Wednesday, May 09, 2012

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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Headlines for May 9, 2012:
  • Gun parts, ammo found hidden inside stuffed animals at Rhode Island airport
  • NOAA reports warmest 12-month stretch on record
  • DHS: Hackers Mounting Organized Cyber Attack on U.S. Gas Pipelines
  • Afghan War Support Hits New Low
  • High Fructose Corn Syrup Debate Gets Sticky
  • Life Spans of Popular Electronic Gadgets

Tuesday, May 01, 2012

April 2012 - Recap

My darling rascal,
A running joke between Bob and me is that there's nothing funnier than a four-year-old girl. Well, in keeping with your over-achiever-ness, there might be nothing funnier (or more maddening - can't forget maddening ... but I digress) than a three-year-old girl. Or, more specifically, MY three-year-old girl.

This is your current favorite joke:

Knock knock
[Who's there?]
What do a wooster and a doggie say?
[Ummm ....]
Cockadoodle bark

While the joke doesn't make complete sense, it cracks me up seeing how it cracks YOU up.

For the past month or so, you've had flowers waiting for me when I pick you up from Mothers' Day Out. And by 'flowers', I mean 'flowery-looking weeds". And let me tell you, they're the most beautiful flowery-looking weeds I've ever seen. Apparently, you spend a chunk of your playground time walking around, scouting out some flowers for me. And when I pick you up, your teacher gives you the Dixie cup o' flowers to give to me. You get so excited, and I promise from the bottom of my heart that I treasure these flowers. They're perfect. They might be covered in dirt and bugs, but I don't care. They're from you. Therefore they're beautiful.

You still love to sing Hark the Herald Angels Sing. Yes, it's May. But who cares? Who can resist hearing Christmas diddies in the spring with lyrics like this:
Hark the heh-wuld angels sing
Gwoh-wy to the newborn King
Peace on Earth and mercy mild
God and sinners, reconciled
Joyful all ye nations rise
Join the twi-vumphs of the skies
With an-jel-ees pose pwo-cway
Cwyst is born in Beth-wa-hem

You also like to sing "I May Never March in the Infantry", "Jesus Loves Me", and "Head, Shoulders, Knees and Toes" sung to the tune of Hark the Herald Angels Sing.

You had your first real dentist appointment this month. You had seen the dentist early last year, but it wasn't for an official checkup. You did so great last year and I hoped you'd do just as well this time. You were a little nervous, but God bless the dental hygienists - they were so sweet to you. You brought your stuffed puppy with you to the appointment, and the hygienists gave your puppy a cleaning first to show you what they were going to do when it was your turn. You didn't want to lie back in the chair for your cleaning, so they let you sit in my lap while they did it. When the dentist came in, you decided laying down was going to be okay. You gripped your puppy with one hand and squeezed mine with the other. The dentist sang a little song to you and commented on how pretty your 'princess teeth' were. You were cavity free (see? Me being an un-fun mom and not letting you eat candy hardly ever finally paid off!) and were walking out of his office proudly holding a sparkly toothbrush and two princess stickers after a whopping 15 minutes. If anyone needs a pediatric dentist recommentation in Pensacola, I can't say enough good things about Dr. Bonnin.

Your prayers are so, so sweet and they make me smile from head to toe. I try really hard not to giggle because I don't ever want you to feel as if I'm making fun of you, or as if your prayers aren't 'good'. Your prayers are perfect, and they are an excellent, living example of what it means to have faith like a child. You thank God for anything and everything, and I know God enjoys every word. What's neat is that you pray completely different when Daddy puts you to bed versus when I put you to bed. When Daddy puts you to bed, you want him to help you with what words to say. When I put you to bed, you (usually) pray by yourself. You always thank God for the day and for His love. Then you procede to kick it Old-School-Wheel-of-Fortune-Bonus-Round style. I understand you probably don't even know what Wheel of Fortune is, regardless of Old School or New School, so let me explain about this particular bonus round. Waaaaaaay back in the dark ages (like the '80s), the bonus round of Wheel of Fortune involved the big winner getting to buy prizes with his/her prize money. The home audience would see a big room full of furniture, electronics, art, and whatnots. The contestant's face would appear in the corner of the TV screen and you'd see him/her scanning the room, deciding what to buy. The dialog went something like this: "I'll take the white wicker dinette set for $800 ... and the ceramic dog for $100 ... and the toaster oven for $170 ..." Would you like to see a video? Well I just happen to have a video! Enjoy:

[Side note - I totally laughed at the 10" TV] Okay, so the scene's been set. You scan your room and thank God for what you see. "Thank You God for my cwothes dat I wear outside ... thank You for my Yeggos [Legos] dat I play with when I get sent to my woom [room] ... thank You for my Emmo [Elmo] chair dat I sit in when I weed [read] my stowwies ... thank You for my dwesser [dresser] that I put my undies in ... thank You for my stuffed aminimals [animals] that I seep [sleep] with ... thank You for my bean bag chair dat I yand [land] on when I jump off my bed ... " Precious, no? And please know that if I had kicked it Old-School-Wheel-of-Fortune-Bonus-Round style when picking daughters, and I had had a room full of goofball girls to pick from, I would have spent every penny of my prize money on one particular goofball girl. You are my Old-School-Wheel-of-Fortune-Bonus-Round grand prize.

Hugs and smooches,
Mommy & Daddy

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Headlines from May 1, 2012:
  • Mark Zuckerberg's New Life-Saving Facebook Tool
  • More Babies Born Addicted to Opiates
  • 'Octomom' Files for Bankruptcy
  • Jessica Simpson gives birth to baby girl
  • Anarchists Plotted to Blow Up Cleveland Bridge: FBI
  • OBL One Year: NYC Security Surge, Body Bomb Worry