probably way too much information

Gaz has her first Barbie. She's stripping her as I type, of course. I don't think we've got a clothed doll in the house. And already she's planning Barbie's first haircut ("Your hair is too long! It goes all the way to your butt!")

This is a good thing: An evil sorceress put a spell on Barbie so that she could only be released from her cardboard and plastic prison if a certain girl pooped in the potty. It only took months for this fairy tale to reach its conclusion.

But actually the doll was not the prime motivator. She kept asking for a diaper and we told her that she could have one if she sat on the toilet for ten minutes. I guess all it took was a little conveniently timed boredom.

I'm unbelievably excited at the prospect of not having to change diapers much longer. It's about damn time.

fresh outta clever titles

Today Gaz exploded out of the bedroom, where she'd been quietly wandering around with the door shut, and announced that she was just like a giant bunny. We haven't even seen Curse of the Were-rabbit lately, but she's got a pretty long memory these days. (Last night, she said she wanted to show the binoculars that Grandma Judy gave her to the boys downstairs, and I'd even forgotten where the binoculars came from.) Anyway, she leaps out of the bedroom and there's that familiar aroma about her. And she says, "I even have a little tail like a bunny!" and turns around to show me the lump in her diaper.

Yes, I know, no one likes a post about poop. But I have to share these stories with someone--I can't embarrass her in front of her future prom dates by myself.

Gaz has also been taking care of Sweetie's brother (that would be the larger baby doll that she got from Grandma Judy and Grandpa Will for Christmas) because he's been crying off and on all day. She comes to me, cradling SB in her arms, saying, "He's crying. I'm taking care of him." She also calls him her brother, and just now, her daughter. But then again, the floor fan is also her sister and best friend.

She's been quietly walking around with the doll, sometimes making him talk with me in a deep voice. But then it was him for him to go to sleep, so she took him into the bedroom, buried him under blankets, and closed the door, so he could fall asleep in the quiet. Very sweet. Then he woke up and had a tummy ache, so he had some tummy medicine and now they're resting on the recliner (she's once again buried his head under her discarded pajamas).

Just another normal-strange day.

And a belated and poorly executed thank you to everyone who sent me their condolences, whether electronically or otherwise. I am sorry I'm thanking youse here, but you know how I am about mailing things. (Those Christmas cards from 06 are still here somewhere. . .)

Overheard

Gaz to her new cow toy: "Cow, I have something to tell you. Godzilla knock over buildings."

all the things I've been meaning to blog this month

Before I go finish Gaz's Halloween costume, here's the update.

Gaz has a bunch of new stuff from Ikea: a table and chairs set, an easel, a little pink stool, a soft soccer ball, a little loopy-wirey wooden bead thing, and a step thing. The step thing is full of play food, which she gives to me several times a day with a flourish while yelling "Surprise! Happy birthday!"* The soccer ball is very important for soccer "teamer" practice. The bead thing she just loves. On Tuesday we had a lovely little breakfast of homemade banana bread and coffee while sitting at the little table.

Gaz has been talking a lot lately about Mothra and Godzilla and Batra. Mostly, she's talking about how she'd like to hug them, but Batra is under the water, and Godzilla and Mothra are both really big. So she'll have to hug them when she gets bigger. And, most importantly, she'll need a ladder. She's really insistent about the ladder. She also told me the other day that she wants to go to the hospital to meet the dragons and dinosaurs. "They're at the hospital?" I ask. She is very sure.

One morning Gaz gets out of bed while I'm still groggy. She goes to the small desk fan we've got on a nearby shelf and starts typing away, saying, "I working on my website!" I have no idea where she has heard this phrase before, but it's really cute. She does this most mornings now, and she's branched out to working on a number of other "computers" (window sills, tables, trash cans, TV trays, etc.).

Gaz loves telling stories. If asked to tell one off the top of her head, she will start by repeating "one time. . . one time . . ." until she thinks of something to talk about, usually something within sight like fire or Proton or Ookla. Then after she comes up with a noun, she shouts "the end!" and takes a bow while shouting "Thank you! Thank you!" She is 100% honey-glazed ham. I know this will get much more annoying when she gets older. Right now it's still adorable.

Tonight she read us the first few pages of The Pokey Little Puppy. And by "read" I mean recited what she has memorized of those pages. Which turns out to be almost all of them, right up to the first time the four puppies run down the hill roly-poly, pell-mell, tumble-bumble. Mark and I were both quite impressed.

Gaz is also a walking Taco Bell commercial. When pressed for time one day, Mark ended up bringing Taco Bell home for dinner. While we quietly ate our food, Gaz suddenly said "I love Taco Bell." We laughed and agreed that Taco Bell ain't bad. Then she said it again, this time with more gusto. We laughed harder. So she did it again, this time gesturing expansively. We ended up cackling like lunatics while Gaz shouted "I love Taco Bell! I love Taco Bell!" over and over. I had almost forgotten about this (I know, I should have blogged sooner), but then tonight Gaz pulled out a little metal bell from the cat toy drawer. It's one of those little bells that people give out as wedding favors. So she's got this little bell and she's running around shaking it. It's not long before she's saying, you guessed it, "Taco Bell! Taco Bell! Taco Bell!" We need a commercial deal.

Gaz is completely obsessed now with the cat carrier, of all things. It's in the living room right now, were she packs it full of toys every day. Sometimes there are few enough toys in there that the cat managed to get in. He's a strange animal that likes to nest, and the carrier is one of his favorite places to lurk when he's allowed to do so. Today I noticed Gaz and Proton playing this really fun game where Proton pushes against the carrier door with his face, and Gaz pushes the door shut, but doesn't latch it (she hasn't figured that out yet, and I don't plan on showing her). Then Proton pushes against the door again, and Gaz shuts the door. Lather, rinse, repeat. I tried to get a picture, but the little ham saw me with the camera and loosened her hold on the door enough that Proton managed escaped. It was fun while it lasted.

Every now and again, she randomly tells me, "I can't play with you now Mommy. I too busy." I don't think I've ever said anything quite like that. I tell her that she needs to wait a minute while I'm cooking or otherwise indisposed, but I try not to say things that sound, well, mean, for lack of a better word. It's still cute (I know, what does she do that isn't cute these days?**), and when she says it to me I just say "Okay. I'll play over here. You come play with me when you can." It seemed like the best way to react.

* She has been doing this consistently since September when there were lots of birthdays between cousin Brynn, me, Mark, Grandpa Will, Auntie Maude, etc. We will see how long this is still fun. I would find it more amusing if she didn't shout every time she said it, or if she'd maybe just say it once at a time. Guess I should focus on the good--she could be shouting many worse things.

** The answer to this completely not rhetorical question is: tantrums. Tantrums the likes of which I had not imagined. Throwing toys and furniture (child-sized furniture, but furniture nonetheless), smashing her face into the floor repeatedly (even though she has to know by now that this hurts), shrieking the most insanity-inducing shrieks. Sometimes for as long as an hour. Sometimes she takes a nap mid-tantrum and wakes up refreshed, ready to keep freaking out some more. And this was just this past Monday.

Seven Hundred Thirty-one Days

Right this minute Gaz is sitting in her new Radio Flyer wagon eating blueberries with her doll, Sweetie. I tried to get her a used wagon on craigslist, but the lady I connected with never did tell me where she lived or where to meet her. Then when Gaz got a healthy amount of birthday money, we just decided to go for one with seatbelts (considering how daring Gaz is, we probably should have planned on doing this from the beginning).

As I already noted, Gaz has been talking constantly. Every day now, we have an explosion of various magnitudes of new words and word combinations. There are so many new words, that I can't tell anymore if a word is in fact new or I was too overwhelmed with other words the last time she said a thing.

"My turn!" has replaced "Self!" as the new way for her to express her desire to do a thing by herself. She demands that it is her turn to do it herself for everything from cutting up a cucumber for a snack (which I don't allow, in case you were worried) to driving the car (also not allowed, in addition to being not possible) to brushing her teeth and combing her hair. Today she got dressed all by herself. Okay, she had a tiny bit of help from me: I straightened her shirt out so she could get her arms in the correct sleeves, and I helped her get her waistband over the bulky backside of diaper.

Now Gaz has moved on to playing in the wagon box. She's in there with a flashlight yelling "keep me!" Not sure exactly what that's about, but it's cute.

She's still singing and dancing all the time. She's still got her old favorites ("Animals! Animals animals ANIMALS!" and "Unicorns" and "Dinosaurs", which are all the same tune with different words) and some new ones too. The best one hasn't been repeated in a while, but I'm sure she'll sing it again soon. I've never gone on about infant excrement here and I don't plan on going on about the toddler variety, but we're going to get close to that subject. I promise it's funny, though.

The other day I was here at the laptop and Gaz was playing under the dining room table with some balloons. There is a fan on the other side of the table, so when an ill wind blew my way I knew who the culprit was. "Do you have a poopy* diaper?" I asked. "No, Mommy," was the initial response, but even before I could get down on hands and knees to coax her out I started hearing the new song: "Pooooooopy daaaaaaaahhhhhhhhper! Pooooooopy daaaaaaaaaaaahhhhhhhhper!" I laughed myself stupid. The adorable babyish pronunciation makes it. And now let me share with you another song of hers:

Twinkle, twinkle, twinkle, H
Twinkle, twinkle, what you are
H I J K L M N O P
Q R S
T U V
W X Y and Z!

She's also obsessed with They Might Be Giants's album "Here Come The ABCs." She knows the names to most of the songs and has her favorites that she like to sing along with. "Go for G" is quite popular these days.

Now Gaz has filled her wagon with pillows and insists that she is sleeping. I have to go explain again that I can't join her in the wagon. I think this is just about all the new stuff. Except that she's got three of her two-year molars out and about. Still waiting on the lower right to make its entrance. Wooo!

Oh, and if you are localish and haven't received the e-mail about our local birthday party plans, drop us a line!


* I don't like using cutesy names for bodily functions, but I do make use of and advocate "poopy" as an adjective.

Recent Highlights

• Today Gaz asked to use chopsticks as we were eating our Thai noodle soup. Her skill level, of course, is nonexistent, but she tried and didn't get upset. In the end she let me feed her with my chopsticks.
• She's stacking everything in sight! Last night she protested sitting in the sitting part of the cart so we let her sit in the basket part where she happily stacked groceries.
• This morning she named her monkey (which has thus far been known as "Bed Monkey") Max, after a character on Dragon Tales.
• She also tries to recite rhymes from Dragon Tales, and she really loves Ord.
• Gaz has rediscovered Proton's tail, much to his chagrin. She likes to hold onto it, sometimes tries to lead him around by it, pretends like she has one of her own (which usually involves much bottom-shaking on her part), goes looking for it when she sees the telltale lump of cat under the blankets when he goes for his daily snooze on the bed, etc.
• Nap times are in flux yet again. This growing thing is taxing, trying to keep up with how much food and sleep she needs at any given time.
• Still playing "peeky boo" every chance she can get.
• "Pretty" comes out "pootee" these days. Insert joke here.
• The number of things that are coming to bed with us these days is growing: now besides Max, we are routinely joined by a bear ("Blood Bear," the bear she bled all over when she busted her face open in December), her baby doll (still nameless, as Gaz has rejected my suggestion of "Shirley"), and a hand towel. She's really nuts about the hand towel. You should see her try to make it out of bed in the mornings with this collection.
  

Mixed Bag

Well, she's got another rash, but no other frustrating symptoms to go along with it, so we're waiting it out. It looks much less angry now than it did Monday at bathtime. We're pretty sure this is a new rash, as Nana and Papa didn't notice any rashiness during their visit. Best guess? Another vaccine reaction. Lather, rinse, repeat.

Today Gaz figured out how to unlock one of the doors on her animal hospital toy (which we specifically sought out to transfer her key fixation away from my keys), but there was also plenty of her trying to beat the doors into submission too. Since it only came with three animals to fill the six kennels, today I added two little monkeys in pajamas and a mummy. Gaz seemed amused.

We're kinda ready for Christmas. I've got to pack tomorrow because I opted to clean the kitchen this evening. It's easier to get the packing done with Gaz awake than it is to do a whole lotta dishes with her either tearing up the kitchen or complaining from the dining room that she can't see me. I've been wiped out all week (still recovering from Gaz being sick?) so I hope that a few good nights of rest and a peaceful visit to the wilds of central Indiana will fix me up.

Merry Christmas and a Happy Life Day to y'all!

Keys

Gaz loves keys. Specifically, she loves my keys. She has long known that keys open doors, but previously she would bang the keys on whatever part of door was handy.

Now we have two new tricks. First, she has figured out where keys need to go in order to open doors. She hasn't figured out that they need to go in point first or that doors need particular keys, but she's well on her way to figuring out how to escape.

The other thing she's figured out is how to put my keys in the diaper champ. Fortunately I heard them go down the one time she's run off with my keys long enough to do this, and they were quickly rescued. Now all who set their keys out around here must beware of this potential key fate.

sleeping better, cat worse, jumping fun (for a while)

Nap time
Originally uploaded by georgiegrrrrl.

We're all sleeping better these days. Frequent or long-duration naps during the day have been the magic bullet for Miss Gaz, so the night-screaming-that-cannot-be-countered is at a minimum. Now that the settling is feeling more settled, we're all a lot less stressed. Which leaves only the usual stresses of work, trying to keep the dishes/laundry/etc. from taking over, and trying to keep the cat from breaking/ruining everything in sight.

As far as Gaz is concerned, he's a wonderful cat. He lets her grab big fistfulls of his face or back or tail or belly, sometimes even an ear, and only complains a little when she pulls with all her baby might (which is not an insignificant level of might, I must say). No, he's only a bad cat with the adults. Like today, when I finally get Gaz down for what I hoped would be a longer than average nap (average nap this weekend: 15 minutes) and he just can't stop screaming at the bedroom door or the hall door, which is right next to the bedroom door. I spray the alleged pet deterrant on both doors, and he looks at me, screams, and goes right back to screaming at the doors. So I confine him to the back bedroom and what does he do? He uses the playpen for a litter box, and Gaz's toys and a blanket as litter to cover his business. Then no sooner had Mark cleaned up that mess, Gaz had a little explosion in her pants. The poop bucket is full tonight.

So the cat is driving the adults insane. He still gets attention, just like we've been trying to do since Gaz was born. He was just fine for the longest time, but the older she gets, the worse he acts out. I don't know what we're going to do about that. Is there cat prozac?

But enough whining about the cat.

Right now Gaz is wearing some jammies that Grandma Cel brought up last weekend. Just a week ago she was routinely crawling out of the legs because while the top half of her is definitely 18 mo. size, her legs tend to be a bit shorter and her feet are definitely on the stumpy side so far. I'm sure that'll change once she starts walking and her little hams will become perfectly serviceable strolling apendages. But for now, ham feet. Ham feet that don't fill out jammy feet all that well. She's filling out the jammies so well, I can't believe it's only been one week of growing. Right now she's bouncing in her doorway jumper, but we've almost exhausted the fun of that. She's jumping wildly, which is soon to turn to jumpin maniacally, which then becomes jumping and crying hysterically. It's interesting to watch the progression. And she's still got a cat toy in her hand, so if anyone was wondering how long cat toys are fun for, the answer is "at least a month."

So we're okay, but now I definitely have to move her to another entertainment device.

Sorry this is so fractured and random. It's hard to be coherent while keeping an eye on her. More later, perhaps when sleep happens.