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!

what a big girl

Every day lately, I look at Bridget and can't believe how much she's grown. And growing up. Bridget really is beyond baby stage, but sometimes I don't want to believe it.

Bridget's over 30 pounds and about 33 inches tall—at least, she was a month ago when she went in for her fifteen month appointment. I'm betting she's taller (and weighs more) now, because suddenly the 24 month/2T clothing I was getting away with are too short/tight and I'm forced to contemplate whether I can get away with what we've got for the rest of the summer (or go shopping for 3Ts, only to turn around and need to buy fall clothing). She's in size 6 diapers and when she protests while I'm changing her diaper ("No, no, no, no, no" accompanied by kicking and wiggling) I tell her that she'll need to learn to use the toilet soon (size 6 = largest size). All four of her molars popped through her gums last Saturday (July 3) and her size 5 shoes are getting snug (one pair no longer fits). And on top of all that, she's acting older every day.

Of course, her arsenal of words is growing by leaps and bounds. "Get down," "all done," and "all gone" are all uttered several times a day, and she asks to go in the car or go outside. (I'm sure there's more in there that makes sense, but it isn't easily understood—she doesn't enunciate clearly like cousin Lily does!) And she's started doing things like clasping both hands over her mouth and muttering or squealing in fake surprise or amazement (that is CUTE!). She carries on complete "conversations" now on the phone, having expanded from holding it up to her ear and saying, "Hello? Hi!" to "Hello? Hi! Uh huh" and giggling, then saying, "Bye-bye, dada" (it's always bye-bye dada, because I call Al, put it on speakerphone, and then tell her to say goodbye to daddy). She makes faces at Beth, changing her expression when Beth changes her own (often imitating her expression). And she's very studious in many of her actions: she will spend hours playing with water, but needs one or two cups to scoop up the water and then pour it out (or into); she will spend equal amounts of time gathering her blocks and putting them in various containers, only to take them out again, or playing with my wallet, sunglasses, phone, and keys and taking them off the table, into her lap, and putting them back again. She loves to put my sunglasses on (even more than her own) and definitely knows what she wants. She can feed herself with a spoon or fork (but it's a little harder to get food to stay on a spoon!). She's climbing a lot, and I'm convinced that I'll find her outside of her crib someday soon (she was studying how a little boy did it on one of her/our favorite shows, America's Funniest Home Videos, yesterday evening). She cheers when it's appropriate, throws her arms up in the air and yells "ta da!" and will probably be sorely disappointed when she grows up and realizes she won't have a cheering section for every small accomplishment she makes (her cheering section often includes strangers still, who indulge her and tell her/me how cute she is). She's at the fun, fun, fun stage, and I'm loving every minute of it.

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!

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!