Mixing It Up With The Bean - 8 Month Update

Dear Millie Bean,
It's been another banner month for you.  One that included a little pnemonia and a lot of army-man crawling.  As well as blowing Mommy's mind when you stood up next to the chair.  How is it that you're only 8 months old?  You act like you're almost 1 year!!

Yep.  You came down with pneumonia at the beginning of the month.  Right about the time your sissy came down with the croup.  So life was super fun around our house for a few days. The worst part about it?  The antibiotics made you hyper.  As in... crawling the walls at 11 p.m., hyper.  As in lifting sisters toy train above your head, hyper.  As in... Mommy and Daddy need you to go back to sleep and OMG, 8 MORE DAYS OF THIS???  Yea. So... Augmentin is so not your boyfriend right now.  

You started babbling a lot more this month.  And you are still absolutely enamored with your older sister.  You don't want to play with baby toys.  You want to play with big girl toys... like the play utensils that you will stick in your eye as soon as Mommy turns her back.  Basically, you want to be wherever your sissy is.  And you follow her with your eyes the way a tiny slobbery hawk tracks a big, loud field mouse.

You've become just a little bit more of a snuggler this months, Millie.  In the morning when you wake up, either I or your Daddy get to pick you up out of the crib and snuggle with you in the living room for a few minutes before you determine that enough is enough and we'd better feed you RIGHT. NOW.  You've taken to solids pretty well.  I thought you were going to be a picky eater, but once you got used to the consistency of the food, you were all over it.  And it... was all over you.

On a related note, you've had serious issues with constipation this month.  So much so that we're giving you an ounce or so of prune juice in your formula twice a day.  Because, holy cow, baby girl!  Hell hath no fury like that of a constipated baby.   We were giving you about 4 oz at a time just to get things moving... and oh. my.... did things start moving.  Started moving right up your back to your neck.  So... now we're only on the 1 oz twice a day.  Sorry, baby girl.  Even though we had practice before you came to live with us, we're still, by all accounts, COMPLETE. ROOKIES.

You've hit a new cycle of sleep in the last month.  For some reason, you're not sleeping well at day care.  AT ALL.  As in... sometimes when I pick you up from day care, you've only slept 20-45 minutes.  Total.  ALL. DAY. LONG.  So by the time we get you home, we're in a race to get you fed and in bed.  And that often happens before 6 p.m.  And then you sleep until 7 or 7:30 am. Mommy threw a big parade the first night you did that.  There's still confetti on the ceiling.

On the weekends, you sleep really well during your naps.  You're still taking two which can last anywhere from 1 to 3 hours.  And sometimes... when the stars align... you and your sissy take your naps together.  Which means that Mommy and Daddy get a chance to breathe.  We would be smart to actually breathe during these moments, but there's always something we need to do.  The unwritten rule of parenthood... THERE ARE NO BREAKS.

You have become so social.  And you want to be in on all of the action.  You do not like it if Hazel and I leave you in the living room playing while I get ready for the day during the week.  Oh. No.  That just doesn't fly.  And you immediately start army-manning it down the hallway to see where we are... hollering the whole way. You're working on the actual crawl, but always default to army-man because that can get you there a lot faster and you're all about speed these days. You're also big into standing these last couple of weeks.  You like to crawl over to the chair and then freak Mommy out when she looks over and you've pulled yourself up and are looking mighty proud of yourself.  And it's great because the last time you surprised Mommy was when she looked over and you were chewing on a wet diaper that she had left on the floor.  You keep me on my toes, baby girl. And you're not even walking yet!!!


There are also times that you simply want to be held.  It's usually at the end of the day when you're tired or worn out, and even if I'm sitting behind you and set you down on the floor, you immediately turn to me and climb up.  Oh yes... you're a big fan of climbing on Mommy these days.  Between you and Hazel, it's amazing I'm able to do a single thing in the morning because sometimes I think the two of you consider me your Everest... and you're both trying to plant a flag on my forehead to note that YOU WERE HERE FIRST.

Daddy and I were talking about this the other day.  Whenever I walk in the room, your face just brightens up.  You absolutely know who Mommy is and... yea, you're a bit of a Mama's Girl.  Which is so completely awesome because, well... NOW I HAVE ONE.  Hazel's always kind of been a Daddy's girl.  Even when she was just little, she seemed to prefer sleeping on Daddy or playing with Daddy.  But you... you're a big Mama fan.  Which does my heart good.

But, if you're gonna be a Mama's Girl, you're gonna have to be representing Mama a little better.  Meaning... no more scaredy cat, mkay?  That's right... while you loving being in the mix and seeing new things... you still haven't gotten the courage that came so easily with Hazel.  You're not afraid of people... which is good.  But, well... the other day at a football game, your Grandma and I were waiting to ride the elevator to the 4th floor.  And we were commenting on what a happy baby you were.
And then we got in the elevator.... where you proceeded to lose your EVER. LOVING. MIND.  You were NOT okay with the elevator.  And this made the 4-story ride the longest ride in the history of elevator rides.  Once we stepped out, you were immediately fine.  The elevator is so not your boyfriend right now. 

Later, at the game... you were NOT down with Hazel's balloon.  Freaked. You. Out.  As did the sound of the crowd cheering.  Football games are so not your boyfriend right now.

But for the most part, with the occasional scaredy-cat moments, you are super happy.  You love sissy, Daddy and your grandparents.  You don't get to see much of Aunt KC or our other friends because... well, you're in bed by 6!  In fact, you don't get bathed as much as you should because... YOU'RE IN BED BY 6!!  It's a feat of logistics to get you home from school and fed before it's bedtime.  And we know better than to push bedtime back.  Heads. Will. Roll.

Last weekend, we took you and Hazel to the Nature Center for a Halloween celebration.  Your costume for Halloween is so cute... it's a cupcake.  Which fits you perfectly because right now, you're kinda shaped like one.  But we weren't sure if it would fit in the car seat, so instead, your Daddy insisted that you wear the ASU Sparky outfit that Granny and Pops had given you when they were visiting.  It made sense for the car seat, and it made sense because it would be much warmer than the cupcake outfit (so Daddy claimed).  So, I tried to overlook the fact that my baby girl kinda looked like a baby boy. So, I made Daddy throw on a pink hat so we could reclaim your gender.  Let me be clear, I don't need to dress you in pink every day. And I certainly don't care if you play with bugs (not spiders)(see previous letter to your sister) and trucks/tractors.  I don't care if you play in the mud and the dirt.  I don't care if you prefer frogs over princesses, or vice versa.  But... BUT, I think it's okay for me to put a little feminine touch on you from time-to-time.  So I don't have to keep correcting people when they say:  "Oh... he's so cute."  It's not me that is assigning gender traits.  IT'S SOCIETY.

But, I digress.  What didn't make sense was a part of the costume that both Mommy and Daddy overlooked prior to putting it on you. And then at that point, there was nothing we could do.

But, as with most things with you, it bothered Mommy more than it bothered you.  You?  You were just excited to be out and about. And bonus, the excitement of being out and about kept you up past your bedtime and you weren't even phased!!  You LOVED it. 

The next day, we went to a pumpkin farm to pick out pumpkins for Halloween.  When we got there, you promptly pooped your pants.  Luckily, Mommy had a sense that was going to happen and brought a clean onesie for you.  And since it was like 70 degrees in the middle of October, you didn't seem to mind going without pants. 

You are such a sweetheart, Millie.  And we are so happy and blessed to have you in our family.  I can't wait to see what the future holds for you.  For now, we know that it involves a cupcake costume.  But, eventually?  Well, you may just decide to climb Everest.

Just because you want to get in the mix.

Love,
Mama

Almost 2. How Did That Happen?

Dear Hazel,
This weekend, you turned 23 months old.  And celebrated the huge accomplishment by coming down with croup.  That was fun.  Almost as fun as molars.

I felt so bad for you, baby girl.  Just listening to you struggling to breathe was awful.  But a couple of shots of steroids later and you returned to a somewhat happy Bird.  You still spiked a temp every now and then... and let's be honest here, kicked Mommy and Daddy's butts in the process... but overall, you were still our sweet little girl that just wanted to be happy and were willing to fight for it.

The last couple of months have been amazing for you.  You've had your fair share of teething pains and you're also starting to skip naps or severely limiting your nap to just 1 hour.  Gone are the beautiful days of 3 hour naps, I'm afraid.  I miss those days already.  Because with taking just the 1 hour nap?  Someone throws A LOT more tantrums, these days.

You've also started to play more independently, which is so much fun to watch.  You especially love playing in your playhouse in the backyard.  I've got to get you some more props because I think you're losing the novelty of bringing me the fake corn or bread when I ask for it.  And, Grandma and Grandpa have some explaining to do because after they babysat you and your sissy for a weekend while Daddy and I had some much needed adult time, I came home to discover that when you played in the house and handed me a cup, instead of saying "wa-wa", you were instead saying "pop".  I guess we can be grateful that you're not saying Dr. Pepper. Yet.

Speaking of your playhouse, I've had your Daddy spray it repeatedly for spiders.  Because - and you'll soon learn this - Mommy will put up with a lot of things.  You can hand Mommy a booger and she'll thank you for it, before wiping it on the grass.  You can hand Mommy dog poop and she'll thank you for it and then remind you that rocks are not soft.  You can hand her "poot" (poop) from when you stick your hands down your diaper, and she'll hold the vomit in and wash your hands before reminding you that "poot" stays in the diaper.  But what you should never - MUST NEVER - do, is hand Mommy a spider. While calling it a bug.
Listen, sweetie... there are bugs... and there are SPIDERS. And spiders?  Not. Bugs.  An aphid?  Yes... an aphid is a bug.  And Mommy doesn't mind you playing with an aphid... or a roly-poly bug or a dragonfly or a grasshopper.  Those are cool things and Mommy's totally down with watching you interact with your world and nature.  But spiders?  SPIDERS ARE NOT NATURE.  Spiders are evil.  Spiders can kill people, sweetie.  Aphids?  No.  Aphids don't kill people.  Grasshoppers?  Grasshoppers kill crops... but that's okay because we live in Utah and the grasshoppers know that if they get out of hand the seagulls will be all: "Oh, no, you diin't!"  So the grasshoppers keep a low profile around here. (Non-Utahn's will never understand the genius that is those last two sentences.  But you'll get it.  Eventually) Dragonfly's?  Dragonfly's don't kill people.  They eat mosquito's.  And they make Mommy happy cuz they're purty.  Spiders?  Even on the off chance that the spider you're handing me doesn't kill people, he has a distant cousin in Australia, Iraq or next door (lookin' at you black widow and brown recluse) that can. And will.  And even if he doesn't kill, he can maim (lookin' at you hobo spider). Therefore, the only responsible thing to do when you see a spider is to hyperventilate and scream until your Daddy comes running with a shoe.  Have I clarified this enough for you?  Bugs, good. Spiders... can go straight to hell.  That's where they came from.  Send them home, sweetie.  Do NOT hand one to me in a teacup.  Ever. Again.

Ahem.

You are talking so much these days.  And you pick up on EVERYTHING.  And I do mean, EVERYTHING.  In fact, Mommy currently "owns" a lot of words that we don't exactly want you repeating in public.  That's okay, though... cuz Daddy owns a few things of his own... like how you shove Costco samples into your mouth whole, rather than taking bites.  Yep.  Daddy owns THAT one.  You can also, apparently, spell.  Because you used to jump up immediately and head for the door when a walk was suggested.  So we started spelling walk.  It took about two days before you picked up on that and as soon as we spelled  W-A-L-K, you'd run to the door, and yell:  WALK!!! 

You also like to play on your computer.  And pull it out whenever Mommy or Daddy are on our computer.  There's just something about OMG BUTTONS!!! that you can't get enough of.  And heaven help us if you see Mommy put something in her pocket and you go to do the same and discover - horror of horrors - that you don't have a pocket in those pants.  THE HUMANITY!  THE ABSOLUTE INDIGNITY OF NOT HAVING POCKETS WHEN YOU NEED A FREAKIN' POCKET!

And while you're getting really good at verbalizing what you want, you still confound us with some of your words that we simply cannot figure out.  But when we do figure out what you mean, we feel like we've just passed some sort of Toddler Test.  For instance, you have been saying EC, a lot.  And it started shortly after Aunt KC babysat you and we just assumed that that was how you said Aunt KC.

Nope.

EC apparently stands for two things: 

1) Under the Sea... as in The Little Mermaid song... as in watching the video of Under the Sea on the computer. Over and over and over and over and over....

2) TV.  And now we know how Aunt KC keeps you entertained in our absence.  You say EC all the time.  And unfortunately, when either Mommy or Daddy is single-parenting it, we've had to sit you in your chair, and turn on the EC to Little Einsteins or Sesame Street so that we can feed Millie and put her to bed.  So... we're reinforcing the EC.  And it sucks.  But sometimes... well, sometimes that EC has saved our lives.  Seriously... I'm not sure what people did before EC.  I'm not sure how they kept their toddler out of the nursery, or kept them from setting the house on fire... but the EC has magical properties in that it can keep a toddler in a trance so that you can feed the baby and get dinner ready without having to navigate around Curious Hazel. 

Ah, Curious Hazel.  Curious Hazel loves to help.  Curious Hazel loves to throw away her diaper or her sissy's diaper.  And Curious Hazel likes to put stuff in the sink.  Things that may or may not belong in the sink.  Mommy has recently lost a wine glass to a bottle that you threw in the sink when I wasn't looking.  The good news is... there are more glasses where that one came from.  And you were just trying to help.  I cannot and will not ever get mad at that.  And I will remember this when you're a teenager and I can't get you to pick up a thing.

I've had to keep an eye on you lately because you think that you can pick up your sissy and I've had to jump up quickly and remind you that sissy need to stay on the ground.  You like to say "sissy" a lot.  And you have started saying Millie... but it comes out Miwwee.  And it's so stinkin' cute that I've started saying Miwwee. 

You've started to 'negotiate' bedtime.  Which I'm not a fan of.  We have decided that when it's time to wind down for the night, you get to pick one book for Daddy to read to you, and one book for Mommy to read to you.  And that's it.  Then we brush our teeth, give you a kiss and put you to bed.  We've had a few maintenance sessions of letting you cry for a bit... but this is non-negotiable, as far as I'm concerned.  7:30 is the latest you'll go to bed (barring a late night with friends occasionally) until you're much, much older.  Say, 21?

Speaking of books... my goodness, do you like to read!!  And not only that, but you are really understanding what's going on in the pictures.  And that, to me, is amazing.  The other night, we were reading Dr. Seuss' Foot Book.  And when we got to the part of "Well feet, Sick feet", you looked at the little character in the book, saw that his feet were "sick" and bandaged up, got a perplexed look on your face and said: "Ohhh." and leaned in to give the feet a kiss to make it better.  We read that book 15 times that night and every single time we came to the sick feet, you became very concerned.  As if you could feel the pain of the sick feet.  I've started showing you pictures of happy babies and crying babies... and you get very concerned when you see the picture of the crying baby and always give it a kiss. 

It's so stinkin' adorable I want to cry.

Currently you love having your hair done.  In a ponytail on top, pwease.  Which is good because you're hair is OUT of control and Mommy doesn't really know what to do with it other than to put it in a ponytail on top of your head, and smile politely when people giggle and say: "Awwww... she's so cute!  Did she do her hair by herself?"  Look... I happen to think you look great as Pebbles Flintstone. In fact... that's given me a great idea for Halloween.

You definitely know what you want and you're pumped that you can now verbalize it and Mommy jumps whenever you say:  Nana, wa-wa, melk, walk, park, pocket, rocks, acorn, tots, bib or piwwow.  In fact, I do believe that you wait until I get comfortable or am doing something else to ask me for something.  Even if you don't really want or need it.  You just like having the power to get me to do something.  The good news is that with this power comes great responsibility.  And since I know you now understand what I'm saying, there's a little more logic in my parenting.  Rather than just taking something from your hand because I know that negotiation is futile, I can reason with you (somewhat) and often get you to relinquish your grip on the rock or the dolly that's not yours.  When you hit... and yes, you hit... Mommy or Daddy can talk to you about why we don't hit.  And it usually ends with you saying sorry (sowwy) and giving us a hug and a kiss. 

That part of parenting rocks. 

Love,
Mama

7 Months??

Dear Milliseconds,
Can you tell that Mommy and Daddy discovered auto correct on their new phones this weekend?  And Millie quickly became Millieseconds... and we were to busy trying to figure out how the actual phone worked to bother with fixing the auto correct.

Today, you turned 7 months old.  Amazing.  You have had QUITE the month.  First off, you finally got some teeth!!!  Two of them popped through on September 1st.  Just in time for Labor Day.  And just in time for Mommy and Daddy to take a trip to Chicago and leave you and your sis in the care of Aunt KC and Grandma and Grandpa.  Also, at about the same time as those teeth popping through, you went on a MASSIVE growth spurt.  The kind where you stopped sleeping 14 hours a night and woke up to feed in the middle of the night and then again at 6 a.m.  This, of course, is after I had assured Aunt KC that you were a piece of cake and wouldn't give her any trouble.  But you were all:  "Cake?  Where's the cake?  I heard there was cake!"

So, that was fun for about two weeks before you went back to your regularly scheduled awesomeness.  I think that you knew we were at the end of our rope... and has possibly heard Daddy and I arguing about the need for you to "cry it out".  I have been a staunch opponent of the "cry it out" with you.  Why?  Because you NEVER cry.  You NEVER ask for ANYTHING.  So, when you do cry, something is wrong.  You're not just crying to mess with us... like your sis does did does. Anyway, the night we were going to let you cry it out, well... you just magically slept through the night.  Daddy and I woke up at 6 a.m. (because at this point, we had been trained) and looked at each other in confusion.  "Did you feed her during the night?  NO??? IS SHE STILL ALIVE?  Or has she starved to death in her sleep???"

The next night, I had a date with my friend and left you and Hazel in Daddy's capable hands.  And apparently, things went right to hell were rough for a bit around (what we lovingly refer to as the Witching half-Hour)  6-6:30.  Hazel was screaming for food and you were starving because you had last eaten at 5 and you expect to be fed right before bed and... IT'S TIME TO EAT AND WHEN IT'S TIME TO EAT, THERE BETTER BE SOME FOOD IN MY GENERAL VICINITY MOUTH RIGHT. NOW.

So, Daddy put you in bed and ran to fix your bottle... all the while both you and your sis were screaming your heads off.  And then as suddenly as it started, it stopped.  You passed out after less than a minute of crying.  Further bolstering Daddy's claim that Mommy is too much of a softy with you.

Which means that YOU helped prove Daddy right.  You have a lot of explaining to do.  Once you can talk.

In other groundbreaking developments, guess who is finally sitting up on her own??  It's been tough with you, Millie.  You always seemed to list to the left.  And then after your listing... you just fell headfirst. And then proceeded to wiggle around and army-man it (head down, mind you) to the other side of the room.  But on September 10, I put you down really quickly so that I could run to the back of the house and put my face on... and when I came back out 10 minutes or so later, you were still sitting up in the same spot.  Looking very pleased with yourself.

And just like that, we are one step closer to being totally screwed.  Because I really feel like you're going to be legitimately crawling in the next month or so.  And after that?  Well, you're already a big, BIG fan of standing up.  I don't believe you'll be contained much longer.

And you cannot WAIT for that day.  Because, let me tell you... you are so ready to get in on the action.  You watch your older sister so closely and so intently that I just know that eventually, the morning routines are going to include the two of you ganging up on me and running wild.

You are still the happiest baby in school.  Even when you're a little sick.  I'll come to pick you up after work and I'll hear one or two babies losing their minds and I'm always a little worried that it's you.  Because no mom wants to think about her baby being upset or unhappy at day care.  But whenever I walk in, you're just laying there, playing with your toes or gnawing on a toy, just enjoying the world.  And lately when I walk in, you look at me and you smile so big that I'm actually afraid your face is going to break.

Lately, you've become a bit of a snuggler and want to be sitting on my lap or just be held all the time.  In fact, when I put you down and sit behind you, you immediately turn and crawl on to me.  It's amazing to me because you've never really cared to be held at all.  You've also become a big fan of my hair to help anchor you to place.  And hey, if that hair is also available for you to drool on, who are you to complain.

You are not a really big fan of loud things (except your sister) or dogs.  Especially dogs.  Aunt KC brought Gus over once and you almost started hyperventilating.  (I really need to get that on film... if only I wouldn't feel like a bad mother for doing it on purpose to you.)  It's so strange to me because your older sister immediately loved noisy things and dogs and kittys.  But you... you're not having it.  Dogs and kittys may as well be aliens sent to suck out your brains.  And loud noises.  Where do I begin?  We have a little toy with a monkey on top of it that makes noise when it rolls and your sister loves to pick it up and slam it on the ground (you know, to break in the new flooring) and to you this is the equivalent of an actual monkey... in a cat suit... riding a dog... and stealing your binkie.

You started eating solids a couple of weeks ago.  It took a while for you to come around to the cereal, but when you finally got used to it, you murdered it every time we fed you.  We have recently introduced other "solids" like pureed peaches and sweet potatoes.  Each of which result in full-body shivers and a stubborn refusal to eat another bite.  Of anything.  Look at you... 6 months old and you've already been labeled as our "picky eater".  Who knew that Chilly Millie would have such high standards for food?

You've also slowed down your eating since your growth spurt.  And some days, it's hard for me to get you to eat more than a tablespoon of cereal and 4 oz of milk at a sitting.  Which, is probably normal for most babies.  Who aren't giants.  But for 7-month-olds who are already easily fitting into 12-18 month old clothes?  THEY EAT. 

I can't wait to see what this next month brings you.  I already suspect that the next few weeks will see you no longer in the infant carrier... you're getting REALLY heavy to carry in that thing and I've started to just take you out of it and carry you in to day care.  It's sad to me because... well, it just means that pretty soon, I'm not going to have a baby anymore.  And you'll want to walk into school like your sister.  And then... well then what am I good for?  Besides wiping your butt?

Love,
Mama