Tuesday, May 31, 2011

The state of things...

So, today seems like as good a day as any to do a ‘State of the Brigid’ address, right? Here goes…

-Brigid still doesn’t really use words. Cars are vroom-vrooms. Monkeys, owls, chickens, and cows are all identified by their respective animal noises. For items that she does feel like identifying by name, the first sound is about all we can expect, which means that determining whether she wants a ball, balloon, or butterfly requires a little extra detective work on our part. My mother-in-law’s dog Olive is identified with a high-pitched ‘aw’ sound, while my dog Peyton is called something along the lines of ‘pay-pay-pay-pay’ and Steve’s black-sheep dog Riley doesn’t even get a name at all.* There are a few other words she uses that we can understand, but that would most likely sound like gibberish to an outside person. She can say M&Ms pretty clearly, though, and her bye-bye, night-night, no, mom-mom, and da-da-da-da-da are all very distinctive. And I’m not concerned with her development. I’m not. Really.

It’s just, well…shouldn’t we be farther along by now? We’re four months out from her 2nd birthday, and, I don’t know, shouldn’t we have all sorts of words we’re using? And shouldn’t we be putting them together in a coherent thought from time to time?

And yes, I’m just as tired of thinking about this whole situation as you are of reading about it. But it just won’t go away. It’s crazy-making, is what it is.

Oh, parenting…

-Brigid has, however, used her big-girl potty successfully. It was just one time, and I’m pretty sure it was just a really well-timed accident on my part (especially since, as a follow-up to her big moment, Brigid chose to pee on the carpet while I was trying to clean out the potty chair), but I reacted like she’d just aced the SATs or something. And I bought her a $15 ball to celebrate.**

-The kid’s eating habits leave a little something to be desired, as she spent all of dinner last night using her fingers to spoon ketchup into her mouth. Ketchup and tomatoes. That’s about it. She did eat a couple of bites of bread and a half a piece of cheese, though, so there’s that. It’s just so annoying. I mean, she looks like her dad. She acts like her dad. But she’s picked up her mom’s picky eating habits. Fantastic.

Seriously, of all of my awesome attributes she could have landed, my preferred diet of bread, cheese, and tomato is the one she went with? At least I am old enough to know that I have to branch out sometimes, whether I want to or not. Brigid hasn’t quite reached that point. Time to pull out the sneaky feeding cookbooks we have on the shelf, because someone is getting cauliflower puree in her next round of mac and cheese.

-Guys, toddlers have opinions. On everything. And they are shrill when they are voicing those opinions. And attitude! Toddlers have attitude. I’m pretty sure she rolled her eyes at me when I tried to pry a hug out of her at bedtime last night.

I am NOT ok with that. I am your mother! YOU WILL HUG ME!

-Her Uncle Greg has taught her how to knuckle-bump. And you’d better make that fist explode at the end of the bump, because she WILL BE EXPECTING IT. She is very particular, that kid.

-My parents bought her a Good Night, Florida Keys book when they were down there for spring break, and on one page, there is a picture of two cars driving along the 7-Mile Bridge, one of which bears a striking resemblance to my own car. Every night (and I do mean every night, as this book is on the current ‘must-read’ list, per Miss B), when we get to that page, Brigid points to that car and says mom-mom. And it cracks me up, every time. And I’m pretty sure that’s why she keeps doing it.

-We’ve successfully navigated the dentist’s office! And by we, I mean Steve and Brigid. Sorry I missed out on that one…

*I really just said that to annoy Steve. Peyton and Riley are both of our dogs. Riley just gets referred to as Steve’s dog whenever she’s in trouble. Which is pretty much whenever she’s awake. When she’s sleeping, she is totally my dog.

**I didn’t mean to buy her a $15 ball. She picked it out on the shelf at Target, and I just assumed it came from one of the $3-$5 bins in the area. Well, you know what they say about assuming, right? Except it just affected me, in this case.


  1. I was shaking my head yes in agreement or understanding with each statement...toddlers are so fun and frusterating!

  2. Yep, I can relate and relate and relate. To Every. Single. Point. I think that's why we love them so much. They keep us on our toes. Oh yeah, and we birthed them. =)

  3. You're so articulate! My daughter is a super picky eater too. One day she'll throw back two slices of pizza, the next day she'll have a handful of cheerios and that's about it.

    I know you're still worried about the talking thing and seriously, this is YOUR space so if you want to come vent here, you do it. We'll read anything you write. Because we like you. :) I really think she's getting better based on what you've written about lately and I don't think you should be worried. Cuz you're not anyway, right? Right. :)

    Come take a look inside A Working Mom's Closet

  4. My kiddo doesn't do much talking either. It's...crazy making, really. But then I run into parents like this weekend--their 3 year old didn't start talking until his younger sister started talking. He was about 2.5. Now he's a chatter box. Which doesn't mean I don't worry, but it does mean I feel slightly less like it's ONLY my kid.


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