Tigger? You're off the hook...

Well, it appears I may have been a little hasty in my rants against Disney yesterday. (What? Me? Fly off the handle for no reason? No way!) I'm not so sure Brigid does recognize Tigger, after all. Last night, when I got home from work, Steve once again asked the hated question, 'Brigid, where's Tigger?', and the kid looked down at her heart covered t-shirt, and pulled it out to show me. He followed that with, 'Brigid, where's mommy?', and wouldn't you know it? Exact! Same! Response!

So, bottom line...she still has no idea who I am, but at least I can take comfort in knowing that Tigger isn't so special, either.

Elmo, though? I still hate that little monster.

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We were supposed to be heading to the cardiologist tomorrow for yet another heart check on Miss B, but those goons! They switched doctors on us at the last minute! They tried to stick us with the old guy we went to once, vowing never to return to again! We want the other guy! The one we've been to every other time! The one that we feel comfortable with because he reminds us so much of our friend Nick!

Ok, so I don't really think that's the only reason we feel comfortable with this doctor. He was the doctor we spoke with in the hospital when the heart murmur was first discovered, and he was the one who gave us the all clear after a couple of office visits, when it became clear we didn't need to be as concerned about the hole possibly affecting her lungs. He's just a very nice guy, with a child about Brigid's age, and we relate to him better than the scary old man who seemed to brush off our concerns like they were nothing.

But the fact that I can picture our friendly neighborhood cardiologist doing an impression of Nick, doing an impression of Arnold Schwarzenegger? I don't think it hurts, that's for sure.

(I'm sorry, I like to use humor to deflect tension. And what I'm picturing in my head when we visit with him? Very humorous. It helps you sort of keep it together when they tell you things like 'your daughter may need heart surgery at six-months'.)

(Man, that whole time period sucked. I'm glad that damn hole got smaller.)

(Also? I really hope they have good things to tell us when we finally get in there two weeks from now.)

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While I won't be giving you a breakdown of Brigid's diet every single day (I promise! Boring, much?), I will be doing so today. But it's only because for dinner last night, the kid ate a mushroom omelet (yolks only!) with some pureed garlic cauliflower, followed by apples sauteed in a little bit of butter and cinnamon for dessert.

Seriously? That's what the kids are eating these days?

I don't even eat mushrooms, but she loved them. And Steve is so happy to have someone to cook for, it's ridiculous. Apparently, when you request chicken or ground turkey at every meal, your husband gets tired of providing for you on a daily basis.

Thank goodness we had a kid.

Disney and Sesame Street? You are SO on my list now...

Brigid is becoming amazingly cognizant of her surroundings these days, which I guess is to be expected at the almost 10-month mark. But I think I've come to realize that the kid has more of a selective recognition of things than I thought she would. Obviously, I thought her first associations would be of me and Steve, because, you know, mom and dad should be the most important thing to a baby, like, EVER. Right? Right?!?!?

Wrong.

I'm not entirely sure that Brigid could pick Steve and I out of a line-up, truth be told. Yes, she gets excited when we come home from work. Yes, when she hears our voices or sees us coming from another room, she goes into a full body wiggle of excitement that includes waving arms and squealy giggles. But if you ask her, 'Where's mommy?', or tell her, 'Wave to daddy!', you get nothing. No response. No waves. Nothing.

Now, you change that to 'Where's Elmo?' or 'Wave to Elmo!', and that's a horse of a different color. You'd better believe she knows exactly where Elmo is, whether she's waving like a madman at the Elmo bubble blower that has become a permanent fixture on our kitchen counter or pulling down her t-shirt to show us where his picture is. And I get it. I'm not offended. Elmo is an adorable fuzzy red monster. I can't compete with that.

But THEN!!!

Then, I get home last night, and Brigid is playing with Steve in the family room, dressed in an adorable Tigger onesie. And Steve looks at me with a smirk, and says 'Hey, watch this...Brigid, where's Tigger?'

And wouldn't you know it? That little snot looked right down at her stomach, grabbed at Tigger's face, and pulled her t-shirt out to show me just exactly where Tigger was.

Awesome. Or not, considering she still wouldn't look for me when asked.

But it's fine. I'm over it. If that's how she wants to play it, that's how she wants to play it. I understand now. Woo for Tigger! Woo for Elmo! Eh, whatever, for mom and dad.

Whatever makes you happy, dear.

Just make sure you let me know how good Tigger and Elmo are at getting your dinner together tonight, ok?



PS: Yes, I am bitter about this situation. But no, I'm not so bitter that I won't feed my child dinner tonight in protest against her obvious preference for fuzzy cartoon characters over her own mother.

Also, I'm not so bitter that I feel the need to buy my own giant red t-shirt with Elmo's face on it like some people (named STEVE), in an attempt to bribe my daughter to like me more.

Well, not yet, at least. I'll have to see how effective it is for him, first...

Is it too early to use the 'no dessert for you' threat?

If your meal options were a chicken and vegetable casserole made by your dad (see also: grilled cheese sandwich, homemade spaghetti and meatballs, cottage cheese with fruit) or some store bought combination of pureed meats, vegetables, starches, and goodness knows what else, wouldn't you choose something from behind door #1? I'm going to go ahead and assume you would, because if it was my choice to make? I would most definitely run far, far away from anything including pureed meats.

Even if the chicken and vegetable casserole did spend enough time in the food processor to come out looking like...well, like food processed chicken and vegetable casserole, I guess.



My child, on the other hand, she's having some trouble letting go of the pureed meats. Well, maybe it's not even that, since she hasn't exactly been clamoring for the purees lately, either. Maybe it's just that she's becoming a bit of a picky eater, this kid. And since Steve or I usually end up wearing something she's not all that into eating, I'm not very happy with this turn of events. We'd been slowly trying to introduce table food into Brigid's diet over the last couple of months, but when we went in to see the pediatrician last week, she mentioned that Brigid should basically be off of baby food by the time we head in for the 12-month appointment. So we needed to step it up.

And we have. And it has sucked. A LOT.

Now she's fighting the table food, ignoring the baby food, and becoming too distracted for the bottle. It's like she heard the doctor say she was 80th percentile weight/50th percentile length, and decided she needed to watch her figure. It's becoming a little frustrating, honestly.

There is a light at the end of the tunnel, though. Two nights ago, she did give in to the spaghetti and meatball concoction Steve put together for her, and yesterday for lunch, I'm told she put back an entire quarter of a grilled cheese sandwich. So we'll get there. Eventually. I guess.

And anyway, if all else fails, a kid can always exist entirely on Nilla Wafers and yogurt melts, right?

Right.

Oh, just another milestone. No big deal, or anything...

I don't think I've mentioned this yet, but we officially have a baby with teeth. That's right...teeth, plural. As in, more than one. As in, after two months of relatively textbook teething symptoms, the kid said, 'Screw this, I'm not going through another long, drawn out teething process. I'm just going to pop the second tooth out within a week of the first. Because I can.' And, she did. The first one came through last weekend while Steve and I were out of town, and the pediatrician had to point the second one out to me on Friday morning. As focused as we've been on these missing teeth, you'd think I'd have noticed that the second one had already joined the first, but you'd be wrong. You'd also be wrong if you didn't think I was abnormally excited about the bite marks these new teeth left in the foam toy Brigid was chewing on last night. In fact, I may or may not have had an internal debate with myself on exactly how insanely annoying I'd become if I took a picture of these bite marks, to post on this here website.

In case you're wondering, the rational side that argued I'd be ridiculously insanely annoying to do such a thing won out, so no pictures were taken.

You're welcome.

Nine Month Check-up

Well, now. Another month, another doctor's appointment. And some new measurements to record for posterity...

Turns out, we seem to be maintaining one of our measurements, but it's probably not the good one. Brigid weighed in at 20lbs 14oz, which puts her in the 80th percentile there, but she only measured at 27 1/2 inches, which puts her in the 50th percentile in length. I'm going to call a little bullshit on that one, though...I don't think the nurse stretched her all of the way out. Regardless, we're definitely looking a little chubbier than we are tall.

Apparently, she takes after her mom after all!

Terrible picture, awesome sound...

I know this is sideways, and a little hard to see, but it's too funny not to post. 

Well, I think it's funny.  You may just think I'm an idiot.  But that's a chance I'm willing to take, I guess...

Meanwhile, back at home...

My dogs will need therapy after the three whole nights they spent away from Steve and I.  Brigid, on the other hand, was apparently less than worried about her missing parents.  Sure, she was happy to see us when we got home, but with all of the fun she was having without us, I'm not entirely sure she even realized we were gone.  Apparently, when you get to do things like visit Toys R' Us and play with everything in the store, boring things like mom and dad don't really cross your mind.

Of course, it apparently wasn't all fun and games...

Oh yeah...see if I leave that kid home without me again!

Denver, Part Two

Who wouldn't want to start out their day like this?  

Oh, that's right...anybody who would like to be able to do anything other than lie around for the rest of the day.  Needless to say, breakfast did not end with clean plates for us.  Even Steve had to leave some behind...and Steve hates to leave some behind. 

So sad.

After breakfast, Steve and I went to Red Rocks because neither of us had every been, and one of us wanted to try to work off at least a portion of her breakfast.  And we were greeted with this:  

Rattlesnakes?  Mountain lions?  Poison ivy?  Oh yeah...this seems right up my alley.  Luckily, the worst thing we faced was the sinking Titanic...  

See it?  See the Titanic?!?  I was impressed, mostly because this was the only rock formation where I could see what they named the formation after, but also because I'm just easily impressed.  Steve was not so impressed... 

Damn altitude.  Gets him every time.  (In his defense, though, he was the one that managed to ski straight through the day the entire time we were in Colorado the last time, while I spent significant portions of the mid-day hiding out in our room, so he gets a pass on this one.)

We had to take a little break in the sightseeing Saturday afternoon, because, you know, wedding ceremony and all of that, but imagine our surprise to find out that the chapel was on the same highway exit as the place Steve and I had passed 18 times and were dying to visit?
 

Seriously, from the highway, this place looks like a shopping mall.  It was impressive.  

Every good liquor store needs one of these.

The wedding was beautiful.  The reception was a ton of fun.  The newlyweds looked ridiculously happy.  Steve and I enjoyed our mini vacation.

But still?  

It's good to be home.

Denver, Part One

If a picture is worth a thousand words, then this is going to be a pretty long post, my friends...and honestly, probably not a very good one, either, since these are all camera phone pictures.

So...enjoy.  Or something like that.

Friday was...well, let's just say Friday was basically beer day. And it was a good day. It was also a day that saw Steve and I asleep by 9:30pm, but there you have it. That's just how we roll now that we're old...

We headed up to Idaho Springs (an old gold mining town) Friday morning to do a little sightseeing, a little drinking, and a lot of eating, because we were in vacation mode, and that's what we do in vacation mode.

We started out at Tommyknocker Brewery and Pub, for a pre-lunch beer sampling stop.

(And not that I have anything against morning drinking, but this didn't involve morning drinking...it was 12:15pm when we made this stop, which is 2:15pm home time anyway, so there.)

We were ridiculously full after the beer and sweet potato tater tots (Hello, AMAZING! And that's not just the beer talking...), so we did a little souvenir shopping before the next stop on the tour...and I traveled all of the way to Colorado to find an Irish store in which to buy Brigid a shamrock wall hanging for her room. Let's all agree I have no sense, and move on. Thanks.

We followed that up with a trip to Beau Jo's Pizza, which Steve was very excited about. Instead of taking a picture of the salad bar set-up in two claw foot bathtubs filled with ice, or the pizza with the insanely large crust that the place is known for, I took a picture of this:

What can I say? I like beer in a jar.

We left Idaho Springs to meet some friends who'd flown in that morning, and on our way out, we stopped to admire the scenery.

Actually, Steve and I just wanted to see exactly how cold the water in the Rockies is...

Turns out, it's cold.

Hey, more beer!

Golden, Colorado? Thanks for the refreshments.

We headed back to the hotel after this for a little time by the pool, a quick dinner with some friends, and the aforementioned 9:30pm bedtime. I'd say, all things considered, day one was a success.

Stay tuned for day two (pancakes! mountain lions! big rocks! oh boy!) tomorrow.

Turns out, I still hate to fly...

And, I am officially in Denver.

Woo!

While I was stressing out over the flight and the weather the pilot announced was 'between us and the airport' and the fact that my phone chose today to go on the fritz,* Brigid was apparently bar hopping with her sitters for the weekend.

She looks much more relaxed than her mother, that's for sure. I'm pretty sure that after my mini mid-air freak-out, Steve and I could use a little bar hopping of our own.

I am a joy to travel with, that's for sure.


*As much as I'd like to place the blame for my iPhone problems squarely on Apple and Steve Jobs, it turns out that sticking said iPhone in your sports bra while running in 90 degree heat is not a good idea. Something about sweat and an electronic device shorting out. Who knew? On the plus side, everything is finally dry and back on track. I can now resume pestering my mother-in-law for hourly updates on the baby. WIN!

Baby's first playdate!

My mother-in-law had a little birthday partying to do today, and because Brigid is always up for a good piece of cake, she tagged along.

And apparently, she made a new friend along the way...

No, not Elmo. She and Elmo go waaay back. In fact, I think she was a little pissed when she realized Elmo actually has other friends...

Either that, or someone told her she needed to share, and she wanted no part of all that crap.

No, this is her actual new friend, Lucy...

Looks like fun, no?

Apparently, there was a moment when Lucy was told to give Brigid a hug, and when she did, Brigid laid her head on Lucy's shoulder in return. Which sounds ridiculously cute, but Grandma Karen informed me she was a little slow on the draw, so we missed out on a picture of that.

Not that I'm upset or anything.

*ahem*

Let's just say I know what we'll be practicing around my house when she's staying with me next week...

(Totally kidding, Karen! Love the pictures you sent! You're awesome! Please don't stop watching my kid because I'm obnoxious!)

So sleepy. Again.

Interesting fact of the week: I may be starting to miss the newborn sleep schedule.

Ok, not the newborn sleep schedule, so much, since I didn't sleep for more than 2-3 consecutive hours for the first month or so of Brigid's life, but after that? Those couple of months when I knew I could put her down for the night, and she'd actually stay down for the night? Those were good times. I liked those times.

I miss those times.

I'm not sure what has gotten into this poor child, but we are back to unpredictable sleep schedules and midnight wake-up calls and an overnight bottle here and there, and Steve and I are not enjoying it one bit. See, I think my kid, she's got a temper. And while she knows how to put herself back to sleep when she wakes up in the middle of the night, sometimes she's just pissed off to find herself alone, and she wants to be held while she sleeps. And as sweet as it is to hold Brigid while she's sleeping, 5am comes way too early for me (or Steve, as was the case last night) to spend two hours putting her back down for the third time in one night.

(That frantic, hyperventilating sound you hear? That's my mother-in-law slowly freaking out over the prospect of a weekend alone with my child. I'm sorry, Karen! I'll make sure Steve brings you back something nice from Denver...)

Maybe it's the teeth that are lurking just under the gums that are waking her up. Maybe she's not getting enough to eat before she goes to bed. Maybe she's just testing her boundaries.

Maybe she knows mommy is terrified of flying and thinks a week of no sleep will help her pass the plane ride more peacefully, in an unconscious kind of way.

Or maybe, just maybe, she's simply a baby, and babies are unpredictable, and I just need to suck it up.


This kid is lucky she's so cute...

Bullet Points!

Yes, it’s that time of the news cycle again, when there’s not much going on, but I’ve still got things to say. You know what that means? Bullet points, people! I love bullet points…

• Tooth Watch 2010 continues, with no end in sight. I swear, I can see the tooth (or possibly teeth…at this point I’m expecting about six to come in at once) under the gum, but it just won’t come through. Steve and I are out of town this weekend, and my in-laws are staying at my house with the baby, and I’m starting to get a little concerned about how this whole tooth thing will play out. This might be the first and last time my in-laws volunteer to watch the kid overnight.

Ever.

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• Oh yeah, I am going out of town. Without my kid. For the first time since she made her appearance in this world. Steve and I are heading to Denver for a wedding, which I’m very excited about because I love weddings, I love Denver, I’m ridiculously happy for the people we are going to see get married, and I’m looking forward to a night or two of sleep without the possibility of dog and/or baby wake-ups in the middle of the night.

But still. No baby. At all. For almost three days. Sad.

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• Brigid and the waving at pictures is getting out of control. It's now to the point that a picture of me gets more of a reaction out of her than my actual person does. So while I will be sad to be away from her this weekend, she will obviously be fine.

Not sure how I feel about that.

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• For my entire life, I’ve rebelled against yard work. I hate it with the fire of a thousand suns. I’ll dust and vacuum and wash dishes and do laundry, but I will not step foot outside of the house to so much as water a flower. I. Hate. Yard work.

But recently, I’ve been on this kick to challenge myself in my everyday life. To spend some time outside of my comfort zone, if you will (oh, corporate buzzwords, how I love you!). I don’t know if it has more to do with turning 30, or having the baby, or realizing that I’m pretty much settled in house and career right now, so I need to pick up my thrills through a different kind of change, but I’m working on shaking things up a bit. Nothing major, just small things like re-working my work-out plan to include running. Taking Brigid to the big pool in our neighborhood (and forcing myself into a swimsuit in public…) instead of taking the easy way out and plopping her in the baby pool on the back porch. Yard work.

Nothing says ‘I’m old’ like deciding to change things up by doing yard work.

Anyway, I’ve reached the conclusion that yard work really isn’t so bad. In fact, I actually kind of like it. What I don’t like so much is doing said yard work in 100 degree heat, in sweatpants to avoid the bajillion bug bites the bajillion bugs in my back yard are trying to give me, after a night of a couple of drinks. That’s a little miserable. Other than that, though, things are off to a great start…I may even actually fill the empty planters currently sitting out on my porch for show. I feel like getting crazy.

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• If there is such thing as reincarnation, and we get to choose what we come back as, I want to come back as one of these two fools:

That seems like it would be nice.

Nine Months

It’s official, kiddo…you’ve now spent just as long living as your own separate person as you spent living as a part of me.  I don’t know whether to pat myself on the back for surviving both nine-month stints or sit down to a good cry because this whole passage of time thing won’t stop, or even slow down, no matter how hard I wish it would.  So, maybe I’ll just do a little of both tonight.

Your ninth month was a big one for you, and while I feel like I say that basically every month, this time, I really do mean it.  It’s not that you haven’t had big months of development before now, it’s just that with every passing month, you rewrite the book on what development is.  You are just knocking out milestones left and right these days, and it’s all so crazy to me, how soon you’ve become a real, live, actual person.  Everybody tells you how quickly these things happen, but when it starts happening with your own kid?  Consider my mind boggled.

For crying out loud, you’re crawling now!  And zooming all over creation in your walker!  And pulling yourself up into a standing position using the pack n’ play, or crib, or coffee table, or exersaucer, or whatever else you can get your hands on!  It’s exhausting actually, for you and for me, and while it has led to better naps, it hasn't worked quite so well on the overnight sleep schedule.  So, if we could maybe put a stop to all of the moving…  No?  Ok, fine.  Looks like someone needs to up her cardio minutes, just so she can keep up with you these days.  Thanks for that.

You’re eating cheese and watermelon and cereal and other various foods now, but only because your father insists that it’s time for you to develop new tastes.  If it were up to me, you’d still be eating nothing but baby food, and you had a little incident with a small piece of chicken that I think backs me up, but other people say it just means you’re not quite ready for chicken, not that you’re not ready for anything.  So we continue.  Maybe I’d feel better about the whole situation if you’d sprout some teeth already, but no…you’d rather just taunt us with swollen gums and excessive fussiness every couple of days instead.

We headed to Florida for a few days this month, and you were able to stick your toes in the sand (fun!!) and feel the waves on your feet (not so much fun!!) for the first time.  Turns out, you are a terrible car baby, and you absolutely refuse to sleep in your carseat until you are so exhausted, you physically can’t keep your eyes open another second.  Usually, this seems to hit once you’ve been screaming uncontrollably for a half an hour, so I’m going to have to try to change that up.  I am not so much a fan of the screaming uncontrollably, and it doesn’t appear to do you much good, either.  And yet, that’s become a bigger part of your repertoire this month.

So, that’s been exciting.

You are pretty much the world’s friendliest baby, and you have no fear of strangers.  And really, you have no preference for your mommy over these strangers, either, unless you happen to be extremely tired at the moment.  I think that’s both a good thing and a bad thing, honestly.  You are perfectly happy with anybody that wants to hold you, so I can get a break from your 20+ pounds of baby-ness from time to time, but I don’t get to do the whole dramatic sighing, ‘this kid just won’t let me out of her sight’ thing that I’ve been working on ever since I found out I was pregnant.  And I was getting so good at it, too!

This month, you made your first trip into the office to have lunch with mommy and daddy, and everybody talked about how adorable you are, and how you are definitely your daddy’s daughter.  I tried to pass my genes on to you, kid, but apparently, his were stronger.  Sorry about that.  You are ok with it, though, since you seem to fall more in love with your own reflection every time you see it.  You maintained your love affair with the pool, even though your father insists on dunking you a couple of times, just to get you used to it.  I’m not 100% behind this, but it doesn’t really seem to phase you at all, so I guess we’ll go with it.  You still hate the boat, or at least you hate the life jacket we make you wear when we get on the boat.
 
You clap for yourself when you sit up on your own. You also clap along and pat your belly when we play patty cake.  You love to wave good morning to the baby pictures of your dad and I that are in your room.

You loved Riley until she got so excited to see you crawling towards her that she ran to meet you halfway, and knocked you flat down on the ground.  I think you forgave her pretty quickly, though.  You love the dogs’ toys, and you are more interested in their toy basket than in your own, and when you have your mind set on getting to that basket, you are awfully hard to deter.  But you are awfully hard to deter once you have your mind set on anything, so that’s not really a surprise.  I wonder where you picked up that little trait?

You are funny and sweet and adventurous.  You snuggle and squirm and talk up a storm, even though nobody has any idea what you are talking about.  You say mama, and it makes me so happy, even though I know you don't link that word to me, yet.

Just when I think you can’t get any more perfect, you do.

I love you to pieces, Bug…happy birthday!

Boat Ride, Take Two

Because we, as a family, are gluttons for punishment, we decided to give the whole boat ride thing a second shot over the 4th of July weekend.  It wasn't as bad as our first attempt, and we made it farther than the mouth of the cove this time before we had to turn around, but it still didn't go over as well as I would have liked.

I think, and this is just a wild guess, the life jacket may be the reason we're not so into the whole boating experience...

So, yeah...

...maybe we'll give it another shot...

...when she's 15.

Where's the fire hose when you need it?

Apparently, a 20 minute afternoon nap does not a happy baby make. When you take that crabby baby, and then add daddy's decision to try baby lasagna (with pasta!) for the first time, this is your result:

I think the high chair graffiti in the background is my favorite part.

According to the cause of this mess (yeah, that would be Steve), she wasn't such a fan of the pasta pieces, so a lot of the meal ended up on her face. Then, because she was tired, she spent a lot of time rubbing her eyes.

And obviously, the results were impressive.

Apparently, even Steve's skills at the baby bathing were no match for this mess, since there's still lasagna sauce up her nose and a slightly reddish-colored eyebrow to match. This is definitely her best food related performance to date.

Lessons learned from this experience?

One, naps! Naps are important! There will be no more skipping naps, if I can help it. The sanity of the entire family depends on it.

And two? Baby lasagna sucks.

Happy 4th of July!

Hey, everyone!

Summer rocks, y'all.

Remember when I said she stood up that one time?

So, last weekend, Brigid pulled herself up into the standing position using our ottoman/coffee table one time.  One.  Time.  And we clapped and told her what a big girl she was.

Huge mistake.  HUGE!

Flash forward to Tuesday afternoon.  I put Brigid in her pack n' play so I could go into the kitchen to heat some food up for her (squash, if you're interested in the details...), and this is what I came back to find:

Sure, she was just as pleased as could be by this development.  I, on the other hand, was just imagining how next week I'll turn around and find her on the ground because she's figured out how to pull herself up into a standing position, then launch herself over the side of the whole contraption.  And in my imagination, this will not be a pleasant day.

As if that wasn't enough to stress me out, we had this a little later:

Yeah, I had no part in that one, either.  No part, at all. 

She's on the move, and there's nothing I can do to stop it.

Guess I should probably get back to finishing up that whole baby-proofing thing, huh?