Cherish Every Moment

This morning, my mother-in-law and I took Caitlin to this massive garden about 30 minutes from my house, to see all of the spring daffodils before they died off. This is almost every picture I took of Caitlin:

Some ladies asked me at one point if she was running away, and I said, 'No. She's just running.' Because that is ALL. SHE. DOES. 

EVER. 

This afternoon, Brigid facetimed me (in the kitchen) from her playroom (which is JUST DOWN THE HALL FROM THE KITCHEN!!!) to tell me that she was hungry and that she wanted me to bring her a piece of string cheese. 

I, being the terrible mother that I am, made her get up and get it herself, so I hope she learned THAT is not going to fly around here, but still...

You have to admire such a dedication to 'resourcefulness' at such a young age, I guess.

I will never get tired of this...

Caitlin is on the move, nonstop. She jumps from one activity to another, from one place to another. She still doesn't talk, which is partially a bad thing, because she definitely should be talking by now, but also isn't the worst thing in the world, because I can't imagine how quickly her brain jumps from one idea to another, and I'm scared that once she stops talking, she won't ever stop. And honestly, Brigid talks more than enough for both of them, so I'm good with the way things are right now.

She drags Steve over to the couch the minute he gets home from work, where she'll sit with him for maybe three seconds, tops, before she jumps off the couch and runs into the other room. She doesn't even really expect him to follow her when she leaves, and I'm starting to think she just likes to know that he will be in the same place she left him, when she decides she wants to go back to him. She'll sit on the floor, and pat the spot next to her, until I sit down, too, at which point she jumps up and runs off. She brings me books to read to her, but I have to read fast, because she wants those pages turned, and she wants them turned RIGHT NOW. She wants us to sing to her while she does the hand motions she associates with the songs we're singing, but she wants to do the hand motions for the next verse of the song, not the one we're on right now, and she'll start clapping for herself when she's done with the song, not when it's actually over.

She has thoughts and opinions, and she's becoming such a little person all of a sudden. It's kind of scary.

But when she's sleepy? She'll finally slow down. She'll let me hold her, and rock her, and sing to her, and sniff her head. And then she sleeps, and she'll always be my sweet little baby.

Tattoos and all...

I Refuse to Lose Twice

Since almost the day she was born, Steve has been dressing Brigid in the orange and black of the Bengals every Sunday of the NFL season. I didn't fight it, because I didn't think I needed to fight it. I thought, as Brigid got older, she'd realize that the Colts were the far superior team, and she'd do the fighting for me. 

As it turns out, I was wrong, and Steve's propaganda campaign has been strong and successful. As Brigid told me on Sunday, when she refused to put her Colts shirt on until gametime, even though if the Bengals had been good enough to still be playing in the postseason, we all knew she'd have had that shirt on all day, "I do like the Colts, Mommy, unless they're cheating against the Bengals. I just don't want to wear that shirt."

I will not make the same mistake twice.

(Ordinarily, I would be fundamentally opposed to the pinkifying of sports shirts for girls, but LOOKIT HER!!!! She is adorable, and I'll make an exception this one time.)

Sweetheart

At some point, every day, I look at Brigid and tell her she needs to stop getting so big, so fast. I tell her she needs to stay little, forever, to make me happy.

Her response?

'I don't think that's going to happen, mommy. I can't control it, you know.'

Whatever, kid. You'll always be my baby to me.

Eighteen Month Check-Up: Caitlin Edition

I took Caitlin in for a check-up weeks ago, and in the most glaring example of my current inability to keep up with the documentation of my poor, neglected second baby's life, I haven't posted anything about it.

Not that there's anything interesting to post about it, really, but if I'm going to keep an online baby book that I can use in the future to look back fondly on this time with my girls when they were little, then I should probably do it right. Or, as right as posting some terrible iPhone pictures a couple of times a week can be considered, anyway.

Eighteen month stats, Caitlin:

Length: 33.25 inches (89th percentile)

(Eighteen months - 31.75/85th)

(Twelve months - 31.25/95th)

(Nine months - 28.5/78th)

(Six months - 26/67th)

(Four months - 24.75/69th)

Weight: 24lbs 0oz (45th percentile)

(Eighteen months - 22lbs 6.5oz/43rd)

(Twelve months - 20lbs 15.4oz/42nd)

(Nine months - 19lbs 3oz/54th)

(Six months - 16lbs 6oz/59th)

(Four months - 13lbs 4oz/56th)

Eighteen month stats, Brigid:

Length: 33 inches (80th percentile)

(Eighteen months - 30.5/55th)

(Twelve months - 30.5/90th)

(Nine months - 27.5/50th)

(Six months - 26.25/75th)

(Four months - 25/80th)

Weight: 25lbs 3oz (65th percentile)

(Eighteen months - 24lbs 6oz/75th)

(Twelve months - 22lbs 14oz/70th)

(Nine months - 20lbs 14oz/80th)

(Six months - 17lbs 9oz/85th)

(Four months - 14lbs 10oz/75th)

The doctor went through her general spiel around whether Caitlin was walking, talking, and getting into things, at which point I decided hitting two out of the three isn't bad. When I told her that Caitlin wasn't, in fact, talking AT ALL, the doctor started flipping through her medical history, trying to see if there was anything that would point to a reason WHY this wasn't happening. But...Caitlin has been a relatively healthy baby (KNOCK ON ALL OF THE WOOD EVERYWHERE!!!), and there isn't any history of ear infections or poor hearing or anything else that might explain why my girl isn't talking, other than she just appears to be a really, really stubborn baby who won't pick up new tricks on anything other than her own (sloooooooow) schedule.

But! I told this doctor that I'd had the exact same conversation with Brigid's pediatrician at her 18-month check-up, as well. She laughed, and asked me if I was worried. I told her no, she said fine, and Caitlin got some shots.

The end.

And now I have six months to try to get her talking before her 2-year check-up, which is the next time we go in...

(Er, FIVE months, that is, since this all happened over a month ago, and Caitlin is no closer to talking now than she was then. Five months, Caitlin. Let's do this.)

Two Sides

Look, I'm not saying that there are certain times when I love Brigid more than other times, because I love her wholeheartedly, all of the time. Of course I do.

I'm just saying...there are times when things are more...peaceful...than others.

(I think this is a phenomenon that just comes with the whole parenting-of-children territory. I mostly have just as much fun with the Brigid-ness of the process as I do with the peacefulness of it, really. Mostly.)

(Except this past weekend, that is. This past weekend was tough. There was just so much whining. SO MUCH WHINING OMG!)

(SO MUCH!)

(GAH.)

Daddy's Girls

When Brigid was younger, she wanted nothing to do with me if there was a chance that she could trade up for Steve. She wanted daddy to put her to bed every night, she wanted daddy to hold her, she wanted daddy to hug her if she got hurt. And, I'm not going to lie, it annoyed me to no end.

I mean, COME ON. She lived off of me for NINE MONTHS! Didn't I deserve some kind of preferential treatment for that?

No, apparently. No, I did not.

Now that Brigid's a little older, her affections can be easily swayed with a simple 'yes' or 'no' response to one of her many, many, MANY requests each day, so I don't get all fired up when she kicks me out of her room in the middle of her bedtime routine because she'd rather cuddle with Steve instead of me. Generally, that just means I get to go to bed earlier than I would have if I'd completed the process (and it probably actually prevented me from falling asleep in her bed and waking up with a cramped neck at midnight), and that's never a bad thing these days. And anyway, I don't have the energy to get fired up when this happens, since I'm too busy spending all of my time being annoyed that Caitlin is now doing THE EXACT SAME THING TO ME.

Seriously. Is this just a daddy/daughter thing? Do all baby girls love their dads more than their moms at this age? Is it all babies, OR IS IT JUST ME?!?! Am I really just that terrible with babies?

Little turds. Both of them.

(Adorable little turds, yes. But little turds, nonetheless.)

Yo.

This week has been a crazy week. The holiday weekend threw me for a complete loop, schedule-wise, on the things I typically do around the house, because I chose fun over laundry. And I don't regret it, except for the part where Caitlin has no clean sheets or sleep sacks right now, because I'm a little behind on keeping her crap clean. Then there is this big deadline at work this week, which my team will most definitely not meet for reasons so far out of our control that we more or less knew that the deadline wouldn't be met before it was even set, but it's driven by senior management, so set it, we did. And I'm already working from home on Mondays and Fridays, so I can keep an eye on the girls, and while I do get work done, my productivity levels are nowhere near where they are when I'm in the office, so I have to cram a lot into my days, Tuesday through Thursday. Which usually works for me, except when there's a big deadline and I also end up missing one of those office days because Brigid is sick and I have to take her in to see the pediatrician for a strep test.

So. It's been fun.

Let's all just admire this super-cool baby, ok?

(In a true testament to how busy things have been for us lately, I have to take Caitlin in for her 18-month check-up on Monday, and I have completely forgotten to fret over how not-vocal she is at this stage. And by not-vocal, I mean she uses no words. Because we hear from her plenty, it's just never anything more than an indignant screech over our failure to read her mind and provide her with whatever it is that she wants without her actually having to ask for it. I'm just so relieved that she's actually walking now, saving me from that explanation, that this next milestone hasn't even registered with me, yet. Whatever. She'll get there when she gets there, I guess.

Oh, second kids...so much fun.)

Scootering

Last week was not such a great week for me. Because of various work activities I had going on for the end of March, I was in the office for 12-13 hours a day, which meant I missed seeing Caitlin completely on two of those days, and I only saw Brigid for a few minutes of cuddling after she had already fallen almost completely asleep.

I hate those weeks.

Yesterday was the first day of Brigid's spring break, and while I was working from home, the three of us took it easy for most of the day, to enjoy spending some time together and to make up for the time we'd missed together the week before. We ate breakfast on the couch. We colored. We watched some television. Brigid helped me make my in-the-car breakfasts for the rest of the week. We stayed in our pajamas until lunchtime, then took Brigid's scooter 'Pasta' out for a ride around the neighborhood.

(Brigid also wanted to walk the dogs while we were out there, but I have enough trouble keeping Brigid and the strollered-up Caitlin under control at the same time, so adding one or two idiot dogs to the mix isn't really a possibility on our solo walks.)

As is generally the case, Brigid's comment that she wanted to 'walk all day' far exceeded her actual walking ability, and she spent the last quarter of our trip sitting down on the sidewalk every few steps, to whine about how she couldn't walk any more and to ask for snacks that I didn't bring along with us (because we were only walking for MAYBE 30 minutes at the most, and who brings snacks on a 30 minute walk, when you've just had lunch less than an hour earlier?), but I'd say we had a pretty good time before we hit that point...

This kid, man. She just really is the best...

And this is how I aged 15 years in two hours...

Last Wednesday evening, Steve thought Caitlin was feeling a little warm, and even though I didn't really feel anything out of the ordinary, we took her temperature. It came in at 100.6, and since the internet told me that 100.4 is considered a fever when you're taking the poor kid's temperature through her bum, I told Steve we shouldn't give her anything for the fever, yet. It was mild, and I'm in the camp that thinks a fever isn't necessarily bad, and you need to let your body do what it needs to do to fight whatever it's fighting.

Well, I was in that camp, anyway.

On Thursday, we left for work before Caitlin woke up, and neither one of us thought to tell Steve's mom that C had been warm the night before, so she maybe needed a little extra attention that day. And since Caitlin was mostly acting fine that day, the thought that she might be sick wasn't even on Karen's radar, at all.

Around 3pm, she thought Caitlin seemed a little groggy, so she took the baby up for her afternoon nap. While Karen was changing C's diaper, she started seizing. Karen called 911 for the paramedics, then my father-in-law to come get Brigid, then Steve to let him know what was happening. At 3:30, Steve was calling me, texting me, emailing me, and knocking on my office door as I was trying to give a year-end review to one of my employees, to tell me that we needed to leave right then, because Caitlin was leaving our house in an ambulance, and he didn't have all of the details, but she was unconscious, and maybe had stopped breathing at one point, and we needed to meet them at the hospital.

I barely held it together until we got into the car, and then I lost it. As I told Steve, I had a complete breakdown when our house sale fell through in November. Not panicking while my baby was on the way to the hospital in an ambulance was not an option for me.

We beat the ambulance to the children's hospital by about 20 minutes, because we were closer coming from work than they were in coming from the house, and they weren't treating it as an emergency run, because they thought Caitlin was mostly ok, so they weren't using the lights/sirens. While we were waiting, the EMT called me for some health history on Caitlin, and he was able to tell me that she was responding well, and they thought the fever was just a febrile seizure, meaning her temperature spiked too quickly for her body to handle, but there wouldn't be any last damage from it.

My mother-in-law had ridden in the ambulance with Caitlin, and at the hospital, she had to recount her story at least four times for various nurses and doctors. She also had to explain how Caitlin had managed to get her leg caught in the coffee table while Steve and I were out of town last weekend, leaving an impressive bruise on her poor little thigh, because she had twisted herself in there nice and tight.

In the end, they all agreed that it was a febrile seizure, and we needed to alternate her on Tylenol and Motrin every three hours to keep her fever (probably caused by the same virus that had Brigid up and vomiting at 3:30 Friday morning, but that's another story...) down, and we took Baby Caitlin home to eat all of the popsicles.

You'd better believe that kid is getting medicated at the slightest hint of a fever from now on, because this is dangerous or not, this is not something I ever want to have to experience again.

Poor baby...

Weekend Away

Steve and I took a few days this weekend to head down to Tampa, Florida for Hunahpu Day, Cigar City Brewery's annual release festival for one of their more popular beers. Personally, we had a great time, because we got there a little early, stood in line first thing to buy the beers Steve had driven almost eight hours to buy, then took the next few hours to sample as many of the different beers on tap as we could, in absolutely perfectly gorgeous weather, I might add, before hightailing it out of there in time for a 4pm nap back at the hotel. Apparently, we were some of the lucky ones, though, as the 3,500 people that were supposed to have tickets to the event seemed closer to double, or even triple, that amount, and not everyone who spent $50 on a ticket for the right to buy beer was actually able to buy said beer.

I guess it got out of hand, the brewery (or the police, I'm not sure the specific details) shut the event down early, and Cigar City has decided to cancel the event in the future, moving to a regular distribution release of their super-special beer, instead of the big party it has been in the past.

Again...I was back in the hotel, under the covers at this point, watching Island Hunters on HGTV. To me? The event, and the weekend overall, was a success.

I even got to spend some quality time on the beach...

(Although, might I suggest, if you are looking for a peaceful spring break, maybe stay away from Clearwater Beach? At least on the weekends? It was CRAZY.)

(But fun.)

When we got home early Monday afternoon? Brigid was excited to see me, but she still told us she wanted Steve to put her to bed because even though she'd missed me, she'd actually missed daddy, more. And Caitlin wanted me to pick her up, only so she'd be able to more emphatically reach for Steve, going so far as to start CRYING ON ME when I wouldn't let her go.

So, obviously, if you're looking for me, I'll be back in Florida, since I'm OBVIOUSLY not needed at home anymore...

Missed Deadlines

When I took Caitlin in for her 12-month check-up back in December, we had just moved into our new house, so it was her first appointment with the new pediatrician that I'd found in our new city. Since the doctor didn't have any history with us, I think I was expecting some kind of deep background inquiry around what my kid could and couldn't do at this stage, but she simply asked all of the normal developmental questions for a one-year old, around what kind of sounds Caitlin was making, whether she was interactive with us, and of course, whether she was walking, yet.

Seeing as how Caitlin didn't really progress from army crawling to true crawling until something close to 10/11 months, the answer to the last question was not only 'no', it was a pretty emphatic 'HELL NO'. Not only was she NOT walking, she wasn't even close. She wasn't cruising around the furniture or behind a push toy. She wasn't trying to stand on her own. Heck, she wasn't even trying to stand with some assistance, since she wouldn't pull herself up into a standing position at all, for anything.

The doctor told me she wasn't too concerned at that point, since Caitlin was incredibly interactive in other ways, but that if she wasn't walking when we came back for the 15-month check-up, then she was 'going to want to talk about it'.

Tomorrow is that 15-month check-up. And Caitlin still isn't walking.

She's doing all of the other things she should have been doing three months ago, having finally learned to pull herself up against the furniture and walk with either adult (or big sister) or toy assistance, but as for standing on her own? Or even attempting to take a step on her own? We've had none of that.

And while I'm mildly worried about that fact that she seems to be so far behind in this developmental stage, I'm even more worried that the doctor is going to be concerned about how Caitlin is progressing at this age. Steve and I have been working with her for the last couple of months, trying to push the issue, but...

She just doesn't seem interested in walking. And I'm not sure how to remedy that fact, other than just wait it out.

I just hope the pediatrician is ok with that, too...

Second Child Syndrome

As Caitlin closes in on her first birthday, I've started thinking back to where we were with Brigid at the same time, and even though it seemed like THE MOST IMPORTANT THING IN THE WHOLE ENTIRE WORLD when it was happening, I can't even begin to tell you what milestones we were and weren't supposed to be marking off at this point in her young life. Lucky for us, I spent hours and hours of my time documenting just those very (tiny) details about life, so at least I have a reference for where I'm failing my darling second daughter.

Because sometimes, I feel like I'm doing it all wrong with Caitlin. She doesn't pull herself up into a standing position, yet. She doesn't come close to trying to walk. Honestly, she doesn't even CRAWL at this point, either. She doesn't wave hi or bye, she's not a giggler, she doesn't dance.

She, uh, does have more teeth than Brigid, though? So that counts for something? And I didn't fight the transition to adult food nearly as much this time around, although that was mostly more about me being lazy than anything else, but I think I can still mark it as a win for this round. And even though she doesn't crawl, it hasn't stopped her from being completely mobile in her own way, which is bad news for us in that the dogs' water bowl has developed some weird sort of magnetic pull for her, and I now have to move the stupid thing outside when she's on the move unless I want the entire bowl emptied all over my kitchen floor and the rotten little 10-month old that occupies that floor.

I don't read to her as much as I read to Brigid, I don't think there are as many toys out and within her reach as what Brigid had, I don't think we've made her work on developing her skills as much as we did with Brigid. And I know it's ridiculous to compare the two of them, because all kids are different, but the fact of the matter is that when Caitlin doesn't do things at the same rate at which Brigid did them, I feel like it's my fault.

And I kind of feel like I'm about to channel all of this parental concern into the upcoming end-of-formula-times that are upon us. At age one, Brigid was done with formula and done with bottles, and it was my favorite of all of the milestones (Seriously, I might have enjoyed this time even more than the first time she said mama.). IT WAS A BIG DEAL, AND I WILL NOT LET CAITLIN FALL BEHIND ON THIS MILESTONE.

Start practicing, kid...

Mother of the Year

Any mother who tells you that she DOESN'T grab the camera in moments like this before she goes to rescue her child is either a much, MUCH better mother than I am, or else she's probably lying to you. Because come on...

That's a Kodak moment right there, I swear.

I need a road map...

Caitlin still won't crawl, as her preferred mode of transportation involves rolling around on the floor until she gets close enough to reach whatever it is she has set out to destroy, and she doesn't seem interested in learning how to get herself into a sitting position on her own, either. She can feed herself finger foods, sort of, but she can't do it quickly enough to satisfy her need to have food shoved in her mouth constantly, if there is food in her line of sights. The very real possibility that our heads will explode from the indignant screaming if we're eating and she's not seems to outweigh our desire to reach that particular milestone, so we mostly don't even bother with trying to have her feed herself. She doesn't use any consonant sounds, which is something the pediatrician called our attention to in the last check-up (not in an 'I'm worried' way, just in a 'does she do these things' way), but then again, neither did Brigid. In fact, we were a little worried Brigid was never going to talk, and now she never STOPS talking, so it is what it is, I guess.

AND she still wakes up at least once on most nights, which isn't terrible, but is also something Brigid had already stopped doing by this point in time.

I'm not worried about these things, because I know all babies are different, and SERIOUSLY, she is only nine months old, and NO I don't expect her to act like anything other than a baby at this point, and OF COURSE Caitlin will develop at her own pace, but...I don't know.

It would just be easier if there was a set schedule for when babies hit all of these milestones, so you didn't have to waste so much time and energy wondering when things would happen. That's all.


(Of course, we remembered we needed to lower the crib mattress, because this started to happen:

but whatever. SHE SHOULD BE WALKING AND TALKING BY NOW WHY IS SHE NOT DEVELOPING SLEEP FOR 12 STRAIGHT HOURS ALREADY PLEASE.

My mind can be so idiotic sometimes, I swear.)

(She is cute and happy and lovely and perfect and I love her more than just about anything. The end.)

The Progression of a Photo Shoot (Again)

Don't all little kids want to get their pictures taken? Don't they want to strike a cute pose, and smile sweetly, and record their general cuteness for all of posterity?

No. No, they do not. In fact, not only do they NOT want you to get adorable pictures of them at every milestone moment in their life, they want to make sure you are recording what rotten little stinkers they are, instead.

Case in point, Brigid's first day back to school (please note the truly terrible ponytail we sent her off to school with on this particular day, as the child refuses to let me put barrettes anywhere near her head, and those wispies won't control themselves...):

Brigid, let me take a picture of you on your first day of school!

Come on, kiddo, give me a good smile!

Nope, that's not it. It's cute, but not quite what I was going for...

Are you...trying to flip me the bird? Just give me one smile, and I'll leave you alone.

Ok, that works.

Happy first day back to school, kid!

Almost...

When I rock Caitlin to sleep at night or before her nap, she always maintains a solid grip on my shirt until she's fast asleep and completely incapable of doing it any longer.

It's kind of the cutest thing in the whole entire world, EVER, which is almost cute enough for me to forgive her for keeping me up for three hours last night, for absolutely no discernible reason, outside of 'I just really want to be held right now, mom, so you're kind of screwed on the sleep thing tonight, mkay?'...

Almost. Cute. Enough.

(Ok, ok...totally cute enough. You're forgiven, you unsleeping little turd, you.)

The Fighter

Last night, near the end of the bedtime ordeal we have to go through every night to get her to sleep, Brigid elbowed me in the head. She'd tried to do it earlier in the process, aiming a nice little shot directly at my nose, but I'm quicker than she is, and I was able to block it. We had the conversation around how we don't hit people like that, and she needed to apologize for trying to hurt me.

She apologized. We moved on.

Fifteen minutes later, I was flipping through the book we were getting ready to read, and she caught me by surprise, landing a quick hit right to my ear. She's little, that one, but she's strong. Especially when it comes to elbows delivered directly to the head.

When she saw the look on my face after it happened, she told that she hadn't hit me, it was her toy panda bear she was holding. HE had hit me, and I needed to yell at HIM.

That, uh, didn't fly with me.

I ended the book immediately, told her we were done, and she just needed to go to sleep. WE DO NOT HIT PEOPLE. You need to go to bed RIGHT NOW.

She, of course, melted down. I yelled. She yelled. And the whole two to three hours I got to spend with my child yesterday ended with both of us upset. I rubbed her back to calm her down, when all I really wanted to do was finish reading her the book, since that's what seemed to be driving the sobbing. But. She had it taken away because she did something wrong, and I couldn't back down on that.

She might be stubborn, but I think I have her beat on that.

She was fine a few minutes later, sending me out of the room with a smile and an 'I love you, mommy'. Because, of course she can get over things just like that. I, on the other hand, remained upset that I'd had to get mad at her for hitting me. This is how they get you, I swear...

I took an elbow to the head, and I ended up feeling guilty that I wasn't happy about it.

Some days, I wonder how I'm supposed to keep doing this for the rest of my life, you know?

And this is why she's still around...

Caitlin is a sweet baby, truly, but she's also kind of a pain in the butt when it comes to sleeping. She doesn't like to sleep on her stomach, but she also can't seem to keep herself from rolling onto that stomach several times a night, which leads to me getting out of bed several times a night to walk down the hallway, find the pacifier that she has managed to fling under her crib AGAIN, roll her back onto her back, and stumble back to bed again, all without opening my eyes wide enough to wake myself up in a way that will lead to me tossing and turning for the next 45 minutes as I try to get back to sleep.

Oh, except for that 2am wake-up last night, when I also had to change the bomb of a diaper that wasn't about to hold anything else she tried to put into it. That one forced me to open my eyes...

Oh, but when she does sleep?

Well, then you just want to pick her up and snuggle her until she wakes up, because COME ON. How do you fight the pull of those cheeks?

And thus concludes today's lesson on why parents are crazy and parenting makes no sense.

This is why I'm tired all of the time...

*Caitlin does this thing, when she gets really excited to have me hold her, where she grabs my face with both hands and tries to get her mouth around my nose. I'm going to pretend that she's trying to kiss me, because otherwise it seems like she's just trying to take a bite out of my cheek, and nobody wants to raise a creepy little vampire baby.

*The behavior chart we've started for Brigid has had mixed results, up to and including me yelling at her to just GO TO BED ALREADY at 11pm last night, when she told me she wasn't tired and wanted something to do in bed. I told her to try sleeping. She seemed to be thinking more along the lines of watching tv on the iPad. I won, but it wasn't a pretty battle. So. That's fun.

*Caitlin can sit up on her own. But she doesn't want to. I don't even know what to do with that. Except buy a baby carrier so the little turd can get up off of the floor every once in awhile, without me having to carry her everywhere. Come on...who doesn't want to learn to sit up?

*The neighbors took Brigid to the pool the other day, and when she got home, we asked her if she pooped at the pool (because she likes to wait until she's in a wet swim diaper to ask someone to take her to the bathroom...). She told us no. The neighbor texted us to say, if we kept track of those sorts of things, Brigid pooped at the pool a couple of times. I asked Brigid if she pooped, because I heard that she had. She said yes, just once. I asked again how many times she went. Just once, mommy. The neighbor said you went twice, Brigid. How many times did you go potty at the pool? OK, I went two times.

*Caitlin can also roll from her back to her stomach, and then, even though I've seen her do it multiple times before, she refuses to roll back over in the other direction. So, she just lies there on her stomach, screaming. At 11:45pm. And again at 7am. It's nice to get a good bookend on the evening, I'd say.

*Did I mention that Steve is out of town, and I'm on my own with the girls tonight?