Rhubarb and Soda

Hello, Everybody, So Glad to See You!*

Well, it's been what--an eight month hiatus?  Too, too long.  I swear I've been composing posts in my head for months!  Well, here I am, back in the saddle.  I will try to update at least twice a week again.  I realize my memories otherwise kind of evaporate and there's just too much going on right now that I'm going to want recorded.

The Bean seems hardly a bean anymore---and I have another bean, sprouting again, so to speak.  I'm due March 12.  Oh, the excitement!

I'll be back soon.  So much to say, but it's all going to have to wait because the Bean (the one on the outside, that is) is stirring and there's grocery shopping to do.

Talk soon,

me

*This is the title of the Bean's all-time-hand's-down favorite song.  I actually usually have it playing in my head at all times.  Which is why I wish I could drink.  A lot.

Month 14

Sorry, Bean, I'm a little late with this one:

Big changes this month!  First of all, you're walking!  You started on October 31.  You didn't start gradually--although for about two weeks before hand you were taking little isolated steps--but on Halloween, you decided that you had seen enough of the floor, thank you, you were going to be a walker!  I got a call about it from your nanny, so I hurried home early from work and confirmed that you were already quite adept at it.  I got to see you dressed in your cat costume, tottering precariously room by room.

You love any object that seems important to us grown-ups: remote controls, cell phones, keys, and make-up.  Any effort to distract you away from any such item in your clutches with a lesser, kid-themed item is futile. 

You are truly developing into what the professionals call a "spirited toddler": your highs are high and your lows are low.  When you laugh, you cackle heartily; when you cry, you emit a loud wailing sound that can be heard across the neighborhood.  The hitting and biting seems to be subsiding.  I've deduced that you only hit or bite when you feel like you're being shuffled around or excluded.  Usually, 15 minutes of high-quality floor time will do the trick.

You love to have books read to you.  We read about three together each night.  But the books must have only one sentence per page and have bright, primary colors.  Pastels and long narratives just aren't for you (yet).

Everything is "This!"  When I carry you around the house, you point at things as we walk by: "This!  This!  This!"  I think this came from your Daddy and me asking you "Do you want to play with THIS?  Do you want some of THIS?"  So, clever girl, in your mind everything is THIS!  Obviates the need for all those extraneous nouns!

The cat continues to be your favorite member of the family.  She is the only one to whom you will always call out a cheerful "HI!" and wave, should you see her cowering in a corner across the room from you.  You haven't yet figured out that you are not the cat's favorite member of the family.  I'm grateful that she continues to endure your over-zealous pats and tail-pulling experiments.

Did I talk about all the hugs and kisses?  You will walk across the room to your nanny, dad, grandma or me and spontaneously put your cheek on our thigh and hug our legs.  Such sweetness!  Sometimes you'll get upset over something and I'll pick you up and you'll just melt into my shoulder.  Your new favorite activity is to engage in group hugs with your daddy and me.  I just have to shout out "group hug!" and you'll come barreling over to us with your arms outstretched and squeeze your body between ours.

You love to fall because then you can call out "Uh-OH!"  Your nanny got you a Bean-sized stroller that you push around the kitchen with reckless abandon.  Sometimes you'll throw it and then fall down on your tookus just so you can shout "UH-OH!"

You were sick all last week.  Fevers as high as 104.3, two ear infections and no appetite.  Scared me to death.  But through it all, you were sweet and (for the most part) agreeable.  Today you finally seem back to your old self (but still sweet and agreeable!).  For that I am so grateful.

Speaking of gratitude, we celebrated Thanksgiving last Thursday.  The three of us had my parents over and we had a lovely meal (which you slept through since you were still sick).  All day I couldn't stop thinking about how thankful I am to have such a wonderful family and a marvelous little girl. 

I love you,

Mama

Hey, 98.6, It's Good to Have You Back Again

Sorry I haven't posted in so long.  The Bean woke up with a slight fever last Sat. "Oh, she must be getting another tooth," I thought naively as the three of us toddled out for lunch. Little did I know that luncheon would be the last time I would be able to enjoy myself without having my little Phlegmmy McPhlegmerson strapped to my side for about five days.  Two doctor visits and five prescriptions later (one of which is the blessed Tylenol with Codeine), she's finally feeling better.  In the interim, we've had sleeplessness, fevers spiking to 104.3, two ear infections and a veritable phlegm-o-rama.  Last night I just resigned myself to sleeplessness and hung out on the couch with the Bean and watched Sprout into the wee hours.  Which brings me to a question:  why do the thirty-something male hosts on these children's shows never blink?  Are they afraid that children, with their limited attention spans, wouldn't be able to handle the diversion?   

In light of the Bean's illness and all my attention thereto, I have resigned myself to picking up every last item for Thanksgiving dinner from Gelson's, ready-made.  And I have no regrets.  (Except for the fact that I will still have to heat said food myself.)

The Bean's 14 months old today.  Expect a monthly letter soon. 

My brother is 29 years old today.  HAPPY BIRTHDAY, LITTLE BROTHER!  I hope he stops by tomorrow.  I haven't seen him for months.   

Happy Thanksgiving eve, everyone.  I am thankful that you read my silly post.

Much Better

Ahhh...feeling much better, now.  I had a touch of the flu, methinks.  (Which is a bit of a relief because with the way I was feeling I was convinced I was pregnant.  I bought the test and everything on my way to work Friday.  Single line, false alarm, have a nice day.)  The real news is that I'm out of the running now for NaBloPoMo.  No commemorative T-Shirt for me.  Harrumph!   But I'll continue to post regularly this month anyway.  I'm so enjoying visiting other sites via the Randomizer and getting comments from new! and exciting! people (and old. and boring. ones, like Auntie Jen!).

Heee!  My husband just came in and asked if I was writing to my boyfriend, which prompted him to slip into his Cloris Leachman impression:  "HE! WAS! MY! BOYFRIEND!"  Young Frankenstein, my friends.  One of the funniest movies evah!   Please feel free to post your favorite YF line, below.  Share the joy!

Feeling Poorly

I was going to write a post about things I don't do very well, but I'm feeling rather under the weather.  Writing about my weaknesses might throw me over the edge!  I left work midday, drove home and threw myself under the covers (still in my jeans) and slept a little more than three hours.  I should be all better by tomorrow, when I'll return to my regularly scheduled (hopefully) witty posts. 

Jingle Bell Rock

My office holiday party this year will be at a somewhat ritzy hotel of some renown.  "Why not," said the intrepid Jeffe to me a couple of weeks ago, "spend the night?"  Here his eyes twinkled and there might have been a raised eyebrow punctuating his libidinous ("you know what I'm sayin' when I'm sayin' it to ya?") point.  Now, as you all know, since she came into existence lo those 13 and a half months ago, I have never spent the night Beanless.  But she and I are blessed with a fabulous sitter in whose arms the Bean melts whenever I go off to work or go to dinner with Jeffe every month or so.  Why not spend the night between crisp, cool, high-thread count sheets, waking to poached eggs and mimosas, giggling with my husband the way we used to when we would sleep in regularly on Saturday mornings, with only a couple of hungry cats to wake us up?....

Yup, it sounds great in the abstract, but then I have visions of me desperately expressing milk from my engorged breasts in the ladies' room during the party, calling home every half hour and then panicking over the sound of a very displeased Bean in the background, realizing I'm an hour away from home and then pleading with a snookered Jeffe to drive us back home....

Once again, I think I need to chill.  Blogging every day is really allowing me to see that a theme is developing here.  I am overly high strung and I should once again have a glass of wine.  Garcon!  (By the way, he never did show up last night.  The service here stinks.)

Top Ten Things Freaking Me Out Right Now About the Bean

10.  She's still sleeping in our bed!;

9.  Did I mention the biting?;

8.  (Oh, this is bad:)  I've never brushed her teeth!!;

7.  Isn't 13 months too early to go down to one nap a day!?!;

6.  Is she getting enough vegetables?

5.  Will the fact that I work outside of the home have a negative impact on her developing personality?;

4.  Does Jeffe speak too loudly around her (thus riling her up and agitating her?);

3.  Is she getting enough milk during the day?

2.  Do we have the TV on too much (in the background) when we come home from work?;

1.  Does she look like me even a little bit?

It's a wonder I sleep at night!  Phew!  That was cathartic!  Thank you, Internets!  Just seeing my neuroses flung out on the computer screen like that makes me realize how silly I am.  I think I just made more room in my head to appreciate all the things that are going so very right with the Bean.  For instance, did you know she pointed to my eye tonight and said, "Eye!"  Not bad for 13 months.  No, not bad, you're thinking, but you're also imagining that if I was a SAHM she would have pointed at my eye and said, "Retina!"

Okay...so the neuroses are still there.  Perhaps a glass of wine will stave them off.  Garcon!

There's No "I" in Voting

When I was a little bean myself, I wrote to then-president Gerald Ford.  About a month later, I received a huge manila envelope in the mail.  Addressed to me.  From the White House.  Other than birthday cards from my grandparents, I never really received mail, and I certainly never recieved such an official-looking manila envelope before.  It was stuffed with big, glossy booklets about the White House and the presidency.  There was a letter "actually" signed (i.e., copied in a manner that made it look to a seven-yeal old like it was signed) by the President!  I remember learning all about the Oval Office and marvelling at the fact that I was able to elicit such a response from such an important man.

Then, Carter was elected.  My mother told me Carter was a much, much better man than Ford, so I quivered over the idea about what Carter might send me.  If Ford went to the trouble of sending me a huge envelope of stuff, perhaps Carter would send me a package!  I might get a swatch of the drapery from the Lincoln Bedroom!  Or a lucky penny from the president's own pocket!  I wrote my letter, sent it off, and waited.  And waited.  And waited.  Carter sent me nothing.

It was only after years of study and introspection that I could allow myself to agree with my mother and conclude that Carter was the better president.  In spite of myself, I still have a real soft spot for Ford.

Happy Election Day!

Bite Me

Hey!  I just checked my stats for the site and at least two people took a gander at my blog via Fussy's site because I'm listed as a NaBloPoMo participant!  If you're visiting via that link, welcome!  Pull up a chair and enjoy!  Gimme a comment and a link to your blog, Internet friend, wontcha?

So, the Bean has developed some new interests.  No, not conversational French.  No, she hasn't picked up the flute.*  She's..biting and hitting.  The little bit of Internet research I did revealed that biting and hitting are exceedingly normal behaviors for a 13-month old.  In fact, some of the sites I visited went so far as to characterize them as laudable behaviors!  After all, doesn't the manifestation of frustration in one so young indicate that the child is sensitive, strong-willed and passionate?  No, I think these behaviors are an indication that this child was born to a couple of tightly-wired lawyers whose idea of fun is a few rounds of debating tete-a-tete (Nerf bats optional).

I should say that I know the biting and hitting is just a phase and the Bean is otherwise good-humored, happy and agreeable.  She loves to laugh and give kisses.  It's just that she does seem to get frustrated quite frequently of late.  I'm sure it's because everyone around her is so verbal, expressing themselves freely, and all she can do is say her ten or so words.  How can she, for instance, possibly convey that she prefers her asparagus to be steamed a little longer when all she can say is mama, dada, cat, dog, meow, nana, woof-woof, ball, bye, thank you, no, yes and her sister's name?  (Yes, I did just take that opportunity to show off all the words she's saying now, thank you!)  So, I think I'll just calm down and wait this phase out.  I haven't been a mother long, but I imagine that I'll be saying "so, I think I'll just calm down and wait this phase out" alot during the next 20 or so years.

*Although I think if you were to introduce the Bean to the flute she might enjoy hitting you over the head with it.  But again, that's just because she's sensitive, strong-willed and passionate.

To Sleep, Perchance to Dream...

For those of you sitting in suspenders over my last post (hi, Mom! and <<insert cricket noises here>>), the Bean woke up with a bang! at about 6 last night---she rolled off the couch.  Don't recoil in horror, I did have the presence of mind to put a bunch of pillows at the foot of the couch when she fell asleep and it was these pillows that thankfully broke her fall, but didn't keep her from being extremely peeved.

She's sleeping again now.  Oh, Internets, her sleep schedule is so terribly erratic!  It's been this way for about a month.  I thought she was transitioning early to one nap a day, but then she ends up conking out at 10 a.m. just when I thought the transition was complete.  I've always been in the Dr. Sears/anti-scheduling/she'll sleep when she wants to camp, but I worry that her little body needs some sort of routine.  Hopefully she'll fall into one again, soon.

I just went downstairs to commune with Jeffe, but his knickers are all in a twist over the Saints game.  Oh, how I wish I had that "interest in sports" gene.  But when I try to watch a football game my eyes will invariably wander and I'll find myself musing that I find the bare wall to the left of the TV screen just as engaging as the image of the brightly-dressed men frolicking on the green background.  I just don't care about it.  Which is a pity, because I would like to have something else in common with my husband.  I'm sure he feels the same way about 19th Century novels.  Not.

The Bean's been asleep for an hour and a half now.  Can you say "bye-bye afternoon nap?"  "Bye-bye!"  I guess I'll go downstairs and watch the Saints.  Or stare at the wall.