zoo membership!

I've gone and done it. On Mother's Day, I bought a family membership to the Detroit Zoo for the year. So far, Bridget and I have been there twice—once by ourselves and once with my dad (both days have been Al's working days). And so far, Bridget hasn't made it through the zoo without falling asleep.

The thought has crossed my mind that perhaps I jumped the gun a little on the zoo membership—should I have waited until Bridget was (is) actually old enough to walk through most of the zoo? To really pay attention to the animals? But she had so much fun when we went with my dad this past Sunday that I don't have any doubts left. She played in the froggy fountain, she tried pushing and pulling her wagon, she pointed at birds and butterflies when she walked through the Wildlife Interpretive Gallery and Free Flight Aviary with dad (I couldn't go in since they don't allow wagons/strollers). She loves the play area. She may have even noticed an animal or two. And while it's definitely easier for me when I have adult company (I can go to the bathroom, for instance), it's a way to get us out of the house, outside, and active for fairly cheap (the family membership cost $69, includes parking, and is good until next Mother's Day).

I wish I had time to write about other things—the way Bridget tries to sing all the time now (especially to the ABC song the magnets on the fridge play); the way she desperately wants to help me while I'm making dinner each night; the way she dance, dance, dances and tries to jump, jump, jump (can't get her feet off the ground); and especially the way this girl loves to play in the water. But I'll have to save those for another post because I've got to get working. Until then, enjoy some zoo pics—I'll even break with my typical layout to bring you more photos and include captions.

Look, mommy! Water!

Note: Her dress is typically lighter in color—it's just soaked!

Papa, your face looks funny...

Funny. I don't remember letting her watch Popeye. 

This place Wears. Me. Out.

happy

Bridget melts my heart.

Saturday night was rough. I went to bed at 10:00, exhausted from a lack of sleep the night before (family + karaoke + beer + a toddler who gets up around 7:00 am = five hours of sleep). Around 11:30, Bridget woke up and started screaming. Highly unusual for my daughter. She wouldn't stop after I went in and covered her back up, so eventually I picked her up and went to rock her back to sleep in our borrowed lazyboy. But that didn't work, either. She kept screaming, but (also unusual), wasn't squirming—would just lay there screaming. I realized pretty quickly that she was having trouble breathing; she'd had a cold since Wednesday (and some nasty diarrhea to boot) and been incredibly snotty, and by the sounds of it she couldn't breathe very well through her nose. She was also incredibly hot; she kept sweating (ironically, she didn't seem to have a fever). I thought her little throat was probably sore, too, from all of the snot-drainage that had been going on that day—I know that it bothers me more when I try to lay down (breathing, drainage, etc.) than it does during the day, so I gave her some infant Tylenol and hoped she'd fall asleep. I asked Al to pull the humidifier/vaporizer out of her closet (yep, I just put it away within the last two weeks) and fill it with water and put some Vicks in it in anticipation of putting her down when she was sleeping. But since it's hard to get out of that chair when she's sleeping on top of me, I told Al to come check if he noticed I wasn't back yet and it was quiet.

For the next two hours, Al must have come out and checked on us two or three times. Bridget would calm down and be quiet, but wouldn't sleep, so I'd send him back to bed. In between the quiet times, the screaming would come. Finally, around 2:30, I decided that I'd try putting her into her crib during a quiet bout. I thought she'd breathe easier with the humidifier/vaporizer in the room and it had to be more comfortable (and not as hot) for her in her crib. All was well until I realized Al hadn't put the Vicks in the vaporizer. I did that and tried climbing back into my own bed but Bridget started screaming. I laid there for a minute or two listening and praying, exhausted, not quite sure what to do. Finally, a thought came to me: she wanted me, I wanted her in her room. I'd blow up the Aerobed (queen size), put it on the floor in her room, and she could sleep in it with me. (Now some of you are wondering why I didn't just move the humidifier/vaporizer into our room, but a) I am adamant about not wanting my kid(s) to sleep in my bed—it's mine and b) our bed is already crowded enough with two adults and a rottweiler, who might get a teensy bit jealous and passive-aggressive since she thinks the bed is hers and try to either sit on Bridget or crowd Bridget toward the end of the bed and lie in between us where she (the dog) thinks she belongs.)

It worked beautifully at first. Bridget was so happy to be out of her crib and on a mattress with me and cuddled with me. I was thanking God for inspiring the idea, glad that we would both finally be able to get some rest. That lasted for about five minutes. Then Bridget decided it was play time (she likes playing on Mommy and Daddy's bed during the day, jumping and falling on top of me and attacking me, and hey? Wasn't this the same thing?). I struggled with her and, yes, got a little mad and impatient (I keep reminding God at these times that I didn't ask to be taught/have patience, and he really doesn't need to test me like this). This went on for at least an hour or more until she finally wore herself out and decided that, yes, Mommy must be right and it's time for nighty-night. As she cuddled with me once more, she suddenly started saying the word that melted my heart and made me (almost) happier than I've ever been before: "Happy. Happy. Happy." I had no idea she knew the word and the way she says it—drags out the first syllable and puts a bit more emphasis on the second syllable than the first—and the very fact that she was saying it filled me with such joy and almost made me cry. I asked her, "Are you happy, Bridget?" and she turned her little face toward mine and said it again. She fell asleep shortly afterward. (Of course, I didn't; I was freezing by then and probably only slept half an hour to an hour between that time and 6:00 am when Al got up, waiting for him to bring me a blanket—I didn't want to move and wake her up again; those air mattresses can be noisy and rise/sink when someone gets on/off them.)

Bridget said happy again twice yesterday, both times when I was holding her and she was tired and cuddling with me. And last night, also while she was cuddling in with me, she turned to me, looked at me, and said, "I love." How could anyone not be in love with this little girl when she says/does things like that? I love her so, so much and am so blessed and thankful that I get to be a mom.

Of course, there are things that I could go without, but the good far outweighs the bad. I love that she says "happy" and "I love" right now, but her favorite word is actually "no." The fact that she answers every question with "no" tells me that she doesn't quite know what it means. Or perhaps it would be more accurate to say that she doesn't know what "yes" means yet (or how to say it, although she can nod her head and sometimes does while she's saying no). Because she definitely says no when a) we're doing something she doesn't want us to do, b) the dog(s—Mya or Presley, my sister's dog) is doing something she doesn't think the dog should do (oh, boy, picking up yelling at the dog already...), or c) when she's doing something she knows she's not supposed to do and I say "Bridget" in a certain way.

I'm also in the what size clothing and shoes, if any, to buy dilemma. Right now Bridget's wearing anywhere from 24 months to 3T size clothing. The waists on the pants/jeans are often too tight at 24 months/2T (or just barely fitting), but the length just started fitting her correctly (sometimes 2T and always 3T are way too long). I've bought a few skort-thingies (those skirts with panties/shorts underneath, whatever they're calling them now) and she has lots of dresses, and I'm just praying that the weather will get (stay) warm enough soon that I won't have to deal with that until fall. She's suddenly outgrown her size 4 shoes, but size 5 is still a bit too big; there's one pair of jelly sandals that works (never thought I'd be dressing my kid in jelly sandals!), but her velcro sandals/tennis shoes are too big/easy for her to get on and off by herself. She's also got very thick feet and many of the shoes don't fit her. I need barefoot weather!

I'm sure there's plenty that I've missed—like the fact that she sings and dances all the time now (but she's been doing it for a while—bad mommy doesn't do very good at recording those things) and tried to fix her hair when she was looking in the mirror the other day—but I've gone on for way too long, probably lost all four of my readers by now, and need to get to laundry/work. Til next time.

pirates, fang retraction, and phrases

"Arggh—ahoy, matey!" is something I won't be saying to Bridget anytime soon. Apparently, she's deathly afraid of pirates.

Yesterday, when I picked Bridget up at daycare, they were watching Barney or the Wiggles or some other ghastly children's programming like that (there will never be a big purple dinosaur in my house, let me tell you). Bridget was jumping on the trampoline (okay, her feet never left the surface, but she was trying) and bebopping to the music. She was having a grand old time, but apparently—according to Daycare Auntie—she screams and cries hysterically whenever a pirate makes an appearance on the show. She won't calm down until he disappears. As a parent, I'm glad I didn't witness it; I'd feel a little guilty about being so amused by something that scares my little girl so much. The only time I've seen that reaction out of her was when my friends' poodle, Boris, wanted to investigate her (and this coming from a kid that lives with—and climbs all over—a rottweiler. Sometimes I just don't get it).

Other than her unexplained fear of pirates, there are so many changes happening in Bridget's life that it's hard to keep up with them. The last time I blogged, I reported that Bridget's left fang had popped through her gums. Now I'll have to retract that statement, because it's retracted—the gums have since covered it over again, and neither tooth has broken through again. This happened before with her fourth tooth; the only thing I can figure is that her gums are swollen enough that, until the teeth get pretty far down there, they're not going to let the teeth show. The poor girl is the slowest tooth-grower I know and ends up chewing on her socks and anything else she can fit into her mouth to compensate (although I think the socks are more for the reaction she gets out of mommy when she does it—she seems quite proud/amused with herself when she sits there with a sock hanging out of her mouth and looks at me). Here's to wishing the teeth would break through and stay through, and fast!

As an English instructor, I'm amazed at how quickly my daughter is picking up language. On Monday (the 26th), she actually said her first full phrase: "Go in car." We had just eaten dinner at the local Coney Island and I was buckling her back into her seat when she said it. I had to ask Al if he heard it too, thinking I must be imagining things since I'd never heard her say one of those words before, let alone all three of them together in a phrase. But I wasn't imagining it: he heard it too. Of course, she hasn't said it since, but she has started saying another phrase over and over, even though she's not really saying it in context: "Bye-bye, Dada." She says it in the morning when I get her up (even if Al's usually at work), she says it when we're leaving the house to go to daycare, she says it while we're riding in the car, she says it instead of saying "na-na" (night-night) before bed. But she won't say it when I tell her to say goodbye when Al's on speaker phone. It figures.

Just this morning, another word came out of her mouth that I've never heard her say: "Gibby" (pronounced "Jibby"). Her own name! Well, one of her nicknames. One of the kids at daycare started calling her "Gibby" and "Gibbert" ("Jibbert") even though he knows her name's Bridget, and it stuck. She gets the biggest smile on her face when I say the name(s), because she knows that's what the other kids call her. And now she's chosen that name for herself—at least for now. So cute! (Although I'm sure she won't think so when she's a teen...I'll keep her just the way she is for a while, thank you. I can't just now imagine being the mother of a teenager.)

Well, the life of mommy is a balancing act, so I've got to get back to laundry and studying. But in case you're wondering, the picture here is of Bridget with her cousin, Lily, who just turned one a little over a week ago. This picture was taken at Lily's birthday party. Enjoy!

fangs

Another tooth broke through yesterday—the left "fang" (upper, left of center—I'm obviously not a dentist). And the right fang seems to be breaking through today (although last time I thought "any minute now" about one of Bridget's teeth breaking through the gums, it took two weeks). That makes six teeth altogether. What a big girl she is!

And I do mean big. Last week she had her one-year appointment (yes, one month late) and she was 28 pounds and 32 1/4 inches. Suddenly, her 24 month and some 2T pants fit her in length but are getting too small in the waist (she's 3T if you go by weight, 24 month/2T by height). Thank God dress/shorts season is drawing near and soon I really won't have to worry about pants until it gets cold again! I do love her in jeans, though—sometimes I wish she wasn't so tough to fit.

walking, talking, and blowing kisses—what a big girl!

It's been way too long since I posted, so even though I should be getting busy epoxying the laundry room floor (yay!), I'm taking a few minutes to write about my baby. I mean, toddler. She really is a big girl now, and it's becoming more and more obvious every day.

First, she's walking. Not all the time, mind you, but she walks a lot more (at home) than she crawls. The funny thing is she takes very careful, very deliberate individual steps and looks proud of herself the entire way. She started doing this Friday, April 2, when she took 12-15 steps at a time across the family room and made several trips. I've included a short video here, although that number of steps wasn't captured on video. (This is the salvagable portion of the video—my husband cut her head off in most of it! Never give the camera to him again, methinks.) She still prefers a finger to hold onto, but when she's playing by herself she likes to walk around carrying things. I'm sure the slow pace will pick up soon and then I'll be running to catch up with her, but it's so cute to see her wobble back and forth to try to maintain her balance at every step!

Bridget's also talking a lot more. She says Papa (she calls Steve that since she hears her cousins calling him that), but also says it when she's looking at pictures of my dad. He hasn't heard her say it yet, though! She says doggie, night-night, all gone, and a few other things that I can't quite figure out (but she sure thinks they're words!).

My favorite thing, though, is the way she kisses us. Her cousins Ella and Lily taught her how to blow kisses right around dad's birthday—the first time I saw her do it was on March 27. She puts her hand to her mouth and very dramatically pulls it away and says, "Mmmmuahhh!" But she also started kissing us, both when we ask her to and when we're not expecting it. Up until the last couple of days, they were always the big, open-mouthed kisses of babies when she'd lean in to our lips or cheeks and say, "Mmmuah!" over and over again—just the kind Aunt Carolyn likes (wink, wink). (They're not super wet, slobbery kisses, though—what a relief!) She's even kissed Mya (our dog) like that. But the last couple of days I've noticed that she's started putting her lips together sometimes at the beginning of a kiss. Already moving to the real kiss stage! I love being a mom.

bridget's first birthday

Yesterday, my little girl turned one. The fact that this little girl, this little life was once a part of me, literally inside me, still amazes me when I look at her. And I'm amazed when I suddenly realize she's getting bigger, older, smarter, etc. She's talking. She's almost walking. She laughs, cries, pouts, fakes tears, pretends to talk on the phone--amazing. To me, Bridget is just amazing.

We started the day by eating breakfast at Kerby's and getting pictures taken at Portrait Innovations--her first professional pictures, courtesy of Papa (my dad). The rest of the day, for me, was a blur--run home, frantically try to clean the kitchen, set the table, frost the cupcakes, prepare the taco dinner for fifteen adults and five children (two of whom didn't eat it, since they're still on the young side), and "direct" Al in house cleaning, chilling the beverages, and sorting through pictures to give to his family. (I'm bossy, and I'm blessed to have a husband who puts up with it even when he doesn't like it.) Thankfully my sister and dad arrived early to help (actually, dad was at breakfast and the photos with us). The party got off to a slow start, people arriving between 3:30 and 4:30 (the start time was 3:30), and I had to spend most of the time grinding coffee and making it for everyone in my two-cup coffee pot, over and over and over. Then, before I knew it, it was present time. Bridget wasn't really interested since she was getting hungry, so I rushed it and then made her bottle and set dinner out for everyone. I sat for about three minutes before giving up my seat and finally eating cold tacos and preparing Bridget's dinner (tacos), which her Grandma fed to her for me.

Then, finally, cake. Bridget loved being sung to by everyone and got off to a slow start on her birthday cake. (Seriously, the video is about twenty-five minutes long). But eventually she was covered in gray frosting (white frosting with black and dark pink flowers=one gray mess on a baby) and cake crumbs, and loving every minute of it. She managed to get some in her mouth, too, as was evidenced by the St. Patrick's Day colored poop in her diaper this morning. (Ha! How it turned that color from the frosting, I'll never know.) We had to hose her down with the shower head afterwards, which she also loved--this girl loves to play in water. Just doesn't like it on her face yet--but no fits, even if it gets in her eyes. Everyone left shortly afterward, and the evening was over and I was exhausted. My legs still hurt. I'm not used to standing that much in one day.

Seriously, it was a wonderful day. If my tone sounds a little melancholy, though, it's because it is. I was so busy preparing and playing hostess that I barely had time to spend with my daughter yesterday. I haven't been able to find my own camera for two months, and am not too fond of Al's, so he took most of the pictures--and I wish I had so many more, and a lot better pictures. (I'm not to fond of his point and click and then look shooting style. And half the time they're blurry and I have to delete them anyway. Sigh.) I'm not complaining, really, but I think next year I'll just do something small--maybe just a tiny me, Al, and Bridget affair--so that I can enjoy the day with my daughter. After all, the day is a celebration of her--and I want to be able to show her how much I love her, care for her, and how special she is to me (us) on this very special day.

ka, ka

"Ka, ka" is now actually one of two words: "Clap, clap" or "quack, quack" depending on the context. Likewise, there's only a slight difference between "baby" and "bye-bye"--baby is more drawn out and has more of an "iee" sound at the end of it, and when Bridget says bye-bye (and in the right context, too!) she makes little waving motions with her hands, palms turned in toward herself. For me, though, the funnest part of it all is beginning to understand what actually comes out of my daughter's mouth!

Last Sunday (February 28th) was Bridget's official first step, although an unsteady one at that. Since then, the most she's taken is three. Al encourages her every night to walk to him. Mostly, she tries to stretch her arms out and grab him while her butt's still leaning on the couch or until she end's up crouching over and plays with the carpet. Other times, she'll literally launch herself at him--fall forward with arms outstretched and take one or two steps on the way into his arms. The tiny steps she has taken have been pretty hesitant, but I'm counting on having to chase her around the house pretty soon.

This week is Bridget's last official week as a baby, although I'm thinking of her more and more as a toddler every day. Her first birthday is Saturday and it's been strange to me these past few weeks to be planning my kid's birthday party. I can't believe how fast the first year has gone--if this is any indication of the future, she'll be moving out before I know it. One thing's for sure: I couldn't have asked for a better kid to teach me how to be a mommy. I love her!