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!