Twenty-Three Months

I can't believe we are only one month away from the big two.  It's incredible how quickly time passes.  Geez...instant tears.  I guess it doesn't help that we sat tonight and watched our home videos from last Christmas.  Punky was so...little.  What a difference a year makes.

The big news this month happened just two days ago.  We were delayed in heading home for the holiday weekend due to illness (yes, that post is still to come) and, when we finally made it out the door Friday afternoon, we decided to try something new:  forward-facing!

My goal was to keep her rear-facing until age two.  One month and two days shy, but close enough I suppose.  She still only weighs about 22-1/2 pounds so I can't say I'm totally comfortable with the decision.  But there is no turning back now.  She loved it.

We only went one block when we stopped at a stop sign and I turned around to take her picture.  She was so excited...waving her hands and yelling, "Forwards! Mama! Forwards!"  We were in her dad's truck so she had a great view of the sights and narrated most of the trip.

First Ride Forward-Facing

"Big truck!"

"Green light! Go, go, go!"

"Red light! Stop!"

"Cars, Mama! Trees! Lights! Sky!"

"Mama! Mama! Mama!" she'd yell and I'd turn around to look at her.  She'd wave and say "Hi Mama! Forwards!"

Thankfully she did manage to fall asleep for about an hour so we could hear the radio and actually have a conversation.  She is in full chatterbox mode now.  It's constant.  If she's awake, she's yapping.  New words and phrases are still appearing daily.  I've heard a few five and six words sentences.  It still blows my mind how quickly she is learning the art of communication.  She surprises me every day.

This month she has finally mastered the spoon...messy food and all.  The hardest part about the spoon is having to hold it level.  She's easily distracted and would lose a lot on the way to her mouth.  Or she'd forget about the spoon entirely and point to something, spoon in hand, and fling food across the room.  Now she makes it most of the time with little effort.  Stuff still flies once in a while, but not accidentally.  Little stinker.

She eats most meals in her booster seat at the table now.  We still use the highchair in the kitchen for really messy stuff, but her favorite spot to eat is sitting on the stool at the counter like a big girl.  That's usually the breakfast spot.  I guess the highchair's days are numbered.  I'm still resisting.

All in all, Punky is doing well. She's everything I thought she'd be at this age.  She's smart.  And funny.  Loving and sweet.  She's curious.  And happy.  With a touch of a stubborn streak and some temper tantrums thrown in here and there.  She's perfect.  

Absolutely perfect.  

Thankful

In preparation for putting up the tree, our living room needed a major overhaul.  Most of Punky's toys are in there and, despite the various boxes, bins, tables, and shelves designated for toy storage, they usually end up scattered all over the room.  A colleague of mine once mentioned that she keeps her boys' toy levels in check by asking them to donate an old toy to charity every time they receive a new toy.  What a brilliant idea.

I always tell Punky how lucky we are because I want her to grow up appreciating what she does have instead of focusing on what she doesn't.  We may not have the best of everything but we have food to eat, a warm house, toys to play with, and a little bit of extra money to do something special now and then. That's more than a lot of people can say these days.

Last Friday night, Punky and I sat on the floor in front of her toy box and had a heart-to-heart chat.  I told her that Santa will be bringing her new toys soon, so maybe it's time to go through her old toys and give some to little kids that aren't as lucky as she is, etc.  I know she didn't understand my entire speech, it's just not possible, but she helped me sort her toys into piles based on what she still plays with and things she never touches.

I set aside a few special baby toys to keep, of course, but the rest of the rattles and such simply had to go.  Honestly, they should have gone a year ago.  Together we picked out several more toys to give away and I wondered if she understood that she wouldn't ever see them again.

When we finished sorting, we put all the keepers back into the toy box and loaded the rest into bags.  I held the bag open while Punky stuffed things in without showing any hint of sadness whatsoever.  The last toy destined for the bag was a cute little bear that plays music and says simple phrases.  She hesitated for a second but grabbed him off the couch.  She held him in front of her, looked him in the eye, gave him a kiss, and said, "Bye-bye, bear." 

Then she stuffed him in the bag and asked to watch an Elmo video.

I wiped the tears from my eyes as I started the DVD and bent down to kiss her beautiful little face.  For her, I am most thankful.

Happy Thanksgiving to all.

Punky's Impeccable Timing

We decided to grab a quick dinner at the local diner tonight and Punky had a shining moment in the process: she embarrassed both of her parents, at the same time, in public...and she's not even two.  I guess it was bound to happen sooner or later...

We've all been sick for what seems like forever, but that's another post entirely and believe me it's coming...one extremely long, rant and rave, bitch and moan, grunt and groan post will follow in the days to come.  Just warning you.  Anyway, like all kids eventually do, Punky recently discovered nose picking.  I suppose being sick and stuffed up presented the perfect opportunity to learn the skill.  She has almost perfected it to an art form.  She can do just about anything one-handed while the other digs for gold.  And once in a while, she strikes some.

There we were, sitting in the restaurant, and just as the waitress headed over to take our order...Punky's finger took the plunge.  That in itself would have been embarrassing enough, but it turned out to be a lucky pick and her finger reappeared with a little something gross on the end of it.  Just to add insult to injury, Punky felt the need to hold her finger up and announce to everyone in earshot what she had.

"Boogie! Mommy! Boogie! Daddy! Boogie! Finger!" she yelled as she swung her finger back and forth between us to show off her treasure.

Punky's dad and I locked eyes for a split second and shared in the horror of the moment.  I could hear the muffled chuckles in the background as complete strangers enjoyed our humiliation.  The teenage waitress stood there patiently while I scrambled for a napkin and cleaned the tip of Punky's finger, but the look on her face seemed to score one for abstinence.

I know, it's only the beginning...

Consider 'Em Decked

The halls, that is.  As decked as they are getting this year anyway.  And I'm happy as a lark to cross something off that damn to-do list.
 
We are traveling home this coming weekend for Thanksgiving so I wanted to get all that decorating crap done and out of the way before the real holiday rush hits in December.  And besides, I was excited to see Punky's reaction to the tree this year.  She loves it, but I think we'll have to set our sights a little higher/bigger next year.  Our four-foot table top tree will seem less and less impressive the bigger she gets.

Right now for us it is simply a space issue.  We have no room to store huge boxes of tree branches and decorations.  Without a basement, attic, or garage, we are severly limited in how much hall decking we can do...or else we would need to leave it displayed all year for lack of a place to put it.

Anyway, our little tree will serve the purpose again this year.  Punky can just reach the very bottom branches...and for how often she tugs them, it's really a good thing we don't have a full-size tree.  One time I caught her standing on her tippy-toes, stretching as high as she could to reach a glass ball with her fingertips, and batting it around like a cat with a mouse. 

Punky learned early on that balls...bounce.  So far I haven't had much luck trying to reverse that mindset when it comes to glass ornaments.  I've explained it to the best of my abilities, multiple times, but I know she'd whiz one across the room to test my theory if given the opportunity.  Needless to say, all of our antique, blown glass balls will remain safely displayed in a bowl this year.  The tree is sporting dime-a-dozen cheapies, but I still don't want them smashed all over the living room.

She seems to have caught on rather quickly to the concept of Santa.  She recognizes him and understands that he brings new toys to good girls and boys.  We are going to attempt a picture with Santa next weekend so I've been trying to make her as comfortable with the idea as I can.  She seems genuinely excited that Santa will be coming to her house with presents.  Poor kid, this next month will seem like an eternity I'm sure.

Lights! Broken!

Punky and I went home for my nephew's fifth birthday party two weeks ago.  We drove down Friday and stayed until Tuesday.  We hadn't been home since Labor Day weekend so I took a few days off work so we could visit a bit longer.

My nephew's party went off just as you'd expect any five year old's birthday to go.  Screaming kids running around the house in circles, a mound of presents ripped open in five minutes flat, and little faces all sticky from cake and ice cream.  

The birthday boy insisted on a Batman party, complete with Batman balloons, decorations, and of course a Batman cake.  He also hoped all of his presents were Batman-related which is no easy task these days.  It seems like Batman has taken a back seat to Spiderman and Iron Man.  Their stuff is all over the place; Batman toys require much more searching.  Anyway, he did get a lot of Batman things, from pajamas to hats, toys and video games, activity books and t-shirts.  He was happy.

Thankfully most party guests were gone by about 4:30...because at 5:00 the power went out.  And stayed out for just over two hours.  At first, Punky was very confused.

We had a few power outages at our house this summer, but they all happened during daylight hours and only lasted a short time.  So, Punky really didn't notice.  It wasn't a big deal.  There was no need for explanation and she probably wouldn't have understood anyway.

This time was different.  We were all suddenly sitting in the dark.  My sister's boyfriend hunted for flashlights and scrambled to put a fire in the fire place for both light and heat.  After a few minutes, Punky looked at me with an expression I clearly read as, "What the hell, Mama?"  

I told her the lights were broken.  The lights were off, and we couldn't turn them on until the power man came to fix them.  She thought about it for a few seconds then flashed me an "I get it!" smile. 

Then she proceeded to explain it to everyone else.  Repeatedly.  For the next forty-five minutes or so.  Non stop.  Like the town crier in the old days.

"Mama?"

"What, honey..."

"Lights!" she'd yell while simultaneously throwing her arm up and pointing at the ceiling fan.

"What about the lights, sweetie..."

"Broken..." she'd say in the saddest tone you can imagine, complete with an accompanying pout.

Then she'd move on to the next person.

"Grammy?"  And the whole conversation would repeat itself.

By the time she was on her third trip around the room, we couldn't hold back the laughter.  It was almost like she had a true Eureka! moment and felt she needed to bring the rest of us into the know.  She was relentless.  And there was no ignoring her.  My nephew was the first to try it but she just stood next to him and yelled his name over and over until he finally caved and yelled, "What?"

She eventually got over it...possibly because we were all laughing too hard to answer her anymore...but she still hasn't forgotten it.  Any time I mention my nephew's party or my sister's name, she reminds me that the lights were broken.  It left a lasting impression on her, that's for sure.  It was big news in her little world.  I'm sure we'll end up in the dark at some point this winter and she'll explain it to me again.  And to everyone else who cares to listen.

Peas, Tanks, and Malcolm

I've got an extremely polite child.

I have no idea how the hell that happened.

Punky can be so sweet these days.  She's mastered the proper use of phrases known for getting her what she wants, when she wants it.  She still needs some tweaking in the pronunciation department, but the message comes across loud and clear.

"Punky, would you like some juice?" I say and walk into the kitchen.

"Yes! Peas!" she yells excitedly and runs after me.  "Tanks!" she chirps when I had her the cup.

"You're welcome, sweetie." 

"Malcolm," she repeats after me.  "Mama's Malcolm too!"

Contest Schmontest

It's official.  We suck.

Week seven of the trivia/riddle contest started today.  I think it's safe to say we're out of the running for the million.  Just as I suspected, I've had nowhere near the free time needed to do the level of research required.  By comparing our answers and points against others in the forums, we've missed quite a few so far.  Some were ridiculous wild guesses that others were lucky enough to make correctly, and some were so damn obvious that I could just kick myself in the ass for missing them.

I plan to stick it out till the end, but I have accepted defeat nonetheless.  Sigh.  Maybe in a few years they'll have another one.  When Punky is older.  When work is less hectic.  When life is less crazy.  Around 2018 sounds like a good time.

I'm starting to wonder if I just suck at time management.  I've always thought of myself as organized.  Efficient.  On top of things.  These days it seems like my to-do list keeps growing and growing.  For every item I manage to cross off, six more suddenly appear.  I don't know how others do it.  Between work, Punky, household chores, and whatever personal hygeine I can sneak in, there really isn't a lot of time left over for much.  My recent lapse in blogging confirms that.

I know, it will get better.  I guess I'm just feeling a bit overwhelmed with the holidays approaching and all the crap that needs to get done between now and then.  Seems like I throw myself this same pity-party every year around this time.  I need to get it out of my system.  I need to whine.  Moan.  Groan.  Complain.  It clears my head so I can re-organize and get shit done.

Okay.  There.  I'm over it.  See how quick and relatively painless that bitch session was?  Look out to-do list, here I come!

Right after I finish eating my lunch.  And work another four hours.  And drive thirty-five minutes home plus a quick stop for gas on the way.  And make dinner.  And do the dishes.  And give Punky a bath.  And then play with her, of course.  And get her ready for bed.  And get me ready for bed.  And run around picking up all the toys that ended up scattered all over the house.  And set the coffee up for the morning.

Then, to-do list, your ass is mine...for about fifteen minutes before I say screw it, I'm tired, and tomorrow's another day.

Halloween, Finally

The middle of the month already and I haven't written a thing.  This has to be by far the longest stretch I've gone without posting.  While I could type a list of excuses a mile long, let's just say life's been happening and I'll do my best to play catch-up when I can.  So, Halloween...

We took Punky to the mall for trick-or-treating.  It seemed like a great idea.  Early evening.  Safe.  Warm.  And the first twenty minutes were great.  Then, in the blink of an eye, kids seemed to spew from every crack and crevice.  It was a sea of super heroes, princesses, clowns, and cartoon characters.  A continuous chain of kids lined the perimeter of the mall, all waiting to reach the one person in front of each store handing out pieces of candy.  And store coupons.  And garage band CD's - yes, seriously, Punky got one.

It didn't take long for the calm, safe, warm environment to morph into a noisy, chaotic scene.  And damn, was it hot in there.  Some kids were whining, some were yelling, and some had complete meltdowns.  Parents were cranky and losing their patience.  Stores were quickly running out of candy.  It took forever to make our way back to the entrance where we started so we could get the hell out of there.

While it wasn't an overwhelmingly pleasant experience for us, Punky seemed to enjoy it.  She insisted on wearing her Elmo costume the entire ride in the car...thirty five minutes each way.  She toted her plastic pumpkin and held it up to receive her treats.  She liked seeing all the different costumes, though the scary ones freaked her out a bit.  She ate a few pieces of candy but didn't seem all that impressed and she hasn't asked to have any more.  That's definitely not a bad thing.

We made it home from the mall just in time to turn on the porch light and welcome trick-or-treaters.  Over the course of the next two hours, a whopping eight kids popped in for some candy.  Well, we beat last year's total by one.  A big bowl of leftover candy sits on the kitchen counter.  We'll continue to pick through the good stuff little by little and end up tossing the rest.

It's no secret that I'm not a fan of Halloween and it's apparent in the tone of this post.  So, for Punky's sake, I have to end on a high note.  Here's a shot of my little red monster making the rounds at the mall.  She was so proud to be Elmo, and she couldn't have been more adorable.