabs on hand for the pain, which sometimes wakes you up at night. daddy figured out a trick to make the swabs work faster by blowing into the broken end. we also learned to rub it on your paci for maximum effectiveness, and i always put a drop of water on the tabs before giving them to you so they dissolve better. i suppose it's funny that these things are of utmost importance nowadays, but when you have a baby in pain you'll pretty much try anything.
(you can't see them, but i promise they're there!)
going through bouts of speaking. a couple weeks ago it was "da-da." last week "mmma." and lately you've just starting emitting short (rather loud) shrieks and experimenting with consonants (i keep hearing "vuh" "fuh" and some strange clicking sounds that i think may mean something in another language). yesterday you were chattering on in the car and i was mimicking you in encouragement, and you literally hissed at me. i was a bit taken aback, and then found myself apologizing to you as if you meant something by it..
(you'd never hiss at daddy... ;)
i'm still claiming that your first word was God. even if it was by accident, you very clearly enunciated "gah-D." ;)
omg to the tenth: CRAWLING. i have to admit that every day for at least 2 weeks i've thought you were literally on the verge and would crawl the following day. but you were holding out. clearly, you were capable. i know this because on several occasions, we would place a toy just out of your reach and you'd drop down on all fours, take a couple crawls (just close enough to fall down on your tummy and reach it), and then pick yourself right back up to a sitting position. but you didn't realize you'd already done it, so most of the time you still kept a "safety" leg underneath in order to return to your seat. i think the magic happened when we began encouraging this and clapping every time you'd go down and come back up. when i picked you up yesterday, they told me you'd crawled (and had announced it on the board outside the door). they also said that after doing so, you sat back, grinned and gave yourself a hand.
handling the sippycup like a seasoned vet (daddy is crushed that you're growing up so fast). but to be fair, you have been holding your own for some time now.. VK asked a couple months ago "did you know she holds her bottle by herself?" yup. this was at like 5 months. you do have a voracious appetite that probably motivated it early. clearly you get that from your daddy. ;)
(chugging like a pro. right, dad?)
enjoying banging items together and relishing in the sounds they produce. you have also discovered "the bounce," and do so while seated if you're super-excited (like when we come to pick you up from daycare and you can't quite remember that you know how to crawl now), and in your exersaucer. i especially enjoy this, because you look like you're having fun. and because i would totally get in one of those over-the-door bouncy-seat thingies if they made them big enough.
still attached to the paci; though you don't seem to need it as often. olivia might disagree, however, since daddy shared with me a little incident that occurred the other day when you got to school and sat down next to her sans paci; noticed she had one in; and deftly plucked it from her mouth. whoops. evidently, it works both ways though because daddy went to help you out with some orajel the other night and you disengaged your own paci to expeditiously insert it into his mouth. also, you practice the "paci nunchucks" diligently, and won't hesitate to clock anyone who invades your personal space during practice sessions.
wiggling around in that crib like a clock. as in, i put you down facing 12, and when I check an hour later, it's 3. another hour and you've done a complete 180 and are pushing 6 on the opposite end. when you're trying to fall asleep you sometimes thrust back abruptly and half the time end up shoved into a corner banging your head against the bars. am seriously rethinking this "bumpers are bad" thing.
having your first emotional fit. last night we introduced you to teething biscuits and may never be doing so again (jk). when daddy thought you were done and went to take one away, you balled up your fists, lowered your head and squinted ferociously. and the noise that exuded from your petite little frame was nothing short of sheer rage. it sounded like a rabid hamster. in short, you hulked-out. we would have been more sympathetic except that it was so funny daddy and i could not stop laughing.
trying to remember to call my mom by the correct grandma moniker. since the beginning of time (last august), it's been mimi sally [technically it started with the dogs even before then]. but after hearing a little boy repeatedly call his grandmother "mia," mimi was smitten and asked to be called this instead. forgive me if i use them interchangeably for a while and confuse the crap out of you.
(lovin on your mimi mia!)
anxious to meet your "cousin" and future bff, Nora Kate! aunt marisa had teeny weeny cutie pie Nora on St. Patrick's Day, so as soon as she's old enough we'll make the introduction. though i may have to have a talk with you beforehand about proper paci etiquette..
(isn't she cute!?! it's ok if you're jealous of her hair... so are most men)
so gosh darn beautiful. the saturday before easter, we had your "6 month" (oops! just a little late...) photo session with Lindsey. you were sadly not in the greatest of moods - hating the grass and outside in general, and keeping your stunning smile under wraps. but somehow she managed to get some great shots. i hope i'm not violating any copyrights by posting them here as long as i attribute them to Lindsey Turner Photography, but i think my absolute favorite picture of all time is the last one. :)
i cannot even express how amazingly much i love you!!! i am so incredibly blessed to have you in my life and in my arms, little one.
and i have to say, i never saw it coming. i mean i knew i wanted to be a mom and i knew i'd like it, but i really had no idea. it is truly such a gift that i have God and daddy to thank for giving to me. i don't think i can ever thank them enough.
anyone who knows me can attest to the fact that i'm one of the more modest people you'll meet. but the act of birthing and subsequently feeding your child pretty much requires you to toss that modesty out the window from the top of the empire state building the day your baby is born. i had to have an out-of-body experience to really be ok with the fact that that many people were looking at - and groping - my ladyparts. even still, i often make euphemisms for b-feeding (see i can't even say it here). i tell people i'm "making food" or "going to feed ansley." but my fav as of late is "going to the shore." this most recent genteelism was borne of the MTV phenomenon Jersey Shore, wherein the self-proclaimed Guidos and Guidettes dance to house music by "beating up the beat" with frequent and forceful fist pumps (you can't make this stuff up). therefore, going to the shore = jersey shore --> where they practice fist pumping --> which is kind of like milk pumping... you get it, right?
well sometimes we don't have to go all the way to the shore and ansley just drinks from the tap.
this happened yesterday when daddy came up with a glass of milk and tried to toast you, saying "we can drink our milk together!" but little did he know, you require full concentration when taking a milk break, and would have none of it. seriously - completely stopped gulping, turned your head around and let out an "uuuhhh" in exclamation of your annoyance. when daddy tried to reason with you, he got another, even more annoyed-sounding "uhh." (translation: go away daddy, this is my time). poor daddy finally gave up and reluctantly trudged out of the room, but not before warning you "those might be yours now, but not forever..."
(don't mommy and daddy just have the most beautiful valentine in the whole wide world??! we think so :)
For our first Valentines together, we decided to take it low-key and just follow what has become our weekend tradition of going out to breakfast. We sat in a booth at Tex & Shirley's where I unloaded every toy and plaything known to man and you proceeded to ignore them and flirt with every boy baby in sight. Little harlot. ;) There must be something about boys, because you seem to stare a bit longer at them [I'm convinced this all started on your first "girls' lunch" with Heidi and I when a mom walked by with a little boy and you literally turned your head to follow them as they passed].
(your "flirtface")
Well this particular day there happened to be an extremely cute little dude at the table next to us with his family. His sister gave him a Valentine (which I just thought was super-specially-cute anyway) and out of the blue he lets out the most charming baby belly laugh! Daddy looked at you and said "What the heck?! Why don't you do that yet?" And come to find out, laughing baby was literally only 1 day older than you. "Well," daddy said, "that's fine. She'll be laughing tomorrow." Hehehe I wouldn't hold my breath. Now daddy and I both know that babies develop at different rates; and as far as talking goes, you really aren't unusually vocal. So it's totally ok that you're not laughing yet. You do at least giggle. But then we started thinking - should we be taking this personally? I mean, maybe we just aren't that funny..
;)
Happy Valentines Day, my little lovebug.
(playing the bongos)
(way too happy about that coupon in your hands. that's mommy's little girl!!)
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).
