Christmas Confusion

This is the first year that Babykins really gets the idea of Christmas.  She knows that Santa will bring presents, and she made a special request for a scooter.  Every morning when she wakes up, the first thing she wants to do is add a piece to the advent calendar.  And she is now able to sing a good selection of Christmas carols.

But in true toddler fashion, she still finds a few Christmas concepts a little hard to grasp.

Last weekend, we went to Carols in the Park in the park across the street from our house.  There was a barbecue followed by Christmas carols.  In between the Christmas carols, a puppet would pop up, and the pastor would use the puppet to talk about the meaning of Christmas.  One of the things they talked about was how Christmas is Jesus' birthday.  That idea really stuck with Babykins.  Later that week, I mentioned to Babykins that we needed to get a present for her to give to Babyroo for Christmas.  She looked at me and responded, "I can't give a present to Babyroo!  It's Jesus' birthday!  Only Jesus gets presents!"

Interesting.  So I responded, "Does that mean Santa shouldn't bring you any presents, either?"

"No!  I can still get presents!"

Ahh...

Then on Thursday, Babykins had her Christmas concert at daycare.  After watching a roomful of toddlers sing songs and shake bells (absolutely adorable), we had morning tea followed by a visit from Santa.  When Santa appeared, the look on Babykins' face was priceless.  Each child was called up to meet Santa and received a bag of candy.

Babykins came running over to me holding up her bag of candy.  She was super excited, and she immediately recounted for me how Santa had rung his bells and gave her a present.  Then she stopped and informed me, "Santa gave me candy, but I didn't get a scooter!"

Oh, no.  I quickly explained to Babykins that Santa only gave presents like scooters on Christmas.  Before Christmas, he only gave out candy.  Thus reassured, Babykins commenced to tell me about Santa's visit the entire walk home (a 20 minute trip, by the way - it's amazing how many times a toddler can re-tell the same story when they're excited).

I can't wait for Christmas to come.  Knowing how excited Babykins is for the day has re-kindled my own excitement for the joys of Christmas.

Gender Norms

Recently, Babykins and I were talking about work, when she comes out with this statement, "Boys go to work.  Girls don't go to work."  Oh, no.

Now, I have spent 11/2 of the last 2 1/2 years as a stay-at-home mom.  Which means that although I have been home with Babykins a lot, she has seen me go to work.  But apparently this hasn't quite left its mark, so I quickly correct her, explaining that BOTH men and women can go to work.  I remind her that I have worked, and will go back to work when Babyroo is older.

Anti-feminist crisis averted.

Until Friday, when, on the way home from daycare, Babykins suddenly announces from the back of the car, "Boys go to school.  Girls don't go to school."  WHAT?!  Who is putting these ideas in my toddler's head?  It's not like we live in some scary country where girls are banned from education.  I once again correct her, assuring her that both boys AND girls go to school.

Then, over the weekend, we're getting ready for bath time, and Babykins tells me she has to go to the bathroom.  She walks over to the toilet and stands facing it.  "Mommy, boys do wee-wee like this."  Then she turns around and sits down.  "And girls do wee-wee like this."

Finally, a boys vs. girls statement I can agree with.

Permission

Recently, I've seen quite a few people post a link to a blog entry titled, "Why You're Never Failing as a Mother."  The basic point of the post is that you're doing a good job and there's no need to be perfect, so give yourself a break.

It got me to thinking about all of the things that have happened to me as a parent that I was surprised/confused/felt guilty/annoyed about.  Things I usually didn't want to admit to the other mommies at playgroup who seemed to have it all together.  Things that, when I did mention them to another woman, she had also experienced.

So here, as a follow-on to that other blog, is my list of:

5 Things I Hereby Officially Give You Permission To Do:

1. Cry - When you're waking up to a screaming baby for the 5th time in one night...when you're cleaning up pee from the carpet for the third time TODAY...when both kids are crying and screaming at once and you need to triage which to attend to first...when you're hungry, need to pee, teeth aren't brushed, house is a mess, food's burning on the stove, and you look over just in time to see your toddler take a bite out of your brand new lipstick (why do they do this, Lord, WHY?)...go ahead and cry.  You'll feel better.
2. Turn on the TV - There are parents out there who somehow manage to raise their children without letting them watch TV.  I am not one of them.  Turning on Mickey Mouse Clubhouse is the only way I am guaranteed 20 minutes each day where my 2 year-old will sit on the sofa without moving so that I can take a shower.  Thank you, Mickey, thank you.
3. Compare yourself to other moms - My hair is in a ponytail every day.  And not just any ponytail...a wet ponytail.  Mickey Mouse Clubhouse only lasts 20 minutes, after all.  I felt bad about this.  I thought the other moms looked like they were much more put together than me.  Then one day, I reallllly looked at the other moms.  And I realized an amazing thing.  80% of them had their hair in a ponytail.  Most of them had dark circles under their eyes.  Some of them weren't wearing makeup.  And the majority of them still had some baby weight to lose.  At quick glance we see what we expect to see....which is usually that others are doing a better job than we are.  But when you look closely, you see that most moms are in the same boat.
4. Give them a vitamin - Most days, Babykins has 3 major food groups: fruit, dairy, and cereal.  On a good day, I can get her to eat a sausage or some chicken nuggets.  I worry.  I fret.  I bribe, cajole, and plead.  And then I remember this sage advice my pediatrician gave my mom when I was a picky little kid, "Is she growing?  Then she's fine.  Give her a vitamin and stop worrying."
5. Pretend not to hear the kids wake up on Saturday morning, in the hopes that your partner will get out of bed first, and you can sleep for 5 more minutes.

There you go.  Permission granted.  Enjoy.

Boast Post

Let me be upfront - this post is designed for no other reason than to let me brag about my genius Babykins.  She is now 2 1/2 years old.

So the other day I'm sitting at the table doing some work while Babykins is "writing" with a pen on a piece of big cardboard in the kitchen.  I can hear her talking and singing to herself, but I'm not listening very closely....until I hear some letters, and my ears perk up.

I hear an "S."  I listen closer.  Then an "o."  I'm even more focused.  And as I continue to listen in amazement, I realize that Babykins has just correctly spelled her name!  She has been over there this whole time pretending to write her name, and although she can't actually form the letters, she knows what they are.

My daughter is a genius.  Feel free to be jealous.

Ok.  Enough bragging...for today...

Baby Terms: US vs. Australia

Although they speak English in Australia, it's not US English - which is confusing.  So for the uninitiated, here is a short guide to US vs. Australia baby terms:

Diaper = Nappy
Stroller = Pram
Baby = Bub
Nurse = Breastfeed
Cuddle = Nurse
Pacifier = Dummy

And, the word "heiney" doesn't exist here.

I hereby officially declare you fluent in a second language!

I confess...

...that I will wait to eat the yummiest foods until Babykins isn't in the room.

I further confess that I tell myself this is to keep Babykins from eating too much junk food...but really I just don't want to share.

I'm a bad, bad mommy.

My new favorite phrases

The older Babykins gets, the more she busts out some cute phrases.

A few months ago, she started using these gems:

(Whenever something didn't go as planned): Oh, man.
(When she wanted to watch her video, and thought a cute approach would help her cause): How about (clap) Mary Poppins!
(If Hubbykins or I hurt ourselves): You alright there?
(Always a favorite): I love you SO much.
(Pointing to my pregnant tummy): Shhh...baby's sleeping.

Lately, though, I've been hearing Babykins parroting back things I say to her on a regular basis:

(When we give her two choices, and she's not sure she likes either one): Let's talk about this.
(When I try to hurry her along during a rambling explanation): You need to be patient when I tell you something, Mama.
(When she doesn't want to stop playing to do what I've asked of her): Just wait one minute.
(And, one of my favorites, her version of "because"): Somecause
(When I tell her not to do something, but she plans on doing it anyway): I just be careful.

If nothing else, I've learned to watch what I say around a 2 1/2 year-old...

Grizzle Bear

Babyroo is the noisiest sleeper ever.  He doesn't just lie quietly while he sleeps.  He squirms.  He grunts.  He groans.  He growls.  I was trying to explain this to the nurse, and the only word I could think of to describe his behavior was "rootch."  I knew there was no way she would know what that word meant, and I was too tired to think of a way to translate it, so she unfortunately didn't understand the full breadth of noisiness I was trying to describe.

A couple days later I was reading some baby literature and came across the word "grizzle."  It was the absolute perfect word to describe Babyroo's behavior!  Since then, he has officially become our Grizzle Bear.  In the last 5 weeks, I have come to figure out a rough pattern of what his grunts and growls stand for.  I wish I could show you a pie chart, but since I can't, here's the bullet point breakdown:

• 50% of the time: I'm trying to fart/poop
• 20% of the time: Now that I've cleared out space, I want to nurse
• 20% of the time: Now that I've nursed, I need to spit up
• 10% of the time: I don't need anything, I just don't want those big people in the bed next to me to sleep

Mission accomplished, Babyroo, mission accomplished.

Things you don't want to hear

Most parents will agree that the top 2 things you don't want to hear from your kids are:
1) a sudden, unexplained shriek from the room where your kids are playing, and
2) (perhaps even more concerning) a sudden, unexplained silence from the room where your kids are playing.

This week, I added a third thing to the list.  Babykins, Babyroo, and I were all in the bedroom together. Babykins was coloring, and Babyroo was lying on the bed looking out the window.  Babyroo had started to fuss a bit, so I quick ran to another room to get my nursing pillow.  While I was gone (for all of 30 seconds) the fussing turned into full crying.  At which point I hear Babykins call, "Don't worry, Mama!  I'll pick him up!"  Post-partum healing be damned, I yelled out, "No!" and sprinted into that room.

Luckily, Babykins had changed tactics and had her finger in Babyroo's mouth, hoping he would start to suck on it.  He wasn't thrilled, but it was quite possibly the best thing I'd seen all day.  What a good helper.

Mama and Babykins discuss ballet classes

Babykins likes to dance.  Anytime music comes on, whether it's real music, a TV theme show, or someone singing, Babykins breaks out in dance.  And I'm not just talking about little kid, bouncing around dancing.  Babykins twists her legs, shakes her booty, and throws her arms in the air.

Hubbykins and I decided it might be time to start Babykins in some dance classes.  I found a local dance school that takes 2 1/2 year-olds and was excited to tell Babykins about this great new opportunity.

Me: Babykins, would you like to take dance classes?
Babykins: What's that?
Me: That's where you go to a special school with other little girls and a teacher shows you how to dance.
Babykins: I don't want to go to dance class.
Me (surprised): Why not?
Babykins: I already know how to dance!  I dance beautifully!

At least we know we've instilled a healthy (or excessive?) dose of self confidence in her...

Fashionisto

Ok, so I'm not completely sure that "fashionisto" is a word, but I've come to realize that's what my 3-week-old baby boy is.  At first, I thought his clothes were getting dirty so often just because he's a baby, and babies get their clothes dirty.  But then I realized he's spitting up and peeing on his clothes on purpose, so that he has an excuse to wear and show off multiple cute outfits a day!  I'm on to you Babyroo...

Who Needs Sleep?

Although the verses don't really apply, I dedicate the chorus of this song to everyone who has, or has ever had, a newborn who doesn't sleep...

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=K4pqqzFWedc

(Not So) Stick Figures

This actually happened before Babyroo was born.

Although I got the feeling Babykins didn't really remember me pre-pregnancy, she was definitely well aware of my large belly.  One day when I was 8 months pregnant, we were sitting outside doing chalk drawings, when I started to draw our family in stick figures.

I started with Babykins.  She got curly hair as her distinguishing feature.  Next, I moved on to Hubbykins.  Babykins informed me I had to draw him bigger than the Babykins figure.  Yes, we have a very smart toddler.  As I was drawing Hubbykins' arms, Babykins requested that I draw them so their stick figures were holding hands.  She's also a very sweet toddler.  Last, I moved on to drawing myself.  I was almost done, when Babykins declared, "No, Mama!  Your picture needs a BIG belly!"  She then insisted I draw a big circle for my belly, after which she was satisfied that we were all accurately represented in our pictures.  Sigh...

A Return to Nursing

Babykins nursed for 22 months.  In fact, the only reason I was finally able to finish weaning her is because I got pregnant with Babyroo.

Babykins is now a big, bad 30-monther, and hasn’t thought about nursing in a long time.  So when Babyroo came home from the hospital, and nursed for the first time, Babykins was intrigued.  What exactly was going on?

I explained that her baby brother couldn’t eat big kid food, yet, so he had to get all of his food as mommy milk.  Babykins thought about this for a minute, then nodded her head wisely.  I breathed a sigh of relief.  I had been waiting for old memories of the joy of nursing to surface, leading to a jealous melt down.

Just as I finished my sigh, Babykins looked at me and asked, “I nurse?”  I said no, explaining that she was a big girl, and big girls don’t nurse.  Luckily, Babykins likes being a big girl, so she just agreed and wandered away.

But the topic of nursing stayed on her mind, and she has carefully observed Babyroo.

Which led to this exchange the other night as I was nursing Babyroo while Babykins ate her dinner:

Babykins: Baby brother nursing?

Me: Yes.  He’s having his dinner, just like you!  (At this point, I moved Babyroo from one side to the other.)

Babykins: Baby brother switch sides?

Me: Yes.

Babykins (pointing): That side has milk, and the other side has food?

Me: No, they both just have milk.

Babykins (looking disappointed): Oh.  (Thinks for a minute.) Mama!  You’re full of milk!

“Mama, you’re full of milk!,” has become a standard phrase now for Babykins when she sees Babyroo nursing.  I’m just waiting for her to yell this loudly the first time we nurse in public.

Baby Boy Diapers

First, I would like to thank a good friend who suggested that since we live in Australia, Babyboo should more accurately be called Babyroo.  I love it!  The name is changed.

Babykins is mostly potty trained these days.  She still wears a diaper at night, and has the occasional accident during the day, but for the most part, she has joined the ranks of the toilet-using elite.

As a result, Hubbykins and I are a little out of practice when it comes to diapering...especially when it comes to diapering a new born.  How hard can it be, though, right?  We did it just 2 1/2 years ago, and teenage girls everywhere do it for $5 an hour.  It should be simple.

But it's not.

For the first week of his life, every diaper I put on Babyroo leaked.  Usually on me.  While we were nursing.  We went through a lot of clothes.

But the leaking wasn't really the hard part.  What really got us was that little boys have different parts than little girls.  And their parts can move.  Hubbykins and I have heard the stories of flying pee, so we've tried to be very attentive to covering Babyroo up while changing him.  It was going well.  We were successful diaper changers!

And then one day the cover slipped off.  As I waited for the inevitable pee assault, something surprising happened.  Instead of peeing on me or Hubbykins, Babyroo somehow managed to pee on his own face.  I had no idea this was possible.  Let the new round of parenting surprises begin!

We Interrupt Your Normal Blog for an Important Announcement

This blog has always been about my daughter, Babykins.  And over the last few months I've been a slacker about updating it.  I have a good excuse, though.  I've been pregnant.  And moving to a new continent.  And did I mention pregnant?

As pregnancies often do, this one has resulted in a baby!  I'm pleased to announce that Babykins has a new little brother.  Babyboo was born on October 12, 2012 in Australia.  He was one day past his due date, but he made up for coming late by coming fast.  After only 1 1/2 hours of labor, we had a 50 cm, 3.728 kilo baby boy (for those of you who don't want to do the conversion, that's approximately 20 inches and 8 pounds, 3 ounces).

For the record, that's how big Babykins was on her one month birthday.  So as far as I'm concerned, I essentially birthed a one-month-old baby in the time it takes to stand in line at the DMV.  Be impressed...be very impressed.

Moving forward, this blog will contain the adventures of both Babykins and Babyboo.  I already have a good supply of stories, so stay tuned!

Bad manners

Babykins is about as polite as a 2 year old can be.  She says "please" and "thank you" and will say "bless you" when you sneeze.

Then while we were in Puerto Rico, a man stuck his tongue out at her.  She stuck hers out in return, he laughed, and they quickly started a game that consisted entirely of sticking their tongues out at each other.

And since then, Babykins has stuck her tongue out at just about everyone we meet.  Unfortunately, everyone thinks it's adorable.  Which encourages her.  Which leads to more tongue sticking outing.  Which, in the words of Mary Poppins, leads to "chaos, anarchy, moral disintegration!  In short, you have a ghastly mess."

Despite our best efforts, Babykins continues to stick her tongue out at every person who makes eye contact.  There goes our well-mannered toddler.  Sigh...

And then a miracle happened...

We put Babykins down in her bed, gave her kisses, said "Goodnight", climbed into our own bed, and she fell asleep.  By herself.  Just like that.  Miracles do happen.

My future lawyer

It's been quite awhile now since Babykins last nursed.  She doesn't seem to miss it.  Every once in awhile, though, she randomly looks at me and says, "I nurse!"  I laugh, remind her that she's a big girl and doesn't nurse anymore, and she goes back to whatever she had been doing.

A couple weeks ago, though, Babykins was having an especially hard time falling asleep.  After about a half hour, she looked at me and asked, "I nurse?"

Me: No.  Remember, we don't nurse anymore.

Babykins:  No...I nurse!

Me: I know you want to nurse, but we can't anymore.

Babykins:  I nurse, please.  (Ah, she knows me so well.)

Me:  That was very polite, but we still can't nurse.

Babykins:  (Takes a long pause during which she obviously is thinking very hard.)  Mary Poppins nurses Michael!  (For those of you not in the know, Michael in the little boy in Mary Poppins.  He's about 6.  Mary Poppins does not nurse him.)

Me:  (Trying not to laugh.)  She does not, but that was a good try.  We're not nursing.  Good night.

Babykins:  Good night.

Suck it!

Lately, Babykins has A) been teething, and B) been traveling.  This has led to increased pacifier usage, and the unfortunate tendency to chew on it.  Chewing on pacifiers ruins them, so Hubbykins started reminding her, "Don't chew it, just suck it."

Which has led to Babykins randomly pulling out her pacifier, looking at us (or whoever happens to be around) and yelling, "Suck it!"

Oops.

Thief!

Babykins had a fantastic time on our cruise.  There were a couple thousand people trapped on a boat with nothing better to do than dote on her.  The waiters brought her favorite foods at dinner before she even asked.  The youth staff told her how smart she was.  Complete strangers ohh'd and ahh'd over her dinner dresses.  It was Babykins paradise.

I noticed, though, that a lot of people like to play a game with toddlers that they probably think of as cute. I think of it as stealing.

It goes something like this:

Stranger:  Oh, look at your cute purse!  It's so cute, I'm going to take it.  Look!  I've got your purse!

Babykins:  Giggles and reaches out for purse.

Me:  Trying to decide if pushing them down, taking back the purse, and telling them to steal from someone their own size would be an overreaction.

Obviously, I don't find this game as amusing as everyone else.

It didn't stop with the purse, either.  During the cruise, people took her chapstick, shoes, and a box of raisins.

Then one day, someone popped the pacifier out of her mouth, and I watched as Babykins tried to decide if the game was still fun, or if it was time to let out a scream that would let everyone know what she thought of pacifier thieves.

I quickly intervened, informing the gentleman that taking the pacifier was a bad idea and he should give it back quickly (I may have given him the look, too).  Babykins was quickly handed back her pacifier, and disaster was averted.  It was a lesson, though.  Taking candy from a baby might be easy, but it's generally not a nice thing to do.

A sink by any other name...

We've been doing a lot of traveling lately.  Although it can be difficult to adjust to new rooms and beds, Babykins has been a champ.

When we arrived at our hotel in Malaga last week, Babykins ran off to explore the room.  After checking the bed, the closets, and the balcony door, she went to take a look in the bathroom.  A few minutes later she came out looking quite proud.  She had somehow managed to wash her hands.

Knowing that the sink should have been too high for her to reach, Hubbykins and I went to check out the situation.  We discovered that our toddler had indeed discovered a "Babykins size sink" as she called it.  Unfortunately, we had another name for it...the bidet.

We spent the next 2 days trying to convince Babykins that it was not a sink, but there was no changing her mind.  Babykins took every opportunity to sneak away and wash her hands, and we spent our days guarding the bathroom.  Somehow, by the end of the visit, I felt like Babykins had both the cleanest and dirtiest hands possible.

Things I Never Thought I'd have to Say to my Child

I think the title is pretty self-explanatory, so let's jump right in.  These are all things I've found myself saying over the last couple months:

Don't lick the TV!
Please don't try to eat the rug.
No, you can't go to the library naked.
Did you get that cracker out of the trash?  Spit it out right now!
Good farts! (Although I only say this when she's on the potty, I swear!)
Stop trying to walk on the wall.

Anything else I can expect to hear coming out of my mouth over the next few years that I never would have expected?

Mama Lick!

Babykins loves going to the library.  We take her to story time twice a week.  She listens (somewhat) patiently to the stories, but what she really loves are the puzzles.  Hubbykins and I love that we can get new books, CDs, and videos each week, so that we don't have to read the same bedtime stories every night.

This past week we got a book called, How Do Lions Say "I Love You".  It's cute.  Each page tells how a different animal says I love you to its children.

The first time we read it, Babykins picked her favorite animal...the cow.  And I quote, "The mother cow says it with a lick and a nuzzle."  As soon as Babykins heard that line, she looked at me, pushed her bangs off her forehead, and cried, "Mama lick!"

Now I'm not squeamish when it comes to Babykins - I grew her, birthed her, breast-fed her for almost 2 years, and continue to wipe her poopie heiney - but I didn't really want to get in the habit of licking her.  But she was insistent, so I brushed my lip against her forehead and moved on with the story.

After that, every time we got to that page, Babykins pushed her bangs up and cried, "Mama lick!"  The fake lick seemed to be working...until tonight.  Tonight after I fake licked her, she looked me in the eye and  said, "No!  Tongue!"  And stuck out her tongue to demonstrate.

At which point I broke down and licked my child on the forehead.  Sigh...the things we do for our babies :)

For the record...

Babykins was weaned a few weeks ago at 22 months.  I know there were people in the pool placing their bets on the 10 year mark, but we have successfully stopped nursing with nary a tear.

We now go through 2 gallons of milk a week.  I didn't even know that was possible!

Babykins vs. "No"

I was reminded today that I have not added a new post in a verrrrrrrrry long time, so I now present, for your reading pleasure, "Babykins vs. "No."

Babykins will be 2 next month.  Which means that not only is she smart, she's now getting clever.  She has become especially tricky when it comes to getting around being told, "No."

Like all toddlers, Babykins has the tried-and-true fall-back methods that she tries first.  There's the "pretend I didn't hear you" method, along with the ever popular, "if I ignore them long enough maybe they'll forget" method.  In her really feisty days, she's even been known to go with the, "I'll just do it anyway and see if they have enough energy to catch me and put me in time out" method.

Lately, though, Babykins has developed two new methods...and they each have a very specific purpose.  The first is reserved for those times we tell her "No" because something just isn't popular.  For example, a few weeks ago Babykins became very distressed that the nails in the outside railing had rusted and turned some of the white paint orange.  When she asked me to fix the railing's "owwie," I said "No," explaining that it wasn't a job mommy could do.  Babykins thought about it, gave me a serious look, pointed her little finger at me, and said, "Grandma and Gop Gop."  I tried to explain that Grandma and Gop Gop couldn't do it either, but she wasn't buying it.  Since then, any time I say No because something isn't possible, she gives me a disappointed look and lets me know that Grandma and Gop Gop could do it.

The second method is used when we tell Babykins she can't have something.  I call it the, "I show you" method.  A typical scenario goes like this:
Babykins: I have icy pop!
Mommykins: No, you've already one this afternoon.
Babykins: No, I show you.
Babykins grabs my hand and pulls me to the refrigerator, where she insists I pick her up and open the freezer door.
Babykins (pointing to her favorite treat):  Icy pop!
Mommykins: I know we have icy pops.  You still can't eat one.
Babykins: I show you icy pop!

Apparently, Babykins is convinced that once she shows us the object of her desire, we'll realize the error of our ways and let her have it.  This method has yet to work, but Babykins keep trying.

Babykins will suddenly start listening when she's 3, right?

Oh, waitress!

Babykins likes to talk.  She also likes to boss people around.  Which means restaurants are practically like playgrounds for her.

Our first morning in our new place we decided to head to a local diner for some breakfast.  As we read through the menu, we asked Babykins if she'd like pancakes for breakfast.  Her little face lit up and she started talking excitedly about pancakes.

When the waitress arrived at our booth, before she could even ask what we wanted, Babykins turned to her  and cried out, "Pancakes!"  The waitress laughed and wrote down her order.  Babykins saw this, realized she had just done something exciting, turned back to the waitress, and exclaimed, "Milk!"  The waitress wrote this down as well, asked Hubbykins and I what we wanted, and left to put in our order.

The ordering fun over, Babykins climbed down from her highchair and proceeded to make the rounds of the diner, saying, "Hi" to the other diners and making friends.

Just as she was getting ready to head back to our table, she looked up and found herself face to knee with the waitress.  Babykins seized the moment.  She drew a deep breath, pointed her little finger, and with an excited, "Pancakes, milk!  Pancakes, milk!" reminded the waitress of her order.

Needless to say, when the waitress arrived at our table a few minutes later, there was a plate of warm pancakes and a cup of cold milk especially for Babykins.  She had given an order and it had been followed to the letter.  Babykins was quite pleased.

Darn you, Technology!

Our monitor broke.  So I took the opportunity to buy a video monitor.

It is addictive.  I barely slept last night.  How am I supposed to go to bed when I can just lie there and watch Babykins sleep?

I used to scoff at the idea of a video monitor, but now I don't know how I survived the last 21 months without one.

Oh, evil, evil technology.

All Grown Up?

I've been very sad lately to notice that Babykins has started calling me "Mom."  I loved being Mama.  I was surprised when she began calling me "Mommy," but it was still very cute.  But the introduction of "Mom" has made me realize that my baby is growing up.

She's taken it one step farther with Daddykins, though.  We were at the zoo a couple days ago, and I wanted to get Hubbykins' attention to point out the baby giraffe.  I was holding Babykins, so her head was right next to my face when I called out, "Hubbykins!" (OK, I actually called his name, so if you happen to know his name, picture that.  If you don't know his name, feel free to make one up.)  He didn't hear me, so I called again, louder.  He still didn't hear, so I called one more time.

Seconds later, I hear Babykins pipe up in her high-pitched voice, calling him by name, as well.  It was cute, and, I assumed, it was a one time event.

Since then, though, whenever Babykins reallllly wants Hubbykins' attention, she looks at him hard, takes a deep breath, and calls his name.

Talk about all grown up.

Why I Worry

Last week the Babykins family was living in a hotel.  As a result, we spent a lot of time eating at restaurants.  Luckily for us, Babykins is a restaurant champ.  She colors.  She plays with her toys.  She takes us for walks around the restaurant.  She even (occasionally) eats some food.

Wednesday night we went to Bubba Gump's to take advantage of the outdoor seating that is conveniently located next door to an outside bar with live music.  The meal started out beautifully when the waiter brought Babykins a balloon (are all of the experienced parents out there cringing, yet?).  She loved it.  She bopped it on my head.  She shook it back a forth.  I'm pretty sure I even saw her lick it.  Score!

When I tried to tie the balloon on to her chair, Babykins held out her hand and said - rather sternly - "No, Mama, stop!"  I explained that if she let go it would float to the ceiling and we wouldn't be able to get it back.  To which she replied, "Babykins hold it!"  So I reminded her to hold on tight and went back to eating my dinner.

Much to my surprise, 10 minutes later Babykins still had a firm grip on the balloon string.  I was just starting to relax when Babykins leaned over the table to grab a crayon and start coloring.  I watched in dismay as the balloon slipped from her grasp.

The tears came fast and heavy, but our waiter had the solution.  Within moments he was back at our table with another balloon.  An identical balloon.  But it wasn't the same.

Babykins just continued to cry and pointed at the ceiling, insisting she wanted the "nother balloon."  I was ready to turn this into a life lesson kind of moment when our waiter came out of nowhere with a bar stool and another very tall waiter in tow.

He placed the bar stool under the balloon, made the other waiter climb on, and when the combined height still wasn't enough to reach the balloon, encouraged the waiter on the chair with, "Come on man, be a hero.  Jump!"  When that still didn't work, he disappeared for a moment and returned with a ruler and a broom.  Each had a healthy dose of tape wrapped around the end.  The taller waiter was once again forced onto the slightly un-stable bar stool, this time with sticky implements in hand, and, as the whole section of the restaurant watched, he rescued Babykins' balloon.

It was an amazing act of chivalry by the waitstaff.  And it is the reason I worry that Babykins will one day have all of the boys in school doing her homework for her.  Her application to the convent is filled out and ready to mail.

(And yes, we left that waiter a ridiculously large tip.)