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.