Month 13 - Recap

Sound the alarms!  Roll out the red carpet!  SOMEbody got their top two teeth in this month.  And SOMEbody's been a drooly, fussy, snotty mess because of it.  And I couldn't be happier.  Now your mouth looks like the mouth of a seven-month-old.  Hooray!  I'm hoping your other teeth will succumb to peer pressure and make their debut soon.  Because seriously, there's food I think you'd really like if only you had the proper chompers to chew it (namely apples and bell peppers).

Your whininess got fairly extreme this month.  I know your mouth hurt so it's not as if I was frantically searching for the answer as to WHY you drove me batty this month.  But it was still tough trying to make you feel better when all you had the urge to do was fuss.  And screech.  And throw food.  Ahhh yes, throwing food.  If something doesn't suit your fancy, you have the lovely habit of throwing the aforementioned food.  If I see you about to do it, I look at you and sternly say "No sir.  We don't throw food.  Put it back down on your tray."  And seriously, about 99% of the time, you put the food back on your tray.  When I DON'T see you, however, THAT'S when my floor and counters get covered in rejected food.  You seem to have an orange food aversion.  Which is lunacy, because some of the best food EVER is orange.  I take that back - you don't hate everything orange.  You'll throw down on some clementines (scratch 'scurvy' off the list of things I'm worried you'll come down with).  But pretty much everything else (sweet potatoes, carrots, cheddar cheese, Cheesy Cheesy Explosion [my favorite comfort food that Bob made when Aunt KK and I were younger - Daddy renamed it to Cheesy Cheesy Explosion]) gets the big ol' heave ho.  On to my floor.  Where I then step on it.  And then am grossed out by the ooziness on my foot.

I love how snuggly you are.  You're not overly so, such that I can't get a thing done around the house because I'm too busy snuggling (which wouldn't be the worst thing in the world at ALL).  But pretty often during the day, you'll crawl over to me and either flop down in my lap or stand up in my lap and put your head on my shoulder.  You don't stay long; it's like you need just a quick little Mommy Recharge and you're good to go for a while.  It's delightful.  You also do it with Natalie.  You'll flop down in her lap throughout the day, too.  And she just gushes about how cute you are and how sweet it is for you to snuggle with her.  She'll rub your pack and (not always) gently pat your head.  And if Natalie happens to be in my lap when you need your Mommy Recharge, you crawl over to me, stop in front of my now-occupied lap and squawk like an angry parrot.  I'll scoop you up, give you the hug you need, set you back down, and you scoot off again.  I love it.  It could be jealousy or it could be she's in a more cuddly stage, but ever since Natalie noticed how cuddly you are, she's been more cuddly too.  I love, love, love it.

Speaking of Natalie, you are her biggest cheering section.  When she stands up and announces "Mommy and Charlie, watch THIS", you indeed do.  Your eyes are glued to her, and she absolutely notices it.  She'll do her trick (a song, a dance, a ballet move, a gymnastic move, eat a cracker ... anything really) and then end with a flourish and a 'taa-daaaaaaaaa'.  You immediately start clapping and giggling. and Natalie just looks so darn proud when she sees you cheer for her.  I hope you both will always be each other's biggest fans.  After Daddy and me of course.  Cuz we've got the top spot on your list of fans.

You're saying Momma and Dada a lot.  I'm not 100% sure that you're using them in relation to me and Daddy, but we'll take it.  You also say "na-na".  A lot.  Like, a LOT lot.  Sometimes I think you're taking about a baNAna.  Then I think you're trying to say 'NAp'.  Natalie thinks you're trying to say 'NAtalie' (of course).  Maybe you have us all fooled and you're actually saying "Will you buy me a CaNAdian goose?".  Or "Let's go to a NAscar race."  Or "I sure would like a sweet pair of boots from LANd's End."  Who knows.  As long "na-na" also means "You're the best, prettiest, funniest, and most caring Mommy in the world, you deserve a long NAp, and I thank my lucky stars for you", you're doing just fine.

Hugs and smooches,
Mommy & Daddy

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Headlines for November 9, 2012:

• Royal hoax DJs 'heartbroken' over nurse's death
• As fiscal cliff looms, DC wrangles over entitlements
• SEAL Team Six Member Killed in Raid to Free Doctor
• POLICE: Boys, 7 and 11, Attempt Robbery
• UK Police Unable to Identify Man Who Fell From Sky
• Another TSA Agent Accused of iPad Theft

November 2012 - Recap

My dear peach,

Well MY goodness.  SOMEbody has had on her extra-tight big ol' Sassy Pants on this month.  And accordingly, I've had to hike on my Don't-Sell-Your-Daughter-on-eBay-Unless-She-Tones-The-Sass-Down Pants.  I'm just gonna chalk it up to losing an hour of sleep (the time change was obviously instituted by someone who didn't have children and didn't understand the ramifications of the loss of those precious 60 minutes.)  If you would, be a doll and remove your Sassy Pants and put back on your Obedient Pants.

I've started to accept the fact that you may be coming out of the (beautiful) phase where you need an afternoon nap.  It took a few weeks of you refusing to take a nap during Nap Time and constantly coming in to the living room and whining that you weren't sleepy for me to realize it's time to change my tactic (yes, perhaps a brighter mother would have picked up on this sooner than I did.  Them's the breaks).  So even though you don't nap, you (read: I) still need to have Quiet Time in the afternoon.  I made it clear to you that you do NOT have to sleep but you DO have to stay in your room.  You can play with your dolls, read books, jump on your bed, sing, somersault across your floor, build a Lego tower, anything you want - just as long as you stay in your room.  And you know what's funny?  80% of the time you go to your room for Quiet Time, you put yourself down for a nap after an hour or so of playing.  It's fabulous.  You feel in control of how you spend your time, and as long as the nap is YOUR idea (ie: not mine), you're more likely to do it.  Of course there are definitely days where you still come out of your room and whine that you don't LIKE Quiet Time and that's it no FUN playing by yourself and that it's not FAIR that you have to have Quiet Time and that you've decided that Quiet Time is now over (I'll give you zero guesses as to how that last statement goes over with me).

Speaking of things not being fair, I didn't expect for you to throw that line at me for at LEAST two or three more years.  You having to put your clothes in your hamper isn't FAIR?  You having to brush your teeth isn't FAIR?  You having to wash your hands after you go to the bathroom isn't FAIR?  Seriously?!!  I hate giving you such a blanket response, but I've totally busted out with "I know.  Life's not fair.  Get used to it."

As maddening as it is, I think it's neat how predictably unpredictable you are.  Things that I think would bother you, don't (neat).  Things that I think you'll love, you don't (maddening).  Let's take a rope bridge, for instance.  We went to Houston for Thanksgiving to visit Daddy's friend from college and his family.  While Daddy was visiting his friend, Daddy's friend's wife and their two kids, Charlie, you, and me all went to a nature trail.  We came to a rope bridge - one rope that you walk across with two higher ropes on either side that you use to help you across.  I was convinced that you wouldn't want to try it.  But when you saw the older girls try it, you were super jazzed about it.  You only needed help for the first three or four steps and then you wanted to do it by yourself.  You fell off the rope several times (a grand total of about 10" to the ground) and you got back up with a smile on your face each time.  I was super proud.  I love how brave you are.  (You're not scared of a wobbly rope bridge, but you know what you say you ARE afraid of?  Brushing your teeth. [facepalm]).

When you get up in the morning, you've started bringing out to the living room your beloved teddy bear for the expressed purpose of giving her to Charlie for him to hug.  To me, it's the epitome of kindness.  And Charlie just couldn't be happier.  He loves your teddy bear almost as much as you do.  And when you hand her to him, he buries his head into her and just smiles and smiles.  I thank God often for your sweet heart.  You're incredibly kind and sensitive, and even on your most sassiest of Sassy Pants days, I am humbled to be your Momma.  Humbled enough to where I'd never really sell you on eBay.  Promise.

Hugs and smooches,
Mommy & Daddy

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Headlines for December 1, 2012:

• Fla. Men Charged in Alleged Terror Plot
• Obama Warns Of 'Scrooge Christmas' Without Deal
• Missouri introduces Powerball jackpot winners
• North Korea vows to test long-range rocket
• Underwood to play Maria in 'Sound of Music'
• Kids eat better than mom or dad, study suggests

Year One - Year End Review

Well lookie there, you dimpled little munchkin.  You did it.  You survived an entire year with this house full of crazies.

10 Things You're Good At:

1. Eating.  Pretty much anything, but specifically yogurt, bananas, Cheerios, tomatoes, blueberries, cheese, spaghetti, pears, peas, and avocados.
2. Drooling
3. Making people smile.  You're quite the charming little rascal. 
4. Saying 'Dadadadadadadadadadada'
5. Crawling
6. Cruising.  
7. Playing with Natalie.  You are still so fascinated by her (and frankly, so am I) and can think of nothing better than playing with her.
8. Dancing.  You appear to have inherited Daddy's wicked dance skillz.
9. Drinking from a straw.  Not to compare you to your sister, but you're way better at drinking from a straw than she was at this age.
10. Laughing.  Your laugh is infectious and could quite possibly be the solution to the whole lack-of-world-peace problem.

10 Things You're NOT Good At:

1. Sleeping in.  (But trust me: when you're 13 and want to sleep in 'til 10am on Saturday morning, I will so be waking you up at 5:30am.  I'm not above playing dirty.)
2. Eating quietly.  You and your sister are both so ridiculously noisy when you eat.  I've finally gotten Natalie to tone the noise down, so I'm not expecting you to do it any time soon.
3. Putting your laundry away.  You have opposable thumbs, you're reasonably strong, I see know reason why you can't pitch in.
4. Standing without assistance.  I know, I know - you have a gigantic head and it throws off your center of balance ...
5. Being patient.  I know this is not a skill that most one-year-olds possess, but I'm not the mother of most one-year-olds.  I'm the mother of you.  And as your mother, you simply have to learn to be patient.  I'm old and slow.  And I blame my old-ness and slow-ness on you and your sister, so the least you could do is be patient with my defects that you two caused.
6. Growing teeth.  Two?  After 12 months of life?  Really?  That's all you got?
7. Eating apples.  I think this is directly related to #6.  Granted, this does not stop you from shoving in handfuls of apple pieces in your mouth.  So what we end up with is a mouthful of slobbery, partially-chewed apple pieces.  Yuck.
8. Saying 'Momma'.  You say 'Dada' all the time.  But no 'Momma'.  No 'loveliest lady in the world'.  No 'Mother Dearest'.  No 'maMA' (said it a cool British accent).  None of those.  Nada.  Zip.  Superpunk.
9. Varying from your routine.  This has its good points, but it's also difficult.  I'm a creature of habit, so I'm sure it's my doing that made you and Natalie both creatures of habit.  
10. Remembering my grocery list for me.  Sometimes I forget things at the grocery store.  And when I look to you for help in remembering, you just laugh at me.  And drool.  And dance.  

10 Things You Love:

1. Frozen food.  Perhaps if you'd grow some more teeth, I wouldn't need to feed you food that numbs your gums ...
2. Natalie.  Everything she does, everything she says, everywhere she goes is fascinating to you.  You follow her around like a groupie.  
3. Tackling us.  If someone is lying on the ground, you take it as your personal mission to body slam that person.  
4. Drooling.  If it weren't for your pudgy belly and chubby thighs, I'd be worried you didn't know how to swallow, with how much spit flows from your mouth on a constant basis.
5. Puzzles.  You obviously don't put puzzles together, but you do like picking up each piece, examining it, tasting it, and then putting it back (incorrectly, much to Natalie's delight - because she gets to fix it for you)
6. People.  You smile at anyone and everyone.  With Natalie, I don't think I'll ever have to worry about her willingly going off with a stranger.  She's so wary of people and always sticks close by me.  With you though?  I think I'm going to have to put a leash on you.
7. Avocados.  I think you'd be fine with a milk-and-avocado diet for the rest of your life.
8. Going with me to pick up Natalie from preschool.  Some of your favorite things are wrapped up into one trip: seeing Natalie; being hugged by Natalie; seeing lots of other little kids; being tickled by those little kids (they love tickling your feet!); being outside (Natalie likes to play outside for a few minutes before we load up and head home)
9. Greeting Daddy when he comes home.  Natalie beats you to him, of course, but you're close on her heels, squealing and giggling.  I feel very confident that I can speak for Daddy and say this is one of his most favorite things ever.
10. Hugging toys.  I don't remember if Natalie did it as much as you do, but if we put something soft in your hands, you immediately bring it to your face, lean your cheek on it, and rock from side to side.  PRECIOUS.

10 Things You Don't Love:

1. Baths.  While it's not a biggie, it's certainly a bummer to have you pitch a fit in a room with such excellent acoustics.  Ouch.
2. Lunch meat.  I think it's a texture thing.  
3. Broccoli.  

I guess that's what happens with good-natured kids ... I can't come up with any more than three things that you don't like.

My sweet bear, this has been quite a big year for you.  You got born-ed, kid, and that's a huge accomplishment (and since you came in record time, not being born in the back of Mommy's van is also an accomplishment).  You've gone from someone who loves baths to someone who, in keeping with the Smithkid tradition, hates baths.  (Though in the grand scheme of things, hating baths is really a non-issue.  They only last five minutes, and as soon as we're done, you're happy again.)  You've gone from someone who is completely immobile to someone who crawls so fast that you often fall on your face because your hands and knees can't keep up with your desire for forward motion.  You've gone from someone who just drinks milk to someone who eats just about anything and everything.  You went from having zero teeth to having two teeth (okay, so that's not THAT impressive).  You went from waking every two or three hours to sleeping a solid 10+ hours (may I be so bold as to put in a formal request that that number get bumped up to 11?).  You went from someone who had no idea what it meant to be a pesky younger brother to someone who is quite adept at the peskiness (and between you and me, Natalie needed some peskiness in her life.  Keep it up.)  You went from a boring, little lump (is it obvious that the infant stage is NOT my favorite?) to an easy-going, endlessly-amused-by-yourself, dimpled-cheeked, square-jawed, jabbering little Bear who has completely stolen the hearts of the other members of Team Smith.

I don't know if it's a Mom-of-a-Boy thing, or if it's a Mom-of-a-Girl-and-Then-a-Mom-of-a-Boy thing, or if it's a Suze-is-Weird-And-It's-Just-a-My-Thing thing, but having a boy - having YOU - has forever changed me.  I so wish I could adequately put it into words, but I'm afraid I can't.  So you'll have to settle for my inadequate version.  Practically the second you were born, I immediately started praying for your future wife.  Praying for the girl who will someday hold your heart, whose heart you'll also hold.  I pray that I can be the kind of mom who will model the kind of Godly characteristics that you'll eventually look for in a spouse.  (I don't mean for that to be creepy - I don't want you to marry someone who's just like me, because 1) that's weird, and 2) I'm a special breed of crazy that only Daddy is equipped to wrangle.  I just mean I hope I can adequately demonstrate to you and Natalie the qualities of a Godly wife).  My job as a mom is something I take quite seriously.  And my desire to model Godly characteristics for you and Natalie is one of the top things on my Mom To-Do List.  My desire to demonstrate my never-ending need for God's love, forgiveness, and mercy is also on the list.  As is 'Take Lots of Naps'.

Congratulations, my darling boy.  You made me the happiest, most fulfilled Mommy on the planet.  Just when I thought my heart was filled to the brim with love for your sister, you go and bust down all my heart-barriers and show me there is plenty of room and an endless supply of love in my heart for a drooly little heart-melter.  I love you, my sweet boy.

Hugs and smooches,
Mommy & Daddy

Here's Natalie singing Happy Birthday to you the day after you were born.  Melts my little heart ever single time.

Month 12 - Recap

I was so busy writing your Yearly Recap that I almost forgot to talk about what you did this month.  Silly.

Your personality continues to shine and I love seeing what you'll do for a laugh.  (I'm well aware that this part of your personality will very likely get you in trouble at school.  But I'm also well aware that those stinkin' cute dimples of yours will very likely get you out of trouble at school, too).   You like to play Peekaboo with anything you can get your hands on - your bib, a towel, a sock, a block, a baseball, you name it.  And while you'll need something along the size of a beach towel or a dinner plate to actually cover your gigantic noggin, Peekaboo amuses you to no end.

Your latest trick is to put your head on our shoulder and snuggle into us when we ask you for a kiss.  I LOVE it.  And while I have no clue why you do THAT as a kiss, keep it up.  Especially when you get to be a teenager.  When you go in for your first kiss (like, when you're 18 ... or 25 ...), by all means, snuggle her shoulder instead.  That's A-OK with me.

Natalie got pink eye earlier this month, and I was 100% sure you were going to get it.  A week went by and you were symptom-free.  The very next day, I got you up from your morning nap and your eyelid was glued shut by massive amounts of crud.  I immediately burst into tears because I so wanted you and Natalie to dress up for Halloween.  I spent that day wiping breastmilk on your eyes and trying to pry your eyes open so  I could put eye drops in them.  You never had any other symptoms other than an a cruddy eye.  The next day, your eye was clear.  I was doing the happy dance, giving mad props to the impressive healing power of my breastmilk.  The next day, your OTHER eye was glued shut.  I immediately stopped the aforementioned happy dance, and repeated the breastmilk-and-eye-drop routine.  The next day, that eye was clear.  The next day, both eyes were cruddy (though not glued shut).  The next day, they were clear.  So annoying.  And it was either the weirdest case of Pink Eye EVER, or you had some funky, clogged tear ducts.  I'm leaning toward the clogged tear ducts because you were never fussy (except when I tried to de-gunk your eyes), you never got a runny nose, you never acted like you didn't feel well.  It doesn't really matter either way - the point is your eyes have now been gunk-free for a few weeks now.  And that's a lovely thing.

Speaking of breastmilk (I can practically hear you saying "Moooooom!  Don't talk about THAT!"), you decided you were uninterested in nursing about three weeks ago.  One day, I realized I only nursed you twice, and both times I had to come FIND you to nurse.  You never indicated to me you wanted it.  Since I thought it was silly to nurse a kid who's obviously not interested, I stopped.  And instead of buying a can of formula to tide you over until your first birthday, I broke the Wait Till A Child Is One Year Old Before Introducing Cow's Milk rule and gave you milk.  And dude, for real, you acted like I had just given you a bajillion dollars (if babies actually cared about money, of course).  You got so excited and sucked down every last drop; when you were done, you gave me the biggest smile.  When I started Natalie on regular milk, I had to warm it up a bit for her in order for her to like it.  With you, I gave it to you cold (this is yet another example of the classic case of second children never getting any special treatment) and you couldn't have been happier.  I have to fight Daddy off your milk - I got you the crunchy-granola, tree-hugger whole milk (the non-homogenized kind in glass bottles where you have to shake it every time you want some because the cream is floating on top), and Daddy thinks it's delicious.  And as much as I don't like to admit it, it IS really yummy.  I'd have to go back to work to support our current milk habit if we decided to make the switch to the tree-hugger milk for all of us.  Or I could just make YOU get a job. I'm sure somebody's in the market for a adorable, drooly, non-walking Scruncher Bear, right??

I dressed you up as Buzz Lightyear for Halloween.  I'm sure there were hundreds of boys dressed up like Buzz Lightyear, but I'm willing to bet that you were the only one who was named Buzz Lightyear in utero (more specifically, Buzz Yightyear, thanks to your sister's funny pronunciation of Ls).  You will always be my sweet Baby-Buzz-turned-Charlie-Bear.  And I will always be the luckiest momma ever.

Hugs and smooches,
Mommy & Daddy

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Headlines for November 9, 2012:

• Storm-stricken NY wakes up to gas rationing
• Gunman sentenced to life in Giffords case
• Iranian missiles hitting Afghan soil, official says
• Hurricane Sandy may have cost Obama 800,000 votes
• It's not the 2000 recount, but voting snafus and disputes still plague Florida
• 'Twilight' Fans Camping Out for Movie

October 2012 - Recap

My sweet girl,
This is the month of the pink-eyed monster.  You, my darling, sweet, incredibly smart little peach, are, to put it mildly, a disaster when you're sick.  You're a nonstop Whine Parade and act as if I could have possibly forgotten (in the past two minutes since you last told me) that you, in fact, DO feel awful.  Your poor eye was glued shut by three pounds of gunk.  And you were NOT pleased with me having to clean your eye every hour or so.  I even went so far as to wipe breastmilk on your eyes (because that stuff fixes EVERYthing).  You squealed and protested "But Mommy!  That stuff goes in Charlie's MOUTH!!!!"  I didn't even attempt putting your prescription eye drops in your eye (pinning down a sick three-year-old is NOT high on my To Do list) - instead, I opted for the "squeeze a drop or two on a napkin, then wipe the napkin across your eye" approach.  You watched approximately 683 hours of Strawberry Shortcake (awful show, in case you're wondering) and 173 hours of My Big, Big Friend (fairly cute - waaaaay better than Strawberry Shortcake).  I had to keep reminding you not to touch Charlie's face.  Or hands.  Or feet.  Or anything that he could put in his mouth (which is everything).

You've really gotten interested in helping me cook.  You particularly like to make your breakfast in the morning; you've been on a peanut-butter-sandwich-with-a-side-of-banana kick, so that makes it pretty easy.  I'm trying to teach you the fine art (ie: my way) of making sandwiches rather than Daddy's way (ie: the wrong way).  With my way, whatever you're spreading would reach the far corners of the bread.  With Daddy's way (in case you forgot, this would be the wrong way), whatever your spreading may or may not go to the far corners of the bread.  In fact, what you're spreading may not even be spread - it might just be plopped in the center of the bread that that's it.  You've gotten pretty good at spreading peanut butter, and I even let you wield a knife (with my hands safely covering yours) to cut your banana in half.  You also like to smell spices.  I love that you're interested in how things smell.  You really like cinnamon ("It smells like oatmeal!") and vanilla ("It smells like cake!").  I had some Montreal Chicken seasoning and you asked to smell it.  I unscrewed the cap and handed you the bottle.  I turned my back to you so I didn't see this take place, but
since I saw the aftermath, I know exactly what happened.  You stuck your nose right at the opening of the jar and sniffed really deeply.  Not only did you find out what Montreal Chicken seasons smells like, you also found out that Montreal Chicken seasoning burns the dickens out of your nose (particularly when you have about a teaspoonful crammed in your nostrils).  I tried so hard to be sympathetic and not laugh, but, well, I did.  I know it must have hurt, though.

One of your favorite things to do is to 'read' to us at bedtime.  Usually Daddy or I read your bedtime story, but recently, you've wanted to do it.  There are about 10 books you've memorized and you love reading to us.  You're quite the master storyteller, asking "Oooh!  I wonder what's going to happen next!!!" as you slowly turn to the next page.  I know it's just another way you dilly-dally your whole bedtime routine, but you're just so stinkin' funny when you do it, that it's hard to be aggravated.

More than once this month, you've looked at me while eating dinner and said "Thank you for cooking this food, Momma.  You're a really, really good cooker."  Let me tell you something, my doll: you saying that means the WORLD to me.  I work really hard trying to cook good, real food for you, Charlie, and Daddy.  I feel like part of my job as a stay-at-home mom is to work hard to cook most of our meals.  And making sure those meals are nutritious and (reasonably) tasty.  So even though I'm taking a compliment from someone whose track record of saying things that make sense isn't the best ("I don't know how to put on my shoes!", "What's a fork?", "I can't remember how to brush my teeth!"), I'm taking it gladly and running with it.

This is the 2nd year we've taken you to a pumpkin patch.  Last year, you were scared of the big Box O' Dried Corn Kernels.  This year, you dove right in.  Last year, you were scared of the horses.  This year, you were beyond stoked, and I'm pretty sure you're going to ask Daddy to buy you a pony for Christmas.  Last year, you were scared of the tire swing.  This year, you giggled and sang as you swung.  Last year, you were scared of the sand pile.  This year, you jumped right in (and ended up taking home several cups of sand in your britches).  Last year, I don't remember there being a zip line, but I'm pretty sure you would have freaked out if we had suggested it.  This year, you rode the zip line no fewer than 10 times.  And it only took you one time of riding with Daddy holding on to you as he ran beside you before you decided you could do  it by yourself.  And by yourself you DID.  You rocked it.  Daddy and I were so proud of you for how brave you were in trying all the new things.  What a difference a year makes.  But just like last year, though, you insisted on looking for a pumpkin "that wasn't so dirty, Mommy.  These are yucky."  Some things never change.

I don't particularly like Halloween.  I don't like creepy stuff, I don't like scary stuff, and I'm not a fan of going door-to-door asking for candy.  It's not the candy I mind - though I really limit what you can have; last year was the first time you ate Halloween candy.  (Daddy and I, on the other hand, have eaten your Halloween candy for four years.  Ha.), but I much prefer Truck-or-Treating over Trick-or-Treating.  The controlled environment of Trunk-or-Treating seems safer (and far less intrusive) to me than going door-to-door and asking for candy.  So despite all THAT, I do, however, like finding cute costumes for and Charlie to wear.  I've gotten really lucky and found an adorable costume for you each year.  A chicken when you were one, a 50s-inspired sock hop dress when you were two, and Dorothy from The Wizard of Oz when you were three.  This year, I found a pair of scrubs just your size.  They're fabulous and you look like a natural in them.  'Dr. Natalie' has a nice ring to it.  As does 'A Sweet Retirement Home For Mommy and Daddy Purchased By Our Super Successful Doctor Daughter'.

Hugs and smooches,
Mommy & Daddy

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Headlines for November 1, 2012:

• Storm kills legions of NYU lab mice
• Long road for Sandy-battered areas despite progress
• Show must go on: Broadway plays coming back
• Report: 'Star Wars 7' won't be based on the books
• Dramatic debut: Babies born amid historic storm
• Elephant can speak Korean — out loud

Month 11 - Recap

My darling, busy little Bear,

It only took 11 months, but we finally got you to do your first 'trick'.  (Yes, I know that makes you sound like a dog.  No, I don't think you're a dog.  Because a dog probably sleeps more and drools less than you.)  You now raise your arms up to the sky when we ask how big you are.  The only problem is that trick only lasted a week.  Now we can't get you do it EVER.  You also wave - never when we ask you to, of course, but periodically throughout the day, I find you waving at random things.  The one thing we can get you to do fairly consistently is to dance.  It's so awesome.  The rhythm first gets you in your head, then it moves down to your shoulders, and finally you wiggle your hips.  The urge to dance usually hits you while you eat.  Which means mealtimes just got a lot more hysterical.

You also took your first assisted steps this month!  I got you a walker earlier this month and for the first few weeks, you just beat on it with your hand and licked it - pretty standard procedure for you.  But then one day, you figured out how to put one foot in front the other.  And then immediately take a knee.  You've only taken three or four steps at a time, but trust me - that's A-OK with me.  I'm not pushing you to be an early walker.  You'll walk when you're ready.  And then I'll go cry in the corner because my baby's all growed up.

I've started letting you fuss in your crib in the mornings while I get your breakfast.  Because your 'I'm Awake and Still in My Crib so I'm Going to Scream Until You Get Me' Cries are a lot more pleasant than your 'I See You Cutting Up That Banana But I'm Going to Scream and Wail and Yell Until That Banana is Shoved in My Mouth' Cries.  I had forgotten just how impatient babies are.  Sheesh!!  Breakfast time is an uber messy time in our house.  Instead of feeding you yogurt, strawberries, and bananas, I (lovingly, of course) slop it on your highchair tray and let you go at it.  It affords me time to eat my breakfast and drink my coffee, and affords you time to get sticky and messy.  And when the carnage is complete?  You look not unlike a lion who just devoured a yogurt-filled gazelle.  Your hands, arms, cheeks and mouth are dripping with yogurt - and you couldn't be more pleased with yourself.

And in keeping with Smithkid tradition, you're a noisy eater.  Just like Bill Murray.


You're now sleeping a solid 12 hours at night and taking two two-hour naps each day.
...
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HAHAHAHAHA!  MAN I crack myself up.  I am, of course, a big fat liar.  Because you, my darling bear, are a big fat non-sleeper.  Wait.  I take that back.  You're a sleeper.  You're just not an A+ sleeper.  Because it's not like you're getting up four or five times during the night.  You sleep pretty consistently through the night, but you sleep juuuuuuuust shy (10 hours) of long enough.  And your naps are juuuuuuuuust shy (1 hr) of long enough.  Which leaves you juuuuuuuuust shy of pleasant for the hour or two before and after naptime/bedtime.  So you're a solid C sleeper.

I know I sound like a big whiny baby in the previous paragraph.  But in all honesty, this little (non)sleeping adventure of yours has been a good kick in the pants in my relationship with the Lord.  When things are going smoothly and life is good, I often forget to thank Him for His blessings.  But the times when things AREN'T smooth?  Well, those times force me to my knees.  Asking for strength.  For patience.  For the ability to get through the day without freaking out.  Being a mom has been the single most thing that has improved my faith.  Because on those days when I feel like I can't keep my cool, I acknowledge that I can't.  So I don't.  I simply pray and ask God to give me HIS cool.  HIS strength.  HIS patience.  I run out in an instant; He is always full.  One of my prayers for you and Natalie is that you'll both learn from an early age not to rely on your own understanding.  Doing so is how pride and/or discouragement seeps in.  We were made to be neither prideful nor discouraged.  Recognizing the blessing you are and acknowledging 100% from Whom the blessing comes makes this mommy both proud [the good kind] and encouraged.

Hugs and smooches,
Mommy & Daddy

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Headlines for October 9, 2012:

• Romney Surges in Popularity After First Debate
• Sandusky Claims Innocence, Sees Plot
• Hong Kong Couple Sues Over Sons' Harvard Rejection
• Long-Missing Colo. Marine Buried With Full Honors
• Roach-Eating Contest: Florida Man Dead
• Van Der Sloot Lawyer Denies Pregnancy

September 2012 - Recap

My sweet doll,

When I pick you up from preschool, your teacher always tells me something funny (or embarrassing) you said to her.  My favorite one so far is when you and one of your friends were playing outside at the playground.  Your friend started climbing up the slide (something I refuse to let you do - not because you could fall [which you could], but because I don't want you to be a punk kid who goes up the slide and prevents other kids from going down the slide).  You immediately went to your teacher and said "Ms. Kayla, my friend is climbing up the slide!!"  Ms. Kayla then says "Natalie, are you tattling?"  You say "Oh no ma'am, I was just reMINDing you.  Just reMINDing you."  *facepalm*

Speaking of tattling, I'm working really hard trying to get you to stop.  There's a fine line between tattling and telling me if something really dangerous is happening.  I don't want you to NOT tell me things, but I also don't want you to be a meddling little nosy-rosy who fills me on every little time-out in preschool.  A few of my friends call it "informing" and "reporting" instead of "tattling".  You are most definitely an informer.  And a reporter.  Aaaaaaand, quite frankly, a tattler.

Your teacher calls you her "little Momma".  You keep track of what everyone is doing and make sure everyone is behaving.  Hmmm ... that sounds just like what your teacher's job is.  So how about we let her do it - because she's really quite skilled at it.  And you keep doing your job of finger painting, playing at the playground, and putting puzzles together.  And eating.  Because your teacher also calls you the best eater in class.

I have to admit, I'm kind of digging making your lunch.  I don't imagine it'll last for years and years (or even months and months), but I really like it for now.  And I hope you don't get made fun of for what I pack - because it's not a typical 'fun' kid lunch.  You usually have string cheese, a few pieces of turkey, veggies (usually some combination of cucumbers, bell peppers, green peas, sugar snap peas, carrots, or celery).  I'll also stick in a few dried figs for 'dessert'.  I'm glad you like them, because YUCK.  They taste like big, gnarly raisins (and I haaaaaate raisins).

I've been going to the gym a few times a week, and while I usually go while you're at school now, you still ask me how my workout was.  And I'll be darned if you don't call me out if I "only" exercise on the treadmill.
You: What did you do at the gym, Momma?
Me: I walked on the treadmill.
You: What else?
Me: (slightly huffy) That's it!
You: What do you mean?  You didn't do anything else?
Me: Nooo ...
You: Well why not??  Why didn't you lift weights or exercise on the elliptical too?
Me: I got a good workout on the treadmill!
You: Oh.  Well maybe next time you'll lift weights.
Me: [in my head] Oh.  Well maybe next time I'll eat your dessert and you won't get any.  So there.

You've been quite cuddly this month.  Granted, your version of 'cuddly' is still probably light-years away from what is typically thought of as 'cuddly', but I'll take your version any day of the week.  You've given me lots of impromptu hugs and kisses, and snuggled up next to me for longer than four seconds at a time.  After one of your impromptu hugs, I smile and ask "Now how did you know I needed a hug just then?"  You giggle and say "Because it's the afternoon.  And you need an afternoon hug!"  Preach it, baby girl.  Your mommy always needs afternoon hugs.

I feel like I've put this in every recap for the past 10 months, but it's still so true.  You are so sweet to Charlie.  I can't tell you how much joy I get from watching you two together.  You love performing for him, reading to him, and making him laugh.  He thinks pretty much everything you do is fantastic, and you take full advantage of that.  You don't mind if he (accidentally) pulls your hair, you think it's funny when he crawls on top of you, and you love showing him the pictures in your books.  Your latest favorite thing is to have Charlie keep you in company in the bathroom while you, um, take care of business.  You don't want me or Daddy in there, but you roll out the proverbial red carpet for Charlie.  And he's more than happy to oblige.  And I am, too.  Because me?  I'm all for the Smithkids bonding over poop.

Hugs and smooches,
Mommy & Daddy

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Headlines for October 1, 2012:

• Obama Leads on Expectations – But the Race Itself Stays Close
• Diaper Shortage Looms After Explosion
• American Airlines Seats Become Loose in Flight Before Emergency Landing
• Fla. Teacher Accused of Trying to Hire Hit Man
• 3 US soldiers among 14 killed in Afghan bombing
• Maya prophecies: What were they thinking?

Month 10 - Recap

AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH. AAAAAAAAEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE.UUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUGGGGGGGGGHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH.  Yep.  That about sums up this month.  You are so NOISY, dude.  Holy cow.

Baths.  Yep, you still hate 'em.

Your favorite thing this month has been playing with (ie: terrorizing) Natalie's doll house.  And God bless that girl because she's completely fine with it.  You crawl to her dollhouse, go all Chuck-zilla on it, and Natalie just sits beside you, queitly setting back up what you destroyed.  It's not uncommon for me to hear Natalie say "Whatcha doing, Charlie Bear?  Oh, you're chewing on Dora's mommy?  Aww, you're such a funny little bear!"  She's immensely patient with you, and it does my heart so much good to see you two playing together.

You had your nine-month well-baby appointment this month.  Your head is in the 98th percentile (big shocker); your height is in the 78th percentile (another shocker).  But your weight?  In the 24th percentile.  Twenty-fourth!!!  I swear the scale had to be wrong because you look nothing if not chunky and well-fed.  Daddy takes this '24th percentile problem' as his personal mission to bulk you up.  He's ready to introduce you to the wonderful world of Krispy Kreme, fried chicken, and milkshakes.  Daddy's so silly.

You're a champion crawler now.  No more Army Crawl for you, my boy.  Oh no, you're on all fours now and DUDE are you fast.  I turn my back for a second and you're halfway down the hall, looking for something to stuff in your mouth.  Natalie and I like to get on either end of the hall and have you crawl back and forth between us.  You think it's a fabulous game.  Some of your other favorite games?  Rip Mommy's Glasses of Her Face.  Pull Mommy's Barette Out Of Her Hair.  Wipe Your Icky Nose on Mommy's Shirt.  Scream Like a Loony Tune When Mommy Puts You Down on the Floor.

Based on that last game, it's safe to say that separation anxiety has totally kicked in.  Before, you were all too happy to be left in the church nursery or the YMCA nursery.  As long as someone was interacting with you, you didn't care who it was.  But now?  It must be Mommy.  At all times.  And if I'm NOT there, you poke out your pitiful bottom lip and fly headfirst into the Depths of Despair.  I know it's completely normal for your age, so it doesn't surprise me.  Overwhelm me, yes.  Surprise me, no.

Speaking of overwhelming ... congratulations, my sweet bear.  You made it 10 months before I wanted to sell you to the circus.  This month has definitely been the most trying one so far; to say I'm weary is an understatement.  So your sister threw up all over me all the time and had horrible colic.  But was a great sleeper.  And you?  You're a mellow little dude (for the most part ...).  But your sleep schedule leaves a lot to be desired.  Go figure, right?  I put you to bed around 7:30pm and you wake up at 5:30am.  Ready for the day.  At 5:30.  Five.  Thirty.  In the morning.  Ready to go.  Okay, so here's the thing.  I don't mind getting up at 5:30am.  If I had my preference, I'd get up at 5am or 5:30am every day so I'd have time to eat my breakfast, drink my coffee, and do my morning devotion in peace and quiet.  But you think that idea is ridiculous.  And you make it verrrrrry known.  Now I understand that having a baby who sleeps 10 hours at night is nothing to complain about.  I would just prefer that your 10 hours occurred between 8:30pm and 6:30am.  The other problem with your sleep schedule is your naps (or lack thereof).  You get up at the crack of dawn (actually, I take that back.  Dawn has yet to crack at 5:30am.  Even DAWN thinks 5am is too early.  Take the hint, kid.) so you need a morning nap pretty early in the day.  I don't mean to compare you and Natalie (but here I go), but I distinctly remember her taking three-hour naps in the morning.  But you?  You rarely sleep longer than an hour.  You (and Natalie) take an afternoon at 1pm.  You rarely sleep more than an hour-and-a-half.  So because you wake up so early and refuse to take decent naps, you become a PILL by about 6pm.  I would so put you to bed then except then you'd probably wake up at 4am.  And I've even endured the misery of keeping you up until 8 in the hopes you'll sleep in, but alas, no.  You still wake up at 5:30.  Except then, you've only had 9 hours of sleep, so you become an even BIGGER pill by that evening.  I've tried to put you down for a third, late afternoon nap but you've totally vetoed that idea.  So to summarize, yes, I'm happy you sleep 10 hours at night.  I'm not even that bent out of shape that you get up at 5:30 (I'm a little bent, though).  What I take issue with is that you're a horrible nap taker.  I love naps.  Daddy loves naps.  Natalie won't admit it, but she loves naps too.  So hop on the bandwagon, kid.  Because if you don't, you might be the latest thing that Ringling Brothers shoots out of a cannon.  And I mean that in the nicest, most loving way possible.

Hugs and smooches,
Mommy & Daddy

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Headlines for September 9, 2012:

• Chicago teachers to strike for first time in 25 years
• Obama motorcade cop hit by pickup truck, killed
• Broncos close strong, make Manning's debut a win
• Ryan Reynolds and Blake Lively get married
• West Nile cases climb 25 percent in a week
• The biggest gas guzzlers on the road

August 2012 - Recap

I'm no doctor but I'd be willing to bet you'd be diagnosed as having highly sensitive hearing.  Loud noises seem to really REALLY bother you, especially public toilets.  You're fine with using them but you ask no fewer than 10 times that I wait until you're off the toilet and have your ears covered before I flush it.  Despite my constant reassuring, you still ask over and over.  Granted, I know I'm scatterbrained at times, but I know beyond a shadow of a doubt that you'll dive headfirst into Panic Meltdown Mode of the Highest Order if I flush the toilet and you don't have your ears covered.  Thankfully you don't require that everyone in the adjacent stalls warn you as well before they flush - except if you know them.  If you know the person, you'd like for them to warn you before they flush.  And if it's an automatically flushing toilet, you start getting really nervous until I reassure you that I'll cover the sensor and keep it covered until your ears are properly covered.  Despite hating the noise from public restrooms, you have no fear about walking into them.  As soon as we walk in, you want to know if the flushing is going to be loud and if it's going to do it automatically.  Once your ears are properly covered and the toilet is properly flushed, it's time to wash your hands.  All right all you Tree Huggers out there, I get why you like the hot air hand dryers.  It saves on waste, it's more cost effective, I understand all that.  But do you know what ELSE they do?  They freak the living DAYlights out of my girl.  And don't even get me started on that horrible XLERATOR dryer that sounds like a jet engine.  It freaks ME out and I have average hearing.  If there aren't any paper towels, I won't turn on the hot air dryer for you - I'll go back into a stall and pull off a handful of toilet paper or have you wipe your wet hands on your shirt before I turn on the dryer.  I say all that to say this: for someone who appears to have highly sensitive hearing, you sure seem to have a hard time hearing me when tell you it's time for bed.  You goober.

You ask questions to Daddy and me verrrrry differently.  Let me paint you a picture.

You: Mommy, why are the windshield wipers going really fast?
Me: Because it's raining really hard.  (Seriously, Florida Summer, ENOUGH with the rain.)
You: Why?
Me: Well, because there's lots of rain in the clouds and it needs to fall somewhere
You: But why is it not raining really really REALLY hard?
Me: Because there's not a super duper lot of rain in the sky, just a regular lot of rain in the sky.
You: (smiling, because you SO know what you're doing ...) What are windshield wipers?  What's rain?  What's the sky?  What's 'regular'?
Me: *brain exploding*
Daddy: *giggling like a little girl*

Same scenario, different parent.

You: Daddy, why are the windshield wipers going really fast?
Daddy: Because it's raining really hard.
You: Oh, ok!
Daddy: *gives me a smug look*
Me: *glares at Daddy*

Either you feel Daddy has a more authoritative voice or you just like hearing me scramble for answers (because I really, really try to give thoughtful answers and not 'because I said so' ones), but seriously. These are what conversations are like in our house.  It's a wonder I'm not in a padded room somewhere.

You also want to know about future conversations.  Again, I'll paint you a picture.

You: Momma, how come I can't run when I'm holding a fork?
Me: Because if you fall, you'll get poked with the fork.
You: And what will I say?
Me: Probably something along the lines of 'OWWWWWWW!'
You: And then what will YOU say?
Me: Um, probably "Oh sweetie, I'm so sorry you're hurt'
You: Will I cry?
Me: Yes, probably.
You: Why?
Me: Because getting poked with a fork hurts!
You: Will I cry a lot or a little bit?
Me: Probably a lot.
You: Why won't I cry a little bit?
Me: Well, you might.  But I bet you'll cry a lot.
You: A LOT lot or just a little lot?
Me: A lot lot.
You: What will you say when I cry?
Me: I'll say 'Oh sweetie, I know that must have hurt.'
You: What will I say?
*this line of questioning continues ad nauseum*

Again, same scenario, different parent.

You: Daddy, how come I can't run when I'm holding a fork?
Daddy: Because if you fall, you'll get hurt by the fork.
You: Oooh yeah, I don't want to get hurt.
Daddy: *again with the smugness*
Me: *again with the glare-ness*

On more than one occasion this month, you've gone over to Charlie and said "Hey Charlie Bear, come to my room for some 'Nattie-Charlie Time'!"  It is so, so adorable.  Charlie would like nothing else than to play in your room.  I can't wait for the time to come where I don't have to come supervise, but for right now, I do.  Because there are approximately 14,000 things in your room that are the exact size of his trachea.

You had your first day of preschool this month - and you did GREAT! You weren't necessarily thrilled to walk into the classroom, but that didn't surprise me.  I don't think you'll be the kid who's ever super jazzed about being dropped off - whether it's Sunday School, preschool, or medical school, I think you'll always be a little hesitant. But your teacher said you were awesome.  You participated in everything except playing at the playground ... you told me "I just wanted to check it out today.  I'll play another day."  I so hope preschool will be good for you.  My prayer is that you'll become more confident in yourself and make some new friends.  I wish you were as confident in yourself as I am.  Because you fascinate me.  With your grown-up words, your never-ending curiosity (incidentally, I won the Neverending Curiosity award when I was in 1st Grade.  Boo yah.), and your fantastical imagination.  I find myself thinking about the future, and wishing I could just catch a glimpse of what you'll be like when you're older.  I pray often that Daddy and I will raise you to be the woman that God created you to be.  I so can't wait to see what the Lord has planned for you, because, listen up, my girl. With the combination of your hilarious sense of humor (you're welcome for that, by the way ...), your sensitive heart, and your sharp mind, you'll be quite a force to be reckoned with.

You gave me one of your few, unprompted "I love you, Momma"s this month.  You're more than willing to reply with an "I love you, too", but rarely do you go first.  And you did this month.  Several times.  And of course, I had to inform you that I loved you more.  And you, of course, had to inform me that no, you loved ME more.  And then I had to inform you that no, I loved YOU more.  Ahhh ... if only this was ever the extent of our 'arguing' in your lifetime.  Please know that when you're driving me loony tunes, when you're a gigantic Bossy McSassyPants, when you won't take a nap, when you pitch a fit in the middle of Target, when you tell me that you don't like the food I cook, I still love you more.  Always.

Hugs and smooches,
Mommy & Daddy

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Headlines for September 1, 2012:

• Flood threat at troubled La. canal lock eases
• Melting glacier reveals World War I ammunition
• College Football Talk: Alabama shows it is still the best
• Monster truck mishap: 3 in Ore. hospital
• Even after chair skit, Obama says he's a 'huge Clint Eastwood fan'

Month 9 - Recap

Oh my sweet, funny little Bear,
You are now dual-toothed and impressively mobile.  You've fully adopted the Sliding-On-Your-Tummy Method, deciding that the ol' Hands-And-Knees approach is passe.  Your method is a mixture of an Army Crawl and a I'll-Ignore-My-Left-Leg-So-I'll-Just-Use-My-Right-Knee-and-Right-Toes-To-Help-Propel-Me-Along.  You like to get up on your hands and knees and you'll sometimes crawl a few steps like that, but you always end up flopping down on your belly and continuing on your merry way.  You're a kneeling rockstar and you can also pull yourself up to a standing position.  How is it that you, my tiny little bear, are already pulling yourself up?  I swear I was JUST writing your birth story.  Which I now have to go reread ...

I think you're going to be a climber.  A mischevious little climber.

You still roll your feet.  You did this when you were itsy bitsy and you still do it now.  When you sit someplace where you can dangle your feet, you roll your feet around and around at the ankle.  It's really funny.  It's also an excellent Good Mood Detector.  The faster you roll your feet, the happier you are.

I'm enormously impressed with your pincer grasp.  It seems like the first time I put some Puffs in front of you (three or four months ago), you immediately knew what to do.  It only took you two or three times before you figured out how to pick them up and successfully deposit them into your mouth.  You're a Smith boy, and Smith boys love their groceries, so it only makes sense that you would be an excellent food picker-upper.

Hey, you know what's annoying?  How you rip off your bib every single time you eat.  Every.  Single.  Stinkin'.  Time.  [Seriously, Bib Manufacturers, is it possible to make a bib that's Velcro can withstand a 9-month-old tugging on it?]  Daddy finally suggested that I safety pin the ends of the bib together.  And I did.  And while that stops you from ripping it off, it does NOT stop you from turning your bib over and upside down and sideways and whatever else way you can think of to make a mess.  You also like to drop food on the floor.  See, I had a girl first.  And she wasn't messy.  When I put a bib on her, she kept it on.  She didn't like to get messy.  She rarely dropped food on the floor on purpose.  But you?  YOU?  You're a yuck bucket.  A messy, messy yuck bucket.  A cute yuck bucket, sure, but a messy, messy yuck bucket nonetheless.

Speaking of the girl, you ADORE her.  You couldn't think of anything more fun than playing with her.  She's a great sport and does really well at bringing you toys to play with.  And she lets you play with most of her toys (I firmly believe that she should have one or two special things that are just hers and she shouldn't have to share.  I'll have the same rule with you - you get to pick one or two toys that you don't have to share.  However, those toys shouldn't be paraded around the other one to make them jealous.  You have to play with those toys in your room.)  Anywho.  You get so excited when she bounds into the kitchen in the morning, squealing "Good MORNING, Charlie Bear!  Did you have a good sleep?  Didja?  DIDJA?!!" And you two giggle at each other while you're eating.  It's slightly aggravating as meal times take forEVER now, but it's also ridiculously adorable.  I love that you two are so amused by each other.

You hate baths just like your sister.  That can't be a coincidence, right?  I must be a bad bather.  I'm thinking of hiring someone to take over Smithkid baths.  Because really, this is just ridiculous.  You have a cute yellow duck and the water is the right temperature.  I'm using water and not hydrochloric acid.  Your washcloth is nice and soft - not made out of glass shards.  All of these are ingredients for a good bath, right?  Negative, Ghost Rider.  You scream the whole time.  And the acoustics in the bathroom make your screeches sound even more terrible.  I've got the speed of a NASCAR pit crew come bath time.  Get in, get out, be done.  Because munching on freshly-bathed baby cheeks is way more fun than listening to you regale me with how much you hate baths.

You're still not the best sleeper.  You're definitely better than you were (Mr. IMustGetUpFiveTimesEveryNightWhenI'mSixMonthsOld), but I hope you continue to get even better.  You tend to, um, evacuate your bowels at the most inopportune times (like 5am), and you appear to be extremely sensitive to sitting in your own filth.  Makes sense, sure.  But so does evacuating your bowels when the sun's up.  Silly head.

You're jabbering a lot lately.  You love to say "dadadadadadadadadadadada" and you always seem enormously impressed with yourself when you're done.  I'll have to look back through Natalie's recaps to see when she said "Dada" on purpose - I think she was close to your age.  I wonder what you'll call Natalie.  "Natalie" seems like a big feat for a munchkin.  Maybe "Na" or "Nat".  As long as you call her something nice, and as long as you refer to me as "Dearest Mother, Fairest Lady, and Best Cook in All the Land", you'll be A-OK.

Hugs and smooches,
Mommy & Daddy

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Headlines for August 9, 2012:

• Bolt, Blake set for 200-meter showdown
• FBI: Sikh temple gunman killed himself after being wounded by police
• Walsh, May-Treanor Win Gold in All-American Final
• High School Sweethearts' Class Ring Recovered After Nearly 40 Years
• Olympic Competitor Kirstin Holum Gave Up Gold for God
• Mars Crater Looks 'Earth-Like'
• Wallenda Books Major Tightrope Walk

July 2012 - Recap

So you read your first non-memorized word earlier this month. It floored me. Absolutely floored. You're kind of a letter and spelling freak anyway, spending much of your time sounding out letters and reading out loud the books you've memorized. But this was the first time you, on your own, saw a word, pronounced each letter, and then strung the sounds together to make a word. We were watching Good Morning America (Momma loves her some GMA) and for the weather segment, they showed a map of the US. It's been annoyingly, achingly, and miserably hot this summer and on the map was the word HOT (complete with little flames shooting out of each letter). You saw the word and proceded to break it down. "Huh ... Ahhh ... Tuh ... HuhAhhTuh ... HuAhT ... Hot ... HOT! Hey MOMMY! That says HOT!!!!" Perhaps I went a little overboard with my excitement (it's a big deal, kid - back off!), because after the 3rd or 4th "I'm so proud of you, baby girl!", you said "Um, Mommy. It's okay. Take a deep breath."

You were on a big Super Why kick a few months ago, and while you haven't seen an episode in a while, you still sing one of the songs from the show. One character (Wonder Red) teaches about rhyming. She'll say a word, like HAT. Then she'll say something like "Oooh, HAT is an AT word, and I love AT words. It's time to rhyme. AT, CAT, BAT ... wonderific, you're terrific ... FAT, SAT, MAT ... wonderific, you're terrific ... AT!" So you like singing that song a lot. Except that you take some creative rhyming licensing. Case in point: JESUS! You say "Oooh, JESUS is an ESUS word, and I love ESUS words. It's time to rhyme. ESUS, MESUS, BESUS ... wonderific, you're terrific ... WESUS, MESUS, FESUS ... wonderific, you're terrific ... ESUS!" I can't say I blame you, though. Jesus IS the best ESUS word.

The Olympics are on, and let me just tell you this straight out - I am an Olympics FREAK. I love them. I'll pretty much watch any and every event (though I'm not jazzed on boxing), but my favorites are gymnastics, swimming, and diving. We don't watch a whole lot of TV during the day - a show or two after breakfast and another show or two after naptime is the max I'll let you watch. But when the Olympics are on? Well, that rule gets shoved under the rug for a few weeks. Because there's Water Polo to watch! And Badmidton! And let's not forget Table Tennis! I have to admit, though, that you aren't all Olympic-y like I am. Only diving and gymnastics hold your attention. And that's A-OK with me. You think it's awesome when "those big girls dive into the water all by themselves. Look, Momma, they're not scared!!" And you get SO excited to watch the gymnasts fly though the air. You wonder why the gymnasts keep switching between the high bar and the low bar. You think balance beam dismounts are equivalent to falling and want to know what the gymnast's mommy is going to do to make her feel better. You love their sparkly leotards. One of my most treasured memories is watching the women's gymnastics team compete in the 1996 Olympics with my two best friends from kindergarten. Remind me to tell you about that one day.

Okay, I don't know what's gotten into you (besides simply being three and a gigantic wackadoo) but you're on this kick of taking things from people - not necessarily 'hiding' since it's usually out in the open or easily find-able, but you take things from one room and put them in another room. It drives me BANANAS. (Hm ... I guess I've answered my question as to why you do it ...) You take the hand soap, your toothbrush and toothpaste, your dental floss, your hairbands, and whatever else you can find from your bathroom and put them in your room. Sometimes the things are just sitting on your bedroom floor, other times they're stuffed in your dresser drawers. You take Daddy's hair brush from his counter and put it in the kitchen. You take the hand sanitizer and put it your toy box. More recently, you took the cheese from the counter as I was making grilled cheese sandwiches. I don't think you quite understood (or maybe you did ... because, as I've said often, you're a punk) what you were doing. The only thing you accomplished was to have grilled buttered bread for lunch as opposed to grilled cheese sandwiches. 

You've started calling Charlie "Chuckie Banana". You find this positively hilarious.

You're starting to pronounce your Ls!! I'm a little heartbroken since I think there are few things more adorable than hearing your Ls as Ys. But I knew it had to happen eventually. And I'd so prefer you start doing it now rather than be potentially teased for it when you're older (don't worry, there are plenty of other things you have to be teased about when you're older ...) You speak a lot slower when you pronounce your Ls properly. You're not used to speaking in this new fashion, so you're very deliberate and focused when you do it.

You are such an amazing big sister. Oh sure, you still yell when Charlie cries (my rule of "If you can't say anything to help Charlie, then please don't make any sounds" is a hard one for you to remember), but seriously, kid, you floor me with your sweetness. More than once, I've found you on the floor with him, reading to him or singing to him or letting him grab your hair. And you insist on coming in his room with me when I get him from his naps, and seem genuinely excited to see him. The look on Charlie's face is too much for words. It's a mix of pure admiration and pure enjoyment (and also pure slober, but that's a given when you're dealing with the Bear). He is verrrrry interested in your toys now. You're usually okay with it (there are those moments, of course ...) And at least temporarily, I've kept you from freaking out if (who am I kidding - when) Charlie knocks over a tower you're building. I can see you're about to whine, but then I clap my hands and cheer "Yay Charlie! You did it! Good job, Buddy!!" You start joining in the cheer-fest and immediately begin making another tower for him to knock down. I know that's not completely fair to you - you worked hard building that tower and I essentially gave Charlie a high-five for knocking it down. But I'm trying to teach you to roll with the punches, to relax, to be good natured when things don't go as planned. And in trying to teach you these things, I'm trying to teach myself these things too. We'll learn together, you and me.

I've decided to make a new rule - you and your brother must be tickled to the point of belly laughs at least once a day. Your belly laughs are so good for my soul, and on those days when I feel like a bad mommy or you're acting very, um, three, hearing you and your brother laugh is like a little shot of adrenaline. A little reminder to stop taking myself (and my mothering skills - or lack thereof) so dang seriously. Love covers a multitude of sins. And I submit that the Bible should have a little footnote after 1 Peter 4:8 to say "Also a good cover-er? Belly laughs." 

Hugs and smooches,
Mommy & Daddy

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Headlines for August 1, 2012:

• Chick-Fil-A Supporters Plan Appreciation Day
• Another Needle Found in Airline Sandwich
• Obama campaigns in Ohio
• Olympic gold was their destiny after all (Go Women's Gymnastics Team! Woo hoo!)
• Lochte, Phelps advance in 200 IM at Olympics

Month 8 - Recap

Happy 2/3 year, my sweet Bear (we like reduced fractions in this house ... seeing 8/12 would give me the willies).

I wasn't sure I was going to be right, but you rallied in the last week of this month - you are now no longer toothless or immobile.  Granted, I can hardly see your one tiny tooth.  But truuuuuuuust me, I feel it.  With my finger, and um, with other things.  Your sister bit me a grand total of two times.  She quickly learned that biting meant that Mommy closed up shop, so to speak.  You, however, aren't phased by me closing up shop.  You giggle and simply wait until it's time to eat again.  Punk.

You're not technically crawling, but you're definitely going from Point A to Point B.  You haven't quite figured out that you need to be on your hands and knees to crawl - you're happy inchworming along, flipping and flopping using your toes and elbows until you reach your intended destination (usually Natalie's shoe - you find them tasty.  I find that 'ew'.)  Natalie is your biggest cheerleader.  When she sees you start to move, she claps and squeals "Come on, Char-yee Bear!  You can do it, Buddy!" (wait a few seconds) "Heeeeeeey!  Waaaaaaaaait!  That's MY toy!  Char-yee!!!  Don't crawl to MY toy!!!!"  Hopefully, by the time you're old enough to read these recaps, Natalie will have learned to share.

You're turning out to be quite a good eater.  You've liked everything I've given you (I almost don't remember all the foods you've had!) except you don't seem to dig peas.  And I can't say I blame you; they're gross.  (Don't believe the lies Aunt KK might tell you.)  The mesh feeder has proved invaluable to me/us.  It soothes your gums and allows you to feed yourself (which is all you want to do - you have no desire to be fed by a spoon anymore).  With Natalie, I had plenty of time to heat up her food and sit and feed her.  With you, alas, I find myself scrambling to feed you (and me and her).  Oh, the burdens of being the second child.  I feel your pain, dude.  Enter the mesh feeder (and cue the lights shining down from above).  Even though your mouth doesn't seem to bother you anymore, I still use the mesh feeder so you can feed yourself (so that I can get Natalie's lunch fixed).  I fear that makes me a Lazy Mommy, but I just prefer to think of it as me being an Efficient Mommy. 

You seem to be starting with the separation anxiety a little bit.  Up until this month, you were perfectly happy me dropping you off in the nursery at church or the gym. But now, your little face crumples into a pile of pitiful despair.  It's heart-wrenching for sure, but I rest easy in knowing that you're a big fat faker and are all smiles and giggles not five seconds later.

Daddy's mommy, your Nana, passed away late last month.  It was (and still is) such a loss, but I'm confident that God has been with us through it all.  His hand was evident in every aspect of her illness, and His mercy surrounded her.  Even though you're too young to remember her, I want you to know - to always know - how much Nana loved you.  Her face always broke into a huge smile every time she saw you, and she often commented on how you look like just how Daddy did when he was a baby.  You loved being held by her, and you always tried to take her glasses off.  Nana ooh-ed and ahh-ed over your sweet smile and your laid-back personality.  Your face was one of the last she saw before she passed away.  What a great way to enter into heaven: with a new body and a fresh memory of your adorable gummy grin, your impossibly chubby cheeks, and your crinkly eyes.

My heart is forever changed by you.  I don't know how to explain it, but 2/3 of a year ago, something inside me changed.  You, my darling big-headed Baby Bear, are amazing.  I'm a better Mommy because of you, Daddy's a better Daddy because of you, and Natalie's a better Natalie because of you.

Hugs and smooches,
Mommy & Daddy

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Headlines for July 9, 2012:

• Sharks Ply Waters off Cape Cod in Search of Seals
• Blind Passenger Causes 12-Hour Emergency Landing
• Man Nears 3 Millionth Mile in '66 Volvo
• US to Get a Reprieve From Heat Wave
• Emirati Officials Find Baby Hidden in Carry-on Bag
• Oscar-winning film star Ernest Borgnine dies, aged 95
• 'American Idol' shakeup could bring in Adam Lambert as judge

June 2012 - Recap

Cue the angels singing!  SOMEbody finally figured how to do EVERYthing in a certain receptacle.  And does it like a CHAMP.  It was touch and go there for a while though.  I was afraid I'd have to sell you to the circus or something.  Because trying to convince a stubborn-as-a-mule toddler to use the certain receptacle when the stubborn-as-a-mule toddler didn't WANT to use a certain receptacle was, quite possibly, the most maddening experience of my life.  You had convinced yourself that you were scared to do it.  DESPITE the fact that you had already DONE it months before.  We decided to go completely diaper-free after you decided that you'd just hold your, um, business until we put a diaper on you at night.  There was never any motivation to learn to go in the certain receptacle if you just hold out for your trusty diaper at bedtime.  Well I showed YOU.  We went diaper-free and you were all about it.  Super stoked to do EVERYthing in the toilet.  I had a big bag of chocolate ready and waiting to reward you.  Did you go?  No.  Of course not.  That'd be too easy.  What DID you do, you may ask?  Instead of going, you followed me around the house and whined.  WWWWWHHHHHIIIIIIINNNNNNNEEEEEEEDDDDDDD.  Whined that your tummy hurt.  Whined that your booty hurt.  But you had psyched yourself into believing that doing your thing on the toilet was scary.  And that it would hurt.  Which unfortunately was the case.  AFTER YOU REFUSED TO GO FOR THREE DAYS.  Of COURSE you won't feel well if you hold it for that long.  I got so desperate that I gave you juice.  Straight-up, non-watered down juice.  Lots of it.  I had no idea that the effects of fully-leaded juice would be no match for the willpower of my three-year-old.  I had no idea that the effects of fully-leaded juice PLUS suppositories would be no match for the willpower of my three-year-old.  I had no idea that the effects of fully-leaded juice PLUS suppositories PLUS Miralax would be no match for the willpower of my three-year-old.  You know what IS?  Fully-leaded Juice PLUS suppositories PLUS Miralax PLUS an enema.  (Is that too much information to put in your monthly recap?  Probably.)  As I'm writing this, I have a hard time realizing that this happened only a few weeks ago.  Because now?  You are a toilet rockstar.  And since you're way too smart for your own good, you've figured out that since you get chocolate every time you go, you spread out your, um, business-time over the course of the day.  Just to maximize your chocolate intake.  I have to admit, that makes me pretty proud.

All it took was one time in Target's toy section playing with a Barbie cash-register-price-scanner toy for you to become Barcode Obsessed.  You look for them EVERYwhere.  You notice them on your books, your box of hairbands, the box of Triscuits.  When you see one, your eyes open up wide and you have a sly little smile on your face as you say in a sing-songy voice "Momma!  Yook what IIIIIIIIIII see!  It's ... a ... BARCODE!!!!"  You're none too happy about there being an absense of all things barcode on things like apples, your teddy bear, and Charlie Bear, though.  Bob came over earlier this month wearing a black-and-white striped shirt.  When you saw her, you squealed "BOB!  You're wearing a BARCODE shirt!!"
 
You've started to really like writing, particularly smiley faces and the letters 'N', 'A', and 'E'.  You fill up pages and pages with your delightfully out-of-proportion letters and get so excited by your handiwork.  You're welcome in advance, by the way, for naming you with a name that can be constructed completely out of straight lines.  As for the smiley faces, they're pretty fantastic, too.  Except for the whole I-Must-Add-Noses-To-Smiley-Faces idea you adhere to.  I'm a proud, card-carrying member of the Smiley Faces Do NOT Have Noses club, but you, you little trailblazer, insist that every smiley face be be-nosed. 

Far and away, one of your most favorite things to do is to go on a Daddy-Nattie date to Tom Thumb to get lemonade.  Wait.  Scratch that.  You like to get yemmonade.  And I'm pretty sure it's not actually the lemonade that you like; it's the special time with Daddy you love.  You and I don't get lemonade (we could, of course, but I make a point not to.  Lemonade Dates belong to you and Daddy).  In fact, when Daddy brought home a big bottle of lemonade from the grocery store the other day, instead of being super stoked to have lemonade at your beck-and-call, you looked shocked and said "But Daddy!  Now we can't go to the yemmonade store and get it TOGETHER!"  Every time we pass a Tom Thumb, you proudly announce "That's where Daddy and Nattie go to get YEMMONADE!!!"  I love that you recognize a Tom Thumb as the Lemonade Store.  You also recognize Waffle Houses, but that's another story for another day.

While I'm on the subject of yemmonade, you're starting to pronouce Ls properly.  It takes a lot of thought on your part, and you speak really slowly and deliberately, but there are definitely some words that have Ls instead of Ys.  I'm simultaneously proud and bummed.  I do love your 'little girl speech', but I totally get you need to outgrow it before applying to yaw school ...

You have been on a mission this month.  A mission to find all the fire extinguishers and hand sanitizer dispensers whenever we visit Nana.  And being that she lived in an assisted living facilty, there was a plethora of both fire extinguishers and hand sanitizer dispensers.  You love to walk the halls and count every one you found.  You never seem to catch on that the place where Nana lives is one big loop, because when we finish one lap around and ended up at our starting point, you'd continue counting.  I think at one point, you counted 47 fire extinguishers.  (I'm pretty sure that's about 37 too many.)  Then you'd run into Nana's room and report your findings.  She was always excited to hear your report.

Speaking of Nana, this was a really tough month for Daddy and me.  Nana passed away very early on June 24th.  She had Stage 4 lung cancer and end-stage renal disease.  For a few weeks before her death, I was really frustrated with God for 'allowing' her to go through all of this.  Like, God can't you SEE how she feels?  Don't you CARE she feels miserable?  What's the hold up?  Now I know.  He knew EXACTLY how she felt and cared deeply that she felt miserable.  His timing was perfectly perfect.  If He had 'listened' to me, she would have passed away months ago.  And Aunt Lisa and Taylor might have missed seeing her.  Her passing when she did allowed Daddy, Aunt Lisa, Taylor, and Draigen to be there together with her.  She passed away at precisely the right time.  God answered my fervent prayer that she would not be on this earth one second longer than she needed to be.  It was a beautiful example of God's unfailing mercy.

Daddy and I will work hard to remind you how much Nana loved you.  She was so proud of her grandkids and doted on them tirelessly.  You were no exception. She was always tickled by how smart you are, by the wackadoo things that come out of your mouth, and your seemingly endless supply of energy.  When we visited her, we would go outside in the courtyard.  You would immediately want to play Hide-and-Seek with me, and Nana really got a kick out of watching you run around, trying to find the perfect hiding spot.  She was so proud of you when you told her you finally learned how to use the toilet.  She loved seeing what treasures you brought to show her - pictures you colored, your newest book, or your current favorite stuffed animal.  She cherished you, my sweet girl, and I want you to know that with every fiber of your being.


Hugs and smooches,
Mommy & Daddy


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Headlines for July 1, 2012:

• Residents to Tour Areas Devastated by Colorado Blaze
• Mom Who Lost Custody Because of Cancer Spent Final Weeks With Kids
• Student Mauled by Chimp Hoped to Help Abused Animals
• Tom Cruise, Katie Holmes to Divorce
• California cities balk as feds strictly enforce marijuana laws
• 100 and hotter; power failures add to misery

Month 7 - Recap

Ohhh buddy.  You're a movin' and a shakin'.  Well.  Not quite.  More like, you're a rollin' and a reachin'.  And a grabbin'.  And still a droolin'.  This might be your last immobile month.  And last toothless month.

You had your first experience with solid food this month.  And in true Smithkid form, you gave real food an enthusiastic thumbs up.  You've had peas, avacado, sweet potato, butternut squash, and banana.  Surprisingly, you didn't seem to care for the banana.  Natalie approves of your rejection, however, since this keeps her from having to share her bananas.  (FYI: your sister is part monkey).  Speaking of your sister, she totally digs feeding you.  And she's really quite skilled at it.  I mean, I HAVE had to make the Just Because the Spoon is However-Many-Inches-Long, It Doesn't Mean You Should Shove It In Its Entirety Down Your Brother's Throat lecture to her a few times, but for the most part, she's a fabulous food-feeder.  And any time you get to spend with her is a-ok with you.  You think she is epically fabulous. 

In true baby form, you're good at grabbing at things.  And in true baby form, you have complete disregard for whether or not the aforementioned things are attached to someone's body.  Grabbing rattles?  Go for it.  Grabbing your bib?  Knock yourself out.  My ear?  Not so cute when you grab and pull as if you're actually trying to separate it from my head.  My cheek?  While they ARE chubby and ARE easy to grab in fistfulls, they are, in fact, still attached to my face.  And no amount of pulling on your part will change that.  But far and away, your most favorite thing to grab is Natalie's hair.  And in your defense, she DOES dangle her head near you and her hair falls right in the path of your hands.  In her defense, though, it DOES hurt.  I keep trying to explain to her that you're not doing it to be mean, you're doing it to play with her.  Except that logic doesn't fly with your entirely-too-logical-for-her-age sister.

You're sitting up really well now, so I think you've finally figured out how to properly balance your big ol' noggin.  At least for a minutes or so.  Which, given that your head makes up like 97% of your overall mass, I feel is quite an accomplishment.  You'll grow into your head one day.  I'm quite certain of it.  And if not, blame your Daddy.  Big-headedness is a Smith trait.  You can blame your dry skin on me.

You still squEEEEEEEEEEEEEal.  And scrEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEch.  Holy moly, kid.  Seriously, there's no contest to win to become the Screechiest Baby in History.  Wait.  I take that back.  There IS a contest.  And you've won.  So now there's no need to screech anymore.

With Natalie, I love all things hairbows and cute little girly-but-not-overly-so shirts.  With you?  It's plaid.  I love plaid with a fierceness that I didn't know existed until 7 months ago.  I think I do a good job of not going overboard because Daddy hasn't vetoed anything I've put on you.  He rolled his eyes when you were decked out in plaid overalls, but I think that was his secret, manyly of saying "Those are awesome!".  At least, that's what I'm telling myself.

As is common with any parent of a new(ish) baby, I get asked about your sleeping habits a lot.  The answer up until a month ago was met with a glare and a grumble (directed toward you, not the question asker).  For a mellow kid, you sure as heck became anything BUT mellow when it was time to sleep.  The only way I could get you to sleep was to nurse you to sleep.  I love nursing you to sleep, don't get me wrong.  What was rough was when you needed to nurse to go BACK to sleep every time you woke up during the night (3, 4, or sometimes 5 times during the night).  You weren't necessarily hungry, you had just gotten used to nursing-sleep routine.  To preserve my sanity and my ability to be a functioning member of society, I (gently - please don't call DCF) broke you of this habit.   Your pediatrician recommended a book for me to try, and while it was pretty rough for a few weeks, you finally got to the point where you can fall back asleep on your own.  It's amazing how NOT getting up 5 times every night makes for a much happier Mommy and Charlie.  Who'da thunk it.

I said this when Natalie was a baby, and I'll say it again with you - Daddy and I make the best-smiling babies on the face of the planet.  Your smile lights up your whole body.  And when combined with your chubby cheeks, your square jaw, your twinkly eyes, and your dimples (oh those DIMPLES!!) ... man, there's just nothing better.  And being your mom?  Man, there's just nothing better.

Hugs and smooches,
Mommy & Daddy

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Headlines for June 9, 2012:

• Flashlight Bombs Puzzle Phoenix Authorities
• Prince Philip Leaves Hospital
• Click and Clack retiring from 'Car Talk'
• Lindsay Lohan totals Porsche in car accident
• Triple Crown bid ends with injury for Kentucky Derby and Preakness winner
• Far-flung E. coli outbreak sickens 14 in 6 states
• R u crz? Most teens text while driving, CDC says

Laaaaaame ...

So I thought I'd be able to do weekly picture updates of Natalie and Charlie.  Alas, I was wrong.  I think I have to switch to Monthly Smitkid updates instead of Weekly Smithkid updates.  Unless we hire a nanny and a maid.  THEN I'll do Weekly updates.

May 2012 - Recap

My darling peach,
I so cannot believe you're almost three-and-a-half.  That seriously blows my mind.

While you're still very good at identifying singers and song titles, there are those times when you're stumped.  And in those cases, you're not satisfied with simply not knowing.  Instead, you make up the missing information.  This most often occurs in the van.  Case in point:

*a song comes on KLOVE that I've never heard before*
You: Mommy, who sings this song?
Me: I don't know, sugar.  This is the first time I've heard it.
You: Well what's the name of the song?
Me: I don't know, kiddo.  Let's wait and see if they announce what it is.
You: Oh *I* know!!
Me: Oh yeah?
You: Yes.  It's called .... um .... (looking around the van) ... it's, um ... it's called ... GodCarseatBookCheerios!!
Me: You don't say!  Who sings GodCarseatBookCheerios? 
You: I think it's Nata-yee Gwant.  No, no, no ... wait, no ... it's not Nata-yee Gwant.  It's ... um ... (looking around outside) ... it's FireHydwantBirdGwass.  Yeah, FireHydwantBirdGwass.
Me: FireHydrantBirdGrass?  That's a really lovely name.
You: I know.

In addition to making up singers and song titles, you make up names for EVERYTHING we do.  You dabbled in this a few months ago, but now you're a full-on Inventor of Made-Up Names of Activities.  Such as "Momma, yet's pway the You Tickle Me Game Where I Yaff [laugh] and Yaff and I Say Stop But I Don't Wewwy [really] Mean It and You Tickle My Underarm Pitties [thanks Tickle Monster for that adorable phrase] and Then I Fall on the Gwound [ground] and Then I Get Back on the Couch and You Tickle Me Some More and I Yaff and Yaff and Then You Tickle My Feet.  Yet's pway THAT game, okay?

One of your latest favorite things to do is to add.  I know, I know - big surprise, given the copious amount of nerd blood running through your nerd veins.  You're a champ at counting and adding on your fingers (this is a skill that will last a lifetime, as your 31-year-old mother still counts and adds on her fingers ...).  Our time in the car while running errands is frequently spent adding numbers.  Or counting syllables.  You're really big on counting syllables, too.  And your funny prounciation of certain words leads you to believe they have waaaay more syllables than they actually have.  Like 'three'.  One syllable, right?  Au contraire, mon cheri.  You think 'three' has three syllables.  Thuh-wee-eee.  You also think if you say a word quickly, it only has one syllable.  Like 'apple'.  You hold up one finger and say 'apple' as fast as you can.  And you look at me like 'See, Mom?  I TOLD you 'apple' only had one syllable.'  And if you could roll your eyes, you so would.

You also like to spell.  You've gotten quite good at spelling certain words (Natalie, Daddy, Mommy, dog, cat).  You get very, um, creative, when it comes to spelling other words.  Take 'Ita' for instance (Ita, in case you've forgotten is the name of your imaginary friend.  She's sometimes a girl, sometimes an animal.  Sometimes she's 5 and short, sometimes she's 8 and tall.  She's hard to keep up with, that Ita).  This is the latest way you spell 'Ita':  Eldzwrfjiuktmasqhg.  This darn English language and its silent 'e' and silent 'l' and silent 'd' and silent 'z' and silent 'w' and silent 'r' and silent 'f' and silent 'j' and silent 'u' and silent 'k' and silent 'm' and silent 's' and silent 'q' and silent 'h' and silent 'g'.

You're beginning to realize what life is like with a sibling.  For the first six months of his life, Charlie didn't do much (besides the obligatory eat, sleep, and poop).  And you thought it was fabulous.  But now?  While Charlie's not fully mobile yet, he can definitely grab things.  And those things?  They're the most important things EVER and you can't BEAR the thought of him touching them so you SCREECH and YANK things from his hand for FEAR that he'll somehow RUIN your things by LOOKING at them, let alone TOUCHING them.  This is SERIOUS, Momma.  Quit LAUGHING.  I know, I know.  Sharing your toys with a lump who only eats, sleeps, and poops is easy.  Sharing your toys with a former lump who is now a reaching, grabbing, slobbering, ball of big-headed-brother is a different story.  Better get used to it, sista.  Because this brother of yours?  He thinks the sun rises and sets on you.  I can't blame him.  You ARE pretty awesome.  And awesome people don't screech and yank.  So let's work on that, shall we?

When Daddy comes home from work at night, you run into his arms and ask him "Are you going to stay with me for a yong, yong [long, long] time?"  Seriously.  I couldn't make up something that cute if you paid me a million dollars.  To answer your question, yes, Daddy will stay with you for a yong, yong time.  I will, too.  Hope that's okay.  If not, too bad.  Daddy and I are kind of a match set.

Hugs and smooches,
Mommy & Daddy

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Headlines for June 1, 2012

• Bear Disrupts Calif. School Graduation
• National Bubba Day: 10 Famous Bubbas
• Sheep-Carrying Truck Overturns; Sheep Rain on Cars
• Tensions Inside John Edwards Jury Room
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Month 6 - Recap

Little Bear,
Hey, you know what's really cute? Besides your delicious dimples and your tasty toes (and my apparently penchant for alliteration), of course. You like to snuggle. Not for long periods of time (bummer), though, but I'll take it. There are often times during the day where you've got a full belly and an empty diaper, but you're still fussy. And all you need in those times seems to be a hug . I pick you up and you immediately stop crying. You hold on to my arm and start cooing. All you need is two or three minutes, then you're fine going back to your regularly scheduled tummy time (or rather, back time - you still hate being on your stomach). I hear there are babies who like to cuddle all the time, and while I appear to not breed those types of babies, I cherish that you need little periods of some Mommy Cuddles. It's flippin' fantastic.

You've really discovered your voice this month. You like to jabber. And squeal. Squeeeeeeeeeeeeeeal. Seriously, dude, you're killing me with the squealing. You sound like a dilophosaurus, before he spits the nasty goo from his mouth (when you're older, we'll watch Jurassic Park so you can see that scene). You sound like you're crying, but when I go to check on you, lo and behold, you're happy - but squealing like a banshee.

You're consistently inconsistent in how you sleep at night. Sometimes you only wake up once, sometimes you wake up twice (note: I like those nights the least), sometimes you don't wake up at all (note: I like those nights the best). We've had to start you on a swaddle detox program since you ended up rolling over while swaddled (thankfully you did it when you were in the living room and we saw you right away). Your arms are still pretty flail-y and spazzy, so I was worried as to how you'd do without being swaddled. I was pleasantly surprised at how well you did at night. You didn't wake up any more than you did when you were swaddled. Naps, however, are a completely different story. You're pretty much a wretched unswaddled napper. Soooo, yeah. Let's work on that, shall we? Mommy likes naps herself. And Mommy can't take a nap if the youngest Smithkid insists on not napping.

You still haven't cut any teeth, despite the mounds of wet bibs and burp rags that accumulate every day. I could have sworn you would have teeth by now, but so far, no dice. Your gummy smile is so unbelievably charming, though, so I'm fine with your toothless state.

I can't believe you're six months old already. That's half a year! (I know, I'm pretty stellar at math). Your enormous head is still keeping you from being able to sit up well. Your current record is 2 seconds sitting up by yourself without face-planting. But you're able to roll quite well, so I think gone are the days where you stay put. *sigh* I so enjoyed your immobility.

Please don't call DCF, but I took a kid-free trip this month. Yes, the mother of a child who will not take a bottle took a kid-free weekend trip. [I had a good reason - one of my dearest friends graduated Summa Cum Laude from law school] But your Daddy is a marvelous Daddy who insisted I needed a little break from the craziness that is you and your sister. When I protested and said that you don't take a bottle, Daddy laughed and said "He will if you're not here!" And wouldn't you know it, you DID! The first day was the worst - you are one stubborn little punk, and you were highly offended by the bottle. It didn't take long, though, for your hunger to outweigh your stubbornness - and you started drinking from a bottle like a rockstar. I was worried that you wouldn't nurse well when I got back, but you did just fine. I had such a great time on my trip, and I'm so glad I went. I came back feeling refreshed, relaxed, and so ready to see my loves. I admit, I dragged out your first middle-of-the-night feeding when I came back. It had only been three days since I had seen you, but it felt like a lot longer. I held you a little tighter, rocked you a little slower, and sniffed your sweet, little (okay, gigantic) head a little longer. You and your gigantic head melt my heart.

Hugs and smooches,
Mommy & Daddy

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