out of the blue

It's been a long, long, long time since I posted. See, it's hard being mommy and dissertating (a made-up verb my fellow PhDers and I use to describe the process of writing our dissertations) at the same time, and I've been taking much longer than I had hoped or anticipated. I've currently got about 60 pages and need to cut those down to 40 and then write another 120... and school starts in two weeks, and I'm teaching three classes and working in the writing center, and starting a new fitness boot camp on Saturday and training for a 10K that I'll run on September 18, and... well, you get the idea.

Bridget is so... big now. Grown up. Big girl. She's over three feet tall, somewhere between 35 and 38 pounds, and 29 months old. She talks all the time, is pretty stubborn and defiant at times (gee, wonder where she gets that from?), but most of the time she's a fun-loving, active, joyful little kid. Not a baby any more by any means, and I wouldn't even call her a toddler—she just seems too old for that. Her current favorite movie is a Yogi Bear movie that I picked up for $2.75, and there are some scenes where she just cracks up—she has the best laugh when she's full out laughing. She has a roll/close your eyes at the same time and raise your eyebrows and stick your chin down face that's quite amusing. Her favorite toys are little figures—the small LalaLoopsy are some favorites, but Happy and Grumpy (from Snow White) topped those, and she still asks for them even though she lost them over a month ago. She loves her mommy (makes me happy :) and her daddy (even though she says she doesn't sometimes :). And although this is short and sweet, I've got to go—back to dissertating. 

all good things...

I've made up my mind: I'm taking the Christmas trees down today. I'm the type that usually gets them down around New Year's, but I've been putting it off this year for several reasons. One of them, the most precious one, is Bridget's morning routine since they've been up.

Since Bridget's been in her toddler bed (we switched the crib over on Thanksgiving day), she doesn't call my name when she wakes up anymore and I don't go in to get her. Instead, if I hear the sounds of her waking (or if it's just time to get her up), I open her bedroom door and let her get up on her own. She grabs Violet (her Leap Frog—I think—doggie that sings and talks to her), climbs down from the opening in her toddler rail, and comes into the hallway to find me. She reaches her arm out to me and makes a "come here" motion with her free hand, saying, "Come on, Mommy!" and waits for me to follow her back into her room. At that point, she says, "Tree!" and looks at me expectantly. (She has a little Christmas tree in her room, an idea I picked up from my friend Jen.) I walk over to the tree and bend down, and she says, "Wake up, tree! Wake up!" and I plug it in and on come the lights. Bridget smiles, turns around, and tells me, "Come on," again, ushering me out of the room and pulling the door shut behind her. We go into the family room, in which another small tree sits dark. "Wake up, tree! Wake up!" Bridget says until I get it plugged in and turned on. With the two small trees awake, she leads me into the kitchen and tells me that she wants her milk, which usually sits waiting for her, already warmed up (yep—she still likes to drink it warm).

Bridget takes a break from her job of waking up the trees to drink her milk while she's sitting in my lap and watching "Bailey" (Ben Bailey and the rest of the Fox 2 News crew), waving goodbye to the news anchors any time they're getting ready to go on a commercial break and saying, "Hi, Bailey!" when Ben comes on the screen (she's picked this up from me saying, "Let's watch Ben Bailey" in the mornings—the weather's what I really want, and ever since she was a few months old, she's always looked up at the television when he started talking). But as soon as she's done with her milk, Bailey doesn't matter anymore. She shoots her arm holding the sippy cup straight up in the air, indicating that she wants me to take it and put it on the counter behind me (our family room/kitchen/dining room are open to each other, and our couch backs up to the counter with some cabinets and our stove in it). Then she climbs down off of my lap and the couch and once again instructs me, "Come on, mommy!" We head into the living room where the big Christmas tree sits, and she tells it (or her monkey ornament, which hangs on it, if it catches her eye), "Wake up, tree! Wake up, monkey!" until I flip the switch to turn it on. Her job done, she turns to her toys and starts to play.

But like I said, the trees are coming down today. I'll miss the morning routine, and I'm sure Bridget will too, for a while (as well as the trees themselves). But my little girl is amazingly adaptable, and I'm sure she'll come up with a routine just as heartwarming to replace it. I'll just have to wait and see what tomorrow morning brings.

the story of the i love yous

First, let me say I can't believe it's been over a month since I posted already. So much for twice a week! But now, to begin....

Bridget can say so many words, so many sentences, ask so many questions that it's astounding. I've given up trying to keep track of everything, because she is truly a little talker now. But until last week (and still quite frequently), she absolutely, positively refused to say "I love you." I knew that if she wanted to say it, she could; she just wouldn't.

One morning when I dropped Bridget off at daycare, I was talking to Auntie (the one who takes care of her) about her refusal to say the phrase. Looking back, I'm glad I didn't hear, "Oh, she says it all the time here!" Nope. Instead, it was the same story: Bridget refused to say I love you. She'd repeat other words and phrases if she felt like it, but when it came to those three words, never. But the next day when I picked her up, I found out that they had at least gotten her to sing the (dreaded, since I always hated it) "I Love You" song by Barney. "It was so cute," Auntie told me, and proceeded to try to get Bridget to sing it for me. She wouldn't.

The next day was Saturday, and when I put her "down" for her nap (she has her toddler rail up now, so it's more like I close the door, she gets out of bed and puts everything she can carry—butt wipes, butt paste, toys, etc.—into her bed, and then proceeds to play for half an hour before falling asleep), I heard her in her room playing and talking to her toys. Suddenly, she began saying, loudly and clearly, "I love you. I love you, Barney."

My heart both melted and groaned at once. Hearing my daughter's little voice saying I love you so clearly was so precious—and here she was saying it to the purple dinosaur that I've despised for so many years (and that, by the way, she doesn't have a picture, toy, or any other type of image of in her room—this was all her imagination, apparently). Still, it was cute; she loves Barney and I've learned to live with it (although watching episode after episode gets very tiresome). But after her nap, she still refused to say it to me. Of course.

Later that night, Al came home and we ate and played like usual. Before bedtime, I took her in her room to change her diaper and put her jammies on (mommy—yes, that's me—always does a "jammie time" dance in a very poor imitation of Hammer Time), I asked Bridget again if she loved me. She said no. (I've gotten used to this by now.) I started singing the dreaded song. She said no, wanting me to stop. I asked again, "Do you love me?" To my surprise, this time she said yes! I clapped and cheered (she always loves that type of encouragement) and said, "Say 'I love you, Daddy,'" nodding to Al, who was standing in the door. "I love you, Daddy," came the reply in that twangy little accent of hers (no idea where she picked that up, but it sure sounds like she's got one). We both clapped and cheered, and it didn't matter that she didn't (and still hasn't) said the sentence to me. She's finally beginning to utter those three little words that matter most to us. And we love it.

my little trend-setter

Bridget's quickly becoming a trend-setter. I can just see it now: the latest buzz-word that's storming the nation, popping out of mouths everywhere, all started by an almost (in two days) twenty-month-old girl: Not.

Huh? Yes, Bridget's latest favorite word is not. She says a million things by now—I can't keep up and she surprises me every day—but what I hear most often lately, whether she's playing and in a good mood or just plain cranky and uncooperative, is not. And the context she uses it in is just so funny that even if she's made herself go limp and is on the floor trying to throw a mini-fit, I can't help but at least giggle and smile inwardly. Bridget's past her first no phase—she never really used it correctly, anyway, because she didn't know the word yes yet and would answer no to every question—and has decided that not is the appropriate word to use in situations that would normally require no. So: "Bridget, let's go change your diaper."

"Not!" as she walks the other way and continues to play.

Or in the car: "Bridget, how old are you?"

"Not!" as my tired, cranky girl struggles against the five-point harness in her car seat.

"Come on, Bridget, how old are you? What's your name?"

"Not, mommy!" in her most insistent tone. (This is when I stop teasing her just for the sake of hearing her say not.)

Like I said, trend-setter. Buzz-word. Not.

what a weekend

Our whirlwind weekend has come to an end. And what a weekend it was.

I've already mentioned that we were out of town at my Large MidWestern State University for my preliminary oral exam for my PhD (the step before writing the dissertation, the only thing I have left to do—well, besides defend the thing and file bunches of paperwork and pay bunches of money—before graduating for the last time in my life). It's a 600 mile trip, and as I mentioned on facebook, it's a lot longer trip with a 19-month old (20 months the end of this week!) in the car. But all in all, Bridget did wonderfully for spending approximately 26 hours on the road between Thursday morning and Saturday night. But, to my chagrin, we are no longer a Barney-free household.

Thursday's trip went fairly well. It took us approximately 11.5 hours to reach our destination, and that included two hour-long stops. But by the time we headed two hours north to visit some friends after my exam, Bridget had had it. The last hour was painful for all of us: Bridget spent the time screaming and pushing against her restraints, Al spent the time driving (and toward the end, telling Bridget impatiently to be quiet), and I spent the time trying (and failing) to get some rest. Our time with our friends Stephanie and Lee more than made up for it, though. Bridget loved Lee and spent most of the time taking turns banging on his RockStar drum set with him. My only regret about that part of the trip is that we couldn't spend another day and night—we would have all loved the time out of the car and visiting/playing with friends! (Another time.) But since we did have to get back so that Al could work on Sunday, Al and I made what I deem a very wise decision: we stopped at Target before we left town, bought a portable DVD player (I already have one, but haven't been able to find the charger/power cord for several months), and—gasp—some Barney DVDs.

Now, don't get me wrong. Now that I'm older and not in my late teens (which I was when Barney came out), I don't find Barney nearly as annoying as I did previously. And my daughter loves him. But she loves, loves, loves the Wiggles, and I would have much rather preferred their DVDs to Barney. But those DVDs are not in abundance at Target like Barney's are. Maybe it's the Australian thing—I don't know. But somehow, over the past five days, we have now accumulated five Barney DVDs and one CD—and only one Wiggles DVD, which I bought yesterday to provide some more balance to my life. And somehow over the past two weeks, my daughter has become a television addict like her daddy, always asking for Wiggles or Barney. And I really, really don't like Barney's closing song to every single episode: "I love you, you love me, we're a happy family..." Sigh...at least it's not The Elephant Show. I would put my foot down for that one.

Oh, yeah—back to the weekend—we basically spent about 10 of the 12 hour drive home watching Barney DVDs and arrived home—with an extra dog (my sister's) in tow—around 11pm EDT. Thank God for that extra hour Saturday night (and the safe trip home). We needed it!

easy-peasy

We took a family road trip yesterday and wound up in the middle of nowhere. On purpose, of course, because that's where the school that I'm getting my PhD is located. Actually, there's a lot more in here-nowhere than a lot of other nowheres, but I digress. The point is, we're out of town.

Our hotel room is great, and one I'll definitely come back to when I defend (the step after actually writing my dissertation, which is next) and graduate (May, I hope). It's a decently-priced residential suite hotel, which means each room has its own kitchenette (a place to keep Bridget's milk), a couch, and bedroom(s) (our room is actually a studio, so we're sans the bedroom, but still nice and roomy). Plenty of room to set up Bridget's pack-n-play. Only last night, after lights out, Bridget decided she'd rather play or sleep with mommy and daddy (whichever we'd let her get away with) than stay in it. Within thirty seconds of climbing into bed, I heard a quiet thump. Is that? I thought, and listened for little footsteps. The carpeting's too thick for hearing baby footsteps, apparently, but Bridget's not that good at finding her way around in the dark in an unfamiliar room yet. Next thing I know, we hear her bump into something (gently) and kind-of whisper (like she was trying to sneak around but got a surprise). With a sense of amazement in his voice, Al said, "She climbed out!" We turned on the light and there she was, smiling and very proud of herself as she tried to run and play. Guess who slept in our bed last night? (I'm just hoping she doesn't figure out she can do the same thing in her crib...and if she does, it won't be our bed she ends up in. That's a rule I'm firm about: no kids in bed with me at home. It does mean that I end up spending a few nights on the couch with her, though....)

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. ;)

moo

My sister, Beth, has taken on another job—a super-fun one at a petting farm. Bridget and I went out to see her on Saturday, and at first Bridget was intimidated by the animals. I blame it on the llama. I was holding a tray of carrots in my left hand, and Bridget on my left arm. We were walking around the barn feeding the animals when the llama stretched out its neck, right to Bridget's side, and started eating the carrots! It took a while for her to want to get down among the animals after that.

Bridget warmed up to running around on her own when we went to the pond. Ignoring the geese and ducks, she proceeded to climb up the one step to the porch/dock they have there, and down it. Up it, and down it. Up it, and down it. When mommy (yes, me) got bored, I encouraged her to walk farther along the pond. Still ignoring the geese, she saw a family come out from behind the trees on the far side of the pond. She went running that way, and soon we found ourselves in a pathway between the cow pasture and the trees lining the pond. The pathway ended at a gate, closed and chained, barring entry into the cow pasture. The shiny silver chain attracted Bridget and she immediately began playing with it—tugging at it, trying to get it loose, and pulling at the gate itself trying to open it. So cute! I thought, and probably told her. I snapped a few pictures and watched her as she played. Suddenly, I noticed a sound. A loud, mooing sound. I looked back and all of the cows in the pasture were looking our way and mooing earnestly (and angrily, I imagined). Every single one of them. Uh, oops.

When I got Bridget away from the gate and headed back toward the pond, a steer with long horns came charging at the fence, still mooing. He didn't come all the way to the fence, though—he stopped at the trough and seemed quite disappointed to find it empty. A few more cows stood there staring at us and mooing, and some of the little ones even came up to the fence to be scratched. Bridget looked at them but wouldn't touch them—she acted more interested in the stick she had picked up than in the cows. I think she was still a bit intimidated at that point.

While we were there, Beth took Bridget on her first pony ride—she was quite intimidated at first, but loved it when the pony started moving and kept trying to go back to the pony corral afterward—and on her first hay ride, which Bridget also loved. We had so much fun and I'll definitely go back again—Bridget loved it! By the time I was ready to leave, Bridget was running back and forth through the barn, letting the bunnies nibble on her fingers, going up to the youngest pony and the baby goats, and trying to steal other people's strollers to push around. She didn't want to leave! But since I hadn't had lunch and she hadn't had a nap and it was already after 4:00, I had to end the fun. Don't worry, Bridget—there will be a next time!

time flies...

Papa & Bridget

Suddenly, I'm the mother of a toddler. A definite toddler. I know she's been a toddler for a while now, but Bridget's been growing so quickly—intellectually and emotionally—in the past few weeks that it's impossible for me to keep up. It's amazing how these little ones grow!

Bridget's vocabulary has grown by leaps and bounds, and it's very common for her to speak to us in phrases, short sentences, and short questions now. She learns new words and phrases every day and has taken to calling me "honey" (have no idea where she got that from), but I keep reminding her, "Hey, I'm mommy to you!" When she sees me cry (which I've done when I've had a huge migraine, for example), she asks me, "Are you crying?" (or says, "Don't cry") and puts her arm around me and pats my back trying to console me. That is one of the most precious things to me—Bridget has such a sweet spirit and is so caring and loving! She's also quite funny and happy. It's such a joy to have her around and I only regret that I have to have her in daycare and can't be with her more myself. I'm consoled by the fact that the interaction with the other kids is great for her and she loves it—but I still miss my little girl!

To my surprise, she has also taken quite an interest lately in the toilet. I have always let her come in with me, and with her growing interest in flushing for me and washing her hands, I decided to go ahead and buy her a potty chair of her own. I bought it last Thursday (the 9th) and she pooped in it that night—and the next night! Since then the novelty's worn off a bit and she hasn't been as interested in sitting on it and wiping her butt (that's her favorite part, besides putting the lid down—which she does with more consistency than Al), but that's okay. I'm going to go the no-pressure route and keep letting her come in with me and then use her own when she wants to (she tells me "a (on) potty" when she is interested) and just wear diapers when she doesn't. Although I wouldn't mind going without the cost of diapers!

Sigh. I love writing about my little girl, but now I've got to work on that dissertation. Fun, fun, fun!

i'm so behind, but this is too good to pass up

Within the last hour, Bridget has taken to calling her daddy "Al." That's his name, of course. It's just funny to hear her yelling out her name after I call out to him without thinking twice about it.

Bridget's spent the last sixteen days with her daddy since I've been at this comprehensive exam for my PhD (tomorrow's the last full day, thank God—and yes, that's what I'm behind on). They've been having fun and she's learned to do things that I would never in a million years have let her try, like Evel Knievel acts that she got from watching a Ninja Warrior marathon. But I haven't heard her swear yet (which is good since Al's been around the dog, too) and I'm infinitely grateful to him for taking care of her and letting me do this. It just gets me one step closer to graduating in May and being out of school (as a student) for good. How strange it will be when that day comes. 

these are a few of my favorite things...

1. Talking. This past week, it's "Bye, everybody!" But it comes out so garbled that no one but me would really recognize what she's trying to say...
2. Smooching. Yesterday she saw Al and I kiss each other (just a peck on the lips) and picked up on the sound that it made. She's been sucking in and puckering up her lips trying to imitate the sound ever since. My baby's first "real" kisses. 
3. Dancing. She'll pound her feet on the floor in rapid succession (while standing—I guess it's a knees bent, butt out version of running in place) when she hears music she likes or other random moments. Sometimes, you just gotta dance. 
4. Singing. Although the only recognizable song is the ABCs, but only because she sings it while her fridge magnet is playing. 
5. Interacting with Mya. Although the interaction is pretty much one-sided—Mya really doesn't know what to do about her. Bridget talks to Mya, pets and hugs her, calls her by name ("My!"), tells me when Mya wants to go (or is) outside, feeds her her dinner (Bridget already knows how to get rid of food she doesn't want), tells her "No!" while pointing at her, and tries to walk her on her leash. 
6. Hugging and snuggling.
7. Whispering "happy" at random moments when she is. Happy, that is. This is my absolute favorite thing.

she makes me smile

I love it when Bridget wakes up happy in the morning. She just starts talking and calls out to me. I wish I could go in, pick her up, swing her around in my arms, and cuddle with her—my usual morning routine. But I'm in day four of my seventeen-day comprehensive exam for my PhD, and it's the first day that I'm able to stay put and keep writing since it's the first day that Al's had off. I need to take advantage of that and let him take care of her—but I miss her! Back to work...

spoon-fed

Yesterday, Bridget spoon-fed herself applesauce for the first time. She's used a spoon/fork herself, but I've never let her do an entire meal for fear it would end up all over my kitchen and my daughter. I held the applesauce (otherwise I just might have been right) and held a hand under her chin, and she actually got about 75% of it in her mouth. Such a big girl!

um...(jibber jabber)

Gibby jabs nonstop. As in, jibber jabber. Her nickname, given to her by one of the kids at daycare (Bridget morphed to Gibert, which became Gibby—both pronounced with a soft g like a j), seems fitting.

Lately, Bridget holds long, serious, one-on-one conversations with Al and me. She'll either be sitting on our laps or laying on us, stomach to stomach, with her face right in ours and those big hazel eyes open wide. Every conversation—well, every sentence, actually—begins with "Um..." Then she launches into whatever it is she's trying to say. I use the word sentence loosely here—her jibber is about as long as a sentence, after which she'll pause and look at us waiting for us to reply. And sometimes she's definitely not satisfied with our reply, like it doesn't seem to fit and she's onto us—onto the fact that we can't understand a word she's saying. Because in her mind, it's obvious that she's actually saying something. Something that we should understand. Those sentences come out sounding awfully alike each time she starts a conversation; it's just that she's not speaking English. American English, standard English, none of the above. But she'll continue trying, looking at us each time for a response, and so I try to alternate between things like "What?" "Really?" "Wow." "Uh-huh." "No." "Yeah?" and "Bridget, I can't understand a word you're saying."

The funny thing is that I feel so bad—guilty, almost—that I can't understand her. Maybe this stems from the fact that I do understand a lot more of her words than other people do. Unlike her cousin, Lily, Bridget's not big in the enunciation department so words like "outside" come out like "ah-iye." But she's said them often enough within context—say, when Mya's going outside, or she goes to the door to look at Mya outside and points at her and says it—that I know the word she's trying to pronounce. And it's unfortunate that she's not too good at the "sssss" sound yet, because some words come out sounding, well, not that great (as in What are you teaching your daughter? as I'm sure some people think when sock comes out sounding like cock and it's not obvious what she's talking about since she alternates between calling her slippers socks and sjhoooozzz). But I'm confident that in a few months I'll be able to understand her better and so will others—I hope. (There's a kid at her daycare that's two-something and I still can't understand him very well.) And since I talk more (in general) than her daddy, I'm hoping she picks up on my good grammar, too! (Let's just say as an English teacher, listening to some phrases that come out of Al's mouth or listening to him tell a story only using vague pronouns instead of differentiating between characters drives me crazy.) Until then, I'll just stare into those big eyes and love listening to the sound of her voice.

ready, jump!

Late last week, Bridget started jumping. At least, she thinks she's jumping. And it's one of the cutest things I've ever seen (apart from the way she says, "Wow!" or "Whoa!" when she sees something that amazes or surprises her).

On Friday or Saturday night, I noticed that Bridget would step up onto our fireplace landing, step to the edge, swing her arms back, and step off. I noticed that she was doing this because she'd then look at me, clap, and say, "Yay!" expecting me to do the same. The way she was swinging her arms back and bending her knees made it pretty obvious what she was trying to do: jump, probably just like the big kids at daycare do. It became a game. She'd step up onto the bricks and walk to the edge, I'd say, "Ready? Jump!" and she'd swing her arms back, bend her knees, and step off and look at me like she'd accomplished something so big, so grand, I couldn't help but be amazed and cheer. She's so pleased with herself that she's kept it up every night since (and apparently did it without the arm-swinging the day before I saw it) and has Al and me cheering up a storm. Yay, Bridget!

water water water...

If there's one thing Bridget would prefer to do over all others, it would be to play in the water. This girl loves getting wet!

Okay, technically, it's not the getting wet part that Bridget loves, although she doesn't seem to mind it (unless the water gets near her eyes, and she's pretty calm about that now, too—but it's clear she still doesn't like it). The part that Bridget loves the most is watching the water flow. Her favorite water-time play activity (and even bath-time activity) is to use a cup or a bowl (any type of container will do), scoop up the water, and pour it back out. If she can't scoop it but it's running (from a tap or a fountain, for instance), she'll put her hands under it and watch the water flow through her fingers. Both Al and I have gotten pool passes this year (our association has a pool), and even though Bridget's only been there a total of three times, she now cries and fusses if we take a walk and pass the pool without going in it (and this is from the other side of the parking lot, a couple hundred feet away). We'll take her in and walk around with her, and she'll play with her cups, kick her feet, float around a little, giggle if we spin her in circles—I've got a little water bug on my hands. Too bad her skin is as fair as mine—the girl's spending the summer doused in sunscreen!

The great thing about all of this outdoor fun? When Bridget's playing in the water, she's active—actually, she's almost always active, come to think of it. But water is fun for her, passes the time peacefully for mommy, and wears her out. She gets her exercise in and then gets a good, long rest afterward. I'm taking Bridget to a local waterpark Saturday and can't wait to watch her have fun—and I'm excited about taking her to Lake Michigan later this summer, too. Good times ahead!