do not leave baby unattended.

Except to take five trillion adorable pictures of Claire and her pals lined up in their backpacks after a hike. Then, you know, attend to her, but first make sure you have plenty of photographic evidence of your great playdate.

14

Dear Claire,
There is so much to tell you. Of all of your ages, this has been my favorite. There are moments when I miss the delicate cuddle monkey that you once were, curled up on my chest after nursing, but you at 14 months are so much fun. Your drink of choice is goat's milk, and if an uninformed grandma thinks she's going to feed it to you, you let her know that you can handle it yourself. You're a big girl like that.

You had so many firsts at 14 months. You walked. You climbed to the top of your slide and slid down unassisted. You had your first little scraped knees and your first injury involving blood. (We both cried). You also discovered that cribs make excellent climbing structures. And that ottomans sometimes hide treasures.

Of all of the firsts, my favorite has been watching you dance. I'm not sure where you picked up your moves, or who showed you reruns of SNL, but as soon as there is background music, you are rocking. I have to tell you girlie, you're not a great dancer. My first thought when I saw you dancing, was, did she learn that from me? You get this dead serious, maniacal expression and full-force head bob. It is hilarious. We'll need to work on dance moves before you hit junior high. Thankfully, we have tons of time.

Love,
Mama

iderdiderdiderdider

Claire started doing this thing with her tongue when she wants our attention and when she's happy. She does it constantly. Sometimes, we'll even hear her doing it in her sleep. The exception is when I pull out the video camera. Then, she becomes coy. The result is hours of video of the girl with a soundtrack of her mama making noises that don't sound nearly as cute coming from an adult. I do have one tiny clip of her introducing the blog, unfortunately she is wearing her usual suit of blueberries.



As promised, I am adding the new name to the top of this blog, even if my redirect isn't directing. Right now if you go to our website, a young Demi Moore will tell you that we're "coming soon." I'm going to keep working on redirecting the blog, but between a strong urge to add floor installation to my resume and a Catholic rummage sale, it could be a few days before we actually make the move to iderdider land.

rue living.

Three great things about where we live:
1. A yard for the girl.
2. Neighbors with fruit trees who like to share.
3. Increased opportunity to hear Nate slaughter the word "rural."

channeling my inner-seacrest.

Claire has a new trick. When she wants someone to pick her up she throws both arms above her head and gives you the eye. So far, I am unable to resist this move. I'm a sucker for her attempts at communication and this one is both cute and useful.

Lately, I feel like the whole world is lifting its chubby arms at me and giving me the eye. Seriously, world, I can't pick you up right now. I'd like to, but Mama is tired. I am the kind of tired that only a parent can fully appreciate. Teeth-cutting tired. Nap-refusing tired. I'm starting to feel like lifting my arms up toward the sky and waiting for someone to pick me up too.


There's also the matter of the new blog name. I made a decision, shelled out (Nate's) hard-earned money registering the domain name and made a new masthead for my blog. Then I tried (unsuccessfully) to redirect this blog to the new place. Blogger has a pretty straightforward tutorial on this, but I haven't had any luck. If anyone has experience doing this, please leave a comment. I'm not sure what to do at this point. I'm hoping to have the blog redirected by the end of the week. Or by the end of next week if the world doesn't put its arms down.

About the title. I received tons of wonderful suggestions, but ended up using something that wasn't suggested. I let the toddler name the blog. Really. Since her verbal skills are still developing and mama.com, hi.com and dog.com are already taken, I went with the next best thing. It is a word that is only a word in our house. It is a form of communication. It is an expression of joy.

I'll tell you...after the break.

the dadaship.

The other night, we walked through Riverfront Park. Claire has ridden on the carousel a few times, but never with Nate. We paid for the ride, the music revved and they were off. With a grin plastered to her face and a tiny, chubby hand on her Dada's chest, the girl was in heaven. Nate caught my eye as they circled around, and a moment later, I was crying. I have officially become that mother.

Something about those chubby little fingers clinging to Nate's t-shirt. Something about her visible joy each time she spotted me in the crowd. The tears just welled up.

When I met Nate I was skeptical. He was this opinionated, eccentric guy in dirty shirts. We would take long walks and talk about why we should "just be friends." That we were "too different." Ours is not a sweep you off your feet kind of story. During our many times of uncertainty, I had this image of a child taking tentative steps toward Nate's outstretched hands, and I knew that he would make a wonderful father. And he does. Nate is still opinionated and still eccentric. Thankfully, his shirts aren't as dirty. He is my very best friend. He is also my little girl's favorite guy. He is her Dada.

We are both crazy about him.

Happy 2nd Father's Day, Mate. I love you.

now with added mobility.

Before I had Claire I wasn't sure how I felt about being a stay-at-home mom. I knew it would be great for me to be able to be home for all of her firsts, but it was hard for me to imagine spending hours on end with a small person who didn't speak. It was even harder for me to imagine spending all day with a small person who frequently pooped in her pants. There are parts of this job that are incredibly hard. And lonely. There are few pats on the back and even fewer pay raises. I know that quality childcare is out there if I wanted to go back to work. Still, I have come to discover that this is exactly where I want to be. Yesterday, was one of those days that I am reminded why I have chosen to be home.



Sorry for the cruddy quality, but holy cow! My baby can walk!

who posts twice on a saturday?

Someone who misses her friend.

Claire would like to add, "Katie, call my mommy or email her. We definitely need to get together and play."

a day in numbers & a silver lining

One bored toddler. One tired mama. One veggie omelet split three ways. One leaky living room ceiling. One handy dada, braving the elements. Two trips to the grocery store. Two bubble baths. One generous handful of frozen blueberries. Two eggsalad sandwiches to make the grownups giggle. Two girls in hats, making the most of a rainy Saturday.
I haven't abandoned my plan to change the title of this blog. Life has been busy and I (think) I have made a decision, but I'm not ready to share it quite yet. How's that for mysterious??? Prizes and new blogwarming to come soon. I promise.

booty call.

One of Claire's favorite snacks is Pirate Booty. It's a favorite car-snack because it's pretty cute to watch her reach a chubby hand up to the front seat for each bite. The booty is also way less messy than some of her other favorite snacks (that's right, bananas, I'm talking to you). And, it's fun to say booty. Right now at amazon, there is a sweet deal on various booties and other Robert's Snacks. For a snack food company, Robert's is pretty natural. There's even a coupon code that allows you to type the word booty, which isn't nearly as fun as saying it, but still.

better when we're together.

It would help if you sort of hummed a Jack Johnson song to yourself while you read this post. Me, Nate, Claire, Monk and Jack Johnson went on a (very tiny) campout this weekend. Jack has gone with us on every driving trip of Claire's life since she was four months old. Car trips during those first four months were HORRIBLE. She would cry and scream and freak out for miles. As a new mom, unaccustomed to the wailing of a wee one, I would pull over the car and hold her, nurse her, sing to her, give her toys. Nothing worked. I even gave up driving for a short time and would walk everywhere to avoid her sobs. While my thighs thanked me for this effort, this city doesn't have great public transportation and the walking wasn't fun when it wasn't by choice.

A friend suggested playing Jack Johnson in the car for Claire. He had worked for her son. I was skeptical, but this was an easy fix. I already had that yellow CD. I'm telling you, this guy is the Pied Piper of babies. From the first guitar strum, Claire chills out like a champ. This has worked for well over a year with 100% effectiveness. The only problem is that I've been sitting, waiting, wishing that I could get something else into my head for close to a year now. This week, I bought a new (old) Jack Johnson CD. Amazingly, it has the same effect as the trusty yellow one, but gives this mama a break from those delicious banana pancakes.
We secured Jack by rigging up a boombox in the back of our camper bus, and headed into the mountains. Our first family campout was short, but was a ton of fun. We went for a walk and on the way back to our campsite, were drenched by an almost tropical downpour that wouldn't stop. Hot and sticky from our hike, the rain felt awesome and Clare laughed in the ergo carrier the whole time. When we got back to our (drenched) campsite, we changed, loaded up our drenched belongings and headed home. Our gameplan had been to put Claire to sleep in the bus and hang out by the fire together for a few hours before joining her. "Hang out by the campfire" suddenly became "sit quietly in the bus while Claire fights to stay awake and probably throws things at us." Braver parents might have attempted to stay, but we are not those parents.
Since this fortunate fool has been sitting here for much too long trying to incorporate "no prints can come from fingers if machines become our hands" and "sepiatone loving" into an already too long post, I will hit "publish" before the girl wakes up from her nap. Maybe this is how it's supposed to be.