Monday, August 31, 2009

Little GIrl, Big Attitude!

Every morning when I open Anna's bedroom door after she bellows her "good morning," really more of a "get your butt in here and get me out of this cage you call a bed, woman!," I see a little toddler fist thrust over the crib rail at me clutching her pacifier. She knows the pacifier comes out of her mouth when she gets out of the bed. We've got her conditioned well. Only, now the nuk-handover comes with a little 'tude.

Instead of just a "hey, mom, good to see you! Here's my nuk!", I get more of a "Yo, lady, get over here, take this thing from me and pick me up. Faster, darn it! I have cats to terrorize and cheerios to stash in various corners of the house!" Trust me, her look really DOES convey all of that.

As of now, Anna knows how to nod her head yes. And she does it frequently. To everything. And always with a look of "why are you even asking me this question, of COURSE the answer is yes!" Do you want some milk? Yes. Do you have a poopey diaper? Yes (Frequently a lie). Do you want to go to bed? Yes (ALWAYS a lie and is followed by much kicking and screaming if we comply with her false request).

If we're having this much "fun" with the word yes, imagine the excitement when she learns the word no!

Even though she dishes out the attitude with an extra large serving spoon, she's kind enough to offer a side of sweetness every once in a while, too. Like this morning when she saw her dad for the first time since waking up and she looked at him with the biggest smile and said clear as day "Daddy!" Or when she leans her head against your shoulder when you ask her to give you a hug. Or how she offers endless (sloppy) kisses to both me and Andy at random times throughout the day. Or her offers to share half chewed, soggy string cheese after she's rubbed it around on the high chair tray, her hair and the kitchen wall behind her (gross, but still sweet!). Or how she randomly busts a move when there's no music playing - she must have some rockin' tunes stuck in that little brain of hers.

So yes, Anna can dose out the Attitude (with a capital A) in hefty doses, but she has a sweet side too, one that I'm hoping doesn't disappear as she continues to explore her independence.

Sunday, August 30, 2009


It was a year and one month ago today...

Bladder and lungs - crushed.
Ankles - swollen.
Belly - too huge to move.
Crabby, exhausted and excited out of my mind, the bargaining had begun. "OK, baby, if you'll just come out today, I promise I'll get you a nice teddy bear, swing set, pony, amusement park, private jet, anything just come out NOW!"

Babies don't listen.

As it turns out, they don't listen once they're out either. In fact, I think she listens even less now than a year ago when my biggest trouble with her was her tendency to get hiccups every morning at 3:30 a.m. Now, when I know she at least understands me well enough to give me and her daddy kisses when I ask her to or to go find her ball in a bin of toys, for some reason phrases like "don't put that in your mouth," "don't body slam the cat," and "stop digging in my belly button" seem to slide right back out of her ears.

What? Never imagined saying "stop digging in my belly button" to another human being? Yeah, me neither.

As much as I make fun, being a parent has been the most challenging and rewarding experience of my life. I feel like I was cut out for motherhood. I've learned that, while I may turn into a Super-B, I can still (just barely) function on 3 hours of sleep per night. I've also learned that no one tells you when you go to work with smeared, soggy cheerios stuck to the back of your shirt (perhaps a friendly gesture, or I'm being quietly laughed at!). And I've learned that no matter what my agenda, hers takes precedence and FREQUENTLY does not match mine. Scratch that, it NEVER matches mine.

As she's only a year old, I'm positive I have much more to learn, but this first year has taught me how to roll with the punches that parenthood throws at you. It has also taught me to cherish every moment of sleep that I'm able to scrounge up for myself because nights without the rousing squawks from the next room are few and far between.