I have been in several situations lately where people were talking about baby sign language.
This is not something that we have done with Gracie, mainly because it's not something they do at her school and it didn't really occur to me to try it out at home. I think as a mom, and maybe especially a working mom, you are always slightly on edge about something other children may be doing that your child is not...so just for curiosity's sake I checked out the top ten most common baby signs.
The first grouping listed was for Mommy, Daddy, and family pets. Gracie has this one down...sort of. She will forcefully say "DOG" or "KITTY CAT" when said pet walks into the room, but does not yet say Mama or Daddy. She prefers to holler at whomever she wants until that parent turns around and then she demands to be picked up. Probably not the sign they were talking about, but effective nonetheless.
The second group was for food. Milk, Food, More, and All Done. Gracie has recently learned to shake her head yes and no. Let's just say that leaves little to the imagination as to what she does and does not want. She also knows where certain foods are kept. Bananas on top of the fridge....annnddd her cookies in a drawer near the sink. A lot of grunting and pointing and rocking whomever is holding her towards to the direction of the food she wants usually results in the appropriate snack (and I promise it is most often a banana). As for more, the indignant look on her face when the last piece of cheese toast is gone is a pretty good indication that more food is required. And for all done...the resounding sound of a sippy cup hitting the floor and exploding gets the point across pretty well.
The final group was experiences and feelings. The first being a dirty diaper. Let's just say I've never really felt we needed a sign for this one. The second is book. Gracie LOVES books. She especially loves books about kitty cats. She will let you know she would like to read books about kitty cats by hurling the book at you and shouting "KITTY CAT!" at the top of her lungs.
The final sign listed was I love you. Again, we have no formal sign from Gracie that says she loves us...but lately she will crawl into our laps and wrap her little arms around our necks and bury her head into ours and just leave it there for a while. Message received.
So this is one mommy guilt-trip where I'm going to let myself off the hook. I saw the sign.
Monday, February 4, 2013
Sunday, January 27, 2013
Lucky Us
Today, this earth lost one of the best Dads that I have ever had the pleasure of knowing.
My childhood best friend, Walker, lost her father earlier this afternoon. Art Howson was a really good at a lot of things, but he was first and foremost a really good dad. Plenty of Walker's friends could write about Art...or Mr. Howson as he was known to me...better than I can in recent years, but the memories I have are from living right up the street for a majority of my time at home.
Walker and I became best friends somewhere around the first or second grade, a momentous occasion that was documented in a note from her to me in my baby book which reads something like
"I am exited for you to spin the night with me. My dad will make us waffuls in the morning"
Not only did he make us "waffuls", but Mr. Howson spent the next several years switching mornings with my father, carpooling us to school each morning. It was here that he gave me the nickname "Miss Mellow" for the way I sauntered to the car each morning, no doubt taking my time so that all could admire my latest outfit. This was truly a term of endearment, always said with his trademark smile...despite the fact that lawyers bill by the hour and no telling how much my posturing cost him.
Walker and I have talked a lot in recent years how lucky we were growing up. It was a given that her dad would make us waffles, my dad would get us Happy Meals, and our mother's would take us wherever we wanted to go. It was an idyllic childhood.
One of the hardest parts for me after we lost Rip was the loss of my innocence. It was like all of the sudden all of the scary, horrible things that I knew about but I didn't know about were all a little too close for comfort.
But how lucky were we to have that innocence in the first place? I look back now, especially now that we are grown and married and having children of our own, and realize how much effort our parents must have put into giving that to us. I am sure there were so many stressful times in their lives and yet we were shielded from all of it, how lucky we are to be loved like that.
I am sad for Walker and her family today, sad that they have lost such a wonderful man and a wonderful father. I am also so thankful that we were all lucky enough to have known him.
Thank you for being part of such a wonderful time in my life, Mr. Howson. Make my boy a waffle for me.
Love Always,
Miss Mellow
My childhood best friend, Walker, lost her father earlier this afternoon. Art Howson was a really good at a lot of things, but he was first and foremost a really good dad. Plenty of Walker's friends could write about Art...or Mr. Howson as he was known to me...better than I can in recent years, but the memories I have are from living right up the street for a majority of my time at home.
Walker and I became best friends somewhere around the first or second grade, a momentous occasion that was documented in a note from her to me in my baby book which reads something like
"I am exited for you to spin the night with me. My dad will make us waffuls in the morning"
Not only did he make us "waffuls", but Mr. Howson spent the next several years switching mornings with my father, carpooling us to school each morning. It was here that he gave me the nickname "Miss Mellow" for the way I sauntered to the car each morning, no doubt taking my time so that all could admire my latest outfit. This was truly a term of endearment, always said with his trademark smile...despite the fact that lawyers bill by the hour and no telling how much my posturing cost him.
Walker and I have talked a lot in recent years how lucky we were growing up. It was a given that her dad would make us waffles, my dad would get us Happy Meals, and our mother's would take us wherever we wanted to go. It was an idyllic childhood.
One of the hardest parts for me after we lost Rip was the loss of my innocence. It was like all of the sudden all of the scary, horrible things that I knew about but I didn't know about were all a little too close for comfort.
But how lucky were we to have that innocence in the first place? I look back now, especially now that we are grown and married and having children of our own, and realize how much effort our parents must have put into giving that to us. I am sure there were so many stressful times in their lives and yet we were shielded from all of it, how lucky we are to be loved like that.
I am sad for Walker and her family today, sad that they have lost such a wonderful man and a wonderful father. I am also so thankful that we were all lucky enough to have known him.
Thank you for being part of such a wonderful time in my life, Mr. Howson. Make my boy a waffle for me.
Love Always,
Miss Mellow
Saturday, January 26, 2013
Friday, January 25, 2013
The Trick Of It
I've been having a hard time writing lately, at least on this blog.
In trying to figure out why, I think in part it is because that where I am right now is hard to put in to words. After Rip died, I wrote about loss and sadness and the desire to have another baby. When I got pregnant again, I wrote about how scared and excited I was and how much I still missed my boy. And then when Gracie finally arrived, there was so much joy and relief...with a different level of missing Rip.
Now...well, what do I write about now?
I still think about Rip every single day. I miss him, a lot. I think about what he would be doing, or look like now. I think probably a lot like a boy version of Gracie (ie Mama-visioned cutest baby ever). Yesterday was an eleven eleven day...I saw it everywhere, all of the time. I still feel him, I still talk to him.
I breathed a huge sigh of relief when Gracie turned one. Before I was even pregnant with her, my doctor told me I would probably be afraid for the first year of my next child's life and she was right. Somehow, deep down it was like I couldn't quite believe she was mine until we hit that one year mark. Don't get me wrong, I still worry way more than I think most "normal" moms do...but it is getting much, much better.
I also think a lot about how lucky I am. I have friends who have lost babies and are still waiting to hold a child in their arms. There is not a night that I put Gracie to bed that I don't thank God for the mere fact of her. The solid weight of her body breathing into my neck is the only drug I will ever need (but I won't turn down a glass of wine, just to be on the safe side).
I guess part of me feels in limbo...for the last two years there has always been a next step to the grieving process, a goal in mind. Now, even though a million different things will change until the day I die, now is the part where I move forward and Rip's death comes with me as it is.
I guess it all really comes back to not wanting his story to end, wanting his life to mean something more "the baby we lost". And I know it has, so many people have told me that Rip's story meant something to them and that truly makes all of the difference in the world.
I think the trick now is how to move forward in a way that is healthy for Gracie, for me and for Parke, and also in a way that honors Rip and keeps him a celebrated part of our family. It's not easy, but I've always been one who believes in magic.
In trying to figure out why, I think in part it is because that where I am right now is hard to put in to words. After Rip died, I wrote about loss and sadness and the desire to have another baby. When I got pregnant again, I wrote about how scared and excited I was and how much I still missed my boy. And then when Gracie finally arrived, there was so much joy and relief...with a different level of missing Rip.
Now...well, what do I write about now?
I still think about Rip every single day. I miss him, a lot. I think about what he would be doing, or look like now. I think probably a lot like a boy version of Gracie (ie Mama-visioned cutest baby ever). Yesterday was an eleven eleven day...I saw it everywhere, all of the time. I still feel him, I still talk to him.
I breathed a huge sigh of relief when Gracie turned one. Before I was even pregnant with her, my doctor told me I would probably be afraid for the first year of my next child's life and she was right. Somehow, deep down it was like I couldn't quite believe she was mine until we hit that one year mark. Don't get me wrong, I still worry way more than I think most "normal" moms do...but it is getting much, much better.
I also think a lot about how lucky I am. I have friends who have lost babies and are still waiting to hold a child in their arms. There is not a night that I put Gracie to bed that I don't thank God for the mere fact of her. The solid weight of her body breathing into my neck is the only drug I will ever need (but I won't turn down a glass of wine, just to be on the safe side).
I guess part of me feels in limbo...for the last two years there has always been a next step to the grieving process, a goal in mind. Now, even though a million different things will change until the day I die, now is the part where I move forward and Rip's death comes with me as it is.
I guess it all really comes back to not wanting his story to end, wanting his life to mean something more "the baby we lost". And I know it has, so many people have told me that Rip's story meant something to them and that truly makes all of the difference in the world.
I think the trick now is how to move forward in a way that is healthy for Gracie, for me and for Parke, and also in a way that honors Rip and keeps him a celebrated part of our family. It's not easy, but I've always been one who believes in magic.
Tuesday, January 22, 2013
Captured
Caught: Rare Spaghetti-Faced Pouty Pot
Likes: Late night scream fests, kitty-cats, anything sweet, going for walks, bananas, and (you guessed it)...spaghetti
Dislikes: Being told no
WARNING: Provoking RSFPP by sticking anything through the protective barrier may result in injury
Monday, January 21, 2013
Girl Power
I, like way too many women I know, have always suffered from a lack of self-esteem.
I'm not entirely sure why (clearly I am very funny and smart...ha.ha.ha.) but throw me into a situation that is new or where I am not sure what to do and my automatic response is to tell myself no. Not consciously, but my subconscious is throwing it's obnoxious little self around saying "no no no, you won't be able to do this! You can't handle this! There's no WAYYYYYY!!!!!!"
You know the one area where I don't seem to have this issue? Being a mom.
Don't get me wrong, I doubt myself all of the time as a mother...I just know that, for Gracie and Rip, I am literally the only person for the job. I'm it, and when it comes time for a decision to be made, I'd better make it and make it quick.
I've been wondering lately why I have such a hard time, or why I give myself such a hard time, carrying that confidence over into the rest of my life?
Is anything anyone is going to ask me to do harder than what I have already done? Is anyone going to ask me to have a really rare condition, sit in the hospital for six weeks, lose my firstborn, have another (at times) even scarier pregnancy, have a complicated c-section, all of which resulted in a beautiful baby girl? Let's all just pray to the Good Lord Jesus the answer is no, you may find me curled in a ball somewhere if so.
But truly, most people (women especially) just deal with the really hard stuff when it comes, and then worry themselves to pieces over the small stuff. Why is that?
I don't have the answer, it's just something I've been thinking about. This concludes my Girl Power vent of the day.
I'm not entirely sure why (clearly I am very funny and smart...ha.ha.ha.) but throw me into a situation that is new or where I am not sure what to do and my automatic response is to tell myself no. Not consciously, but my subconscious is throwing it's obnoxious little self around saying "no no no, you won't be able to do this! You can't handle this! There's no WAYYYYYY!!!!!!"
You know the one area where I don't seem to have this issue? Being a mom.
Don't get me wrong, I doubt myself all of the time as a mother...I just know that, for Gracie and Rip, I am literally the only person for the job. I'm it, and when it comes time for a decision to be made, I'd better make it and make it quick.
I've been wondering lately why I have such a hard time, or why I give myself such a hard time, carrying that confidence over into the rest of my life?
Is anything anyone is going to ask me to do harder than what I have already done? Is anyone going to ask me to have a really rare condition, sit in the hospital for six weeks, lose my firstborn, have another (at times) even scarier pregnancy, have a complicated c-section, all of which resulted in a beautiful baby girl? Let's all just pray to the Good Lord Jesus the answer is no, you may find me curled in a ball somewhere if so.
But truly, most people (women especially) just deal with the really hard stuff when it comes, and then worry themselves to pieces over the small stuff. Why is that?
I don't have the answer, it's just something I've been thinking about. This concludes my Girl Power vent of the day.
Sunday, January 13, 2013
Trot Trot, Trot Trot
I am terrible with change. While I am sure that losing Rip didn't help this little...we will call it a quirk, it's probably more like a character flaw...of mine, he is probably up in Heaven right now shaking his head "un uh Mama, you ain't pinning this one on me!" And it's true, I've always been this way.
And recently, there have been a lot of changes, good and bad. I left a job where I genuinely liked the people I worked with but wasn't being challenged and was spending too many hours away from my family. But it was also the job I was in when I had both of my children. I knew exactly where I was standing when this and this happened when I was pregnant with Rip and now I'm not there and it's different. Have I mentioned I don't deal well with different?
I started a new job, a job I truly think will be better for me with good people and the potential to have more flexibility. But starting a new job is stressful, until you get the hang of things you are just sitting there trying not to look or act a fool (maybe this is just me?) And these people don't know me...not the last two years me anyway...and that always makes me feel on edge. Maybe some would say that your personal life doesn't need to spill into your work life, and they are probably right. They also probably aren't the type to have a blog and blab their innermost feelings all over the world wide web. Just saying.
Just to add to the chaos, my car has been in the shop for 5 weeks. Yes, that's right, 5 weeks. Up until the new job, I really didn't need a car during the day, so we have been carpooling. I love the environment as much as the next girl, but I love my husband more and let me just say that our marriage is not cut out for a one car family. Five full weeks of driving around in a very small car with Parke, Gracie, our 100 lb chocolate lab, and the full month's collection of Parke's coffee cups have left me the teensiest bit on edge. Thank the Good Lord Jesus that my nice, clean SUV that I can take anywhere I darn well please anytime I darn well please will be home this week.
So, these among other, smaller changes have left me a tad unsettled. If by unsettled we are talking prone to emotional breakdowns and tension headaches and loved ones ducking for cover. And I haven't been writing, which I think makes things worse for me (and aforementioned loved ones). So this is my "getting back on the horse" post.
Back soon with Gracie updates (small teaser: not walking, started hitting...big fun) and various other matters of national importance.
And recently, there have been a lot of changes, good and bad. I left a job where I genuinely liked the people I worked with but wasn't being challenged and was spending too many hours away from my family. But it was also the job I was in when I had both of my children. I knew exactly where I was standing when this and this happened when I was pregnant with Rip and now I'm not there and it's different. Have I mentioned I don't deal well with different?
I started a new job, a job I truly think will be better for me with good people and the potential to have more flexibility. But starting a new job is stressful, until you get the hang of things you are just sitting there trying not to look or act a fool (maybe this is just me?) And these people don't know me...not the last two years me anyway...and that always makes me feel on edge. Maybe some would say that your personal life doesn't need to spill into your work life, and they are probably right. They also probably aren't the type to have a blog and blab their innermost feelings all over the world wide web. Just saying.
Just to add to the chaos, my car has been in the shop for 5 weeks. Yes, that's right, 5 weeks. Up until the new job, I really didn't need a car during the day, so we have been carpooling. I love the environment as much as the next girl, but I love my husband more and let me just say that our marriage is not cut out for a one car family. Five full weeks of driving around in a very small car with Parke, Gracie, our 100 lb chocolate lab, and the full month's collection of Parke's coffee cups have left me the teensiest bit on edge. Thank the Good Lord Jesus that my nice, clean SUV that I can take anywhere I darn well please anytime I darn well please will be home this week.
So, these among other, smaller changes have left me a tad unsettled. If by unsettled we are talking prone to emotional breakdowns and tension headaches and loved ones ducking for cover. And I haven't been writing, which I think makes things worse for me (and aforementioned loved ones). So this is my "getting back on the horse" post.
Back soon with Gracie updates (small teaser: not walking, started hitting...big fun) and various other matters of national importance.
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