Just a Few Days Ago...

Norah has a pile of new words. Or rather, new pronunciations.  It happened nearly overnight. Mama is Mommy. Coo-coo is cookie. Dada is Daddy. Peace is pleass (still working on that one). I already miss coo-coo. She even has a couple new sentences: "I need help" and "Bye-bye, Caw-caw [bird]."

And right now she's wearing a 2T top. Ok, it's a little big, but not that oversized.

And she hands me her nuk when she wants a drink of her milk before bedtime instead of just spitting it out willy-nilly.

And we went up to size 4 diapers.

And she's really starting to play pretend, to use her imagination. She doesn't just slam her Weebles together anymore. They have little Weeble relationships. There's a baby, a mommy, and a daddy. There's one chicken or duck character who scolds the baby for driving the motorcycle. And they say "Whee!" when they go down their Weeble slide.

And now she wants to spit when she brushes her teeth because that's what Mommy and Daddy do. Of course, she just spits indiscriminately, which is kind of gross.

It's all happening at lightening speed. It's so exciting... and terribly depressing...

Unhappy campers

Well, we're still alive. And camping was actually a ton of fun. Up until the frickin' hurricane. (And, yeah, we live in Minnesota.)

First, Norah and I slept in, much to Ryan's chagrin. If it was up to Grizzly Adams, we would have been on the road at 6 am. But it did allow him to fuss over the perfection of his packing job in the Subaru while Norah and I cuddled on the couch for a while.

Then we hit the road. Ryan couldn't GPS the campground for some reason, so we stopped by a store and bought a good ol' fashioned map. I was the navigator. Mostly because Ryan loves to drive and I become navigator by default. Besides him cringing every time I folded the map against its original creases, he followed my instructions cheerfully and without question. Norah bopped to the iPod and played with Bear Bear.

Then we got lost. I am a sucky navigator. We pulled over and the map was taken away from me.

Eventually arriving at the campground, Ryan and John began setting up the tents and Sara and I brought things from the car and watched Norah and Samantha, who is just a month older than Norah. John and Sara also didn't have a perfect morning, so she and I kept our distance from the men for a while. The Vix fam showed up with their boys, Lincoln (4) and Will (2), and brought their VW hippy bus for camping. Seems Rob and Tamara also were slightly stressed and angry from getting lost, so that was awesome.

Once we were set up, everyone was in a much better mood. The ranger stopped by to say hello and to tell us about the weather warnings. I asked him what we would do in case of a tornado, and he mentioned that there were concrete bathrooms at the horse camp nearby. That sounded cool to us.

Then the moms hit the beach with the kids, and the dads went to town to buy batteries, which apparently was also code for hitting a local bar. Whatever. It was a blast. Norah charged into that lake with a vengeance. Her first lake experience, too! She is fearless. Unlike me, who can't swim and is terrified. Kristi and Amy joined us, too, and set up their tent.

It started to rain a little after lunch, which wasn't bad. The kids played in the tents and bounced on air mattresses while the rest of us gabbed in the screened areas of the tents. Another screen tent protected the food and stuff. Once it cleared up, the formidable heat was conquered, leaving us with a nice, cool breeze and an overcast sky.

After about the fifth text to my mom, telling her that the weather was great and we were fine (someone must have had the weather channel on at their house), the sky began to churn. Everything transformed into a green haze. The rain started coming down again, and the wind through the trees was so spooky, Amy and I looked at each other asking, "What the hell was that?" Then the sirens went off.

"Let's go," I said, scooping up Norah. The men folk sort of rolled their eyes, but everyone scurried, gathering a few things to take along-- purses, the weather radio (which had said some other area was getting spanked, not ours), and kids. John and Rob actually decided to stay, as they had just thrown some meat on the grill.

We caravanned to the horse camp down the way; Kristi, Amy, Tamara and her boys in Kristi's car, Ryan, Sara, me and the little girls in ours. The bathrooms were as small as mine at home. There was no way. We decided to drive to town.

Kristi's car turned to go back to the campsite, so we followed. Maybe we could convince Rob and John that they were idiots. As Kristi's car parked, everyone flew out of it, including two crying little boys. Each had gotten nervous and thrown up their entire dinners in Kristi's car. The stench hit me and I almost joined them. We abandoned Kristi's car for Amy's. Rob was trying to get the camper part down in the VW. John hopped in their Bronco and Sara and Samantha joined him. Ryan disappeared.

He was running down the path to the site. I yelled at him, but he was gone. The trees were bending. The rain was pouring. The sky was a milky green. Amy and Kristi took off. Norah was in her car seat playing with a couple flashcards Samantha had left. "Quack," she said at D is for Duck.

Then Ryan finally appeared again. He jumped in the car, soaking wet, and triumphantly held up Bear Bear. I think I fell in love with him all over at that moment.

We ended up driving through the worst storm I've ever driven through. You couldn't see a damn thing. The wind was crazy. It was terrifying. I prayed the whole time, which is uncharacteristic of me, but I did nonetheless. We ended up at a Super America when it was nearly over. There was a full, double rainbow painted across the sky.

Amy and Kristi had headed back to the horse camp, where a few other campers from other sites had joined them, including a couple dogs. Tamara and the boys ended up in Big Lake, where a tornado had been reported. (They're fine!) Rob stayed at the campsite, and it got pretty ugly-- he ended up taking shelter in the outhouse.

We got back to the site at 9:30 pm. Everything was soaked and covered in mud. We abandoned everything and decided to just come back in the morning. Norah slept through our entire adventure, except when I took her out of the car to see the rainbows.

Whew. Next year maybe we'll just stay home.

Camping trip tomorrow

Tomorrow we're going on our annual camping trip with a group of friends. BC, this usually just involved drinking, swimming, eating, and drinking some more. With children, it's a little different.

The first camping trip with Norah was fun at first. She was about 7 months old. She loved playing outside with her little friend, Samantha. They couldn't walk, and I believe Samantha was just starting to crawl, so it was easy enough to keep them contained. But then it got cold.

I was nervous enough being away from home with the baby, but I was terrified about her freezing to death out in nature while mommy sat by the campfire BSing with her pals. John and Sara had a camper, but no room for two pack'n'plays (not that we didn't try to wedge the other in). Eventually, when she wouldn't sleep at all, I bailed. Luckily we were only about 30 minutes from home. Ryan stayed, as it would have been a huge PITA to take down the tent in the dark.

Then came September. We got camper cabins with friends. They were awesome! Clean, pretty, surprisingly spacious, and even had screened in porches. Again-- fun at first. She loved being carried through the trails strapped in her pouch to Daddy. She liked stealing toys from her friend Little Ralphie. But she had a little sniffle...

That night I was literally up with her 15 times. 15. No one slept. She was wheezing and hacking so much, Ryan GPSed the nearest hospital, and if it weren't for the slightly more experienced parents camping with us, we would have ended up in some strange ER somewhere in northern Minnesota. When morning came, Norah seemed her regular, chipper self, but Ryan and I were the walking dead, and a little embarrassed at our huge overreaction the night before. Ugh.

Present day: we're going tomorrow morning. It's supposed to be hotter than Hell-- around 90 degrees. There also may be thunderstorms that night. And Norah has a little cold. Am I freaking out? Of course I am. That's how I roll. But we're getting back on the proverbial horse. We have stuff to keep the kids cool: ice packs, ice, spray bottles, a little inflatable pool, water, and even a tent ceiling fan. We have stuff to keep the kids entertained: toys, books, beach, wagon, tents, food, each other. But I don't have anything that will keep her asleep and A) not waking up the entire state forest in the middle of the flippin' night, B) keep her in good spirits for the next day by providing her with rest, and C) not give Mommy a bleeding ulcer.

Cross your fingers.

Happy Fourth!

Sorry it's been a while. New job. Ryan's new schedule. Excuses, excuses. Enough of that!

Since it's been a while, I'll do an update blog. What's new with Norah?

• She can go down the big slide at the park, much to my chagrin. 
• She can say "Yes," although she vastly prefers "No." 
• Other new words: pickle, buckle, blankie, suck (nice one, Heather), thanks, and sky.
• She really into dancing lately, and dances like the gal on Flashdance. She's a maniac! She is also bringing back Boyz II Men's "Motownphillly." Finally!
• She was brave enough to run through the sprinkler yesterday!
• She has a new Cookie Monster toothbrush, because apparently we felt she wasn't obsessed enough with brushing her teeth. Now we get full-blown tantrums after we cut her off after three baby toothpaste refills. 
• Speaking of, she can say her first sentence! "I nee MO!" Translation: "I need MORE!" 
• Daycare dropoffs have been tremendously better. One time, there were even no tears. It was awesome! And now instead of them saying "She needed a lot of hugs today" (translation: "She had a shitty day."), they say she had FUN! Woo hoo!
• The lead teacher in The Toddler Room just put her two weeks in! She is going to be a bill collector instead. That seems a hell of a lot more fitting to her personality. Peace out. 
• I discovered last night that perhaps the reason she doesn't go back to sleep after waking up in the middle of the night is her new air purifier. While it cleans the air and provides soothing white noise, blocking out the neighbor's great dane, the two red lights and glowing blue grill in front makes it look like the Devil is staring at her. I went into her room at 4 am and she just pointed and said "Eyes! Eyes!" Ok. That would keep me up, too. Let's turn that thing around.

That's all for now! Have a great holiday weekend.

Watch the Vegetarian Eat Crow

Now that I'm in my 30s, I am thoroughly aware that I am an idiot. My teens and 20s were typical; I thought I knew everything, or close to it. But now... not so much. Or maybe it's because I've got this baby, I am painfully aware that I'm an idiot. And I happen to be in my 30s. I don't know the two facts are all that related. Although my friend, Rob, has told me numerous times that women lose brain cells after having a child. Thanks, pal.

So, my point: I thought I was smart, turns out I'm dumb. Here are just a few examples.

(BC = Before Child)

BC: I thought whiny pregnant women were annoying and kind of wussy.
  
NOW: It may have been some kind of cosmic justice kicking me in the face, but I spent 40 weeks-- 280 days-- either vomiting or dry heaving. And not just in the morning, Mr. Whoever-came-up-with-that-dumbass-phrase. I couldn't sleep. I couldn't eat. If I didn't eat, however, I would dry heave. I actually lost weight. I had a million food aversions, including some of my veggie staples, like tofu and all that crap. I swelled up like a bouncy castle with an angry child trapped inside trying to punch its way out. My joints ached. I got lightheaded and dizzy. And I hated everyone and every thing. Now I want to buy pregnant people candy and flowers.

BC: Ryan and I vowed to never make poop part of any casual conversation. Note: Especially during mealtimes.

NOW: Sure, BC, we were a little uncomfortable with the way our once-normal friends nonchalantly talked about the excruciating details of their child's bowel movements. We literally told each other we'd never do this. But it all changed that very first day in the hospital. We bookmarked the chapter on "The Other End" in my Baby 411 book. We talked about color, consistency, effort, smell, size-- you name it. Every day. Not only during meals, where Ryan would take a big scoop of chili and I would talk about loose stools I had witnessed earlier in the day, but around other people without even thinking twice about it. Poop is majorly important. Apparently more important than good manners. (Or not...)

BC: Kids' music is ridiculous and unnecessary. And it sucks. Norah will listen to the Stones, Nirvana, and Sublime, and like it.

NOW: Well, I still sing "You Can't Always Get What You Want" in the shower, but it's the Yo Dazzler's version. And I bop around at work singing the theme song to Martha Speaks. And I think I heard Ryan singing "Party in My Tummy" the other day. A little embarrassing. Except for "C is for Cookie," which is classic.

BC: Kids swearing is funny.

NOW: Okay, I'd be lying if I said I didn't still think it was a little funny. But it's slightly concerning when it's your own kid who is trying to say "rock" but can't quite make the "r" sound, and instead replaces that sound with the ending sound in the same word. Long story short-- we met a colleague of mine and the first thing out of Norah's mouth was a very, very loud... well, figure it out. Stupid eye-catching landscaping that got her attention.

Those are just a few instances that demonstrate my arrogance and ignorance. More to come, as the list is virtually endless.


   

MINE!

Norah learned a new word. Well, a new concept, really. And that concept is ownership.

It started a day or two before Memorial Day. She was sort of juggling Bear Bear in her hands and babbling, and then clearly said, "Mine." It was very sweet-sounding. Just as if she wanted Bear Bear to know that he/she forever belonged to Norah. We awwed.

Then we had a BBQ Memorial Day and invited a pile of people. Rob and Tamara are our oldest friends; since high school. They have two boys, Lincoln (4) and Will (2). Then Sara and John and their daughter, Samantha, who is just a month older than Norah. Kristi came bearing ridiculously spicy chips. Then our folks and my sister came by, too, to join the chaos.

Once Norah saw the kids run to all the toys-- her toys-- she froze. You could almost see something boiling up inside of her as her head moved back and forth across the yard. One kid in her sandbox. One at the water activity table. One had a ball. Norah's brow was furrowed. Then it raised with a sort of helpless panic. Suddenly, a shriek erupted all the way from her belly out of her mouth: "MINE!" A couple people near her stopped and looked at her. "MIIINE!" she screamed. Tears began swelling in her eyes like tiny balloons and spilled down her cheeks.

After some cuddling, a nuk, and some parent-assisted playtime, she was fine. She still would snatch something out of another kid's hands if she saw fit, and Ryan and I would remind her of the virtues of sharing, but after the initial meltdown, she had a grand time with her little pals.

So what if she didn't know the kids playing with her stuff? I overheard a mom conversation about park etiquette. If you bring something to the park, it must be shared with all children. One mom was smack talking another because her child wasn't sharing his truck with her son. Another was talking about how she brings snacks for other kids. Strangers. Just random kids. So, your toys are public property, if you bring food, you have to bring for all, and if you don't abide by these rules, you are ostracized? Since when did the park become the Soviet Union?

It makes me think of another mom comment I had heard somewhere. Why should kids learn to share anyway? Parents are always telling their kids to share. It's perfectly acceptable for other kids to ransack your house and monopolize your toys. You can't bring a toy to the playground and not share it with perfect strangers, even. Sharing is a keystone learning experience for all children. But if I went to the park with my iPod, the hell I'm sharing it with the jerk sitting next to me. Adults totally don't share.

However, I do think sharing is important, to an extent. Sharing with friends is good. Yes, I'll share whatever a friend needs or wants: beer, car, money, music, books, whatever. I like it when my friends come over and play. And sharing is clearly a good idea when it comes to charity and volunteerism and such. I have too much stuff. I want to share it with people who maybe don't. So, there's a balance, I think, as with anything. Share stuff with your friends. Share stuff with those less fortunate than you.

But don't share your shit with the strangers at the park. Tough. Maybe they should have brought their own toy truck.

Good News

Well, it's been a good couple of days. I got a new job, which rocks. It's actually with a company I used to work for-- Atomic Learning. And in honor of the end of my college writing center career, I'd like to post my favorite top five typos, misnomers, and general oddness I've seen over the last school year.

5. "This gay is an expert on the subject." 

The author meant "guy." Now, I'm not a twelve-year-old boy who laughs at disgusting gay jokes, but when the author is terribly homophobic, it made me a little pleased to point that one out.

4. "The infant picked up the polar beer."

I hope it was at least after noon.

3. A paper on why stereotyping is bad used an example: Not all male hairstylists are gay. Later on she reported, "Gay men are good looking, stylish, and into fashion." Not to stereotype or anything.

2. "...attorneys who work pro boner."

No explanation needed.

And the greatest misnomer I have ever seen:

1. "There were mazel tov cocktails thrown at the front porch."

Nope. It wasn't Rosh Hashanah.

Ryan was also transferred to a different department where he used to work, which is awesome. He really liked his old boss and the work he was doing was a lot more stimulating than selling light bulbs to unreasonably indecisive consumers.

And Norah's latest success is a flood of new words: Baby, heart, star, please, hands, and banana (sort of.) She can also indicate when she wants to brush her teeth by moving her finger back and forth across her mouth and saying "Chshhh chshh chshh." Unfortunately, she always wants to brush her teeth. I know, get a real problem.

Anyway, here's to a great summer!