Maggie, Month Eleven

My dear, sweet Magoodle-pie,

I kinda put off writing this post, because ELEVEN? How the hell did that happen? How did you get to be eleven months old already kiddo? Well, here goes nothing.

You have really grown a lot this month. First off, you've discovered electronics. Remotes and phones are at the top of your must have list these days, and no decoys will do. No matter how realistic they are, you always prefer the real thing to the toy/no-longer-in-use version. This frustrates your siblings to no end, because you always manage to find the TiVo remote while they're watching something. Once you get a hold of it, the show gets fast forwarded, rewound and put on slow-mo with no regard to the viewers. But if they take the remote from you, you cry, and nobody likes it when you cry. So they cry. It's a vicious cycle.

You have six teeth now, which is apparently the perfect amount for eating crackers, but not soft pieces of fruit or carrots. What's up with that? You will happily chow down on anything dry and carb-ish, but if I dare to feed you baby food that isn't pureed within an inch of its life? You spit it out. At least you're cute, right?

So for the first ten months of your life you adored me over all others. You tolerated your father as long as I wasn't around, and you liked your brother and sister ok, but I was the one who buttered your toast. But then, out of nowhere, you discovered your Nunni. And now? I'm chopped liver when she's visiting. Never in my life have I been so totally and thoroughly rejected by one of my own children in their infancy. When she's here she can't even go to the bathroom, because you wail inconsolably, even in the arms of your adoring mother. While it kind of dashes my heart into a million little pieces, it's worth it to see the look on my mother's face when she's with you.

You're not walking yet (thank the heavens) but you cruise, crawl and walk with assistance like a pro. You can stand up by yourself, but not if you think about it too hard. You can shake your head 'yes' and 'no', play peek-a-boo, give kisses, pat your hand over your mouth to make funny noises, say 'mama' clearly and with intention, and you can demand that I sing 'If You're Happy and You Know It' on an endless loop by clapping your hands. Once someone starts singing it to you, it's all over. You'll just keep clapping, getting more and more angry, until they continue. It's kind of funny, really, to see you super-ultra pissed off, but still clapping insistently.

The little girl in you is starting to shine through. Even though I'll miss my baby Maggs more than I can say, I'll love my toddler Maggs more than enough to make up for it. Even if I still can't say exactly what color your eyes are!

Love, Mama

Zzzzzzzzzzzz

This week almost killed me.

Metaphorically, of course, but still. That would make me metaphorically dead, and I'm sure that isn't fun at all.

Back in March I signed Sam and Lucy up for preschool. The school I choose goes all the way up through 8th grade, so I figured if we liked it we could just keep sending them there. They informed me that since the kids would be different ages that they would be in different classes. What they didn't mention was that the classes were held at different times, because there is only one pre-school teacher. So back at the beginning of the month I found out that Lucy would be in class from 8-11 and Sam would be in class from 12-3. I also learned that there was no pre/post care for the preschoolers, so I wouldn't be able to just leave one of them there for an extra hour so that I didn't have to make four individual trips to the school each day.

By the end of the day Monday I was a quivering heap, and so was Maggie, who had almost no nap to speak of. I've arranged some carpooling for next week, and we got a babysitter from the university who starts on Monday, so I'm hoping I won't feel so wrecked next Friday.

Having the kids in school was supposed to make my life a little easier, right? Except now I'm getting up at the same time as SOB so I can get everyone up and dressed and fed and out the door by 7:35 each morning, and I have three loads of laundry to fold and put away and there are dishes in the sink from god knows when and and and.

I'm going to go catch a short nap before I have to wake everone else up to get in the car to pick up Sam. Wish me luck.

Wishes

My girlie turned three yesterday. Today was her first day of school. Just before her nap, she said to me, 'Wait! I want to kiss your face!' Despite all of our struggles, she really has gotten under my skin.

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I guess this would technically be my dad's best shot Monday, but it was my favorite from last week. For more visit Tracey at Mother May I.

Lucy is Three!

Photo and video editing at www.OneTrueMedia.com

Z is for Zipper

This is the end. That's all I can say about that.

For more Team Up Thursday, visit Megan, Melody and Flickr.

Dwelling

One of the best things about our old neighborhood was the people in it. We had some of the coolest, nicest neighbors in the world. Through the miracle of modern technology (aka Facebook) I am able to keep in touch with some of them. This was how I found out about The Night Kitchen Bakery appearing on TLC's Amazing Cakes.

This is also how I've found out about what is going on back at the old house. Our old next door neighbors have been keeping us abreast of the progress going on over there. In one way, it's totally cool to know about they're doing, but occasionally it really depresses me. For example, they're closing in the front of the house, which was something we always wanted to do but couldn't really afford. It's going to make the house so much more livable. However, since they haven't moved in yet they've let the backyard turn into a jungle. The grass, which we nurtured and loved, has totally died out and the mulched areas are overrun with weeds.

But the thing that really killed me? They cut down the apple trees. Both of them. Even though the apples were on the cusp of being ready to pick. The apple trees that I loved and protected. The subject of countless photographs. They had been in the neighborhood for generations, there were only a handful left, and without a thought they just chopped them down. I can almost understand why they cut down the one in the front yard, since they were totally changing the front of the house. The one in the back yard was younger, healthier, and totally unobtrusive, though, and I can't wrap my mind around why they destroyed it.

I know I'm hormonal. I know it's not my house anymore. I just can't keep myself from dwelling.

When History Repeats Itself

When I was 14 years old (and my hair looked like this) I visited a county fair with my friend. Her father was a farmer and he had legitimate reasons for attending, like buying livestock. My friend and I only came along for the fried dough, entertainment and boy watching. After checking out the rides we decided against them. We were already smart enough to know better, so we decided to spend our money playing games. Because it was the summer before my freshman year of high school, I was pretty much 100% more awesome than anyone. In addition to being straight up awesome, though, I wanted to be bad ass. Never mind the face that I was a straight-A student who attended church every weekend (as a reader, even) and had never even broken a curfew. I wanted to be bad ass. And how was I to achieve bad ass status?

I needed a knife.

Yes, a knife. The only reason I decided on a knife, as opposed to a gun or some liquor, was because at the county fair there was a ring toss game where you could win a knife. The game consisted of several rotating tables with knives stabbed into them. If you tossed a ring around a knife, you won it! It looked kinda exactly like this:

After throwing several dollars in rings into the air, I finally landed one! My bad assery was about begin. But first I had to find my friend's parents because you had to be 18 to collect your prize.

I carried that knife around in my purse for about six months because I was terrified that if I put it in my room somewhere my mom would find it and ground me. Despite being a total bad ass, I was still afraid of losing my TV privileges. Then in the spring it was time for our annual visit to my grandparents in Florida, and I realized that I couldn't take my knife on the plane with me, so I sold it to a boy in my french class for $5. BAD ASS!

What does this have to do with anything?

Well, we visited the county fair on Saturday afternoon.

The knife ring toss game is wildly popular, so it's positioned right near the entrance. SOB, who is very familiar with my bad ass story, immediately decided that I would be playing until I won. Pregnant, with a baby in a stroller and two preschoolers in tow. I was reluctant, to say the least, but SOB put the money down on the table and the carnie put the rings down before me. I decided to be a sport, and also to let the kids in on the action.

Sam tossed the first ring. And guess where it landed?

My four year old landed the ring squarely on a fucking knife!

We laughed so hard the carnie thought we were weird.

And so, I think we can now safely say that we're fitting in just fine here in West Virginia.

Y is for Yellow

We almost didn't make it this week! I took this Y photo back in March of 2009 and never named the file so I would be able to find it. After a long time of searching through lots of folders, and reliving lots of memories, I finally came across it this morning. This was actually the shot that gave me the initial idea to look for letters in nature. The shot that started it all, if you will.

Chrissie is visiting her sister, who has three adorable kids, and she used their arts and crafts time to capture this yellow crayon. She took a lot of shots, but I especially liked this one because of the English, Spanish, and French. Waaaaaaaaaay back in the day, Chrissie and I met in our college French class, so I often think of her when I see the written French word. Plus, she lived in Mexico for a time and is fluent in Spanish, so I also often think of her when I see Spanish text. So even though it sounds really weird, this shot of a yellow crayon reminds me of a lot of happy memories of our friendship.

Can you tell I'm pregnant and maybe a little hormonal?

For more Team Up Thursday, visit Megan, Melody and Flickr!

Homesick

A week and a half ago we went to a movie. Multiplex theaters are pretty much the same here in West Virginia as they are anywhere, and when the lights came up and we walked outside, I was initially confused as to where I was. My brain though I was at the movie theater in King of Prussia.

That night, just before bed, SOB said to me, "Do you think that we'll really ever belong here?"

I couldn't fall asleep for a long while after that.

Since we've been here I haven't let myself do the thing I did in Atlanta, which was sit around and compare it to Philly to the point where I hated living there. I haven't let myself think much about Philly at all, because honestly, there is no comparing the two places. They are simply too different. We knew when we moved here that it was going to be a world apart from what we were used to. But knowing that he was thinking about it was all it took to open my mind to my memories.

The way the city smelled on a hot August afternoon, but not on trash day.

The way coffee with friends was always just a phone call away.

The way my front yard looked first thing in the morning.

The way a Vietnamese hoagie tasted.

The way we could walk to the playground, even though the sidewalk was cracked and heaved from the roots of 100 year old tress.

We have such a different life here. We see family every week. We have an amazing home. I want to be happy here, and I plan to work as hard as I have to to do so.

But sometimes, I just want to go back home.

Front Yard Nature Show

One of the previous owners of this house planted several flowering plants around the property. In the front, next to the driveway, is a big, purple buddleja. Every time we have visitors they are amazed with just how many butterflies (and bees) are sipping at the nectar. I've taken out my camera a few times and managed to snap some reasonably good photos, though with the availability I'm betting (hoping) there will be better ones in the future!

For more Best Shot Monday, visit Tracey at Mother May I.

For Your Amusement

Here mom! I drew a picture of you!

See, I used orange paper because it's my favorite color. And I made your face purple because it's your favorite color. And I made your beard green because it's Lucy's favorite color.

What a sweet boy, no?

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As if you didn't see this one coming, here's the newest addition to the family. He/she will be making an appearance around St. Patrick's Day, 2011.

X is for Xylophone

For more Team Up Thursday, visit Melody, Megan and Flickr!

Maggie, Month Ten

Missus Magoo -

Why do you insist on eating my new furniture? Also, why are you big enough to get up and eat my furniture?

This month has been fun. Although there haven't been too many new developments you've been working on improving the skills you already have. You can crawl at the speed of sound now, and stair climbing has become a cinch. You love to eat new things, like crackers. Fish crackers, graham crackers, ritz crackers, you love them all. However, any baby food with chunks in it is immediately spit out. WTF with that, baby girl?

You've also been working on perfecting your angry face. Here's somewhat annoyed:

Here's pretty PO'ed:

And here's totally enraged:

It's kinda cute, don't you think? Especially framed with your three curls! Luckily, you smile most of the time!

You are, in all honesty, such a good baby. Everyone notices. You are sweet and good natured, you sleep well, eat well and are as cute as a button. I am a lucky mama, for sure.

It's hard to believe that you'll be having a birthday in two months. Can we just pretend that isn't going to happen? I want to keep you baby-fied forever.

Love, Mama

Birthday Treats

It's no secret that I love little hands and feet. Add some first birthday celebration and those tiny fingers become just that more delicious!

For more Best Shots Monday, visit Tracey Clark at Mother May I!