As
swAC.//////////////////grb bvfzxc ydfx.?<
MIOCX QS 2 1 `1QFCX T54444R q1VGNCXJICXJ
69nj89 99ihn KHJ 9 HJ LJK TU IOIPaZX
(I let Brooke type. This is what she had to say. Let me translate for you, since I now speak Baby. "Mommy, I'm uber tired and ready for 8 oz of formulated bliss. Hook me up then put me down, will ya? Thanks. Best Mom Ever." I promise that last part was her words, not mine. That's what TU IOIPaZX means. Duh.)
Tuesday, September 21, 2010
Thursday, September 16, 2010
Hi.
Oh, hi. Remember me? My Mommy hasn't been a very good blogger lately. She says she's been too busy to blog. She hasn't told you that I have my first cold, and I'm miserable. (Nasal aspirators are the devil!) She hasn't told you that I climbed 8 stairs the other day. She was behind me the whole time, don't worry. She hasn't told you that sometimes I say "Hi" (or something that resembles it) when people say it to me. She hasn't shown you a picture of my adorable gym shoes and told you that they are a size 5 (!!!) which is just ridiculous for a girl my age. She also hasn't told you that my new favorite snack is cucumbers. I promise I'll convince her to be a better blogger soon so y'all can keep up with me! But not this weekend. We're off to Cleveland to watch my Uncle Kyle get married. I've got my yellow party dress all ready for the occasion. You can expect some super cute pics next week! Peace out, friends.Tuesday, September 14, 2010
Redlegs love.
We finally got back to another Reds game! We went almost the whole season without getting the Big Lady back to a game. We even had a new hat all ready to go since the last game, but it just now got a chance to be used. And she looked so freakin' cute in it with her little ears tucked in! The Pirates catcher thought so, too, and threw her a ball very early on. Surprisingly, she didn't try to eat it. She also got to meet Rosie Red, and that meeting went about as well as the last character meeting we had - horribly. She better get over this fear before we take her to Disney, because scared or not, she will take the obligatory Mickey Mouse picture! (And no, we don't have this trip planned. Scratch that - it's planned in my head, just not booked.) We had so much fun at the game, even if it resulted in a very late night for Brooke. Our resilient little trooper was so good the whole game - love my night owl! Enjoy the pics :)
Sunday, September 12, 2010
Snack time!
Brooke and I love snack time! She has a bottle around 2:00 and doesn't eat dinner until after 6, so a snack is in order in the middle somewhere. She loves it and I enjoy the time-filler (because I typically run out of ideas for entertainment by this point in the day.) Snack time has become even easier now that Brooke has mastered the pincher grasp, i.e. picking up small bites with her thumb and index finger. She can now help herself to puffs, fruit, etc. While she eats, we typically have chats and play peek-a-boo and all that jazz (or Mommy starts dinner, but, if I'm being honest, this is a rarity.) Love, love snack time!
This video also shows how much Brooke adores her Daddy. His arrival after work often coincides with snack time, so it's seriously her favorite time of day. Right around the 1:08 mark, you'll hear the door open and see the complete elation on my daughter's face when she sees her Daddy. She just goes crazy every time he comes home - such a beautiful thing. Enjoy!
This video also shows how much Brooke adores her Daddy. His arrival after work often coincides with snack time, so it's seriously her favorite time of day. Right around the 1:08 mark, you'll hear the door open and see the complete elation on my daughter's face when she sees her Daddy. She just goes crazy every time he comes home - such a beautiful thing. Enjoy!
Wednesday, September 8, 2010
Little goofball.
My daughter is a nut. Seriously. A weirdo. A hilarious little ball of crazy. She is one of the goofiest kids I've ever met. (From whom could she have gotten this silly & sassy personality? It's a mystery.) She makes me laugh a bazillion times a day. She's a certifiable loon. I give you the evidence:
Exhibit C - She will wedge herself in between the fireplace and her house to play with the empty toy basket, rather than the hundreds of toys she has spewed all around our family room. It looks like Geoffrey the Giraffe threw up in this place, I swear. Yet she goes straight for the non-toys. I'm going to get her an empty wipes container and some plastic hangers for Christmas.
Exhibit D - She shoves a third of a banana in her mouth, whole. And then proceeds to chew the whole thing up for the next 3 minutes. (This is either evidence that she's a goofball or that she has a big mouth/likes to eat. I think her thigh rolls are proof enough of the latter.)
Exhibit A - She crawls around the house with a turtle bath toy in her mouth. Oh, you couldn't tell it was a turtle? Maybe that's because his ENTIRE HEAD is in her mouth. She literally crawls around like this like it's no big thing.
Exhibit B - She loves to stand on the A/C vent and let the air blow up her dress.
Exhibit C - She will wedge herself in between the fireplace and her house to play with the empty toy basket, rather than the hundreds of toys she has spewed all around our family room. It looks like Geoffrey the Giraffe threw up in this place, I swear. Yet she goes straight for the non-toys. I'm going to get her an empty wipes container and some plastic hangers for Christmas.
Exhibit D - She shoves a third of a banana in her mouth, whole. And then proceeds to chew the whole thing up for the next 3 minutes. (This is either evidence that she's a goofball or that she has a big mouth/likes to eat. I think her thigh rolls are proof enough of the latter.)Monday, September 6, 2010
I need a nap.
It has been a ROUGH 36 hours up in this joint. It all started with a craptacular night for the Big Lady. Well, really, it was hell for all of us. Brooke's body has decided to rebel against her transition from breastmilk to formula. Not sure if it's formula in general or the type of formula I'm giving her, but she is one gassy gal! On top of that, the husband and I are a mess. Our allergies have started a "Say No to Fall" campaign and, as a result, we are both a big, fat, coughing, snotty mess. (Add snot to the ever-growing list of bodily fluids I'm not afraid to blog about.) So when Brooke decided she wanted to wake up at 1:45 and then stay up until 3:45, we all suffered.
Now when I say she was "up", I don't really mean she was awake that whole time. I was, she wasn't. She didn't, like, cry for 2 hours straight. Trust me, if she had, the husband would be blogging about this right now because I would have checked myself into a padded room at the hospital. (And that would be tragic, because the husband isn't nearly as witty as I am.) She's not one of those kids that cries endlessly- thank GOD. Here's how it goes with her: she cries out, I go in and give her the pacifier & rub her back until she falls back asleep, I tiptoe out, climb into bed, and 5 seconds after I get comfortable she cries out again. Repeat. For hours. Sometimes she gets so worked up that she stands up and reaches those chubby arms up for me to pick her up. And, sometimes, I do. Because I'm a sucker for those big now-brown eyes. When that happens, I sit and rock her back to sleep, then stealthily transfer her back to bed (as stealthily as one can when one has to literally drop her into bed because it's so low to the ground.) This has about a 25% success rate; most of the time she pops back up and we start all over.
I promise this is as painful as it sounds. And sometimes it goes on forever, as it did then. So as I'm up and down messing with her, getting no sleep in between, I'm also hacking up a lung and trying to figure out how to breathe. Hot mess, folks.
Somehow - I'm still not sure how - we survived the night. I knew that the day was going to be just plain awesome. And it was. I spilled formula all over the kitchen floor. Brooke peed on the carpet mid-diaper change. (This was actually hilarious. She wiggled away from me while I dealt with her smelly diaper. Before I could pull her back to get a new diaper on, I noticed she was sitting in a puddle. I was laughing so hard, I didn't have the strength to lift her pee-soaked body. So as the husband begrudgingly picked her up, shouting "This is why we don't have pets!", I was racing up the stairs in a fit of giggles to get the bath started.) Basically, I was in a fog all day. The lovely, whine-filled day was capped off by craptacular night number 2 last night. Same 2+ hour fight to get her back to sleep. Same groggy, foggy Mommy today. And poor Daddy's not doing much better.
Needless to say, we could all use a nap.
Now when I say she was "up", I don't really mean she was awake that whole time. I was, she wasn't. She didn't, like, cry for 2 hours straight. Trust me, if she had, the husband would be blogging about this right now because I would have checked myself into a padded room at the hospital. (And that would be tragic, because the husband isn't nearly as witty as I am.) She's not one of those kids that cries endlessly- thank GOD. Here's how it goes with her: she cries out, I go in and give her the pacifier & rub her back until she falls back asleep, I tiptoe out, climb into bed, and 5 seconds after I get comfortable she cries out again. Repeat. For hours. Sometimes she gets so worked up that she stands up and reaches those chubby arms up for me to pick her up. And, sometimes, I do. Because I'm a sucker for those big now-brown eyes. When that happens, I sit and rock her back to sleep, then stealthily transfer her back to bed (as stealthily as one can when one has to literally drop her into bed because it's so low to the ground.) This has about a 25% success rate; most of the time she pops back up and we start all over.
I promise this is as painful as it sounds. And sometimes it goes on forever, as it did then. So as I'm up and down messing with her, getting no sleep in between, I'm also hacking up a lung and trying to figure out how to breathe. Hot mess, folks.
Somehow - I'm still not sure how - we survived the night. I knew that the day was going to be just plain awesome. And it was. I spilled formula all over the kitchen floor. Brooke peed on the carpet mid-diaper change. (This was actually hilarious. She wiggled away from me while I dealt with her smelly diaper. Before I could pull her back to get a new diaper on, I noticed she was sitting in a puddle. I was laughing so hard, I didn't have the strength to lift her pee-soaked body. So as the husband begrudgingly picked her up, shouting "This is why we don't have pets!", I was racing up the stairs in a fit of giggles to get the bath started.) Basically, I was in a fog all day. The lovely, whine-filled day was capped off by craptacular night number 2 last night. Same 2+ hour fight to get her back to sleep. Same groggy, foggy Mommy today. And poor Daddy's not doing much better.
Needless to say, we could all use a nap.
Thursday, September 2, 2010
Shadow.
Brooke went to the doctor on Monday (to have her hoarse voice issue checked out - we're going to reevaluate at her 9 month appt.) She weighed in at 26 lbs 10 oz., the 50th percentile for - wait for it - a 2 year old. A toddler. Not surprisingly, my 8-month-old now officially outweighs her 2 year old cousin.
Take a moment to let that sink in.
OK, let's proceed. So Brooke heard "size of a 2 year old" and decided that gave her permission to act like one. That's right, we have entered the Terrible Two's in this house. Or at least it feels that way. The Big Lady now has a temper. Sigh. Trust me when I say I'm working feverishly to quell this behavior before it gets out of hand. Meltdowns are not well-received. Because she's so mobile now (more on that in a minute,) we're constantly chasing her around and pulling her away from things she's not allowed to be into. She does not appreciate this. At this age, she doesn't yet understand boundaries, so I think consistency is key. If we're consistent in what we allow her to play with, she'll eventually learn...or at least that's what I keep telling myself. It's just going to be a battle of wills.
Our day has become one giant game of shadow. Either she's following me around, hoping to get ahold of whatever I have or whining for me to pick her up, or I'm tailing her, making sure she's not getting into trouble. Because if I don't tail her, I end up having to say things like "Brooke, let's not use the toilet to stand ourselves up" or "Brooke, the trash can is not a toy." Or I'll find her climbing up the stairs or trying to eat the curtains. I try really hard to strike a balance between hovering and letting her be independent. If what she wants to play with is harmless, it's all hers; I don't want to stifle her curiosity. But I do draw the line when situations could be potentially harmful. (That being said, I do let her climb up on the brick fireplace. The hearth is low to the ground, the corners are covered, and I'm always right there. She loves to climb. She's a little daredevil, after all!)
The following are examples of the craziness we live with. Now if you'll excuse me, I must go chase down my heavy baby.
Take a moment to let that sink in.
OK, let's proceed. So Brooke heard "size of a 2 year old" and decided that gave her permission to act like one. That's right, we have entered the Terrible Two's in this house. Or at least it feels that way. The Big Lady now has a temper. Sigh. Trust me when I say I'm working feverishly to quell this behavior before it gets out of hand. Meltdowns are not well-received. Because she's so mobile now (more on that in a minute,) we're constantly chasing her around and pulling her away from things she's not allowed to be into. She does not appreciate this. At this age, she doesn't yet understand boundaries, so I think consistency is key. If we're consistent in what we allow her to play with, she'll eventually learn...or at least that's what I keep telling myself. It's just going to be a battle of wills.
Our day has become one giant game of shadow. Either she's following me around, hoping to get ahold of whatever I have or whining for me to pick her up, or I'm tailing her, making sure she's not getting into trouble. Because if I don't tail her, I end up having to say things like "Brooke, let's not use the toilet to stand ourselves up" or "Brooke, the trash can is not a toy." Or I'll find her climbing up the stairs or trying to eat the curtains. I try really hard to strike a balance between hovering and letting her be independent. If what she wants to play with is harmless, it's all hers; I don't want to stifle her curiosity. But I do draw the line when situations could be potentially harmful. (That being said, I do let her climb up on the brick fireplace. The hearth is low to the ground, the corners are covered, and I'm always right there. She loves to climb. She's a little daredevil, after all!)
The following are examples of the craziness we live with. Now if you'll excuse me, I must go chase down my heavy baby.
This last one is Mommy's leg barrier, my attempt at keeping her away from the computer while I'm on it. And yes, I used it multiple times while I typed this post.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
