Friday, December 16, 2011

My Birthday Wish for You, Emmy Lou


Two years ago, I was sitting up in bed, counting contractions and waiting through the interminable hold recordings on the Women’s Health Division phone line.  I wasn’t really sure how quickly things were happening, so I just watched the minute hand on my watch and tried to remember the peaks and valleys chart from the childbirth class.  (I couldn’t remember if I was supposed to time from the start of a contraction to the start of the next contraction or merely the period in between.)

It amazes me that, two years ago, I was handed a small bundle that fit in the crook of my arm, and now, I have a toddler who can’t be contained, but who now freely gives hugs on request (when she feels like it).  I don’t have the words to do it justice.  I vividly remember the little face that peered up at me on that hospital bed.  I remember my fascination with the whole process.  I remember the bow that the nurse made on her little hat.  (She looked like Mamie from Gone with The Wind, done in miniature)

I remember Tom’s face.  I’d never seen him look like that before.  And that’s another thing I don’t have words for.  Thank God for cameras.

Maybe all parents feel this way, but I am in awe of my child.  She is just so smart.  She catches on to things so quickly.  I’ve always loved seeing children learn—that moment when something finally clicks and they just get it, (If I flip this switch, the light turns on.  Pink means all the things that look like that (flamingoes, and tutus, and PINK!)) but it’s so much more intense when it’s my child.  I derive a lot of joy from seeing her learn. 
But there’s also a lot of fear.  Fear that I’m doing it wrong.  Fear that something I neglect to do will limit her potential.  Fear that something I do will teach her to be angry like her mama.  She is so much like me.  And here’s the interesting thing—she’s like me now, not like me as a child.  She is independent and strong-willed.  I watch her at school, and she genuinely doesn’t care what the other kids are doing, she’s just doing her own thing, and if it overlaps, that’s fine, but if not, she’s going to continue doing her own thing.  I was the exact opposite as a child.  I was into everything, into everyone’s business, often to the point of being annoying. 

I watched the new Muppet Movie with Tom, and I walked out of the theatre wiping away tears.  We live in a very cynical world.  And though I often call it pragmatism or practicality, I’m a cynic.  I knew it when Conan made his goodbye speech to NBC, and I knew it when I walked out of that theatre.  And I’m terrified that Tom and I will accidentally infect our baby girl with that negativity.  We mock everything.  We always have.  Maybe it’s a defense mechanism.  And, honestly, our practicality is what is directly responsible for our level of success and comfortability in our lives.  We’re young, and we’re doing well.  We both have good jobs, and we’re both on a career path to have much better jobs in not much time.  And maybe we don’t love those jobs, but we certainly love the stability they provide.

But watching that movie, a movie about dreams and making them come true (on whatever scale possible)—a movie made by dreamers influenced in their childhoods by another dreamer who made the Muppets come alive—watching that movie made me question myself.  What doors did I close by taking the safe path to a steady job on a stable career path?

What doors do I risk closing for my little girl if I push her in the same direction? 

Tomorrow, my baby turns 2.  Tonight, at 12:04 am, I will most likely be in my bed, asleep, and there will be nothing to mark the anniversary of the most significant event in my life so far.

I know I said that I don’t have the words for this, and it’s true, as I’ve written this much and not yet hit upon my point.  I love her so much.  Out of that love comes a desire for everything to be the absolute best that I can get for her.  When she puts on her tutu and lifts her little leg behind her like the ballerinas she saw on the TV, I can see her on a stage, dazzling audiences.  When she rode the pony, I could see her taking care of a horse of her own.  She is a blank canvas, and I want her to write anything on that canvas that her heart might desire.  So, I wait, and I watch, waiting for something to become her passion, and trying to figure out how I can facilitate her dreams.

But no matter what her dreams are, the thing I want the most for her is happiness.  I want her to be happy.  I want her to have hope.  I want for her to never be angry at the world.  That may not be possible.  There are so many things to be angry about.  When I look at my baby, I see her joy.  The world is full of wonders for her right now.  And my birthday wish for her is that she never loses that. 

Tuesday, December 13, 2011

'Ship, Mommy!"

Last night, we had hamburgers for dinner.  Knowing Emmy's preference for ketchup, I made her little burger with cheese and ketchup.  Then I sat down to assemble my own burger. 

My daughter looks up and says, "Ship, Mommy?"

I look at her for a moment, then ask, "What do you want, honey?"

She points, and says, "Ship!"

This continues for about five minutes, as I pick up EVERY single thing on the table and say it's name.  "Do you want salt?" No.

"Do you want mommy's sandwich?"

No.

Do you want a pickle?  More drink?  A napkin?  I look at Tom, who shrugs.

Finally, at a complete loss for what "ship" could mean, I look at the last thing on the table, a giant bottle of ketchup. 

OH! I think to myself.  So I hold it up.  "Do you want ketchup, baby?"

Exuberant nodding.  "Ketship, mommy!"

So, when you come visit and I seem to be able to intuit what she wants despite her words seeming like complete nonsense, please know, it comes from exhaustive trial and error of picking things up and naming them until something sounds vaguely close.  We had this battle with necklaces, (I can't even remember her word for them, but it sounded like absolutely nothing and she kept pointing up, which made no sense, until I realized that Tom had looped a necklace over one of the cabinet knobs to get it out of her reach) oranges (ornge, mommy!), and many many other things. 

My favorite was "Myen-nyes."  Any guesses?  Myen-nyes is Daddy's favorite candy, Mike and Ikes, which he bought a bunch of tiny bags of for Halloween.  Of course, once we ran out of Mike and Ikes, she still pointed at the Halloween candy bowl, screeching for "Myennyes, mommy!"  So, one day, I gave her a tiny bag of m and m's instead, which was just fine.  So, apparently, myen-nyes means any candy.

I don't mean to make her sound like a spoiled rotten child who shrieks and gets what she wants.  She always asks very politely for what she wants, the first few times.  But when it takes me or Tom more than 3 guesses to get it, she gets frustrated.  And the screeching about the Myennyes was most likely because she knew good and well that there was still candy in the bowl (which Mommy was happily grabbing) so why would Mommy say there were no Mike and Ikes?  Once I figured out that "myennyes" was just "candy," peace was restored.  Except on the days when she asked for candy before dinner.

Monday, December 5, 2011

The Pony Ride (An Eventful Weekend)

It was a very busy weekend in the Watson household.  Emmy went to visit Santa, we put up our Christmas tree, Emmy threw several "I'm-two-now-and-I-want-you-to-know-it" tantrums, and poor Tom had to spend a big chunk of money on his car (Eleanor, his beloved Mustang).

The Santa trip went fairly well.  As soon as we can download the photo, we'll be sure to post a pic.  I had to go out Friday night to find a dress.  I went to Target first, because they usually have such cute toddler outfits, but this trip was a real bust.  Then I went to the mall, and checked all four children stores (Carters, Children's Place, Gymboree, and JC Penneys) and ended buying the dress I picked in the first store I went to (making the comparison shopping in all three other stores a waste of time-- hooray!).  We also got a pair of black patent leather shoes with a bow. 

The next morning, I got Emmy dressed and when I got the dress on her, she looked down at it and said, "Mommy, I princess!"  (Inward groan) So, she loved her "princess" dress.  I asked Tom if, instead of packing the dress up in her closet for a potential special occasion, we could just put it in her toy box for princess dress up time.  We almost never have any occasions to dress up, and it would be such a waste for her to never get to wear a dress she liked so much ever again.

Emmy did fairly well with Santa.  The wait was long and she got bored and fussy while we were stuck in line, but we utilized our Abby videos on YouTube (THANK GOD FOR IPHONES) and we got through it.  I was also fairly certain she was getting sick, but though she felt warm several times over the weekend (and was occasionally quite a bit fussier than usual), she never registered an actual fever.

When we finally got up to Santa, and she got put on his lap, she seemed a little wary, but we managed to get an acceptable photo.  When you see it, you'll notice that she is leaning decidedly away from Santa, but Santa is leaning right along with her, so it worked out for the photo.  If it wasn't such a pain, I might try again for a slightly better picture, but I don't really want to put any of us through that, so, c'est la vie.

On Sunday, Tom took his Mustang to get some brake trouble diagnosed, and because of the rather long wait, we decided that I should come pick him up and get a shopping trip done while we waited.  After shopping, on the way back to the car place, we passed an odd sight.  On the strip, just before the turn for the on-ramp, we noticed a small tent with a gaggle (flock? group?) of ponies, walking in a circle with saddles.  Tom said, "Do you think Emmy would like to ride a pony?"  As I swerved into the right lane to turn into the parking lot, I said, "No.  I think Emmy would LOVE to ride a pony!"

We were right, of course.  Emmy loved her pony ride. 


What Emmy did not love, however, was leaving after the pony ride ended.  After we loaded her in the car, while she screamed at us about her "horsie," she sobbed for roughly 20 minutes.  I dropped Tom off and took Emmy home, and she finally stopped crying as we pulled in the driveway.  That was a harrowing 20 minute ride.  I considered turning around and taking her back to the ponies.  I mean, it was a $5 pony ride.  Surely we could arrange to string a few more rides together since she loved it so much.  But I figured that having to leave the ponies was inevitable, and no matter how long she got to sit on her "horsie," she would cry when we left.  So, I stayed strong and took her home.

This morning, while getting dressed, Emmy asked me something about "horsie."  I asked if she rode a horsie this weekend, and she said, "okay."  Which is her way of saying, "Mom, I'd sure like to ride a horse again."

Thursday, December 1, 2011

Update on pink.

This morning, I got out a pink shirt and socks for Emmy and when she saw them, she said, "pink."  And I asked her if she liked pink.

Her response?

"I looooove pink!"

So, yeah.  My daughter loves my least favorite color.

Wednesday, November 30, 2011

Emmy's Accent

Emmy is learning so much at daycare.  She can recite numbers from 1 to 10 (and sometimes up to 14, which is how many steps we have to get downstairs).  She also knows at least a few colors.  And she can sing her own version of several songs.  She sings twinkle, twinkle, little star; Baa baa black sheep; the Sesame Street theme song; and now, the ABC song.  Her version of the alphabet goes like this: "A B C D F I K, LMNO(this is just mumbling, and not the actual letters) Q S T XY."

If you start singing too, she'll stop you by saying, "No no no," because you'll sing it differently than she does.

Last night, in the car on the way home, she was jabbering away, and the only word I recognized was "mingo" (her word for flamingo, which is, at the moment, her favorite animal).  So, wanting to reinforce her attempts at language, I asked her what color a flamingo is.

She paused for a moment, saying "Uhhh," while she thought about it, then she said, "Pank!"

Oh my.  Clearly Mom and Dad were not the ones who taught her that color.

She also calls her sippy cup a new word.  She calls it her "drank."  This morning, when I made her put her coat on, she had to put her cup down, and she whined at me, "My drank!"  (At least it wasn't Mah Drank.)

Anyway, I got a video of her singing the alphabet song last night.  I'll try to get around to posting it this weekend.

Friday, November 4, 2011

I thought I had Halloween in the Bag...

I'll admit to some procrastination when it came to choosing a costume for Emmy.

A lot of that was because it felt weird to be imposing my taste on my daughter, but, at the moment, she can't really tell me what she would like to dress up as.  Also, I'm fairly certain she wouldn't understand the concept even if she did have the words to tell me.

Tom and I are pretty sure that the Princess Leia outfit would still fit, but we thought that we would look like bad/lazy parents if the photos indicate that we repeated a costume.

So, I looked around online for some good costumes.  I don't really like the cheaply made ones you can find at places like Party City and the Halloween sections of Target and Walmart.  Especially since they are never as cheap as they look.  I found a cute Little Red Riding Hood costume on Etsy, but as I'd waited so long to start shopping, I was concerned it wouldn't get here in time, and plus, the seller never answered my questions.

I also found some cute ideas for homemade costumes.  One was for a Hermione (Harry Potter) costume, which seemed like it should be easy, since you just get a school uniform and add a tie in the appropriate colors.  Unfortunately, even if anyone made school uniforms for children in size 18-24 months, it would be prohibitively expensive to buy all the pieces.  (Gray uniform skirt, gray sweater, white button down, tie, knee socks, wand)

So, I gave up on all those ideas.  It was looking like Princess Leia was going to be it.  But then, Emmy's daycare introduced Emmy to pumpkins.  When I went to pick her up, there was a picture posted of Emmy in the "pumpkin patch" and she was given a tiny pumpkin to bring home.  Emmy hasn't stopped talking about her pumpkin.  A couple of days later, she dragged me out to the area of lawn where the pumpkin patch had been (all that was left was the straw they had laid down).  She dug around in the straw for a minute, and I reminded her that there weren't anymore pumpkins there.  "Where they go?" She asked me.

Every night, at home, she takes her pumpkin all over the house.  It's been in the bath with her.  It's been beside her when she watched Sesame Street, and it's been on the table while we ate dinner.  Every time she sees it, she says, "Pumpkin!" and runs over to pick it up.

And now, every time she sees a pumpkin anywhere, she points to it and tells me that it's a pumpkin.  We got a Halloween card from her great-grandma Kelshaw, which, yes, had a pumpkin on it.  She grabbed the card and held it up.  "Pumpkin!" she said.

And so, I suggested to Tom, that since she seems to like pumpkins so much, maybe a pumpkin would be a great idea for a Halloween costume.  I found one online, with the option to pay extra so it would arrive in time, and I bought it.

It got here on Wednesday, and I showed it to Emmy, asked her what it was, and she told me, "pumpkin."  So, I asked if she wanted to put it on.  I had her step into the legs, and then pulled it up and tried to velcro it closed in the back.  That's when the trouble began.  "NO, No No," she said.  She tugged on the front and cried.  "No pumpkin."  So, we took it off.

Later that night, after bath time, we tried again, with just her diaper (so it wasn't so tight).  "No pumpkin," she didn't like it, but she was at least willing to sit in it while Daddy read her bedtime story.  Then she tugged at it again until I took it off.

Thursday night, we tried again.  "No pumpkin."  Although, she does seem to like the hat.  Friday night, she wouldn't even sit in it.  She just fussed and tugged at the neck until we took it back off.

Saturday, we went to a petting farm near my parent's house, so we took Emmy to visit after we were done petting goats and picking out pumpkins.  While she napped, we went shopping.  We stopped in four different children's stores, looking for a new costume.  I knew that I shouldn't expect anything, with kids already trick or treating at the very mall where we were shopping.


However, we were able to find something cute.  Unisex, but cute.  We found a little khaki shirt that said "zookeeper" on the patch.  Since our intention was to go to the trick or treating event at the zoo, we thought this costume was especially fitting.  And since it was just a shirt (the pants were way too big), and it could fit over her regular clothes, we thought (foolish foolish new parents) that Emmy would tolerate this one better.


Sunday afternoon, we got her up from naptime and started getting dressed for the event.  I put on her pants and a fleece jacket, socks, and then Tom tried to put on her new zookeeper shirt.

She freaked out.  She started crying.  Legitimate tears.  We ended up in the rocking chair in her room, with her curled in my lap, getting tears and snot all over my shoulder.  So, we gave up.  I took her downstairs and turned on a Halloween movie starring Shrek.  She calmed down and just watched.  A few minutes later, Tom came down with the shirt and she passively let him put it on her, never taking her eyes off the TV.  We grabbed a sippy cup and got in the car.

And we had a nice time.  Emmy tugged at the shirt a few more times, but for the most part, she didn't seem to care.  She figured out the trick-or-treating after about ten minutes and then she was running up to the volunteers to grab the candy.  But she always said Thank you.  We were a little late, and it got dark pretty quickly, so we didn't stay very long, but I think Emmy had a good time.  She also got to see her favorite zoo animals, the 'mingoes (flamingoes), who were actually pretty active at dusk (more active than when we usually visit), but they may just have been excited about all the people.

All-in-all, it was an educational Halloween.  And I still don't know why she hated both of the costumes, especially since the reaction was the same for both of them.  Maybe she just hates cheap fabric.

Monday, October 24, 2011

Why Having a Daughter is so Great

I was having a bad day when I went to go pick up Emmy today.  Nothing specific, just down in the dumps.

While loading her into her car seat, she was talking about Daddy, and starting to fuss, so I asked her if she could count to five.  She did.  I told her how proud I was and that she was very smart.  Then I stepped back to shut her car door.

And she said, "I love you."  I almost missed it.

So, I leaned back in, and told her, "I love you, too," and gave her a kiss.

Now I need a tissue for a completely different reason.

Monday, October 17, 2011

Full Sentences. Just Not in Front of Mom and Dad

When I pick Emmy up, I always try to talk to her teacher, and sometimes one of the other teachers will stop me to tell me a story.  Last week, I got two.

One teacher told me that Emmy was playing in the gym, standing with her head leaned on her shoulder and having a conversation on a pretend phone.  Most of it was Emmy's standard toddler jabber (no real words) but then she stopped and said, "I said no!" into her pretend phone.  (I wonder where she got that...)

Then, on Thursday, Ms. Debbie, her usual teacher, told me an even better story.  Debbie is very used to Emmy's pretend talk/jabber, i.e. her imitation of what talking sounds like.  On Thursday, however, Debbie told the kids to start cleaning up, which is what they do when it's time to move on to a new activity.  Emmy walked over to her and asked, "Debbie, where we go now?" She spoke slowly and carefully, enunciating each word.  So, Debbie stopped and told her, "We're going outside."  And Emmy, who clearly loves outside time, turned to the little boys in her class and said, "Boys.  Now."

So, all weekend, Tom and I asked her questions and tried to make conversation with her, but all we got were one-word answers.  No sentences for us.

On the other hand, she will sing for us (or rather, in our presence).  She sings Twinkle twinkle, little star.  (Her version is a little truncated)  And there's this song that Destiny's Child sang on Sesame Street that has a line that repeats.  (I've got a new way to walk (walk, walk)).  So, if you sing the first part, "I've got a new way to walk," she'll say, "walk walk."  Oh my goodness, is that adorable.  I'll have to get a video of it, but Emmy has a tendency to go silent when she notices the camera pointed in her direction.

Monday, October 10, 2011

I love you!

Emmy said "I love you" this weekend!

Now, I'm pretty certain she doesn't know what it means, but she knows that when she says it, it makes Mama and Daddy really happy.  Mama might have jumped up and down when Emmy said it the first time.  Mama might also have yelled to Daddy in the other room, "She just said 'I love you!'"

Emmy has recently gotten really good at parroting what she hears.  So, after naptime on Sunday, I was changing her diaper, and I asked her, "Can you say, 'I love you?'"  And she repeated it.

So, while waiting for Tom to come (he's really good about coming when I yell that Emmy just did something because he doesn't want to miss her doing anything amazing-- which, yes, does imply that he is less quick to respond when I am yelling to him to come about something that is not related to Emmy.)  I asked her to say "I love you, Daddy," and she happily obliged.

And Tom just happened to walk in at that moment, so he got to hear it.

She said it a few more times throughout the day, but only when prompted-- but it's only a matter of time until she says it of her own accord.  And that will be another jump up and down day.

Wednesday, October 5, 2011

Emmy and Consequences

So, Tom and I have decided that we won't be taking Emmy to any restaurants again (unless there is a very VERY compelling reason to do so) until she better understands consequences.

Right now, we're at a stage where consequences don't mean much.  That's totally normal, and I'm aware of that.  But an almost-two-year-old without any understanding of consequences or "punishment" is really difficult to control in settings where you can't allow them to have free-rein.

At home, we're fine, because all the things that Emmy can't touch are out of her reach or put away.  But when we're out, there are totally different sets of rules and Emmy just doesn't understand that yet.

The other night (and this is not the first time its happened, but it serves to illustrate the point) we were out at a Mexican restaurant.  Emmy was in a booster seat (so no straps to keep her in the seat) and she was squirmy, screechy, and as always, messy.

She kept standing up to look into the booth behind us, and I kept making her sit back down in the seat.  Finally, I sat her down, and put my arm over her lap to hold her in the seat.  She pushed my arm away --and then-- she swiped her arm across the table, slinging salsa all over (including mama's shirt sleeve).

I snatched her up out of the seat, and walked to the front of the restaurant and then took her outside.  I sat her down and asked, "Do you want to go home?" (This is the chosen punishment for not behaving while we're out)


She looked at me, nodded, and said, "Okay."


And that was the moment when it hit home that she doesn't understand consequences.  It doesn't matter to her if we're out or at home.  She gets fed regardless.  And though I think she understands that mama is disappointed when she misbehaves, she doesn't really have much concept about what behavior is acceptable vs. unacceptable, especially when considered acceptable at home and not at a restaurant (or grocery store, etc.).


So, I took her back to the table and we got through dinner, and when we got home, we decided that, for now, we'll avoid restaurants like the plague.  Which, I imagine, won't upset too many restaurant staff who have to clean up the disaster under the table after we leave.

Plans for the Rest of the Year

Things are going pretty well for the Watson household.  I started a new job (same employer, new position) on August 1st and Tom started a new job (entirely new employer) in September.  We are (happily) adjusting to our promotions.  The downside of the changes are that Tom is working farther away from the house, and I've become salaried, so Emmy is spending a little more time at daycare, which leaves me with a lot of guilt.

I'm pretty sure at some point, one of the *very helpful* articles distributed by one of the daycares that I was, at some point in the process, investigating, said that children who spend more than (I can't remember the actual number, but I think it was ten) hours in a daycare setting have trouble with bonding, or behavior or something that was absolutely terrifying at the time.  So, we're right at the ten hour threshold, and I am experiencing a lot of guilt.

*(The asterisks indicate my sarcasm)

That being said, it's really nice to suddenly find ourselves with leftover money in the monthly budget, and by the way, I'm really proud of us, however much that sounds like personal horn tooting.

I also just completed a 5k in a personal best time (we don't need to talk about what that time actually was, just that it was my personal best).  Tom and I have signed up for a half marathon in November, and even though I'm not up to running it, I'm still proud that I am voluntarily planning to walk/jog/occasionally run 13.1 miles that day.  We also both recently did the Warrior Dash, a 5k with obstacles!, a mud pit! and fire!, and that went really well for both of us.  I don't mind saying that my time for that was 59 minutes, which sounds terrible for a 5k, but seems pretty good considering all the obstacles included in the 5k.

I have also decided to participate in NaNoWriMo again this year.  As a reminder, NaNo is a personal pledge to write a 50,000 word novel during the month of November.  I got to around 35,000 words last year before illness and Thanksgiving overcame my intentions.  If I achieve my goal and complete my novel, my reward to myself is a pair of boots at Land's End I've been eyeing.  (I don't know how to spell eyeing and the spell check says it is wrong.  Eye-ing? Eying?  Neither of those look right).

I will be offering to host Thanksgiving dinner again this year, so I have that menu to plan and prepare and after that, I have Emmy's second birthday party to plan.  Then there's Christmas, which isn't a big deal, right?

And that's my rough plan for the rest of the year.

Monday, September 19, 2011

Three Word Sentences - We've Got 'Em!


Emmy’s first three word sentence happened sometime before her last check-up, so we’ll estimate it at around July.  That one might have been mama hoping, so it wasn’t paid much heed.  (That first one was “Where Elmo go?” in response to me turning off the Sesame Street video.)

This past weekend, however, we got a new three-word-sentence and there was no chance of misinterpretation. “Where are you?” (Repeated endlessly when Grandma Susan went to the bathroom, until Grandma came back.)

She also has learned to call the cat.  “Ily, where are you?” (The cat’s name is Lily, but she has trouble with the two lls).  Imagine all of that in an adorable little sing-song.  “ILY, where ARE you?”

I am particularly impressed by her use of the pronoun: you, although I have no idea if it is developmentally appropriate (it takes a while for children to understand pronouns, which is why they always say things like Emmy goes to school or Emmy wants a cracker, instead of saying I go, or I want.) I am, however, almost too busy to post a blog, so I am definitely too busy to look up whether or not Emmy is ahead of schedule with appropriate use of you as pronoun...

She also officially said “Thank you,” this weekend.  Previously, it has been “’Kyou.”

And, she helped me roll out my pie crust, standing on a chair and helping mama push the rolling pin.  It was magic!  I am looking forward to lots more helping mama cook moments.

There's lots more to say, and I keep stopping myself from posting because I fear the posts aren't long enough or newsy enough, but I figure some news is better than no news. 

Hugs and kisses from the Watsons!

Monday, August 22, 2011

Emmy and the Dog


We had a scary moment this weekend.  It was one of those moments when I can totally understand stories about mothers picking up school buses to rescue their children.

This story isn’t nearly that dramatic, which I tell you, only so you won’t be disappointed when you read through to the end (if you’re still sticking with me) and find that I didn’t heave any vehicles, or perform any other amazing feats of strength.

The story begins with an invitation to brunch at a friend’s house.

I’ll be honest with you.  I didn’t want to go.  I don’t really enjoy parties, and I knew that the group of people who would be attending were, well… they’re at a different place in their lives.  They were gathering for brunch (past noon, so more like late lunch) and they all brought booze. 

Now, I have no problem with adults drinking adult beverages.  But, when a group of adults come together to eat and drink adult beverages, they do not have in mind spending their time with a toddler.  I knew that.  Tom knew that.  But the person throwing the brunch/late lunch is one of my best (read: only) friends, and I had already blown off one of her recent parties, so I was feeling guilty, and I thought that a party on Sunday afternoon would be pretty tame.  And it was.  We had a nice time, and some great food, which the hostess graciously made gluten-free for me.

But in among the nice time was a scary moment, which is what this post is about.

Emmy loves animals.  She has thoroughly enjoyed trips to the zoo and the aquarium (I still want to spell that with a “c” somewhere in there), but even more than that, she loves petting animals.  When we visit people with pets, she loves to make friends, especially with the dogs.

So, when we found out that our party hostess, A, had a new dog, we knew Emmy would love to meet him.  The dog, who had just arrived on Friday, was acclimating in the basement, so we went down to see him.  Tom and Emmy were hanging with the dog, and A and I had wandered back towards the stairs, chatting.  Suddenly, I heard a sharp bark and a baby squeal.  The dog had, up to that moment, been silent and quite docile, while I had petted his head and let him smell me and Emmy.

When I heard that bark, I dashed back to where Emmy was.  When I came through the doorway, I saw my little girl darting back, while the dog was trying to get to her and my husband was between them.  All I wanted was to snatch Emmy up, but I had a dog and Tom between me and her.  Tom wasn’t grabbing Emmy because he would have to turn his back on the dog to pick her up, and the dog could easily dart past him before he could scoop her up.

So, in that instant, less than a second, my brain realized that I couldn’t pick her up because I was too far away, and Tom couldn’t pick her up because he was keeping the dog from her.  And then CLICK, my brain realized that I could eliminate the thing keeping Tom from picking her up.  So I grabbed the dog around the neck (gently) and held him in place.  This allowed Tom to pick up our terrified child.

When we got back upstairs, Tom and I had a quick conversation.  I told him that all I had wanted was to scoop Emmy up, but I realized that the better action was to grab the dog, and then he could scoop Emmy up.  We did this in under 3 seconds, with nary a word of communication.  I was super proud of our parenting teamwork.  We high-fived.

I don’t know exactly what happened, because I didn’t see it, and Emmy doesn’t talk, but I think the dog just did something that startled her and when she started to back away, the dog saw it as an initiation of play-time, so he moved to follow.  Following her scared her even more, so she kept moving, which made the dog keep following, escalating Emmy’s fear.  When Tom moved to block the dog, the dog thought it was just part of the game.

I don’t believe Emmy was ever in any danger from the dog.  His tail was wagging the whole time, and it was just a misunderstanding between them.  But, here’s the part where I understand the bus-lifting.  When I grabbed the dog, I DIDN’T KNOW WHAT WAS HAPPENING.  I didn’t know if the dog was angry, or snarling, or about to bite.  I didn’t know anything but that the moving dog was the reason my baby couldn’t be picked up and comforted.  So I grabbed the dog.  If the dog had been angry, grabbing it might have made him more so.  Grabbing him around the neck might have resulted in me getting bitten.  But my brain didn’t register that danger, at least not enough to stop me.  And so, to a small degree, I understand trying to lift a bus despite the obvious reasons not to try it.  That’s your kid.  Reason doesn’t enter into the equation.

My only worry now is that Emmy will be afraid of dogs.  We tried to get her near A’s dog again before we left, and she was fine, as long as Tom was holding her, but when he tried to set her down so she could pet the dog, she started to cry.  Hopefully, she’ll forget about it before the next time we have an opportunity to play with a puppy.

Monday, July 18, 2011

Emmy's Vocabulary

I wanted to do a quick post with Emmy's current vocabulary.  I'll probably miss a few things, but that's what updates are for, I suppose.

Mama
Daddy
Elmo (Eh-mo)

She can also name most of the other Sesame Street characters too, but doesn't ask for them by name.
Ernie (I can't phonetically spell it, but she has trouble with the "r" sound)
Bert (It's hard to tell if she means bert or big bird, here)
Big Bird (she calls him "bird")
Oscar (o-kar)
Cookie
Zoe

And she says hi to Dorothy (Elmo's pet goldfish) at the beginning of Elmo's World. (Hi, Doorty) And this morning, I'm pretty sure she sang part of the Elmo's World theme song (the part where it says, "That's Elmo's World."-- she missed the "world" but got the rest).

She says "hello" when the phone rings, bringing her palm up to her ear
She says "night-night" at bed time.

She brings us her shoes and says "outside" when she wants to go outside.  She says "shoe."

When she wants to taste what we're eating she says, "Bite?"  (Which is neat, because I would always offer her a bit of my food and ask, "Do you want a bite?")

She likes to eat:
Crackers (cackers)
Cheese
and Bananas (nana)

After eating, when she wants out of her high chair, she says, "Want Down."

She knows our black cat is named Maddie, and if I call "Maddie," Emmy will echo me.

She's getting close to repeating "car-ride,"and she's almost got "blueberries."

She knows what these animals "say": (Emmy, what does a cow say? Emmy: "Moo")
Cow says "moo"
Horse says "nay"
Lamb says "bah"
Goat says "bah"
Kitty says "meow"
Doggy says "oof-oof"
Bird says "twee"

When she is impressed by something, she says, "Whoa."

When she slides, swings, or gets twirled, she says, "Whee!"

She knows these body parts (and can point to them) and can say the starred ones:
Eyes*
Ears
Nose*
Hair
Mouth
Tongue
Hands
Arms
Feet*
Belly

And she says "brush teeth" after her bath, so she can play with her Elmo tooth brush.

Also, it's not a word, but when you say, "I love you," she makes a kiss sound.

I think that's most of them.  I'm sure I'll remember more later.

Wednesday, June 29, 2011

The Nightmare that Was Elmo.

I watched Sesame Street as a child, probably longer than I would have preferred, since I spent my afternoons after school with a babysitter who cared for younger children too, so I remember a lot of Sesame Street.  I remember Elmo, though Zoe, Abby, Rosita, and Baby Bear came after my time watching was done.  That being said, before I had a child of my own, I had no idea why suddenly Elmo was the favorite.  I could probably write a whole treatise on Sesame Street, and the recent changes, some of which I like, and some of which I don't.

But none of that matters.  Because MY daughter loves Elmo.  In her limited vocabulary, (maybe 20-30 words at the moment), Elmo is spoken almost as often as Mama and Daddy.  When she gets up in the morning, the first thing she asks for is "Elmo?"  When she's eating, she wants to watch Elmo.  When she's playing, she wants to watch Elmo.  And though Elmo might seem like code for TV, as she will watch other shows, and tolerate other Sesame Street characters, she absolutely lights up when Elmo comes on screen.  She bounces and points and squeals when she sees Elmo.

So, when we found out that Sesame Street Live! was coming to Nashville, we decided to get tickets. 

I looked forward to it all week, and if Emmy could understand things like "future," or "looking forward to," I'm sure she would have too.  Alas, 18-month-old children have little sense of time, which is good, because they also have absolutely zero patience.

Tom, on the other hand, as he later admitted to me, was dreading the whole affair from the get-go.  He's the one who is constantly afraid of public temper tantrums, so the whole idea of Emmy sitting quietly in an arena full of children all watching dancing Sesame Street characters was enough to make him sweat. 

This all sounds rather ominous, doesn't it?  I don't mean it too.  For the first thirty minutes, Emmy did great.  She squirmed a bit before the show began, and after going for a quick walk with Daddy, she returned to squirm some more, so we resorted to YouTube Elmo to get through-- but FINALLY, the lights dimmed.

I pulled Emmy onto my lap, as Big Bird's voice filled the arena, and the Sesame Street theme started to play.  Emmy didn't really get it right away, but once Big Bird actually came out on stage, she realized what she was seeing. 

Thus commenced the squealing and bouncing on my lap. 

And then Elmo came out. 

Oh, boy.  At that moment, I was extremely glad that we had taken the risk and brought her to the show.  She was ecstatic.  She bounced, squealed, giggled, and climbed off my lap to dance along.  She was so excited, and it really seemed like she understood that these were her friends from the TV show, only they were really here, in person.

That lasted until the intermission at 30 minutes.  At that point, Emmy got bored.  We tried to bridge the gap with YouTube again, but she wasn't interested.  She wanted to walk, she wanted to explore, and she just couldn't understand that I couldn't let her out of my sight inside the packed dark arena.  She tried to push past me, to no avail, and got increasingly frustrated.

We should have left at that point, but I didn't want her to miss half of the show.  (I am also slightly peeved that the hour-long show had to take a break at the halfway point, which seemed to cause problems all over the arena).

We probably lasted another fifteen minutes after that.  We got up to leave, but as we neared the exit door, she started wailing, so I made Tom turn back.  We found a row of empty seats towards the back where I could stand with her on my hip, which helped some, but when she started to squirm again, arching her back (which puts me in danger of dropping her, which, of course, is her goal) I agreed to leave.  They were wrapping up the show anyway.

Tom was still sick (he had caught strep earlier in the week) and Emmy was still recovering from an ear infection, plus I'm fairly certain she's teething (a new molar erupted), so by that point, we were all exhausted.  We carried a wailing child back to the car (along with many other families similarly situated) and headed home.  Emmy was asleep inside of ten minutes.

So, it's not as if I regret taking her to the show.  I don't.  I think that if we have the opportunity to go next year, it will probably work out better, but Emmy loved it (at least half the time) and the rest of the day was worth it to watch her seeing real-live Elmo.  Maybe next year we can work it out so she gets a hug from Elmo.