Here is a video of the lil' dude from our vacation last week.
I'll remind you of two things before you preview it:
This girls LOVES to sleep.
She prefers the pitch black to do so {much like her Daddy}.
What a little vampire!
SO yes, that is where she napped for three straight days ... nothing made her happier. She was content in the bed during the night- when the room was pitch black, of course.
I love the part when her blankets get stuck, and she has to move them.
Thursday, October 15, 2009
Wednesday, October 14, 2009
Wednesday, October 7, 2009
Letter from Mama, v22
You are 22 months old today, lil' dude. I bet you're wondering for how much longer I am going to continue referring to your age in months. The answer is ... about two more months. That's so soon. People ask me now how old you are, and I just say, she'll be two in December.
And, people ask me that all the time. Like, last Sunday morning, you and I woke up very early. We headed uptown for mochas and banana-blackberry muffins at the coffee shop. You ran to our spot in the back by the fireplace and worn leather sofa. We sat for an hour, until I had drank the last of my coffee and you had put back the animal memory game you were playing with. Several patrons commented on how sweet and polite and calm you were. They naturally asked how old you were and were shocked when I said, she'll be two in December. You're an old soul. I say that all the time.
You're about to embark on the biggest adventures of your little life tomorrow afternoon. You're boarding an airplane with Daddy and Mama and we're headed to the west coast for a long weekend. Lucky! I was 17 the first time I flew on an airplane! There's this page in your baby book that says, "baby's first vacation" and when I began filling in your story when you finally arrived, I wondered about that page. Where we would go, how old you would be. I am so excited to be sharing this with you, little girl. We're going to have a blast! You, Daddy, and I? We're the best team ever!
This month, you've continued to hone your skills as a real-live person. This morning, you and I went out to the garage to leave for the day, with you saying, see yah, Daddy. Bye-bye Beagle. Daddy smiled and said, "such a little person she is." You continue to love books and reading, going to sleep at night, eating fruit, drinking milk, playing with your farm and babies, and being thrown around in the air by Daddy and his big muscles. You're the reason and the answer to everything, lil' dude, and we're so delighted to have you in our lives.
Mama loves.
Tuesday, October 6, 2009
Pumpkin
Being a good person is like being a pumpkin. God lifts you up, takes you in, and washes all the dirt off of you. He opens you up, touches you deep inside and scoops out all of the yucky stuff -- including the seeds of doubt, hate, greed, etc. Then He carves you a bright new smiling face and puts His light inside of you to shine for all the world to see.
{Thanks to the lil' dude's auntie S. for the sweet little seed of pumpkintasticness!}
Monday, October 5, 2009
In Your Blood
Major league baseball is in your blood, lil' dude.
Especially when it comes to our hometown team.
Mama is named after a major league baseball player- did you know that? It's a fun piece of trivia which stumps people. My grandma S, your grandma-great, has loved our hometown baseball team for years. For decades. I am named after her favorite player, who was a member of the team from 1958-1970. Even though I was born in 1980, Grandma's favorite still resonated with my own Mama, your grandma G., and my name was chosen in honor.
To this day when I call my grandma I can count on three things being the topic of any of our conversations. The garden, the weather, and the Minnesota Twins.
And then, there's your grandpa T. Oh, he puts the FANATIC in fan all right.
Once this summer when your grandma S. and I were going through some of her old memories, we came across a note from her bridal shower, from grandpa T.'s mama, your grandma-great D. She wrote down advice for the new bride to be; who would become her daughter-in-law in 1974. The note said something along the lines of;
To keep T. happy, the rules are simple.
Do not make anything with onions in it.
And don't touch his stuff.
Especially his baseball cards.
Oh, the laugh I got out of that one, all these years later.
Yesterday's game was an important one. The season finale to be played at the Metrodome, the home of the Minnesota Twins for the last 28 seasons. The place people love to hate, and hate to love, it's been part of the Minneapolis skyline for nearly three decades. And we just had to be there with your grandpa T. for the last game.
You see, he took Daddy to the final Twins game at The Met, The Metropolitan Stadium, on September 30th, 1981. Daddy was three years old, not much older than you are now. Grandpa bought us all tickets when they went on sale in the spring, sure to not miss the tradition so rich and steeped with meaning to this family.
The game yesterday did not disappoint.
And you, my little fan, didn't either.
You cheered when we cheered.
You booed when we booed.
You sang when we sang.
You stretched in the 7th inning.
You got your face painted.
You loved seeing the mascot.
You ate stadium food like a champ; hotdogs, popcorn, nachos, licorice, sips of soda.
And you were there, wide-eyed and bushy-tailed until the very last pitch.
I could not have been more proud of you for the way you behaved. Four hours in an insane atmosphere of 51,000+ fans. Without a nap. Without proper room to romp for a busy toddler.
Like most things in my life, I have a bit of nostalgia when it comes to the Dome. It was where I went to my first major league game. It was where you went to yours. It was where I met your grandpa T. and grandma S. for the very first time. It was where Daddy and I celebrated our engagement and proudly showed off my sparkly diamond ring to my in-laws for the very first time.
Next summer, when we take you to a game, we'll be wearing sunglasses and SPF, sipping on slushies.
Or, winter jackets, boots, and drinking cocoa.
Whatever it may be, one thing is certain.
We'll continue to build more and more memories in our lifetime of baseball love.
Especially when it comes to our hometown team.
Mama is named after a major league baseball player- did you know that? It's a fun piece of trivia which stumps people. My grandma S, your grandma-great, has loved our hometown baseball team for years. For decades. I am named after her favorite player, who was a member of the team from 1958-1970. Even though I was born in 1980, Grandma's favorite still resonated with my own Mama, your grandma G., and my name was chosen in honor.
To this day when I call my grandma I can count on three things being the topic of any of our conversations. The garden, the weather, and the Minnesota Twins.
And then, there's your grandpa T. Oh, he puts the FANATIC in fan all right.
Once this summer when your grandma S. and I were going through some of her old memories, we came across a note from her bridal shower, from grandpa T.'s mama, your grandma-great D. She wrote down advice for the new bride to be; who would become her daughter-in-law in 1974. The note said something along the lines of;
To keep T. happy, the rules are simple.
Do not make anything with onions in it.
And don't touch his stuff.
Especially his baseball cards.
Oh, the laugh I got out of that one, all these years later.
Yesterday's game was an important one. The season finale to be played at the Metrodome, the home of the Minnesota Twins for the last 28 seasons. The place people love to hate, and hate to love, it's been part of the Minneapolis skyline for nearly three decades. And we just had to be there with your grandpa T. for the last game.
You see, he took Daddy to the final Twins game at The Met, The Metropolitan Stadium, on September 30th, 1981. Daddy was three years old, not much older than you are now. Grandpa bought us all tickets when they went on sale in the spring, sure to not miss the tradition so rich and steeped with meaning to this family.
The game yesterday did not disappoint.
And you, my little fan, didn't either.
You cheered when we cheered.
You booed when we booed.
You sang when we sang.
You stretched in the 7th inning.
You got your face painted.
You loved seeing the mascot.
You ate stadium food like a champ; hotdogs, popcorn, nachos, licorice, sips of soda.
And you were there, wide-eyed and bushy-tailed until the very last pitch.
I could not have been more proud of you for the way you behaved. Four hours in an insane atmosphere of 51,000+ fans. Without a nap. Without proper room to romp for a busy toddler.
Like most things in my life, I have a bit of nostalgia when it comes to the Dome. It was where I went to my first major league game. It was where you went to yours. It was where I met your grandpa T. and grandma S. for the very first time. It was where Daddy and I celebrated our engagement and proudly showed off my sparkly diamond ring to my in-laws for the very first time.
Next summer, when we take you to a game, we'll be wearing sunglasses and SPF, sipping on slushies.
Or, winter jackets, boots, and drinking cocoa.
Whatever it may be, one thing is certain.
We'll continue to build more and more memories in our lifetime of baseball love.
Sunday, October 4, 2009
3:22am
It's Saturday morning, 3:22am.
I hear you cry and then scream.
I bolt upright, my heart in my throat as I dash to you in the dark.
It's unusual, to say the least, you being awake at night.
I fumble in the dark, looking for you in your bed.
Stuck, you wail, from the tangled confines of your star bedding.
I find the center of your heat, feel the little girl lump and see that yes, you are very stuck and tangled up indeed.
I right you against your pillow, NaNa tucked under your chin, and shh-shh-soothe you until your chest stops heaving with fear and you fall sleep again.
{Reminds me of another member of this household who needs help getting untangled from bed sometimes, too.}
I hear you cry and then scream.
I bolt upright, my heart in my throat as I dash to you in the dark.
It's unusual, to say the least, you being awake at night.
I fumble in the dark, looking for you in your bed.
Stuck, you wail, from the tangled confines of your star bedding.
I find the center of your heat, feel the little girl lump and see that yes, you are very stuck and tangled up indeed.
I right you against your pillow, NaNa tucked under your chin, and shh-shh-soothe you until your chest stops heaving with fear and you fall sleep again.
{Reminds me of another member of this household who needs help getting untangled from bed sometimes, too.}
Thursday, October 1, 2009
On Being a Girl-Person
Some days, I swear I can still feel you kicking from within.
And sometimes, I swear you're spending your afternoon nap curled up in a tiny ball in your swing.
Then, you grab me by the cheeks, focus your eyes on mine and say, "Mama. Mama!"
And I snap out of it and look at you, my girl-person that you are.
....
On Monday, I wore a preppy navy blue headband. It has this neat little bow on the side. For some reason, I love this headband. It's smart. That evening, you were on my lap, facing me and telling me about your day. You pointed to my headband, touching it. You said, nice. All-sarcastic like. I asked you to repeat yourself. Nice, you intoned. The Dad laughed. When you asked nicely to hold it, I handed you my preppy navy blue headband and you promptly snapped it in half.
OK. I get it.
...
Last night you were coloring with chubby crayons at your easel. You grabbed up all your colors, and placed them in the tray, saying, " ... eight, nine, TEN."
I looked at you.
"What?"
" ... Eight, nine, TEN," you repeated, without breaking stride.
I asked you what you were doing, and you pointed to your crayons and said, "count."
And then my head exploded.
I texted the lovely and talented Daycare lady and she confirmed.
"Yeah, LOL. We count here."
You are such a bright ray of sunshine, lil' dude. You are so good and make your parents so proud.
You accept discipline.
You apologize for any wrongdoings.
You listen very well.
You are generous, kindhearted, clever, and spirited.
And, you know. You make your Mama's head explode.
And sometimes, I swear you're spending your afternoon nap curled up in a tiny ball in your swing.
Then, you grab me by the cheeks, focus your eyes on mine and say, "Mama. Mama!"
And I snap out of it and look at you, my girl-person that you are.
....
On Monday, I wore a preppy navy blue headband. It has this neat little bow on the side. For some reason, I love this headband. It's smart. That evening, you were on my lap, facing me and telling me about your day. You pointed to my headband, touching it. You said, nice. All-sarcastic like. I asked you to repeat yourself. Nice, you intoned. The Dad laughed. When you asked nicely to hold it, I handed you my preppy navy blue headband and you promptly snapped it in half.
OK. I get it.
...
Last night you were coloring with chubby crayons at your easel. You grabbed up all your colors, and placed them in the tray, saying, " ... eight, nine, TEN."
I looked at you.
"What?"
" ... Eight, nine, TEN," you repeated, without breaking stride.
I asked you what you were doing, and you pointed to your crayons and said, "count."
And then my head exploded.
I texted the lovely and talented Daycare lady and she confirmed.
"Yeah, LOL. We count here."
You are such a bright ray of sunshine, lil' dude. You are so good and make your parents so proud.
You accept discipline.
You apologize for any wrongdoings.
You listen very well.
You are generous, kindhearted, clever, and spirited.
And, you know. You make your Mama's head explode.
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