Monthly Archive for May, 2007

Hmmm…

Claire is playing in my office.  She is banging two blocks together and shouting, “DIE!  DIE!  DIE!”  Should I be worried?

I’ve got one hand in my pocket…

We are pretty good about keeping the house clean, but with two kitties and a toddler, the house is not spotless. Ever since she was old enough to roll around on the floor, we’ve trained Claire that some things are “icky” and shouldn’t be put in her mouth.

Even at such an early age, she was great at finding those things, picking them up in her tiny pincer grasp and saying, “Icky. Icky. Icky!” If you didn’t pay attention, it would go in her mouth, but if you were on top of your game, you’d be handed a nice little prize. And, for the record…Claire could literally follow the vacuum cleaner and still find ickies.

So, what do I do with all these ickies? Of course, I make a special trip to the trashcan for really gross items, but if they are mostly harmless, I put them in my pocket.

Over the months, this habit has continued for both Claire and me. She finds ickies throughout the day and hands them to me. And at the end of the day, I have the strangest things in my pocket: A tuft of kitty fur, a piece of shredded paper from the shredder, a tiny piece of a magazine or book, a piece of lint, and strange things that are best left to the imagination…

“So, did you find everything alright today?”

I really don’t like shopping.  I know this may cause some to demand that the validity of both my X chromosomes be checked, but it’s true.  I have to be in the right mood.  When in the right mood, things are great.  When I’m not, it’s not a good experience for anyone.

Today was a good day.  Daddy said he would watch Claire, and I could go to Target.  I love Target.  I know that sounds contradictory, but it really isn’t.  If I have to choose a store to go to get necessities, I’d choose Target.  Target is not my first choice of a place to go without Claire, but we needed a lot of things, and he’s gone so many times that it is my turn.

So, how do you keep from checking the rear view mirror, knowing that you’ll just see an empty car seat?

As much as I love Target, I really hate how they arrange their store.  I didn’t go to the SuperTarget this time, I went to the AdequateTarget by our house.  They just recently remodeled this Target and almost made it a SuperTarget, but missed the mark.  What’s the point of remodeling if you’re not going to go all the way?

Anyway, I am happily walking around Target looking for the things on my list.  Today is a good shopping mood day.  See?  Shopping isn’t so bad!

Until… 

I can’t find the soft-soap to save my life.  Where could it be?  At least when Claire is in the cart, people don’t look at me funny when I talk to myself.  But, seriously, how hard should it be to find a large jug of soft-soap refiller?  It’s not by the detergent.  It’s not by the body soap.  It’s not by the cleaning supplies.  It’s not even in that weird random item aisle.

Finally, I give up and ask a red-shirted and khaki-panted person.  “Oh,” she says, “Did you look over here?”  She takes me over to the opposite side of an aisle I’d actually briefly considered, but didn’t see anything remotely looking like soft-soap.  Sure enough…there it is!  It’s by the mouthwash!  Obviously.  Why wouldn’t I have looked there first?

The one time they don’t ask me how my visit was, is the first time I actually had a witty response prepared about their wacky product placement.  Okay, that’s not true…I would have said, “Fine, thank you,” and it would have been barely audible over the screaming in my head.

Daddy’s little girl

Claire and I have the same conversation every weekday.

Claire: “Daddy bye bye?”
Momma: “Yes, Claire. Daddy went bye-bye.”
Claire: “Daddy’s WORK!”
Momma: “That’s right! Daddy’s at work! But, he’ll be home later today.”

Today, Daddy has taken the day off to recuperate from his camping trip. A vacation from his vacation, if you will. Today, the conversation is a little different. Today, Claire’s face lights up with pure joy as she shouts, “Daddy’s HERE! Daddy’s HERE! Ohhhhhhhhhh, Momma! Daddy’s HERE!”

My baby is 18-months old today!

I can’t believe Claire is a year and a half old! I know it sounds cliché, but where does the time go?? Eighteen months ago, I became a Momma, and I still remember that moment very vividly. It helps that I’d asked to watch in the mirror. 😉

I took Claire to see the pediatrician today for her 18-month check up. She weighs 26 lbs and is 32 1/4 inches tall. She’s in the 75-percentile for both categories. They gave her a tetanus shot and the polio one. Since her last appointment was just shy of 6-months ago, they are waiting on the Hep A booster until her 2-yr visit.

The doctor was amazed that she’s saying so many words and actually putting two words together (let alone little primitive sentences). He said 18- to 24-month olds usually say about 10 to 15 words…not 70. Hmmm, I wonder where she gets her verbal skills? We’re such quiet and reserved people. *cough*

She did really well with the shots, so far…oh, and we got a kick out of the “what to expect with this age group” chart they gave us. Under the Social/Emotional category it says, “Self-centered, may have temper tantrums, imitates, and negative behavior.” Great. Way to paint a rosy picture, Doc! 🙂

Come to think of it, I didn’t realize that 18- to 24-month olds were so similar to 34-year old males. 😉

The pediatrician said she’s doing great, and I’m so thankful.

But I don’t wanna!

I hate the Tuesdays after a long weekend.  They are like these maniacal Mondays that just taunt us with all the work that has piled up while we were out gallivanting around the countryside foolishly enjoying our holiday.

If I don’t start working on the files, it will just get worse.  I know this.  I know how this story ends.  I don’t even have to skip ahead and read the last page or read an online spoiler site. 

I wouldn’t even categorize myself as a procrastinator.  Not really.  Not in the true sense of the word.  Normally, I have an OCD-like obsession with getting things done.  I love lists, and I hate having unchecked items.  I hate getting up early, but I will do it if it means getting ahead.  Usually, if there are files on my desk, I have an unnatural urge to work until they are done.

So, what’s the deal?  Why can’t I get motivated to make calls and type?  What’s wrong with me?

It’s a Tuesday disguised as a pseudo-Monday, that’s what.  There is nothing natural or usual or normal about this day.  All the work of a Monday AND a Tuesday, wrapped all into one hideously long day.  At least, tomorrow is Wednesday, which means that Friday is just around the corner.

Wow, my positive outlook just made a random appearance.  Maybe my non-procrastinating obsessed-with-being-productive outlook will return as well?

Nope.  False alarm.  I’m gonna have a lotta files to do tomorrow…

Say what?

Claire and I were playing in my office.  I was talking to her about what she was doing and she was babbling back.  And then, she just looked up at me and waggled her eyebrows. 

It fit perfectly in our conversation and was the equivalent of the “Ha-ha, I’ll show you how much fun this is,” and “Look at what I’m going to do now,” combination sentence. The non-verbal communication was dead-on!

I do this all the time to her, but I thought it would be a long while before she picked up the nuances of non-verbal facial expressions.

I guess I was wrong.  I could practically hear the wheels turning, and watching her put it all together was amazing.  I wonder what she’ll “say” next!

The perfect day

Daddy is camping with the guys for the Memorial Day Weekend, so Claire and I are having a girls’ weekend!

Today has got to be the most perfect day. We both slept in late. We spent a couple hours at the pool and hit the drive-thru on the way home to get Momma something naughty for lunch. Claire took a nap while Momma watched a Law & Order Marathon. We didn’t even wear real clothes today. All day.

Awesome.

Uh oh…

Claire and I are sitting in the kitchen, and we’re eating lunch.  The icemaker starts making its weird little drippy noise and releases a load of ice into the tray.  “Uh oh!” Claire says, as she points to the fridge, “Pooped!!”

Claire loves the pool

When Claire turned six months old, I decided to introduce her to the pool. I was very afraid of water when I was younger, and I didn’t want Claire to suffer the same nerve-wracking experiences. Luckily, she was just the right age to take to the pool when the weather was great. The pool we go to is indoors, but I still didn’t want to go when the weather was gross.

At first, we would try to go at least once a month, and she loved it! She’d cling to me like a little monkey at first, but after a while, she’d get used to it.

Winter settled into the area, and we took a break from the pool. Because the winters are usually pretty mild here, we went right up until the Thanksgiving holiday. This year, we experienced an unseasonably gross winter, and the weather just got to be too weird to think about swimming.

Now that the weather has started to resemble milder climes, we’ve returned to the pool. Almost a year has gone by since I first took Claire swimming, and she still loves it. Now, she pulls me around to each station of the zero-depth pool, and she will play without holding onto my hand. She’ll tug me to the edge of the “big pool” and beg for us to go in. Once in there, she clings for about 30 seconds, but then she relaxes. This time, she was even able to float on her back (with me holding her, of course) and kick her feet!

She has even started asking to go to the pool! I didn’t think this stage of development happened until much later. In her primitive sentences, she’ll ask, “Pool? Bye Bye Pool? WATER! WATER! POOL! Wheeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee! Pool? Pool? Please Momma!?”

It could be worse. She could be asking to borrow the car so she could go meet her friends at the Mall.