Baby Fight Club

Here's our little bruiser...literally.

I'd tell you how she got so banged up, but what happens in Baby Fight Club
stays in Baby Fight Club.

Ok, not really, here's the deal:
It was a rough weekend for poor little P. She crawled straight into Mommy's elbow (as Mommy was pulling her arm back) on Saturday morning and got her first black eye. To complete the look, she dove head first into Reese's head board on Sunday morning and garnered the scratch across her nose. I see emergency room visits in our future for this one.

Bowheads

By the time Reese was nearly one she had just enough hair to wear some small bows and hair clips. Nothing outlandish, just something to identify her as a girl when not clad in all-pink. Paige's hair is growing in much more slowly but will potentially be much thicker and darker than Reese's. Alas, there's still no where to perch a bow...until I saw this.



They were free, and yes they are ridiculous, but the girls can't get enough. I am clearly loosing my mind and sense of style.

Music Woes

Growing up, the radio was always under my parents' control. I distinctly remember driving from New Jersey to California (en route to our new home in Sacramento) and listening to the soundtrack from Les Miserable (Mom's choice) alternated with snip-its of any station that played CCR or Genesis my dad could get find good reception on.

Now that I'm driving two young children around, I realize my music "choices" are changing thanks to my back-seat companions.

I've got plenty of "toddler tunes" that I accrued during my years teaching. I've even made CDs of my favorites. But let's be honest--as fun as those songs may be, listening to Dr Jean or even Joe McDermott on constant loop will drive any adult crazy eventually. I'd like to be in touch with what current music sounds like, even if I decide that I hate it.

Now that Reese is a fluent and opinionated speaker, listening to the radio in the car is getting trickier. I know better than to tune into certain morning shows on our drive to school, and any station claiming to play "all the hits" is definitely too racy for a toddler who loves to ask "why?"

A few weeks ago while tuned into a station that supposedly plays a "mix" of todays hits and blah, blah, blah, insert decade here, Reese heard a recently popular song. The artist is singing about his desire to be lazy for a day (know which one I'm talking about?) and includes a lyric about having his hand in his pants (ala Al Bundy style) "Mommy, why does he have his hand in his pants?" was quickly followed by "What's a birthday suit?" I couldn't change the channel quickly enough.

Just another change that comes with parenthood--diminishing control of your own taste in music. So please don't judge when you see me rockin' the local radio station that spells magic with a j or see me glassy-eyed from the ten millionth round of Old McDonald. I cringe at the idea that Kidz Bop or Disney Radio might be in my near future. I think we'll be switching to Vivadi, Miles Davis, and books on tape soon.

Say What?!? At Whole Foods

Last week Social Living was running a deal for half priced groceries at Whole Foods. (More specifically $10 for $20 worth of groceries.) Since I ambitiously planned macadamia crusted halibut for dinner on Thursday night, I bought the voucher and was looking forward to scoring some half priced fish. By the way, macadamia crusted halibut with a pineapple chutney sounds delicious, but my attempt was highly disappointing, and after my Whole Foods experience I may never try it again.

My original plan was to hit Whole Foods with Paige on Thursday morning while Reese was at school. Unfortunately, I ended up spending my entire morning at the pediatrician and pharmacy with Paige instead. No big deal, Whole Foods became our post-nap excursion. I figured: there are tons of cool fruits and veggies we don't usually see, samples to taste, and a pumpkin display outside, this will be a fun trip!

Let me be clear, my children were perfectly behaved during this trip to Whole Foods. Paige rode in the cart and watched the world go by while barely uttering a sound. Reese rode in the large part of the cart, ate lentils as a sample, threw her trash away promptly, and was amazingly cooperative. Which makes my story even more frustrating and bizarre.

After sampling the aforementioned lentils we were approached by an elderly woman. She was dressed in a beautiful red linen shirt, had perfectly straight shoulder length white hair, and (oddly) was wearing her sunglasses indoors. When we rounded the corner she pulled her cart up next to mine and started cooing over the girls.

This is not strange behavior in itself--most times I take both girls somewhere people approach us and ask strange and forward questions: "How old are your girls?" is quickly followed by "How much do they weigh?" "What hospital were they born at?" I thought I had left the realm of strange encounters after the belly-molesting that comes with pregnancy, turns out it was only training.

Back to the lovely lady in the bulk foods aisle: She began by saying, "Oh my, your girls are so tiny. They are just like my grand daughters! My youngest is 2 and barely weighs 23lbs." Yes, I confirmed both of my girls are petite and always have been.

She continues, "They don't watch much TV do they?"
Umm...where is this going?
"No," I say, "I try to limit what they watch and how often."
"Oh, I can tell they are smart and don't watch too much TV because they look at me when I'm talking." Wow, what a nice observation. She then leans over and asks Reese if she watches TV.

Reese went into immediate stranger-danger-silent mode and stared her down. I interjected and said, "Reese really enjoys Sesame Street." The woman recoiled slightly at my response.
"Oh, I remember when that came on. I didn't let my kids watch it. Those characters are so sassy, particularly that Cookie Monster. Hmpf." And she walked off. I was a little stunned. Did I just get criticized for letting my kid watch Sesame Street? That educational puppet show on (gasp) PBS?! Bizarre. I move on.

Before hitting up the check out, we went trough the beer and wine section of the store so I could pick up a bottle of wine. When I put it in the cart Reese asked, "Mommy, what's that for?" I replied, "It's a bottle of wine I'm taking to Caroline's house tonight. I'm going over to her house after you go to sleep." Reese was perfectly content with my response. As I was rounding the corner heading to the check out aisle a woman waving a box of muffins approached me. She was old enough to be my mother, dressed in a coral and white blouse, unmarried (or at least wasn't wearing a ring), and I'd like to imagine that she doesn't have children--for their sake. "Can I ask you something?" she began. Assuming she wanted help reading the ingredient list ("Is this gluten free?" or something like that), I slowed my cart, smiled and said, "sure." She took a deep breath and right then I should have known where things were headed.
"Why did you tell your daughter that?"
What is she talking about? Should I just assume that she's been eavesdropping? "Excuse me?" I respond.
"Well, I just don't understand why you told your daughter you are leaving after she's in bed. I mean, she'll be in bed, why does she need to know?"
Red flags should have been waving, and when I replay this situation in my head Ally-McBeal-style, this is when I promptly tell her off and walk away. Instead, I answer, "I want her to know I'm leaving so that if she gets up and needs something she won't be surprised and upset that I'm gone."
Apparently this wasn't what she was looking for, "No, no, you're not understanding, " she continues, "Now she'll be upset no matter what because you've implanted the idea of your absence in her head."
Again, this is when a sane person would have let the curse words (or at least a tall finger) do their talking. I can only figure that shock kept me planted in my place.
Before even waiting for a response, she grabbed the edge of my cart and continued to explain the flaws in my parenting, "Kids don't need to know everything" was followed by the story of how she is convinced her niece's car sickness was caused by her brother's reminders to try to look out the front window and not to get sick. Eventually my shock and stupor subsided and through gritted teeth I told her "We do what works best for us, thanks."

After that experience I needed some time to clear my head so I made another loop around the nearby aisle and ran into my friend in the red blouse again.

Instead of shunning me and my Sesame Street junkie kids, she actually approached us AGAIN. I'm not kidding, I couldn't make this up if I tried.

Maybe she feared for my children's souls, because this time she began by asking me, "Do you, by any chance, own the Children's Picture Bible written by So-And-So?" (I forgot the name). Still a little shaken up from the psycho-analysis my muffin-toting friend I was probably a little short with her. "No we don't."

I could have told her we were Jewish, Muslim, or Baha'i, but at the time nothing but the truth occurred to me. She went on to tell me about what a wonderful book it was and that I should get it for my children. It was a nice sentiment, to be sure, but when I didn't gush about the opportunity to own this book and instead replied with, "Uh-huh, ok, thanks" she looked right at me, shook her head and with a quick, "Well-I-never!" stalked off again.

By the time I made it to my car I was literally vibrating with rage. Looking back it's funny: two old busy-bodies buying organic prunes and doling out child rearing advice. I've already got my comebacks lined up for my next encounter, so bring it on ladies.

Linguistics

Part of living in a university town is subjecting your children to experiments by grad students...or so I think. So, when I got a letter from UT's department of linguistics asking for toddler-aged volunteers I took them up on the opportunity to get out of the house and show the girls campus.

The researchers bent over backward to find a time to accommodate our eating and napping schedule, and best of all--I got to park on campus. Anyone who's familiar with UT will likely avail you with horrendous stories of parking, trying to find parking (usually by driving 5mph while following someone to the spot they're about to vacate), getting your car booted, or having your car towed. So, when I received a parking permit in the mail that allowed me to park in front of the tower I was ecstatic. I was waved right in by guards at the security booths, and made my way to Inner Campus Drive. And, yes, I immediately noticed that college students seem to be getting younger every year. Nothing like toting your two small children onto campus to make you feel old.

I won't give away too much about the study, but let's just say that I think Reese succeeded in providing a data point they will likely eliminate.

After twenty minutes of coaxing her into actually speaking (where does this shyness come from?), she participated in the study but didn't exactly perform as expected. Let's just say nonsense words are not her thing ("It wasn't a gorp, Mommy, it was a koozie with a ball attached"), and that the "hidden" camera was immediately obvious to her. She even asked me later if we could watch her video sometime. I played dumb until she explained to me that she saw the camera mounted near the ceiling.

Afterward, she was rewarded with a book and we had a lovely picnic on the main mall where Reese ran around and listened to the tower chime.

I'm hoping that it will cool off sometime this year and we'll be able to take them down during a home football game to experience campus in all it's rowdy-glory, but man will I miss that parking pass.

Almost One? How Did That Happen?

Everyone who has had kid grow up and move away will tell you that kids grow up so fast. One day they're sleeping in your arms, the next thing you know you're handing them keys to the car. Seriously, I hear this no less than five times a week from patrons at the grocery store. When I looked at the calendar and realized that we're less than a month from Paige's first birthday, I understood the phenomenon for the first time. While she's no where close to getting a hold of my car keys, how did this year pass us by so quickly?

In the last few weeks Paige's skills are really starting to blossom and she's quickly becoming more toddler-esque. Her movement and play is so much more intentional than a month ago, and her receptive vocabulary is already growing daily.

* Paige waves, high fives, gives kisses, says "hooray," shakes her head no (which she thinks is hilarious), dances to music CONSTANTLY, tries to stack blocks, feeds baby dolls from bottles, and will mimic just about anything she thinks is worth trying.

* The only way to keep Paige on the changing table is to sing to her. Her favorite songs are "If You're Happy and You Know It," "The Wheels on the Bus," and "Patty-Cake." She participates in all the actions and generally stays still long enough to change her diaper.

* We're entering the dreaded two nap-to-one nap transition. 9AM is greeted with yawns, but she's starting to protest her morning nap more often than not.

* No walking yet--just lots of cruising. although she did stand up several times by herself this week.

* The cold that Paige and Reese shared a month ago still wasn't gone this week so I took Paige in to the doctor. Turns out she had a sinus infection and ear infection. Four days of the pink stuff down, six more to go. (On a side note, at her doctor's appointment, we discovered she is already weighs more than Reese did at her one year appointment--it's making the hand-me down thing go pretty smoothly.)

The Boys of Summer

Reese and Paige hanging out at the pool(s) with their boy friends.

First Day of School

Last week, Reese started her second year of Mother's Day out. She now goes to school three mornings a week. (Tue, Wed, Thur) Getting her ready and out the door was much smoother than last year and she eased right back into the routine.