Weekly Smithkids - Weeks 154 and 155 and Weeks 6 and 7

Merry Christmas from Team Smith! I hope you and yours had a joyful day.

Charlie Bear's first Christmas!

The $1 jump rope in Natalie's stocking proved to be the best present.
Girlfriend NEVER tired of trying to clear the rope.
(Note: she was only successful once, but kept a smile the whole time)

Puzzle time with Bob

I love him too

Not purposeful (yet), but still so sweet

Natalie was playing the Charlie guitar :)

Weekly Smithkids - Week 153 and Week 5

Cookie Decorating Time at the Smith house

You might need to see the dentist after looking at this picture

How Charlie spent Cookie Decorating Time. Lazy.

Month 1 - Recap

Hooray! We all survived your first month! (Not that there was any doubt, but still, it's nice to survive something as world-changing as a new baby).

I'm going to try really hard not to spend your recaps comparing you to your sister. Not that I would ever (consciously) do that in a negative light (NATALIE did this when she was a baby; why aren't YOU?), but I want you to have your own recap, with your own (embarrassing) stories. You've got a little grace period, however, because newborns hardly ever do anything embarrassing (... besides peeing on your shoulder. You did that, by the way. Daddy and I may or may not have laughed.)

Here are my observations thus far:
You love being swaddled, you love your bassinet, and you love being outside. You don't like laying flat, so I'm wondering how moving you to your crib in your room will pan out. You are the sneeziest, snore-iest, snortiest, and hiccup-iest baby I've ever seen. You typically sneeze in triplicate and get the hiccups no fewer than twice a day. I think part of your sneeziness and snortiness might be due to your swollen nasal cavities. At your two-week checkup, Daddy and I mentioned how your nostrils seem small. She agreed and said they looked pretty swollen. We've started using nose drops on you in the hopes it'll open your nose up a bit. You eat a LOT. I'm not fighting it, because I don't think putting a one-month old on a feeding schedule is any kind of possible. But I'm hoping in the next month or so, you'll learn to be more efficient with your nursing. I try not to let you go more than 2 hours in between feedings during the day, trying to fill you up so that you'll sleep well at night. It doesn't work. You're like a teenager - you sleep all day and party all night. I feed you between 9 and 10pm and you can usually make it until 12:00am or 1am. That's your 'long' stretch. Har. After that feeding, however, it's anybody's guess as to when you'll be hungry again. Sometimes it's 2am. Other times it's 4am. (Side note: I know you don't know how to tell time, but 4am is waaaaay better).

You have reflux. Not even a hundredth of the degree that Natalie had (in other words, I'm not covered in baby vomit 24/7), but you seem to be in pain after every feeding. I'm hoping

Zantac will help reduce the time each nursing session takes (nursing + burping), because an hour is a wee much. Just a wee.

Your Daddy rocks (hopefully you're well aware of this when you actually read this). After your last feeding at night, I go to sleep in our bed while Daddy sleeps on the floor in your room. He does a great job at trying to get you to go a long stretch before your next feeding. He'll rock you, he'll turn on the hair dryer (side note: you're really comforted by the sound of the hair dryer), he'll put you in the swing, he'll do whatever he can think of just so I can get at least 3 or 3.5 hours of sleep in a row. See? He rocks. After the next feeding, Daddy goes back to our bed and I sleep on the floor in your room. Wearing earplugs. Because on my GOSH, you're so noisy. (I know I could sleep in my own room and just go get you when you start to fuss, but you sleep so lightly at night that you wake up a lot. So if I'm only inches from your basinet, I can stay half-asleep while I rock you. And I know I could sleep in my own room and move you to our room so that I'd still only be inches from your bassinet, but I want Daddy to get a long stretch of uninterrupted sleep since he has to go to work in the morning.) Hey, I've got an idea. Why don't you just start sleeping 5 hours at night consistently. Then Daddy and I can sleep in the same bed and neither one of us has to sleep on the floor. Sound good? Good.

Instead of having your 2-week growth spurt in one or two days, you dragged it out for over a week. Survey says? NOT cool. I'd much prefer a rough 24-36 hr stretch instead of a rough 5-hr stretch every day for 9 days. Perhaps you could change your method for your 6-week growth spurt. I'd hate to have to return you to Baptist Hospital for being defective. I'll find the receipt, trust me.

I know you're a boy and you won't want to read something like this about your mom when you're older, but it must be said. So I'll just put three words. Mastitis. Thrush. OhmygoshohmygoshohmyGOSHpain.

Your head gets patted a lot by Natalie - it's her favorite thing to do with you. I'm not sure if she thinks a genie will pop out of your head or what, but your head is never lonely. It's actually pretty adorable and you don't seem to mind at all, so it's a win-win situation. She's a pretty great big sister - she's only yelled at you twice to stop crying. I had to politely remind her that yelling at you doesn't do any good. If it had worked, though, I might have given her $5. But, alas, it didn't.

I seriously can't wait for your first purposeful smile. You do a lot of milk-coma-smiles, and if your actual smile is even a tenth of the cuteness of your milk-coma one, I might, in fact, have a tiny heart attack. Your dimples are simply delicious. As are your feet. And your neck. And your belly. I thank God so often for you. You're simply magnificient, my sweet Charlie Bear.

Hugs and smooches,
Mommy & Daddy


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Headlines for December 9, 2011

• Secret Santas pay strangers’ layaway bills at Kmart
• Injured model sees face after propeller injury
• Police: Virginia Tech gunman acted alone
• Romney Hints at Gingrich Face-Off
• Osama Bin Laden's Wives to Go Free

Weekly Smithkids - Week 152 and Week 4

Charlie is fairly allergic to sleeping flat on his back,
so this is a rare shotMy Nataroo, one month before she turns the big 0-3

Weekly Smithkids - Weeks 148-151 and Week 3

As if I was bad enough trying to get a weekly recap for Natalie done on time, I'm now combining Natalie's and Charlie's weekly recap into one recap. Hopefully their recaps will be done more than quarterly ...

Me and my baby boy

The new 4-membered Team Smith

Holding 'Baby Chaw-yee'

Charlie Bear!

Feeding Charlie some ketchup - such a good big sister

All dressed up for Thanksgiving!

Smooches :D

He gets a little lazy during Tummy Time

Super duper cheeseball

November 2011 - Recap

My dear sweet Big Sister o' Charlie Bear,
You're all about schedules. You like to know what we're doing each day, and in what order we're doing them. Sometimes I show you a picture schedule; lately, though, I just tick things off on my fingers. Well you, my little master negotiator, have started ticking things on YOUR fingers to change the schedule. Case in point:

Me: Nat, it's time for a bath.
You: What's after bath? (actually it's more like WAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH! I don't WANT to take a bath!!! *continued wailing and gnashing of teeth for 10 minutes* THEN you ask what's going to happen after the bath)
Me: (ticking off on my fingers) Take a bath, put on jammies, brush your teeth, read a story, go to sleep.
You: (ticking off on YOUR fingers) Pway (play), bath, jammies, book, seep. We pway first and I don't need to bwush my teeth.
Me: (glaring at Daddy because he's practically falling off the couch from laughing so hard at the exchange between us)

Your life is one big musical, with "Jesus Loves Me" as your theme song. Seriously, if there's a millisecond of quiet, you immediately fill it with song. I don't know if you're uncomfortable with silence or if you think Daddy and I are uncomfortable with silence, but it's like you feel every waking second of the day needs to be filled with talking, singing, or some other noise. Case in point, let's revisit the above scenario.

Me: Nat, it's time for a bath.
You: What's after bath? (actually it's more like WAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH! I don't WANT to take a bath!!! *continued wailing and gnashing of teeth for 10 minutes* THEN you ask what's going to happen after the bath)
Me: (ticking off on my fingers) Take a bath, put on jammies, brush your teeth, read a story, go to sleep.
You: (ticking off on YOUR fingers) Pway (play), bath, jammies, book, seep. We pway first and I don't need to bwush my teeth.
Me: (glaring at Daddy because he's practically falling off the couch from laughing so hard at the exchange between us)
Me: Come on kid, scoot it to the bathtub.
You: (as you're walking to the bathroom) WAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH! (cue tears, gnashing teeth, and general discontent)
(2 nanoseconds later)
You: JESUS YUHVES ME! DIS I KNOW! FOR DA BIBLE TELLS ME SO!
(2 nanoseconds later)
You: (remembering that you're mad about taking a bath) WAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!
(2 nanoseconds later)
You: YITTLE ONES TO HIM BEYONG. DEY ARE WEAK BUT HE IS STWONG!
Me: (my head explodes trying to keep up with whether you're about to be mad or prepare for an encore)

Speaking of Jesus Loves Me, you like to change the lyrics to that song. Perhaps Daddy and I (mainly me, cuz I'm probably nerdier than Daddy) use too many grown-up words with you, but something I often say to you (like when you're in the middle of one of your AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH! fits) is "Natalie, your attitude is completely unacceptable. Please act like a big girl." Well you, my little Creative License-r, decided to sing "DIS is unacceptaBLE! Dis is UNacceptable! DIS is unacceptaBLE! DIS IS UNACCEPTABLE", all sung to the tune of Jesus Loves Me. Mmmmm, this humble pie sure is tasty.

You like to sing the blessing before we eat - it's the song you sing before lunch at Mother's Day Out every Tuesday. It's ridiculously adorable. There's a part that goes "We will ask your blessing", but with your awesome lack of L-pronounciation, it sounds like "We will ask your be-yessing".


I almost feel like I've run out of things to teach you. I've actually felt this way for almost a year now. You picked up on shapes, colors, letters, and numbers so quickly that I'm not sure what's next. Algebra? The Dewey Decimal System? The 50 states in alphabetical order? I've been floundering for a while and then I remembered some advice from a friend who said to teach you my phone number and Daddy's phone number. Well it took a grand total of 30 minutes before you could easily repeat our phone numbers. The speed with which you can memorize something absolute floors me. You also know how to spell your whole name. Again with the flooring of your mother.

The biggest news this month is that you became a big sister. Wait, I take that back. You like to remind me that you've already BEEN a big sister for the past 9 months. (Excellent point, kid). I'll rephrase: This month, you became a big sister to someone who doesn't live in Mommy's belly anymore. You've done remarkably well for having your world turned on its ear. You're a great big sister to "Baby Chaw-yee". You like to tell Charlie 'good morning' when you come into the living room each morning, you like to point out his tiny features (specifically his fingers and nose), and you like to show him your books, toys, and stuffed animals. You also like to to tickle him - and you're totally impressed when he responds to your tickling (even if his response is just a snort or a wiggle). You don't like it when he cries, but Daddy and I try to remind you that Charlie doesn't know how to say "I'm hungry" or "I'm tired"; all he knows how to do is cry. Sometimes, though, when he cries, instead of getting panicky, you come up to his bassinet and say "It's okay, buddy! Don't cwy!" You're a great helper - you ask to throw his diaper away, you bring him a stuffed animal when he cries, you boop his nose when you feel it needs booping (which is often). Periodically throughout the day, you like to come up to Charlie, give his soft head a little rub, then continue on to your destination. Daddy and I are so SO proud of you. Seeing you with Charlie, interacting with him in your own perfect and unique way, makes our hearts so happy. You are the perfect big sister for Charlie.

This past month, you seem to have grown and aged by leaps and bounds. I was told by many people that as soon as Charlie arrived, you'd seem bigger to me. It sounded silly, but dude, it's so TRUE. You seem so ... grown up. Your hands seem particularly ginormous. Big kid hands. Hands that were the exact same size on November 8th, but somehow, on November 9th (actually November 10th, since that's when I first saw you after Charlie was born), your hands seemed like they belonged on a 2nd grader. I stopped picking you up when I was probably 7 months pregnant, so the first time I picked you up after Charlie was born, I was all "DUDE! When did you get so HEAVY!?" You were all "DUDE! You keep feeding me! I'm going to GROW!" Thanks for that little reality check.

As cool as I think it would have been for Charlie to have been a girl, I'm stoked that he's a boy. The main reason I'm stoked? I can still call you my best girl. I love you more than my heart can profess; I'm proud of you more than words can describe; you will always, always be my best girl. And I will always, always consider myself immensely blessed to know and love you.

Hugs and smooches,
Mommy & Daddy


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Headlines for December 1, 2011:

• School picks blackboards over iPads
• Kanye tops Adele in Grammy nods
• World-traveling sea turtle comes home
• $13,000 stuffed in suit accidentally sent to Goodwill
  
• 97 mph! Santa Ana winds batter LA
• Sandusky Threatened Boy's Family
  

Charlie's Birth Story

I've heard that 2nd babies come quicker than 1st babies. I was in labor for 15 hours - and pushed for two - with Natalie. Needless to say, I was SO hoping you would make your debut in fewer than 15 hours. The short story of your grand entrance: boy oh BOY did you ever come quicker.

Here's the long story: 39 weeks, 1 day. I was fully in the "Everything Hurts and I Can't Sleep for Nothin'" stage of my pregnancy, and the thought that I might be pregnant for another 2.5 weeks was really discouraging. Natalie and I had a pretty typical morning - breakfast, cartoons, picking something cute and pink for her wear. We went to Baptist Hospital to visit Pep, who had been admitted the previous night for a blood pressure issue. (Side note: kudos to Bob for asking the paramedics to take Pep to Baptist, as you'll soon realize). After we left the hospital, we went home, played for a bit, had lunch, and took our naps (in case you aren't yet aware, I looooooove naps). I didn't feel great after we woke up, so Bob came over to help me wrangle Natalie until Daddy got home from work. I found it really hard to properly entertain an almost-three-year-old while being nine months pregnant, so I'm eternally thankful for Bob and Pep and their willingness to help me out with Natalie. Daddy called me before he left work and asked what kind of treat I wanted him to bring home. I initially thought ice cream, but then I decided that perhaps something spicy would be better. After all, Thai food triggered my labor with Natalie, so perhaps I could have the same luck with you (even though you weren't due for another 6 days). I asked Daddy to bring home some spring rolls (with lots and lots of sriracha) from Tu Do. As we were waiting for Daddy to come home, I noticed that I was having a lot of Braxton Hicks contractions. They didn't necessarily hurt, but they certaintly didn't feel good. I dove into the spring rolls as soon as Daddy walked in. I put waaaaaaay more sriracha than a normal person would (but being that pregnant left me feeling ANYthing but normal). I ate two spring rolls and it wasn't five minutes later before I noticed that my contractions were getting more and more intense. Just for kicks, I started timing them. They ranged anywhere from six to nine minutes apart. It was around 6pm.

I asked Daddy if we should have Bob go home and bring back an overnight bag. He said that we should just wait a bit - a few timeable contractions might not mean anything. Well it wasn't more than 45 minutes later when we realized that the contractions were getting closer together and more intense. Daddy called our midwife and explained that I had been having contractions five to six minutes apart for about an hour. We fully expected her to say something like "Okay, when they're more like three or four minutes apart, think about heading to the hospital." Instead she says "Well don't wait too long before you go to the hospital!" Bob quickly left to go home and pack a bag while Daddy finished packing our hospital bags and wrangling Natalie. Meanwhile, I had hit a level of contraction intensity that prevented me from simply breathing through them. I squirmed, I grimaced, I sounded like a humpback whale. Natalie came in a 'checked' on me a few times. She patted my back, said she was sorry I didn't feel well, then asked if I would play Pillow Fight with her. Your sister's sense of timing cracks me up.

When Bob came back to our house, I looked at Daddy and said "We've got to go to the hospital NOW." Daddy loaded up the van and helped me outside. I was unable to walk on my own; the contractions were so intense and my legs felt like Jello. We got to the hospital at 10pm. Daddy went to find a wheelchair for me and when he came back, it hit me just how scared I was. I physically couldn't get out of the van and into the wheelchair without Daddy doing 99% of the work. Everything was so different from my labor with Natalie; it really made me panic. We were whisked to the L&D floor and arrived in our room. As soon as the nurses helped me out of my wheelchair, I practically fell to the ground. The contractions were about three minutes apart and were lasting almost two minutes. The nurse checked me and said I was at 6cm. I was so relieved to hear her say that; when I got to the hospital with Natalie, I was only dilated to 2cm (despite being SURE I was dilated to 9cm). I didn't have time to bask in that relief, though, because the contractions were practically coming one on top of another. Our doula arrived and she filled up the bathtub (where I spent a lot of my labor with Natalie). The nurses brought me the birthing ball and helped me sit on it. It helped so much with my labor with Natalie that I just knew it'd help with my labor with you. Again, the vast differences in the two labors became apparent, because I couldn't find a comfortable position on the ball. Of course, I couldn't move OFF the ball because my legs had forgotten how to work, so I just stayed on it.

We learned in our birthing class that contractions typically reach their peak intensity at 30 seconds and last from 1-2 minutes. I didn't realize it at the time, but while I was on the ball, I had entered into the 'transition' phase of labor, where contractions come one on top of the other, with little-to-no break in between them. Daddy was timing my contractions, and after the two-minute mark, he said "Okay, they should start to ease up now." They didn't. They didn't at ALL. And it freaked me out.

Our midwife came in and wanted to check my progress. She told me that I needed to empty my bladder before she checked me. Daddy and our doula had to practically carry me to the bathroom (again, because of the whole legs-not-working thing). My water ended up breaking in the bathroom (so convenient) and our midwife said that I needed to get to the bed ASAP. Again, this was all happening so fast that I didn't realize what she was saying. She was essentially saying "Hey goofball, get your tail to the bed because this kid is coming." I made it back to the bed (with the help of Daddy and our doula again), got checked, and before I knew it, the nurses were putting up the squat bar and it was Go Time. The pain was so intense at this point that the nurses had to pry my arm off the bed to get me to hold on the squat bar (my legs-not-working thing also applied to my arms). I pushed once. I pushed again. And, according to Daddy, I let out a scream that sounded like someone had a knife to my throat. I remember screaming, and I remember saying to myself "Suze, shhh! Stop being so loud!" And then I said back to myself "Zip it, self. This hurts. I'll scream if I want to." I pushed a third time. And screamed again. Then our midwife told me stop pushing. She said she saw the head. Daddy thought she meant that she could see the top of your head. Nope. What she meant was that your head was out. And on my fourth push (and after only 15ish minutes), you entered the world at 11:42pm. 1 hour and 42 minutes after I got to the hospital. 5 hours and 42 minutes after my first timeable contraction. You came so quickly that Daddy didn't even get to catch you!

Your umbilical cord was wrapped around your chest and shoulders (didn't even know that was physically possible). Our midwife held you up to me and Daddy with your legs closed, then made the big reveal. There was no doubt - you, sir, are 100% boy. I giggled, looked at Daddy and said "You got your boy!" He looked so proud and so excited. (Just between you and me, he *might* have let a tear or two [or 100] fall). If there's one thing this world needs, it's a boy raised by your Daddy. He's the best and hardest working man I know, and you, baby boy, are so lucky to have him as a role model. And I consider myself the luckiest girl in the world to be his wife.

You aced your Apgar test, but you had to get tested for diabetes since you were over the threshold of a 'normal weight' for your gestational age (39 wks, 1 day). Anything above 8lbs, 3oz is considered 'big' for that age, and you topped the scales at 8lbs, 12oz. (PS: Thanks for coming when you did. Had you been born on your due date, you'd have been over 9lbs. And had you been born 6 days late like your sister, we might have had a 10 pounder).

Some funny things about the day you were born: You were the 9th baby born on the 9th; it was 75* when we got to the hospital, it was 45* when we left (Pensacola weather is confusing)

It was about 12:30am or so when our delivery room finally cleared out, and it was just you, me, and Daddy. It was pure bliss. And still pure disbelief that you were here. Even now, 6 days later, as I watch you sleep as I type, I still can't believe you're here. You're actually HERE. You, Charlie Bear, are perfection. (Not sure where 'Charlie Bear' came from. It just fell out of my mouth when we were in the hospital.) You nursed (like a rockstar, I might add) while Daddy and I chowed down on pizza and hamburgers. I know hospital food has a bad rap, but the food at Baptist Hospital ROCKS.

I was wheeled to the recovery room at about 3am. Not too long after that, there was a knock on my door. I assumed it was a nurse, but lo and behold, it was Pep! He had left his room (against medical advice, I'm sure), toting his rack of IV fluids behind him. I asked him why he wasn't asleep and he said "I got a text message from your mom at midnight saying that I had a new grandson! There's no way in the world I was going to sleep before I got to see him!" It was really sweet. On his way to my room, he stopped by the nursery and saw you and Daddy. Based on the look on his face, he more than approved of his new grandson. Pep and I talked in my room for a while, then they brought you to me. You were still adorable, still sleeping peacefully, still my boy.

Bob brought Natalie to the hospital the next day to meet you. She was a little shy at first (but that could have been that I was in a hospital bed, had an IV port in, and was wearing lots of hospital bracelets), but broke into a big grin when she saw you. She commented on how tiny your fingers were and how cute your little face was. You have no idea how lucky you are to have her as a big sister. She's got big plans for you kiddo. Plans that MIGHT involve playing Princesses or having a tea party, but plans nonetheless.

Bob and Natalie brought cupcakes to my hospital room so we could have a little birthday party for you. Natalie even sang Happy Birthday to you! The only bad part was that the birthday boy didn't get to partake in any of the cupcake festivities. You missed out, buddy. They were goooooood.

You looked just like Natalie did when she was born - chubby cheeks, several chins, button nose, long fingers and toes, and absolutely, positively, take-my-breath away adorable. Seriously, stick a pink flowered onesie on you and I could swear we were transported back to January 1, 2009. (Trust me, though, I'll never put you in a pink flowered onesie. You may be pretty, but you're a manly kind of pretty. Or something.) A big difference between yours and Natalie's appearance (besides the obvious, um, gender differences) is you have a dimple in each cheek! We didn't even notice them until our midwife pointed them out. But there they are, making your impossibly sweet cheeks even sweeter.

If you ever have more than one child, you might worry how your heart could possibly love the 2nd child as much as you love your 1st. Or if there's room enough in your heart to love another person so wholly and fiercely. Trust me, Charlie Bear, the second I saw you, it was as if my heart grew to twice its size. I immediately loved you with an unstoppable intensity and it now seems so silly that I was even worried about it.

You, baby boy, have made our family complete, our hearts full beyond measure, and our lives beyond joyful. And our laundry a little more blue.

Hugs and smooches,
Mommy & Daddy

Weekly Buzz - Week 39

Oh sweet baby, we're nearing the end of this incredible part of our relationship. As much as I love being pregnant, these past few weeks have been rough. Nothing out of the ordinary, and really, the fact that I made it till 36 weeks before I got uncomfortable is great. But I can't wait to hold you. I can't wait to munch on the toes that have, for the past month, been firmly planted in my ribs. I can't wait to find out if you're a Buzz or a Buzzette. I can't wait to introduce you to Natalie (she can't wait to meet you either!).

I had my 39-week checkup, and I'll just say that I've made progress (advertising on the Internet exactly how much progress my lady parts have made seems mildly weird). I know progress doesn't necessarily mean anything, but it was still nice to hear that we're moving in the right direction.

Feel free to NOT follow your sister's footsteps of being 6 days late. There's a full moon on Thursday. Think about it. Jus' sayin'.

Weekly Natalie - Weeks 146 & 147

Know what's cute? A little munchkin in a Dorothy costume. Know what else is cute? A little munchkin in a Garden Gnome costume. Know what's even cuter? Paying $2 for each costume.

Seriously, c'mon. Have you ever seen such sweetness?

No Flower Gnome is complete without a teeny tiny pumpkin

All hopped up on lollipop sugar

October 2011 - Recap

Okay, so the ickiest part of this month was definitely you saying "I don't yuhve you". I had no idea I'd have to deal with THAT kind of statement until you were 13 (or, even better, never, seeing as how I'm totally lovable). Daddy was quick to remind me that you're two. That even when you say "I yuhve you", you don't totally get what that means. So even though "I yuhve you" is insanely cute and adorable, you mean it as much as when you say "I don't yuhve you." But seriously, saying "I don't yuhve you" to your hormonal, 8-month-pregnant momma is not cool.

This month, you've asked if everything is either icky, scary, and/or healthy. For instance:
Me: Ooh, Bob and Pep are coming to see you this afternoon!
You: Are dey scawwy?
Me: Bob and Pep? No, they're not scary at all.
You: NO! Dat's siwwy (silly)! Dey not scawwy at all.
***
Me: We're having turkey sandwiches for lunch.
You: Are dey icky?
Me: No! Turkey sandwiches are delicious.
You: Mmm mmm! I yuhve turkey samwiches!! Dey're deyicious. Are dey healffy?
Me: Oh yes, very healthy.
You: Are dey a sometimes food? (Many thanks to Cookie Monster for introducing the notion of 'sometimes food' and 'anytime food')
Me: Nope, they're an anytime food!
You: Are chips an anytime food?
Me: Negative. Chips are a sometimes food.
You: Cuz dey not healffy, wight?
Me: Right.
You: Are tables healffy?
Me: Um, tables?
You: Yep! Tables! Are dey healffy?
Me: Well, no, cuz they're not food.
You: Oh yeah! You can't eat tables! Dat's siwwy! Is Mommy healffy?
Me: For the most part, yep. Mommy eats lots of anytime foods to stay healthy.
You: Lemme see! (You then proceed to "bite" me to see if I'm tasty and healthy)

Have I mentioned how you're often very polite in your outright disobedience??
Me: Natalie, please take your table and chair back to the dining room.
You: No sank you, Mommy.
Me: Hmm. I'm pretty sure there wasn't a question in that statement.
You: *giggles* You funny, Mommy.
***
Me: Okay, kiddo, it's time to leave the park and go to the grocery store. Let's head toward the van.
You: No sanks, Mommy. I just stay here. You have fun at da gwocery store and I just stay here.
Me: I appreciate your politeness. But move your booty. Now.

There's a new frozen yogurt place by our house. First off, they have amazing frozen yogurt. Second, they have the best toppings (fresh fruit, crushed candy bars, cereal, cheesecake, cookie dough, etc). Third, they have a ping pong table. You are most interested in the ping pong table. We took my parents there one day, and Pep saw how enamored you were with throwing ping pong balls that the next time they came over to our house, Pep brought you two ping pong paddles and two boxes of balls. You were in hog heaven! Your latest favorite game is to sit in the kitchen, dump out all the ping pong balls, and whack them around with your paddle. This is a win-win for both of us. You get to play with ping pong balls and I can rest assured that despite how many balls are in my kitchen, they're not messy, they won't break anything, and they keep you gloriously occupied for at least 2 minutes.

Sesame Street has introduced you to rhyming. And you are now a Rhyming Machine! Of course, you don't quite understand the concept that while "dommy" might RHYME with "Mommy", it's not actually a word. And you get really annoyed when you ask me "What word wymes wiff _____?" and _____ happens to not have a word that rhymes with it. Case in point: "Mommy, what wymes wiff 'wefwigewator'?" Or you'll ask me "What word wymes wiff ____?" and ____ happens to not even BE a word. Case in point: "Mommy, what wymes wiff 'basketballhoopgoal?" Yep, you read that right. Basketballhoopgoal.

You picked up on the concept of opposites in record time. Like nanoseconds. One of your books has a picture of a big kid and a little kid. I explained how 'big' and 'little' were opposites. You immediately asked what other words were opposites. I said that 'loud' and 'quiet' were opposites. And when I said 'tall', you immediately chimed in with 'short'. SO cool. The only problem, as with the rhyming delimma I described above, is when you ask "What's the opposite of ____?" and _____ has no opposite. Like 'cookie'. Or 'basketballhoopgoal'.

Daddy has started something with you we like to call a Racecar Kiss. He'll scoop you up and give you a humongous kiss on the cheek, all the while making the sounds of a revving and shifting racecar. You think it's the funniest thing in the world. And when he's done, you squeal "Dat was a wacecar to da moon!" No idea where you came up with that phrase, but it's painfully sweet.

One of your Let's Delay Bedtime for as Long as I Can tactics is to look around your room and insist that you can't go to sleep without it. Which is why you currently have approximately 249 things in your bed with you. This list is not exhaustive, but includes three baby dolls (one of which was mine when I was your age); two stuffed critters you won from the claw machine at CiCi's (one of which is beYOND creepy looking); three animal finger puppets; a pretend potato chip from your kitchen; a remote control; an Elmo slipper (just one; you left the other one on the floor); a toy teapot; a stuffed Aflac duck that screeches "AFLAC!!!" when you press its rear end; your favorite stuffed bear (that you've named Lauren Bear); Minnie Mouse; Pooh Bear; Clifford; a prairie dog; Larry the Cucumber (from Veggie Tales); your bumblebee Pillow Pet (that you've named Buzz Buzz); one of those toys that you slam on the ground to get him to talk (in this case, it's an angry golfer who says lovely things like "I hate this sport!"); a plastic Easter egg; several animals from your Animal Bowling game; a wooden airplane; a plastic fork. It's impressive how there's still room for you in your bed.

Speaking of your bed, you've been insistent that you have a book with you (or, preferably, 5 books) before you go to sleep. I think it's so cute (and nerdy) that you want to 'read' before bed. And what I love even more is that you're doing SO well in your big girl bed. Sometimes you get up in the middle of the night, but you're so easy to put back down that I don't even mind doing it. Most of the time, though, we put you to bed, you sing and read for anywhere from 10 minutes to 2 hours, then you go to sleep. No fuss (or at least minimal fussing), no nothing. It's glorious.

You've learned new songs at church, MOPS, and Mothers' Day Out, and I LOVE hearing you walk around the house singing them. For instance, right now, you're supposed to be sleeping. Instead, you're flipping through a book singing "My God is so big, so stwong and so mighty, dere's nossing my God cannot do!". Should you be sleeping? Absolutely. Am I going to go tell you to stop singing and go to sleep? Not on your life. Sing away, my sweet love.

So this is your last month as an only child. This is last recap I'll do as a mother of one. If it's possible to be 100% terrified and 100% stoked, that's me. I hope Daddy and I have done an adequate job of preparing you for Buzz's arrival. You seem to understand that I'm not actually giving birth to a Space Ranger, and you seem to understand that we're not actually naming the baby Buzz Yightyear (though if you want to call him/her Buzz, it'll be A-OK with us). You seem to understand that Buzz will cry a lot ("Momma, if Buzz is cwying, I'll pat his back and say 'It's okay, Baby Buzz. Don't cwy!'"). You also seem okay that Buzz won't be able to play with you for a while. This is mainly due to you wanting to play with all of Buzz's toys first ("I'll pway wiff dem first, then I'll yet [let] Baby Buzz pway wiff dem. I gots to show him how to use dem!"). Daddy and I have talked to you a lot about how fun it is to be a big girl and how babies don't get to do NEARLY the amount of fun stuff that big girls can do. So periodically throughout the day, you'll come up to me and list off more things that you can do that Baby Buzz can do. I'm hoping this list will motivate you to help Buzz LEARN how to do these fun things and not rub it in his face that he CAN'T do them yet. So far, these are the things you seem excited to teach Buzz how to do: build a Yeggo (Lego) tower; build a Yincoln Yog (Lincoln Log) house; jump; have a piwwo (pillow) fight with Mommy and Daddy; eat a peanut butter and jewwy samwich; sing Jesus Yuhves Me; cowwor (color); do a somersault; cwimb (climb) up on Mommy and Daddy's bed; dwink from a sippy cup; get dwessed; do da Hot Dog Dance from Mickey Mouse. You also seem excited to feed Buzz a bottle ("but not fiwwed [filled] wiff MY milk - he's too yiddle to dwink MY milk") and to show him how to properly play with his toys (namely his rattle and his tummy time mat). Buzz is so SO lucky to have you as a big sister. I know we'll have our rough days, but I have no doubt that you'll be the most amazing big sister. Know who else is lucky? Daddy and me. We've hit the Awesome Kid Lottery.

Hugs and smooches,
Mommy & Daddy

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Headlines for November 1, 2011

• Right rallies to Cain over sexual harassment claims
• Scientists: World to be hit by more weather disasters
• Yoga eases chronic back pain, study shows
• Murray to decide Tuesday whether he'll testify
• Hope scares up a decent dance on 'DWTS'
• Kim Kardashian files for divorce after 72 days
• Can Halloween scare your immunity?
  

Weekly Buzz - Week 37

I do believe, little baby, that you have indeed dropped. My belly has gone from a basketball-shaped mass to more of a Pinocchio-nose-shaped mass. You make me look a lot pointier now, and while it's not as cute as a basketball, it means we're making progress. Keep it up!

I lost a pound this week. Of course I'm not trying to lose weight, but since I've only gained weight for the past 9 months, it was kind of nice to hear that I lost something. I'm sure it's due to being outside more thanks to the lovely weather we've been having.

Daddy and I are packing our hospital bag this week (shame on us for not having it done earlier!). I've packed four outfits for you: two pink outfits in different sizes and two blue outfits in different sizes. I'm assuming you'll be too big for a newborn outfit (Smith babies are anything but small and dainty), but I'm bringing two, just in case. I cannot believe you'll be here soon. Like for REAL soon.

I'm pretty sure that Daddy and I have finalized your name. We have our #1 boy name and #1 girl name - and we also have backup names in case the #1 name doesn't suit you for some reason. And funny enough, they happen to be Natalie's favorite names for you.

Oh, and according to SLPA, you're the size of a Swiss chard. A 6.5-lb Swiss chard.

Weekly Natalie - Week 145

Maybe it's because I'm very pregnant and very emotional, or maybe because she's becoming a big sister in a few short weeks, but she looks so gigantic in this picture. A gigantic baby-faced munchkin. Who I love so, so much.

Weekly Natalie - Week 144

Natalie's latest favorite thing is for me to take a video of her and for her to watch it afterward. She calls the 'Natalie video' a 'show'. As in, "Yet's watch da show, Momma!"

Here she is 'reading' Pat the Bunny to me.


(Yep, you heard that right. She asked if Paul and Judy were healthy. Silly kid.)

Here she is 'reading' Scuffy the Tugboat to me.



In case you're having a hard time understanding her, here's what she's saying: Scuffy was sad. He [something, something] loud things. My arm. The teddy bear came into the storm. And one day, they catched the polka-dot tie with the man with the hair with the boy's hair. With the bathtub. With the water things. And, uh, and the end!

Weekly Natalie - Week 143

We've had some amazingly top-notch weather here recently, so I took full advantage of it by visiting lots of parks. Being 8 months pregnant doesn't allow me to be the most fun park buddy, but Nat didn't seem to mind. Let's hope this trend continues!

She scares me to death every time she does this.
In my mind, she's gonna swing too far and launch herself off the slide.

Singing "Jesus Loves Me" at the top of her lungs

Boingy, boingy, boingy!
(Braided PIGTAILS!!)

Boinging with Daddy

Where did my tiny, tiny baby go?!

Weekly Buzz - Week 34

So Super Lame Pregnancy App (SLPA) continues to baffle me in its description of you. This week marks 34 weeks. And to what did SLPA compare you to? Not just a cantaloupe, no sir, but an average cantaloupe. I can assure you, dear baby, that you are anything but average. Team Smith doesn't contain any average members. Kooky? Yes. Spazzy? Sure. Mind-blowingly awesome? You betcha. Average? Ha.

Onto other you-related news, you are now head-down. I think you must have moved this morning, because I was pretty sure you were still lying sideways last night. And birthing a kid who insists on lying sideways ain't happening. You're too young for an anatomy lesson, but trust me: sideways != good ... head down = good.

And you are definitely your father's child. Because while your body is measuring at 34 weeks, your head is measuring at 36w+2d. If you decide to come on your 'head due date', you'll be here before Halloween. That's in just a few short weeks. A. Few. Short. Weeks.

I think another holiday baby would be awesome. I was just thinking of Veteran's Day.

September 2011 - Recap

My dear sweetness,
Have I mentioned lately how you're good for the ego? Because you so are. When you belly-laugh at something Daddy or I do, it's the best thing ever. Even when your belly laughs are super-fake, it's still the best thing ever.

I'm big on giving you choices. "Do you want to wear your pink shoes or brown shoes?" "Do you want to brush your teeth first or second?" "Do you want to run to the car or hop to the car?" If you don't want to do something (which is happening a lot, actually. Knock it off.), you've started saying "I don't want to do ANYSING (anything)! I just want to go home and take a bass (bath)". Um, okay, what?

We moved you to a big girl bed this month. And I literally mean 'moved'. From December 2010 until March-ish 2011, you slept on the floor, as close to the entrance of your room as physically possible (you practically had baby gate marks on your face from being so close to it). You didn't want a mattress and you were barely okay with us putting a blanket on the floor for your to sleep on. You had a toddler bed to sleep in, but I think when you got your first ear infection, you associated the pain of that to your new toddler bed (since the ear infection and the transition to the toddler bed happened within days of each other). So in March, you finally got okay with us putting your crib mattress on the floor by the door. So you slept on that until August. We tried to be sneaky and slowly start to move the mattress further and further away from the door, but you were on to our little games. You insisted that wherever we put the mattress wasn't close enough to the door unless it was physically touching the baby gate. We took the toddler bed out of your room and bought you a twin bed with some extraordinarily cute bedding (polkadots, paisley, butterflies, and plaid - oh my!). You were STOKED. Until ... you realized that the big girl bed was where your crib was (ie: in the normal place where a bed goes, NOT by the door) and that we weren't moving it to be closer to the door. We explained at length about how your big girl bed was too big and heavy to move, and that you didn't need to sleep by the door anymore. You weren't 100% happy with our explanation, but lo and behold, you stayed in bed all night. I was convinced that you'd get up multiple times during the night and fuss about your new sleeping arrangements, but you surprised me, Little One. You don't always stay in your bed, though. On several occasions, you've woken up and brought your pillow to your trusty spot by the baby gate and fallen back asleep. But you do it without fussing or crying. And in the mornings? Instead of squawking for us to come get you as soon as you wake up, you read your books and play with your toys for at least 10 or 15 minutes. Many times, I've come to check on you and you're laying down on the floor by the baby gate, with your feet propped up on the wall, reading to yourself. You'll look up at me and say "I'm not weddy for bweckfast. I'm still weeding my books." It's awesome.

Speaking of your big girl bed, you insist on showing everyone your big girl bed. This includes people who have already seen your big girl bed. Multiple times. Like Bob and Pep. And even Daddy. Often, when he comes home from work, you run up to him and squeal "I got a big guhl bed, Daddy! Come yook at it!" Your favorite thing to show people is how you can do somersaults on (and often off) your bed. I think gymnastics class is definitely in your future.

With many thanks to Dora the Explorer, you can now count to 10 in Spanish. It's muy cool-o.

You still say that school is 'scawy', although each time I've picked you up, you tell me how much fun you had ("I pwayed wiff a BALL at da GYM!" "I ate a peanut butter and jewwy SAMMICH!" "I colored a PICTURE!"). And you're not shy about saying "I did cwy a yiddle bit, Momma." You're always curious if I cried during whatever I did while you were at school. "Did you cwy at the gwocery store?" or "Did you cwy at Bible study?". When I tell you that I did not, in fact, cry, you giggle and say "Noooo, dat's siwwy (silly)!"

You were in your first wedding this month. One of my dearest friends got married; you were the flower girl and I was one of the matrons of honor. When she first asked me if you'd be the flower girl, she said she completely understood the inherent risks associated with asking a two-year-old (in particular, MY two-year-old) to take part in a wedding. She said that whatever you did (or didn't do) would be fine, and that kids make weddings funnier. (God bless her!) We figured the easiest thing would be for you and me to hold hands and walk down the aisle together. Two minutes before it was our turn to walk, you decided that you didn't want to do it. Instead, you wanted to play on the stairs in the lobby of the chapel. I loudly whispered that we could NOT, in fact, do that, and that we DID, in fact, have to walk down the aisle. You got all huffy and protested a bit more, but then you finally let me lead you to the entrance of the sanctuary. When it was our turn, you grabbed my hand and we started our walk. One footstep into it, you decided you didn't want to hold my hand. You wrenched your hand from mine and said "Don't hold my hand, Momma. I can do it mySELF!" To me, it sounded like you yelled this. But nobody else said they heard it. Daddy and I had already decided that after you and I got to the front of the chapel, I would lead you to him and he'd take you out of the chapel to play outside. Because you being still and quiet during a wedding? Yeah, not gonna happen. So we got to the front of the chapel and you decided you wanted to sit on the floor. I tried to get you to sit at my feet where I was standing with the other bridesmaids, but you had another idea. You wanted to sit right where the bride would be standing. As I was trying to quietly but forcefully suggest you scoot your booty, Daddy swept in, scooped you up, and got you out of the chapel before you could pitch too big of a fit. All in all, I was really proud of you for how you handled the day. And baby girl, you couldn't have looked cuter if you TRIED. Bob made your flower girl dress (a sweet pillowcase dress made out of a gorgeous white paisley fabric with eyelets) and the bride's aunt made you a flower crown to wear.

I don't necessarily think of myself as having a strong Southern accent, but you have picked up this insanely Southern accent from SOMEwhere. Maybe we watch too much Paula Dean on TV. You pronounce milk like "MEE-ulk". You pronounce "gazelle" (you have a stuffed gazelle; otherwise, I assure you that the word "gazelle" probably wouldn't enter our vocabulary much) like "guh-ZAY-ul". And if I wasn't suffering from severe Pregnancy Brain, I could rattle off loads more words. But trust me, you sound like you could star in Steel Magnolias.

You've gotten really good about telling me about your feelings, and I'm trying to make sure we talk about your feelings, why you're feeling a certain way, and if there's anything we can do to change your feelings (if they're bad). You often get really "fwustwated" at me when I fuss at you for doing something you shouldn't be doing. Sometimes you tell me how "fwustwated" you are with the tone of a grousing, sullen 13-year-old girl. Sometimes you come up to me with your head lowered, looking all pitiful, and telling me you're "fwustwated". I love that you tell me how you're feeling (even if you don't always know why you're feeling the way you are), and as much as I'd like to tell you I'll work on not "fwustwating" you, alas, I cannot. I'm your mom. "Fwustwating your daughter" is the first item on my job description. In case you're wondering, the second item is "Blubbering your daughter's belly." I'm also awesome at that.

Hugs and smooches,
Mommy & Daddy

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Headlines for October 1, 2011:

• 'Let us go!': More than 500 arrested in Wall Street protest
• Official: Al-Awlaki's death will make al-Qaida afraid
• Snow already? Chill falls across eastern half of US
• Christie buzz increases
• Medic: Info from Jackson doctor didn't add up
• Eat This, Not That: Worst kids' meals in America

Weekly Natalie - Week 142

Reading her latest favorite book - a cute book about manners

And no book-time would be complete without a Fancy Nancy book

Smooches for Daddy <3

Weekly Natalie - Weeks 140 & 141

These were some seriously action-packed two weeks. Natalie has discovered the fabulous-ness of her big girl bed and one of my very best friends got married last weekend - so I had ample opportunities for pictures.

My love and me (why, yes that IS a flower girl crown I'm wearing -
don't tell Natalie that I took it)

Being the flower girl wore her out, so at the reception she
decided to take a little breather

Team Smith (the littlest member would rather sing
Jesus Loves Me than look at the camera)

Lee decorated my van for my birthday :)

Natalie approves of the decorations

What do you get a 31-year-old? Bug's Life, of course.

Her somersault form is quite impressive

Over she goes!

Ta daaaaaa!

Smiling, yes. At the camera, never.

Making sure I'm watching her

Pretty pleased with herself

Weekly Natalie - Weeks 134, 135, 136, 137, 138, 139

Who's got two thumbs and is Mother of the Year when it comes to updating the blog? Not this mom.

Yikes. Between houseguests, pregnancy brain, and just general exhaustion, I have been sorely slacking in my picture-taking and blog-posting. Here are two pictures from the past month to prove that we still exist.

In the middle of doing the Hot Dog Dance

The 'here's a smile to get you off my back' smile

August 2011 - Recap

You might notice (you know, when you can read and stuff) that this recap might not be as detailed as previous recaps. The main reason for that is our fun houseguests we had for almost two weeks! My very dear friend Nicole and her sweet girls (5 1/2 years old and 2 years old) came to visit us this month. I've never really seen you fully interact with other kids before, so I was a little nervous as to how you'd handle our visitors. Sure I've see you play *around* other kids and *near* other kids but not really *with* other kids. Well all that's changed. You and Nicole's girls played so, so well together - it honestly floored me. You three built Lego castles together, colored together, made Play-Doh sculptures together, and did unknown (but, from what Nicole and I could gather, some very giggly) things together back in your bedroom. Nicole and I would be sitting on the couch, actually having grown-up conversations (you know, ones that don't involve poop, sippy cups, and/or tantrums) and you three girls would be playing nicely in your room. And this happened many, many times over the 12 days. It was wonderful seeing you so comfortable and it was wonderful that you didn't need me by your side the whole time they were here. After you ate your breakfast in the mornings, you couldn't WAIT for Keira and Naomi to come out to the living room to play. As soon as you heard their door open, you jumped up and ran to see them. And most mornings started off with you chasing Keira around and around and around the living room and dining room. I loved every second. I'm so proud of you for being perfectly content playing with the girls. I know it might sound like a small thing, but trust me, my little love, it was a huge thing. You're making so much progress and I'm tickled pink over it.

Well Mommy and Daddy did it. We're official surburbanites who now drive a minivan. My Accord was totally fine, but as my belly is expanding at an exponential rate, it's getting harder and harder to bend over to get you strapped into your carseat. Having two carseats in the back of my car could have worked out fine, but with the amount of gear that you require plus the amount of gear that Baby Buzz will inevitably require, it just made sense to get something bigger. I only had two requirements (automatic sliding doors and rear air-conditioner), but those two requirements are standard on pretty much any minivan made in the last decade, so I was easy to please. You're completely fascinated by the doors opening and closing by themselves. And I'm fascinated by how much easier it is to get you in and out of the van. I'm also enormously thankful that now, when I get you out of the van, you're not a sweaty mess anymore. You're now an air-conditioned mess.

You started 'school' (ie: Mother's Day Out) (ie: a nice four-and-a-half-hour break once a week) this month. I was so, so proud of how you handled it. We walked up - to a new place, with new teachers, with new students, with lots of other kids crying in the hallway - and you started to panic a little. Totally understandable. We talked a bit about how much fun you'd have, about all the fun toys they have to play with, and about how you'll get to drink JUICE with your lunch (sidenote: you having juice is a rarity. You're a water-or-milk kind of kid, but I figured you'd feel left out if all the other kids had juice boxes with their lunch and you had water.) Hearing about juice really perked you up and you let me walk you down the hall to your room (the Kangaroom Room, by the way). I dropped off your bag, signed you in, and led you to the box of gigantic Legos. You were halfway through building an impressive tower when I reminded you that I wasn't staying and that it was time for me to go. You teared up (again, totally understandable), but looked at me and said "Momma, I'm gonna twy to be a bwave girl." It was quite possibly the sweetest thing I've ever heard. When I picked you that afternoon, the teacher said you did a great job but that you didn't sleep during 'rest time'. She said that you kept saying "I yike to seep in my own bed!" Ha. When you saw me at the door, you jumped up and squealed "Momma, I obeyed!! And I'm seepy. I need a nap." When we got in the van, I asked what you did at school. Your reply? "I ate yunch!" Then you asked me what I did while you were at school and I simply said "Oh, I just ran some errands. Nothing fun." In reality, though, I went to Barnes & Noble and ate a blueberry scone while I read magazines. Then I went home and watched a little bit of The Price is Right. Then I met with Daddy to sign some paperwork for our van. Those four-and-a-half hours were delicious, and it was made all the more delicious knowing that you had a great time at school. Oh, and for your second week of MDO? As we were walking to your room, you looked up at me and said "Mommy, school's scawwy but I gonna be a bwave girl in shining armor." Just when I think you can't get any more adorable.

I'm hoping so very much that this was the last month where it's too miserably hot to play outside. I long for Fall when we can spend as much time as we want outside without the fear of bursting into a ball of flames (or a ball of sweat - both options are awful).

One of your latest favorite things is to round up Daddy and me and have us sit on our bed. Then you climb up, open up Daddy's bi-fold business card case like a book and 'read' to us. You usually say something "Are you weddy for my good stowwy, Mommy and Daddy? Are you? Are you?" After you're satisfied that we're appropriately ready, you begin. "Once upon a time, but not too yong (long) ago ..." Then you look at us and ask for more confirmation that we are, in fact, ready for your good story. Then you announce you're going to turn the 'page'. You close the business card case, open it back up, and squeal THE END! I didn't do the cuteness any kind of justice by typing it all out, but believe me, little love, it's cute overload.

You actually say 'Smith' now, not 'Smiss'!! You looked so tickled with yourself when you first said it, in part because you saw how my jaw hit the floor when I heard you make the 'th' sound. You like to pronounce 'air conditioner' as 'eshen guntainer'. Sometimes you'll pronounce it correctly, but then you'll quickly 'correct' yourself and say it wrong. You also like to sing the wrong words to the Sesame Street theme song. FYI: the air is SWEET, not CLEAN. SWEET rhymes with STREET. CLEAN ... not so much. But you think it's hilarious to say 'clean' and try to get me to correct you. Have I mentioned lately how you're a funny little punk with an awesome sense of humor? Because you are. Funny. And a little punk. And you have an awesome sense of humor. And you're also a little punk. Did I forget to say that you're also a little punk? My punk. My awesome little punk.

Hugs and smooches,
Mommy & Daddy


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Headlines for September 1, 2011:

• Rhode Island also feeling big Irene impact
• Flooded Vermont sees slow progress
• After taking $800k pay cut, generous schools chief to donate reduced salary
• US marks first casualty-free month in Iraq since 2003
• Gadhafi vows no surrender: 'Let Libya burn'
• Venus Williams: What Is Sjogren's Syndrome?
• Nancy, Graceful? Will She Be Dancing's 'Bad' One?
• Sebastian Bach Loses Home to Hurricane Irene

Weekly Buzz - Week 29

You are quite the squirmy little munchkin, Mr. (or Miss) Yightyear. I hope that doesn't sound like a complaint, because truly it's not. Feeling the baby move is my #1 favorite thing about being pregnant, hands down. I love watching my belly jump and wiggle; I love that an actual person is making it jump and wiggle. Your kicks haven't been painful, and I'm hoping they'll stay that way. My one request is that you kindly move off my lungs because it's not cute to have to sit and catch your breath coming back from the kitchen.

Oh, and you're now the size of a butternut squash! Very fitting since you'll be eating lots and lots of those when it comes time for solid food. Just ask your sister. She'll tell you they rock. Unless, of course, she doesn't. In which case she'll be lying.

Weekly Buzz - Week 26

Super Lame Pregnancy App (SLPA) says you're now the size of a hothouse cucumber. The size? Really? Length, sure. Shape, most assuredly no. Your big-headed self is anything BUT the shape of a hothouse cucumber. A hothouse cucumber with a mango on top, perhaps.

Weekly Buzz - Week 25

Hey guess what! You went from 23.5 weeks to 25 weeks (well, not really, but as far as me keeping track, we completely skipped over your 24th week. Sorry about that.) I had my routine monthly appointment today and my midwife said that she forgot to tell me at my last appointment that she moved my due date up. So instead of being due on Thanksgiving, you're now due on 11/15. I vote for 11/11. Having both your and Nat's birth days full of 1s would be neat.

In all honesty, a different due date doesn't change anything. You're going to come when you're good and ready. Just ask your six-days-late sister and how her tardiness cost Daddy and me the tax break for 2008 by 15 hours. Don't tell her I said this, but she soooooo owes us.

July 2011 - Recap

My darling Miss Independent,

This month marked the "I can do it ALL by myself. I don't need ANY help" stage. And for the most part, I obliged. Even though that meant watching you try to stand up after you put both legs through one leg hole of your shorts. Or watching you try to take your just-slightly-too-small shirt off only for it to end up over your head, looking like a shrug. Or watching you try to put your hair in a ponytail by stretching a rubber band and laying it on top of your head. Or watching you try to do a somersault without quite knowing how to tuck-and-roll. And if Daddy or I even THINK about helping you do something you know how to do (like getting in your carseat by yourself, for example), whoo doggies. Watch out. It was raining one day so I was carrying you from the house to the car (since you have a tendency to both dilly AND dally on your way to the car and I didn't want you to get soaked). I made the fatal error of transferring you from my arms into your car seat. Cue the Meltdown, Armageddon Style. You sobbed and wailed and shrieked, "I want to do it MYSELF!! Don't put me in! I do it!!!!" We get a similar reaction if we fasten the chest strap of your carseat for you. That's your job. And we best not forget it.

You like for me to make faces. Namely Happy Face, Sad Face, Mad Face, Angry Face (not quite sure why you insist on BOTH Mad Face and Angry Face), Surprised Face, Scared Face, and Sleepy Face. When I do Sad or Mad or Angry or Scared Face, you frown and say "Ohhhh ... Mommy's sad [or mad or angry or scared]. I come and make her feel better." Then you walk over to me and gently pat my face. In return, I put on my Happy Face and thank you for making me feel better. For some reason, you find this to be the best game EVER. You get so tickled when our Sad Face turns into Happy Face. For the record, you make quite an awesome Mad Face. You glare and pucker your lips like you're about to kiss me. Not that I've kissed you when you do your Mad Face. Cuz you don't look cute or anything. You like to make those faces too. And when you've got your Sad Face or Scared Face, you ask us (in an appropriately Sad or Scared Voice) to make you feel better. Your Feel Better Face is your Surprised Face. It rocks.

So last month I mentioned how you're enormously curious about the songs that come on the radio, and that's how come we listen to KLOVE the vast majority of the time. Well you're now able able to hear the opening bars of no fewer than 17 songs and immediately tell me the title. Seriously. No lie. And you look so proud of yourself when you recognize a song. And I have to say, I'm super proud of you. The things you pick up on are amazing.

Speaking of songs, one that you've requested a lot is "The B-I-B-L-E Song", or, as you call it "The B-I-L-E Song". It seems like we need to have the "Taking out just one letter from a word can really REALLY change the word" chat.

So you're a little shaky on the proper spelling of 'Bible'. But what you're NOT shaky on is how to spell Mickey Mouse. Thanks to that infernal (not really, but kind of) show, you now go around the house hollering "M-I-C-K-E-Y M-O-U-S-E!" You sing the theme song to the Mickey Mouse Clubhouse approximately 749 times per day. Perhaps 4 of those times are done in your Inside Voice. The other 745 times are done proudly in your Outside Voice. (If you've never seen MMC, feel free to jump down to the next paragraph - because what I'm about to describe won't make a lick of sense to you). When you come across something that's broken or something that's dirty or something that's out of reach, you immediately shout "I need a Mousekatool! Oh Tooooooooooodles!! I need [some tape/some cleaner/a ladder/a baby elephant/whatever]!" Oh, if only Toodles were just a shout away. Because sometimes, a baby elephant would come in handy.

You had your first M&Ms this month (I know, I know - could I BE any less fun?). And instead of calling them M&Ms, you call them "Madams". It's very strange to be walking in a store with you, see you point to an M&M display and shout "Momma! Dere's a brown madam!!"

So we haven't gotten to the "Why?" stage with you. Instead, we're smack-dab in the "What kind?" stage. Let me give you some examples.
You: Momma, wass dat? [pointing to a tree]
Me: You know what that is!
You: Oh yeah, a twee. What kind of twee?
Me: [suddenly aware that the only trees I can identify for sure are palm trees and pine trees - and this tree is neither] Um, it's a green tree.
You: Oh yeah. What kind of gween twee?
Me: Umm, a green tree with leaves.
You: What kind of yeeves?
Me: Green leaves.
You: What kind of gween yeeves?
Me: Uhhhh, big green leaves.
You: What kind of big green leaves?
Me: Big green leaves that are on the green tree.
You: Oh. Yeah. On the twee.

You: Momma, wass dat? [pointing to an airplane at the Aviation Museum]
Me: It's an airplane, silly.
You: Oh yeah, an airpwane. What kind of airpwane?
Me: Ummm ... it's a big airplane.
You: What kind of big airpwane?
Me: Um, it's a big grey airplane.
You: What kind of big gwey airpwane?
Me: The kind with a propeller.
You: What kind of pwopey-yer?
Me: Ummm ... the kind that spins.
You: What kind of spins?
Me: The spins that a propeller does when the airplane is in the sky.
You: What kind of sky?
Me: Look up - that sky!
You: Oh! Okay!

You: Momma, what are you doing?
Me: Making dinner.
You: What kind of dinner?
Me: Spaghetti.
You: What kind of spaghetti?
Me: Noodles with sauce.
You: What kind of noodles and sauce?
Me: Yellow curly noodles with tomato and meat sauce.
You: What kind of tomato and meat sauce?
Me: The kind of sauce that has tomatoes and meat.
You: What kind of tomatoes?
Me: Canned tomatoes.
You: What kind of can?
Me: [my brain explodes]

Your inquisitive nature has forced me to admit several things: 1) I know very little in-depth information about most things 2) I have, on occasion, made something up so you'll stop asking me questions. 3) I will not win Mother of the Year this year.

You had your first experience with authentic New Orleans beignets this month. Your pregnant mommy had a hankerin' for them and your wonderful daddy suggested that we all take a road trip to Cafe Du Monde for some powdered sugar-covered tasty treats and delicious chicory coffee. Daddy and I had you pretty pumped up the whole drive over to New Orleans about getting some beignets (or, as you insisted on calling them, Donuts wiff White Sugar). And, blissfully, the beignets disappointed nary a member of Team Smith. They were hot. They were sweet. They weren't the least bit greasy. They were perfect. And they were gone in a matter of seconds. We even stopped back by Cafe du Monde for another two batches as we headed back home. Beignets aren't the ideal road trip food, but hey, we were in a rental car. Rental cars are made for beignets. On the way back home, your method of eating beignets changed drastically. Instead of scarfing it down (like you did earlier that morning), you simply licked all the powdered sugar off of it, dropped the now-gummy-and-soggy beignet on the floor of the car and asked for another one. Guess who lost all beignet-eating privileges on her ride home?

My belly is getting bigger and you're becoming more and more aware of it. You've decided that since I have Baby Buzz in my tummy, you have Baby Woody in your tummy. You especially like lifting your shirt to show me your tummy (and presumably Baby Woody). You've started showing me how you comfort your babies when they're 'sad' or 'crying'. You put them on your shoulder, pat their backs, and say "It's okay, babies. Don't cwy." It seriously makes me melt. I have no doubt you'll have your moments when you won't be quite as sweet with the real Baby Buzz, but to know that you have a nurturing heart is so amazing. You're going to be such an awesome big sister. And as an Awesome Big Sister, one of your jobs will be to answer all of Buzz's "What Kind?" questions.

Hugs and smooches,
Mommy & Daddy


Headlines for August 1, 2011
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• Key vote looms after deal OKs $2 trillion in budget cuts
• Wall Street set to rally on US debt deal hopes
• Smallest med school in U.S. opens with 8 students
• An electric plane you can (almost) buy
• Al Pacino's daughter arrested for DWI
• Divers Search Pond for Signs of Missing N.H. Girl