my name is...

Yesterday, I taught Bridget to answer the question, "What's your name?" She's known her name for a while—she always responds to it and has even said it when she felt like it—but she hadn't told anyone her name in response to the question up til then. Even now, she answers "Gibbert" (pronounced Jibbert) half the time, since that's what the daycare kids call her sometimes. Now we'll have to try to get her to say "Trick or Treat" for tonight. Last time I tried—when we went to Zoo Boo at the Detroit Zoo—she'd only say "treat." What can I say? I have a smart kid.

It's been a busy October, full of trips to the zoo and the petting farm, and I can't believe it's only a few hours away from being over. Bridget's come down with a coughing, snotty-nosed cold, so we're only going to take her out for about half an hour tonight and then hand out candy. Of course, this plan came about only this morning (two weeks after I had asked Al if I should buy candy and he said no), so instead of contaminating the nursery with Bridget's cold, we headed off to Target while Al went to church. You'd expect the leftover candy to be on clearance at this point (especially since they've had Christmas decorations up for two or three weeks), but no. Full price. Guess those discounts don't go up until tomorrow.

I'm getting in on a lot of firsts with Bridget. Last year marked the first year we (yest, my first too) ever handed out candy for Halloween, and this year was our first carving pumpkins (we did three Thursday, and Mya ate one of them yesterday). Bridget wanted to play under the sheet we put on the floor,  wouldn't touch the pumpkin guts with her hands, and got upset when her spoon wouldn't carve holes in her pumpkin the way our knives did in ours. It's also my and Bridget's first year trick or treating (I was deprived as a child ;)). I have to admit that I'm a little nervous about it—I'm not sure what I'm doing! :) Luckily, though, I've got a cute little scarecrow (once again, I made her costume) that should capture all of the attention and calm my nerves. Here's to hoping she has fun!

cupcake time!

Yesterday marked the eleventh year, to the day, that Al and I have known each other and been together. To celebrate, we went to dinner somewhere more expensive than Kerby's—Champp's. It was a much better meal and ended up being only slightly more than Kerby's ($3), and Bridget got her own ice cream sundae, which made her kick her legs and wiggle in her seat in delight. To top it off, when we got home I decided to have her "help" me make Halloween cupcakes for daycare (they should have just arrived there a few minutes ago, as long as Al didn't forget to deliver them along with Bridget). She poured the canola oil and the milk into the mixing bowl with a little help from me. The rest of the time, she helped by sampling the batter. Hey, someone's gotta do it!

My plan, after all of that sugar, was to wear her out by chasing her around the house again. But as I was cleaning up and putting the cupcakes in the oven, she decided on a different plan. She informed her daddy that she wanted to watch the Wiggles (I had to translate) instead of Dukes of Hazzard, which he was watching at the time. He complied and sat through two complete episodes of the Wiggles. Then we chased her a little, but she wasn't having that too much last night. Instead, she drank her milk and then played with her baby (the doll my friend Danny bought her for her birthday—I think it was her birthday, anyway) and her blocks, stuffing them all into the empty compartment on the bottom of our entertainment center. She would have been in there herself, but she doesn't fit. (She always tries to play "bye-bye" with us by coming to each of us with her lips pursed and her cheeks sucked in, ready for a kiss, and then tells us, "Bye-bye," goes to the entertainment center, and tries to squish herself into the bottom of it and close the glass door behind her. It doesn't work, so she does it all over again until she tires of it and goes on to something else.)

The Wiggles aren't the only television show Bridget requests, but I didn't realize it until two days ago and am still feigning ignorance so I won't have to endure the other one. For the past week, I thought she was saying "bunny." I figured she learned what a bunny was at daycare, and even took her by the bunny cage at the farm Beth works at and said, "Look, Bridget, bunnies!" Then, the other day when I put the Wiggles on demand, I realized what she was really saying. They preface the show with a commercial that has Barney in it. Bridget saw him and said "Bunny." Oh, no. Not in my house. I've hated the big purple dinosaur since he became popular when I was, oh, probably seventeen or eighteen, and I'm putting off watching Barney as long as I can. (And I hope that's forever.) Thankfully, Bridget's completely satisfied, instead, with the Wiggles, the Donut Man, or the dvd we have of the Laurie Berkner Band. If, and when, I am ever forced to watch Barney, I pray that God gives me the grace and patience to endure. ;)

sweet slumber

I was planning on starting my day three hours ago. I guess you could say that I did—just not in the way I had planned. A few minutes before my alarm was scheduled to go off at 5:00, Bridget started screaming. And with her screams, along went my plans: plans to brew a pot of coffee and spend some time reading my Bible, then get an early start on working for the day—6:30, 7:00 at the latest since Al had agreed to take Bridget in to daycare. My best working hours are in the mornings, so it's hard when they're interrupted for 2-3 hour stretches by getting Bridget up, giving her warm milk, getting her to daycare, and finding/making something for myself to eat for breakfast. Between taking her to daycare and picking her up, I often end up with only 5-6 hours to work in a day—not enough.

Anyway, I digress. Bridget's screams this morning were so loud that they woke Al up too, and that's quite a feat. When I walked into her room she was standing up in her crib, another unusual occurrence. She typically climbs up on her hands and knees and then stands up when she sees me rather than standing there waiting for me to come. I don't know if she wasn't feeling well or just had a bad dream, but as I picked her up, she said, "Mommy, go!" and pointed toward her bedroom door. Just as I had suspected. She wanted me to sleep with her for the rest of the night. I took her to the family room couch—our place for the middle-of-the-night crises, since I don't want to end up with a four-year-old in my bed in a few years—and we settled in. Of course, as soon as we were comfortable under our quilt, Mya came out and wanted to go outside. She usually gets up with me in the mornings, so it was quite natural. A bit inconvenient at that moment, but natural.

Not wanting to startle Bridget, I told her I was going to ask her daddy to let Mya out. He actually heard me when I yelled for him (he's got a selective hearing problem). But instead of going back to bed after letting Mya out and back in, he snuggled in on the couch on the other side of Bridget. Mya jumped up on his other side, and soon Al and Bridget were snoring away. I dozed a tiny bit, but for most of the next two-and-a-half hours, I shivered, tried to put my head and legs in a comfortable position, and tried to ignore the fact that my arm was in the irritating almost numb, falling asleep, but having enough sensation to hurt stage (Bridget was laying on it). And although I spent a lot of time trying not to worry about the work I had (have) to do and wasn't getting done, I took a few minutes to revel in how precious this scene was. Here I had my entire family on the couch in the early hours of the morning, all snuggled under one quilt and wanting to be close to each other. Trusting that somehow I'd get stuff done—and if I didn't, it really wouldn't matter too much in the long run—I realized that this was a sweet slumber after all.

i'm gonna get you...

Last night was so much fun!

Bridget likes to chase and be chased. Last night while her milk was warming up (she still likes to drink it warm in the morning and at night before bed) she looked at me and said, "Get you" with an air of expectancy. Of course, I responded, "I'm gonna get you" and went running after her. I'd chase her and catch her (you have to catch her, otherwise it isn't as fun) and do various things: blow raspberries on her tummy, throw her into Al's lap, spin her around in circles until both of us were dizzy, tickle her, etc. This went on for about five minutes and then Al decided he wanted in on the fun, too. He tried "getting her" too, but she just didn't seem as interested. So instead, he hid under the blanket and became her safe haven from me. She'd look at me and expect me to chase her, then run to him under the blanket and giggle that I couldn't come in. After about five minutes of that, Mya decided she just couldn't be left out of the fun any longer and tried jumping on the blanket (and Al and Bridget) or going under it in turns. That fifteen minute play session was a blast and (surprisingly, considering that I'm in pretty good shape right now) wore me out. It must have worn Bridget out, too, because she fell asleep really quickly after her milk. What a fun night!

getting it all down in cyberspace

My mom was notorious for forgetting things about my childhood, especially when it was convenient to forget them. Things like putting me to bed at 4:30 in the afternoon one day because my parents were having company for dinner and didn't want a little kid interrupting them. I distinctly remember going to bed during the summer while it was still daylight out; the shades weren't pulled down on my bedroom window and from my position in the top bunk, I could see kids running around and playing in the street. Mom had forgotten the 4:30 tidbit and used to swear (well, okay, mom never "swore" about anything, but she'd insist on it vehemently) that she never put me to bed early enough to see other kids playing, but then one day she was listening to her journal tapes (she'd audiotape herself or us talking) and, yep, there was the 4:30 confession. Then, of course, she conveniently forgot about the tape and, within a year, was back to swearing (insisting) that she never would have done that and I there must be something wrong with my memory. I'm not to the point of convenient memory loss yet with my daughter, but there are some things that I don't want to forget because they're just so precious. So, instead of audiotapes (which I'll find someday and ask God to tell mom, "Told ya so"), I'm using cyberspace, digital photos, and video.

I know I write this every time, but I cannot believe how fast Bridget's changing and growing up. Suddenly she's speaking in sentences. Her personality's shining through more and more, and she has pronounced opinions and big attitudes. And every day I can't help but believe how much I love and am blessed by this little girl.

Recently, Bridget's been telling people to give her high fives; proudly proclaiming, "I'm one!" with her finger stuck out in front of her; and letting everyone around her know that she's a funny girl (by literally saying, "I'm funny"). I've captured two of the three on video here. Al loves the way she runs—from the back you see her twisting her upper body back and forth with her arms stuck up in the air, kind-of like Phoebe in that Friends episode and wants to get that on video. She's also decided that the perfect place for her baby is in our bedroom closet on top of Al's work shirts. She loves Mya, and when we were at the park the other day and saw a man with a doberman, she was very concerned that he was taking Mya for a walk without us (she kept asking where Mya was going). And last night when I had a headache and was laying listlessly on the couch, she kept coming up to me, patting my face and back (we rub her back when we put her to bed), and giving me hugs and telling me, "Night night, mommy." She has the sweetest temperament. Well, at times.

It's becoming very apparent that Bridget's got my stubborn, I-want-it-my-way streak, because when she doesn't get her way she dramatically (and very deliberately) lays down on the floor, puts her head in her arms, and starts "sobbing." There are very rarely any real tears accompanying these tirades. She's also recently decided that she'd rather not go to bed alone, so after a year and a half of great bedtime routines, she's begun to make a fuss and try to connive her way into letting us fall asleep in our arms instead of her crib—and sleep with her all night if she happens to wake up and have her way about it. There have been a few times when I have ended up sleeping with her on the couch in the family room—it all started because she's been having a horrible time teething lately (her canines are all coming in) and she had a cold and/or allergies on top of it. But I'm determined not to make this a regular occurrence—and since I've had much more practice at being stubborn than she has, I'm sure I'll win out eventually. It's just the nights when I want something resembling sleep and she seems to be in a lot of pain that I give in (I'm a very light sleeper, so crying Bridget=no sleep for mommy. Al doesn't wake up enough to ever help in this area.).

All of these random thoughts/memories to say that I'm going to make more of an effort to get stuff committed to memory (and cyberspace) more often. Let's say, maybe twice a week. So see you next month. ;)