Dahter=Water

Getting Annie to drink milk is a struggle. She's not a big fan and we manage to get about 10 oz a day in her. But we waste probably 15 oz a day to get the 10 oz. I feel like I am a shill for the milk producers of America. I am sure that's a thing. I am constantly pushing milk on her. She wants "bites", I offer milk. She wants a pop-pop, I offer milk. I am starting to even annoy myself, so it's no surprise she's fed up with it as evidenced by this exchange after nap yesterday:

Annie: Dahter?
Me: How about some milk?
Annie: Dahter!
Me: Milk sounds good!
Annie: Daaahter....
Me: Let's get milk!
Annie then places her hand on the side of my face and turns me so we are eye to eye
Annie: No. Dah. TER

Water: 1 Milk: 0

20 Months

Dear Annie,

These months keep slipping by. I am ashamed to say that even yesterday, on your actual 20 month birthday, I had to stop and think about how old you were/are. I am really looking forward to being able to just say, "She's two", without having to stop and do some mental math that comes across to the asker like I don't know how old my child is. But then, when you are two....you will be TWO? And how can that be? I remember seeing two year olds when you were born and they seemed so BIG. And you are both so big and so very little.

You had your first introduction to a play group yesterday. I think I was more nervous for me than for you. Everyone loves you. You love everyone. Except for that little girl that tried to steal your goldfish crackers. You smacked her on the head with your plastic cup. It was more a warning shot than anything, but faced with all the other parents in the room I responded appropriately with the "No hitting, Annie!". I noticed no one told that little girl not to steal food....

It was a fascinating glimpse of your personality. You would walk up to any child playing, exclaim "HIIII!" and try to play with whatever toy they had. Sometimes side by side. Sometimes taking a cup that was part of a tea set. Neither of these scearios was met with a very warm response, but you were undaunted. You climbed, you stacked, you crawled.

You did not sit and sing.

You viewed that time as a free for all on all the coveted toys that had been left unattended by those now occupied with the singing circle and you really went to town. You loved the play dough. Maybe a bit too much. When I told you that you couldn't eat it, you just kept putting it under your nose and smelling it. This made me, and any mother in view of you, very nervous as it's a quick trip from the nose to the mouth. But you were good. And even though this was homemade play dough, I'd like to keep you off the stuff as long as possible. No one wants to be the kid in the class that eats play dough.

You are on the move. You talk so much. I tried one time to count all the words you know now, but there's too many to count. And it's always increasing. You are smart and funny. You are tough and kind. You are learning "I'm sorry" and will often follow it up with a hug.

The hugs slay me.

You are a bit busier than the other girls in the play group. They mostly sat close to their mothers while the moms all chatted about vacation plans and whatever other moms talk about. I tried to get in on the conversation and give you freedom to play, but that simply was not in the cards. You wanted help up, help down, or to play "Are YOUUUU?", which is your own brand of hide and seek. While I don't want to be that Mom that hovers constantly, I also don't want to be the Mom that isn't paying attention.

So I stand and watch. You say "hep peesh" and I tell you you can do it. Sometimes I tell you how but I try not to help too much. I try to show you that you are capable on your own, but that I am here if you need me. And I realize that this is how it will be for the rest of our lives. You wanting to do something, me trying to help, trying to keep you safe, but still wanting you to learn how to do it yourself. I know you know it now, but I hope you know it forever that I am always there with you, rooting you on.

Right now night time is my favorite time. We eat dinner, play a bit, Daddy gives you a bath and I get you in your PJs. Most nights we watch a little bit of a movie, then we go brush our "eee-eees" (teeth) and then you and I go read a book or two. Or the same book two times. Then we shut off the lights and you lay your head on my chest. We say your prayers and then we are quiet. You have started placing my hand on your back to give you a little back scratch as we sit in the dark. Your arms are splayed out in a big hug with your hands around my sides. And we sit and I scratch and you don't squirm and after a few minutes you will announce that you want your bed. Twenty years from now, those moments in the dark are what I want to remember.

I love you, sweet girl.

~Mom.

This is why I don't have snacks in the house

I went on a tear on Sunday. I wanted to make Annie homemade snacks for the week instead of processed stuff. I made granola bars and fruit snacks. As a special treat I also made "thin mint" cookies.

The Ritz crackers are supposed to be fully covered but I wanted to leave a clean spot for Annie to hold and possibly avoid a huge mess.

That didn't work. She was filthy. And seemed more interested in the cracker. So no more for Annie.

Rick preferred the granola bars.

That left me.

These things are legit. And I can't stop eating them. As of this evening there are only a few left. And I have been eating them all day. I am thinking of just polishing off the batch so the agony is not dragged out.

1,000 calories in one day is better than 200 calories over five days.

How's that for some squirrelly logic?

Fearless

Annie's not afraid of much. Not dogs, not the dark, not huge slides at City Museum.

Maybe veggies, but that's more an animosity than a fear.

Proper parent-assisted sliding technique. Don't ever let them ride on your lap. Email for details.

So imagine my surprise when I overheard Annie yelling "No! NO! NOOOO!" during bath time, followed by furious splashing. I went in to check on the ruckus and Rick explained that she was afraid of the red towel lint that was in the tub. These things were tiny. The size of...well, tiny specs of towel lint.

Rick dutifully fished 2 of them out and bath time continued. But then a third was spotted. Panic. Thrashing. Splashing. Which makes it difficult to retrieve said spec of towel lint. But Ricker did it and showed it to Annie on his finger tip.

I watched as she cautiously approached his hand, and slowly reached out for the super-scary tiny wet towel lint. She delicately plucked it from his finger (hey there fine motor skills!) and inspected it for herself.

And then she ate it.

Maybe she is fearless after all.

A Trip to the Mall

With winter seemingly upon us, with the exception of those lovely 60 degree days (thanks, global warming!), we have been struggling to come up with activities for Annie. One of her favorite things seems to be playing at the mall.

But not in the mostly enclosed, rubber padded FREE play are with fun colorful structures. Oh no. That would be too easy. She enjoys playing on the metal car ridey rides on the outskirts. The ones that are half broken and sticky and smell like urine. And cost money. 3-4 quarters a pop. And the change machine is usually broken.

The good news is that she seems to finally have realized (and her father has now accepted) that she hates when the rides actually start moving. Her favorite was the big pink bus featured above. In and out. In and out.

Climb in.

And out. There are TWO ways into/out of the bus. Thank the good Lord or one might actually get bored. There is also a window. With a view of the play area.

Ultimately we decide to bail on the bus and head to the book store. We are practicing walking and her holding my hand. As the mall is not crowded I figure this is a perfect time.

I was wrong.

After recovering her after a mad dash at Build a Bear we had our first full-tilt boogie melt down.

On the floor, rolling around wailing.

I was stunned, paralyzed. I recalled every time I had ever seen a mother in this scenario and I had judged them. I had no idea what to do, but I did know I didn't want to get mad. On the outside at least. I always hear that you have to ignore a tantrum.

So that's what I did. I employed the first responder rule that you don't move an accident victim unless their location places them in more danger. And then I started to laugh at how ridiculous we must look.

There she was. On the ground in the middle of the mall, snot and tears flowing. With her maniac Mom standing over her, laughing.

After a short time she got up and we headed to the book store to use the free train table. And look at some books. It's like the library but the books are clean.

class="mobile-photo">

So if you ever see a Mom standing over a wailing child in the middle of the mall, please don't judge her. Smile and nod and maybe give her a hand if she needs it. And give her any spare quarters if you have them.

You are doing it wrong

You always hear people say "kids don't come with a manual". And to this I say:

WHY THE EFF NOT?????

I understand every kid is different and yadayada, but they all go through similar things for the most part. They all have to start eating solid foods, they all have to poop on the potty (unless you are in a third world country), they all have to learn to sleep through the night eventually.

And hey, if your kid isn't a bona fide binkie addict or you live in a country without running water, then skip the chapters on the Binkie Fairy or potty training. Problem solved. If one of you could get on this, I would greatly appreciate it.

Annie is VERY interested in the potty. I originally took this as a sign she was ready to start potty training, so we rushed out and got her a potty that she could mount on her own. We have a special seat on the toilet, but it's high up and cold and usually results in her running her fingers around the interior of the seat. Soooo, since I am not currently in the market for a bout with e coli....kiddie potty it is.

And she was excited about it at first. She would run around saying "Dotty" and "poop" and we would take her diaper off and sit on the Dotty/potty.

And she would get up.

So we would give her a book.

And she would still get up. But her pants would be around her ankles and she would shuffle out of the bathroom and eventually fall, and demand her pants be taken off.

So the pants come off.

And then she realizes that she would really be comfortable without that pesky shirt on and starts pulling and yelling "OFF!" to the shirt. Everyone knows you need to really be free of all clothing to do your business properly. No?

So the shirt comes off.

And back on the Dotty she goes. But now she's so excited because she's naked and it's not even bath time, so she's up and running around the house with two very anxious parents in tow, with towels at the ready for will surely be an epic accident.

Efforts are made to corral back to the Dotty but, hell, that thing is so 74 seconds ago. She wants to roll on the carpet in the buff and crawl in your freshly washed sheets, daring you to remove her as she will surely leak something out in the extraction-inspired tantrum.

And so it goes. And we convince ourselves that it's probably too early for all of this and we should just table the issue for later.

Until she wakes up the next morning screaming for the Dotty again.

So if 25 years from now you see a 26 year old woman stripped nude in a bathroom stall flipping through the latest Baby Night-Night, just remember it's all because her Mom didn't have that manual.

19 months and Change

Dear Annie,

The holidays buzzed by with barely an acknowledgement that you are another month older. How is it possible that you will be TWO in five months? You are becoming such a big girl and it makes my mom heart ache. You were an absolute joy over the holidays and everyone really seemed to enjoy spending time with you. And not just in that "hey, cute kid, now back to the party" kind of way.

You seem to change daily. You know so many words and will repeat just about anything we say to you now. You have become a bit more picky eater, but I think that is directly correlated to the volume of snacking going on. Yesterday you had no snack and were clearly hungry by the time dinner rolled around. Your efforts to climb into your high chair whilst screaming "EAT" and "BITES" were pretty subtle clues to your hunger, but I picked up on it. Needless to say, you scarfed down your meal like it was your job. So maybe we will ease up on the snacking a bit to see how that changes your appetite. I will do my best not to starve you...

Though I don't think starvations is a current concern. At the last doctor's visit, you were 34 inches tall and 28 pounds, which are the 96th and 95th percentiles, respectively. You have a perfect little toddler body, that is now sporting mostly 2T clothing. Your shoe size is around a 6.5, depending on the shoes.

And let's chat about your shoes. I think you have about 8 pairs in the rotation, currently. And you ONLY want to wear the ones that sparkle. Preferrably a sparkly flat. That's my girl. And God help us all when we want to put you in something sensible for winter like a boot. There are proclamations of "all done!" and "no no no" the whole time. I have recently taken to distraction during the shoe selection process. Once they are on, you are usually ok with it.

You love bath time where you and your Dad compromise the integrity of our floors with your splashing. You took swim lessons and were a dream. You have recently started spinning in place, which then leads to some precarious situations. You are still very tough and rarely cry from anything, much less a pesky bump. I will address our only major brush with injury in a separate post.

I see flashes of both your Dad and me in you. Your ability to work an iPhone and navigate our stereo receiver is 100% Dad. Your ability to memorize the words to songs is all me. Your constant motion and energy is all Rick. Your need for quiet time every once in a while is from your Mom.

You didn't have a lot of interest in books in the beginning, but we are all about the books now. It's a relationship that's 50% about removal/stacking from the bookshelves and the other 50% is actually reading them.

The other day I came in to get you from your nap. You still seemed tired and looked at me and said Book! Light!

So I handed you some books and your night light and you "read" to yourself for another 20 minutes or so. The night lights were used as you made it very clear you did not want the overhead lights on.

There is so much I want to remember from this stage. I want to remember how each night you direct me to "chair" and "sit" so you and I can snuggle and read a book. I want to remember the weight of your little self pressing into me, trying to get as close as possible and how if you are cold you tuck your fists under my neck. I want to remember how you put your hands on my shoulder and tap your index finger and how this is how I know when you are getting sleepy. I want to remember how Bunny/Whammy goes EVERYWHERE with us and how you rub the tag on your cheek when you get tired. I want to remember the sound of your voice saying "uppeesh" (up please) no fewer than 1,750 times a day, in your constant efforts to get us where you want us to go. I want to remember how you try to do my hair and the feel of your little hands patting strands into place (I will try to forget yesterday when things got a little aggressive and Dad had to physically pry you off of me and I might need hair plugs as a result). I want to remember how you point to things and say "Dis?" every time you want to know the name of something. I want to remember how you always want down from being held to "walk" but you very very rarely walk anywhere. I want to remember the sound of you "tokyo drifting" around the corners in our house as you race to play "where are you?" (or just "are YOOOOU?") with us. I want to remember that you don't really care much for sweets but would eat pretzels and goldfish 24/7 if we let you. I want to remember the feel of your sticky little hands on the side of my face as we work on being gentle with things. I want to remember how you love your choo-choos as much as your princesses and baby dolls.

I want to remember it all.

I love you, sweet girl,

Mom