I still get my weekly "My Toddler This Week" emails - and every week it's a little more shocking just how accurate they are. Here are snippets of the last three I've received:
It's eerie.
And "spirited" and "undesirable behavior" are such, umm, polite ways to put it. Other key words are "independence", "endless enjoyment", "needy", and "frustration" - but at least we "can take some solace in knowing his development is right on track", right? Yup.
14 months, folks. Yesterday, his new shoes came in the mail and I had him try them on. He was sitting there eating supper with his new haircut and his big boy shoes - looking all OLD. It was a little much. This past weekend he nearly made me cry when he crawled up on the couch, turned himself around, and sat - mirroring Jeff - on the opposite end of the couch, pretending to watch TV. And he almost got a round of applause when he scooted himself to the edge, turned around and slid off the couch feetfirst. This is HUGE as he usually tries to take a header right off the side. He's really starting to connect some of the dots around here.
In the last few days he has started babbling up a storm - which he hasn't seemed too interested in doing before now. Lots of kids have a few words by now, but he hasn't cared to talk much yet. Until yesterday. He just babbled all day. I listened to him for a little bit last night, laying in his crib, just chatting away with Mr. Bear.
And he hugs. That is the best.
I still can't manage to get too many photos of his little mug - mostly the back or side of his head as he bolts away giggling. But I updated the photo album with all kinds of new pictures. (I was 2 months behind! How could you let that happen!)
I've been psyching myself up for weeks. Every morning when I combed his shagginess I would think to myself - Seriously, he needs a haircut. Food gets stuck in it, it bothers his neck, and God forbid people think he's a girl. I would even periodically say it aloud - for emphasis. I am certain Jeff thought I would chicken out for at least another 6 months. But I gathered my confidence, my composure, and my clippers - and I jumped.
Before:
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During:
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After:
I don't think I realized what a mop he had until it was gone. And I'm pretty sure he aged about 6 months in the five minutes it took to shear him. He looks so OLD. But handsome. Such a little guy.
The whole thing went miraculously well. We were bracing ourselves for wailing and gnashing of teeth - but - nothing. Colt sat mostly still and didn't really make a sound - he was concentrating pretty hard on what I was doing. I had prepared myself for the probability that I would get halfway through his haircut and be forced to stop for one of various nightmarish reasons - and I would have to send him to daycare on Monday with jagged, half-cut hair that looked like a pig chewed it off. But instead, we pushed on through - cutting off his little blonde wisps - and before I knew it, there sat a little boy where my baby had just been. I'm probably being dramatic. It's not that drastic. But he just looks - different.
It shouldn't really come as any big shock that Colt had a perfectly reasonable and normal and fairly uneventful first day at his new daycare. Fun, even. And it should come as even less of a shock that I was still a wreck most of the day.
I know. Kids go to daycare all the time. They meet new people - all the time. They don't really care as soon as they see that oh look, the new daycare has cool toys and books and things to climb on, just like the old daycare - All. The. Time. I knooooooooow.
Here's the thing. I had a MAJOR meeting Wednesday at work, so it would have been a mentally draining day ANYWAY. Add that to the fact that Jeff and I had to leave our little guy in the hands of completely new people in a room that doesn't look or sound or smell the same as Ms. Barbara's - and you have Mama Mess. Which I'm pretty embarrassed to admit. But whatever. First day, people. First day!
And he totally knew it.
Jeff always takes Colt to daycare in the mornings. But yesterday he got in the car with me. (Jeff and I both went for the big drop-off, but we're having a car issue - as in, we're down one because of the blasted hail a few weeks ago. Long story. Will wait for another day.) Immediately, Colt knew something was weird. He probably thought he was going to the doctor. Who knows. But he totally picked up on the break from routine.
We got there and he took one look at that room and clamped his little hands around my neck. Nuh-uh. We sat in the floor and watched the other kids for a minute, and he started to loosen up. He didn't cry, but he wasn't thrilled, either.
After a few minutes, he got brave and ventured over to a basket of plastic bottles - each filled with something colorful and noisy and fun. He proceeded to empty the basket onto the floor. About halfway through this process, he was starting to look very "at home". And I felt better. And the new daycare has something the old daycare didn't have - girls! Colt is already an expert at picking out the pretty girls. He flirts with waitresses, he wanders up to strange women at the swimming pool, he strains his neck to follow a cute dress with pigtails in a passing stroller at the mall -- it's trouble. So he LOVES that his new class has several pretty girls.
Before Jeff and I had to leave for work, Colt discovered a play kitchen. He cleared the shelves of dishes onto the floor in no time flat, but found one of his favorite things! A waffle! The look on his face when he bit down on the hard plastic play waffle was priceless. How disappointing that must have been -- he just looked at us all confused. What the heck is up with their waffles, Mama?
So he survived his first day of "real" daycare. And his second day, for that matter. They send home little report cards each day that tell us how he slept and ate and if there were any issues. Of the following choices - Well Fair Poor - what do you think they circled for each time food was offered? That's my boy.
Everyone humored my taking First Day of School pictures - which was nice of them. And I'm probably breaking some sort of ethics or etiquette rule by posting photos of other kids' names... I tried to crop the other kids' faces out of the photos... sorry new friends.
Here you go - the ride home - good, solid evidence that he made it to the end of the day in one piece. Friends, this is the face of one SERIOUSLY exhausted little boy. Exhausted. But happy to see his Mama.
Those of you who have been following along know that we've gone back and forth several times about daycare. We were leaving Ms. Barbara's. Then we weren't. Still on the waiting list, but moving to an in-between place. Then we were staying at Ms. Barbara's again. The reasons for all the mind-changing are not that interesting so I'll spare you the gory details, but know this - we have had the same sweet old lady keeping Colt since he was 11. Weeks. Old. He turned 14 MONTHS old - yesterday. Let me break that down for you.
This is who I dropped off at daycare for the first time on 2 September 2008.
And this is who I picked up after work yesterday.
*sigh*
His day-to-day little world consists of me, Jeff, and Ms. Barbara. And the other few kids (most of whom are part-time) at Ms. Barbara's house. And today. I'm taking him to real, live, sign-in/sign-out, put-your-name-on-EVERYTHING, we-have-a-posted-menu-and-schedule-and-BITING-policy DAYCARE. *breathe* I'm a little anxious about the whole thing. Obviously. We toured daycares, we picked our favorite, waited forever on the list, and now we're in. But it's really hard to know that I'm about to drop him off with a bunch of strangers (to him) - in a class called The Little Lambs (when Jeff and I kinda think he belongs in a class called The Tazmanian Devils...) - where he will be eating and sleeping and playing in a completely unfamiliar place.
Somehow yesterday - the last day at Ms. Barbara's - wasn't as traumatic as I'd expected. But this First Day. At Big Boy Daycare. It's causing more than a little heartache.
Vegas Debrief. In a word - fabulous. Jeff and I left Thursday night for three days in Sin City, and Colt got to spend his second weekend in a row with Grandparents. Grandmother and Pop (Jeff's parents) came and stayed at the house for the weekend so Jeff and I could go away for the weekend. And I am here to tell you they are saints. Saints. Grandmother described her weekend as, "trying to tame a whirlwind" and I think it's just about right.
After we strapped the carseat into Granny's car and gave her the lowdown on the sleeping/eating/bathing schedule, we were off to the airport. Our flight was actually EARLY so we got to Vegas 30 minutes ahead of schedule. And I would like to point out - for the record - that I packed less for this trip than I have in my LIFE. The airline had a $40 charge per carry-on, per leg - so, needless to say, Jeff informed me we would not be checking any bags. It's amazing what you truly don't need. *sheepish grin*
When we got off the plane, we found our way to the hotel shuttle. We were the first people onto the bus, but it was full (about 20 people) before it left. And of course, we were the very last stop - but since our plane had been early we decided we were even.
We schlepped our stuff into the Golden Nugget where we experienced the most vivid Seinfeld moment of our lives. We walked up to the check-in desk, showed ID, blah blah, and Dennis The Hotel Employee informed us that there were no King rooms available. Jeff spoke up and reminded Dennis that we had requested a King. Dennis could see our request in his computer, was terribly anything but sorry, but repeated that there were no King rooms available. We looked at each other and snickered - quoting one of our favorite Seinfeld scenes. "You know how to take the reservation. You just don't know how to hold the reservation. And that's really the most important part of the reservation. The holding."
So double beds it was. Yep. I Love Lucy style.
After we dropped our stuff in the room, we ventured down for a bite and some action. Nancy had peaked my interest for Craps when we had lunch last week, so Jeff and I edged in at one of the tables across the street at Binion's and played a round. I LOVED it. I hummed songs from Guys and Dolls the whole time.
Then things got interesting. We walked into a dive called La Bayou, where Jenni and I had played WAY too many penny slots when we met up with her family the week of Thanksgiving in 2006. We sat down hoping to see a cocktail waitress for a drink and put 20 bucks in a 25 cent slot machine. I think we pulled three times before the thing went berserk - lights, buzzers, general commotion. We weren't even paying attention and had no idea what we'd won - but before we knew it there was a girl dressed like Chiquita Banana giving us Mardi Gras beads and a nicely-dressed man counting money into our hands. 300 dollars! We called it a night. Welcome to Vegas.
Friday we slept in. Repeat. Slept. In. Ahhhhhhhhh. The first day in WAY too long that we didn't have a single thing to do or place to be. It was wonderful. We enjoyed it so much we slept late every day we were there. Double beds and everything. And after dragging ourselves out of bed, we took advantage of a buy-one-get-one ticket the hotel had given us for a breakfast buffet where I systematically destroyed what little progress I've made on my seriously-your-kid's-over-a-year-old-you-should-probably-think-about-losing-some-baby-weight program. But they had omelettes! And waffles! And french toast! And bacon! And I'll stop now. You get it. It was sinfully good.
We squeezed in a little sun-worshipping each day we were there. Mm hmm. Lounge chair IN the pool. Can't beat it. And though I've already caught some serious flack for this - we took naps. We were in Vegas. And we took naps. We slept in AND we took naps. We were on v-a-c-a-t-i-o-n.
Friday, we were practically run over by two huge guys wearing Harlem Globetrotters jerseys and large backpacks running down the street followed by cameramen. I joked that they were probably on The Amazing Race. And sure enough, they ran up to The Golden Gate casino and ran back down the street carrying a big black and yellow card clearly reading "The Amazing Race"! I don't watch the show, but it was still exciting.
The weather was unbelievable the whole time we were there. Friday and Saturday set records for the lowest highs in history! Love it! And I watched more baseball on Friday than I have my whole life. The Yankees took their sweet time and 15 innings to beat the Red Sox that night and we spent almost every minute of the game in one Sports Book or another, watching the game. The Yankees pulled it out for us, and even won us some more the next night. Woo hoo!
After learning Craps, I got brave and tried my hand at Roulette. And if you ever need some lucky numbers - you just let me know. I sat down with $40 and told the dealer I'd never played before. I picked my numbers and she helped me place my bets -- and a couple spins later I'd turned $40 into well over $100. I had no idea what was going on, though, and a few minutes later I was back down to $100 and decided to cash out. Not bad for a first-timer!
Vegas was wonderful wonderful wonderful, but the Grammar Queen never takes a vacation. This is a pic* of an ad on the back of a cab driver's seat. It took every manner I had not to rip it down.
That's right, folks. Dinning and Attractions. Gah.
There were two more signs that caught my eye - but I couldn't get photos so you'll have to take my word. One was at the top of the water slide at the pool. (Side bar: The pool at the Golden Nugget is built around a shark tank - very cool. The waterslide tube goes straight through the shark tank!) While waiting in line for the slide, I read the Rules and Warnings Sign. It included instructions as to what sliders should do in the event of an emergency that should require the "evacuation" of the slide. One of the instructions said that "sliders already in the slide should continue on to the bottom of the slide". We laughed pretty hard at that. Really? You mean if there's an emergency, I should keep moving down a rapidly-moving waterslide? I shouldn't stop. Turn around. And go backup the slide? Thanks for the instructions.
The other sign of note was on the airplane. Disclaimer on the back of the Emergency Procedure Card: "If you are unable to read and understand English, please notify a flight attendant immediately." Yeah.
We were so ready to get home to our little guy after three days away -- and Granny and Pop took such good care of him. He wore them out and Grandmother spent Sunday night warning telling me various ways that "he is just like his Dad". I can't thank them enough for sacrificing time and sleep and peace to give us a weekend to relax.
*That picture is literally the only one I have of our entire weekend. And it's taken with my phone. I took my camera with me, but didn't carry a bag or purse the whole time we were there -- only pockets. Apologies for the photo-less post.
It started raining about 6:30 and I wondered how long Jeff would brave the rain to mow the lawn. I peeked out the window to see him practically running behind the mower to get it done before it started raining any harder. A few minutes later I started to hear some pretty serious thunder and I could hear him banging around in the garage.
It went from kinda raining to full blown hail storm in about 10 minutes. During the 20ish minutes of hail it grew from dime-sized to well over golfball-sized. It was CRAZY loud in our house.
What has it been? 2 weeks since I last posted photos of the rascal? Well Grandpa Martin came to visit last weekend and I didn't get TOO many pictures - but what's mine is yours. The best part about Baby Toddler Picture Post Days is that the photos largely speak for themselves - not too much effort or necessary narration on my end. So feast your eyes on these.
Check out this face:
and more Dinner With Grandpa:
And a cute pic with Grandpa (and the remote...)
And this would be "Baby's First Lime". At dinner Saturday night, Grandpa expanded Colt's horizons to include sour citrus fruit. This expression is equal parts confusion, curiosity and delight. By the way, he came back for seconds!
Grandpa came bearing gifts (other than my Pampered Chef pitcher which I left at the condo in Greers Ferry - thanks Dad!)! He recently finished building a fence around the house in San Antonio and had several lengths of cedar leftover after chopping off the tops of the fence posts. So he made a box FULL of blocks for Colt. Some are cubes, some are brick-shaped. And can I just say - this boy is ALL ABOUT some blocks. Unfortunately, I don't have a photo of the blocks in action, but I do have this - a photo of Jeff trying to pull the switcheroo on Colt with the remotes. (Trust me - he knows the difference.)
The blocks saw quite a bit of action on Tuesday afternoon when I had to stay with Colt and work from home. I stacked them up and he knocked them over. I made my version of an "explosion" noise and he laughed maniacally. About 600 times before the novelty started to wear off. Yah blocks!
After Grandpa had to leave Sunday morning, we took Colt out for his daily routine of running around outside until he's appropriately exhausted enough for a nap or bedtime. It works quite well. Here he is in all his my-Mama-let-me-play-outside-in-my-jammies glory. Don't judge me. He's wearing shoes.
That stick is as essential to outside play as the remote control is to inside play. Colt finds that same stick every day, does NOT let go of it the entire time he plays outside, then when it's time to come in Jeff puts the stick in the bushes for safe keeping until the next day.
I love this picture - I think he looks like he should audition for Harry Potter.
There. That should scratch your photo itch for today.
Ok. One more.
That's all, folks. Our weekend in pictures. I hope to get the photo album updated soon - I can promise you I'm behind.
I know you've heard people say this -- they are pregnant and they weren't even trying. You may have said it yourself. We just started trying. I didn't even know they were trying. Trying.
At the risk of sounding (but with no intentions of being) thoughtless and disrespectful, what the hell does that mean? Trying? Think about this with me. I get that it's a process. I've been there. But what are you really sharing with people when you say that? What you're really saying is, we just started having sex with purpose. No more messin' around. This is serious business. We're trying.
When it comes to babies, nothing seems to be off limits. I came to terms long ago with the amount of "advice" parents receive about their children. In fact, just this weekend we were in Lewis & Clark in Springdale when the girl behind the counter (who easily looked old enough to have about 2 years of good solid babysitting experience under her belt) took one look at Colt walking across the floor, turned to me and said, "he's a toe walker. They don't grow out of that, you know. There's a guy who works downstairs that still walks on his toes." I didn't really know what to say, so I kinda half-smiled at her and walked in the opposite direction. Thanks, stranger. I thought you looked like an expert.
It starts when you're pregnant. It's as if pregnancy is the period of hazing before you officially become a member of The Club. Don't get me wrong. I am a proud, card-carrying member. For gosh sakes, I blog. I am clearly embracing The Mommyness of it all. I love that there is a whole community out there of people just like me who are real and helpful and, at times, clueless.
The Parenting Club. Where it's perfectly normal to talk about things like what color your kid's poop is and the pros and cons of sippy cups and whether or not you're, you know, trying.
After seeing things like this - I am always disappointed in myself for not coming up with a similarly bonehead idea and making a bajillion dollars. I don't even know how to prepare you for this so. Just. Watch.
If the video doesn't work, please please click here to get the full experience.
