Caution: Baby - wait, no, Toddler on Board

Jane is WALKING, y'all. Running, almost! She just picked herself up and decided it was time to keep up with her sisters. After teetering here and there for about two weeks, she took off in earnest. She moved up to a new daycare room last month with a bunch of walkers, and has blossomed like you would not believe. I think she realized pretty quick that survival of the fittest was the order of the day. She refuses to be left behind.

First spontaneous word: "bubble." I got Helen and Alice some bubble wands this weekend, and they were playing with them in the front yard. Jane was following them around and grabbing at the bubbles and chattering. After a few minutes, it clicked with me that she was saying "bubble."She's been mugging for the camera at school - check this picture out! Reminds me of her sisters, for sure.
What a wild year it has been. These girls are really growing up too fast. They will drive me to the edge of insanity one day, and drop me off and drive away at top speed with the windows rolled down and the radio cranked up, but to have those darling little babies in my arms for those precious few months will surely be worth it all.

Someone remind me of that later this weekend when I'm ready to sell them to the highest bidder.

Go to the ball!

The title of this post is something I heard approximately 8 million times at varying levels of volume during my 4-year tenure as manager of the high school boys' soccer team. We had a scrawny little science teacher who was one of those lightning fast players "back in the day" so he took on a bunch of truly lazy teenage boys and tried to whip them into shape. We had a few stellar players who grew up on soccer fields as kids, but two standouts do not make a winning team in the competitive world of high school soccer in the late 1980's. So I traveled to games and I stayed late after school at practices and I dutifully marked stats during the games and I slugged giant bags of balls around and I filled up coolers with ice water, all to watch us lose miserably. It had its moments of fun, and I made some friends, and I think sitting on the bus headed to an away game kept the teenage boys from being teenage boys. Maybe that's why the coach had me as manager all those years.

I promise this story has a point.

One evening in May, Brian was surfing online and found the local community's soccer league signup page. He promptly entered his information and signed up Helen for fall soccer.

Later, he told a friend at work that he had signed her up, and mentioned some fear about her ability to learn how to play the game. His friend reassured him, however, that there is only one play in soccer for children this age.

Here's the field and the ball:

Here are the children in a circle around the ball:

This play moves around the field at random. Kind of like Pong.

I realized that all those years I've watched children playing soccer, that man was dead-on accurate. Once you realize that, weekly "practice" becomes a little unnecessary. Which was a good thing, too, because 100+ heat index every afternoon last week cancelled the first practice.

Helen is on an under-6 team of 8 girls, playing 4-on-4 soccer on a half-field. Brian took her to her first game this afternoon and got some great pictures of the team playing. She had a lot of fun, but after she got home she confessed to me that she did not score any goals. Brian said they didn't really keep score or track who "won" the game, but it ended as a victory for her team at 4-3. Because Brian definitely counts those things.

So here's the point of the whole story: if memory serves, that total score represents more goals than the boys' high school team scored my entire freshman year. I'll bet those little girls had a better defense, too.

ZING! Here's where all my Facebook friends from high school stop reading my blog.

Brian told me there is one ringer on Helen's team, who runs like a gazelle being chased by hungry lions. Only in this case, the gazelle also dribbles a soccer ball, and once in a while, the lions play for your own team. You see, it was kind of unclear for some of the girls that they didn't have to fight each other for the ball. Which was amusing for the referees and parents alike.

Here's Helen before the game with her team, getting final instructions - she's the one in pigtails smiling at the camera instead of listening to her coach:


Here's Helen, in her lucky #7 jersey, running out onto the field to sub in for her first play:

Here's Helen running The One Play:

Here's Helen celebrating successfully running The One Play for several seconds in a row:


Wish us luck on a fun season. Once college football starts up, we may discover that Brian has signed me up for soccer, too.

Pithy, ain't she?

I started back to work this month after a very speedy 8 weeks of maternity leave. One evening Brian was on his way home after working out of town all day, so we girls were on our own for dinner. It was pouring down rain, and there were 3 cranky kids in the back seat, so I stopped at the KFC drive-thru to pick up a chicken dinner. I wanted to try those strips, and I ordered some side dishes to go with the meal, but I didn't realize that the combo I ordered came with individual sides, instead of the large family-style containers I wanted.

So I got the food home, where there was plenty of chicken for everyone, and I split the 2 sides between Helen and Alice. Helen asked for seconds on the mac & cheese, and I told her there wasn't anymore, and I told her why.

She put her head in her hands, sighed, and said, "Some days are just like that."

Indeed they are, Helen. Indeed they are.

The One Where I Try to Gnaw on Her Cheeks

Alice's first word is "tickle."  

Really.  Yeah, I know.  That's what I said.

The daycare teacher told me about 2 weeks ago that when she tickles Alice, she'll say "tickle tickle tickle" while she does it, and now Alice says that back.  Alice *loves* to say it, even when they put her in the crib for a nap, she'll say it to herself as she's falling asleep.   The only time she won't say it is when I am *trying* to get her to say it in front of other people (sigh).   Anyway, this morning Alice was in her highchair and Helen stood next to her, and Alice reached over with her hand to touch Helen's shoulder and said "tickle tickle tickle." No prompting from me, I hadn't been tickling her - she had finished eating breakfast, and I was taking pictures of her holding her baby doll. Just spontaneously, she reached out to do that to her sister. Cutest. Thing. Ever!  



So I told that story to the daycare teacher this morning, and she said, "Oh, all the nursery parents just love Alice, because when they come in, Alice crawls over to the babies and touches the babies' feet and says, 'tickle tickle tickle.' "

My heart just melted.  I COULD EAT THAT KID UP.

Setting the Standard

About a month ago, when Alice started rocking back & forth on all fours, I commented to Brian that all she lacked was figuring out how to move her hands. She moved her legs and turned around, but she kept her hands in the same spot. So Brian got on the floor with her, and proceeded to show her how to move her hands.

I remember yelling at him to STOP RIGHT THERE, MISTER. We already taught one of them to walk & talk, and now I spend my days telling her to sit down & shut up! So, why in the world would we show another one exactly how it's done?

Well, despite my best efforts at prevention, last Friday Alice put the rocking behind her, and started crawling. Those little hands moved her purposefully around the room - toward a toy, toward me, toward her sister - and eventually, as we all know, toward independence. (sobbing quietly into a Kleenex)

Whenever I left the room to get something, I'd come back to find her several yards away. She did laps around the living room all weekend, crawling like a little champion.

Tuesday, I picked her up from daycare, let her bite on my finger in the car on the way home while I was searching for her pacifier - and discovered she had a tooth. One of the bottom ones had poked through at some point during that day, and although it's tough to spot in her mouth, you can definitely feel it.

Two milestones in one week is really all I can handle as a mother. I could cheerfully freeze her at this point - smiling & happy & generally sleeping about 5-6 hours in a row. Instead, I'm getting a "baby" moving as fast as she can toward "toddler" and it's really freaking me out. Up next: driver's license!

I joked about that yesterday with my mom - the kids were still at daycare, mind you - and then this morning, in the car:

Helen: Mama, do you have a driving license?

Jennie: Yes, I have a driver's license.

Helen: Where?

Jennie: In my purse.

Helen: Oh. Okay.

Jennie: Why did you ask me about that? Where did you hear about a driver's license?

Helen: Well, you know, that lady on TV, the police? That lady?

Jennie: (draws a blank, no idea where she could have seen this) Uh-huh ...

Helen: That's what it was. I was just asking you about it.

Jennie: Okay.

Dear Reader, I will admit that I completely ignored whatever crap TV show she may have caught at some point in the past few days to say a quick prayer she wouldn't ask how to get her own driving license. Because this week, I don't need these kids to grow up any more than they already have.

Snow Day

Today we got about an inch of snow on the ground, and Helen took advantage of the fun to dress up and play:




Later Helen took her camera to get pictures herself.

Folks, I have to tell you that in about 15 minutes, she took 75 pictures.  Many of these pictures are out of focus because she moves as she snaps the shot.  Outdoor subjects of her photographic skills are blades of grass, rocks, fence posts, bricks, etc.  So now I have 75 pictures of mostly nothing.  

But after carefully persuing the camera's hard drive, here are the 3 best pictures from the lot.I'll call it luck that some of them happen to be artistic.  If you watched her running around the backyard snapping away like I did, you'd know why. Enjoy.

Milestones

Big Milestones: Lesser Known Milestones:

Baby latches on Baby latches on my jaw 

Helen's first word Helen's first swear word

Buying Helen a kid's potty Buying Helen a plastic mattress cover

Alice's eyes follow a toy Alice's eyes follow Mom's wineglass

Alice crawls to a cat's tail Cats stay away from Alice

Baby sleeps through the night Mommy sleeps through the night

One Million Questions

Helen starts the day with a long list of questions to ask.  Some of them are important, pertinent to maintaining a conversation, provide information on that day's agenda, or educate her on a topic of interest.

The other 99.9% are completely useless chatter - the proverbial talking just to hear herself talk.

I could be stirring something in a pot on the stove, and Helen will ask me, "Mommy, what are you doing?"  Or I could be watching a football game on TV, and she will ask me, "Mommy, are you watching football?"  Brian comes into the kitchen after putting on his coat and getting ready to leave for work, and Helen will ask him, "Daddy, where did you get that coat?"

I realize asking questions is the only way a 3-year old will learn anything.  God knows I'm doing a horrible job of teaching her.  But the questions.  Good lord.  There are times that I pick her up from daycare where my day has been busy and I'm exhausted, and I know before I even head home, I need to go to the grocery store and figure out what to have for dinner.  So the last thing I need is a long list of questions to answer.   But I have spent the entire commute screwing up my courage to the sticking point and then the whole way home forcing myself to answer as many questions as I can.  No matter how many I answer, or how hard I work on being patient and helpful and friendly - there are times when I reach my limit.  "Enough with the questions!" I tell Helen.  That's usually when she will respond with, "Mommy?"  Oh, yes - one more question.  Just what I wanted.

Conversation with Helen is fine.  I enjoy talking to her, and hearing her describe her day, and telling me about her friends.  It's when she decides to chatter, just to hear herself talk, and especially when I'm trying to get other things done, that the nerves start to fray.  I tell her to shush when I'm feeding the baby, because her talking will distract the nursing process.  I usually have to tell her twelve times to shush.  Her favorite response to "Shhh!" is "But Mommy ..."  

Sigh - 

Whoever talked about Terrible Twos must have offed the kids before they reached three, because THREE IS WAY WORSE.

So, about a month ago one of Helen's teachers left to care for a family member, and I finally met the new one about a week ago.  When I introduced myself, she said, "Oh, I love Helen.  She's very ... inquisitive."  Yes, Dear Reader, the teacher PAUSED and made up a nice long word to describe my child.  I couldn't help but laugh.  She had no idea that both my mom and my sister are teachers, and I'm more than familiar with this kind of doublespeak.   

Anyway, I told the new teacher that if Helen got a little overwhelming with the questions, the code word to make it all stop is, "Helen, enough questions."  She said, "No, she's fine.  Very sweet little girl."  And I said "Thank you," but what I was thinking was "LIAR!"  Must have caught her right after a bunch of Helen's questions, don't you think?

Which reminds me - a tidbit to share with you from one of my favorite bloggers, Mimi Smartypants, who talks about her daughter, Nora. Somehow, this feels like a preview of my future:

Third quarter report cards for kindergarten are out---mostly a collection of letters, W for "well-developed skill," P for "partially developed," and I forget what else, maybe C for crappy? Something like that. In the narrative portion of the card the teacher wrote, "Nora had an excellent academic quarter. She has a lot of knowledge to share." Oh yes, teacher-lady, I feel you. Nora has a lot of knowledge to share, and share, and share.

Memories

Just a quick note with some pictures - I've started putting Alice in the exosaucer and the highchair.  Almost instantly, the memories flooded in.  She really seems to enjoy herself.

Next up, crawling.  No, really.  She's already on her hands and knees, rocking back & forth.  She's been rolling over since just after New Year's, and I've been desperately thinking of ways to stop the inevitable from happening.  That whole moment where you put a baby on the floor, can leave the room to grab a drink from the fridge and come back to your baby in the same spot - all that is over now.  The daycare teachers tell me she spends her day rolling around the room, under the cribs, etc.  And she scoots around her crib, too.  Very mobile little baby so far.  This bodes well for the toddler years, don't you think?

Unforgettable

Here are 5 things I don't ever want to forget that Helen says.

1. "Callapitter" instead of caterpillar.
It now takes me forever to figure out in my head how to say it right. Some days, under extreme sleep deprivation, "callapitter" sounds like a good choice.

2. For a long time we called a serving of chicken "bock bock" after the sound that a chicken makes. Helen started it as a toddler, and after a while I was doing it, too. Giving this some serious thought lately, I don't know if Helen has actually put together that the chickens that walk around clucking are the same ones that end up in her Happy Meal. But calling it "bock bock" might be the best way to reinforce that very image. So I stopped doing it. Call me chicken (pun intended), but I'm not ready for that conversation yet.

3. For words that start with "Y" she uses the "L" sound. Especially "yellow" which is now "lellow." Typical conversation:

Jennie: What color is the sun?

Helen: Lellow.

Jennie: No, it's yellow, Helen. Ye-llow. Say it.

Helen: Le-llow.

Jennie: No. Try this. Ye ...

Helen: Ye ...

Jennie: llow.

Helen: llow.

Jennie: Ye .. llow.

Helen: Le ... llow.

Jennie: *sigh*

And for some unknown reason, L words got the Y treatment last year, like "Yama" instead of "Llama" or "Yove" instead of "Love." We worked *forever* on sticking that tongue between the teeth to make the L sound, and she finally got the hang of it. Now we're working on the reverse with the Y words. It never ends, people. But I realize, mine is not to reason why, mine is but to teach that kid how to speak correctly, or die penniless because she never graduated from med school with that speech impediment. "What we'll do is make a yateral incision along the yeft ventricle ..." "Uh, there's the exit. Use it."

4. Last weekend, we went to the "Libarry." It is my firm belief that at least four out of every ten adults INSIDE THE LIBRARY still say "libarry." So this may not be easily fixed.

5. Lately, Helen doesn't want us to leave the room without sharing something vital. If I get up to check on the baby or head to the kitchen, Helen asks me to wait, she has to tell me something. And then I pause while she struggles to make something up to tell me. It's a delaying tactic, I get it. And my sole purpose is to get out of the conversation quickly, so I can get on with what I was going to do, before I forget what it was. So I don't really engage her, and yet she comes up with these gems off the top of her head that are so sweet.

The one where I get the punchline:

Helen: Mommy, I have to tell you something.

Jennie: What is it?

Helen: You're the bestest mommy, ever.

Jennie: I know!


The one where Brian gets the punchline:

Helen: Daddy, I have to tell you something.

Brian: What?

Helen: You're my daddy.

Brian: That's what they tell me.

Under the Sea

Helen is an avid fan of all things Disney.  About a year ago, we watched Cinderella together, and since then, she's been hooked.  "Little Mermaid" is a big favorite.  She especially enjoys singing all of the songs.

Yes, that's right - she sings.  But she's inherited her mother's skills, which means you shouldn't get your hopes up about seeing her on American Idol any time soon, unless it's the Worst of American Idol Auditions.

Below I've embedded the YouTube video of "Part of Your World."  It's a touching song, one of Disney's finest moments, where the teenager Ariel laments about how her blockhead of a father just doesn't understand her because she wants to be on land with all the humans and the prince of her dreams.

My favorite moments in motherhood lately are when Helen sings snippets from this song.  She even adopts the "breathy" singing, when Ariel whispers some of the lines.  Watch the first minute here (you don't have to watch the whole thing, unless you're a giant fan).

I mention all of the above to tell you that Helen has a problem with pronouns.  Instead of "she wants" Helen will say "her wants."  Now I've noticed that she sings that way, too.  So at the end of that first minute, where Ariel sings, "Looking around here you'd think, 'Sure, she's got everything'," Helen will change the words to instead sing, "Her got everything."  CRACKS ME UP.

I babysat for a little boy who had pronoun problems.  Instead of using "I" he would say "me" - as in, "Me want juice."   And there was the 3-year old who talked about himself in the third person - as in, "Bob want juice."  So I know this is common - and also temporary.

But I'm trying hard to notice this cute stuff, because one day Helen will yell at me about not letting her take the car, upset that I'm being a blockhead who doesn't understand what she really wants, and I'll be able to sing "Sure, her got everything" and MAKE HER EVEN MADDER.  Because that's what moms live for, dontcha know.

Soothing Update

Alice has found her thumb!

And she enjoys a good pacifier, too.

Secret

About 6 months ago I taught Helen how to whisper secrets to her Mommy and Daddy.  Once in a while, she will tell me she has a secret, and I lean forward to let her whisper it in my ear.  Usually it's something like, "I love you."   Recently it's changed to "I love my sister."  Very sweet stuff, but generally not an actual secret.

Yesterday, when Brian was getting ready to take her to daycare, she announced that she had a secret.  When Brian leaned toward her, she whispered in his ear, "I'm going to get ice cream after daycare."

I couldn't be prouder of that girl.

More Video Fun

This morning I decided it was time to preserve for posterity's sake the current state of Helen's general knowledge.  Daycare is doing a great job of teaching her some basic life skills that she'll need one day soon.  Not only can she sing a little ditty titled "These Are the Months of the Year" (conveniently missing September), but she can also recite the Pledge of Allegiance.  She's proving once and for all that the kid is a great mimic, and I really need to watch my language.  

By the way, the bonus part in the Pledge is not the quick beverage break in the middle.  Stay tuned to the end.

These are the months of the year.

The Pledge of Allegiance.

Moments of Clarity

One morning this week, Helen woke up crying. I ran upstairs to see what was wrong, and she was lying frozen on her bed. When I asked what was wrong, the tears came pouring out, and she told me that her neck hurt. My first worry was "Does her head hurt, too? Does she have a fever?" Because moms tend to panic about the worst-case scenarios first: meningitis, paralyzed, you'll shoot your eye out, etc.

Turns out Helen had a pretty bad crick in her neck. She's been sleeping in her big bed for nearly a month, after a short transisition period in a toddler bed, and what I've discovered is that after I tuck her in and close the door, she gets out of bed, turns on the light and piles up her bed with stuffed animals and books. Lots and lots of books. If she wakes up, she sits in bed and reads books.

That night, she must have had so much stuff piled on the bed that she ended up sleeping in an awkward position, and so her neck was in pretty bad shape. She cried so hard whenever I tried to move her, and she absolutely refused to take a shower or a bath to warm it up. So I ended up giving her a little ibuprofen and sitting with her until she finally moved around. That took a couple of hours. The entire time was a struggle - she was in pain, and not understanding why, she was really cranky about it. Everything was a battle that ended in tears, including getting her dressed to go to daycare. At times it was just a marvel to watch her fall apart so easily. It's truly a crisis, when the world conspires against you in EVERYTHING YOU'VE EVER WANTED.

I felt bad about taking her to school in that condition, but I had to make an appearance at work. The teachers were very understanding, and I hoped that a little bit of time playing with friends would make her feel better. I called to check on her that afternoon and the report was that everything seemed fine. Or so I thought.

I got back to the daycare that afternoon, and the director walked with me on the way to her classroom. Without even asking, he said to me, "Today, you know, there were moments of clarity, when Helen really got it and she could hold it all together. And then, sometimes, it was just one giant meltdown."

My shoulders slumped. I could see the entire evening stretched out ahead of me, just like the morning had gone. And once I was home that night, I wasn't too far off the mark, either.

The next morning, she woke up and told me very brightly, "My neck not hurting, Mommy!" Ah, thank you sweet Jesus.

But I haven't forgotten the director's comment all week, and the more I think about it, the more I realize that's a very good description of motherhood, too.

When Did She Learn That?

Today I brought Helen home from daycare, and we went outside to play. After running around with the lawn mower, she hopped up on the swing with me and performed all of her new tricks.

She can sing the entire alphabet without any help.

She can count to ten without any help.

She can sing Twinkle Twinkle Little Star, skipping only one line and putting up her hands to show the diamond in the sky.

I knew I was paying that daycare a lot of money, and today, it was worth every single penny. Sometimes I feel so inadequate as a parent, not knowing how to teach her anything, except to repeat it over and over again, sometimes louder. And now she is telling me that she can do it. Message received, loud and clear.

This must be the rewarding part of parenting. I thought it was when she picks out a good nursing home for me.

Helen gets ready to date

I've got that kid. You know, the one who doesn't want to wear clothes.

As a former babysitter with decades of experience, I've witnessed it up close. One child wouldn't wear clothes before noon. The mother told me that she just went with it, and eventually the child grew out of it to become a lovely girl who took a job in an exclusive women's clothing store. Oh, the irony.

But I was not prepared for how hard it would be to keep clothes on my own kid. Literally, a temper tantrum ensues if I try to replace the diaper left behind in some corner of the living room. I try to force the issue because she's not potty-trained yet. And even if I manage to get the shirt back on her, she takes it right back off. If I persist in keeping her clothed, we both end up in a horrible mood. It's really not worth it if we're just hanging around the house.

Needless to say, it's been a tricky month for me. I can convince her to wear clothes if we're headed anywhere outside, but like the fearless mother who has treaded the path before me, I have decided to let her be naked if she really wants it that much. And pray that she grows out of it, sooner rather than later.

This morning, Helen and I were reviewing the names of various body parts. I taught her a new one ("ankle") and eventually moved on to "boobies." I've tried other euphemisms, but for now the name has stuck. Thank you, anonymous daycare teacher.

Anyway, when I asked her where they were, she covered them with her hands and said sternly, "Leave my boobies alone."

I sniffed, and wiped away a tear. Her father would be so proud.

Licky Licky Licky, Here Comes Helen

Helen's newest trick is to snuggle with her dad and proceed to LICK HIM ON HIS FACE. It's great fun to watch him squeal and protest while she pursues him.


:?


The funniest part is that she can dish it out, but she definitely can't take it:





The first night, he called her the Dreaded Tongue Monster. By the next night, it had changed to the Licky Monster.

Her father seems to be the only victim at the moment. She wandered over to try it out on her mother once, but got the reproving, stern look of "Don't even think about it, kid," and wandered right back to dad.

It's good to be Queen.

Birthday Video

For your enjoyment, here's a link to a short video (45 seconds) of Helen singing "Happy Birthday." I hope you like it. The copyright people should descend at any moment.

By the way, the video is chock-full of toddler speak at its finest. I'm fluent, but if you need a transcript, let me know in the comments.

Click here to see the video.

Trouble, with a capital T

This morning, I came in to get Helen out of her crib. As I leaned in to pick her up, I noticed her bare bottom. It's cute and adorable, in that special way that only baby bottoms are, but it also means something very important is missing.

I found her diaper on the floor next to her crib. The bars are pretty close together, so she had to either stand up and toss it over the side, or shove it between the bars. In other words, it didn't just FALL off and SLIP OUT of the crib.

So I (naively) asked, "Helen, did you take off your diaper?" She looked up at me with a big grin and said, "No-oooo."

I think this is where the robot starts screaming "DANGER, WILL ROBINSON, DANGER!"