A public complaint about you, darling daughter

Yeah, super neglectful of this blog, but only because I'm so preoccupied not-neglecting you - especially at bedtime.

This is going to be a super big problem starting this Friday.

You see, darling daughter, the 2012 Summer Olympics start on Friday and because of stupid TV network ratings crap, 99% of what mommy is going to want to watch will be airing between 8pm and midnight. 

This means your ass needs to learn to go to sleep on time, pronto.  Mommy's kind of done with it all right now and she really wants to watch the Olympics. So, get with the program, please.

The Transit of Venus

Yesterday, June 5, 2012, was a big day. It was Election Day. Only 24% of eligible voters bothered to vote. That's sad.

But aside from that, yesterday also bore witness to one of the rarer predictable celestial events: The Transit of Venus. Venus, the second planet from the sun and the planet closest in size and character to Earth, passed between the Earth and the sun.  This even happens in pairs, but the pairs of events are spaced many, many years apart. The last transit was in 2004. The next will be in 2117.

That is 105 years from now.

People were urged to check it out as it wouldn't likely happen again in our lifetimes. What they mean is, our lifetimes won't likely extend long enough to see it happen again. That's the sort of statistic that makes adults pause.

I didn't put the special glasses, obtained for the annular eclipse of just a few weeks ago, on you and urge you to look as I was scared you might look again without the glasses and hurt your eyes. You won't remember, anyway. And if you don't take to science, you may never know about the event.

But I probably share a hope with the parents of your other 2010 baby friends: maybe you'll see the Transit of Venus in 2117.  A few people live to be 107 nowadays and why not hope - even think or expect - that it might be more common by the time you near the century mark.

Thinking about events outside of my own lifetime is troubling. Thinking about events outside of your lifetime makes me feel entirely too mortal, small, and transient.

Footnote: Yesterday, on that celestially important day, famous Science Fiction writer Ray Bradbury also died. I hope he saw the Transit before he went. He was 91 years old and might have seen the 2004 event, but not one before that. Somewhat relatedly, he wrote a story called "All in A Summer's Day" about a girl who moves to Venus from Earth and misses the sun, which is only visible on Venus for 2 hours every 7 years. She is bullied for being the only person to know what the sun is like from her time on Earth. Her classmates cause her to miss the sunshine.

Ray Bradbury was the commencement speaker at my college graduation.

He was quoted in a newspaper article saying something I want you to remember and take to heart:

"In my later years I have looked in the mirror each day and found a happy person staring back." he wrote in a book of essays published in 2005. "Occasionally I wonder why I can be so happy. The answer is that every day of my life I've worked only for myself and for the joy that comes from writing and creating. The image in my mirror is not optimistic, but the result of optimal behavior."

Lies Your Parents Tell You

The other night, I accidentally stepped on a snail on the top step of our front path.  The crunch was loud and sickening. I hate stepping on snails. I like snails. They eat our vegetable patch and leave nasty, slimy trails, but I don't like killing them. It just feels like we have far too great an evolutionary advantage over these slow movers to wantonly squash them.

The look on your face, darling daughter, was horrible. You looked to my foot and then to my face, locking eyes with an expression equal parts horrified and accusatory.

"It's okay! The snail wasn't in there! It was just his shell! He's out for the evening. I swear."  "Yes, yes," chimed in Daddy.  "The snail moved away, he's on holiday, he needed a bigger shell."

Your knitted brow eased somewhat and you moved on to some other front yard mischief.

Later, I noticed two new snails eating the remains of their friends.  I could see the motion of their swallows, chunks of Cousin Snail moving through their snail heads and down their snail throats and into their snail gullets deep within their snail shells.

Maybe they don't need my deference after all.

Three Months Post-Mup: An Evolution of Thoughts On Weaning

Welcome to the Carnival of Weaning: Weaning - Your Stories

This post was written for inclusion in the Carnival of Weaning hosted by Code Name: Mama and Aha! Parenting. Our participants have shared stories, tips, and struggles about the end of the breastfeeding relationship.

It's been nearly three months since we officially transitioned from nursling-and-mamma to toddler-and-mamma.  After reading about the call for submissions for the Carnival of Weaning, I realized I had more left to say on the topic. And of course, it would be a lie of omission if I failed to note the influence of a certain magazine cover image on my renewed thoughts.

To review: after a terrible, horrible, no good, very bad 10-week introduction to nursing, my daughter and I hit our stride. Around her third month, I finally latched on to nursing in public.  And we enjoyed - or at least engaged in - a nursing relationship for 24 months until February of this year when my husband went home to England to attend a good friend's wedding and took our daughter along (mainly to visit doting grandparents and family, but also because, since he's a stay-at-home-dad and I work outside the home, his two-week trip presented insurmountable child care challenges. It would be another lie of omission if I failed to note that the thought of a working mommy staycation wasn't a little bit thrilling as well).

We knew about the wedding a year in advance. At the time, she was still very much a nursling and I had no intention of cutting her off and she showed now signs of walking away from the tap. Surely, though, we thought, over the course of a year, we'd find a way to gently manage the two-week separation from mummy and "mup" (her word for nursing/milk). Maybe she'd even have chosen to wean by then herself.

A brief flashback is in order: four years ago or so, I called my sister one evening and knew immediately when I heard her cracking voice answer the phone that something was wrong. I felt my heart pound in my chest - what's wrong! I asked in alarm. "Liam [sniffle sniffle] . .. . weannnneeedddd," she cried into the handset. Is that all, I asked? Hey, I wasn't a mother yet and thought it was weird and a little crazy that my over-two year old nephew was still on the boob anyway. I was, I'm sad to say, of the "well, if they are old enough to ask for it by name, then . . . ." camp.

Flash back to my present motherhood and I get it. I got it from the end of year one onward. A 13-month old is still a baby. I was thankful every day that her sometimes-picky eating would be supplemented by mup every morning and evening and frequently throughout the night. Frankly, it eased my worrying about eating habits generally.  I am nothing if not lazy, after all.

I still had an inkling back then, however, that I wouldn't react to weaning the way my sister had. We're strikingly similar in many ways, but divergent in some - our natural affinity towards motherhood being a key area. I love my daughter, of course, but my sister could teach a master class in nurturing. She inspired my desire to nurse from the moment I first saw her nurse my newborn nephew - I swear I could see a heavenly shaft of light beam down upon her - or at least beam from her face to her son's - and I'm pretty sure those were faint angels' choirs singing in the background. Piece of cake! (Haha, as if).

When it came time for our trip, however, I had a minor freak out. It wasn't based on my feelings - well, I guess it was - but based on my fear about my daughter's feelings. We had, of course, made zero progress towards weaning - at least, I thought.  Everything I'd read put a skull-and-cross-bones-like danger sign over the Cold Turkey Method.

Despite weeks of talking about her "big adventure" with daddy and reading Maggie's Weaning approximately eleventy trillion times in the months before, there we were, 24-hours before her flight departed for England and she was still the same nursling she ever was. Whose bright idea was this, anyway?  Did she get it? Was she going to sob all the way to England? The books and stories and discussions and preparation and hugs and kisses and photos - had any of that stuck in her brain?

I think the message was received, at least enough for daddy, toddler, and family to have a great two weeks. Thanks to her rock-solid bond with daddy and because they had their own system of comfort honed over the daily stay-at-home grind, she was fine in England. She ate fine. She slept fine (well, after the jet-lag passed). She was fine. With Skype chats and phone calls, everything was okay. I think this was because I wasn't there not-nursing her. She was days from two-years-old - it's not like she didn't get that mup came solely from mummy and if mummy wasn't around, then no mup, either.  And maybe the weaning book had helped.

I made no effort to preserve my milk supply while she was gone. Pumping was never effective for me and I had abandoned the practice when she was 11 months old (we used goat's milk and slowly transitioned to cow's at around 13 months - though she mostly drank water with meals and was, of course, still getting human milk anyway).  I felt little discomfort until the day before their scheduled return when, I can only assume, my subconscious completely betrayed me and I felt a few hard, burning milk sacs swelling on my chest.

She nursed one final time when she arrived home and once more at night. We had two slightly rough nights where, in her half-asleep, jet lagged state, she was pretty pissed that mommy wasn't as all-access as she wanted me to be. (Considering her age and her proclivity towards tantrums generally, though, these weren't too bad - one grumble session per night.) "Please mummy, mup?"

I remembered the book. Remember Maggie? I asked her? Uh-huh, she nodded? Remember Maggie was a big girl and didn't have mup anymore and she was sad too, sometimes? Uh-huh, sniffle snarffle.  But Maggie's mommy still loved her and Maggie still loved her mommy, right?  "Okay, mommy," and back to sleep.

Ultimately, I think she's her father's daughter and his nature plus his nurturing helped tremendously. She's a roll with it kinda kid. She has flashes of her mother's temper, to be sure, but her calm side prevails.  She didn't hate me. She didn't regress.

And we moved into the next phase. There are still days where she'll wake up and point at my chest and say "there's no mup in there!" (we still bed share).  In a very strange way, I feel like our relationship is more rewarding now - I feel like the cuddles are more for me than for my milk, if that makes any sense at all (though I know, at least on a rational level, that it was the same when we were nursing, too).

If she hadn't taken that trip, would I have taken steps to encourage weaning? At some point, yes. When? I'm not sure. I've certainly evolved since that late-night conversation with my crying sister.  Would I nurse a three-year-old? Probably. A four-year-old? I don't know. Five? Less certain still. There may be a line, but it's not my line to demarcate, that's for sure.

The two truths I'm left with at the end of two years of nursing are these: First, as Hanna Rosin wrote in her infamous article, "[nursing is] only free if a woman’s time is worth nothing" which I think is extraordinarily important to remember as we struggle, culturally, in America to encourage increased nursing and longer nursing.  And second, that weaning isn't the end of the world for anyone and it is, in many cases, a cause for celebrating what's been accomplished - whether for 3 months or 3 years or anything in between, given the barriers to breast feeding that challenge women so frequently.

I still point out nursing animals in books and nursing children we see in public or pictures because I want to raise her to remember and to understand that it's normal. Sometimes she notes it on her own, sometimes she doesn't bat an eye.

Sometimes, I miss nursing because it was a handy way to quiet a fussing child or get an overtired child to sleep. Mostly, I embrace my new freedom - and hers. There may be no more mup in there, but there's a lot of world out there that we still get to explore together. And there's no weaning off that excitement.

Thank you for visiting the Carnival of Weaning hosted by Dionna at Code Name: Mama and Dr. Laura at Aha! Parenting.

Please take time to read the submissions by the other carnival participants (and many thanks to Joni Rae of Tales of a Kitchen Witch for designing our lovely button):

(This list will be live and updated by afternoon May 21 with all the carnival links.)

• On Breastfeeding, Weaning, and One Mother’s Identity — Jessica at Natural Parents Network has been nursing one or more of her children since 1993 - breastfeeding is wrapped up in her concept of mothering and herself. She shares her thoughts on weaning.
• two tales of weaning — Aspen at Aspen Mama writes about their countdown to wean.
• Wean Me Gently — Tam at Please Send Parenting Books shares a beautiful weaning ceremony.
• You say potato, I say bleeeuuuuch... — Anelie at Mindcradle had read the books and knew just how to introduce her baby son to solids—unfortunately, he had other ideas.
• A Post Called Weaning — (Not) Maud at Awfully Chipper writes about how weaning her son took longer than she expected.
• On Weaning, Pregnancy and Emotion — Shannon at The Artful Mama talks about her mixed emotions as she allows her son, Little Man, to guide her through his weaning process.
• half of her life — Staci at Springpatch Jam looks back on her nursing relationship with her first born.
• Is it just this After Forty Mom or is it harder to wean when its your last? — Amanda of After Forty Mom shares her emotional journey towards the impending self-weaning of her toddler daughter.
• Nursing Limits — Jorje of Momma Jorje shares how she has weaned her toddler down to minimal nursing and her guilt about the decision to do so.
• Weaning Video Series #1: Preparation for the Weaning Process — Why is weaning such a taboo topic? Dionna at Code Name: Mama got mamas from across the blogosphere to start talking about weaning - on video. Come check out the first video in a series of five that she'll be posting this week.
• On the weaning of the boy in the middle — Kelly at Witness To Hope shares the lessons of a little one self-weaning at 18 months in the middle of an unexpected pregnancy, after nursing his older sister for three years.
• Weaning due to anxiety — Shannon at Pineapples & Artichokes talks about how she had to wean to preserve her mental health.
• When Will I Wean? A Guest Post — Jennifer at Hybrid Rasta Mama hosts a guest post from a mama who contemplates when her breastfeeding relationship will end.
• On His Own Terms — Momeeezen shares her heartbreak from when her son weaned much earlier than she anticipated.
• Our Weaning Story - Sudden, Surprised, and Embracing a New Season — Weaning doesn't always go how we imagine. That Mama Gretchen shares the story of her daughter's sudden weaning and how she has embraced this new season of motherhood.
• A Tale of Two Weanings — Valerie at Momma in Progress shares the similarities and differences of how her nursing relationships with her now six-year-old and four-year-old daughters came to a close.
• She Doesn't Remember — Alicia at Lactation Narration finds that her 6 year old no longer remembers nursing, only one year after weaning.
• It's The End of the World As We Know It — A story about the end of a tandem nursing relationship on Never Mind The Rain: A toddler moves on to a new phase in her life before mom is fully ready.
• A Natural End To Our Breastfeeding Relationship — With two self-weaning children, Jennifer at Our Muddy Boots does not know when the end will come, but that it will be natural and without regrets.
• Child-Led weaning: It's Not Extreme; It's Biological — Mandy at Living Peacefully with Children explains why child-led weaning is based on biology rather than social constraints.
• 6 Years of Natural Weaning in 5 Steps — Jess at miniMum shares how and why she let her first child stop when he was good and ready.
• Is This Weaning?: A Tandem Nursing Update — Sheila at A Living Family bares all her tandem nursing hopes and fears during what feels like the beginning of the end for her toddler nursing relationship.
• Memories of Weaning: Unique and Gentle — Cynthia at The Hippie Housewife shares her weaning experiences with her two sons, each one unique in how it happened and yet equally gentle in its approach.
• Weaning Aversion' — Gentle Mama Moon shares her experience of nursing and unplanned weaning due to pregnancy-induced 'feeding aversion'.
• Three Months Post-Mup: An Evolution of Thoughts On Weaning — cd at FidgetFace describes a brief look at her planned (but accelerated) weaning, as well as one mamma's evolution on weaning (and extended nursing)
• Weaning my Tandem Nursed Toddler — After tandem nursing for a year, Melissa at Permission to Live felt like weaning her older child would be impossible, but now she shares how gentle weaning worked for her 2 1/2 year old.
• Every Journey Begins with One Step — As Hannabert begins the weaning process, Hannah at Hannah and Horn's super power is diminishing.
• Reflections on Weaning - Love Changes Form — Amy from Presence Parenting (guest posting at Dulce de Leche) shares her experience and approach of embracing weaning as a continual process in parenting, not just breastfeeding.
• Weaning Gently: Three Special Ideas for Success — MudpieMama shares three ideas that help make weaning a gentle and special journey.
• Guest Post: Carnival of Weaning — Emily shares her first weaning experience and her hopes for her second nursling in a guest post on Farmer's Daughter.
• 12 Tips for Gentle Weaning — Dr. Laura at Aha! Parenting describes the process of gentle weaning and gives specific tips to make weaning an organic, joyful ripening.
• Quiz: Should You Wean for Fertility Treatments? — Paige at Baby Dust Diaries talks about the key issues in the difficult decision to wean for infertility treatments.
• I thought about weaning... — Kym at Our Crazy Corner of the World shares her story of how she thought about weaning several times, yet it still happened on its own timeline.
• Celebrating Weaning — Amy at Anktangle reflects on her thoughts and feelings about weaning, and she shares a quick tutorial for one of the ways she celebrated this transition with her son: through a story book with photographs!
• Naturally Weaning Twins — Kristin at Intrepid Murmurings discusses the gradual path to weaning she has taken with her preschool-aged twins.
• Gentle Weaning Means Knowing When to Stop — Claire at The Adventures of Lactating Girl writes about knowing when your child is not ready to wean and taking their feelings into account in the process.
• Weaning, UnWeaning, and ReWeaning — Jennifer at True Confessions of a Real Mommy discovers non-mutal weaning doesn't have to be the end. You can have a do-over.
• Prelude to weaning — Lauren at Hobo Mama talks about a tough tandem nursing period and what path she would like to encourage her older nursling to take.
• Demands of a Nursing Kind — Amy Willa at Me, Mothering, and Making it All Work shares her conflicted feelings about nursing limits and explores different ways to achieve comfort, peace, and bodily integrity as a nursing mother.
• Breastfeeding: If there's one thing I know for sure... — Wendy at ABCs and Garden Peas explores the question: How do you know when it's time to wean?
• Five, Four, Three, Two, One, Two, Three? — Zoie at TouchstoneZ discusses going from 3 nurslings down to 1 and what might happen when her twins arrive.

Save this for when you're much older, Darling Daughter

I wonder if, years from now, when you're studying American history in high school or political science or gender studies in college, if this year will really seem as hostile toward women as it does currently, while we live in it.  I won't clutter this with links to what's gone on, but suffice to say, it seems like an insane number of voters are extraordinarily concerned with possible abortions and promiscuous women above all other concerns like the economy, national security, poverty, or the environment.  It's a bit of a scary time, frankly.

A lot of this came to a head a few weeks ago when a popular, loud-mouthed "shock jock" (oh I hope that term is unfamiliar to you in 15 years time), jokingly (he claims) called a young woman who testified to a congressional panel about access to birth control a "slut" and a "prostitute."  (Oh I hope those terms are unfamiliar to you in 15 years as well).

Let me pause here and tell your Nana to skip the next part. Nana, skip the next part. I think our views might diverge.

Nursing: A Brief Two Year Review

Ed.'s Note: We're more than a bit behind on monthly updates. And we've also flown past a birthday post due date. We'll get there. Promise. But first, some boob chat.

After a punishing birth experience, some serious jaundice issues for baby, and more pain than I was prepared for, I sat in my OB's office convinced I was suffering from some sort of breast infection. Surely that was the cause of the fiery pain and abject discomfort I experienced with each, interminable nursing session.  No dice.  I was fine. It was the worst clean-bill of health I'd ever heard. There would be no magic medicine to ease the pain. My OB said it had taken her 6 weeks to get into the nursing groove. I had a 3 week old daughter. I cried. And cried and cried. No way was I going to make it to 6 weeks.  In the end, after one particularly nasty week with a nipple blister that caused me to sweat, writhe, and claw at the bed sheets while I nursed, it took a full 10 weeks until both she and I hit our stride on this whole feeding thing.  So now, twenty-four (that's 24. double digits, y'all) months later, was it all worth it? What would I tell a friend about establishing and pursuing breastfeeding?

The Fidg at 22 months

I'm still looking for the right photo to match this post. And I'm still looking for the Fidg at 21 months. Time isn't my friend these days, my little one.

It's 2012 and you are two months shy of two years old. You speak in sentences now. Sometimes they seem very complex for someone so little.

This week, we weathered our first bout of family stomach flu. It was a New Year's gift from your god-cousin, Lucas. We knew what we were risking and gambled anyway. Sorry about that. I'm usually a real stickler for minimizing exposure, not sure why I rolled the dice this time except we so rarely get to see your godmommy, Debbie, that we went for it.  I'm still glad we were able to visit with her.  It's been a long, trying week.  I'm not sure when the house will feel germ-free again. This was, without a doubt, the part of parenting I've dreaded since . . . always.

But enough of that, let's get on to what I wanted to say to you at this time of new beginnings and yearly renewal.

Merry Christmas, Baby

The Fidg at 20.9 months (mommy is really behind)

Your cousins have been cropped form this photo. Hope your Auntie isn't mad about that.

So, kid, I was late on your 19 month and now, on the eve of your 21st month post, I'm just getting to your 20th month post and I still have yet to write up a proper Disneyland trip recap (from early October). Sigh. Such is life, kid.  I've fallen right off the blog wagon. If you flashed back to me in 2004 or so, you'd find that statement hard to believe. Those were early blog days, my dear.  On the cusp between the first internet and the 2.0 era.  These terms won't mean anything to you, I'm sure.  Sort of like explaining Compuserve or Prodigy to most people today. Or Z TV. Or the ON channel. Something like these things will rise in your lifetime and be replaced by something else. I can't imagine what. Your dad would probably say it'll be roll-up screens so you can have an actual virtual book or magazine in your pocket, not the rigid tablet that are ALL the rage this holiday season. Kindle Fire - will it be your Zack Morris phone? Your Atari?

Pinterest Challenge - I actually did it!

At the risk of blowing Christmas gift surprises (mom, stop reading!), here's my entry into the fall Pinterest Challenge.

I had pinned this project (first seen here, then pinned from here, and recreated in part from templates found here)

Source: ashleyannphotography.com via Christiana on Pinterest

But, could I, and more importantly, would I, actually do this myself? Look, I did it!

Source: Uploaded by user via Christiana on Pinterest

A pitcher and a little sugar packet holder to beautify my Splenda stash. Crappy pictures, but fun project! I used the recommended pens, purchased at Michaels, and was impressed . . . by the ones that actually worked.

There were limited colors available and of the assortment I purchased, several weren't working at all, which was frustrating. But I was able to make do with the ones that did work properly. They were baked to cure them last night and I did the fingernail test on the fatter black dots in the pitcher's flowers. Didn't budge!

I have a few other pieces to make and ideas for what to put on them. Ross was a great resource for inexpensive porcelain pieces (I was careful to select on the ones labeled porcelain or that clearly said oven-safe on them, just in case), though I noted at least one of the pens I purchased (the peridot green) said it air-cured in 72 hours. It air-cured but then got baked as well. Seems to have done fine. So, uh, Merry Christmas, friends and family! And hooray to me for actually completing a project!

On birthing

I read this today:

If you've never gone through unmedicated labor before, there is no way you can understand the urges your body has to birth a baby. I had no idea how natural it would be to want to push. How irresistible.

 That's not true.

Darling daughter, if you decide to have children, I want you to know that the above statement is not true.  It may be true for some women, but not for all women. It may be true in some situations, but not in all situations. I was medicated and you were born via c-section, but by God, I felt the urges fully. I felt the need to push. I felt the phases of consciousness change. I felt it all.

You are a child of 9/11. You are not a child of 9/11

(this was started on 9/11/01 but not finished until over a month later.)

Checking the parent blog, I find that my recounting of Where I Was seems to have been lost in the big comments crash of ought-whatever. I've only touched on 9/11 a few times over there.

So here's my 9/11 story.  Here are my thoughts about what it meant, what it means, and how it ties into to your story.

+4

Four years ago today, your daddy and I made it offical.  This was great for several reasons. First, we loved each other. Second, he needed a green card. (Kidding, USCIS/ICE!  Well, I mean, he did, but that wasn't the reason we . . . nevermind, you guys have no sense of humor.) Third, we really like cake and man, did we ever get a good one at this party.  A few years later, poof, you existed, deaf Fidg.  First comes love, then comes marriage, then comes little time to date and more challenging travel.  But the love and marriage are still there and that's no small thing these days.  Lately, when daddy and I kiss good-bye in the morning, you, from your perch on daddy's arm, stretch out your arms and squish our heads together for encore kisses. Repeatedly.  If that's your way of asking for a sibling, it's cute, but you're more likely to get a pony.

The Fidget at 19.6 monts (mommy's a little behind)

No, you don't need these yet, but given your parents, it's only a matter of time.

So, this is going to be short and we'll just do-it-up for the 20 month post - but your little blog has been woefully neglected lately. Because why? I started a new job? Guests? Travel? General laze - ding! winner!

You're certainly more of your own person every day. You like to impress upon us this fact as frequently as you can. Normally, this is done with a combination of kicking and yelling. But you're as sweet as you are feisty - not a bad combination.  (Though, if you're curious, more sweet would be welcomed, too).

Your Auntie Sarah came to visit in mid-September and compiled a grand list of Fidget words.  I'm still - a-hem - waiting on their being emailed to me, but suffice to say, you have lots and lots now and you're more willing each day to try your mouth at a new one, or two, or even short phrases or sentences. Daddy believes your first sentence was "me sleepy."  Other short sentences now include "it's okay baby" (these are all sort of one-worded slurs of sentences, but we know what you're saying) - you offer this to any fussing child we come across, mimicking our reaction to crying babies in books where mommy says "it's okay baby!" and pets the book-babies to calm them.  You're pretty cute when you try to do the same in real life. 

It's only lately that I've begun to realize we're done with baby things and that you certainly aren't the bald ball of pudge you were this time last year.  Each day your legs seem to stretch and your proportions morph from baby to toddler to kid.  I forget how young you still are as often as I forget how old you are.  The ever-changing temporal aspects of parenting still trip me  up.

Sadly, I find that parenting your new personality doesn't always bring out the best in me, but I'll work on it, kiddo, I promise.  Patience was never my virtue, though I think I had gotten better at it for a time. I've regressed now, to put it mildly.  Lucky for you, your daddy is far, far more patient. Hopefully, once you're past this innately impatient time in your life, you'll take after him.

More on these fluid few months soon.

The Fidg at 18 months (that's 1.5 years)

This is a pretty good illustration of you these days. The word on the street is "mercurial."  Such is the toddler way, however, and as sad as your sads can be is as happy as your happies are, so I'll take it.  The words are multiplying daily - we can understand them, though maybe not everyone. You have a funny way of first trying a word to yourself, sort of inside your mouth behind closed lips. Then you'll venture out and about with the word. Yesterday it was "lamp." 

This post is a few days late and, for now, short, because this is a time of transition for mommy.  Mommy doesn't do so well with change, but she's working on it.  But it has put me behind on some projects - like this record.  On the brighter side, though, we did get to spend a few quality weeks together - one all on our lonesome as daddy went to the Bonneville Salt Flats with Martin (you remember Martin, the one you scowled at for most of his visit? But then would also high-five? Yeah, him).  You're a pretty exhausting little kid, but I love the always increasing level of interaction and inquisitiveness.  You're growing.  It's not too-fast for now, but maybe it will be in retrospect.

One Year Later

Monterey Bay Aquarium 2010 and 2011

Words as Images, Images as Words: by gender

Toy advertisements, by gender. Can you guess which is which?

The Fidg at 17 months

Crazy like a Fidg. At Raley Field, July 31, 2011

It's happening.

You're teeth have come in. You know how to walk - to run! You're working on jumping. You dance. You've babbled for ages. But now . . . your words are coming.

"Cat" has been a favorite for several months now. Still your first and best word (though we think maybe the nod should go to "tickle" or "ticka ticka" which you've been using even longer thanks to the book Tickle Tickle).  Cat was joined by:

Banana
Cheese
Shake
Cookies
Carrots
Tickle (or followed this one)
One definite use of "Din-saur" per George pig.
Peppa (Peeeppa) as in pig
Teddy
Brown Bear (ba-beh)

And just this past weekend, a definite, gleeful ownership and application of mama and dada.  Pointing at us, calling the right person the right name. Chasing daddy down the street shouting dada dada dada! You're using your words and trying out more of them.  I couldn't be happier. Mom likes to talk, so she wants you to enjoy it as well.  And there's this lingering fear of whether your birth might have taken any sort of toll on you combined with normal parental worries about normal development.  Words, to me, are a sign that your noggin' is doing its job.

These new language skills, of course, aren't necessarily lowering your frustration at not being able to do things or explain things when you want to. The temper tantrums happen. Frequently. More when you're teething, we think.  And those molars are coming in.  Causing you to nurse more aggressively. Which mommy loves, of course. You swing back and forth between allowing us to change your diaper and actively thwarting all efforts toward cleaning your bottom.  That's fun, we love that. Tons.

It's hard to imagine that by this time next year we'll be having conversations.  More of you will be unlocked to yourself and to us.  Development is a magnificent thing to watch.

prep·a·ra·tion

So maybe the storm sleeping isn't possible, however, don't let the previous post fool you into thinking that I'm wandering these streets morose, sad, and aching. 

You see, my job so far has required me, on many occasions, to east that transition between working and not-working for my clients.  To remind them that it's just a job and jobs can be replaced. I am healthy. My daughter is healthy.  No one died.

I've seen clients fold up and cease functioning when faced with job loss. It's so bad to watch. That's not me.  I listen to songs with new ears. I appreciate the world with new eyes. I am reminded that, no matter what, I really am in charge of my own life and I can do what I want to do.  Even with the extra and important responsibilities of parenting. 

Montani Semper Liberi.

I can['t] sleep through a storm

It's summertime. This causes thoughts of summer camp to dance in my head.  One of my favorite things at camp were the evening devotions - the stories we tell campers to wind them down and get them to sleep. Give them a message to mull if they are old enough or just some soothingly spoken words to comfort them if they're littles.

One story I remember well was called "I can sleep through a storm." A ranch hand looking for work approaches a farmer and answers every question with "I can sleep through a storm." Farmer is perplexed but hires him. One night, a few weeks later, a raging storm strikes and the farmer leaps from his bed and doesn't see the hand anywhere, he's angry, so he runs around the farm to find the animals safe in the barn, the hay covered, the plants protected, etc, etc.  The hand is snug in his bed, snoozing away.  The morale, duh: be prepared for the storm.

Second storm reference: the end of Terminator/the paint ball episode of space, a character looks to the gathering clouds and says Viene Tormenta.  A storm is coming.

This was my facebook status on Wednesday afternoon when I heard my boss ask my neighbor to go get coffee with him.

My boss doesn't go for coffee. He doesn't even drink coffee.

And then he came for me.