a bit of confusion

For the past week, whenever I've gone to pick up Bridget from daycare she greets me with a huge smile, outstretched arms with elbows and palms turned up, and a loud, clear greeting: "Dada!" Try as I might to correct her, she's been thinking I'm Dada for some reason. And yesterday when Al picked her up, she yelled, "Mama!"

I cracked up when I heard that. She's known who Dada is for months now, but really only says Mama when she's tired and cranky and then it's more like a cry: "Mom-ma-Mom-Ma-Mom-Ma." Somewhere along the way, though, she got a little confused. So yesterday when she did it to me again at home (I love the way she twists her arms upward when she wants to be picked up!) I asked her, "Who am I?" before I would pick her up. She hesitated, looked at me for a couple of seconds, and said, "Momma!" That's right, kiddo. I'm your mommy, not your daddy.

I know I should just stop here, keep the post to one topic, but I can't resist since I'm taking the time to blog. Bridget is an avid talker; she talks almost non-stop. Trouble is, right now she's talking her own language. She even "talks" on the phone all the time—she will hold up any random object, like my keys, a toy, my actual cell phone to her ear and say, "Hello? Hi?" and then proceed into a conversation with someone over something in her secret language. She'll keep at it for five to ten minutes at a time and has been doing it for more than a month now. It's hilarious. She also knows (understands) much more than she lets on. I know this from the random words she pops up with:

• "Ready?": She said this when Beth was over and we were getting ready to go to Dad's for Father's Day.
• "Shoes": She said this the first time when she saw her shoe on her floor, picked it up, and handed it to me. Now she says it all the time, only it comes out more like "szoooz."
• "Cheese": I often have to bribe Mya to come in the house by offering her cheese. Now Bridget stands right next to Mya at the fridge waiting for her piece. This also comes out like "zeeeez."
• "Shh": I held my finger over my lips and told her, "Shhh" a couple of weeks ago while cousin Lily was sleeping, and did it again while we were playing. Since then, she's been holding her own finger up to her lips saying, "jjjshhjj" (that s-h combo is a bit hard on her, apparently!). 
• "Cockadoodle-doo!": Must have learned this one at day care. This one comes out as "cock-cock [pause] do-doo!"

There are more that I can't think of at the moment, but I'm telling you—being a mom at this stage is fun! 

an explosion of unnatural proportions

Bridget's teething. Those fangs that retracted before finally, officially, popped through on our wedding anniversary (June 10) and now the bottom ones are making their way through the gums. And since Bridget pulled my finger into her mouth the other day so she could gnaw on it, I'm pretty sure the molars are growing (although at the rate she grows teeth, they may not pop through for another four months). Along with the teething, Bridget's immune system is down, something I've come to expect now: She's got an allergic reaction to something (a rash all over her body, although it doesn't seem to bother her); a hacking, raspy cough; and a horrible diaper rash, thanks to the numerous explosions of poop she's been having recently. Last night, though, there was an Explosion of Unnatural Proportions. Uck, uck, uck. I'm blogging about this precisely so she'll read about it sometime in the future.

I was busy preparing dinner, trying to have it ready for when Al walked in the door. The grill was warming up, the salmon was in the grill basket, the water for the four-cheese ravioli was about to boil, and I was making room for the skillet for the spinach on the stove-top. Bridget was "making dinner," too, busy at her play kitchen with her pots and pans (I had to move it into the actual kitchen since she always wants to help and it's hard to hold a kid as heavy as her while I'm cooking—I actually pulled my quad the other day just from holding her). She was having a grand old time and came to show me what she was "cooking." That's when I realized that her hands were all dirty; she had gotten into something. No, wait—that was, it was poop. And it was on her feet, on her legs, on the floor, on everything she touched. It was 7:09, and I should have been popping the salmon on the grill and the ravioli into the now-boiling water, but I rushed around trying to clear the area surrounding the sink and the sink itself so I could clean her up (I had bathed Mya in the bathtub earlier that day and hadn't been able to clean it up yet, of course). All the while, she was oblivious to my consternation, walking around, spreading more poop, and threatening to grab onto my pantlegs. I began to strip off her clothes and she thought it was a game and tried to run away. When I finally got off all of the clothes (the diaper, along with her skirt, went into the trash), I dumped her right in the kitchen sink and began to hose her down. Al pulled up, I yelled through the door that I needed help, and he took over the hose duties while I rushed to finish (start?) making dinner.

It was as I was cooking, going back and forth between the grill and the kitchen, that I realized the Enormous Unusual Proportions of this explosion of poop. There was poop on the kitchen floor and on Bridget's play kitchen and toys. There was poop on the dog dish. There was poop on the carpet and on the riser between the kitchen and family room. There was poop on the fireplace bricks. There is probably still poop that I haven't discovered lurking somewhere about. Poop, everywhere. Everywhere, poop.

To be fair to Bridget, I'm pretty sure the diaper she had on was too small. It looked like it. It wasn't hers, but it was available when she needed to be changed at daycare. But even if it was (or would have been) the right size, she'd already pooped out of her pants twice this week, a consequence (in my mind) of teething and an overall compromised immune system. If my mom would have been alive and around last night, she would have been gagging uncontrollably and probably would have refused to eat dinner after witnessing such an explosion. As it was, I finally got dinner on the table and we finished out the night in high spirits (Bridget, especially). Compromised immune system and Explosions of Unnatural Proportions beside, not much slows my little girl down.

cousin weekend

One thing I know for sure that Bridget loves: her cousins. And watching her when she's with them is just hilarious.

Our "cousin weekend" started on Friday. I was holding Bridget so she could look at the pictures on the fridge and she pointed to the picture of Noah. I asked her, "Can you say Noah?" and she said it. Over and over and over again, Friday and Saturday. She's got this nasally tone when she says it, and drags out each syllable. I even got her to say it on the phone to Erik and Meaghan (Noah had already gone to bed).

On Saturday, cousin Andy graduated from high school and we went to a late dinner with the family. We didn't make it all the way through (Bridget started getting fussy when she got really, really tired—it was already about 9:30/9:45, and she usually goes to bed by 9:00 pm), but before we were seated, she was having a ball being goofy. At one point, I was holding her (this time so she wouldn't launch herself off of the bench Al had been sitting on with her) and we were standing right in front of Neil, who's, um, twelve? Thirteen? Somewhere around there. He really likes Bridget, but he's also shy, so when we're all around he doesn't really interact with her much. But Bridget is such an extrovert that she was saying hi and talking to him so much that he couldn't help but be drawn in. He made a face at her and stuck his tongue out at her and that did it. Instant giggles (actually, more like guffaws in terms of her levels of laughter). She did it right back, too, of course. The next few minutes there were lots of funny faces, laughs, and tongues sticking out between the two of them. And when we got seated and Neil ended up at one end of the table (at the head) and us at the other (foot?), she looked down, saw him, and started laughing and sticking her tongue out at him from there. She'd laugh even when he wasn't looking at her. She just loves Neil! Too bad I forgot my camera that night.

On Sunday, Bridget was in a great mood all day. We ate breakfast, went to get dad from the hospital, dropped him off and went to get his meds, and then went back to his house for the afternoon. Ryan, Rachel, Ella, and Lily came over late afternoon/early evening, and when I asked her who was here, she went to the door and started pounding on it and yelling, "Da-daaa!" over and over (lately, she's been calling everyone that, including me sometimes, even though she definitely knows who Al is—I think it's just easier for her to use the same name for everyone rather than learn how to say all of those names). When they got inside, the first thing she wanted to do was to hug Lily, but Lily was sleeping. Boy, was she happy when Lily woke up. She wouldn't stop patting her shoulder, hugging her, and kissing her. (Sometimes she was a little too enthusiastic and we had to tell her to be "soft"—those hugs can be killers!) Later, I got to play hide and seek with Ella. We got down dad's flashlight and went hiding in the bathroom down the hall with the lights off and Bridget, Lily, and Ryan came to find us. When Ryan would open the door, Ella would scream and laugh, Lily would laugh, and  Bridget would scream in delight (my daughter can be LOUD!). We had so much fun! At one point while we were hiding, Ella turned to me and said, "Hold me!" That's when I took the pictures of her that you see here. She must have been upset with me for leaving because she wouldn't hug or kiss me goodbye. But it made me feel great, because I got to play with my niece and knew she had fun.

Post cousin weekend (yesterday), I had some of those, "Awww!" moments with Bridget. Walking through Costco and pushing her in a cart, I leaned over and asked Bridget for a kiss. She wouldn't kiss me but reached out to hug me instead, patting my bag and holding on tight, giving me a good long hug. And she kept doing it. I'd pull away, she'd put her arms out again. So there I was, walking through Costco bent over the cart and hugging my little girl (good thing they're big, tall carts and I'm not six feet tall!). I'd say "I love you" or kiss her on the forehead and she'd do it again. This even continued at home—she was eating dinner and suddenly wanted to reach out and give me a hug, and when I pulled away and said "I love you," she reached for me again. So sweet! But now I've really got to work (sigh). Til next time.

woo-woo!

Last week, I flipped through the channels on the television and came across one of the final (the final?) episodes of American Idol. I'm not really a fan (tried watching, but just couldn't get into it), but since Bridget enjoys music in general and there wasn't much else on, I left it on. Next thing you know, the crowd was cheering for um, what's-her-name and Bridget started yelling, "Woo-woo! Woo-woo!" in a high-pitched little voice, raising her hands, and clapping them above her head. Cheering has since become a regular occurrence in our house, and I often have to turn my head while I'm driving to see if Bridget's upset or just cheering about something. She enjoys cheering just for the sake of it. Love that little girl—she brings so much happiness into our lives!

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!