Last night I happened by the bath room just as Gaz's bath was ending. There she stood in her bear hooded bear towel as she informed me, quite earnestly, "Mommy, I have a tiny butt." We've been all about size lately, as yesterday was a height and weight recheck. I think her weight fluctuations (which are in direct contrast to her early weight increase) are just a normal adjustment after the hyperactive growth of her early days. I was a pretty skinny kid at her age, so I'm guessing that she will be too. And her height keeps on keeping on. She's over 38" now, so she's clearly still growing.
Yesterday before we went to the doctor's office I asked Gaz to pick out a toy to take with her to the doctor's office. She selected a tape measure she found in the library. So all the way to the doctor's office she was measuring who knows what. It was rather handy, giving me an easy way to explain what we were about to do. She was a champ too, even with the height measuring on that stupid board. She's almost too big for that now, so I hope next time they move us up to a bigger-kid exam room. She kept asking the nurse and me, "What you doing to me now?" Each time we completed a task. I think she was largely excited that she got to be naked for the weighing-in.
She was pretty good with the flu shot, too. Predictable amounts of screaming and crying (and predictable amounts of leg kicking, which I warned the nurse about but she really wasn't prepared to hold that leg still) which she quickly got over when she realized that she could get a bunch of stickers (Dora!) and go play in the waiting room again. Getting her out of the waiting room was tricky, but I can live with that. At least as long as she's still small enough that I can pick her up without hurting myself.
Today she's been writing "Mommy" when we do the free-form crayon scribbles that are all the rage this week. But she uses a very nonstandard approach to spelling. She's recited "ackefk" and "cthth" and a few others as she makes her little letter-sized scribbles. It's totally cute.
Today we're off to visit the Grandparents Mitchell (and other nearby relatives). Next week we'll be spending the holiday with the Grandparents Rizen. Lots of time in the car, so think good thoughts for road safety and Gaz behavior.
Friday, November 16, 2007
Monday, November 12, 2007
scrubba time?
Here's a little song Auntie Aiiee and I improvised on Saturday when Gaz was struggling against bath time:
Come on, come on--think about all those soap suds!
Come on, come on--you're gonna be squeaky!
Come on, come on--ain't no time to get squeamish!
Come on, come on--I swear by all my pores
When you're clean the world will be yours!
I admit that "squeaky" was a lame choice, but that was my fault. I was thinking of the actual lyrics. Points for them what knows the tune. :)
Come on, come on--think about all those soap suds!
Come on, come on--you're gonna be squeaky!
Come on, come on--ain't no time to get squeamish!
Come on, come on--I swear by all my pores
When you're clean the world will be yours!
I admit that "squeaky" was a lame choice, but that was my fault. I was thinking of the actual lyrics. Points for them what knows the tune. :)
Friday, November 9, 2007
Madness and Art
We have been having a less than fabulous time lately, what with tantrums and naps going AWOL (which makes bath time and toothbrushing a living hell) and assorted schedule upsets. But still, some good things are going on.
Art is the big one. Today Gaz made the adorable installation you see here, in addition to drawing her first ever smiley faces all over the whiteboard on her easel. We're also into the color wonder stuff, and usually have to make footprints every day. Her footprints. She always tries to color my feet for a footprint, but I dissuade her by pointing out that my foot is bigger than the paper and my footprint would cover up hers. I'm sure she'll find a way around those reasons soon enough.
She's still saying new random things that amuse us. Like when she makes an emphatic statement like "Everything ohkay. That's a fact!" And we haven't even shown her The Kids in the Hall yet. And . . . being sleep-deprived, I can think of no others now. But I assure you that I laugh every day. Which is good, because the bad days are very bad around here. Most of the time we don't go out for more than necessary trips to visit playgrounds on pretty days and run errands, because thirty minutes of carrying a violently thrashing, screaming child. That was last night. I'm not doing that again any time soon.
But even with the bad days, she can still make me laugh. Sometimes unintentionally, like the evening when she was hysterical over being bathed and it took both of us to get her in her diaper. While Mark was hoisting her back side by her feet (a hard thing for me to do with my tenosynovitis) she was trying to get her feet free and in the process was wiggling her bottom so much that not only could I not get the diaper on, Mark and I were both incapacitated with laughter.
So we won't be making many public appearances for while. Papa Charley assured me earlier today that this phase doesn't last forever, so maybe we won't be hermited for too long. But you never know. This kid is pretty strong-willed. We'll see who wins. ::crosses fingers::
Art is the big one. Today Gaz made the adorable installation you see here, in addition to drawing her first ever smiley faces all over the whiteboard on her easel. We're also into the color wonder stuff, and usually have to make footprints every day. Her footprints. She always tries to color my feet for a footprint, but I dissuade her by pointing out that my foot is bigger than the paper and my footprint would cover up hers. I'm sure she'll find a way around those reasons soon enough.
She's still saying new random things that amuse us. Like when she makes an emphatic statement like "Everything ohkay. That's a fact!" And we haven't even shown her The Kids in the Hall yet. And . . . being sleep-deprived, I can think of no others now. But I assure you that I laugh every day. Which is good, because the bad days are very bad around here. Most of the time we don't go out for more than necessary trips to visit playgrounds on pretty days and run errands, because thirty minutes of carrying a violently thrashing, screaming child. That was last night. I'm not doing that again any time soon.
But even with the bad days, she can still make me laugh. Sometimes unintentionally, like the evening when she was hysterical over being bathed and it took both of us to get her in her diaper. While Mark was hoisting her back side by her feet (a hard thing for me to do with my tenosynovitis) she was trying to get her feet free and in the process was wiggling her bottom so much that not only could I not get the diaper on, Mark and I were both incapacitated with laughter.
So we won't be making many public appearances for while. Papa Charley assured me earlier today that this phase doesn't last forever, so maybe we won't be hermited for too long. But you never know. This kid is pretty strong-willed. We'll see who wins. ::crosses fingers::
Friday, October 26, 2007
but wait, there's more
Gaz's lullaby goes something like this:
"Lullaby / Sleep sleep sleep / My little one"
And it melts my heart every time I hear it.
Sometimes we'll be driving, or looking out the window at home or walking down the street and Gaz will say, "Know what that needs?" and we'll say, "What does that need?" and Gaz will say, "Needs more GREEN!" Sometimes it's "Needs more green trees." I'm not sure if this is an environmental comment spawned by the urbanness of our locale or if she just likes green and vegetation.
Also on the subject of colors, pink is it these days. She usually says "pink my favorite color" all together like that. As if we would forget.
Gaz encountered mint the other day. I was flossing my teeth and gave her a small piece to try. She licked it and made yummy sounds, so I said "Do you like that? It's called mint." She replied with "I love mint! Mint my favorite flavor." So maybe we won't be doomed to fruity toothpaste forever.
Speaking of toothpaste, toothbrushing is sometimes okay, sometimes evil and takes forever. Depends on the day. But the one thing that usually goes well is getting her to rinse. How do we do that? When she spits out the water into the sink, she gets to spit it on her hands. We really talk that up like it's the most fun thing ever. Since toothbrushing happens just before bath time, I don't worry about her running around with spat-upon hands. When things are really tense, we employ a variant of the game wherein she gets to try to spit on my hands. The things I do to make brushing fun.
I think I got everything now.
"Lullaby / Sleep sleep sleep / My little one"
And it melts my heart every time I hear it.
Sometimes we'll be driving, or looking out the window at home or walking down the street and Gaz will say, "Know what that needs?" and we'll say, "What does that need?" and Gaz will say, "Needs more GREEN!" Sometimes it's "Needs more green trees." I'm not sure if this is an environmental comment spawned by the urbanness of our locale or if she just likes green and vegetation.
Also on the subject of colors, pink is it these days. She usually says "pink my favorite color" all together like that. As if we would forget.
Gaz encountered mint the other day. I was flossing my teeth and gave her a small piece to try. She licked it and made yummy sounds, so I said "Do you like that? It's called mint." She replied with "I love mint! Mint my favorite flavor." So maybe we won't be doomed to fruity toothpaste forever.
Speaking of toothpaste, toothbrushing is sometimes okay, sometimes evil and takes forever. Depends on the day. But the one thing that usually goes well is getting her to rinse. How do we do that? When she spits out the water into the sink, she gets to spit it on her hands. We really talk that up like it's the most fun thing ever. Since toothbrushing happens just before bath time, I don't worry about her running around with spat-upon hands. When things are really tense, we employ a variant of the game wherein she gets to try to spit on my hands. The things I do to make brushing fun.
I think I got everything now.
Thursday, October 25, 2007
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.
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.
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